The Queen's Gambit (30 page)

Talmor's temper grew hot, and both the messenger and sergeant turned red and tight-lipped.

Pheresa, perhaps sensing that it was unwise to insult her own palace guards, raised her hands to quell the noise and
turned to the messenger. “Savroix's guardsmen are the bravest fighters in the realm,” she said. “What drove them back?”

“Outnumbered,” the messenger replied, still red-faced. “Eight to one. Damned marauders keep coming, waves of 'em. Boat after boat after boat.”

Lervan stepped forward. “What does it matter if there are thousands of them? Guardsmen of true valor retreat before no one. They should have fought on and—”

“ 'Twas certain suicide, with no hope of stemming such a tide,” the knight said angrily. He wiped some of the blood from his face with the back of his hand. “Our commander ordered us back, saying we're needed to save the palace.”

“Nonsense!” Lervan retorted. “The palace is not in jeopardy. 'Tis only loot they want, and soon they'll be gone. We are in no danger here.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, and several of the councilmen exchanged glances.

The queen saw the looks and her face turned pink, but she returned her gaze to the messenger. “Can the guard not rally at the guild halls and hold the city from that point?” she asked.

More looks were exchanged around the room. Talmor fought to keep from frowning in embarrassment, for the queen's question betrayed terrible ignorance, not only of the situation but also of how battles were fought. Dismay spread through him, for the duc consort was a fool and the queen untested. Talmor felt chilled by the prospect of the realm being in such inexperienced hands.
Someone must advise her,
he thought, sending a fierce look Lord Salba's way.
Someone must speak up, and quickly.

The silence made Pheresa's face redden more. She looked from face to face, her posture stiff now as she obviously realized something was wrong. “You give me no answer, sir knight,” she said at last. “I asked if there cannot be a rally at the guild halls?”

“The enemy numbers too many for a rally, majesty,” the guardsman said. “The guild halls and warehouses were the first to burn down.”

Her face drained of color, and several of the ministers shook their heads gravely.

“This is monstrous,” Lord Salba said. “Monstrous! These looters are not content to steal, but they must also destroy—”

The Duc du Lindier strode in, geared for battle with his breastplate shining and his plumed helmet held under his arm. Looking every inch a marechal tonight, he saluted the queen. “I regret to inform your majesty that another force of barbarians has landed at Telvier Point,” he reported. “At least a thousand men, if not more. They are marching on the palace, and at least half of those looting the town are now marching on us from the south. If your majesty has sent any forces to defend the town, I suggest they be recalled at once.”

Pheresa's face was white. “Merciful Tomias, what are we to do?”

Lervan squared his bullish shoulders. “We shall fight, my dear. More guardsmen must be sent out at once. They'll never enter the park—”

“Nonsense!” Clune sputtered with a stamp of his foot. “Divide our forces and how is the palace to be protected? Defense is—”

“Majesty,” Lindier broke in, staring urgently at his daughter, “messages have been sent by courier to your armies, but it will take days before they respond. The palace guard is not sufficient to hold off a force of this size, although I know they will fight to the last man.”

“Come, your grace, you're frightening the queen unnecessarily,” Lervan said.

Frowning, Lord Salba gripped his chain of office with a white-knuckled hand. “Do you really fear the palace will fall?”

Lindier, who in his younger days had been proclaimed Mandria's greatest marechal, stood there grimly. Gone were his cynical, world-weary expression and wine-blurred voice. He looked alert and implacable, veiled in past glories, a warrior tonight rather than an aging, dissipated courtier.

“My lord,” he replied to Salba, “our counting is no doubt faulty in the darkness. For all we know, there are even more
boats coming, more Vvordsmen landing. This is war, not a raid, and we lie ripe for the taking. We must prepare ourselves for the worst.”

“Impossible!” cried out Lord Fillem. “This is Mandria. This is Savroix. We rule the world. No other realm dares to presume, knowing our forces are the most valiant and will surely rally—”

“Do you expect a miracle to fall from Beyond and save the palace?” Lindier said harshly. “We have no army. We cannot defend!”

“But the guardsmen—”

“—can hold off attack long enough for evacuation . . .
perhaps.
Nothing more. 'Tis impossible, with the forces at hand, to withstand what comes against us tonight.”

Scowling, Meaclan now chose to speak up. “For the past ten years I've warned against underfinancing the army. And now—”

“Never mind what we should have done,” Clune interrupted gruffly. “If it's flight, then let's to it!”

No one made a move to leave the privy chamber. Pheresa's eyes were huge with fear and despair.

Salba lifted his wise old head and looked at Talmor. “Sir Talmor, you have fought these raiders in the past. You alone in this room have had direct experience with them. Tell us what you know.”

All eyes turned to him. Talmor drew himself erect and stepped forward. Although the old chancellor had asked the question, it was to the queen that he spoke his answer: “The Vvordsmen are ferocious fighters who do not fear death. They follow no standard rules of battle. Chivalry? They know none. Mercy? They give none. If you think it's possible to strike a bargain with them, you delude yourself. They will not do it. They fight until they have what they came for. Their losses mean nothing to them. They don't even collect their own wounded or dead. As for prisoners, they take them only for slaves. Those captives deemed unsuitable for their purposes are killed.”

Shocked silence fell over the room. The queen stared at
Talmor with her lips slightly parted, and her hand tightened on her husband's arm.

Lervan gave her a comforting pat and gestured dismissively at Talmor. “If you mean to bring our spirits even lower than they were before, you've succeeded. What encouragement are we to find in your words?”

“ 'Tis the truth, your grace,” Talmor said quietly.

“Well, say no more of this gloomy talk. You are frightening the queen, and undermining the courage of these good men.”

“It is necessary that all present understand our foe,” Talmor said. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he turned to Lindier. “Your grace, if we abandon the idea of defending the palace and instead concentrate our—”

“Be silent!” Lervan snapped. “The marechal requires no advice from you. Resume your place, sir!”

Talmor refused to back down. “Then will your grace advise the queen to flee while there is still a chance of getting her to safety?”

“No!” Pheresa said in wide-eyed alarm. “I will not run away.”

The council all began talking at once, and Talmor, increasingly conscious of time running out, despaired of accomplishing anything.

Pheresa kept shaking her head at every attempt to persuade her. “Nay, I cannot abandon my people simply to save myself.”

“If your majesty is captured and held hostage for ransom,” Lord Salba said, “what could be more devastating to Mandria?”

Stubbornness reddened her face. “I am no coward, my lord. I will not retreat.”

“The palace will fall,” Lindier said. “The queen's safety cannot be guaranteed.”

“I will not run away! And the palace will not fall. I will speak to the men and rally their courage. Mandrian knights are worth ten thousand Vvordsmen. My guards can hold off these invaders.”

“Pheresa, have sense, for Thod's sake!” Lindier said in exasperation. “Savroix cannot be defended. You must give the order for the court to flee while there is still time.”

“For the sake of your majesty's unborn child and heir, fly to safety,” Lord Salba urged her.

Talmor, watching her, thought she was about to concede, but then she stiffened. “All Mandria will say that at the first sign of trouble their new queen fled. All Mandria will say the queen is a coward and unworthy to rule.”

“All Mandria will say 'tis better to have a queen alive and safe than a fool held for ransom,” Lindier muttered.

She glared at her father, but only he dared say aloud what all of them were thinking.

Meaclan stepped forward. “Your majesty
is
Mandria. The palace is not. The palace can be rebuilt, but your majesty is all that is most precious and vital to this realm.”

She stared at her minister of finance, and Talmor knew hope that she would listen to this man if no other. “My lord,” she said to Meaclan, “let both servants and courtiers depart if they wish. I will not prevent them from seeking what safety they can find. But how can I abandon them? Is my royal duty not here?”

Lord Salba stepped forward. “But, majesty, no one can depart unless the queen leaves first.”

Her eyes widened, and contrition filled her expression. She bowed her head. “Oh. I—I had forgotten this. Forgive me in thinking only of my pride. I would not preserve it at the expense of other lives.”

Lervan kissed her hand. “No one questions the queen's bravery.”

She managed a tremulous smile for him. “It's just that everything inside me hates the thought of abandoning Savroix to these barbarians. To flee, leaving the palace open—”

“Nay,” Lervan said at once. “I shall remain behind to command the guardsmen.”

“You!” Fresh alarm filled her face, and she clutched him. “Oh, no! You must not risk yourself.”

“I assure you that if the danger presses too close, I shall
run for my life. The guardsmen and Sir Maltric will keep me safe.”

“But, my love—”

Talmor turned away, unable to go on listening. Quietly he went to the door and issued orders for the queen's household to pack essentials and exit the palace via the east gate. Meaclan and Clune also dispatched orders for the immediate evacuation of their personal households.

By the time Talmor returned, the matter was settled. With tears in her eyes, Pheresa agreed to leave her consort behind to defend Savroix, delaying discovery of her flight for as long as possible.

“Splendid,” Lindier said in approval. “The men will fight all the better knowing one member of the royal party remains behind for them to protect.”

Pheresa opened her mouth, but her father continued: “And they will be heartened to know their queen is safely away, out of danger.”

She sighed. “Inform the men that the queen honors their courage.”

Lindier turned to Talmor. “Protector, heed this. Two companies of men will travel with her majesty for her protection. The queen's barge can take you upriver—”

“But, your grace—”

Lindier lifted his hand to quell Talmor. “Retreat as you deem best to protect her. I recommend that you go as far as Scice, perhaps, or even Aversuel. Just get her out of harm's way.”

Talmor had no intention of taking the queen to either town. Whoever had planned this attack was well informed, perhaps even guided by a traitor within the palace. Those were the first locations anyone bent on capturing the queen would search. As for trying to flee on the royal barge, he refused to even consider an action so ill-advised. The Vvordsmen's boats were shallow-keeled, more than capable of going upriver from the harbor. If they overtook the queen's enormous, slow-moving barge, defending her would be difficult indeed. Nay, he'd already formed a different plan. But without argument,
he bowed to the marechal. Let the man think he agreed with him. Anything to get the queen moving away from Savroix.

“Aye, your grace,” he said crisply.

Dismissing her council, Pheresa turned to bid a tearful farewell to Lervan and pleaded with him to take care.

Looking excited by the danger, he grinned at her. “Morde a day, my dear, as the uplanders say. I'll show these savages what Mandrian knights are made of, damne if I don't.”

Lindier broke in on such bravado. “Fear not, Pheresa. Lervan will get safely away in time. I shall see to it personally.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Father.”

Lord Salba bent his head close to Talmor's. “There are secret ways beneath the palace, many of them designed for such contingencies as these.”

“Aye, my lord,” Talmor said. “When I was a guard, I occasionally patrolled the catacombs.”

“I warn you, sir, that if you go that way you put the queen's safety in the hands of the priests.”

The old man's eyes held a significant warning, and Talmor nodded. “Understood.”

“There is an alternative,” Salba said and placed an iron key in Talmor's hand.