Crown of Three (14 page)

“Brutan was deceived,” the queen went on. “Kalia tricked him into believing these thrice-cursed brats had died at birth. Then, years later, a man was brought to him, a pathetic drunkard who went by the name of Sir Brax.

“Although Sir Brax's mind was ruined by drink, on one point he was very clear: the three children were still alive.”

More gasps. Gulph glanced at Pip. She held her slender body taut, not looking at him, just staring straight ahead at Queen Magritt and the new king.

“Kalia confessed the truth,” said the queen. “In the end. But where the triplets were, she would not tell. Even when she was tied to the stake and set aflame, her mouth remained sealed. Their whereabouts is a mystery.”

The gasps turned to cries. Gulph couldn't tell if people were outraged that Kalia had been burned to death or concerned that these three children still wandered the kingdom.

“Silence!” roared Nynus, standing from the throne. His face was red, like that of a child about to have a tantrum. “The next person who interrupts will find themselves in the Vault of Heaven. Do I make myself clear?”

Nobody made a sound.

“No doubt many of you are thinking about the prophecy,” said the queen. “King Nynus says to you now that the prophecy is proved false! According to the legend, Brutan's death would be caused by one of these wretched triplets. But as you have seen for yourselves, it is Nynus, my son, and the one true heir to the throne of Toronia, who brought him down. So here is the truth of it: Nynus is king, and as for this so-called prophecy”—she paused, scanning the hall with glittering eyes—“it has no more life in it than Brutan himself.”

Except you didn't have the guts to do it yourselves
, Gulph thought bitterly. The plan might have been set in motion by Queen Magritt, and Nynus might be the one to benefit from it, but Gulph's were the hands that had set the crown on the head of the king.

“But a thread remains untied,” said the queen. “Or, to be precise, three threads. As long as these three brats remain alive, they will attract all those opposed to the fair rule of Toronia. Rebels, ingrates, and criminals, all will flock to their call. Unless we wish the current conflicts to escalate into an all-consuming war, they must be eliminated.”

“There will be rewards,” said Nynus, spreading his hands generously. “Rich rewards. Anyone who brings me the head of one of these wretched triplets will receive great wealth and a permanent place in my court.” His eyes found Gulph's, and fixed on them. He gave him one of his beaming smiles. “Indeed, all those who serve the crown will find themselves in my favor.”

A knot tightened in Gulph's stomach. He wanted to turn and run, but instead, he forced an answering smile onto his face.

Nynus's voice rose to a shout. He took a step forward, scanning the banqueting hall with narrowed eyes. “You of the King's Legion—close the shutters. I would not have sunlight in this place!”

Captain Ossilius, who had taken up station beside the throne, frowned at this odd request. However, Gulph knew exactly what was going on inside Nynus's head. Ten years inside the Vault of Heaven. Ten years without sunlight. Without companionship. None of this was really Nynus's fault. Was it any wonder the boy's mind had turned as dark as the cell in which he'd been incarcerated?

Captain Ossilius's obvious puzzlement didn't stop him obeying the command of the new king of Toronia. Under his direction, two soldiers hurried to opposite sides of the hall and turned the large cranked handles that operated the roof shutters. Slowly the shutters descended, canvas unfurling over long wooden slats. Shadows slid over the crowd, plunging the banqueting hall into a dim twilight.

Gulph waited with the rest of the assembly, but both Nynus and his mother had spoken their fill. Guards opened the doors and began to usher the diners away; servants were dispatched to clear the tables. Slowly, silently, the banqueting hall began to empty.

He looked around for Pip, but she'd gone. He returned to the kitchen doors, where he'd first bumped into her, but neither she nor any of the Tangletree Players were anywhere in sight.

Disconsolate, Gulph turned a slow circle, scanning the hall for a familiar face. But despite the crowd, he was alone.

“This way,” whispered a voice.

Startled, Gulph spun around. One of the doors was just swinging closed. He pushed through it and into a long room filled with steam. The figure of a woman darted across his vision, beckoned, and disappeared down a corridor . . . but not before flicking her face in his direction.

Limmoni!

Gulph hurried after her. The corridor twisted and turned, delivering him finally into a small vaulted room. Wooden chests were stacked high against one wall, piles of linen against the other.

Limmoni stood in the middle of the room. As he entered, she took a step toward him, moving with an easy grace. Her servant's clothes flowed strangely against her body as she moved. “Have you heard of the wizard Melchior?”

Gulph frowned. He knew the name from the stories Sidebottom John used to tell around the fire, back in Isur. “Yes. But I thought all the wizards were—”

“I am Melchior's apprentice.” Limmoni's eyes were a deep violet, their softness a curious contrast to the sharp, angular lines of her face. Her gaze seemed to bore through him. “Or rather, I was, until he disappeared. Now the time has come for me to find him again. He must be told about Nynus.”

Gulph's head swam. “You're . . . a magician?” So that was how she'd faded from the minds of Magritt and Nynus—magic.

Limmoni nodded.

He sat heavily on one of the chests. Belatedly, he shrugged off the remnants of the ridiculous bakaliss costume. It pooled on the floor, the red fur spreading on the flagstones like blood.

“What's all this got to do with me?” he said. “Why did you give me this jewel? I mean, why bother? I'm just a nobody. You know what I'm really worth? The cost of a barrel of ale! Yes! That's how I came to be with the players. My father swapped me for a cask of Isur's finest brew—”

“He was not your father,” said Limmoni.

“I was lucky they didn't leave me in a ditch there and then. . . . What? What did you say?”

“The man who gave you away. He was not your father.”

“How do you . . . ? Who was he?”

“He was your protector. A duty he utterly failed to fulfill. His name was Sir Brax.”

Gulph blinked. “Queen Magritt talked about a knight called Sir Brax.”

“It was the same man.”

For an instant, the strange sensation of dryness washed over Gulph again. His pulse pounded against his temples. His skin felt cracked and old. Limmoni peered at him, her eyes narrowed in curiosity.

Gulph ran his hands down his face. His thoughts were a storm.

“Sir Brax was my protector. Are you saying . . . Limmoni, are you saying that he . . . that I was . . . am one of the children from the prophecy? One of the triplets?” He swallowed. “The son of King Brutan?”

Limmoni clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes, Gulph. It is true. That gem I gave you? It is but one of three, just as you are but one of three who will rule Toronia.”

“How did you get it?” Gulph's hand went to the green jewel. It felt suddenly heavier around his neck. No wonder.

It is filled with fate.

“Melchior gave it to Sir Brax to guard with you, but he sold it to a pawnbroker. But I followed his tracks and recovered it. I have been keeping it ever since.”

Gulph held out the green gem on its long, gold chain. It felt more than merely heavy. It felt toxic.
Poison
. “I don't want it! I don't want this jewel, or the crown. . . . I don't want any of it! I just want things the way they were.”

“Hiding away from the war? Being laughed at?” There was no malice in Limmoni's voice, just simple truth.

“You might not think it was much of a life, but it was better than this!''

“Gulph, I am sorry, but you have no choice. You cannot deny your destiny.”

“I don't care about destiny.”

“But destiny cares about you. What Magritt and Nynus made you do to Brutan was terrible, but it had to be done. He was meant to die by your hand.”

At this, Gulph stared at her, shaking, breathing hard.

“You will be safe here, for a time,” said Limmoni. “But you must continue to let Nynus believe you are his friend. Everything depends on that.”

“I could just run.”

“He would follow. He would have you killed.”

Gulph shook his head with vigor. “He wouldn't. He's my friend.”

“But his mother is not,” said Limmoni gently.

“So it's stay and live. Or leave and die. Is that what you're saying?”

“Yes.”

All the strength left Gulph's body. His arm dropped to his side. He felt completely spent.

“What happens next?” he said.

“The future is a mystery, Agulphus, even to me.”

“What did you call me?” Strange as it was, the name she'd used seemed to echo in his head, as if he'd heard it spoken long ago.

“Agulphus. It is your true name, the name of a king.”

A shiver ran down Gulph's back.

“Hear me now,” Limmoni went on. “Change is coming—coming like the winter wind. We cannot change the weather, Agulphus. But we can stand before the storm.”

Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Gulph turned to look. A shadow was moving toward him.

“Limmoni . . .” he began, looking back. But she'd already gone.

“Gulph?” The voice belonged to Nynus. “Gulph! I know you're there. I saw you scurry away. Are you trying to avoid me?”

With shaking hands, Gulph slipped the chain over his neck and tucked the jewel under his tunic.

“I'm in here, Nynus,” he called. Then he added, “I mean, Your Majesty.”

The footsteps grew louder.

My half brother!
Gulph's mind bent in an effort to accommodate the truth. The thought made him feel sick. If only Sir Brax hadn't been a drunkard, if only he hadn't been found by the Tangletree Players, if only they hadn't been captured and brought to Idilliam. . . .

If only.

The sickness receded, leaving just three thoughts drifting through Gulph's head. Three.

My name is Agulphus.

My future is bound by fate.

And:

I have killed the king, my father.

Nynus's white face appeared at the door.

“Ah, there you are, Gulph. Thought you could get away from me, eh?”

Somehow, from somewhere, Gulph found a smile.

“Me, King Nynus?” he said. “I'm not going anywhere.”

CT TWO

T
arlan stared down at the featureless white landscape rolling past below Theeta's wings. How long was it since he'd last seen a village? A day? Two? He didn't know. The freezing air had numbed his mind as well as his body. His injured arm ached, despite the black leaf he'd rubbed on it.