King's Blades 03 - Sky of Swords Read online

to you all. I am heartsick at the losses. It

  may not be so bad, if we get them to an

  octogram right away."

  Audley said, "They all knew the risks.

  They all came freely, unbound."

  "How did you do it? I know Dog had a

  conjured cloak." Why had they sent Dog into the

  worst danger?

  They were huddled around her, anonymous shapes in

  the dark, about a dozen of them. Some of the names she'd

  already heard were of much older men than Audley,

  yet he still seemed to be Leader.

  "We knew we couldn't do it without spiritual

  help," he said. "Lothaire ... you remember

  Master of Rituals? He'd gone back to the

  College. We got his help, and Sir

  Jongleur's. You may not know him ... older

  knight, senior conjurer--"

  "Yes, I know him." A pompous

  graybeard, and she had left him on his knees in

  the mud.

  "Well," Audley said, "between them they

  provided us with all sorts of gadgets, mostly

  inquisitors' tricks, like that light and the cloak.

  Trouble with the cloaks is that they're pissy hard

  to use. Most people never get the hang of them. Dog

  did it first try."

  "Why?" Why must chance be so cruel? Why

  Dog of all of them? Why couldn't she think?

  Her mind was a tub of slop.

  "It needs a special sort of courage,

  Your Grace," Jongleur said. "The cloaks

  require total concentration, so any hint of fear

  in the wearers disables them. Sir Dog didn't

  seem to fear anything. We had him walk right in the

  Bastion gate and out again in broad daylight and the

  guards never batted a lash."

  "Explains a lot," someone murmured.

  She would never forget him on the anvil,

  calmly waiting for her to put Sword through his

  heart. Even their first kiss had taken courage

  after what had happened to Eagle. "Tell me about

  Chivial. I know absolutely nothing since I

  was put in that cell. Neville took the throne--

  I know that much, but that's all."

  "Winter?"

  "Smaile put him on it," Winter said.

  "Lord Smaile, the former Lambskin, who was your

  Grand Inquisitor. Suddenly Courtney was

  dead, Smaile locked you up for murdering him, and

  Neville was the only candidate left.

  Lambskin put Neville on the throne;

  Neville made Lambskin an earl and

  chancellor, and now he's running everything."

  "Is he doing a good job?"

  "No!" voices shouted.

  Audley said. "There's a lot of unrest,

  Your Grace. They deal with it roughly--

  bloodshed, torture, mock trials,

  executions. Lot of peers are in the Bastion and

  others have fled overseas. Of course, you're the

  rightful queen, so nobody could do much while they had

  you in their clutches, but Blades are being hunted

  down--Snake, Grand Master, Felix. ...

  Half of Parliament seems to have gone into hiding."

  She recalled how easily

  Lambskin-Smaile had cowed the commissioners at

  her trial. "Has Eurania acknowledged

  Neville?"

  The boat was into the Pool, now, where the

  oceangoing ships anchored. The helmsman changed

  course through the swaying forest of rigging; spray

  whipped over the boat. Lights twinkled and

  flickered.

  "Some countries have. Isilond, for one. Some

  are still considering. Baelmark ... They did end the

  Baelish War, but that was the new king in

  Baelmark, mostly. Now you're safe, we

  expect people to start declaring for you."

  Civil war? There had to be a better way out

  of this. She thought she knew what it was. Whether

  she could persuade anyone to try it was another

  matter altogether.

  "Where are we going?"

  "To a ship. Thergian. Seahorse. You have a

  friend."

  Even from the lowly aspect of the approaching

  fishing boat, Seahorse did not seem much of a

  step up. Winter said, "In Thergy they call this

  a staten jacht, Your Grace, a sort of

  dispatch boat. Also used by important people in a

  hurry." It was single-masted and sat low enough in the

  water to be boarded without the need for unpleasant

  rope ladders. A sailor on board dropped a

  set of steps, and Audley handed the Queen up

  to the deck in her regalia of two very smelly

  blankets.

  A man bowed to her. "Welcome aboard

  Seahorse, Your Majesty. You do us honor."

  "I am infinitely more pleased to be aboard

  than you can possibly be to welcome me."

  "Sir Audley? You were not followed. I

  hope?"

  "Not that we could tell," Audley said

  warily. "This is Sir Wasp, Your Grace."

  "I should prefer to sail at once, if that be

  possible," Malinda said.

  The Blades at her back were passing up the

  bodies. The crew was a vague group of shapes

  in the background, watching and waiting to see what

  decision was reached.

  "Your Majesty will understand," Wasp said, "that

  navigating a winding river like the Gran at night

  in a half gale without a local pilot would be a

  somewhat desperate endeavor. We are showing no

  lights and you left no footsteps. Here, in a

  crowded anchorage, we should be safe from

  detection."

  "No," she said, nettled. Did he think she

  was some halfwit female scared without reason?

  "The Dark Chamber has a conjuration called a

  sniffer. I have slept for the last six months on

  the same straw mattress. It should bear enough

  imprint of me for spirits to track me down."

  "Your pardon, my lady. I was not aware

  ..." He spoke in a tongue she supposed was

  Thergian and one of the sailors replied at

  length. "Captain Klerk says we can ride the

  tide and carry only enough canvas to maintain steering

  way, but we still risk running aground, and then we

  shall be in the pillory when the sun rises."

  And then there would be more deaths. Too confused

  to make the decision, she said, "Leader?"

  desperately.

  Audley said, "I think the Usurper will go

  to any lengths to recapture Her Grace. We

  must get our injured to an elementary soon and

  nowhere near here will be safe. Weigh anchor, if

  you please, Sir Wasp."

  The man sighed and spoke again to the captain.

  Malinda said, "You are still Leader, Sir

  Audley? This does you great honor."

  "Indeed it does, my lady, but they are

  loyal to your cause, not to me. We are

  pitifully few now, the last of the Blades. We

  call ourselves the Queen's Men."

  Wasp said, "This way, if it please Your

  Majesty ..." He led the way aft--only a

  few paces--then rapped on a door. After a

  moment it opened and he stood aside to let her

  enter.

  She stepped into darkness with Wasp and Audley

  at her heels. After the door closed someon
e

  unshuttered a lantern, then another and

  another. She screwed up her eyes against the

  golden glory. The cabin was no larger than her

  cell in the Bastion, yet it must occupy the rear

  third of the ship. After the night outside it seemed

  numbingly warm and bright with soft rugs, gleaming

  brass, fine paintings on the walls, furnishings

  of bright leather and polished wood. The benches would

  make into bunks; they concealed chests and

  cupboards. Important people were rich people, of

  course, and this was real luxury, all the more

  imposing after half a year in a stone box.

  Clearly the whole purpose of Seahorse was

  to move this cabin and its occupants wherever they

  wished to go. So into this sumptuous place came a

  deposed queen wrapped in bloodstained rags and

  stinking blankets, with her hair in rattails and a

  reek of wine on her breath.

  The woman curtseying to her was Chancellor

  Burningstar in robes of sapphire blue. She

  rose with fury in her eyes and surged forward

  to clasp the visitor in a very informal embrace.

  "How dare they! Come and sit here, Your

  Grace. How dare they treat you so? I am

  overjoyed to see you free again. You are

  hurt?"

  Malinda shook her head. Feeling dizzy,

  she sank gratefully on the bench and huddled herself

  in her blankets. Voices shouted outside in a

  language not Chivian, feet pounded on the

  ceiling, the anchor chain clanked.

  "Then whose blood is that?"

  "Sir Dog's," Audley said. "We also

  lost Reynard, Bullwhip, probably

  Victor. Lothaire took a bad one. A

  couple of others hurt a bit, but the rest of us

  came back still breathing. I won our bet, Your

  Excellency."

  "You think I care about losing?" the old lady

  snapped. "I never thought they'd get Your

  Majesty out at all. Wine, Your Grace?

  Food?"

  Malinda shivered. "Not wine." She hoped that

  they were taking proper care of Dog.

  "Wash that blood off? Clothes? We have some

  garments, better at least than those."

  "Not yet. Soon."

  "Then what? Sir Wasp can produce any

  miracle you want on this boat of his."

  "Ship!" he said sharply. He was around

  thirty, with lines starting to show in his

  face. Short and trim, he had the rapier look

  of a Blade, yet he did not wear a sword.

  What he was wearing was obviously worth a tidy

  sum, and she would not have expected any man less

  than a duke to own a vessel like this. Just the

  emerald at his throat would buy a coach and four.

  "Ship then."

  "If you can manage some hot soup," Malinda

  said, "I will believe in miracles."

  "That one's easy." He blew into a speaking

  tube, listened for acknowledgment. "A jug of hot

  soup right away." He replaced the tube on its

  hook.

  "Majesty," Burningstar said, "may I have the

  honor of presenting Sir Wasp? He owns this

  floating palace. He claims to be Your

  Grace's loyal servant and I can detect no

  falsehood in him."

  "I am greatly in your debt, Sir Wasp."

  He bowed low. "Nay, Your Majesty, I

  owe you great redress, whatever I can ever do

  to make amends." He took a quick step to catch

  his balance as the ship heeled.

  "Please be seated, all of you," she said.

  "Sir Wasp, you are a Blade?" Why would a

  Blade have trouble with balance?

  All three of them settled on the bench

  opposite her.

  "I was, Your Grace. I would still be a

  companion in good standing if the Order had not been

  dissolved." He shot a smile at Audley.

  "I am honored to be included in the Queen's

  Men."

  "I am grateful to them all. Where will you take

  me?"

  "Drachveld, by your leave. Queen Regent

  Martha promises Your Grace asylum with

  full royal honors. You can be Queen in

  Exile while your supporters prepare to wrest

  your crown from the Usurper."

  Again the awful prospect of civil war

  loomed. No, she would not go to Thergy. The answer

  lay at Ironhall. Could she hope to convince

  them of the truth she had worked out over the long dark

  months? Would she even have the courage to face it

  herself if Dog were here with her now? And who was this

  cryptic ex-Blade who wallowed in such wealth?

  "Who was your ward, Sir Wasp?"

  "Radgar Aeleding, Your Grace."

  They all watched for her reaction.

  "Sir Piers told me that my father had not

  only allowed the Baelish heir to slip out of his

  fingers but also had deeded him a Blade. It was

  fear of ridicule, I am sure, that made him

  insist on keeping the matter so secret." Even

  male monarchs could make mistakes. She

  glanced around her other companions, especially

  looking at Burningstar, who claimed to find no

  untruth in the man, but who still seemed unworried.

  "You know it was my signature that bereft you of your

  ward, Sir Wasp."

  "Not so, Your Majesty. I was released from my

  binding many years ago, under very unusual

  circumstances, but Radgar and I remained close

  friends. Until a year ago." The ship heeled,

  Wasp shifted position, and Malinda saw that there

  was something wrong with his left arm. He was not using

  it, and that doubtless explained the awkwardness she had

  noted earlier.

  "Two years ago, my lady, when I was

  Baelmark's consul general in Drachveld, Lord

  Roland came calling with a proposal to end the war

  by a marriage between you and King Radgar. I took

  that proposal to Baelmark and talked Radgar

  into it. I thought I had talked him into it. When the

  day came, you know what he did." Wasp sighed.

  "Believe me, Your Grace, I was appalled!

  I had no inkling that this was what he intended. I

  would almost swear he did not know it himself. Even the

  earls and thegns were horrified at the breach of

  faith, and it takes a lot to scandalize

  Baels. For the first time in his long reign, his

  hold on the throne was put in doubt. If it

  please you, you may suppose that his treachery

  destroyed him, for I strongly suspect that his

  attack on Lomouth was betrayed."

  "I am certain of it. Someone provided my

  cousin with money and information. The quarry was not I,

  but Radgar."

  Wasp nodded grimly, accepting that theory.

  "I had always known he could be a hard man,

  brutal if necessary, but in all the years of our

  friendship I had never appreciated the depth of his

  bitterness against your father, whom he blamed for his own

  father's murder. You know the story, I am sure,

  so I need not tell it again. He was obsessed by that

  foul act. Yet one treason does not justify

  another. I broke with him
over it, Your

  Grace. I took my wife and children and walked out

  of my fine house in Drachveld and went

  to serve another master. I told Radgar to--"

  "What other master?"

  A flicker of a smile lightened Wasp's

  somber mood. "The King of Thergy. We had a

  longstanding rivalry to see who could drink whom under

  the table. He usually won. I lost two royal

  friends in short order last year." Another sigh,

  a shrug. "So my sacrifice was not as

  dramatic as I made it sound. And Radgar

  never gave in easily. He sent me the deeds

  to the house and its contents, the papers of this ship,

  everything. I sent them all back to him. He sent

  them back to me. And so on. When he died, they were

  in my hands, so chance decreed that I kept the

  ill-gotten gains of my friendship. When I heard

  of your misfortune, I resolved to see what I

  could do to make amends, because much of the blame rests

  on my shoulders. I misjudged Radgar."

  Malinda sat for a while, struggling to think her

  way through a thicket of weariness and sorrow and

  confusion. Likely she would trust this Wasp even

  without Burningstar's endorsement. He had an air

  of competence and frankness, of simplicity even, and

  yet there were depths to him. No lightweight,

  certainly, this friend of kings.

  "You admit you were Radgar's friend, yet I

  cut off his head."

  The former swordsman met her gaze steadily.

  "Should I seek revenge for that, Your Grace?

  From what I heard I had rather be grateful to you for

  ending his suffering. If I did want vengeance,

  would I not leave you where you were an hour ago?"

  She nodded dumbly. "Then I gladly

  accept you as one of the Queen's Men and I am

  grateful to you for your service this night, as I am

  grateful to the others. But I will not go

  to Drachveld, much as I appreciate the Queen

  Regent's kindness in her own sorrows."

  The other three exchanged worried glances,

  perhaps wondering what her captivity might have done

  to her thinking. They would have much more to worry about

  soon.

  "Then where would you have us go, my lady?"

  Audley demanded.

  Not yet. She must be certain. "First let me

  speak with Sir Winter and Sir Jongleur."

  The lanterns had to be shuttered before the door

  could be opened, and it was several minutes before the

  cabin was bright again. By then the others had

  arrived and Malinda was sipping a mug of meaty

  soup, which seemed to boil all the way down her

  throat and burn through every vein. Sir Wasp had a