Two Queens (Seven Heavens Book 1) (30 page)

He had a full life, he thought, and if tomorrow was the day the final thread was woven into it, so be it. In the end, what more had he wished for? A home? He had the best of homes. To fulfill his mother's dying wish? He would see the Queen tomorrow. A wife? What man did not dream of this? Adara was his sister by blood; Enda, by situation. He had met no one else. Too much of his mother's love for his father was shown him to imagine mere matrimony would fulfill this dream.

He loved his father, but what drew his mother to him first? She had known the best of the land, refused marriage to the prince of another city! She would have been Queen but for that choice, choosing rather his father, despising of the Curse. Orion would never understand that. She would have made a great Queen.

This would be his last adventure, to meet the Queen his mother mentioned. He would see who she was, whether she was worthy of being known by his mother, and in the end, it wouldn't matter. His mother was his mother. He would say her last words, give the Ring to the Queen, and that would be it.

Except she already had the Ring, indirectly at least. No, he should still do it. He'd seen enough of the world to know that having and possessing are two very different things. It would be his gift, her gift, to her. And then the end.

Such thoughts were on Orion's mind when a trumpet sounded. The guards stirred and the prison door was opened. As they marched outside through high double doors Orion saw a great building with red and black banners flying. A large old tree with a few red apples on its boughs stood humbly to one side as the stomp of soldier's boots echoed upon the stone steps.

Orion took one last look east. He thought he could see the blue of mountains but it was hard to tell, for dawn had broken forth, and all the splendor of the sun shone down on the palace of Avallonë.

“Bring forth the prisoner.”

A solider prodded Orion forward. A long hall opened up before him, several score spear men standing at arms in two columns, facing inwards. He walked down the tile floor slowly. His shoes made no sound.

He heard here and there a sharp intake of breath. Other than that, nothing. He saw hordes of people in bright colors standing behind the spear men. Every so often one caught his eye and started back as if affronted or curled his lip in ill will.

He stopped looking around. Before him steps led up to the dais on which he saw the throne. He had been wrong about the Judge's seat at the Court of Law: it was a mere copy. Here in the Royal Court was the throne itself.

He looked down at the silver bracelets binding his hands. He was almost glad of them, feeling that they taught his hands how to behave and, strangely enough, protected him from the rush of the mob.

For mob it was. A quarter of his way in a man cried “Traitor!” and the sound had rippled outward in growing cascade of voices. He almost could feel that, but for the silver, the armed sentinels, and the impregnable stonework of the palace itself they would rush him to ensure their was no miscarriage of justice.

He kept walking. He looked down. In front of him the black tile paused. The white tile of a huge white horse with silver spire replaced the black. The eyes of black agate arrested his eye. Was this the spire which Astra had forsworn? He did not wish to tread on the unicorn but felt he could not but otherwise: to deviate from his path down the middle seemed unthinkable.

He trod on the unicorn, one step after another. He hoped it knew he meant no disrespect.

“Halt!” The unicorn a few paces behind him, the base of the steps several more in front, he stopped and stood.

“The prisoner.” The crowd behind Orion booed and hissed. “Silence! Silence!” Slowly they quieted down.

“The accuser?”

“Here, my lord.” Orion felt rather than saw Paris step forward at his right. He was glad for the space between them.

“The accuser. The judge?”

“Here, my lord.”

“The judge. I Tycho, Marshall of Avallonë, do hereby swear, by the Mane of the Unicorn, to uphold my office as Marshall for the service of the Queen and City, and carry out the duties pertaining thereto.”

Orion waited for what would happen next. Nothing did, for a time. He stood there and stayed looking at the steps and the throne. Once his eyes strayed over to the right. On the last step before the dais the Marshall stood.

He was girt in a plain black robe that fell just past his knees. His arms to the shoulder and his legs were bare, his feet ensconced in leather sandals. His black hair was short and curly and his full beard cropped close. To the left, between him and the throne, was a stand on which lay a sword. A chain was loosely wrapped in eights around the handle, hilt, and blade. The sword looked like burnished silver with an intricate web of red running throughout. The chain was black as night.

“Her Majesty, Heaven-blessed Sophia, Queen of Avallonë, Mistress of Arcadia, Daughter of Artemis.”

The queen entered from a door on the left and ascended the steps. Her gown was full and raven black with a red sash rounding her breast and slashing down the skirt like a river of blood. Orion's eyes rode up the river and found its end, or rather beginning, in her full red lips. Dark eyes kept watch above.

Her hair, dark as the sable cloth of her dress, was braided into a coil that sat easily on her head. It wove in and out of a silver lattice above that shimmered with crystals. In front the threads of silver met in a wreath that held a flaming ruby the shape of an apple seed.

The queen traversed the dais and turned to face the Court. With a rippling of the folds in her gown she sat, stock still for a moment. Then Orion saw, or thought he saw, the slightest turn of her head to the left.

He watched her face closely. She as yet had not looked at him. He found it hard to look at her. Not scary, just hard to see the woman within her accoutrements. The crown and dress was just the beginning: her dress flowed into the chair, which cascaded down the steps to where Orion stood like a waterfall into a secluded pool. Her crown pointed upward to the tree behind, a huge sculpture that twisted and spread out to uphold half the roof.

It would not be far wrong to say she
was
Avallonë, Orion thought.

The Marshall took hold of the sword and, with jangling chain, rested the blade on his shoulder. “The Queen's justice is at work. It will not rest until the sword, chain, or key has carried it out.” Orion noticed a silver key linked to the middle of the chain. He wondered which implement would enforce the decision in his case.

Those who had chairs sat. In the front only the Marshall and Orion and the twin rows of spearmen still stood. Orion saw a noble rise and walk towards him. He didn't recognize him until he had turned to face the queen and began speaking.

It was the Judge Honorable from the day before. He recounted what had been determined so far, finishing “and then, Your Majesty, because I had immediately recognized the illustrious, invaluable, tragically lost, but lost no longer, illustrious Ring of Artemis,” his voice said the name with a harsh whisper, paying no mind to the snickers that had followed his second “illustrious,” “so, following the rules and customs of Avallonë—to the letter, your Majesty—which long study has made me so familiar with, I arranged for this act of horror, this...” he paused, seeming to grope for something, “treasonous,” he trilled the r until it echoed “act of basest criminality.” The Judge Honorable stood blinking up at the Queen.

She nodded slightly. He bowed deeply, “It is my pleasure to serve,” and stayed bent over. Orion wondered why he didn't stand up again.

The Judge Honorable's legs quivered after a second.

The Marshall spoke. “Now for the accuser to have his say, taking note of the Crown's questions.”

The Judge Honorable bobbed back up, face purple, and sidestepped back to his chair, dipping into a half-bow at each step.

Paris strode forth and, with a flick of his shoulder, swung his cape about behind him, left palm resting on a jeweled sword. He listened to the Marshall's questions: “What is the accuser's full history with the accused, in general? What relation caused the accuser to offer his house as a guest, in specific? And what were the events of the night before yestereve that he witnessed, also in specific?”

Paris spoke for what seemed like an hour. He told of his practice of wandering about in the guise of a merchant, used to discreetly seek out valuable information and to test the loyalties of his servants for the better service of his City and his estate. He mentioned that earlier this same year, in one of his further travels, aye even to the eastern mountains—the room became still with this—he came across a boy of strange mien.

“You look at him now and see nothing, nothing irregular in his look, perhaps? But that would not be the case were you to have lived days, weeks even in the lands of the fair-haired, fair-skinned savages of the eastern slopes. There he appears like an apple among potatoes, or a nut among stalks of wheat. I was drawn to him, and noted him closely. But he purchased none of my proffered wares so I had no long dialogue with him.”

“After many months of hard labor, traveling here and there, for I did not hesitate to see after the estates of my friends while I was so disposed, I at length made to return to my home city of Kyriopolis. Receiving at your hands,” he bowed to the Queen, “so fair a welcome I did not advance farther. I had all but forgotten the boy.

“Early in this week, I passed through the market when I chanced upon this very one. I hurt to see him so bound,” he wiped a tear from his eye, “for they are savage and proud in the east, and love their freedom above all things. I know the fair-haired had not treated me well in my visit, with a grievous lack of hospitality, another matter, Your Majesty, which refreshes me to no end to see the contrary sort of hospitality shown to me here, though I have no status here, being as foreign as the boy-” at this many in the crowd moaned audibly as if in denial, which Paris acknowledged slightly, “but I could not let that stop me from teaching him how the civilized among us treats those around us.”

Orion heard or felt a rush. He did not know what caused the sound. What he knew was that Paris had the crowd in the crook of his elbow and they would walk wherever he led.

“I purchased him and tried to explain to him that he would be a slave no more. That he was free! He seemed confused. I offered him my roof, my table, my horse, anything that could make his life more palatable. I thought him a very pitiable sort, thinking he did not joyfully revel in my good gifts due to fear or ignorance. He seemed discomfited by my generosity but I refused to let any discomfort deter me from the good I was to do for him.

“Alas, but I was wrong. His hesitance was no ignorant disbelief but a premeditated act well-executed. You may not know him as well as I but you may find that no small measure of cunning lies within him. When he speaks you will wish to doubt me, for he can twist tales to suit his own devices,” again the crowd groaned, “but I do not fear that you will in the end see the truth, as I too have slowly come to learn.

“As many of our most auspicious guests know, I have the rents of the rooms formerly of the house of Greer. As they will know better than me, it was a member of this house that, to the knowledge of the Court, last held the Ring of Artemis. What tragedy that they thought by holding it the claim of the Crown and City upon it was diminished! In the end what was chosen gave no service to Avallonë and one of her greatest treasures, I speak excepting many souls here present, was lost. Perhaps never to be found.

“My guest was taken to these rooms and freely. I had no qualms, trusting his honor implicitly. One may imagine my feelings of hurt and betrayal when my steward informed me that the one on whom I had chosen to bestow my favor had fled into the night and, what is more, left one of the rooms in grave disarray. But even then, I thought, how confusing must life in a great city be to one who has known nothing! I sent men after him, only staying at the House of Greer that I might the more quickly welcome him back and restore his equanimity.

“It is fortunate that guards of the Palace found him first. I fear my new affection for the foreigner would still have blinded my eyes. I pushed my urgent business of yesterday aside and waited at the court, hoping my meager influence and small means might, in a City already so noble, calm the last concerns of our Honorable Judge as to whether he should fear a recurrence of the same. For many a boy might be saved, would there but be someone there to stand up for him when his baser feelings are at full tide.”

Orion didn't understand this last expression. In truth his understanding had lessened the more Paris talked. He seethed.

“So there I stood in Court yesterday. Many others better qualified know the rest, how the unblinking justice of Avallonë could not fail to find out that, through knowledge unattainable by natural means, this boy had divined the secret hoard of the House of Greer. But for the ever ready vigilance of the City's servants, he would have through my fumbling fingers taken its greatest treasure.” He bowed and strode back to his seat amid thunderous applause.

Orion felt fear grip him. He no longer wondered which of the key, chain, or sword would be his lot. He stood frozen, not able to look at the crowd or at Paris. His eyes timidly went from the Queen's gown to the Marshall's sandals, daring not to meet the eyes above them.

“And now for the accused.” Loud booing erupted and the Marshall's next words were drowned out. A chant of “Treason! Treason!” broke out.

Orion looked at the Queen. She sat with less expression than the woodwork behind her.

The Marshall raised the sword in his hands. Silence fell. Orion cowered, wondering if he would be slain on the spot. The Marshall lowered the sword to its resting place.

“If there is not order, the Court will be emptied. And now, for the accused. What does he say to the accuser, in general? Who is he and of what family, in specific? And how came he to be bearing the Ring, in specific?”