Book 4: Chapter Twelve

The clouds broke the next day before the ship made port. The Peregrine’s crew had jury-rigged a temporary replacement for the upper mainmast, using a spare yardarm to reinforce the section of the mast that hadn’t fallen overboard, and they’d made good time on the last leg of their journey.

The sun was shining while the group disembarked and made plans. The others went to find an inn with enough room for everyone, but Treya’s first stop was at the Three Orders chapter house.

“Mother Ola?” she said, peering into the old woman’s office.

Ola’s face lit up with a wide smile. “Treya!” she said, standing up from the desk to hug her and welcome her in. “I got used to you stopping by more often. We’ve missed you here.”

Treya managed to hide her surprise. She and Mother Ola had never been particularly close—Ola had been unhappy with Treya’s decision to join the Order of Mystics, and Treya had unfairly blamed the woman for bringing her from Four Roads to Tyrsall.

“I’m happy to be back,” she said.

“How was your trip to Cordaea?”

“We found Tir Yadar.”

“Is that the place you were searching for? The lost city?” Mother Ola had come from the Order of Scholars, but even amongst scholars, the ancient Tirs weren’t a common subject of study. And, in truth, the scholars in the Three Orders were mostly teachers rather than historians.

“Yes,” Treya said. “We found what we were looking for. An entire city inside a mountain, like the dwarves build. It wasn’t even in ruins—most of it was intact. We earned some coin on the trip; I’ll be able to make a donation to the Orders before I leave.”

“That’s always appreciated,” Mother Ola said. “We have more girls to take care of than ever, and the king has asked us to set up a school for orphaned boys who are too young to be taken in as apprentices. He and the duke have both offered funding, but you know how that goes. It always costs more than you think it will. But you said you’re leaving? How long are you here for?”

“At least a few days, maybe more, but then we’re heading to Four Roads.” Treya quickly explained their plan to draw out Rusol’s forces without endangering another village.

“I see,” Ola said. “I’ve sent messages to Mother Idra at Highfell, but I may have been too circumspect with my questions. She hasn’t noticed anything wrong, and I didn’t want to risk mentioning King Marten’s concubine in case Idra passed along my concerns. I wrote to the concubine myself—her name is Sharra—but it was just a simple greeting. I’ve corresponded with her before, but it’s been years, so I wished her well and asked her how things were going. She replied, but her letter was as uninformative as my own.”

“Thank you for trying,” Treya said. “I’ll let Corec know. Has Shana returned yet?”

“Not to Tyrsall, but I was able to get a message to her. She’d taken a job in Chondor—something about recovering stolen jewels. Then she spent some time at her old chapter house in Abildgard. She’s on her way to Highfell now to see if she can get any more information out of Idra.”

“I don’t know if that’s necessary,” Treya said. “I didn’t mean for you to go to so much trouble.” Highfell was a long way from Abildgard.

“Well, with you in Cordaea, I told her it wasn’t urgent. I’m sure she’ll take other jobs along the way, as she always does. I don’t have any way to get a message to her now unless she stops somewhere in Matagor or Larso for a while and sends a pigeon. She’s already passed through South Corner, and there isn’t another chapter house until she reaches Highfell. The Matagor chapter house has been delayed again—they have their own concubine schools there, and their own orphanage system, so they’re trying to keep us out.”

Treya nodded. Shana had gone most of the way already, so it didn’t make sense to try to find her and stop her. And perhaps she’d learn something in Highfell.

Ola suddenly held up a finger. “Oh, I believe we have some letters for you,” she said, going over to a wall of shelves labeled with rows of names of various Sisters who received their correspondence at the chapter house. “Yes, something from Enna, and then four letters for your Corec of House Tarwen, but addressed to you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Have you become a concubine without telling me? I see you’ve got some new jewelry.”

Treya felt herself blush. “He’s just a friend, but he needed somewhere to receive letters here in Tyrsall. We found the bracelets in Tir Yadar.” The silver cuffs were too plain to be a gift from an admirer, but they were the first jewelry Treya had ever worn in her life, so it wasn’t a surprise Ola would notice.

And maybe there was something to learn from the woman’s hints. It could be worthwhile to forge a link between Corec and the Three Orders. He liked to pretend he was still just a caravan guard, but being a warden had changed him—had changed them all—even if he didn’t want to admit it. On top of that, he was a trained knight, as well as the son of a baron and a Three Orders concubine. Yelena and Hildra both held positions of influence, informal as they might be. It was reasonable to assume that Corec might one day as well, if he ever cared to. If he allied himself with the Three Orders, it could help him navigate future difficulties, and hopefully prevent any other issues such as the one with Prince Rusol.

Judging by the seals, three of Corec’s letters—each addressed in a different hand—were from his family. The fourth letter was addressed more plainly, and just to Corec, without any house name. The wax holding it closed didn’t have an imprint of an official seal.

“I’ll take these to him, then come back,” Treya said. “I want to catch up with Kelis and Nina before supper.”

“You’ll be needing a room then? I’m afraid it’ll have to be one of the guest rooms this time. When we didn’t see you for so long, I finally reassigned your room to two of the older students.”

Treya had enough coin now that she could easily afford to stay at an inn, but it would be strange to come to Tyrsall and not stay at the chapter house. “I’d like to stay here, if I could.”

Ola smiled. “Of course you can. This is your home.”

#

Corec had worried Dot wouldn’t remember him, but it was clear his fears were unfounded. It was equally clear the horse wasn’t going to forgive him anytime soon for leaving her behind for so long. She’d refused to follow when he’d tried to lead her, and only Shavala’s intervention had convinced her to come along.

After helping the others get the animals situated, Corec and Katrin went for a stroll around the inner city to stretch their legs after being cooped up on the ship for so long. They ended their walk at a teahouse just across from the inn.

“Are you going to sing tonight?” he asked after the tea had been poured.

Katrin hadn’t played her music much toward the end of their time in Cordaea, since the only people who could understand the words to her songs were the ones who’d come along with them on the expedition, and they’d all heard each one dozens of times over.

She sighed. “I don’t know. It seems silly to sing for coppers when we have gold coming soon. I know the gold won’t last forever, but I’m not sure it’s worth just playing in inns and taverns. And it’s not like I can spend all day busking the way Anise does, not while we’re traveling.”

“Do you want to sing? Ignoring the money, would you play tonight if you could?”

She looked thoughtful. “It would be good to play for real again, but not at the Fin and Blade. I don’t like the common room there. Besides, I need to get back into practice first. I think I’ll work on that while we’re here.”

Before Corec could respond, Treya came in the door and headed for their table. “Leena said I could find you here,” she said. “I spoke to Mother Ola about Prince Rusol, and these came to the chapter house while we were away.” She handed over a stack of letters. “I think some of them are from your family.”

Corec nodded, recognizing the seal and the handwriting on three of them. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing, really. Mother Ola wrote to the Highfell chapter house and to the prince’s mother, but she didn’t learn anything new.”

“His mother?”

“She was careful about what she said.”

“Will you pass along my thanks?”

“Of course,” Treya said.

Katrin convinced her to join them while Corec opened the letter he didn’t recognize. It proved to be from Mama Wenna at the boarding house in Four Roads, telling him she’d received the payment he’d sent for his room. He’d done that before sailing to Cordaea, though, and he hadn’t realized how long they’d be gone. He hadn’t sent enough. But, he supposed, even if Mama Wenna had rented the room out to someone else, she would have saved his things. He’d just have to make things right with her when he saw her again.

The proprietor of the shop returned to pour a cup of hot tea for Treya, then left the three of them alone again.

Corec glanced down at the other letters with a sigh. “I suppose I should see what my father has to say.” He broke the wax seal and opened the page.

Son,

I don’t know when this letter will find its way to you, since you said you’d be sailing east. Your questions, however, have given me some cause for concern.

You ask if there would be any problems if you visit home, yet neglect to mention what sort of problems you might be expecting. As I noted in our previous correspondence, Priest Calwell has been reassigned away from Tarwen Village, so let us hope we can avoid that bit of unpleasantness again. If there is something else you wish to know, you’ll have to be more plain in your speech.

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As for Prince Rusol’s mercenary army, we no longer have hillfolk mercenaries traipsing through our valley on their way to the capital. His Royal Highness has personally assured me that recruiting has come to an end.

Isabel was delighted to hear that you are planning a trip home, but dismayed to learn it will be delayed by the journey you are undertaking to Cordaea. She is eager for your visit.

On to other matters. I was surprised to discover you’d found a concubine in Tyrsall. I trust this means your fortunes have improved. I was worried you’d remain a caravan guard forever. I’ll look forward to hearing of your new endeavors, as well as your visit to foreign shores, whether by letter or in person.

Your father,

Ansel, Baron of Tarwen

Corec set the letter down and rubbed at his temples. “Apparently my family thinks Treya is my concubine. I suppose I should have given them more of an explanation in my last letter.”

Katrin snickered.

“Mother Ola asked me about that too,” Treya said. “She wondered why I was receiving mail for you.”

“Ahh, well, sorry about that. I hope it didn’t cause any problems. Isabel wrote too—my father’s wife. I hope she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.”

He unfolded Isabel’s letter.

Dearest Corec, it began.

He skipped over all the pleasantries and the bits of news about the family and the servants and the village. Isa was prone to writing long letters. Finally, after a paragraph describing an accident with a runaway wagon that had resulted in the loss of two oxen belonging to a family he’d never even heard of before, he found what he was looking for.

I was delighted to hear you’ve taken a concubine—and from the Three Orders, no less! If only Moira was around to see it. I know she would have been so very proud!

Please do bring this Treya of yours with you when you visit so we can all meet her. And you’ll be able to meet Branth’s Marisa as well. She’s a wonderful young woman who’s brought new life to the family, though not in the literal sense just yet. She feels Branth should have an official heir before she gives him a child, yet Branth refuses to consider any potential marriage matches.

I’m truly looking forward to your visit. I’m ashamed to say that when the time comes, Toman will most likely remain at the Tammerly estate to avoid you. I only wish you boys had been able to get over the awkwardness of your younger years, the way you and Branth have. I do have some hope, however, that you and your father might finally be able to make peace with each other.

Will you please consider again giving up that silly magic of yours so you can return home permanently? Whatever could you be up to in the free lands and Tyrsall that’s more important than family?

You are always in my thoughts,

Isabel, Lady Tarwen

“I suppose it was pointless to hope she wouldn’t get excited about it,” Corec said, handing the letter to Katrin. “I’ll have to break it to her gently. If I tell her you and I are getting married, she might forgive me about not having a concubine. I should probably do that in person rather than by letter. After we’ve found a place to settle, I’ll have to make a quick trip home.”

He opened Branth’s letter last. It was short and to the point.

Brother,

Cordaea? Why Cordaea? You’d never get me on a sailing ship. I like solid land beneath my feet.

I suppose Father and Mother have already told you about Marisa, and I know Father has mentioned the dairy farm I’ve started. It’s seen some small success already, though I won’t bore you with the details.

When are you planning to come home? Toman’s turned into a royal arse, and I could use some decent company for a change. Just beware, Mother’s constantly haranguing me about getting married. If she gets you within arrow’s distance, you’ll be on the chopping block as well.

Best of luck, little brother.

Branth Tarwen

Corec chuckled. Branth was the only member of his family who hadn’t grown awkward around him after learning he was a mage. Seeing him might make the visit bearable.

“Should I go with you?” Katrin asked.

“Yes. Maybe you both should, so I can explain the mixup. They’ll want to know who Treya is, and why I was having my mail sent to her.”

Treya said, “Or you could take an actual concubine. Wouldn’t that make them happier?”

Katrin furrowed her brow. “Before we’re married? I think we should wait.”

Corec blinked. That wasn’t the argument he’d expected her to make. “I wasn’t really planning on looking for a concubine anyway,” he said.

Treya shrugged. “You don’t have to look right now. There’s a chapter house in Four Roads.”

Katrin hid a grin behind her teacup.

“I don’t know if I’d need a concubine in Four Roads,” Corec said. He’d never considered the idea before, and he wasn’t sure what Katrin’s reaction meant. Sometimes she joked when she was uncomfortable about something.

“The mayor and most of the rich merchants have concubines,” Treya said. “Four Roads doesn’t have much in the way of high society, but we’ll still need to maintain good relations, especially if we could be attacked at any time. You’re hiring a dozen guardsmen, which will put you in charge of the largest armed force in the area, so we’ll need to stay involved with the city government. Do you remember the drake? If there are local armed guards and mages, they’ll call on us for that sort of thing rather than hiring mercenaries.”

“That’s more complicated than I was thinking,” Corec admitted. “I should have paid more attention to my tutors back home.” It sounded a lot like how Yelena and Hildra interacted with the people around them.

“That’s what a concubine will help you with. She’ll get to know everyone through the other concubines, and keep up the network of correspondence you and I have been talking about.”

“But you were going to do that.”

“We can work together. I’ll keep in touch with people here—like Renny, so you and Ellerie can continue your relationship with the Senshall Trading Company. You might need to work with them again someday.”

Katrin whispered something in Treya’s ear. Treya shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

“We don’t have to decide right away,” Katrin said to Corec. “Treya was already going to do most of those things, so we can talk about it again after we’re married.”

Corec nodded. That would give him time to figure out how Katrin really felt about the idea.

#

Yassi sighed at the image in her scrying orb—rows of ships at port. She couldn’t hold back the information any longer.

She found Rusol in their private sitting room, practicing some sort of odd exercise with his elder magic. He poured water into a ceramic bowl, then concentrated for a moment to heat it until it started to boil. Then he summoned a gust of wind out of nowhere, blowing the hot liquid up out of the bowl in an arc toward the fireplace, but freezing it before it got there. The result was almost like snowing indoors. If it had been anyone else doing it, the sight would have delighted Yassi.

“You wanted to know when the newest warden was back in Aravor,” she said, interrupting him. The warden had been hidden from Yassi’s viewings for weeks, apparently behind wards that blocked Seeing, but he’d been coming steadily west ever since.

“Where is he now?” Rusol asked.

“Tyrsall, I think. A city with a port.”

Rusol nodded. “Let me know if he stops anywhere. I’m not going to waste time sending hunters to chase him all around the globe. I’d rather find another warden who stays in one place. You haven’t had any luck with the stoneborn woman or Emperor Kono?” He’d learned those bits of information from Leonis during their meetings at Northtower.

“It doesn’t work like that,” she reminded him. “I’m not a Seeker. I can’t just See everything I want to see. We were lucky to find two of them so quickly.” Even finding out that Kono was emperor of the seaborn people hadn’t helped. The imperial palace—if it could be called that—wasn’t blocked from Yassi’s view, but she hadn’t been able to find anyone who had the markings of a warden or a bondmate.

Rusol grunted. “At least you had better luck with the new wizards. I heard back from one of them this morning. He’s reluctant to cross the border because of the Church, but he didn’t turn me down completely. I’m going to send another letter doubling my original offer, and promising we won’t do anything to raise the Church’s suspicions.”

Wizards were common in Matagor, and before Rusol had told her she could stop looking, Yassi had found seven of them that hired out their services. It had taken longer for Rusol to decide how to approach them, finally deciding to send letters under a fake identity, a wealthy merchant who lived in Telfort but who was hiring wizards to aid his business ventures in Westport, where magic wasn’t illegal.

Yassi schooled her expression, trying to hold back tears. She’d just doomed another mage to a life of slavery, as either a bondmate or a hunter. It didn’t really matter which—both choices would take away the fellow’s ability to lead his own life as he saw fit.

Before she had to come up with a response, there was a wailing shriek from next door. The royal apartments.

Yassi exchanged a worried glance with Rusol, forgetting in that instant just how much she hated him, and then she followed him as he sprinted for the door.

By the time they reached the hall, the royal guards stationed outside the king’s chambers had already flung the door open and run inside, their weapons drawn. Yassi and Rusol were close behind.

King Marten was sprawled face down across a rug in the center of his sitting room, not moving. A wine glass had fallen next to him, the last few drops spilling out onto the rug. Queen Merice was kneeling over him, still screaming incomprehensibly.

“Find Magnus!” Rusol snapped at one of the guards. The man ran off.

Merice’s shouting turned to sobs. “No no no no no!” she managed to say. “He’s not breathing! Make him breathe!”

Rusol grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “What happened?” he demanded.

“He … he … he said he missed Rikard, so I put some of my medicine in his wine, just like Sharra and Yassi do when I miss him. He’s been away for so long!”

Yassi’s blood went cold.

“Marten!” Sharra exclaimed as she ran into the apartment. She rushed to him and laid her palm over the back of his neck, then whirled on Merice. “I heard you from the hall, you stupid old whore. How much did you give him?”

“Th … th … three drams, like always!” Merice said through her tears.

“You idiot! You killed him!” Sharra advanced on the queen.

“No no no no no!” Merice repeated, scrambling backward.

Rusol stepped between the two of them, holding his mother off from attacking the other woman. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“We have to be careful with the dosage,” Yassi explained. That was what Sharra had always told her. “The queen has been taking the medicine for five years. She needs a lot more now than she did at the beginning. But we never told her that. She only ever sees how much we give her.”

Merice had crouched down, her face in her hands, as she shook her head wildly from side to side.

“She’s a murderer!” Sharra shouted, trying to get around Rusol. “Arrest her!” she told the remaining guardsman.

“No!” Rusol said, taking an unsteady breath. “She was just trying to help.” He looked down at his father. “Yassi, help me turn him over. I’ll try healing him while we wait for Magnus. He should be … Father will be fine.”

What was he talking about? Rusol wasn’t a priest; he couldn’t heal anyone. He’d given her an order, though, and she had to obey. Despite his words, Rusol seemed nervous about touching Marten, but he grasped the king’s shoulders while Yassi held his hip, and together, they managed to turn him over onto his back. And then they saw what Sharra had seen—Marten’s face was tinged with blue, and bloody foam was leaking from the side of his mouth.

Rusol sat down on the floor with a thump. Yassi looked away from the body, finding herself staring at her husband, who seemed unable to pull his gaze away from his father.

Merice peeked at Marten’s body, then hid her face again, sobbing more loudly than before. Sharra glared at the queen, but there were no tears in the concubine’s eyes.

They all stayed in that frozen tableau, waiting for Magnus to arrive, everyone knowing he would be too late and would just confirm what Sharra had said. Yassi’s stomach felt like a bottomless pit. What would happen next? She could see in her mind the priest coming in and telling them what they already knew, but then what?

Someone would have to deal with the body. For the death of a king, there would be rituals to follow. Cardinal Aldrich would know what to do. Would someone remember to tell him?

What would happen to Queen Merice? Or was she Queen Mother Merice now? No, that wasn’t right—she wasn’t Rusol’s mother. And Rusol hadn’t been crowned king yet anyway.

Rusol would be king. The pit in Yassi’s stomach grew deeper. Would he be up to the task? He didn’t have his father’s intellect or experience. Nor did he have his compassion. Though compassion was an odd word to apply to Marten. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he’d had a practical understanding of reality.

What about Sharra? What happened to a concubine when her patron died? Would she tell everyone Merice was responsible for Marten’s death? What was the penalty for regicide? Was it still regicide if it was an accident?

Random thoughts flitted through Yassi’s mind as she tried to avoid looking at the dead man. She’d liked Marten. He’d been kind to her, unknowing of the worst of his son’s excesses. Perhaps he should have known, but she couldn’t fault him. He’d been too busy being the king.

Yassi would be queen. A title she didn’t want.

Marten had always believed Larso was made up of different factions just waiting for any excuse to descend into chaos, and that it was his duty to preserve the stability of the kingdom. Yassi had once considered the political situation in Larso to be like a slow-moving avalanche. Was it about to pick up speed?

It seemed to take forever for Magnus to get to the royal apartments, and after that, everything was a blur.