The Fire Mages' Daughter (29 page)

“I was surprised myself,” Yannassia said. “She has some very vocal supporters, it is true. But she is not well liked, not at all. It was quite illuminating how many nobles pointed out her coldness, and told me that, while ambition is very worthy, they would not like to have someone ruling Bennamore with so little warmth. Several of them pointed out how different you are, how much more…
human
. How much more likable.”

“Really? Does the heir have to be likable?”

“Strength of mind is more important, naturally. Determination. Impartial justice. But it helps if they like you. That was always Yordryn’s great strength – it was impossible to dislike him. And despite all your efforts, Drina, the same is true of you.”

I couldn’t think of any response to that. I was too shocked for words. But at least it had dried my tears.

“I will tell you something that was mentioned more than once,” Yannassia went on. “Zandara chose her drusse by rank and house, nothing else. She is aiming to have a child by each of the five great houses, in time. You chose your drusse for love, and when he made a mistake, you forgave him. That was something that many of the nobles mentioned with approval.”

“I had no idea.”

“Of course not. You were following your own instincts, and I thought you were wrong, at the time. But there we are. Your instincts are sounder than mine.”

“I just felt that if I were happy, I could fulfil my duties better,” I said. “Having Arran by my side makes it easier to do all the things I don’t much enjoy.”

Yannassia smiled. “A contented ruler is a good ruler. Yes, there is wisdom in that. You see? You will make a great Drashona in time.”

“A very long time,” Mother said. “Yannassia is good for another thirty years, at least.”

Yannassia pulled a face. “If this baby isn’t the death of me.”

“And if the Icthari don’t get us all first,” I said darkly. But I was cheered, all the same, for a lot could happen in thirty years.

~~~~~

I would have loved a quiet evening alone with Arran, but there was a formal presentation, when every noble in Kingswell came to pay their respects to the newly appointed heirs. This began a quarter moon of celebrations, to culminate in a grand banquet for the worthies of the city. The nobles would hold another banquet for the end of their council. I had not a moment to myself until the bedroom door closed at the end of each evening’s festivities. By then I was too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep, only to wake to another sun packed with activities.

Zandara was remarkably good-humoured, giving me precedence with a smile that almost seemed genuine. She knew that this was only a single step in the process, and the nobles could change their minds at any time. Well, I wouldn’t object to that. There was still a sliver of hope.

The box of almond paste sweetmeats had been handed over to the food tasters, with instructions to look for a slow-acting poison. They could tell a great deal just from the smell and texture, but if that revealed nothing, they would test small amounts on mice and rats.

Arran was wonderful to me during this time. He never left me, not for a moment, and whenever he could, he held my hand. He gave me so much strength, and he asked for nothing, his only concern my welfare. At night, he held me until I fell asleep. In the morning, he would wake me with a mug of hot brew and perch on the side of the bed, chatting about nothing very much until I was awake enough to drag myself from under the covers.

But the third night after the council meeting, I woke abruptly in darkness. It was my eagle, her mind overflowing with urgent agitation, probing for mine. I was out of bed in a moment.

“What is it, my lovely?” I whispered. “Hush, there’s nothing wrong.”

But there was. She would not be soothed. She was wheeling over the Keep, circling, circling, lower and lower. I looked through her eyes, but in the moonless dark I could see nothing. All was black. But gradually my eyes adjusted to the eagle’s much sharper ones, and the roof came into dim focus.

Something moving. A dark shape creeping about, hugging the walls and deepest shadows. It stopped beside a low wall which encircled an atrium. A bag was set down, and out came – what? I couldn’t make it out. But then—

A grappling hook! He was going over the edge, down into an atrium, attacking from within the Keep. And I recognised the treetops below him. My treetops. My atrium.

He was coming for me.

The figure was already clambering over the low wall.

“Get him!” I shrieked. “Stop him!”

The eagle plunged, then screeched with anger when her claws clutched only air. The figure was gone, over the edge and climbing downwards.

“Pull the rope away!” I yelled.

Arran was beside me, a sword in his hand. “What is it? What rope?”

“Someone climbing down the inner walls. An atrium. I think it’s this one.”

Even as I spoke, a shape darkened the window.

“Guards! Guards! To me!” Arran shouted, pushing me aside and striding forwards.

The window shattered and a black shape hurtled through it. Knives flashed, and Arran’s sword swung. The room was filled with the ringing of steel and the grunts of men in combat. As I watched, frozen in terror, they clashed, exchanged blows, spun round, sprang apart. Then again. The intruder was dark in the night-gloom, hard to see. Arran’s nightshirt was vivid white. Too easy a target. Once more they met, with a great crash of steel on steel.

Then a cry, and Arran fell. I screamed.

But the night guards were already boiling through the door, swords out, and in a heartbeat the intruder was dead, a sword through his chest. Then more guards, and shouted orders, and heavy boots stamping everywhere.

I saw only Arran, sprawled on the floor where he’d fallen, eyes closed. His nightshirt was gashed red where his blood had spilled over the Vilkorani rug he was so proud of.

“Mage!” I shrieked. “Fetch a mage! Now!”

Long before a mage could be found, some of the guards had fetched linens and water, gently cleaned the wound, and bound it.

“It is nothing much,” one of the guards said, as she carefully turned him onto his side. “There! He will do very well now. See his eyelids fluttering? He is already coming round.”

“And look,” said another. “He got in a couple of good strikes before he went down.” He pointed to the intruder’s arm, which was marred by two deep gashes.

I looked at the man who would have murdered me in my bed. The scarf hiding his face had fallen off, and in the light of the brighter lamps the guards had brought in, his origins were clear. That nose could not be anything but Icthari.

“My sister and brother!” I said, in sudden panic. “They may be attacked as well.”

“We have already sent word,” the guard said. “That was the first thing we thought of, also.”

“Thank all the gods!” I said, and for once, I truly meant it.

~~~~~

“I will not have it!” Yannassia stormed back and forth, anger pouring off her. “I will not have assassins breaking into the Keep to murder us as we sleep. It is too much! These people must be stopped.”

“Yes, Most Powerful,” the night commander said, as he had said already a dozen times. His face was pinched with fear.

My assassin was dead, but two others at least had escaped. Axandor had had the good fortune to be bedding down elsewhere for the night and found a knife in his pillow when he returned. Zandara’s intended killer had missed his target, dispatching two hapless waiting women on the floor above, instead.

Yannassia had summoned all of us to her apartment. Torthran and Mother watched her anxiously. Zandara and Axandor, unusually for them, stood on opposite sides of the room. Vhar-zhin was white-faced, hands twisting, her eyes fixed on me. I was more concerned with Arran, who had been unconscious and bleeding barely an hour before. Arran, who had been so concerned for me that he had slept with a sword beneath his bed, who would have died to protect me. Now, apart from a modest sling, he looked perfectly normal, if a little more dishevelled than usual.

“Highness…”

“Yes, Arran?”

“Forgive me, but I do not believe these murderers broke in. The outer walls of the Keep are smooth and unclimbable, with not a single window. They have never been breached, not once in all our history. And the gate was closed.”

She shrugged. “So they walked in during the hours of sun, and hid themselves. It is all the same.”

“And then went straight to the right atrium and floor and window to attack both Drina and Highness Axandor? No, they had help. Someone who knew the Keep well – who knew
your part
of the Keep well – who let them in, hid them until past moonset, showed them the hidden stairs to the roof and told them precisely where to find their targets.”

“That is ridiculous,” Zandara said, her pale eyes staring at him. “Who would do such a thing?”

“An Icthari,” he said at once. “There are not many inside the Keep, but there are a few. I think they should be locked away until this matter has been fully investigated.”

“Nonsense!” Zandara snapped. “I have Icthari servants myself, but their loyalty to me has never been in doubt. You do not propose to arrest
them
, too, I trust?”

“You would surely not claim special privileges for your own servants?” I said, shocked. “We of all people must never be above the law. If one is arrested, they must all be arrested.”

“Absolutely,” Yannassia said crisply. “Commander, see to it. Highness Zandara will set the example. You may start with her servants. After that… we have some in the kitchens, I believe. The senior steward will have a list.”

“Yes, Highness. At once.”

He saluted smartly and withdrew, his expression one of relief. No reprimand, and nice, simple orders to obey.

Zandara huffed in annoyance. “This is crazy! These people came from outside the Keep, that is obvious. If they had insiders helping them, why did they not find my apartment?”

“That is a very good question,” Yannassia said crisply. “But we will have answers. When these people are interviewed, we will have mages present to determine whether they speak the truth. Then we will know. And if your servants are innocent, then you may have them back.”

Wordlessly, Zandara spun round and stalked out of the room, her drusse and two night guards chasing after her.

“Now then, Arran,” Yannassia said, “you may tell me why you are so keen to arrest all these Icthari. For I think you have a reason for it.”

We had not told her about the box of sweets which Zandara’s servant had given me. It had seemed unnecessary to worry her if they were, after all, no more than pretty almond paste, and it could be a moon or more before we were sure. But now Arran told her everything. He even told her that one of Zandara’s servants had arrived ten years ago. Yannassia stopped pacing, and listened intently, her face even paler than usual.

“Well. There is no proof in any of that, but it is… suggestive. And it does make a strange kind of sense. Yordryn… yes, Zandara benefited there, no question about it. And I can quite see why she would want Drina dead. But she would never have harmed her own baby, surely?”

“No, her distress was quite genuine, I’m sure,” I said. “That was my delightful betrothed, or his even more charming father, I’m sure of it.”

“Good,” Yannassia said. “For I should hate to think we had taken our revenge on the wrong men. But perhaps it gave Zandara the idea. And then, when you were chosen as heir, and the sweets did not work, she thought to try the assassination method. For who would suspect anyone but the Icthari?”

“And she arranged for her own assassin to go to the wrong place, to avert suspicion,” Torthran said. “Yes. But Axandor? I cannot believe she would put him at risk.”

We all looked at Axandor. Again, I was struck by something odd. Normally, he followed Zandara as closely as a dog. Yet here he still was, hands tucked in armpits, head down, looking thoroughly miserable.

He chewed his lip. “Thing is… I was out of my apartment. One of Zan’s waiting women. I like my own bed as a rule, but she insisted. I thought it was peculiar at the time. I wanted to go home… you know, afterwards. She clung on to me, quite argumentative about it. I hate to upset a lady but now… I wonder… I think Zan planned it. To get me out of my own bed. I think you should know that. And I think you should get the mages to question Zan, as well.”

“Thank you, Axandor,” Yannassia said gently. “That was very brave of you, to tell us all that. I know how fond you are of Zandara. She will be questioned, and the mages will find out the truth of it, one way or the other.”

“Good,” he said, lifting his head. “Because if she
did
try to have Drina killed, it is not right, not right at all. And something should be done about it.”

~~~~~

When we left Yannassia’s private rooms, Arran and I hand in hand, Vhar-zhin scurried after us.

“Drina! May I…? Are you all right? Not injured?”

“Not in the least. Arran took the worst of it.”

“Of course. He was very brave.” She flushed. “Drina, I… I am so glad you have suffered no harm. I want you to know…” She chewed her lip, looking at the floor, then suddenly lifted her head to gaze straight at me. “I am sorry for what happened. Between us, I mean. I intended no harm. I thought… I misunderstood.” Her eyes flicked to Arran and then back again. “But I can see now that it would not have worked.”

“No,” I said gently. “It would never have worked between us, Vhar. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes flicked to Arran again. “He knows about it?”

“I have no secrets from Arran.”

“Of course. You are very close, I understand that now. Even when you were apart… You were unhappy, and I thought I could fill the void. It was a foolish idea.”

“Not foolish,” Arran said. “If you care for someone, you want to make them happy.”

“Yes!” Her face lit up suddenly. “I wanted to make her happy. I really thought I could, but her heart was already given elsewhere. When you love someone, truly love them with all your being, no one else can bring you happiness.”

“Do you think so?” Arran said. “That would be sad, if it were true. Surely it is possible to find happiness, even with someone who might not be the first choice. Love can grow, Highness.”

She looked at him uncertainly. I’m not sure he’d ever said so much to her before. “You think so?”

“I do. For you, too, if you would let it. I think if you looked around, you could find someone who would make you very happy. Your waiting woman with the lovely blue eyes, for instance. She likes you very much, I think.”

“Oh. She
is
very pretty, but…” She stopped, and I could see the idea filtering through her mind, perhaps for the first time.  “I… well, it is an interesting theory, Most Powerful. I will consider what you have said.” She leaned forward and kissed me on one cheek. “May the gods protect you, Drina.”

Then she was gone.

“That was unexpected,” I said. “That is the first time she has ever given you your proper title. She has mellowed greatly towards you, considering what she did to keep us apart.”

“She had your welfare at heart,” he said, squeezing my hand.

“I suppose so. I wonder if she will do anything about the waiting woman. Does she really like Vhar?”

“Oh yes. The poor girl can barely take her eyes off her. Have you never noticed? You are normally so observant. Well, perhaps she will find a little happiness herself.”

We walked on to our apartment, bodyguards our silent shadows. It amused me that Arran had taken note of the pretty waiting woman, even though he also noticed that her eyes were not on him. He would always notice a pretty woman.

His words were more concerning. I took great care not to ask how he knew so much about finding happiness with someone who was not a first choice. Love can grow, he’d said. But I didn’t dare to believe he was talking about himself. About me. If I pushed him into it, he would say glibly that of course he loved me, how could I doubt it? But he’d never volunteered it, never whispered it at moments of emotion. Never quite convinced me that he meant it.

That was all right. As long as he was content to stay with me, I was happy.

~~~~~

It was shocking how quickly we descended into catastrophe. One moment all was serene, events drifting along in their slow way, like smoke rising to the roof in gentle curls. The next, we were in the midst of a whirlwind.

A whole Icthari nest was uncovered, distant kin of my father’s. Finding themselves homeless and in need of employment some years ago, they had sought help from Zandara, appealing to her Icthari heritage. And they had offered her an inducement – their expertise with poisons, which could secure her inheritance. They told everything, in the hope of clemency. But they couldn’t say what had happened to Yordryn and his family, since they had only provided the poisons.

There was no alternative but to question Zandara herself. It would not be a formal trial, for no accusation had yet been made, but the questions would be asked by the realm’s most senior law scribes, with mages to determine the truth of the answers, and it would take place in front of the whole assembly. And such a questioning could become a trial in an instant, if the answers were unsatisfactory.

Yannassia had summoned us all to her private sitting room to announce her decision. She was pale, a sickly sheen coating her skin. Torthran hovered anxiously, and Mother sat in a corner, ready to step forward the instant she was needed.

Axandor’s whole body was shaking, and I felt quite wobbly myself. Hethryn was too old to hold my hand, but he stood very close to me, his eyes wide. It was not every sun that a sister was accused of attempted murder.