A Crown Imperiled (42 page)

This ship had been refitted in a hurry, but even so the result was nothing short of miraculous. Every trim was golden or ivory, brilliant in the sun. The shutters on the sterncastle looked to be fashioned of ebony, an impossibly dense wood never used on ships because it had a tendency to sink. Nothing on this ship was base or mean. From his vantage point aloft, it looked as if the decks had been refurbished with teak. He laughed. Knowing the Keshians, this would be the only occasion on which the Emperor of Kesh would undertake an ocean journey, but the ship would never been used again, just in case the Emperor might decide to go fishing one day. All royals were prone to the gaudy and wasteful, Jim knew, but no one did it on as grand a scale as the Keshians. Even the banner, bearing the royal hawks of Kesh, looked to have been sewn with pure gold thread.

The King’s ship eased into its berth as Jim furled the sails. When he had finished tying off, he kept out of the view of the bosun’s mate and watched as the main hatch was unlatched and moved, and cargo nets were swung into place, while the royal party departed from the rear gangway. The gangway was a lovely device, thought Jim, a canopied covered little landing with stairs and rails that ran right down to the docks. Jim took his time moving to the tip of the yardarm, then dropped a rope and swung down to the docks, everyone on the decks being too focused on the royals departing or on cargo duty to notice him. He wouldn’t be missed until that night when he didn’t show up to receive his pay.

Moving along the docks he saw a party of nobles waiting to greet King Gregory and his retinue. Jim did a double-take for it appeared that Sir William Alcorn was waiting to meet the King, but upon close inspection it was a different man. The hairstyle was Roldemish, parted in the middle and left to fall on both sides to just below the ears, while Sir William’s hair flowed to his shoulders. But the resemblance was uncanny.

‘You!’ shouted a voice and Jim saw a Roldemish noble pointing at him. ‘Come here and carry this!’

Jim knew better than to run so he lowered his gaze and ambled over. He saw bags sitting behind a roped-off area and wondered for a moment why he was being asked to fetch luggage that would be brought along to the palace in quick order. He looked at the noble who had ordered him over and recognized Lord Servan, nephew to the King.

‘My lord?’ asked Jim in neutral tone. He knew that this man was Franciezka’s most highly placed agent within the palace, and wasn’t sure if she knew that he knew. So he decided to play the role of common seaman until he knew what was going on.

‘Take these at once to the Queen’s apartment.’ He took off his gloves and pulled out a piece of parchment and a travelling writing case. ‘Your back, sailor.’

Jim turned and bent over so that Servan could rest the parchment on his back. He heard the noble spit into the dry ink, then felt as he scribbled something. As he wrote, Servan said, ‘My lady bade me find you as soon as this ship landed, Lord Jim. She warns you to be cautious in coming to the palace. Lord John Worthington’s men are everywhere.’

‘Is that Lord John in the deep blue coat?’

‘Yes,’ said Servan, affixing his seal to the note. ‘This orders you personally to deliver these two bags to the Queen’s major domo personally. He’s been instructed to take you to my lady.’

‘Whose bags are these?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Servan with a smile. ‘Baggage gets lost all the time in the palace. It’ll find its owner sooner or later.’

Picking up the bags, Jim said, ‘If you can slip word to Duke Hal that I’m in the palace, that would be appreciated.’

‘Duke Hal? His father’s dead?’

‘Unfortunately, and King Gregory has named him “beloved cousin,” publicly, twice.’

Servan winced. ‘I’ll get word to him. You’ll find him?’

‘I’ll find him.’

Jim picked up the bags and hurried after the first carriage that was rolling out of the docks. The pace of the carriage was slow as crowds were pressing to cheer the foreign king and his party. There was a holiday feeling to the scene that lay at odds with what was really underway, which Jim feared was black murder and treason.

Keeping to the side of the carriage away from most of the guards lining the road, the nondescript sailor hauling two bags up the hill garnered scant notice.

Jim barely put the bags down before he was being hustled off by a servant barking orders that he follow her. He did as he was ordered, and was taken around the periphery of the royal apartment to a set of rooms occupied by Lady Franciezka Sorboz.

Franciezka waved away the servant and inspected Jim head to foot. ‘I think I’ve seen you less kempt, but I can’t recall when.’ Her face was set in a controlled, faint smile, but her eyes shone with moisture.

Jim began to speak, then suddenly was without words. He took two strides across the room and took her in his arms. After a deep and prolonged kiss, he whispered, ‘I thought I might never see you again.’

‘And I you,’ she whispered back. She forced herself back to control and said, ‘And you reek. You need a bath.’

‘I need a bath, a shave, and a change of clothing.’

‘I have a bath drawn in the next room.’

‘Are you joining me?’

She spun out of his reach. ‘As much as I might like to, Jim, we do not have time if you’re going to sneak about and talk to all those people who you need to sneak about and talk to.’

Jim frowned and turned his mind to the business at hand. ‘Clothing?’

‘I have a complete set.’

‘Really?’

‘I thought you might need court clothing, and besides,’ she added with a slight smile, ‘I know your size intimately.’

In the side room he found a tub with warm water waiting. He quickly stripped off his clothing and stepped in. A moment later Franciezka entered with a shaving mug, brush, and razor. He lathered up his hair with a delicate scented shampoo she kept for her own use. The scent of it reminded him he was aching to touch her again.

She poured a bucket of warm water over his head and said, ‘Lie back and I’ll shave you.’

While she did so she went on, ‘I discovered something deeply troubling after you left, Jim.’

‘Only one thing?’ he said brightly.

‘Never make me laugh or get angry when I have a razor next to your throat.’

‘Fair point. Sorry I interrupted.’

‘After you left I retired to my villa and helped the Princess to escape.’

He laughed and said, ‘Now she’s back, so one wonders what good all that did.’ Feeling the sudden pressure of her razor against his throat he said, ‘Sorry,’ and fell silent again.

‘She was away from Lord John, which was the point.’ She deftly scraped his cheek. ‘Word reached me of something odd taking place, and the servants being barred from the Lord John’s quarters.’

‘So you snuck back— Ow!’

She had nicked his neck.

‘Stop interrupting! So I snuck back into the palace and watched through a window. I saw the damnedest meeting imaginable. Lord John hosted two other men: Sir William Alcorn and a Keshian prince—’

He grabbed her wrist so that she couldn’t nick him again. ‘Harfum?’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘How did you know?’

‘A pattern. What did you learn?’

She continued to shave him. ‘First, all three of them appear to be the same man, or else some mother somewhere had triplet sons born in three nations to three noble families at the same time.’ She finished and handed him a towel. He sat motionless for a long moment, stunned by the news. ‘The same . . .’ He let the thought trail off. ‘The third player.’

‘Whoever was behind the war between the Isles and Kesh, certainly,’ she added. ‘We know the war made no sense, particularly given how it ended, and how this benefits the third player . . .’ Again a thought was left unfinished.

He wiped the residue soap off his face. ‘How long before I insinuate myself into the royal hullabaloo?’

‘All the nobles are resting while their luggage is being unpacked. I expect you’ll want to sneak about a bit and speak to someone or another.’

‘Hal is now Duke of Crydee. His father perished before the siege of Ylith. I want to speak to him and Ty Hawkins.’

‘You have some time. Why?’

He reached over and grabbed her, hauling her into the tub with him. She shrieked for a moment, then her cries turned to laughter.

‘Too long I have thought about this reunion, Franciezka, and too long have I thought about what I would say. I’ll sneak about later.’

She kissed him. ‘Shut up or I’ll find that razor.’

He returned the kiss and began unfastening wet laces.

Miranda looked at the matrix and probed it, pulling back instantly. ‘There is a demonic element there; subtle, which is why you missed it, but there all the same.’

Pug and Magnus were both silent for a moment, then Pug said, ‘Is it a trap?’

‘It is hard to judge. As I’m sure you’ve both come to appreciate, it’s a complex energy net.’ Miranda overlapped her outstretched fingers, as if forming a grid. ‘Interwoven spells, and something else, other energy states . . .’ She closed her eyes for a moment, then they popped wide open. ‘We need Nakor.’

And she was gone. While the three of them had been examining the matrix, Nakor had been in another part of the building exploring the Pantathian archives with a guide.

Magnus said, ‘I don’t know what unnerves me more, that she is so exactly like mother or how easily I forget she’s not mother.’

‘I also have to force my mind to that—’

Suddenly she was back with Nakor standing next to her. With a grin he said, ‘Pug! Magnus! There are some wonderful volumes and scrolls here. A lot of history . . .’ He stopped speaking as he saw the energy field behind his three companions and pushed past them. He looked at the large oval of light. ‘This is the matrix?’ He leaned over until his nose was less than an inch away. ‘This is wonderful.’ He sat back, his hands just inches away from the surface, but not touching it. ‘Demon, yes,’ he said. ‘But something else, something . . .’ He nearly jumped back. ‘I recognize it.’

‘What is it?’ asked Pug, struggling to cope with the appearance of his dead friend as he had his dead wife.

‘I felt this in the pit on Omadrabar. There is a touch of the Dread here.’ He glanced at Magnus.

‘We think it might be Valheru.’

Nakor nodded. ‘Yes, I sense it. Elf, Valheru may be what I’ve missed, Dread, demon . . . But nothing human. This was created a very long time ago, by people who were not human. No hint of dwarf or goblin either! This is from before the Chaos Wars!’

‘Tomas said the Sven-ga’ri in the Peaks of the Quor were already there before humans came to Midkemia.’

Grinning, Nakor rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s a lock, I think, and picking it will take some time.’ He closed his eyes, hummed a nameless tune, then said, ‘Ah! Dragon! There’s dragon essence here, as well.’ He laughed aloud. ‘All the ancient races! This is quite a lock!’ He looked around. ‘Don’t be shy. Come, see what’s inside!’ He closed his eyes as if meditating, and the other three sat and joined him in studying the matrix with all the magical skill they possessed.

Later Jim and Franciezka lay in bed, entwined in one another’s embrace, her head on his chest. ‘You’re a very bad man, Jim Jamison,’ she said softly.

‘Please tell me I have a few good qualities you’re fond of?’

‘That’s just my point.’ She pushed herself up on one elbow. ‘I am too fond of you. Fool, I’ve tried to kill you twice.’

He grinned. ‘I like to think that’s because you didn’t know me well at the time.’

‘Perhaps it was because I got to know you better?’

He kissed her. ‘Seriously, what are we to do?’

She laid her head back on his shoulder and said, ‘About us, or about everything else?’

‘I fear “us” depends on everything else.’

She sighed. ‘Well, then, to business. I have a few agents I can trust inside the palace. Fewer in the city. None beyond our shores.’

‘I am in similar circumstances,’ he said.

‘So let us compare what we know.’

They spent half an hour exchanging information and when they had, Jim said, ‘I think our instincts served us well! There is an unknown player in all this and I believe Kesh is as much a victim of this player as is Isles.’

‘Explaining that to your King when he contemplates the losses you’ve taken in the west may prove difficult.’

‘Gregory is not a bellicose man. He will consider peace if offered at reasonable terms.’

‘What are reasonable terms?’ she asked.

‘Let’s worry about that after we can convince someone in the imperial household that Kesh needs to be reasonable, and not try to dictate out of a presumption of victory. The armistice is unsteady, to my eye.’

‘None of this makes sense,’ Franciezka observed.

‘It does if the reason behind it is not what you would think.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You and I have had enough experience with distraction to know it’s value. What if this war is simply a distraction?’

Her eyes grew wide. ‘Then it’s a distraction of heroic proportion. What could anyone gain from throwing three nations into turmoil?’

‘That is the question, isn’t it? I’m of the opinion that there are three people who might be the only ones able to answer.’

‘Lord John Worthington, Sir William Alcorn, and Prince Harfum,’ said Franciezka.

Playfully smacking her on the backside, he said, ‘Time to get dressed. I’m as curious as anyone what is coming next. And I need some time to talk to our newest duke, find out what he’s learned from the Princess you sent him to protect, and then insinuate myself into the King of the Isles’ company as if I was there the entire time.’

She pushed hard on his chest, forcing him back down on the pillow. ‘We have a little more time, and I’m damned if I’m letting you out of here to get yourself killed before I’ve had my way with you!’

He laughed and cried, ‘Mercy!’

‘Never!’ Running her hand down his chest to his stomach she said, ‘And somewhere in all this there is that one topic we need to return to . . .’

His eyes widened for a moment and he seemed to lose his breath. ‘And that would be . . .’

‘The subject you and I have been avoiding for more than three years, Jim. Us.’