The Queen of Mages (29 page)

Liam realized he wasn’t listening, as Pater
went on. “…so when they go, half the stableboys will probably go
with them. But I don’t know that that’ll open up any spots. We’ll
have half the men, but only half the horses to tend to, if you
follow.”

Liam nodded. “Well I’ll be around a bit. If
a place does open up, could you put in a word for me? I can muck
out a stall with the best of them,” he bragged, puffing out his
chest.

Pater laughed. “Of course, anything for an
old mate from the wars.” He chuckled. They both knew they’d never
seen real war. Back then the prospect had seemed glorious, but it
was ten years since, and they’d both learned a thing or two.

They spent a few more minutes catching up,
but before Liam had to come up with an excuse to leave, Pater
begged off. “Got to get home to the wife,” he said, with a smirk
that somehow ended up looking sad, and stood up.

Liam was astonished. “You’re
married?
”

Pater wore no rings that he could see, but
nodded just the same. “She’s a good woman. She cleans for a
merchant. No children yet, not that we haven’t tried.”

“But where’s your rings?”

Pater shrugged. “Saving up for a farm. Every
copper spent on jewellery’s a copper not spent on the farm, she
says. I can’t argue. I don’t want to be a stablemaster’s assistant
forever. Besides, the only ring that matters,” he tapped his chest,
“is the one she put around my heart.”

Liam rolled his eyes and laughed. “Same old
Pater.”

“G’night, mate,” Pater grinned, and
left.

In his cot that night, Liam thought of Katin
again. She was all he could see when he closed his eyes. For all he
knew, she wasn’t in the palace; she’d been sent away, or she was
dead, or, or, or… But he’d made his choice, and he had to see it
through. He wouldn’t waste all this effort just to turn around and
go chasing after Dardan. By now, he reminded himself, his lord
could be a thousand miles away, and Liam might never find him.

———

On the slim chance that Edon had simply set
Katin free after their return, Liam found a spot on Willbury Street
where he could watch Amira’s manse without being seen. After half a
day watching, he saw no one enter or leave except for a pair of
maids. Maybe Katin was cooped up inside; but talking to the
servants, who might recognize him, could put the royal guards on
his trail.

Instead he went to the servants’ door of the
other adjacent manse, where none of the staff knew him. A pretty
young maid answered at his knock. “Good afternoon,” Liam said,
giving his best smile. “I was led to believe I could find a Miss
Katin Berisha here.”

The girl smiled back at him, slightly
confused. “Oh, no, that’s next door. But… she ain’t been around
since all that strangeness a couple months back.”

Liam apologized and left.
So much for
luck.

Three days after his encounter with Pater,
all the news in the streets was of King Edon departing the city
again, this time at the head of two thousand swords—no,
ten
thousand—no, only a hundred swords, plus a
dragon
. Liam’s
coins had dwindled alarmingly, but the morning after that a boy
came running into the hostel, carrying a message for Liam:

Spot opened up. Welcome to the palace,
stableboy. - Pater

Liam returned sedately to his room, then
hooted and danced about. He was one step closer.

It turned out that in the commotion involved
in saddling half a hundred horses for King Edon and his most loyal
lords and knights and Wardens, a bleary-eyed stableboy had gotten
confused in the dawn mist and ended up walking into a horse’s rear.
The beast took this unkindly and gave the lad a kick that shattered
several ribs. Pater prayed for the boy, but seized on the
opportunity and talked the stablemaster, a man named Chester
Dormouth, into letting him hire an old friend who’d shown up
seeking work.

Liam hadn’t been far wrong when he’d joked
about nobles’ bastards working in the palace. Most of the
stableboys turned out to be the young sons of nobles, legitimate or
otherwise. It was a tradition for the sons of dukes and counts to
serve in the palace for a few months, ostensibly to prove their
loyalty to the crown and the realm. Of course, even there, nobles
jockeyed for position. The stables were for the sons of nobles who
didn’t have the clout to get their sons positions as pages,
squires, or assistants to the Greater Council.

Liam didn’t really understand why nobles
thought it was so important to have their brats running around the
palace, playing at grown-up jobs. Dardan had served here for a
season, he recalled; not in the stables, but rather as cupbearer to
the Greater Council. Liam couldn’t fathom how bored Dardan must
have been, twelve years old and sitting through endlessly droning
political debates.

He had no idea how Besiana had gotten her
son positioned so highly. The rumor around Tinehall was that she’d
done it to show up the count after he’d refused to let Dardan be
away for so long. Dardan hadn’t wanted to do it either—Liam could
hardly blame him—but Besiana had run roughshod over both her son
and her husband. It was part of the reason, he’d come to
understand, why Besiana had lived apart from Asmus for several
years.

Nobles’ sons or not, the stableboys were
most young and uniformly terrified of Chester and his squad of lead
hostlers who oversaw the stableboys. Pater assured Liam that
Chester wasn’t unduly harsh or cruel, but handling the royal
stables was serious business, and keeping the stableboys on their
toes was good for everyone.

Chester’s threats and scoldings had fire to
them, but they were no worse than anything Liam had heard Count
Asmus say. He winced at the reminder; he’d never again hear Asmus
threaten to use him for archery practice.

So Liam pretended to be intimidated and went
about his work. Since Pater knew him, he had to use his true name,
Liam Howard, and hoped it would raise no suspicions. Edon’s men
might never think to look right under their noses.

The stableboys shared a common bunk room in
a wooden building right behind the stables. On his first night
there, three of the older stableboys—all still younger than Liam by
years—tried to corner him, to see what he was made of. Rather than
let them start a brawl, he beckoned them forward and whispered how
he’d once gouged a man’s eyes out with his own thumbs, merely
because the man had insulted his mother. The story was cut from
whole cloth, but he told it so casually and with such ruthlessly
precise details that the boys left him alone after that. Liam tried
to ignore the anger, hiding beneath the surface, that had given a
malevolent glint to his eye.

———

The stablehands were kept busy, but still
managed to gossip. And there was plenty to gossip about, even with
Edon gone, along with much of the royal army’s Callaston garrison.
Even the Wardens in residence at the palace had gone with him. Liam
hoped that Edon hadn’t taken Katin as well, but nobody mentioned
any women riding with them.

Duke Terilin Faroa seemed to be ruling in
Edon’s stead, and kept a close watch on the rest of the royal
family: the Dowager Queen Alise, the princesses, little Prince
Luka. Like most commoners who spent their time outside of
Callaston, Liam had never paid much attention to the royal family.
House Tarian had been his only concern. Now he found himself
absorbing every tidbit of information about House Relindos that he
could. Queen Alise never left her chambers, apparently by her own
will, while Karina stayed confined at Duke Terilin’s command,
despite constant pleadings to be let out. Taya went where she
willed, riding into the city or the royal preserve. Liam saw her
once, young and slim, straight brown hair glossy in the morning
sun, as she left for a ride. She moved with purpose, a commanding
presence even at seventeen. Her vala was a flame-haired girl with
an impressive frown, who never went out of arm’s reach of her
mistress and glared at any man who came close.

On Liam’s third night in the bunk room,
several of the boys were gathered in a corner betting coppers at
dice. Liam threw a time or two, but mostly listened and encouraged
the others to keep talking. They spoke about Taya, mostly, making
the sort of lewd comments young men do when their mothers aren’t
around to box their ears.

“I bet she’d fancy a real companion on those
long, hard rides of hers,” said Jonny, a yellow-haired duke’s
bastard, punctuating his remark with a leer as he sipped thin honey
mead from a chipped wooden cup.

“Her highness wouldn’t wipe her arse with
the likes of you,” another boy said, tall and reedy and trying in
vain to grow a moustache. “I hear she doesn’t much like boys,
anyway.”

“Oh, shut it,” Jonny said back, and the
others all hooted their derision at tall and reedy’s claim.

“I’ve seen nobles with stranger vices,” Liam
put in, sitting on an upturned onion crate and leaning against the
rough wooden wall.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Jonny
spat at him. “Old man,” that was all they called him, which suited
him fine. The less his name was spoken aloud, the better. At
twenty-six, he felt less like a grown man than he had at eighteen,
but he was still a decade past most of the brats.

Liam sat up. “I knew of a lord once who had
a different boy brought to him every night, and had the lad lashed
down like a pig for slaughter. Then he’d paddle him with a board—”
He reached out and slapped the nearest lad sharply on the thigh,
making him jump and yelp. “—while the lad used his mouth on him,
until he did his business.” He leaned forward and locked eyes with
Jonny. “They said he preferred blond boys, ’bout your age.”

Jonny paled, but the other boys all
guffawed, and started calling Jonny “Paddle.”

Liam waited until the cacophony died down.
“So Princess Taya fancies girls, does she?” he asked tall and
reedy.

“So I heard,” tall and reedy said, and this
time, the other boys didn’t interrupt. “I had it from a washerwoman
I bedded—”

“You did no such thing,” another boy
interrupted, but he looked fascinated all the same.

“Shut it. Anyway, this woman says…” He
looked around and lowered his voice, making everyone lean in, even
Liam. “She says Taya’s got herself a bedgirl cooped up in chambers.
Makes use of her twice a day, she does. She said you can hear her
screaming at night, even through the walls.” He rapped on the
wooden wall at his side.

“Is that so,” Liam whispered back, feigning
awe. A bedgirl was hardly much of a transgression, even for a
princess.

Kris nodded eagerly. “She waited till the
king was gone, of course. Everyone knows he’s a terror to his
family. I heard he even keeps his own little wife locked up in
their chambers, for fear the guards will all try to bed her. She’s
a right beauty, they all say.”

The gossiping continued into the small
hours. Liam eventually drifted away to bed.
Three days in the
palace, and not a hint of Katin,
he thought, turning under the
thin blanket. He said a few quiet words to the Aspect of Despair
and let sleep claim him.

Princess Taya proved to be endlessly
mercurial. The next day she was as pleasant to Katin as could be,
as if their little contretemps had never happened, and suggested
that Katin might soon be given a chance to go outside. But the day
after, she made no mention of it, nor the day after that. When
Katin asked again whether Edon had left yet, Taya said sweetly that
she mustn’t be impatient.

Each night, Katin found herself unable to
sleep and crept out to the balcony once Taya dozed. She sat in the
chilling breeze, a spare blanket wrapped around her, watching the
moon’s smiling crescent set. She would nap in the daytime, in
Taya’s bed, when the princess was gone. Once she was startled awake
by the old maids when they came in to tidy up, and nearly cursed at
them before she remembered to act stupid. They made her sit in the
corner while they cleaned, and shook their heads as they closed the
door behind them.

The sun was well into its downward slide one
afternoon, when something tickled Katin’s nose as she lay on Taya’s
bed. She inhaled deeply and realized that it was smoke. Wood
smoke.

Katin went out into the antechamber. The
maids were nowhere to be seen, but the smell of smoke was stronger
here. She sniffed around until she came to the locked servants’
door. Here the smell was strongest. She put her face to the
doorframe. She could hear nothing, and there was no heat.
Is
there a fire in there?
She couldn’t open it, but…

When she opened the door to the outer hall,
the two guards there spun to face her. One leered at her wispy silk
gown, but the other’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “You, get back in
there!” he said.

“I thought I smelled something,” Katin said,
letting her eyes glaze over. “Do you smell something?” She sniffed
for emphasis.

The guard paused, and sniffed as well.
“Smoke?” He turned his gaze on her. “What did you do, stupid
girl?”

“I smelled something,” she repeated
blankly.

The guard brushed past her, ordering his
partner to watch her. This he did, looking her up and down with a
grin. “Pity the princess can’t make proper use of you,” he
purred.

She wanted to hit the lout, but just stared.
“Huh?”

“Eain!” came a shout from within. “There’s a
fire in the servant’s passage. Raise the alarm!”

Katin looked into the antechamber. The
servants’ door was open now, and smoke poured out of it. The
leering guard ran off down the corridor, shouting “Fire!
Fire!”
Guards and servants came running within minutes, bearing buckets of
water. Katin backed away from Taya’s rooms to let them in.
I
could flee now,
she thought.
They’ll all be distracted.
But to where? The gate guards weren’t going to abandon their posts,
and she was several floors up and halfway around the palace from
the front gate. Maybe she could find somewhere to hide, as Amira
had, and escape through the same sewer tunnel… although Amira had
told the queen about that, so maybe that way out had been since
barred.

She sensed someone moving behind her, and
turned.

Liam.

She gasped, and he grabbed her wrists, quick
as lightning, before she could embrace him. “Hush, girl, it’s all
right, they’ll put out the fire. You’ll be safe, understand?”

Katin felt tears welling up, and bit her
lip. Liam kept talking, barely a whisper. “They’ll move the
princess to temporary chambers, and you with her. Lower in the
palace, and easier to reach.”

She gazed at him. His hair had been cut
quite short, and he had a beard now, well-trimmed, jutting out
where his chin did. His mouth was uncovered, and his lips she
remembered well. It took her a moment to notice his servants’
tunic, the royal sigil on the breast and… a horseshoe below it? How
had he gotten into the palace? How had he found her?

“You’re in the stables?” she whispered. He
released her arms, and she had to cross them tightly to stop
herself from grabbing him.

He nodded. “I will get you out of here. Be
on the balcony the night after tomorrow, at midnight.” He stepped
back a little and scrunched his face into a glower. “Leave me be,
harlot,” he said loudly, then turned and left. She wanted to laugh
at the serious expression on his face, but there were too many
people around. Instead, she granted herself a few seconds’ smile,
hiding it behind her hand, then stilled her face and turned to
watch the bucket brigade that had formed.

Taya’s two old maids erupted through the
crowd, faces pink with exertion. When they saw Katin standing
exposed out in the hall, they nearly had conniptions, and dragged
her back into Taya’s chambers at once. Alone again, Katin buried
her face in a pillow and screamed with joy.

———

The fire had started from a candle
carelessly knocked behind a shelf in the servants’ ways. The whole
of the apartments were wood and painted plaster, and there was some
damage to the princess’s wardrobe.

As Liam had predicted, Taya’s residence was
moved wholesale to a smaller, less ornate set of apartments two
floors down, so that repairs could be undertaken. Katin was kept in
Taya’s old sun room until the dead of night, when one of the maids
turned up carrying an ill-fitting servants’ dress. There were few
eyes to see them as they went to the new rooms.

Taya was in a foul mood the next morning,
muttering about careless servants and what a disaster it would have
been had she been present. She never seemed to consider that Katin
had actually been present, and in more danger than anyone, but by
now Katin expected no less of her.

The princess was gone the whole day. Katin
risked going out onto the balcony. It was only one story above the
gardens below; too far to jump, but perhaps if she had a rope of
some kind… It would still not do to be seen, so Katin went back
inside after only a few minutes, and spent the rest of the day
looking through Taya’s wardrobe, wondering how she might fashion a
rope out of the clothes there.

The next evening, Katin tingled with
excitement. She would sneak out onto the balcony again once Taya
was asleep. Perhaps Liam would scale down from a balcony above, to
carry her off into the night. She had to be ready.

Taya and Juliet had gone to an evening
reception for some nobles, but it had grown quite late, and they
had not yet returned. When a distant bell tolled eleven, Katin’s
worry intensified. If Taya returned at the wrong moment…

Half an hour later came the sound of
footsteps, and then a door opening. Laughter. Katin climbed off
Taya’s bed and sat on a chair. She waited, tense as a drawn
bowstring.

Several minutes passed before the bedchamber
door opened and Taya stumbled in. Juliet followed, smiling for
once.
What in the black spirits could make that girl grin
so?
Taya was clearly drunk, her gown half off one shoulder, her
hair mussed. “I do believe th’ count got th’ message,” Taya
slurred, cackling.

Katin stood and waited for Taya to notice
her. The princess finally glanced at her, and waved a hand
cheerily. “Oh, my dear, what a wonderful night!” She hiccuped and
laughed again.

“Your highness,” Katin said, bowing. As
drunk as she was, Katin hoped Taya would be abed soon.

But the princess instead danced around to
some unheard tune, taking Juliet and then Katin and whirling them
about. “We should have th’ musicians up here!” Taya exclaimed.

“I fear they’ve left the palace by now, your
highness,” Juliet said. She was quite sober, but still hardly
frowned even when Taya danced with Katin.

“Pish,” Taya slurred. “Fetch ’em back. I
command it.”

“Don’t be silly,” Juliet said, becoming less
amused.

“Am I your mistress ’r not?” Taya shouted.
“Go!”

Juliet seemed taken aback. Katin held her
breath; she’d seen the two women argue before. She could never
guess in advance whose will would win out. But this time, Juliet
let out a tense breath and bowed. “Yes, your highness.” With an
unreadable glance at Katin, she left.

Taya kicked off her shoes and padded over to
Katin. “I fancy a foot rub,” she said, and pushed Katin into her
chair. The princess pulled up her own chair and plopped into it,
setting her feet on Katin’s knees.

The remaining minutes dwindled as Katin
pushed and rubbed at the princess’s feet. She tried to keep herself
from staring at the balcony door, but her eyes would not obey her.
Taya prattled on about some foppish count who had spent the whole
evening making eyes and lewd suggestions at her.

It would be midnight soon. Katin’s pulse
raced. She had to get outside. She looked at the bed, wishing Taya
would get in it already. The covers were rumpled, the product of a
pre-dinner dalliance with Juliet. How long would Taya’s
vala
be gone?

If Taya didn’t go to bed soon… well, Katin
could simply choose to do nothing. Liam would not find her waiting,
and she would be stuck here. Who knew if Liam would ever get
another chance? No. She had to do it. She could not merely hide and
hope everything would turn out all right. Not this time. She had to
get out of here.
She’ll use you,
rang Juliet’s voice in her
memory.

Her hand slowly crept up Taya’s leg,
massaging her calf and then her thigh, fading into a gentle caress.
The princess had slouched into her chair, but now her head came up
and she stared, surprised, at Katin.

“Your highness’s
vala
will be gone a
while…” Katin said.

Taya’s eyebrows almost climbed off her face.
“Well, how unexpected,” Taya said. “I think y’may be right.” She
stood and led Katin over to the bed.

“Wait, your highness,” Katin said. “I have
an idea.” She reached back to those days in the brothel, and gave
her most lascivious grin. Her insides were a black pit, but she
could not let that show. She went into the wardrobe and found the
silk ribbons she’d seen there once. She fetched a handful and
brought them out.

Taya had taken the opportunity to remove
most of her clothes. She wore only her shift now, but had hiked it
up around her hips, and Katin jerked to a halt when she saw Taya
pleasuring herself. Katin forced herself to smile, and held up the
ribbons.

“What’re those for?” Taya asked when she saw
them.

Katin climbed into the bed and pressed a
finger against Taya’s lips to silence her. She took Taya’s wrist,
wrapped a ribbon around it, and bound her to the bedpost. Taya
gasped and giggled. “How wicked,” she murmured.

Katin felt arousal as well, but she knew it
was only her body’s base reaction. She wanted to find something
heavy and hit Taya with it. Instead she hastily bound Taya’s other
hand. The princess moaned now, squirming in anticipation.

But her tone changed when Katin ripped the
sleeve off the princess’s discarded dress, twisted it into a gag,
and wrapped it around Taya’s mouth. The princess grew confused, and
then angry. But she could say nothing, only muffled grunts emitting
from behind the gag. Katin had to dodge aside when the princess
tried to kick her.

Midnight would come any minute now. Katin
had to get out onto the balcony—

Footsteps, and a door closing.
Juliet!
Katin leapt off the bed and rushed over to the door.
The room was lit by wall sconces, but there were also candlesticks.
Katin grabbed one and blew out the candle.

“Your highness, I couldn’t—” Katin swung the
candlestick into the back of Juliet’s head, knocking her to the
floor. Katin felt much worse about hurting the
vala
than she
had about merely tying up the princess. Juliet was possibly the
angriest person Katin had ever met, but she did not inspire
revulsion like Taya did.

Juliet was not unconscious; she moaned in
pain as she lay on the floor. Katin grabbed her arms and dragged
her to the bed, where she used the rest of the ribbons to tie the
vala
to one of the bed’s legs and gag her as well. “I am
very sorry,” she whispered to Juliet.

She stood and looked at the princess again.
Taya’s eyes held poison. Katin said nothing and turned away. She
wrapped a spare blanket around herself and went to the balcony
door.

A chill breeze slithered through the blanket
and her gown as she stood out in the night, waiting, tense. Would
Liam come? Had she just signed her own death warrant? She could
hardly see, even when her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The gardens
below were as dark as pitch. She leaned over the railing and looked
again.

A shadow moved. Or was it her imagination?
She had to risk it. “Liam!” she hissed.

“Katin!” came the reply. “Catch!” The
darkness shifted, and Katin jerked back as something slapped her in
the face. She grabbed it before it could fall again: a thick rope,
knotted at the end. She tied the rope around the railing and
wrapped the blanket around her hands. Going over the railing took a
great deal more nerve than she thought she had, but finally she
flung her legs over and took the rope in her blanket-wrapped hands.
She slid down much faster than she thought she would, the blanket
protecting her hands from friction burns.

Liam caught her as she landed, and she
reflexively embraced him, clinging tight. When she drew her head
back to look at him, he smiled and quickly kissed her, his whiskers
poking her lips. She was startled, but did not object. “Little time
to lose. Come on.”

He led her behind a hedge, to a door that
let back into the palace. Liam carried a small sack, and when they
were hidden again, he pulled a blue woolen dress from it. Not
servants’ dress at all, but an ordinary dress. “Change,” he
commanded in a whisper, and she was too nervous to question him.
She had her wispy silk gown half off before she realized he was
still watching her, but it was too dark to see much. Being ogled by
the man who’d come to rescue her was the least of her worries.