Children of Enchantment (24 page)

“So when will you marry this short-skirted witch-spawn?”

“I must marry someday.”

“And her?”

“I must do what I believe to be best for the realm.”

“And is she best?”

“I don’t know.” Me looked her full in the eyes. “You’re very important to me, and nothing will change that. If we should have
a son, it’s possible I could name him my heir, but—“

“But we have no son—only Melisande, and if you marry this—” She stopped. “I will try not to interfere in this.”

He was torn and confused. He loved Peregrine as friend and companion, and he had no wish to lose her, or to cause her pain.
He wanted to assure her that nothing would change, but the memory of last night’s lovemaking stopped the words in his throat,
and he felt drawn to the stranger like a salmon to the river that spawned it.

So he kissed her because he did not know what else to do, and he carried her back to bed. He tried to remember how his father
had handled the numerous women who had borne him children, and he realized with a glum sense of dread that he did not know.
So he went through what he hoped were appropriate motions, and all the while, he was haunted by the specter of Peregrine’s
grief.

H
e could not sleep again after that. He rose as the light changed from gray to gold and tucked the covers carefully around
Peregrine’s sleeping body. He dressed in the clothes he had worn yesterday. Except for smudges and creases, nothing suggested
his ordeal. He picked up his boots and carried them to the outer room and sat in the chair to pull them on.

The hair prickled at the back of his neck as he looked at first one, and then the other. They were his oldest boots, scuffed
at the heels, the stitching pulled loose and the leather almost worn through at the toes. He ran his fingers slowly over the
surface. The boots were whole, as they had been when new. The stitching was perfectly in place, the leather across the toes
as thick as when it was first cut. It was not even as if some master had mended them, for while human hands could have replaced
the stitching, they could never have fabricated leather where it had been worn away.

He put them on reluctantly.

He stopped by the kitchens and took a mug of hot cider and half a loaf of bread and went to the barracks where he knew he’d
find Brand. The men-at-arms were washing at the stone tub outside the low wooden building, and they straightened to attention
as he approached.

“Lord Prince,” they said in a ragged chorus.

Roderic nodded. “Good morning. Where’s Captain Brand?” he asked the nearest.

“Inside, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Brand was shaving, standing bare-chested in his spotless cubicle when Roderic entered. He stopped, and force of long discipline
brought him to attention as Roderic entered. “Lord Prince.”

“I came to talk about yesterday.”

Brand picked up his razor and turned to the mirror. “What about it?”

“Have you spoken with Barran?”

“What did you think you were doing, Roderic? He’s a good soldier, and the One knows I’d trust him with my life, but he’s only
one man. If you’d encountered any real danger out in those woods, what did you think he could’ve done about it? What if you’d
met Amanander?”

“What did he tell you?”

Brand twisted his face to the mirror and did not reply. Finally, he wiped his chin with a linen towel. “He told me a story
I’d say was the ravings of a madman, if I hadn’t heard it come from my own son’s mouth. Nonsense about the witch and the tower
and a lost princess. What do you have to say about it?”

“It’s true.”

Brand swore beneath his breath and turned to face Roderic. “You listen to me. I’m only the Captain of the King’s Guard, and
you’re the Regent of Meriga. But I’m sworn to protect you with my life, and before you make that any more difficult, you listen
to me. Forget Vere and his Muten nonsense—“

“What about Amanander and his men? You saw them—are you going to tell me that was nonsense, too? And Jesselyn— our sister—is
dead because of him. If he can kill his own sister, he can kill all of us.” Roderic put the mug down and waited.

With a shake of his head, Brand picked up his shirt. “But, Roderic, think. If the Mutens had the Magic, why haven’t they used
it against us? Does what Vere said make sense? You don’t know Vere the way I do. He was always the odd one, poking around
under the castle, wandering in the tunnels, looking at books. When he finally ran away, to tell you the truth, he wasn’t even
missed. All right, Amanander’s guard did frighten me. But there are only four of them, Roderic, four, against our thousands.
And the Congress—yes, there are some malcontents, there always have been. Yes, Missiluse is a problem, as well as Senifay
and a few others. But don’t you see? You can’t go chasing after shadows. Vere’s stories are better used to frighten naughty
children.”

“Two weeks ago, Amanander was at the witch’s tower.”

Brand paused in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head, and his face suddenly lost its exasperated scowl. “He was?”

“With his four companions. They didn’t get in—apparently no one gets in unless the Witch wishes it. But Vere was right. They
did come for the girl. Nydia said they went west. I think they must have gone west to Alexander.”

Deliberately Brand smoothed his shirt and tied the laces. When he raised his face to Roderic, his mouth was set and grim.
“Care to join me at practice?”

Roderic nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Why not?”

In silence, they walked to the practice fields. The sun had risen above the trees, but the morning air was chill. In the shadows
beneath the trees, patches of white frost lay on the ground. Despite the splashes of spring color, the temperature had dropped
below freezing in the night.

They chose swords from the weaponsmaster, and Roderic tested the balance of his as they faced each other across a marked-off
square. That was another lesson he was unlikely to forget. His father had insisted that, unlike many lords, who would only
use their own weapons, made and balanced for them alone, Roderic learn to use any sword with ease.

Around them, many men faced off, and their swords rang together with hollow clangs in the crisp air. They saluted briefly,
and the blades met in a loose arc.

“So you think he went to Alexander?”

Roderic shrugged and attacked. “Where else?”

“Mmm.” Brand grunted an assent, blocked the blow, and riposted right.

Roderic dodged, and circled, point raised.

Brand swung the sword at Roderic’s midsection and he backed away. He feinted to Roderic’s right and attacked again to his
left. “And now?”

Roderic brought his own blade up and under and caught the hilt of Brand’s sword in his. Brand shoved him back, and retreated
as Roderic attacked with a series of blows to his unprotected legs. He tripped, rolled to the side and came up crouched in
a fighting stance. “I’ll send messengers to the Lords of Mondana, the commanders of the garrisons and the toll plazas. Perhaps
we’ll be able to apprehend Amanander before he ever reaches Alexander. Two weeks is not so very long.”

Abruptly Brand lowered his sword and leaned upon the hilt. Roderic lowered his own blade and looked around. All the others
were engaged; no one was paying them the least attention. “Look, Roderic, forgive me for speaking to you as I did. It’s just,
well, sometimes I think of you as a son, rather than a brother. And my Prince. It’s not for me to tell you what to do, or
how to govern.”

Roderic nodded slowly. He needed Brand, needed the advice and counsel of this eldest brother who had served their father for
so long and so well. He had been foolish to venture out without a bigger escort, and he had thoughtlessly risked Barran’s
life as well as his own.

“What will you do about the girl?” asked Brand.

Roderic hesitated. He knew that Brand’s words carried a certain amount of truth, that Brand was level-headed and utterly loyal,
that Brand would sooner cut his own throat than lead him astray. He wanted to ask Brand about Nydia, what he remembered about
her, how long she had been at Ahga and at Minnis. But perhaps it was better to discuss such things with Phineas. It had not
appeared last night that Phineas would simply dismiss such questions out of hand, as it seemed Brand would. “I don’t know,”
he answered honestly. “I accept your apology.” He handed Brand the sword. “Thanks for the practice.”

Roderic walked back to the hall deep in thought, feeling more alone than he ever had, knowing Brand stood watching him with
a troubled expression. “Has Lord Phineas awakened yet?” he asked one of the serving maids.

“I shall see, Lord Prince.”

He sat down on a wooden bench by one of the hearths and leaned his chin on one hand. What should he say to Phineas? he wondered.
Is this girl your daughter? How did one confront any man about a child he might not even know he had? Was it possible to think
that Phineas would have lain with anything so hideous?

“Lord Prince?”

The voice made him jump. Before him stood a kingdom messenger. His cloak was spotted with flecks of mud, and a faint sheen
of sweat shone on his forehead. “What news?”

“Message from Ahga, Lord Prince.” The messenger gave a brief bow and offered a wooden tube. The seal had been done in haste,
for the wax was smeared across its surface.

Roderic picked at the seal and pried the scroll from its cover. He read the contents in disbelief. “An earthshake in Ahga?”
It was from the commander of the garrison of Ahga, the division which protected the walls of the City. He could hardly understand
the scrawl. “What does this say—the west wall of the city collapsed?”

The messenger nodded. “In three places.”

“Three places? Is any of it left standing?”

“Most of it was demolished, Lord Prince.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“There wasn’t time to make an accurate assessment before I left, but I would estimate several hundreds.”

Roderic waved a dismissal. “Thank you, messenger. Get some rest.”

The man made another bow. “As you say, Lord Prince.”

He rolled the parchment and placed it back inside the tube. Ahga had not been invaded in over twenty years, and the people
were bound to be nervous. If the Harleyriders should hear that the walls had been breached, they might even try a raid. He
rubbed a hand across his forehead. There had not been an earthshake in Ahga since the Armageddon. Was this an omen of what
was to come?

“Lord Prince,” the maid servant bobbed a curtsey. “Lord Phineas can see you now.”

Roderic forgot the situation at Ahga as he read his father’s letter to Phineas. “There.” He threw the paper like a challenge
down on the table. “Could you please explain this? Why does my father want me to marry the daugh’- , of a witch? What is the
fate of all Meriga, and why does t’is affect everything he ever lived his life for?”

Phineas drew a long breath. “Yoi father had some dealings with the woman—I know that.

“Dealings? That’s not what I hear. I hear she was pledge-bound to him—that she was something called a prescient, and that
he relied on her to work the Old Magic for him. And I hear that the daughter I brought here last night is yours.”

Phineas did not reply, and Roderic pressed on. “And what were you to my father that he should banish the woman and keep the
man who betrayed him by his side?”

“I was the Captain of the King’s Guard.”

“You?”

Phineas straightened his bent frame painfully, proudly. “I was not always as you see me now, Roderic. Once I too was young
and tall and strong. And the King loved me like a brother.”

“What happened?”

“What may happen to anyone who lives by the sword. I was terribly injured in a battle. But the King brought me back to Ahga,
and when I recovered, valued my counsel so much he gave me the honor I have now.”

Roderic stared at Phineas, trying to understand why he had the sense that there was far more to the story than Phineas admitted.
“Why did you weep last night when I told you the girl had come?”

“Nydia warned the King of impending evil, before you were born, which could be overcome if you married her daughter when you
came of age.”

“What evil? Magic?”

“There was only one kind of evil which your father understood. The dissolution of the kingdom was the worst thing that could
happen, and something he would seek to prevent— at all costs.”

At all costs. Those words echoed in Roderic’s head like a mourning bell. And marriage with a witch’s daughter was the price
he was expected to pay. “This makes no sense to me, Phineas.”

“I am certain Nydia must have shown the King the future, even as she showed you. I do not know what he saw, but it could not
have been very different. He never spoke of it, except to say that if for some reason he was dead when she came to you, I
should do all I could to urge you to marry her.”

“Did you ever see this witch?”

“Yes.”

“What did she look like?”

Phineas turned his head away, though not before Roderic saw his mouth work. The silence grew louder. “She was very beautiful.”
His voice was a hoarse whisper.