03 - Sworn (52 page)

“And finding someone to feed them, and to help Nox prepare something to sustain you, if not cure you?”

He grunted. “The outcome of that little folly wasn’t entirely undesirable. You have a long way to go in terms of learning obedience, but you’re not stupid. You have more potential than I thought.”

I’d have checked him for fever if I hadn’t been afraid he’d take my hand off for it. Such praise, and all it took was losing the things that were most important to me.

“Should anything happen to me,” he continued, “you’ll be in command. I’ve already told Xaven and the Belleisle folk. None of them will oppose you. You have Albion’s full support, as well as everyone else’s.”

I knew I should thank him, but couldn’t make my lips form the words. Not when I wanted so badly for someone else to take on that responsibility. But Ulric would never pass it to someone outside of our family, especially a non-Tyrean.

“I won’t disappoint you,” I said instead.

He frowned as he continued to watch the city.

There was more to say, more plans to be made, and yet he remained silent. A few minutes later I cleared my throat and said, “A wise man once told me that worry is pointless, and a waste of energy we could better direct toward other things.”

He nodded. “It’s good advice. Did I say that?”

“You did. Long after my mother died, when I was anxious that my magic wasn’t developing quickly enough to please you.”

“You remember my words from that long ago?”

“You spoke to me so rarely.”

He winced. “You said a wise man, not a kind one. Not so wise, in the end. I handled my grief badly after I lost your mother.”

I had no reply for that, and decided he wasn’t looking to offer a heart-felt apology. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it even if he wanted to. “What are you watching for?” I asked.

“Weakness. What do you see when you look past the plains, Aren?”

“I see Luid. My home, though I haven’t seen much of it in recent years. I see the wall. If I were a little closer, I’d likely see armed soldiers moving about on top of it. Beyond the wall, I see the city spread out, rising toward the ocean cliffs in the east, and the palace spires. I see the sea to the south, and no ships coming or going.”

“Look to your left, beyond the wall. What there?”

A chill passed over me. I didn’t have to look, and didn’t care to. “The Despair.”

“Hmm.” Ulric faced it full on. “How would you describe that?”

I turned to look at it, and a familiar sense of confusion washed over me, even at this distance. Though nothing appeared out of focus or hidden, I couldn’t find words to describe the desolate space that spread out from the city’s low north wall. All I wanted was to look away and forget the place existed. “I can’t say what I see, only what I’ve heard.”

“Good enough.”

I continued to stare at it, trying to make it solidify in my mind. “It’s barren. I’ve heard it called the Doldrums, or the Desolation. It’s a place that breaks a person’s heart and mind with sadness.”

“Almost correct,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “Did you ever venture into it?”

“No. I visited the northern part of the city on few occasions. Even with the wall’s magical protections, I felt it. Each time, I returned to the palace with the feeling that nothing mattered, convinced that my life was worthless no matter what I did, that hope and happiness were lies.”

Ulric nodded. “Well remembered. That barely digs below the surface of what it is, but you have the idea.”

“What is it?” I asked. “I’ve heard stories saying that it’s the absence of magic, or that someone tried to work magic out there and it backfired in the most spectacular way anything ever has, or that it’s a natural phenomenon. No one likes to talk about it, though it’s right there.”

Ulric continued to watch it, and I wondered whether he saw more clearly than I did. “No one knows for certain. It’s from my mother’s time as queen. She never spoke of it, and reports from the time are conflicting. It seems to be a created thing, but while one account claims it was intentional, placed as a defense for the city, another states as you said that it was a mistake. But there’s strong magic there. Plenty of it, not that anyone dares access it.” There was very good reason why there was no gate in that section of the wall, and why that area was less well-guarded. No attacker would be foolish enough to approach that way, whether man or beast. If they did, they wouldn’t get within an arrow’s shot of the wall. Even plants rarely grew out there.

I looked away from the dusty, brown earth to the north of the city. Now that we’d talked about it, I could see it a little better, but didn’t desire to look longer.

The wind picked up, blowing from behind us toward the city. Ulric pulled his jacket tighter against his body.

“We should get back,” I said.

“Do you see anything else? Any weak point in Luid’s defenses?”

My stomach tightened. “Are we talking about taking the city, then?”

His lips narrowed. “Not with the forces we have now. I’d rather find a way for us to face Severn one on one, as is proper, but he’ll never allow us in. We’re going to have to find a way through those gates, and past all of his defenses. Let’s say we did attack directly. Is there a weakness?”

I looked again. “No. The main gate is well-fortified. You and your ancestors did your job far too well. We have no ships to attack the harbor, and no help from the merfolk.”

He nodded. He knew all of it. He wanted to know that I knew. “And to the east is all cliffs to the ocean, and us with no way to scale them or method of aerial attack.”

“Florizel might help,” I said. “She might fly you in, and I could fly, myself. But Severn would have us cut down as soon as we were spotted.”

“I thought the same. We need to get ourselves in, but we also need an attack large enough that it will pull every soldier in the palace away from Severn, leaving him exposed.” He pressed his knuckles to his lips. “He’s got soldiers. He’s got magic, and we have no idea what kind or how much. We have a good deal of power on our side, but I’d prefer not to sacrifice lives if we can avoid it.”

An image came to mind, and a memory. The natural gift I’d discovered as a child.
Dark magic. Dancing fingers.

I shuddered, and not from the cold breeze. “What if our troops—at least, those leading the attack—couldn’t be hurt or killed? A human wall, marching through the Despair, drawing the worst of the city’s defenses away from those who were vulnerable?”

He gave me a look that said I must be insane. “That would be impressive magic, but unless you know something about Albion’s people that I don’t, I think it’s a dead end.”

“Not live soldiers,” I said. “Not men who feel pain or faint from blood loss. If they took the brunt of the arrows and magical attacks…”

Dead eyes snapped open in my mind, unseeing and unknowing. I didn’t know how well they’d follow any orders from me, whether they’d be obedient and agile enough to do it. There was only one way I might find out.

Ulric’s lips parted as though he wanted to speak, but couldn’t find words. His mouth closed again and he gave his head a firm shake. “No. Aren, no.”

“Had you forgotten?”

He kept shaking his head, as though he might erase the idea. “One doesn’t forget that his son can do a thing like that. I hoped that you’d forgotten, though.”

“I tried to. I haven’t been practicing it.”

“Thank the Goddess and all the gods for that.”

“But it’s still there.” The plan was flawed, even if I could make it work. A few dozen bodies were hardly enough of a shield. And yet the idea of using them, the thought of the horror and panic they’d inspire in guards at the gate, would not leave me alone.

“No,” Ulric said. “Absolutely not.”

“This is how we could get to Severn,” I said, the plan taking vague shape as I spoke. “Distractions. You said yourself that we need to get Severn’s guards away from him. Corpses attacking would certainly help, and would cost us nothing.”

He let out a barking laugh. “Aren, what you’re proposing is insanity. You think you have any future as king if the people learn of this? You think I have one if I allow it? It’s sacrilege. Offensive to the dead, and the gods, and every human instinct.”

“And what if I don’t care about offending the gods? I doubt the Goddess herself is going to rain fire down on me for it. As for human concerns, I think the people want their land ruled by a good king. And I think this is worth discussing if we have no other options.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Aren, listen to me. I’m glad you’re coming up with new ideas. But you can’t do this. The laws against that sort of magic are based in religion, but it goes beyond that. There are stories of people raising the dead, and the effect of it on them was horrifying. They turned into walking corpses themselves. That’s why people came to believe it offended the gods. Because of the punishments the deities sent on those who played with death.”

“So that’s a no?” I asked.

He smiled, but his expression remained tight. “We’ll call that a definite no. And don’t mention it to anyone else. Keep thinking, but for now, we wait for an opportunity to present itself. Nox potion will return to us. Our time will come.”

As we walked back to camp, I admitted to myself that I was relieved. Better for that part of me to stay in a locked room forever, that no one know. It might have worked, but at what cost? Brother Phelun told me that there was always a price to magic, either to ourselves or others. Surely the effects of working so closely with death were better left unexplored.

That night I dreamed of convulsing bodies rising from the earth, marching to battle. I dreamed I lost control of them, that they consumed the city and every person in it.

I woke drenched in cold sweat, begging some invisible god for forgiveness, and vowed that nothing would make me entertain the idea again.

35

NOX

B
y the end of my second full day in the palace, Sara had me completely healed. She was as good at her job as Aren had said, and though I didn’t trust her, I admired her. I’d had trouble gaining respect back home, even when I was the best Potioner around. Here in the city, surrounded by as many kinds of power as there were rooms in the palace, she had climbed her way to the top and become head Potioner for Severn before she turned thirty.

I wondered whether we might have been friends if I’d grown up in Luid, or whether we’d have torn each other down in our race for greatness.

In any case, I was happy to let her have it now. Let her be called to Severn’s rooms. Let her deal with his needs. All I wanted now was answers and ingredients. For those, I needed to gain her trust, and so I made myself as friendly and unthreatening as I could, ready to help and to serve in any way necessary.

I hadn’t been allowed out of my room while I healed, but Sara had come to bring potions, and to offer theoretical problems for me to solve. Simple things, mostly, from healing toothaches to identifying samples of plants she brought to me. I tried to contain my excitement over unfamiliar ones, and couldn’t. At least my enthusiasm pleased her, and the questions kept my mind occupied with something other than what might be happening back at camp, or what would become of me if I crossed paths with Wardrel again.

I woke with the sun on my third day in Luid and dressed in the simple black dress and white apron that I’d found in my closet—my uniform, should they choose to allow me to work. I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands folded in my lap, waiting for the thunk of the lock opening.

Today I’ll get out. Today I’ll find information. Today I’ll become useful.

The lock turned, and I stayed in my place until the door swung open. I smiled at the young guard who stepped cautiously into the room. “Good morning, Myk.”

He didn’t exactly smile back, but a dimple puckered at the left side of his mouth as he handed me a buttered sweet roll and a small apple. I ate well there, if simply.

He ran a hand over his pulled-back, carrot-orange hair. He wore the red uniform, but no helmet. “Good morning, Nox. You’re to start work today. Are you ready to go?”

“I’m so ready to get out of this room, I could burst. Let’s go.”

Myk had stood guard outside my room the day before, and answered any time I knocked. I hadn’t asked too many questions, not wanting to rouse his suspicions, but I’d tried to make friends, pretending I was lonely and frightened. He was a nice enough fellow, and had tried to put me at ease.

“It’s so kind of you to escort me,” I said as we walked down the hallway—the only one I’d been permitted to see since I’d been dumped in my room, and then only on toilet breaks. I’d memorized the location of every door and side-passage we passed, marked the locations of the few paintings on the stone walls so I’d be able to find my way back if need be, but none of it told me anything useful.

His freckled ears reddened. “I wish it were kindness on my part.”

“Will I always be treated like a prisoner?”

“I don’t know. The other Potioners have more freedom, but none are allowed to leave without special permission. Everyone’s rooms are locked at night.”

“Why?”

He shot me a sideways glance. “Why are you so curious?”

I tried to act innocent, and shrugged. “In my town, I was respected. Trusted. Accustomed to going where I pleased. I miss the fresh air.”

He looked away. “We all pay a price for the work we do here these days. Times are hard, but they’ll get better when the king’s nearby enemies have been defeated. Then you’ll be safe to enjoy your freedom.”

I didn’t point out that signs indicated Severn was planning a war against Darmid when this little problem was taken care of, and times would hardly get better for a soldier if that were the case. I certainly wasn’t supposed to know that.

“I do hope so,” I said instead.

He held the door to the workshop open for me, and I murmured my thanks as I passed—and stopped, still as a statue, to take it all in.

The openness was the first thing that astounded me. I’d been trained in cramped cottages and worked in my own kitchen, then in Mama Bunn’s little cabin. This room stretched several stories overhead. The window in the far wall was nearly as tall and twice as wide, spanning the length of the room and offering a stunning view of the city below and the plains beyond, letting in ample sunlight. Every corner of the room, from the smooth marble floors to the upper reaches of the ceiling, was immaculately clean. Smooth stone stretched from floor to ceiling, the pattern of the cut granite broken only by windows, cupboards, and doors. No paintings or tapestries here to distract us, though the room had its own kind of austere beauty.