The Queen's Gambit (47 page)

Muscles bunched in Talmor's jaw. “No, it was not. The fire made it stronger. I had never seen a hurlhound before. I did not realize my mistake until it was too late.”

“How come you to possess such magical powers? Are you Gantese?”

“No. My mother was a priestess of the Saelutian cult that worships Aldana, goddess of fire.”

Fresh shouting broke out, but Talmor waited until it was quelled before he continued. “She rebelled against the rules of her order, fled to Mandria, and did bewitch my father for a time. When I was born, she acknowledged that she had sinned against her vows to Aldana. She left me in Mandria and went back to the islands, where she was punished by being sacrificed to the goddess.”

“Then you acknowledge that you are a
sorcerel.
”

“No. I am cursed with fire that brings harm to others. After many years and harsh training, I learned to control it.”

The herald frowned, and Sir Thum leaned forward. “You control it by using it as a weapon?”

“No. I control it only by not using it. Otherwise, it brings disaster.”

“Explain.”

Talmor's frown deepened, and Pheresa held her breath in certainty that he would be too prideful to obey.

“Explain, Sir Talmor.”

Thum's sharp tone seemed to get through to Talmor. “When I was a boy,” he said slowly, his eyes clouded with memories, “I was hot-tempered and full of arrogance, as boys often are. One day in a quarrel with my older half brother I unleashed the fire. I nearly killed him, and my father banished me forever from his hold.”

He paused a moment while the Hall remained silent. “On the day I hurt my brother, I vowed before Thod that I would never let the fire escape me willingly again. I kept that vow until the queen was attacked. Once again the fire caused only disaster. Believe me, sir knights, it is indeed a curse I would thankfully relinquish.”

Pheresa stared at him while the quiet lengthened, and felt tears of pride sting her eyes.
Well said,
she longed to tell him.

Sir Thum nodded. “I have fought fire-knights,” he announced. “As you all know, I was once their captive and lived for a time imprisoned in Gant. To become a fire-knight, a Believer must eat the fire of Ashnod. In doing so, through a series of horrible rituals, he becomes so burned and mutilated that he is too horrific-looking for mortal eyes to bear. Whatever Sir Talmor is, he is no fire-eater.”

Noise swelled through the Hall, and beneath the din Talmor and Sir Thum exchanged a long, level look. Watching them, Pheresa realized anew how immensely clever Sir Thum was.

The herald rapped on the floor with his staff. “Hear the second charge! Did you, Sir Talmor, plot treason to abduct the queen, thus forcing her to abdicate her throne and permit the usurper Lervan to take her place?”

A furious roar filled the Hall, with everyone shouting at once. Pheresa found herself on her feet without realizing it. She glared at Thum, but he and Sir Bosquecel were scowling angrily, looking equally surprised.

Talmor was white around the lips with fury. “Who laid that charge?” he demanded. “Let the man come forth!”

For a moment no one responded, but then the priest defiantly shoved his way forward. “I did!” he cried shrilly. “On written orders of my bishop. I have them here.”

Pulling out a document, he handed it to the herald, who in turn handed it to Sir Thum. While he read, Pheresa seethed. “Another plot of the church,” she muttered angrily, and flung up her hand for quiet.

As the noise died down, she said, “My council persuaded me to leave Savroix while it was under attack. Sir Talmor
protected me from the abduction of a church knight named Sir Brillon, who meant to see me imprisoned.” She paused a moment to draw breath. “And I have
not
abdicated my throne!”

A new cheer went up. Sir Thum tore the letter in half and nodded to the herald.

“By testimony of her majesty, Queen of Mandria,” the herald called out, “the accused stands cleared of the second charge. If any doth protest the clearance of this charge, let that man speak now or forever hold his tongue.”

Quiet fell over the Hall, and after a moment the herald banged his staff once more. “Hear the third charge! The accused has endangered the life of the queen in her very quarters and—”

“How so?” Talmor asked hotly.

“Through sorcery—”

“I have answered that charge.”

“Ye set a foul, filthy soultaker on her!” a voice cried out. “Ye dirty agent of Gant, ye were hired to do it!”

Talmor whirled around, reaching for the weapon at his belt that wasn't there. “A lie!” he shouted. Before anyone could stop him, he strode onto the dais and knelt at Pheresa's feet. Pale of face, his eyes narrowed and dangerous, he asked, “Is this fact? Was your majesty hurt?”

Before she could answer, the guards dragged him back. She saw him flinch in pain from their roughness.

“Stand there,” Sir Thum ordered him sternly, “and answer as you are questioned. Can you command Nonkind?”

“No!”

“Can you shapeshift?”

“No!”

“Can you, with the force of your mind, compel others to do your bidding?”

Talmor glared at him. “If I could, I'd be a free man at this moment.”

The sharp, hostile questions continued to fly at him. Glancing down, Pheresa noticed that her dagger was glowing even more brightly than before. With a frown, she pulled it partway from its sheath and its intense yellow radiance spilled
forth. Something, she realized, was wrong. Everyone was staring at Thum and Talmor, everyone except one individual . . . who was staring at her.

The priest, his face knotted in a grimace of hatred. As her astonished gaze met his, he snarled a silent curse and rushed at her, pulling something from inside his sleeve as he did so.

Something black and slender came hurtling through the air right at her. Unfurling a set of leathery black wings, its scaled hide glistening in the torchlight, it screeched a hideous cry of danger that shot Pheresa to her feet. A putrid stench filled the air, and suddenly everything was confusion as it flew right at her face. Screaming, Pheresa ducked. Its talons raked the air, barely missing her. Dropping to her knees, she drew the dagger but had no chance to use it. Screeching, the thing wheeled about beneath the ceiling beams, then dived at her again.

Shouting a prayer, Lord Renald flung himself between the monster and Pheresa. He swung his sword, but too late. Nonkind talons sliced across his shoulder, sending him reeling away.

Then Talmor was there, running to put himself in danger. He had no weapon, nothing with which to fight.

“Talmor!” she cried out, and tossed him the golden dagger.

He caught it by the hilt, and as the creature flew at her yet again, Talmor plunged the dagger into its belly. The beast screamed, and black blood splattered across Talmor's face as it buffeted him with its wings. Then it exploded in a noxious cloud of ash and smoke, and Talmor sank to his knees with a little groan.

Everyone rushed forward, but it was Pheresa who reached him first. “Talmor—”

He was winded and spent, but he managed to point at the priest, who was now trying to slip away. The guards pounced on him, and after a brief scuffle, dragged the man out.

Sir Bosquecel steadied himself on his crutch, looking grim indeed. “I think we now know where the soultaker came from. With your permission, majesty, I'll question this assassin.”

Pheresa nodded, and Sir Bosquecel limped out like a man set on vengeance. A yell from Lord Renald told her his wound
was already being salted. She looked at Talmor, who still knelt, breathing hard. His face was scratched, and a trace of blood was seeping through his tunic at the right shoulder.

“Your hurts must be tended without delay,” she said in concern, no longer caring who saw what she felt. “Dearest Talmor, once more you have come to my aid.”

He grimaced as he tried to pull himself upright. Someone helped him to his feet, and he swayed a moment before he sent her a glimmer of a smile. “The habit of protecting your majesty is difficult to break.”

“I think,” Sir Thum said, “that this entire matter has been settled. Sir Talmor has proven himself on all counts to be innocent and honorable. Let no more be said against him.”

A roar of acclamation went up, while Pheresa beckoned swiftly to the countess.

“There remains one final matter,” Pheresa announced as the countess placed a document in her hand. “The queen owes Sir Talmor her life many times over. He has proven himself to be a superior protector, able and loyal beyond all thought of his own safety. Even today, once more, he has proven it before you all.”

Clapping broke out, and she smiled at Talmor who was staring at her very seriously indeed. “In anticipation of today's accounting finding Sir Talmor innocent of all charges—and now, in gratitude for his actions just moments past—the queen hereby rewards this man by naming him Baron of Edriel, and granting to him those lands and their income, and such vassals and serfs as are bound to the estates, with full right of title for himself and his heirs to come.”

Talmor looked stunned.

Laughing with satisfaction, she handed him the document of deed and investiture with her signature written boldly above the royal seal.

He held the parchment as though it might break in his hand. All the color had left his face, and he seemed stunned. “Majesty,” he said at last. “I—I don't know what to say.”

“No words are necessary,” she told him.

“Edriel guards one of the richest trade routes along the
eastern border,” Sir Thum said, looking impressed. “You are amply rewarded indeed, my lord.”

Talmor stared at him as though dazed. “I always wanted something like this,” he said quietly, returning his gaze to Pheresa. “ 'Twas always my plan, but I—I don't know how your majesty knew—”

“The reward is only a fraction of what you deserve,” she said warmly, wishing they were alone now so that she could say all that she felt.

But he'd begun to frown. Almost angrily, he thrust the document back at her. “No, your majesty. I—I am overwhelmed by such generosity, but I cannot accept it.”

Her own annoyance rose. “Why not?”

“Come, sir!” Thum said in amazement. “Your modesty does you credit, but do not overplay it. Only a fool would refuse such a grant.”

“I have my reasons,” Talmor said tightly, “and they are sound ones.”

Pheresa saw the way he looked at the document, however. She knew his desire to accept the title was battling whatever troubled him. She knew also how stubborn he could be when he felt himself in the right.

She swept the others with a glance. “Withdraw from us, that we may speak privately.”

Looking curious, they obeyed, and she and Talmor walked over to stand by the hearth. She spread out her hands to the warmth a moment before turning her gaze on him.

“Tell me the truth of this,” she said, her voice low and furious. “Is our quarrel to stand forever? I would forget it. Why can't you?”

“There is no quarrel,” he said. “Your majesty mistakes the matter.”

“Then explain it at once! You concern me greatly, Talmor. I know not what to make of you.”

He sighed, and she feared he would remain close-mouthed, but then, with a grimace, he said, “I have another power that was not discussed today.”

Her eyes widened. “Go on.”

“I have premonitions. Not often, but they come true.”

“You mean you see the future?”

“Nothing as grand as that. But from time to time I know about a future event. Mostly it comes to me as a feeling, a sense of imminent danger perhaps, but sometimes I. . . dream.”

She began to have an ominous feeling of her own. “And you have dreamed?”

“Aye.”

“What about?”

He hesitated so long she thought he did not intend to answer, but at last he whispered, “Your death.”

A chill ran up her spine. She stared at him hard, so many questions racing through her mind she could not decide which to ask first.

“It will be my fault,” he said hoarsely, “and I—I cannot bear to think of it.”

As her bewilderment faded, she felt a rush of compassion for his obvious distress. “How could it be your fault?” she asked, touching his arm. “Even today, you protected me. I know I was cruel at our last meeting when I said terrible things, but 'twas only to keep you from despair. I'm sorry I was so harsh. Since then I have longed to take back every unkind word—”

“Majesty, stop,” he said, emotions swimming in his eyes. “I bear no grudge for what was said in my sick room. Were it not for you, I would be dead and my soul damned with me. You said what I needed to hear, and stopped me from pitying myself. Were the choice mine, I would never leave you.”

“Talmor!”

“But I know that I will bring you harm someday. How or when, I do not understand. Rather than see you lie dead at my feet, I must quit your service now.”