A Crown Imperiled (41 page)

‘The old order in the demon realm is shattered,’ Miranda said, glancing at him. ‘The first kingdoms are destroyed, consumed by a void that is slowly expanding to devour that entire reality.’

‘Void?’ asked Pug, shifting his focus to what she was saying instead of who she was.

‘I believe it is the Dread, Pug.’

‘Why?’

‘It bears a strong resemblance to what you two saw with Nakor in the Te-Karana’s sacrificial pit on Omadrabar, that growing monstrosity that devours everything before it.’

Pug sighed. ‘It makes sense. There wouldn’t be only one Dreadlord trying to enter the higher realms.’ He looked at Miranda, but this time his expression was thoughtful rather than wonder-struck. ‘Kalkin once told me there had been many attempts in many places by the Dread to cross the void into our realm. He showed me destruction on an unimaginable scale.’

‘I don’t know what’s become of the demon realm after I left,’ said Miranda.

‘Your story,’ said Magnus quietly.

She took a deep breath, composing herself. ‘My earliest memories are of my mother, cradling me as she fed me bits of bloody flesh while the world she knew was falling apart around her,’ she began.

For nearly an hour Miranda told the story of her evolution as Child and being accompanied on that journey by Belog. When she had finished Pug and Magnus were both silent for a long moment, then Magnus said, ‘In all of this, do you have any sense why?’

Miranda looked honestly helpless. ‘Pug, you’ve had more dealings with Ban-ath than any mortal. His games, his mysteries, his misdirection, and lies – but there was always a purpose behind them. I have no idea specifically why he’s done this thing to Nakor and me.’

‘One can only speculate,’ answered Pug, forcing himself to a calmness he didn’t feel. ‘I suspect that it starts and ends with the survival of our world. That has always been the ultimate goal, apparently. Beyond that I would only be speculating.’

Magnus said, ‘There are only two things I can think of that make sense of any of this. Either you are here to provide Father with some intelligence, some useful data he lacks, or you are here because you possess skills he and I together lack.’

Miranda thought about this. ‘We can quibble over each other’s skills. I think I’m probably still better at locating distant objects and retrieving them, because I doubt you’ve spent any time practising that while I . . . was away.’

Magnus’s expression remained calm, but she could sense his discomfort at that statement.

‘And I know I can still transport myself and others better than you,’ she said to Pug. ‘But you possess a wider range of abilities than either one of us. So, if it’s not something overt and obvious, what is it?’

‘Perspective,’ said Magnus.

Pug nodded. ‘You . . . my wife was a remarkable talent. As you observe, she was my superior in several crafts of magic, but you bring all her skills and experiences coupled with a background alien beyond imagining to her.’ He looked down for a moment as if what he was saying was difficult. ‘I have no doubt should somehow the situation be reversed and she found herself with the growing memories of Child within her, she would have—’

‘I’d have walled them off somehow, kept them from asserting control or domination!’

‘Yes,’ said Pug.

‘Kalkin – Ban-ath – picked Child because despite her prodigious strength, she was naïve and unformed. Her personality lacked years of experience and a profound sense of self that would have given her the tools to prevent your personality from dominating.’

Miranda smiled slightly at Magnus’s suggestion that ‘she’ was his mother, somehow.

‘Yet,’ said Pug, ‘there is some component within that is unique to Child, or at least to a demon’s view of things, that we need.’

‘What about Nakor?’ asked Miranda. ‘He certainly was no inexperienced babe.’

Magnus let out a slow breath, as if letting go of his anger at this manifestation of his mother as some sort of mockery and now looked on it as something it was critical he understand. ‘But you intimated this Belog was some sort of academic, correct?’

‘An archivist, yes.’

‘A sheltered existence, was my impression of what you described,’ said Magnus, ‘and not very powerful.’

‘Yes, Dahun kept power and knowledge separate.’

‘At some future time, perhaps we can take advantage of your unique experiencee . . .’ He looked at the perfect reconstruction of his wife and said, ‘What should I call you?’

With a wry expression he had come to know too well, she said, ‘No matter how much it distresses Magnus, I think of myself as Miranda. Besides, the last person to call Miranda “Child” was my mother and you know how I felt about that bitch.’

Magnus laughed. ‘That was unexpected.’ Then he let out a slow breath. ‘Then again, perhaps it wasn’t. I won’t call you “Mother” but I will use Miranda.’

‘Fair enough,’ she replied. ‘And I will refrain from addressing you as “son”.’

Now he tried hard not to laugh. ‘Mother only called me “son” when she was lecturing me on my shortcomings.’ He mimicked her tone and said, ‘“Son, if I have to talk to your father about this . . .”’

Pug stood up. ‘This is going to be difficult for all of us, for some time, I think, but we can all agree that it was not by mere whim that Kalkin undertook such a transformation. In all this there is a constant: Kalkin breaks rules but he breaks them carefully. He could, I suspect, sit down and just tell us all what we’re doing here, but there is a reason he doesn’t. I suspect he’s constrained in certain ways we can hardly understand, but that being said, he has brought the three of us together at this time to contend with something that endangers our world, and if as we all suspect, it is a coming onslaught by the Dread, then we must seek to understand as much as we can of the risk and endeavour to prepare for it as best we can.’

‘I suggest we fetch Nakor—’ said Magnus and suddenly Miranda was gone.

‘She’s a lot like your mother,’ said Pug quietly.

A moment later Miranda was back with one hand on the arm of Nakor, and Magnus said, ‘She’s exactly like Mother.’

Nakor grinned and said, ‘Pug, Magnus!’ He vigorously shook each man’s hand. ‘It is so wonderful to see you again, for the first time!’

Even Magnus could not help but laugh.

•  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN  •

Mysteries

J
IM SHOUTED.

‘Land ho!’ He had been detailed to the day watch and just happened to be in the forward rigging when the first smudge on the horizon indicated that their destination was in sight. With a sharp wind and a following tide, they would be landing in Roldem within three hours at this rate.

He had been frantically trying to gather as much information as possible before the King’s journey to Roldem to meet with the Emperor of Kesh. The meeting was unprecedented and given recent history, Jim had no doubt that magic was involved in the decision. No monarch of Kesh had ever left the Overn Deep, let alone ventured beyond the borders to visit a foreign ruler. From the Keshian perspective they were all social inferiors.

On the other hand, Sezioti was an unusual emperor by Keshian Trueblood standards, being a scholar rather than a hunter. Hunting was the foundation of Trueblood culture, back to the dawn of time when the lion-hunters and crocodile-hunters of the Overn Deep shore roamed, a dream of empire not even within their minds.

If Jim had been unconvinced before about the prevalent use of magic to destroy the various intelligence services, subvert nobles to treason, and otherwise totally ruin his life, this was the ultimate proof. For even if the Emperor was untouched by magic, his advisors and many within the Gallery of Lords and Masters must have been influenced for this massive change in Keshian foreign policy to take place.

He had undertaken to send a message to Pug, though the gods only knew how long it would take to reach him given the current lack of magical transport.

When news had come that the King was entertaining the Princess of Roldem, Jim began using his contacts at the palace to gather intelligence as best he could. He debated returning in his role of Lord Jamison, but decided against it. His grandfather’s return to health showed that whatever plan Sir William Alcorn had which required the negation of the Duke’s influence, it was tied to this peace negotiation in Roldem.

Anne had proven invaluable in getting what information she could from the palace. Princess Stephané was well, in the company of two young men whom Jim knew would die to protect her. She had said that King Gregory had given Stephané a state welcome, despite the odd circumstances of her arrival, and by some adroit eavesdropping, Anne had pieced together most of what had happened in Roldem which had caused the Princess to flee.

So Jim decided if he couldn’t openly travel as part of the King’s entourage, he would travel on the same ship as a common sailor. His only problem was that the King and his guests travelled on a Royal Navy ship, and passing as one of the crew was nearly impossible. He had almost been caught twice, once sneaking into the palace and again as he left, but when he finally was back at the docks he had in his possession a very convincing transfer order signed by an admiral whose signature Jim had forged more than a dozen times.

So, Able Seaman Tuckford Jones had reported to the
Royal Gallant
hours before she set sail. Jim knew enough both about common sailors’ duties and military protocol that he managed to fit in, just about.

He had adroitly avoided the rare occasion when he might be recognized by Hal or Ty, and now he was mere hours away from resuming his position as head of the Isles’ intelligence apparatus. And that meant finding Lady Franciezka Sorboz. He found himself surprisingly anxious to find her, and was forced to admit to himself that he was probably in love for the first time in his life. He found it ironic that she was probably the one women he had bedded he couldn’t have if he wished. He had always wondered what it was about women that made him attractive; the more of a bastard he was, the more they wanted him. Franciezka was the exception: she was in her own way as big a ‘bastard’ as he was. Perhaps that was what drew him; she was the only woman who could truly understand him for what he was. Moreover, he was oddly taken by the notion that his most passionate lover was also a woman who could probably murder him with her bare hands should the need arise. With a rueful shake of his head, he considered his life a very odd one, indeed.

He scampered down the ratlines and reached the deck. Moving with purpose always saved him from being put to an unwelcome task by one of the mates. As sailors went, Jim was neither a malingerer nor a volunteer. He stood his watch quietly, competently, and without complaint. He was always affable with the other crew on his watch, but made no close friends or bitter enemies. He worked diligently at being as nondescript as possible and usually succeeded.

Jim made his way to the companionway down to the lower deck and then into the crews quarters. He had little by way of personal belongings, so he threw together his kit quickly. A small bag he could throw over his shoulders, and the only important thing within was a pair of low-cut boots he could don when he reached the shore. Jim’s impersonation of a sailor was perfect in all details, save one: he didn’t spend enough time out of boots to develop the heavy calluses on his feet that made walking barefoot over cobbles tolerable.

He needed to find Franciezka. He had a good idea where to look, but that was no guarantee he would find her. But unlike the Isles, he had few eyes and ears in Roldem. Still, standing around and doing nothing was not his best choice, so he began to plot.

Hearing footsteps coming down from above, he moved away from his hammock, making sure his kit bag was stowed, then headed for the rope locker in the forecastle. He listened as two sailors came down and did as he had just done, gathered their kits together in anticipation of a swift departure from the ship.

Jim had planned on being among those sailors detailed to carry luggage to the King of Roldem’s palace. That changed when he overheard the second mate telling the cargo master that the palace luggage would be handled by garrison soldiers, and the ship’s crew would only help offload the commercial cargo.

So he waited until the quarters were again empty then hurried back on deck. As he had expected, no one noticed his coming and going, so he hurried to the ratlines and again climbed to the topgallants. He would linger up there repairing a non-existent crack with a rope brace until it was time to reef sail.

Time passed as Jim scampered about in the rigging, ignoring certain orders and effectively hiding himself from view behind sails when necessary. His one goal was to avoid cargo duty, for that would last for hours and keep him from reaching the palace quickly.

At last the ship sailed into the harbour. Since they were flying the King’s flag along with a hastily-fashioned pennant to denote the Princess of the Royal House of Roldem, shipping in the harbour came to a standstill to allow the royal guests a swift passage.

Jim paused for a moment to stare in amazement at the imperial dromon from Kesh that the Emperor’s agents had chosen. As no Emperor had ever left Kesh’s shores before, no royal transport had ever been required before. Jim recognized it at once as an imperial naval flagship, the vessel of some Trueblood admiral. The Truebloods of the Overn Deep were only freshwater sailors, and although the Overn was a large enough body of water that storms and tides were a problem, at its worst it was nothing compared to the unpredictability of the deep oceans on Midkemia. Three moons ensured that only a veteran captain could navigate uncharted waters.

As a result Kesh tended to be a nation of coast-huggers, comfortable with patrolling the shallows near home, and relying on mostly overland trade, with the Kingdom and Roldemish ships carrying cargo between those two nations. A few brave and resourceful Keshian traders had, of course, mastered the tides of the Sea of Kingdoms and made a handsome profit trading between Kesh and Roldem or Rillanon directly, but they were few and far between.