QueensQuest (11 page)

Maia served us foods natural to the terrain—eels fished from
the lake, fern sallets and venison stew. After the meal, Storne tugged at my
hand and said, “Audryn, I wish to ask of you a boon. Of you also, Prince
Kaldir.”

We followed Storne to the opposite wall, where a grouping of
three small portraits decorated a slab of wood paneling between two windows.
One of them bore a startling resemblance to Kaldir, bearing the same,
distinctive blade-sharp cheekbones and strong, almost bony jawline. “Who is
this?” Storne asked.

Maia had followed us. She said, “That is the thrice
great-grandfather of the deceased King, Audryn’s father Mangor, often called
the Great.”

Storne darted her a keen glance. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Quite.”

He scrutinized me. “I see no resemblance.”

“My sister was dark of hair, as was my father.” I gazed at
Kaldir, hoping my expression remained serene. “This ancestor was one of the
Desert Princes. Alliances, including marriage, have occasionally occurred
between the Lightsiders and the Shadowlanders. But this is an extreme
resemblance. Kaldir, is this personage also related to you?”

He hesitated and I saw the knot in his throat bobble as he
swallowed. “Possibly.”

He lies,
I thought and also noticed Storne’s demeanor
stiffening. I caught his eye and shook my head very slightly. I said, “Do
please let us know when you find out. As you may be aware, matters of genealogy
are of great interest to my people.” I strove to keep my voice light, as if the
matter were of only moderate importance.

I tugged at Storne’s sleeve and we left Kaldir staring
thoughtfully at the portrait, with Maia lingering in the shadows nearby. When
we had left the room, Storne asked me, “Why did you not allow me to continue
confronting him? We might have learned something. Now he is inventing a tale
with which to fob us off.” His voice was rough and angry.

“There is a secret there, and I also am sure he is lying,
but I believe we will discover the truth when we travel into the Lightsiders’
dominion. In the meantime, I do not wish to arouse his concern.” Also angry, I
virtually hissed at Storne, my lips as close to his ear as our disparate
heights allowed.

He relaxed. I continued, my tone a little calmer, “If we are
to deal well together, you must let me know before you manipulate these little
occurrences, so we can be of united will and intent.”

He pressed his lips together. “I beg your pardon, Queen
Audryn. I am so used to working alone that I misstepped. I trust that this will
not affect any decision you are to make.”

I released his sleeve. “Not unless it happens again.” I knew
that it had been difficult for Storne to apologize, so I smiled at him and
lowered my voice into a whisper. “Come to me later tonight. We must discuss
your activities today and, um…other matters.”

He gave me one of his slow, rare, blinding smiles that
gladdened his entire face unto his gray eyes. He touched my hand and murmured,
“Later.”

Later came sooner, for third moon set behind the mountains
earlier than in the flatlands surrounding Castle Remarck. When I entered my
suite, I was startled to see, in the torchlight illuminating the forest outside
my window, Storne doing a most peculiar thing.

He was hugging the oak tree.

Hugging it, clasping it with obvious passion. His face, in
profile, was…transported, as though he were experiencing a spiritual epiphany.
He was so still that a doe and her fawn approached, eyed him with evident
curiosity but nevertheless set about grazing.

I remembered that his clan symbols were the firemountain and
the oak. I had asked about the mountain but what was the significance of the
tree?

The oak, glistening in the torchlight, seemed to reflect
Storne’s inner fire. As I watched, that silvery glow brightened. Did one feed
off the other?

Darksider nobility revered nature, but I had not realized
that their reverence included such passion and that the trees themselves
returned their fervor in such a visible and energetic way.

What was this strange power? How might it be harnessed?

* * * * *

Storne entered and I said, striving to keep my voice even,
“Good evening, Lord Storne. How did you find the oak tree?”

He smiled, still appearing to radiate energy.

“I did not realize that the oak trees are sacred objects for
your people,” I said.

“Only some of them, the silver oaks. They are an important
light source in our lands. They glow after certain rituals are performed.”

“You hugged the tree.”

“Yes. It must have seemed odd but it works.”

“How long do the emanations last?”

“From moonset to moonrise.”

“Convenient.”

“Very. And if removed correctly, a cut bough will light a
dwelling for hours.”

“No wonder the oaks are revered. They are a marvel. But how has
this phenomenon escaped our observation in the past?”

“We have not often intermarried with your people and we have
kept the trees’ properties quiet.”

“A secret?”

“No, but we haven’t broadcast the information, as the
Progenitors might have put it.” He glanced through the window at the tree outside,
and it pulsed with a renewed glow.

“Why not?”

“The belief that there is not much of interest on Darkside
keeps us safe,” he said.

“Just as the belief that the Shadowlands have much of value
has made us a target.”

“Especially the royal family.”

I wrapped my arms around my torso and found myself swaying
back and forth. “Have you learned anything else?”

He led me to the red-cushioned couch, eased me down and sat
beside me. “Nothing conclusive.”

I bit my lip. “What inconclusive information have you uncovered?”

“It’s said that a fire started suddenly on the barge and
that it did not strike a rock at all.”

“Who made such a statement?”

“An elderly boatman in Catura Cove told me this,” he said.
“He said he saw the reddish glow of fire eating away at the hull.”

“He could have seen the braziers for food preparation.”

“He was definite that the fire was at the waterline of the
barge and not on the deck.”

I rose and paced. “How could such a sabotage been
accomplished?”

“I don’t know but have asked Parron to locate the remains of
the barge if they yet exist. They may yield some information. In the meantime,
keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Queen Audryn.”

I managed a smile. “Where have I heard that before?”

* * * * *

I had disobeyed Storne’s admonition, having left Kloutt
behind at Castle Remarck and sent Frayn to the north country, but nevertheless
planned to set forth to the WestMarch without waiting for Frayn’s return. In
the interim, I secretly ordered Lady Mercourie to prepare a boat for my use while
I traveled to Catura Cove to hold court. After I had settled myriad matters for
the locals, I rode to the shoreline accompanied only by Maia, Parron and
Storne.

This day Catura was as flat and silver as a mirror, its
stillness belying its fearsome reputation as a killer. The beach upon which I
stood was composed of gray granitic cobbles, each about the size of my fist,
with the distant shore visible only as a darker ridged line. I contemplated
Catura in silence, then said, “I cannot see any rocks breaking the surface of
the lake.” I strove to keep my voice calm and conversational.

“I had heard that the boulder which sank the barge is just
below the waterline, Your Majesty,” Parron said.

I turned to Storne. “Did you ask the boatman you spoke with
the location of any underwater boulders?”

Storne wetted his lips. “He knew of none in this vicinity.”

“Let us go.” I led the way southward along the stony beach
to the wharf, which was busy with fishermen unloading the morning catch and
loud with merchants hawking their wares, everything from gutted and dried fish
to nets and oars. Catura Cove was a vital little community that supplied most
of the southern Shadowlands with fish as well as what we called “lake
vegetables”, plants with unique properties. Caducia had told me once that there
were nutrients in the lake vegetables that were unavailable in any other foods,
and I had ordered them included in every meal I ate.

At dockside, Mercourie awaited us with a wizened old fellow
in grubby whites who was braiding rope. When we approached he dropped to his
knees, stammering a greeting.

“Arise.” I touched his shoulder. “I understand you were
nearby when…when…”

He struggled to his feet. “Aye, Yer Maj-majesty.” His voice
was rough, and from the miasma hanging about him I realized he smoked toreed, a
dried lake vegetable that allegedly had medicinal properties. I preferred to
eat rather than to smoke mine and was glad of my choice.

“Accompany us,” I said, “and tell us what you remember.”

Mercourie led us onto a flat-bottomed craft that I realized
was the new royal barge. My belly churned, and my unease must have been
visible, for Storne and Maia each took one of my hands. Their clasp reassured
me. I knew that no harm would come to me in their presence.

I reminded myself that I was a good swimmer. Also, I was
clad in a lightweight riding habit rather than a gown. My sister and mother had
worn gowns the day they had died. Doubtless the water weight combined with the
heavy fabrics had dragged them to their deaths.

I sensed Parron’s reassuring presence behind me, took a deep
breath and stepped aboard the barge. My boots clattered on the wooden decks as
I followed Mercourie forward. She, at least, held none of my concerns, wearing
a red woolen cape that opened to reveal a matching gown with black trim, the
colors of my house. I was heartened by her show of loyalty and confidence.

In the prow, she turned and smiled at me. “By your command?”
she asked.

“Yes.”

She waved a hand at the pilot, aft, who gave the order to
cast off.

The boatman said, “I watched the royal barge leave the dock
that day. Oh, it was a grand sight, all the fine lords and ladies. The king and
queen wore green, as I remember. Like new leaves they were. And Princess Beryla
was all in gold. She gleamed like the sun.”

“Yes, I remember her dress.” The weighty metallic fabric had
no doubt hastened my sister’s drowning, but I was now sure that this man was
telling the truth. He had seen what had happened. He did remember my family’s
deaths.

“You have seen the sun?” Storne asked, his curiosity
evident.

“Aye, long ago,” the boatman said. “I gots a yen to travel,
and crossed through the WestMarch with a caravan, for trade. We sold dried fish
to the DesertDwellers.” His lip curled.

I wondered why he held the Children of Light in contempt but
decided not to pursue that topic. “You saw my sister Beryla. And then?” I
prompted.

“I was curious, see, and followed in my boat. I gots a
little coracle, just a runabout, that I use for short trips, when the lake was
flat and calm. An’ at first I was right. Dead calm, ye might say ’twas, Yer Majesty.”
He glanced at me.

He was clearly enjoying the attention. I could not imagine
that many listened to the tales this wanderer told, half-mad with age, stinking
of toreed. But to me, he had proven his veracity.

“The dead calm that’s always before a storm. The sky, see,
she gets these yellowish clouds, and the air’s heavy and still. Then the wind
starts, the merest chilly strand floating from the mountaintop. And the breeze
from the lake rises to meet it with a clap of thunder so loud your eardrums
otta break. Where the winds clash, the waves do rise. Whirlpools and
waterspouts form.”

“Is that what happened that day?” I asked.

“I saw the signs, I did, and sailing closer to the royal
barge, shouted a warning. No one heard me, for the musicians were playing and
the wine flowed. Then the princess, rest her sweet soul, turned and beheld a
waterspout. She screamed and grabbed the king’s sleeve. When he saw the storm,
he ordered the barge to turn about. When it did, it tore apart, there.”

He pointed to a spot that was innocent of a single ripple.

“Are you sure of the location?” I asked.

“Aye. But I swear on my life, Yer Majesty, there be nothin’
beneath the water there. We dragged the lake, found bodies, finery, clothing—even
timbers from the barge. No great underwater reef that could tear the guts out
of a boat.

“Anyhoo, when the hole opened in the hull, I saw it. There
was a fire set down below and that was why the boat stove in so easy. The fire
chewed away the hull.”

My vision blurred. I swayed, grabbing for the barge’s rail.
Behind me, Storne took my shoulders in a gentle grasp, and I leaned against his
chest. Maia and Parron also moved in to support me. “Did you take aboard
survivors?” Storne’s voice was soft and even.

“Beggin’ your pardon, madam.” The boatman flicked a
concerned glance in my direction.

I flapped a limp hand, believing that I ought to just get
through this appalling narrative. “Pray continue.”

He cleared his throat. “Aboard the barge, pandemonium. When
the princess went over the side, she sank right ’way.”

I closed my eyes. Pain clutched my belly.

“The king went in after her without a moment of hesitation.
Oh, he was a hero, your father.”

I opened my eyes and stared at the boatman.

“He was a hero,” he repeated. “When he saw he couldna rescue
her, he dragged others to the surface, to my boat, to safety. He refused help.”

“He saved lives,” I whispered.

“Yes, he did that, did King Mangor the Great.” The boatman’s
voice was proud.

I blinked away tears. “What of my mother, the queen?”

“I didna see her. She musta bin on the other side o’ the
boat.”

“Do you know the personage of Lord Kloutt?” Maia asked.

“A fellow with longish iron-gray hair, dressed in black and
red?” the boatman asked.

“I do not know what he wore that day,” I said. “Perhaps.”

“Mayhap. I saw such a man.”

“Where?” I asked.

“I canna remember.”

“Not by the queen’s side? Or helping the princess or the
king?” Maia wanted to know.

“Nay.” The boatman shook his head. “Truth ta tell, there
were so many o’ the nobility that I didna know them all. But I knew them—the
king, the queen and the princess.” He stared at me. “They were the ones that
mattered.”

I covered my face with my hands and sank to my knees. “Take
me home,” I whispered.