The Measure of the Magic (25 page)

In any case, she had made a bargain with him, and he had yet to see any evidence she intended to keep it. It was his man who had killed the King, done so on his orders and at her request, and the agreement had been plain enough. Once the King was dispatched, his daughter charged with the crime, and Isoeld ascended the throne, he was to be given ready access both to her and the Elven people so he could begin the work of gathering new disciples for the Order of the Hawk. He knew they were there; he had even seen them at gatherings he had held on the outskirts of this part of the kingdom’s borders. But they were a minority afraid of condemnation and even retribution for their beliefs, and so they kept a low profile. It was his intention to remove the barriers that forced them to keep silent by making it clear to all that even the Elven throne was accepting of his work.

Yet none of that had happened. The Queen had not so much as mentioned the Children of the Hawk the few times she had addressed either the Council or the Elven people, and for all intents and purposes nothing had changed for the better where he was concerned.

So here he was now, come to find out why this was so, come to advise her that if she didn’t act quickly to make things right, she might find out to her regret the consequences of ignoring her promise. He did not intend to back away simply because she had now gotten what she wanted and might feel less beholden to him.

He was considering the nature of the consequences he would impose when the door to the receiving room opened and she stepped through. She gave him only a cursory glance before closing the door behind her and locking it.

“Good day, Seraphic,” she greeted, her voice cool.

He nodded, but said nothing in return. She gave him a look and then walked over to the windows that opened into the gardens behind the building and carefully drew together the floor-length curtains, leaving the room in semi-darkness.

“Better if no one sees us just now,” she said, turning back to face him.

Even in the dimness of the room’s shadowy illumination, she was beautiful to look at. He could understand why Oparion Amarantyne had been so taken with her. He might have been similarly tempted—had been more than once—except he knew what sort of creature lived within that lovely skin.

“I don’t mind the secrecy, but I can’t say I much care for the treatment otherwise.” He walked forward a few steps, putting him close enough to watch her eyes. “You kept me waiting a very long time.”

“For which I apologize,” she said. “But the High Council has been meeting all day, trying to come to an agreement about how to treat the threat of a Troll invasion. Unfortunately, they lack ideas and backbones in equal measure. It is much easier to debate the matter to death.”

She moved into the light more directly, and he saw the deep furrows scratched into the smooth skin of her face.

“Teonette does nothing to help?” he asked, trying to mask his surprise at what he was seeing, wondering who was responsible.

She laughed softly. “Come, Seraphic. A title does not the man make. He may be first minister, but that does not confer on him anything he doesn’t already possess. In this situation, he is sadly inadequate. You know what men like Teonette are good for? Of course you do. You must also know, then, that if I relied on him to lend backbone or clear thinking to our efforts, I should already be imprisoned and sentenced.”

Skeal Eile felt a chill run up his spine. He could feel it clearly: she was already planning on eliminating her lover, putting one more layer of protection between herself and discovery. Was there any reason to believe she would not seek to eliminate him, as well?

“We had an agreement, as I recall,” he said instead. “I was to remove those who stood between you and the throne, and you were to give me free access to the Elven people in order to seek new converts to the
Children of the Hawk. I fulfilled my end of that agreement. Why do you now fail to honor yours?”

“Come, come, Skeal Eile,” she soothed, moving right up against him, placing her hands on his shoulders, pressing herself against him. “Don’t be like this. Things are more complicated than I imagined. I need a little more time. But consider the rewards of your patience. Teonette might lack backbone and common sense, but you do not. I might have need of a new lover and adviser. The position could open up any day now. Why should you not apply?”

He thought about it for exactly the time it took him to remove her hands and back away. “I think I will stay on the other side of that line, Elven Queen. Tempting though the offer is, I prefer my own company.”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Well, if you are that sort, then I understand. Suit yourself.”

“But I still intend to hold you to your bargain.” He gave her a smile. “Perhaps this would be a good time for you to tell me when and how you intend to honor it—your difficulties with the High Council and the Trolls notwithstanding.”

She turned away. “As I said, it will take time. There has been an unexpected setback to our plans. The Princess—dear little Phryne—has escaped. I don’t know how she managed it, but she got free. So now I must find her and eliminate her. Her escape does serve a purpose, of course. It suggests she is guilty as charged and might provide the excuse I need to have her killed when she resists being brought back to face her accusers. My men are out hunting her. They will find her sooner or later.”

Skeal Eile shook his head. “You let her escape?”

She wheeled on him angrily. “I didn’t
let
her do anything. She managed it with help from the outside. Her cousins, the Orullians, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. She has nowhere to go that I cannot find her. It won’t take long.”

“Of course it won’t,” he chided. “No more than a few hours, I imagine.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “It might go more quickly if you gave me the use of your assassin again. He seems able enough. Perhaps he could track her down and arrange another accident?”

Skeal Eile shook his head. “He is otherwise engaged.” He walked over to the sofa where he had spent his time waiting on her and sat down anew, leaning back into the cushions. “Besides, you haven’t finished paying for his previous use. I see no reason to lend him to you again.”

“No, I suppose you don’t.” She stood where she was, studying him. “Very well. I shall arrange for you to be presented to the High Council in a week’s time. Afterward, a public forum will be held in which you will be given an opportunity to speak of your work and of the sect. Would that suit you?”

He nodded slowly. “It will do for a beginning. At least, it would show good faith on your part.”

She walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. For a moment, he was afraid she would put her hands on him again, perhaps renew her plea for services beyond what he was prepared to offer. But she kept herself at arm’s length as she studied his face.

“You and I are more alike than you might care to admit,” she said. “We may not be compatible in all of the ways that would make things interesting, but we do share a craving for power and its uses. You would rule the Children of the Hawk and through them, your people. I would rule the Elves. Both of us will not hesitate to remove any obstacles that stand in our way. Both of us use subterfuge, deception, and cunning to advance our interests. Other people are of no importance except insofar as they can help us achieve our goals. I do not fool myself that anything I seek is done with a righteous and noble mind-set. I do not pretend at being honorable or considerate in any way. I was poor and dismissed by everyone for years, and I will not let that happen again.”

She paused. “The Trolls that besiege our valley will eventually find a way to get through our defenses—if not those of my Elves, who are skilled fighters, then certainly those of your humans, who are not. When that happens, an escape will be necessary for both of us. We cannot remain if the Trolls seize the valley. We are no match for them.”

“Do not presume to speak for me,” Skeal Eile warned.

“But I do presume,” she said at once. “I know of your small magic. Yet I have something far more powerful. I have magic born of the
Faerie world and brought over into this one. I have Elfstones, Seraphic, and I can stand against anything.”

Skeal Eile had heard of Elfstones, though he had never seen any. It was said that no one had seen them in many, many years—that no one even knew where they were at this point.

“You have possession of these?”

She smiled. “They were hidden by Phryne’s grandmother, but their hiding place will be revealed to me soon enough, and then they will be mine.”

He grimaced. “Will they, now? Then why is it I worry that your expectations might be unrealistic?”

“Because you do not have the faith of your convictions,” she said. “And I do. I know how to get what I want. You would do well to keep me as your ally instead of threatening me with reprisals. We are both faced with a dangerous situation that could turn around on us at any moment—if not through the invasion of the Trolls, then through the interference of our own peoples.”

He held her gaze for a moment without speaking. “I think that perhaps I am better prepared to face dangerous situations than you are.”

Her eyes glittered. “You might do well to hope that you don’t have to find out.”

She stood abruptly, giving him a dazzling smile. “I think you should go now. We have an understanding. You will hear from me within the week—an official invitation to visit Arborlon and speak to the High Council and the Elven people, as promised.”

He started to get up, but she quickly motioned him back again. “Oh, I don’t think you should walk out with me, Seraphic. We don’t want to create an appearance of impropriety. Let me send someone to escort you out.”

“That’s very kind,” he replied with a smile. He motioned toward her face with a slow, vague gesture. “By the way, I wouldn’t let those scratches go unattended. They look rather nasty.”

She smiled back. “Accidents happen, Seraphic. You might want to bear that in mind.”

Then she turned and was out the door before he could respond. But it didn’t stop him from thinking that he would have given anything in that moment to be able to strangle her.

H
E WALKED BACK
through the city to the small inn at which he was staying, one frequented by non-Elven travelers, and retired to his room to brood. He could not remember the last time he had been this unhappy. What made his situation even worse was he lacked a way to change that. How could he bring Isoeld Severine to heel? He couldn’t expose her by revealing her part in the death of the King without revealing his own. He couldn’t send Bonnasaint after her because killing her gained him nothing; it just put him further away from his goal of persuading the Elven people to his cause. And threats were pointless. A woman like Isoeld was immune to any threats that he might muster.

He needed something else, another way to get to her, a form of leverage that would force her to do what he wanted. He had believed wrongly that he had gained that leverage by giving her what she wanted—her husband dead and herself poised to gain the throne. Where was her gratitude for that? Nowhere in sight.

What troubled him even more was her failure to take control of things when she’d had the chance. The Elven people were in shock over losing the King; they would have rallied to her at once if she had demanded it. Instead, she had dithered about with her stepdaughter’s fate and tried to handle it discreetly. She might have intended to kill the girl, but she had failed to carry out the act. Now it might be too late. In spite of what the Queen thought, the girl would not be easily found. She had family and friends and allies, people who didn’t like the baker’s daughter who had married their King. They would help her. They would hide her. It could take weeks before anything further happened.

Weeks that none of them had. The Drouj wouldn’t sit idle while the Elves worked out their internal problems. They didn’t care about the Children of the Hawk or the Seraphic. Both were nothing more than obstacles to be eliminated when they invaded the valley.

Which they would do very soon, be believed. By now, they had probably found one of the passes, and that was all the help they needed. An army of Trolls of the magnitude described by Sider Ament would be more than a match for the people of the valley. They would
attack and they would crush any opposition, and that would be the end of everything.

He went down to the tiny dining room and ate dinner at the common table, but spoke to no one. When he was done, he went straight to bed. He would return to Glensk Wood and await word from Bonnasaint on his efforts to eliminate the boy. At least he could count on that much. Bonnasaint wouldn’t dare fail him again—not after failing him once already. Kill the boy, take his staff, and tighten his hold on the followers of the Children of the Hawk—that would put him in a better mood. It was bad enough when Sider Ament was still alive and walking the land. It was intolerable that this boy, Panterra Qu—a mere child—had taken his place and was already presuming that simply by virtue of carrying the black staff he could summon, rally, and lead the people of the valley. He had no right to make that assumption. He had no right to anything.