The Queen's Gambit (46 page)

The physician arrived and, knowing others would require proof that she was untainted from this Nonkind attack, Pheresa submitted to the man's examination. The priest prayed over her, giving her unction. Had she been tainted, the holy oil would have burned her. Kneeling before him with a scroll of Writ in her hands, Pheresa waited until he finished his blessing before she rose to her feet.

“I want new quarters,” she announced.

“Majesty, we have searched every inch of this—”

“It got in somehow. I cannot use these rooms with peace of mind.” She glanced at the bed as she spoke, and shuddered. She could never sleep in it again.

With much bustle and commotion the move was achieved. Meanwhile, the entire hold was searched from cellar to turret roof and every servant was questioned. Sir Bosquecel gave
the sentries on duty at Pheresa's door a blistering reprimand and ordered them locked up for further interrogation. In the afternoon he reported to Pheresa to apologize officially on Thirst's behalf for having failed to safeguard her.

At the end of the week, an assembly was mustered in the Hall. No other Nonkind had been discovered in the hold, but everyone remained uneasy. Lord Renald had ridden over from Lunt to inquire about the queen's health, and this small chink in the hostility of the upland chevards toward her was encouraging. Mindful of what Thum had said to her about insulting the chevards when she first came, she received Lord Renald graciously as though he had not previously joined with the others in defying her. But she was distracted this day, and gave him little time, for Talmor was to be tried.

The latest claim against Talmor was that as a Believer, he had summoned the soultaker into the hold and commanded it to attack the queen.

Such a preposterous accusation infuriated her. She argued hard in his defense, saying that Talmor had proven his innocence by surviving cauterization with a magicked blade. But Sir Thum pointed out that as long as Talmor eluded an accounting he would only continue to look guilty. Besides, no other explanation for the soultaker's presence in the hold could be found.

Pheresa's popularity among the Thirst knights had soared since the attack. Tales of her courage had circled the barracks. The fact that she'd fought off a soultaker, one of the most loathsome and dangerous of all Nonkind, and destroyed it without assistance had rendered her a heroine in the men's eyes. She was once again the Lady of the Chalice, and each time she appeared the knights and peasants cheered her lustily.

She wished her popularity was strong enough for her to establish Talmor's innocence on her word alone. She told herself that she must show complete confidence in his innocence. Accordingly, she was attired in her best gown and sat in a tall chair with carved arms, the Saelutian dagger lying in her lap beneath her hand. Her hair was dressed in the most elaborate court fashion, and she wore her diadem. Her ladies in waiting
were also attired in their best, and the costly exquisiteness of formal court raiment provided a dazzling contrast to the plain, old-fashioned Hall and the knights garbed in serviceable hauberks. Beneath torchlight shining to dispel the gloom of yet another snowy day, Pheresa's jewels glittered and flashed fire at her slightest movement. She sat erect, stony-faced, and regal, and every person who entered the Hall was made forcibly aware of her majesty.

Watching the knights gawk at her, then hastily assume their places, Pheresa thought how easy it was to impress simple folk with a bit of panoply. Sir Kelchel, still on duty as her protector for the lack of anyone better, plus five other knights, stood behind her with grim alertness.

Lord Renald entered, clad in a red velvet tunic, his long hair brushing his fine shoulders. A look of appreciation showed on his face as he bowed deeply to her. She favored him with a regal gesture of acknowledgment and permitted him to sit next to her. On her other side stood another tall chair, its back embroidered with Thirst's coat of arms surmounted by a small crown. A bare sword lay across the seat in representation of Faldain's authority. Sir Thum took the chair next to it. And beside him, his leg propped up on a stool, sat Sir Bosquecel.

Off to the side stood the priest, holding a bowl of holy water and a Circle. Behind him waited a cluster of guards, alert in case anything should go wrong. An air of anticipation filled the Hall. The hubbub grew louder until the herald pounded on the floor with his staff and called out for order.

A hush fell across the crowd, and the doors opened to admit Talmor and his guards. He walked in unaided, and Pheresa's heart leapt at the sight of him. He was terribly thin, and the strain of his injury had worn his face, but he carried himself erect, walking with a trace of that old lithe stride. He wore a plain tunic of gray wool, a color that did not suit him at all, and his empty sleeve was tucked inside his belt.

Slowly but steadily, he advanced until he stood before her. His honey-colored gaze met hers, but slid away as though they were strangers. Although she wanted to cry out in
dismay, she held herself silent, aware of the watching faces, and permitted no expression to cross her face either.

Talmor bowed, slightly and carefully. An involuntary pull of his mouth revealed that the movement gave him pain.

The herald stepped in front of him. “Sir Talmor of the queen's service,” he cried in a voice loud enough to be heard to the back of the room, “you are brought forth to answer charges of sorcery, treason, and endangerment of the queen's life. Will you hear those charges and answer them truthfully?”

“I will.”

“Will you swear your honesty on a scroll of holy Writ?”

“I will swear.”

A page stepped forward, holding a wooden tray where lay a scroll. Pheresa's dagger began to glow faintly inside its sheath. With a start she recognized the scroll as the one she'd taken from Sulein's quarters. In all the confusion since, she'd forgotten about it, had forgotten her intention to see it returned to the turret as something better left alone. She glanced at Sir Thum, and saw both him and Sir Bosquecel watching Talmor intently. Realizing they had laid a trap for her man, she tightened her lips angrily.

There was no way to warn him. She braced herself for whatever might come, and vowed silently that whatever these tricksters of Thirst did today, she would somehow see real justice done.

With his left hand Talmor reached out to pick up the scroll. Pheresa could hardly bear to watch. She believed his powers would either allow him to handle it without harm, or else he would sense it was dangerous ahead of time. Either reaction would prove him to be a
sorcerel
.

“Take it and swear,” the herald said sternly.

Talmor's hand closed around the scroll. Shock flashed in his face and with an oath, he flung the scroll at the hearth. It missed the fire and went rolling beneath the benches where some of the pages were seated. Jumping up, they went after it. Shaking his hand in obvious pain, Talmor glared angrily at Sir Thum.

Meanwhile, Lord Renald sprang to his feet with his hand on his sword. “So Writ proves you to be—”

“Hold yourself, my lord!” Pheresa commanded, raising her hand to stop him from cutting Talmor down. Her furious glare swept the others. “This is supposed to an accounting, sirs. Put an end to such trickery.”

A cry of pain from one of the pages made her glance his way. Murmuring swept through the Hall, and Pheresa said, “Let no one save the priest pick up the scroll and bring it forth.”

The priest, his tonsure freshly shaved, and his robes new for the occasion, looked startled. “Majesty,” he said, looking disconcerted. “I—I fear I—”

“Do as the queen commands!” Lord Renald said sharply.

Putting down the ewer of holy water, the priest cautiously approached the scroll. Using a fold of his wide sleeve, he picked it up off the floor and brought it back.

“This is not Writ!” he announced. “Who has substituted this evil thing in the place of truth?”

“Who indeed?” Pheresa asked. She glared at Sir Thum as she spoke, but he seemed unmoved as he gestured to Talmor.

“Come forth, sir,” Thum said, “and show us your hand.”

Angrily Talmor obeyed him. His palm was red from where he'd touched the scroll.

Sir Thum nodded. “Let it be noted,” he announced, “that this scroll is spell-locked and does no doubt contain evil writings.”

The priest dropped it on the floor and stepped back hastily, making the sign of the Circle.

“It was taken from the old turret where Sulein, a known dabbler in the dark arts, did keep his possessions,” Sir Thum went on.

“Sulein!” Sir Bosquecel said, coming suddenly to life. “That foreign dog was an evil man, a betrayer, and a charlatan. Thirst is well rid of him!”

Several knights drew the sign of the Circle. Pheresa wished now that she had never taken the scroll, but had she not gone to Sulein's quarters, she would not have found this
magicked dagger that had saved Talmor's life, and her own. Her fingers tightened on it possessively before she suddenly remembered how Gavril had fallen under the spell of Tanengard until it drove him mad. She forced her hand off the dagger entirely.

“Aye,” Thum agreed. “Thirst is well rid of Sulein, a bad man, who came to a bad end. As many of you know, King Faldain commanded Sulein's possessions to be left undisturbed, lest harm come to any servant attempting to destroy these artifacts. No, good priest, do not kick the scroll onto the fire. Leave it lie where it is for now.”

Uneasily the priest retreated. Again, murmuring swept the Hall, and Talmor glanced briefly at Pheresa before he faced Sir Thum. “How many other tricks am I to endure?” he demanded.

Sir Thum sent him a cool look indeed. “Let us instead say that you have passed one test, proving to every man in this room that you are no caster of spells. If you were, the scroll would not have burned you.”

Talmor frowned, and Pheresa sent Sir Thum a look of grudging respect.

Thum gestured at the priest, who brought forth a scroll of genuine Writ and handed it warily to Talmor.

Holding it in his hand, Talmor turned about to face the assembly. “I have agreed to answer the charges against me truthfully. This do I swear.” He handed the Writ back to the priest.

Lord Renald resumed his seat beside Pheresa, but he was frowning. “Get on with it,” he said to the herald. “I promised my family I'd be home in time for Selwinmas feast.”

With a little bow, the herald cleared his throat and faced Talmor once more. “Hear the first charge! You are accused of casting fire.”

“He's a fire-knight!” someone shouted from the back of the room. “I saw him feed that hurlhound with fire. Saw him as plain as plain! He's a Gantese devil, and he's got no right to live!”

Commotion broke out. The herald pounded his staff on the
floor, but no one heeded him. Talmor whirled around, his eyes darting as though he sought the one who'd spoken.

“Come forth!” he shouted, clenching his fist. “Say that to my face, sir, and I'll give you challenge for answer.”

More shouting rose up. “Let 'em fight! Trial by combat!”

Fear swept Pheresa at what these crazy fools might do. As for Talmor, why could he not keep his temper? He was making things worse.

Unable to remain a bystander any longer, she rose to her feet. With flashing eyes, and a set face, she stared them down until a restless muttering quiet filled the Hall once more. “The queen has been told that Thirst is the most backward corner of the uplands,” Pheresa said in a ringing voice. “The queen did not believe it until she came here and saw for herself what bigotry and idle superstition plagues the hearts of men otherwise valiant and true. For shame, men of Thirst. For shame!”

“He casts fire, majesty!” the man at the back of the room shouted. “He's a fire-knight, the worst kind!”

“The enchanters of Saelutia wield fire. So also do the
sorcerels
of Nether. In battle, they create huge pillars of flames to confound the enemy.” Her gaze swept their angry, fearful faces, then settled on her physician. “You, learned sir, use fire to clean your instruments of surgery. Fire is a cleansing force as well as a destructive one.”

“That foreign demon fed the hurlhound fire, yer grace!” shouted another knight. “I fought there that day for ye. I saw it!”

“And I saw it, too!” she retorted. “I saw a man who had never fought Nonkind before unleash a weapon wrongly and mistakenly.”

Sir Thum rose to his feet and bowed. “Forgive my presumption, majesty, but perhaps 'twould be better to let the man answer for himself.”

Anger scorched her, but she resumed her seat. Glancing at Talmor, she saw him looking at her quizzically, his dark head tilted to one side. She felt a wave of heat rise into her cheeks, and dropped her gaze from his like a shy maiden. Her heart suddenly pounded.

“Well, Sir Talmor?” Thum asked. “Witnesses, including the queen, have seen you wield fire. How do you answer this charge?”

“ 'Tis true,” Talmor said. “In an effort to save the queen's life, and that of Sir Bosquecel, I did unleash fire against the hurlhound to destroy it.”

“But the monster was not destroyed.”