The Queen of Mages (50 page)

———

Relief flooded her as they emerged into the
stableyard. They’d fought through another group of armed Eltasi men
who had confronted them in the halls. The guards had yelled at them
to surrender, and Amira yelled back, and then Mason and Garen were
yelling too, and when one of the Eltasi men lunged forward, Garen
had set off a thunderclap that had knocked the man back down the
corridor. He had come to a rest sprawled on the floor; unconscious,
maybe dead. Amira couldn’t make herself look at him as they passed.
The other guards had panicked and fled, and she had trembled even
though she had the upper hand—or perhaps because she had it.

“Horses! Now!” Mason shouted at a pair of
wide-eyed stablehands who stood in the yard. Only when he shouted
again did the boys hop to.

Amira could sense the tension radiating from
her companions. Dardan especially seemed to be agitated. Garen was
calmer; Mason spoke only in short, terse eruptions. She wondered
why she was noticing all this now. Shouldn’t she be panicking?
Focusing on the danger at hand? What was wrong with her? She felt
light-headed and held onto Dardan’s arm for a moment.

Horses were brought forth almost at once:
Mason’s white stallion Hawthorn for him to ride, as well as three
of Eltasi’s stock for the others. “Now we’re horse thieves as
well,” Dardan muttered.

“I believe the circumstances justify it,”
Mason said. He kept his eyes focused on the castle doors behind
them.

Amira’s dress was not split for riding, but
propriety was the last thing on her mind. She mounted and let her
dress ride up, exposing the petticoats and her ankles beneath, and
led the way out through the gate, which by some miracle had not
been closed. Not that it would have stopped them, but she felt
they’d already made quite enough of an impact today.

They cantered down the main road, knifing
through the crowds and slowing to a walk only once they neared
their inn. “Duke Eltasi may still send riders after us,” Dardan
said. “He will still think in the old way, despite what you’ve just
done.”

Garen and Mason waited outside while Amira
and Dardan went to their suite to gather the belongings they’d left
behind. Dardan stopped on the way out to deposit a bag of silver
with the innkeeper and settle their account. “No sense burning any
more bridges,” he said to his wife, and she could not bring herself
to argue. They left the Eltasi mounts behind and retrieved their
own from the stable.

No one tried to stop them when they left
Seawatch through its gate. Either the news of what had transpired
at the castle had not reached them, or someone had the sense to not
waste more guards’ lives trying to stop the mages. Still, Dardan
insisted that they should ride many miles before stopping.

Amira twisted to look back at the limestone
walls of Seawatch as they dwindled away. The story would spread, no
doubt. How would the powers of Garova react to this new threat?
Would they unite behind their king? A few mages could easily upset
the balance of power; a duke or a count—
or a countess
—who
gathered a few loyal mages could suddenly become a major threat.
What would the commoners think? The people of Stony Vale had stood
by Amira, and for that she would be forever grateful, but something
told her that the future would not be so easy.

They finally stopped after an hour so that
Amira could change out of her gown and into something more
practical. One of the dresses she’d gotten in Stony Vale was split
for riding, but instead she hid behind her horse and put on her
old, travel-stained wool and leathers. The old order had been
shattered; who was there left to impress?

They mounted up again and rode on. Amira saw
that Garen still looked exhausted and stunned. “Are you all right?”
she asked.

Garen grinned. “I think I did better that
time.”

“It may not always go so well,” she
cautioned him. “It’s… it’s not too late for you to return to Stony
Vale, if you wish.”

Garen shook his head. “No. You were right.
If I stay there, well, that Penrose bastard might come back for me.
I’m better off with you.”

Mason had ridden close. “Warden Penrose may
lack compassion, but he is still a Warden and obedient to our king
and our Order, and deserving of proper respect,” he interjected. If
the recent altercation had unsettled him, he didn’t show it. Amira
felt cold fear wash over her at the memory of it, even though it
had been hours.

But she was also greatly annoyed by his
tone. How dare he defend Penrose at a time like this? “I’m afraid
I’m not as forgiving as you, Warden. When people try to kill me, I
do not praise them for their valor. In case you’ve already
forgotten, the very first quarrel was aimed at you in particular.
Surely your obedience to Edon does not extend to permitting his
minions to murder you for no reason.”

Mason beetled his brow and looked away. “I’m
certain it was an oversight on Duke Eltasi’s part. He assumed that
any companion of yours was equally guilty of treason. If he had
known my correct role, he would not have attempted to harm me.” But
he kicked Hawthorn’s side and rode ahead a few dozen yards,
nullifying the possibility of any further argument.

Dardan had listened quietly to the exchange.
“Must you try to provoke him?”

Amira shrugged. “He’s the one seeking
provocation. I think it is a diversion. A man who truly believed in
the strength of his oaths would not have to work so hard to honor
them.”

For three days Liam recuperated in Lisa and
James Cordway’s house. He and Katin had to stay hidden; if anyone
in the town became aware of their presence, it could ruin his whole
plan. Liam thanked the Caretaker every hour that the thugs who’d
confronted them that first day didn’t show up at the Cordways’
door.

Their daughter, Samantha, had to be warned
firmly not to tell anyone about Katin and Liam’s presence. Liam
watched from a doorway as James cautioned his daughter. The girl
nodded firmly at his instructions, sparing a quick glance for Liam,
apprehension and curiosity in her eyes.

Liam carefully cleaned his travel-worn
clothes and washed himself in the Cordways’ garden, hidden from
prying eyes by the tall hedge. Lisa Cordway lent him her comb to
brush the tangles and knots out of his hair, which had begun to
grow long in the weeks since Hedenham. As the sun set, he met James
in the Cordways’ sitting room, which made up the front half of
their house. Lisa had taken the children into the bedroom, but
Katin appeared in the doorway, watching the men.

Liam turned away from her for a moment.
There’s still time to back out. She’ll be insufferable if I
fail. Of course, I’ll be dead if I fail.
“It’s time I was
going,” he said to James.

The taller man nodded back at him,
uncertainty written plainly on his face. He glanced at Katin for a
moment, then spoke in a near-whisper to Liam. “We’ll get her out
somewhere safe if… if we need to.”

Liam felt a pervading anxiety, and he hadn’t
even gone out the door yet. He clasped James’s hand. “Be
ready.”

He went over to Katin. She leaned against
the kitchen doorway, arms crossed. “You know I have to do this,” he
said.

His plan had only stayed a secret for half a
day. Katin had known something was afoot when James offered to let
them stay as long as they want and Liam hadn’t objected. “You’d
never stay in one place like this without a reason,” she’d sniffed
at him.

How could he hide it from her? If he did
fail, she couldn’t be left to wonder where he’d gone and what he
was doing. So he’d told her what he aimed to do. She’d listened
quietly, and when he finished, she did not berate him, she did not
tell him he was mad. Instead she’d offered some suggestions.

But her smile was gone. In those weeks in
the caravan he’d seen it plenty, once they’d settled into a
routine. Now, a permanent grimness had welled up from
somewhere.

She relaxed not a hair as he stood before
her. “Just be careful. You won’t get more than one chance.”

There was nothing more to say. He kissed her
once and went out the door.

———

The wide dirt paths that made for streets in
Carson’s Watch were deserted by sundown. Nobody wanted to be caught
out in the dark by Adeline’s thugs, no matter what business they
might have. Samantha Cordway had brought home tales each night of
townsfolk harassed and assaulted.

But Liam was counting on it. He made
straight for the town square, letting his legs stretch out. It felt
good to walk, even if he was still sore from the beating. He
reminded himself to seek out the town’s temple and pray at the
altar of Sacrifice. And then find a malthouse… if he survived the
night.

Liam found no one in the town square, not
frightened townsfolk or swaggering thugs. The inn stood quiet and
desolate, the walls scorched. At least it did still stand, unlike
the trade office across the square. That building was gutted, the
roof collapsed. It happened to sit apart from the other buildings,
which was probably why the whole town hadn’t gone up in flames when
Adeline burned it.
Don’t play with fire, children.

He waited around as the last daylight faded,
but no one came. When the square was lit only by starlight and the
faint glow of distant hearths, he turned west and walked. According
to James, Adeline Broxton had taken over some merchant’s house on
the edge of town. The house was easy to find, even in the dark. It
was the tallest in Carson’s Watch, the only two-story building
besides the inn, and brightly lit. Liam heard the noise before he
saw it. Coarse laughter and a periodic thumping sound floated down
the lane toward him. He touched the dagger at the small of his back
to reassure himself, then walked up the gravel path to the house.
He wondered who the merchant was who owned it, and what had
happened to him.

The door stood wide open. So this Adeline
thought the whole town was hers; she could waste her hearthfire,
letting the warm air waft out into the darkness. Stealing more
firewood from the locals would be easy for her.

Liam’s boot creaked the front steps, and a
man in a grimy black woolen coat leaned out the door. “What do you
want?”

Liam came to a halt where the lamps inside
lit him clearly. The man would have a good look at his face.
And
here we go.
He summoned up every ounce of haughtiness he could,
every raised eyebrow and arch tone of voice he’d ever seen or heard
from Dardan, or Asmus, or any of the other nobles he’d ever come
across in the parlors of Callaston and Hedenham. He planted his
fists on his hips and lifted his chin. “And who, precisely, are you
supposed to be?”

The man frowned a little. “Name’s Black
Tom,” he said, trying to sound menacing, but uncertainty crept in,
even in those three little words.

“And I presume this is where one might find
Miss Adeline Broxton, hmm?”

Heartbeats passed, and then something
clicked in Black Tom. His head ducked only a fraction, but Liam saw
it. The man had marked Liam as a noble, despite his common clothes.
“Uh, yes, uh… m’lord? She’s right inside. Um, wait there. If
y’please.” He backed away, then rushed down the hall and through a
door.

Liam ignored the instruction and stepped
inside, doffing his hat. He’d borrowed it from James Cordway, and
it was almost comically overlarge, but with luck he wouldn’t need
to put it on again.

The tenor of the voices from within changed,
and the thumping sound stopped. Liam forced himself to be patient.
Nobles wait for introductions.
Suddenly a shrill voice cut
through the noise. “Well bring him here!” Black Tom came back out,
looking frightened. He gestured through the door. “This way,
m’lord.”

Liam nodded stiffly and strode past,
ignoring Black Tom completely. He passed into what must be a
sitting room. It was almost as large as the Cordways’ entire house.
Quite a well-off merchant. This Adeline went straight to the
richest man in town.
Liam wasn’t going to hold out hope that
the merchant was still alive.

The sitting room was strewn with people, men
and women both. The thugs who had rained terror upon the townsfolk
were the bulk of those present: hard-eyed, rough-edged, clothed in
wool and leather and even some mail that had seen better days, all
with daggers or swords or clubs at their sides. Some stood; others
slouched on chairs or settees or the floor, cups of wine or ale at
hand. One man sitting by the hearth had a drum clasped between his
knees. Apparently that was the best musical talent Adeline had been
able to scrounge up. The women all seemed to be half-clothed,
wrapped in the thugs’ grimy arms, eyes nervously casting about.

All except one woman, who sat in a
high-backed chair beside the roaring hearth. She wore a scarlet
gown, a garment one would only properly wear to a ball or masque,
or perhaps even a town dance, but never for lounging about. She
looked like a girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes: the
gown was cut wrong for her, too low in the bodice, for breasts that
just weren’t there. Her dark hair was undone all around her
shoulders, but it looked messy, not alluring. Her skin was too
sun-browned to be that of a wealthy woman who stayed indoors or
took a parasol out on strolls.

Liam took all this in as he walked up to her
and inclined his head slightly. “You must be Adeline Broxton.”
Every eye in the room centered upon him, but he kept his attention
on Adeline. The heat had made him start to sweat.

She stood up at once, glaring at him. “You
have the honor of addressing the Baroness Adeline Broxton.” She
held out her hand, as if he should kneel and kiss it.

He stayed on his feet but took her hand and
bent over it, letting his lips brush it slightly. He kept his eyes
locked on hers. “Forgive me, baroness. I was not made aware of your
station.”

Her hostility had faded to confusion. “Who
are you?”

“A weary traveller seeking to meet the one
whom I was told is the true power in these parts. Might I trouble
you for a cup of wine?”

She waved a hand at someone, and Liam found
a pewter mug pressed into his hand. He drank deep, still without
taking his eyes from hers, then held the cup out until someone took
it. He didn’t know who; it didn’t matter. If he had her, he had
them all.

“What is your name?” Adeline asked.

“I have heard much about your power. I
believe I can be of some assistance to you.”

Adeline started slightly. “What do you know
of my… of this?” she said. The caution had returned, but she was
still fascinated by him.

“I know that you are not the only one who
has it. I know that you have certainly heard the rumors from the
north and west, of King Edon.”

All conversation had stopped when he came
in, but now a few voices muttered at the king’s name. Adeline
finally tore her eyes away, to give a warning glare at someone.
Liam still did not look away. “Rumors and nonsense,” Adeline said.
“None have my power.”

“Ah, but they do. Edon himself tore down a
castle, striking as if he commanded lightning itself, blasting
stone walls apart like a child smashing wooden blocks.”

“Lies…” she trailed off. “Where did you hear
this?”

“Hear this?” Liam laughed, dismissive. “My
lady, I saw this with my own eyes. I was
there
.”

Adeline’s voice grew faint. “Who
are
you?”

“Forgive me, my lady.” He stepped back, and
swept a formal bow. “You have the honor of addressing Count Dardan
Tarian of Hedenham County.”

Someone laughed behind him. “You, a count?
In clothes like that? Where’s your
valo
?”

Liam turned around, as slowly as he could
make himself. A bearded man with an angry red scar on one cheek
stood up and stared defiantly at him.

“I’ll assume you’ve simply had too much to
drink and forgotten your manners,” Liam said. He took a step toward
the man, holding his hands wide. “My
valo
, you see, was
killed when King Edon attacked us, at Foxhill Keep in the north of
Hedenham.” Step. “As was my father, and his
valo
, and my
family’s master-at-arms, blacksmith, and captain of guards. Men I
have known my whole life.” Step. “King Edon is out for Tarian
blood. So let me ask you this, good sir: Would you travel openly as
a noble, when the king had learned magic and wanted your head?”

He stood at arm’s reach from the
scar-cheeked man, whose expression had not softened but who now
crossed his arms petulantly. Liam held his gaze for a moment
longer, then scoffed and turned around. His heart raced, but he
kept an arrogant grin on his lips. “My lady, I fear you need better
courtiers. These are no fit companions for a noblewoman.”

Adeline looked unconvinced. “If you are who
you say you are, what are you doing here? Why not go to your duke
for help?”

He hadn’t expected that question. “Alas, it
is not so simple.”
Turn it around. Buy time.
“How much
experience have you with noble politics, my lady?”

“Uh… some.” An obvious lie. Adeline had been
a farmwife a month ago; if she really knew anything of how nobles
dealt with one another, he’d eat James’s hat.

“Well, then you must certainly be aware that
House Arkhail has many close ties to House Relindos—they would be
just as likely to turn me in themselves if I went there for aid.
Thus I seek assistance from others who are more removed from the
royal court.” He reached out to her, and she put her hand in his
without seeming to realize quite what she’d done. “Thank the Aspect
of Chaos that I’ve found you. Edon shares the power you have, but I
think you could be even greater.”

Adeline’s lips parted slightly, and her eyes
unfocused. Liam had slowly drawn closer to her. But then that
grating voice came again from behind. “He’s a liar. Kill him!”
shouted Scar-cheek.

Liam sighed in exasperation, and turned to
berate the man again—
pray he hasn’t got his sword out
already—
but before he could, there was a loud
pop
and
several people in the room shouted or screamed. Scar-cheek thumped
onto his knees, his blade clattering to the floor as he clutched at
his arm. Liam had started to reach for his own dagger—that old
reflex—but he stopped himself mid-turn. Adeline’s finger,
outstretched, pointed at Scar-cheek.

“No one touches the count,” Adeline said as
commandingly as a young farmer girl could.

Aside from Edon’s attack at Foxhill Keep,
Liam had never seen the power used. He’d expected to be terrified,
but instead found himself simply astonished, and then excited.
Such a weapon!

The faint aroma of charred meat filled the
air as Scar-cheek struggled to his feet. “My… apologies… m’lady.”
He bowed toward her, but his eyes held only hatred for Liam.

Liam let his eyebrows crawl back down to
their normal station, and looked at Adeline again. “That was quite
remarkable, my lady. It is good to see that you do not hesitate to
deal with those who need… to be dealt with.” He grimaced inwardly.
That sounded idiotic.
Liam gave his best smile to cover it.
“Might I suggest a meal? I’m quite famished.”

“But… the servants have already washed
up…”

“So? You are their
lady
,” Liam
whispered.