The Baker's Boy (72 page)

His hazel eyes
held a simple appeal. But what could she say? She had no words of comfort,
there were no answers to disclose. For some reason, Melli's mind returned to
her premonitions of a week earlier. Squeezing his hand gently, she said,
"Perhaps it's all for a purpose."

"If my life
is meant for a purpose," said Jack, "then why have I no say in
it?"

The wind picked
up, drawing the flames from the fire. Melli was suddenly aware of the cold.
Jack had answered his own question: fate never asked a man if he were willing
to dance.

The queen regarded
her reflection in the mirror. She looked far more self-possessed than she felt,
but she would have it no other way-show was an integral part of her position.
She must appear calm, regal, and above all in control at all times. The queen
had learned much about the importance of outward composure in the years
following her husband's hunting accident. She had learned it was not just
enough to be strong, one also had to appear strong. People set great store by
appearances.

She had ruled in
his place for five years now, and it was not self-flattery to say she had done
well. She had managed to keep the various rival factions at court from each
others' throats, although she had to admit the war with Halcus must take some
of the credit: men will bicker less between themselves when there is a war to
be fought. Despite the war she had kept good relations with other neighboring
powers, tax revenues were up--except in the east-and her own popularity was
high.

The queen had been
aware for many years now of the need to consolidate her position and the
position of her son. The Known Lands were becoming increasingly unstable. The
Knights of Valdis were stirring up trouble in the south, and the duke of Bren's
avarice was causing apprehension in the north. Not only were there threats from
outside to contend with, but there were also those closer to home who sought to
overthrow her. It had not been unknown in the Four Kingdoms for the throne to
be usurped by a forceful challenger. The people considered the throne
vulnerable without a strong king in power. So the queen had deliberately
courted the most powerful lords in the country, the ones who had lands and men
at their disposal and wealth enough to constitute a threat. She knew it was
better to keep her enemies within the fold. The queen had played a delicate
game and played it well-there had been no challengers to her rule, the kingdoms
had remained stable, and her son's position as heir had seemed assured.

The final element
to her plan was to have her son wed the daughter of the mightiest of these
lords, Lord Maybor. However, things had gone awry. It was undeniably the fault
of Maybor's headstrong daughter. The foolish girl had taken it into her head to
run off, and in doing so wreaked havoc with the strategies of queen and
country. If Maybor ever found the girl, she sincerely hoped he would give her a
sound beating and then disinherit her-there was nothing worse than a
disobedient daughter. The Lady Melliandra had a lot to answer for; because of
her, the queen was forced to deal with a man she loathed above all others, Lord
Baralis, King's Chancellor.

She had made a
wager and lost. She had to pay up; her pride dictated that she would. In one sense
she did not regret the wager-her husband needed Baralis' medicine, and nothing
he had tried had improved his condition as much. It was in a way an equitable
bet and one she had been sure of winning. Now, though, she realized it was
naive of her to think that Baralis would play anything fairly. She strongly
suspected that he had tipped the scales in his balance-and was sure he'd
ordered his mercenaries to pick up the girl before the Royal Guard got to her.
Unfortunately she could prove nothing and was therefore forced to concede
defeat.

What price would
she have to pay for her desire to cure her husband? What price for her
gullibility?

She was expecting
Baralis at any moment. She had called him to an audience and he would not keep
her waiting. She smoothed her hair and looked upon her image. She could take
comfort in the fact that she looked cool and self-assured. She would not give
Baralis the satisfaction of seeing her anything less. Her steward walked in,
bowed, and then announced: "Lord Baralis is awaiting Your Highness'
pleasure in the audience chamber." She nodded and the servant left.

She had decided
not to be present when Baralis arrived; she would let him sit and wait. There
was only a small advantage to be gained by such a move, but she would take it
nonetheless. The queen poured herself a quarter cup of wine and watered it
heavily, she would need all her wits about her. She sipped slowly at her drink,
determined not to hurry. Once she gauged that sufficient time had elapsed to
cause Baralis displeasure, she stood up and took one final look at her
reflection-the queen had taken great care to dress most regally, and the crown
jewels flashed brilliantly at her throat. She took a deep breath and went to
meet her adversary.

She entered the
audience chamber. Baralis was standing by the window. He rushed forward and
bowed low. "Lord Baralis," she said with a slight incline of her
head. She would offer no apologies for her lateness.

"Your
Highness, it is indeed a pleasure. I hope I find you well?" The queen
thought she detected a slight edge to his voice-he had not liked being kept
waiting.

"I am well,
Lord Baralis, unfortunately I cannot say the same thing for my husband. Your
presence in his chamber was most disagreeable. I will not tolerate any other such
infringements."

"You may rest
assured, Your Highness, it will not happen again." He was so polished, so
sure of himself. She was not about to make things easy for him. She turned her
back on him and walked toward the window.

"I'm sure
Your Highness is aware that the deadline for our little wager is past."
There was a slight pause, and then he added, "Tell me, has the girl been
found?"

The queen had to
stop herself from whirling round in anger: has the girl been found, indeed!

"Come, come
now, Lord Baralis, you know only too well that the girl has not been
found." She kept her voice calm but loaded with warning. "Do not
presume to play games with me, sir, for you will find it to your detriment if
you do." He was about to reply, but the queen halted him by raising her
arm. Her page walked forward and poured a glass of wine. She made no effort to
water it. It suited her that Baralis believe she was drinking it unmixed-she
had arranged that the wine be previously watered. She made no offer of
refreshment to Baralis. She indicated that the page should leave and they both
waited in silence for the door to close behind him.

"Since the
girl has not been found, then I must claim payment of the wager. I know Your
Highness to be a woman of great integrity, one who would not fail to honor her
debts."

"Save your
breath, Lord Baralis. I place little value on your flattery. I would rather get
down to the meat of the business."

"You are most
forthright."

"I would
request the same from you." The queen noticed Baralis' hands. He tried to
keep them behind his back or in his robe, but he could not hide them all of the
time; they were gnarled and twisted. Strangely, she found herself drawing
strength from the sight.

"Very well,
Your Highness, I will speak candidly. Prince Kylock is at an age when he should
marry. Lord Maybor's daughter, Melliandra, is no longer a suitable choice for
his bride. I am sure you must agree with me so far?" Baralis looked to her
for acknowledgment.

"Go on."

"I believe I
am aware of your motives for wanting the match-you wished to strengthen your
son's position by allying him with a powerful lord."

"And if I
did?" The queen spoke sharply; she felt Baralis was attempting to
manipulate her.

"It is a most
commendable policy, and one which I wholeheartedly agree with. I applaud Your
Highness' efforts at consolidation. I think, however, you may have set your
sights a little low."

"What do you
mean?" Her voice was cold as stone.

"I mean, Your
Highness, that if you wish to secure your position and that of your son there
are better ways of achieving those aims than by marrying Prince Kylock to the
daughter of a mere local lord."

"Who would
you marry him to, Baralis?" In her anger she dropped the pretense of
courtesy.

"Catherine of
Bren. The duke of Bren's only child." The queen was too stunned to say a
word. Baralis capitalized on this and continued: "I need not tell you how
powerful Bren is; the size of its armies are legendary. It is styled a dukedom,
but it is richer and more populated than the Four Kingdoms. Such an alliance
would be glorious for our country, and you, my queen, would be praised
throughout history for bringing about such a fortuitous union."

Outwardly she
remained calm, but inside the queen was reeling. An alliance with Bren. Such a
possibility had never occurred to her; she had assumed Baralis had another
lord's daughter in mind. Bren was so far away, so distant, foreign and unknown.
She had heard Baralis' words and had registered his attempt to appeal to her
personal ambitions: who did not want to be remembered throughout history? Oh,
he had a clever tongue; he painted a dazzling picture, one that she had to
admit held certain appeal.

"Have you
approached the duke of Bren with such a notion?" She was careful to make
her voice seem disinterested. "I have taken that liberty, though only on a
hypothetical basis." Baralis was lying, she was sure of it. He had
probably planned this for months, even years.

"So,
hypothetically, is the duke willing for such a match?"

"He is more
than willing, Your Highness, he is eager. He too seeks consolidation. He has no
son." Baralis paused dramatically. "If this union were to go through,
your son would find himself heir to the two greatest powers in the north."
The queen had never seen Baralis so animated. "Think of it, Your Highness:
Bren and the Four Kingdoms ... what an illustrious alliance they would
make."

"The duke may
be willing, but I cannot sanction a match for my son without seeing his
proposed bride." The queen raised the first objection that came into her
head. "My son must marry someone who is suitable in all ways. I know
nothing about Catherine of Bren." To her amazement Baralis smiled with
delight. He dug into his robe and drew something out; he handed it to her with
a flourish.

"Your
Highness, I present Catherine of Bren."

She took it from
him. It was a small portrait, no bigger than the palm of her hand: a painting
of a young girl. A beautiful girl with the face of an angel, such sweetness in
her pink lips, such innocence in her blue eyes, her golden curls almost a halo.
"How do I know this is a true likeness?"

"I have
letters of verification from the duke himself and his archbishop."

"How long
since this was painted?"

"Six months
at the latest. Catherine is approaching her eighteenth year."

"Is she
willing for the match?"

"I took the
liberty of sending a likeness of Prince Kylock to the duke. He assured me his
daughter looks most favorably upon her proposed suitor."

"It would
appear, Lord Baralis, that you have taken many liberties," reprimanded the
queen.

"With all due
respect, Your Highness, I am king's chancellor." He met her eye and they
exchanged glances, each assessing the other.

"Lord
Baralis," she said with great dignity, "you have stated your case in
a most persuasive manner. I will, however, make no hasty decisions on a matter
of such import. I must think long and hard upon the subject of who my son is to
marry." The queen paused a moment. "I realize that I am under some
obligation to you, but I think I am right to say that I only agreed to consider
your choice. You have my word that I will do so." The queen was aware she
was playing the terms of the wager down, however she knew that Baralis would
not care to split hairs at this crucial point in his negotiations.

"Your
Highness is most gracious," he said with a slight bow. "I could ask
for no more."

"Very good,
Lord Baralis. You may go now." She was still holding the portrait and
assumed he would ask for it back. He did not. He bowed once more and took his
leave.

Once he had gone,
she breathed a sigh of relief and called for some unwatered wine. She sat down
and looked upon the likeness of Catherine of Bren. The queen had never seen a
more beautiful girl. She comprehended why he had not asked for her picture
back: no one could look upon such a face and not be drawn to it. She laughed-a
humorless sound. Baralis was undoubtedly a master of manipulation.

Although it had
been five long years since he had last been on the northeastern plains, Tawl
remembered them well: the gentle slope of the land, the open skies, the brisk
winds and the bountiful earth. It was farm country and nature was generous with
her gifts; the soil was rich and fertile and the waters ran clear and
sparkling.

The sprinkling of
snow that currently graced the plains only enhanced their beauty to Tawl. For
the first time in days his mood was lightened. He had been brought up in the
Great Marshes, where the land was often bogged down with water, and the soil no
more than mud. When farmers actually managed to tease crops from the land, they
were often blight ridden: the wet soil harbored diseases. Tawl, like most
people who lived upon the marshes, had great appreciation for the blessing of
fine soil, and the northeastern plains boasted some of the finest soil in the
known lands.

He and Nabber rode
on northward and eventually Tawl found himself recognizing specific landmarks:
a grove of trees, the curve of a stream, the tilt of the land. He knew they
were drawing close to Bevlin's cottage. They had not passed a village or a
solitary farmhouse all day. The wiseman lived in moderate isolation, not
shunning the world, merely keeping his distance.