The Sleeping King (11 page)

She moved around her desk and sat down. “I believe this package is for you.”

“Ahh, yes. I was expecting that. I am relieved to see it arrived in a timely manner.” He leaned forward to pick it up.

She watched curiously as Kadir unwrapped the package to reveal a rather ugly stick, no longer than her forearm and no thicker than her finger, covered with bumps. “What is that?”

“It's just a dousing rod.”

She was scholar enough to know that it was not just any dousing rod. Rather, it was a magic-imbued rod and, given who was holding it, likely a powerful one. “Where does it come from?” she ventured to ask.

“The Council of Beasts. It is made from wood of the treant Whisper.”

“The progeny of Spirit? That Whisper?” she blurted, startled.

Kadir shrugged disinterestedly. “I believe the council said something like that. I have no interest in their totems and nature mysticism. All that concerns me is that this rod aids in finding and transporting objects and people. If my companion and I had this a month ago, our journey to Tyrel would have taken a fraction of the time and misery.”

She eyed the rod askance. So much power in such an unassuming little twig? It was hard to credit. Almost as hard to credit as the mythic Council of Beasts itself having touched an object that now rested in her study.

“And why do you have need of such a thing here?” Charlotte asked.

Kadir smiled, a false politician's smile over an inscrutable gaze, and she needed no further answer. It was a contingency in case her daughter gave him problems. Charlotte almost wished Raina would. Almost.

“With the accidental death of the young man you were planning to overtly pledge Raina to, we have had to move up the schedule for her,” Kadir announced.

Charlotte stared, stunned. “I beg your pardon?”

“We cannot risk something happening to her before she can do her duty to us.”

“And how do you plan to explain her offspring if she is not safely married off to some local boy?”

“That is not my problem.”

“Well, it is mine!” she snapped. “The tradition is that the daughters of Tyrel become engaged in their sixteenth year. They marry soon thereafter, and then you get your babes on them.
After
they marry. By law, bastard daughters do not inherit landholdings, which would give both of us headaches in training the girls and trying to explain why they
do
get to become the Ladies of Tyrel.”

Kadir shrugged. “The decision is made. How you explain Raina's sudden offspring is up to you. But this happens now.”

Dismay poured through her. Kadir did not understand. The shame of it … the logistic problems … and then there was Raina herself. She would never agree to bear children outside of marriage—

Justin
. He and Raina had been inseparable forever. He was common born, but educated enough and a good-looking lad. Charlotte's husband said he showed promise as a swordsman, and she herself had sensed a latent talent for magic in the youth. He was not ideal, but he was close at hand, and Raina would likely agree to a betrothal to him. Yes. Justin could work.

“It will take some time to arrange, but I think I can salvage the situation here,” she said slowly, her mind racing.

“No,” Kadir replied firmly. “Now.”

Impossible!
She opened her mouth to say so, but the younger mage of Alchizzadon, the one to whom she had yet to be introduced—an omission she was intrigued by from Kadir—spoke up first. “Does the girl know aught, yet?”

“The girl” was her daughter. And had a name. An impertinent question, that. But then, she supposed he might be somewhat impatient to meet his future lover. A little resistance overcome by a love poison and, stars willing, Raina's experience would leave behind the same sorts of pleasant memories that it had for her.

Why then the sudden rage bubbling within her breast? It took her wholly by surprise. Memory came pouring back; she'd nearly revolted against this long tradition of her family's when she'd been Raina's age, and a remnant of that rebellion flared in her now.

Her adult reason took control once more. In spite of the wrinkle Kadir had thrown at them with his insistence on proceeding immediately, all would turn out right. Justin would cooperate. He was obviously sweet on Raina, and who would say no to marrying into a title and wealth? As for Raina, she would not fight a betrothal to Justin. Regarding the other part, the one involving the mages, she would be upset at first, stubborn even. But after the love elixir … yes, everything would be fine.

It had been Kadir's eyes that turned aside the crisis for Charlotte all those years ago. They'd had been dark and soulful, brimming with sympathy for her, and had softened her heart just enough that logic and cajolery—and a love draught—had won the day. Something similar, some tiny thing, would soften her own stubborn daughter's heart. Eyeing the young man speculatively, she allowed that he was handsome enough to capture her daughter's fancy.

“Your husband? Does he remember anything?” Kadir asked.

She pulled her attention back to the conversation at hand. “No. The spell of forgetting has held.”

“Bring her to us, Char,” Kadir said gently. “It is time she knew the truth. Do you wish me to be with you for the telling?”

She gasped at the old endearment, her lingering doubts punctured by it. The moment of rebellion drained away, leaving her empty. Sad. “No. It will be best if I tell her in private.”

Kadir nodded in understanding. “As you wish.”

She rose from her desk to fetch Raina, personally. She needed the time to compose herself after Kadir's bombshell revelation that everything must happen right away. She had no doubt there was more to the decision than simple concern that Raina might have an unfortunate accident. Which alarmed her mightily. What information was he keeping secret? A prophecy of some kind? A vague notion of warning her daughter nagged at Charlotte. But how could any young girl truly prepare for the revelations to come? How was she supposed to prepare herself for it as a mother?

She had dreaded this moment her entire adult life. But, inevitably, sickeningly, it had arrived. The moment of betrayal was upon her.

 

CHAPTER

3

Raina was surprised that her mother had yet to make an appearance at her birthday feast. Charlotte was nothing if not a fine hostess. Arianna had, of course, stepped in and taken over welcoming the guests and ordering the meal served. Raina suspected, though, that most here were more interested in the ale than the food.

The great hall had been transformed by streamers of white gauze and cascades of spring wildflowers into a magical bower for the night. As she looked out across the assemblage, warmth filled her at the collection of familiar faces. Neighbors and servitors alike, this was her family, and she felt safe and loved surrounded by them like this.

Interestingly enough, the visitors from Alchizzadon had not put in an appearance. It was almost as if they knew themselves to be intruders to this gathering.

The hour grew late and the assemblage was well into its cups, and still there was no sign of her mother. Raina spied Justin seated near the back of the hall with a brace of manor lads. He grinned and hoisted a brimming mug of ale at her. She smiled fondly as he broke into a bawdy song that was taken up immediately by the other feasters.

“Daughter.” She started at her mother's voice behind her on the dais. She had not seen Charlotte arrive.

“Oh, Mother, my party is wonderful—” she began.

“Come.” Charlotte cut her off; her voice was as hard and cold as diamond under the raucous singing.

Alarmed, but sensing the need not to make a fuss, Raina pasted on a false smile and slipped from her seat. As she stood, she happened to glance at the crowd. And caught Justin's concerned gaze upon her. He knew her too well. He'd marked that something was amiss. A question gleamed in his eyes, and she gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded slightly, but a promise remained in his gaze. If she had need of him, she had but to ask.

Her mother's agitation was such that Raina did not ask what was wrong, but merely followed, worried, to her mother's office. Charlotte held the door and Raina stepped past her into the chamber.

Raina ought not have been surprised that the Mages of Alchizzadon were behind her mother's disquiet, not to mention the untimely interruption of her birthday feast. She studied the men closely, not bothering to disguise her interest. Both were tall, the older one thick and powerful under his cloak. The younger one was leaner, enveloped in restless energy.

Her mother closed the door, then sat down stiffly behind her desk. This was to be a formal meeting, then. Her mother gestured her to a chair by the corner of the desk, and she perched on the edge of it obediently.

Raina glanced sidelong at the mages and then looked again. From this angle, with the lamplight striking him just so, faint tattoos had become visible all over the older man's face. The slashing lines and curlicues were reminiscent of the runes upon his cloak and had the effect of obscuring his face until all she really noticed was his eyes. They were black and penetrating, with power that stripped a spirit bare.

The older man's gaze thankfully slid away from hers and locked with Charlotte's. They traded a long, intense look that Raina could not make heads or tails of. There was most certainly a history between the two of them, but she could not fathom its nature.

The younger man had a single runic mark on his neck, climbing the left side of his jaw. If she looked at him straight on, it was barely noticeable. He was handsome in a bland sort of way. In a crowd, her gaze would slide off of him without ever really lighting upon him. Although self-disciplined, he betrayed faint discomfort in the hunch of his shoulders. He met her gaze for the briefest moment. And in that instant she could swear she glimpsed pity.

Pity? Normally, she was acutely aware of and able to interpret the unspoken currents flowing through situations like this, but for once she was confounded.

“It is time,” Kadir finally broke the silence by announcing.

Charlotte's mouth compressed into a thin, white line of displeasure. Raina's anxiety momentarily gave way to amusement at seeing her mother so discomfited.

“Give us a moment alone, if you please, gentlemen.”

Without comment, both men stood and moved to the door. “We shall be directly outside,” Kadir murmured gently. That almost sounded like words of support from him. Her mother's gaze softened for an instant at his turned back.

The door closed behind the two men, and in a moment a magical glow became visible between the wooden panels and the floor.
A wizard's lock?
The mages had locked her in here with her mother?

What in the world was afoot? Raina turned to Charlotte expectantly and was stunned to see the woman at an apparent loss for words. “What in stars' name is going on, Mother?”

“Perhaps I should have told you from the beginning that this day would come. But it seemed kinder to let you have your childhood in innocence.”

The same dread that had overtaken her earlier when the mages arrived crept along Raina's spine once more, running its cold fingers insidiously up the back of her neck.

“As you know, our family has a long history of holding these lands. Since the time of a great king: a human named Hadrian who was also a great mage.”

Raina blinked. The Kothites had always ruled Urth. This Hadrian must have been a king within the Kothite Empire, then. But here? In Haelos? A legend, then.

“… and this man chose for himself a bride. A daughter of the House of Tyrel by the name of Arianna.”

The dread fingers slid around her neck to clutch at Raina's throat. Her sister was named Arianna. The firstborn daughter of the house was always named Arianna. Tradition had it that, to every generation of the family, the first two children born were always girls. No one seemed to know why it was so. But so it incontrovertibly was. Maybe not entirely legend, this tale of her mother's.

Her mother continued, “The story has been handed down through the Mages of Alchizzadon since the time of its occurrence that, on their wedding day, a great attack happened. Hadrian took up sword and wand to defend his lands. He vanquished his foe, but at great personal cost. He called upon more magic than his body could withstand and burned himself out entirely. He would have died had not his court mages rushed in to stabilize his body and trap a small piece of his spirit within it. But without a massive infusion of great magic, his … husk … could not be revived. He has lain in stasis, neither alive nor dead, ever since, awaiting the day when the descendants of his court mages find a means of gathering enough of the raw, unchanneled magics of a bygone age to infuse them into his remains and revive him.”

In spite of herself, Raina's mind raced, reviewing her training in the healing arts. A spirit balanced forever on the sword's edge between life and death was not natural. Spirits fell into one realm or the other, but they did not hover endlessly between the two. Such a state, defying the laws of life and death, would have to be caused by powerful ritual magic of some kind not to have worn off eventually. Surely high-magic cures had been tried to restore this king.

Charlotte was speaking again. “Time passed. Generations came and went. Yet, the Great Mage—as he became called—slept on. Meanwhile, the House of Tyrel waited.”

How could a story like that have survived so long? Frankly, it sounded like an overblown hearth tale to Raina. She asked skeptically, “And you are certain these mages speak truth with this tale of theirs?”

Charlotte nodded firmly. “They have hidden and guarded the story from the Empire with great care. I am confident they speak the truth as they know it.”

“Mayhap they use it to gain favors and gold from us,” Raina retorted.