Dance of Destinies (The Galactic Mage Series Book 5) (6 page)

Pernie was nearly delirious at seeing them. She’d never seen such a great stack of steps before. “Look at it,” she gasped. “It’s as high as a mountain!”

“And it might as well be one,” Djoveeve grumbled. “And I’ll have to climb them in these old bones.” She didn’t look pleased about that.

“Your jaguar form will make it easier,” Pernie told her matter-of-factly. “Or the crane fly.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Djoveeve said. “And you will not do any magic while we are here either, do you hear? Not one jot, or you’ll have all the guards on us in an instant. I don’t want to spend my last few decades rotting in a jail cell.”

“I would come get you out,” Pernie said. “I’m not afraid.”

“All the same, young miss,” said the herald, “you’ll do right to remember what the Sava’an’Lansom has said. There is no magic cast here without permission from Her Majesty, the Lord Chamberlain, or, in special circumstances, the Captain of the Guard.”

Pernie was more interested in how well the man spoke the elven words when he pronounced Djoveeve’s formal title as the current assassin of the vale. It came right off his tongue, easily. She’d been working very hard for over a year to learn the elven language and make it sound pretty the way the elves did. He did it as easily as if he’d said it a thousand times before.

They climbed the stairs on foot, which didn’t bother Pernie at all, angling slowly upward toward the enormity of the massive central spire, which loomed above as if it were trying to spike the sun before the Huntress with her spear could. The rest of the Palace was a golden panoply of towers and turrets and sprawling battlements. It was too bright to look at for very long, so Pernie mainly watched where she was going, and watched Djoveeve.

“They use floating discs for the flat spaces, and yet we walk up the steps,” Djoveeve complained when they were nearly three-quarters of the way to the top. “It’s hard to imagine how our people achieved anything, isn’t it, little Sava?”

Pernie had never seen the woman tired before. But then, Pernie had also never seen the woman travel much without using one of her animal forms. It was the first time Pernie really saw her as being old, old in a withering way, not just old in a gray and wrinkled way.

At last they reached the palatial doors, cast in bronze and inlaid with gold that sparkled in the sun, and Djoveeve took a moment before them to catch her breath. She caught Pernie looking at her, and glared in mock anger. “Come back here when you are three hundred and three years old, then see how well you do.” She winked, and Pernie smiled. She had a lot to be happy about. She was about to stand before the mighty War Queen as someone important now.

Chapter 6

P
ernie grew very impatient waiting outside of the throne room, even though the wait hadn’t been three minutes yet. She could see all the people inside, and it was quite crowded today. A great milling about of regally clad courtiers and applicants hummed and buzzed in dialects from all over Kurr. Pernie had seen pictures in books and in the illusions cast by storytellers and traveling bards, depicting many of the styles of clothing people wore when they came to see the Queen, and many of those were evident for real within. Some of the faces she recognized as well, as if characters from those books and stories had suddenly turned real. There were even a few she already knew, great figures of wealth and power whom she’d seen visiting with Master Tytamon and Master Altin back at Calico Castle.

The noise that came from inside that room was such a constant din that she could only grasp bits and pieces of conversations. She tried, but she couldn’t follow any of them. She leaned and twisted trying to see the Queen, but she wasn’t tall enough. It didn’t help that Seawind and Djoveeve had pushed her behind them as if she were a child. Which, she supposed, technically she was, but she didn’t appreciate being treated like one. She was the Sava’an’Lansom, after all. Or at least, she almost was. Then they wouldn’t treat her like that anymore. No one would.

There came two loud cracks of the herald’s staff upon the floor, each sounding like a strike on a colossal drum. The herald’s voice boomed out over the crowd after. It was a spectacular sound, thunderous and loud. “Seawind of the White Meadow, Speaker of the High Seat and emissary of String.” He paused a moment, then went on. “And Djoveeve Ledgerwotch, Sava’an’Lansom, Protector of the High Seat.”

Pernie wrinkled her nose at that. She hadn’t known Djoveeve had a last name before. She didn’t think the Sava’an’Lansom needed one. Pernie had a last name, but it wasn’t real. Her last name was Grayborn, but they called all the orphans that if they didn’t know who their parents were. Pernie was not going to tell anyone her last name when she was Sava’an’Lansom. One day, her last name would be Meade. Then she would tell everyone.

She waited for the herald to call her name, even if it was going to be Pernie Grayborn for now, but he didn’t. He simply finished off after Djoveeve’s title with “and ward.” Seawind and Djoveeve were moving through the doors, the old woman turning back to make sure Pernie was coming along.

“But he didn’t announce me,” Pernie protested. “Her Majesty won’t know who I am.”

Djoveeve smiled over her shoulder at her. “Oh, she’ll know, little Sava. I promise.”

Pernie followed, but she wasn’t too happy about being relegated to “and ward.” She glared at the herald as she walked by, but he did not look down at her. Pernie didn’t think his gold-trimmed livery was as nice as it used to be. She knew she could take that big staff from him and beat him with it too. Plus he had an ugly nose.

The crowd froze as they passed along, gasps and murmurs preceding them but falling to silence as they drew near. Pernie looked from side to side and saw them all gaping at Seawind. Nobody even looked at her. Nobody looked at Djoveeve either, or at least not much. Important people don’t see old women and children. That rankled too.

Someday they would see her.

Pernie peered between Seawind and Djoveeve, looking through the space between their hips. She could see the Queen now.

The War Queen sat in her throne upon a dais, several steps separating her from the people all around. She was bright and majestic, just as Pernie had known she would be: all dressed in shiny plate armor of solid gold to match the regal chair, her armor and her seat sparkling, picking up the light from stained glass windows high above. Best of all was the giant broadsword slung across the back of the throne. It truly was enormous, and Pernie thought it might be twice as long as she was tall. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at it that day the orcs attacked them outside Calico Castle. But now she could see it just fine. She really wanted one.

At length they came to stand right before the monarch, and Seawind and the Queen exchanged formal greetings, which included a lot of calling each other
friend
. “Hello, friend Seawind” and “Hello, friend Karroll” and then
friend
this and
friend
that. Pernie tilted and tipped, trying to get a better look. But it seemed that the Queen and Seawind were going to talk forever about boring things.

She sidled to Djoveeve’s left and looked around. She saw, to her surprise, that Master Tytamon was standing there. She was still mad at him for grabbing her by the neck and casting a counter magic spell on her just because she tried to kill Orli Pewter again. She understood why he did it, but she was not going to talk to him today so that he would know that she was mad. More surprising, and more fun, was the discovery that standing next to Tytamon was her friend Roberto from planet Earth. He was nice and funny. He was wearing a thick, stuffy sort of suit with lots of lights and lumps like the one Master Altin had been wearing that day he came back from the big red Hostile world all covered in blood. It had almost killed him, the planet, not the suit, but Pernie saved his life. If it had killed Orli Pewter, that would have been all right.

Finally they got around to paying attention to Pernie. Seawind and Djoveeve parted just enough to allow her to squeeze through. The old woman reached back and guided her forward unnecessarily. When Seawind said, “The future Sava’an’Lansom, your own Pernie Grayborn,” even Tytamon looked surprised.

Pernie, of course, ignored him, and instead smiled at the Queen. “Hello, Your Majesty. You are very golden, and your sword is the best one ev—”

Djoveeve hushed her, hissing, “Curtsy, child. And be silent. You are before the Queen.”

Pernie glowered at her, but she did remember that she had forgotten to curtsy. Kettle had taught her how to curtsy on many occasions—“Just in case,” she’d say—so Pernie executed one perfectly.

The Queen smiled and looked down at her as if she were someone’s mildly amusing new kitten. Pernie saw it right away. It was the same look most grown-ups gave children they had only passing interest in. The War Queen looked back to Seawind and nodded, then to Tytamon. “Well, she is as impertinent as all the rest raised at Calico Castle, Master Tytamon. Why am I not the least surprised?”

“I do what I can, Your Majesty,” said the ancient wizard. “But the old castle does seem to draw the most independent sorts.”

“Indeed,” the Queen agreed.

Pernie didn’t like when people talked about her as if she weren’t in the room. She frowned at Tytamon, but Roberto was bent forward and looking at her with a warm expression on his face. He saw her. He winked at her, and he had the look of mischief on his face, though it passed very quickly. Pernie thought he looked kind of scared. She wondered what could make a man like that look that way. She wondered if that was why he was wearing the bulky Earth suit he had on. It seemed like only bad things happened to people when they were wearing one of those.

“So what is it that you require of me this time, friend Seawind?” asked the Queen. “I’ve given you my subject to be trained as bodyguard to your High Seat. Has Miss Grayborn proven inadequate? I can give you any other subject as you and the treaty require. Simply say the word, and they will serve.”

“She is quite adequate, friend Karroll,” Seawind said. Pernie thought she saw the War Queen flinch at that, as if she’d been bitten by an ant somewhere deep in her armored pants. But it passed quickly. “The time of Tidalwrath is near. The prophecy requires that we send this child to the new world for a time.”

The Queen looked startled by that. It was only a flash of it, but Pernie saw it. She’d felt exactly the way Her Majesty had just looked many times, especially whenever Kettle caught her sneaking cakes, or when Nipper caught her trying to get one of the big crossbows out of the Calico Castle armory again. There’d been so many times where Pernie had worn such an expression over the brief course of her ten and a half years that recognizing it on someone else’s face was like looking in a mirror.

It was gone as quickly as it appeared, however, and the royal countenance was once again as placid as the surface of a mountain pond. “And
which
new world would that be, friend Seawind?”

“Earth,” he announced.

The placid pond became more so.

“Why, of course,” she said, her tone light and, to Pernie’s ear, relieved. “And your timing is excellent. We were just this morning talking about that very thing.” She pointed with her golden scepter into the crowd. “You, there, what’s your name again? Come hither.”

A man in his middle years came forward. He was tall, well dressed. His hair was black with wisps of white at the temples, brushed back over his head and shiny just like his boots. Pernie thought he was very handsome, although not as handsome as Master Altin.

The man bowed and answered as asked. “Ivan Gangue, Your Majesty. Third seat on the Transportation Guild Service council.”

“Yes, that’s right. Ivan Gangue.” She looked back to Seawind. “Councilman Gangue here came this morning with a petition for a thousand … what do you call them again?” She looked impatient as she waited for Gangue to answer her.

“
Visas
, Your Majesty. The Northern Trade Alliance refers to them as visas.”

“Yes, of course, visas. The TGS feels that the NTA has been too stingy for too long, and my people have finally got that skittish planet full of blanks to get over their fear of magicians long enough to allow a few Prosperions access to their world. Frankly, it’s about time, as the whole thing is entirely insulting. So, friend Seawind, as I said: your timing could not be better.” She paused and looked to Pernie for a moment, then back at the elf. “Might I inquire as to why she must go?”

“Yes, friend Karroll, you may inquire.” Seawind put on a smile, but everyone in attendance could tell he did so as a formality.

Her Majesty regarded him for a time, expectant, and when nothing followed, she prompted first with a raising of her eyebrows, then a few moments after with a circular on-with-it-then movement of her scepter. Neither of those worked, however, so she had to say it aloud. “And the reason would be …?”

“Because it suits the prophecy.”

“Oh, dear Mercy, friend Seawind, of course it does. It always suits the prophecy. If not this one, then some other. But what I’m after is the reason for
why
it suits the prophecy.” She propped up a smile much as he had done.

“I cannot say, friend Karroll.”

“
Cannot
as in you are unable for reasons of ignorance, or
cannot
as in you are compelled by some power to keep secrets from me?”