Daughter of Regals (5 page)

But
Queen Damia’s singer gave the banquet a song, which caught in my throat. It was
one I had not heard before, and it was at once passionate and poignant, fiery
and grieving, as only the best songs can be. In brief, it described the slaying
of the last Dragon by the Basilisk-Regal, my grandmother’s grandfather.

That
thought was frightening: Creature at war against Creature, kind-murder which
bereft the world of something Real and therefore precious. In the known
history of the realm, only the Mage made images of the ancient Creatures fought
and slew. The Magic beings themselves lived lives of their own, apart and
untouched, ruled by interests and needs and commitments, which took no account
of that which was not Real. But Queen Damia’s minstrel sang that the
Basilisk-Regal went out to rid the realm of the last Dragon because that great,
grim Creature had conceived a corrupt taste for unReal flesh and had begun to
feed upon the folk of the Three Kingdoms. Thus for the sake of his chosen
people the Basilisk-Regal was forced to take the blood of one of his own kind,
and the stain of that death had marked his hands until his own passing. It had
soaked into his flesh until at the last he was compelled to keep his hands
covered because they had become too hideous to be looked upon by ordinary human
eyes.

When
the song faded from the hall, I found myself with tears on my face and a hot
ache in my heart. It is only a song, I protested against myself. It has no
power over you. Do not act the girl in front of your enemies. But to myself I
responded, The last Dragon! Oh, father of Regals! The
last!
How did you
bear it?

I paid
no heed to the banqueters who watched me in my weakness, and I heard nothing of
the songs sung by the remaining minstrels. I thought only of the fine Creatures
which had filled my dreams from my earliest girlhood—the fierce Wyvern and
wild Banshee, the terrible Gorgon and subtle Cockatrice, the mystic
Phoenix
—of my dream that one day I would
stand among them, a Creature myself. And of what the world had lost in the
slaying of the last Dragon.

If the
song were true.

At last
I recollected myself enough to be firm:
if
the song were true. Mage
Ryzel had told me all he knew of the history of Magic in the realm—and he had
not spoken of any bloodshed among Creatures. And who had sung the song, which
had struck so deeply into my lone heart? Who, indeed, but the minstrel of Queen
Damia?

Was
this song some ploy of hers?

If it
were, I could not fathom it. As in everything she did, her true intent lay
hidden beneath a surface of immaculate innocence. Perhaps she mocked me—or perhaps
warned. Whatever her purpose, I feared I had already fallen to the snare. But
now I no longer sought to avoid her gaze; when she looked toward me, I let her
see that there was a darkness in my eyes, which she would be wise to interpret
as cold rage.

Perhaps
I should have made shift to prolong the banquet. Each new phase of the evening
brought me closer to the time of my trial. But instead I wished for an escape
from the masque of confidence I was required to perform. My smile felt brittle
on my lips, and I had need for privacy in which to shore up my resolve. So when
the minstrels had done I rose to my feet and thanked them formally. At this
signal, the servants brought around brandies and richer wines to complete the
meal; and the guests also rose to stretch their legs and mingle and talk while
the ball itself was made ready.

But as
I turned to leave the banquet hall, a servant came to inform me quietly that
King Thone desired an audience with me alone before the bell.

I swore
to myself because beyond question I could not afford to shirk such a request.
Then I set aside my ache for respite and asked the servant to guide Canna’s
king to one of the private meeting-rooms near the banquet hail.

There
were several of these rooms in the manor— places where the Regals might hold
discreet conversation with kings and counsellors and messengers—and it was
surely known to half the ambitious connivers in the Three Kingdoms that these
chambers were not in truth private. A ruler who sought to hold sway without
bloodshed preserved his own secrets while at all times suggesting to his
opponents that their secrets were not safe. Therefore some of the meeting-rooms
were behung with tapestries behind which eavesdroppers might be concealed;
others had listening slits cunningly hidden in the walls; still others possessed
covert doors, which might give sudden entrance at need to the guards of the
manor.

For my
audience with King Thone, I selected a chamber, which displayed a brave
weaving of the Ascension of the Phoenix-Regal. But I set no one behind the
tapestry, neither Mage Ryzel nor any guard. Let King Thone believe himself
overheard or not, as he chose; I had a need to show myself capable of facing
him alone. And if Ryzel were indeed untrustworthy, I would do well to withhold
as many secrets from him as possible.

Entering
the room, I succumbed to my anxieties so far as to glance behind the tapestry
for my own reassurance. Then I seated myself in the ornately carved chair
reserved for the use of the Regals and awaited Thone’s coming.

He
arrived shortly, unaccompanied by any of his courtiers or dependents. Since I
did not invite him to sit, he remained standing. To make him wait and wonder, I
instructed the servant to bring a decanter of the Gorgon-Regal’s choice
brandy, and I did not speak to the monarch of Canna until after the brandy had
come and the servant had departed again. Then, deliberately, I poured out one
glass of the deep amber drink—for King Thone, not for myself—and said as
obtusely as I could, “My lord, you asked an audience. Do you have some
complaint? Does the hospitality of the manor displease you?”

He held
his glass and gazed at it in silence for a moment. I had given it to him as a
test, to see how he would choose between the courtesy of setting the brandy
aside and the discourtesy of drinking when I did not. So my heart sank somewhat
when he raised the glass to his mouth and sipped delicately.

His
milky orbs betrayed nothing as he looked toward me at last; but his way of
savouring the taste of the brandy hinted at other pleasures. “My lady,” he said
slowly, “the hospitality of the manor is without flaw, as ever. You do not
believe that I would trouble you on such a pretext.”

“What
matters the pretext,” I replied, seeking to unsettle him, “if it gives us
opportunity to speak openly to each other?’

His
gaze held me as if he were blind, proof against what I did. Still slowly, he
said, “My lady, what do you wish to say to me?”

I gave
him a smile to suggest any number of possibilities; but I answered only, “My
lord of Canna, you requested this audience. I did not.”

“My
lady,” he said at once, as if nothing lay hidden behind his words, ‘at such
bails it is often done that the Mages of the realm give demonstration of their
prowess. I ask permission for my Mage to entertain you.

He
surprised me, but I did not show it, “Cashon?” I asked in mild curiosity. “You
have termed him a master of Fire.”

Thone’s
plump lips implied a smile.

“Then
his demonstration will be hazardous in this crowded hall, among so many guests.
Why do you wish him to display his skill here?”

“My
lady, you are not Regal. You are merely aspirant. You would be wise to
understand the significance of my Mage’s power.”

His
tone made me stiffen. I knew now that I was being threatened, but I did not yet
grasp the nature of the threat. Carefully, I responded, “It is undeniable that
I am merely aspirant. But I am also the daughter of my father, the
Phoenix-Regal. I need not risk harm to the guests of the manor in order to
understand Cashon’s magery—or the meaning of Fire.”

He
played his gambit well. His voice was that of a polite man who sought to
disguise his boredom, and his eyes gave away nothing, as he said, “Perhaps if
you better understood the uses of Fire, you would not risk the entire realm on
a foolish attempt at Ascension. Perhaps if your eyes were opened, you would see
that there are others better placed than yourself to assume the rule of the
Three Kingdoms.

You
dare? I wished to retort. You dare say such things to me? I will have you
locked in irons and left in the coldest cell of the manor, and you will never
threaten man or woman again.
That
power I still have while this evening
lasts!

But I
uttered none of those words. I kept my anger to myself. Instead, I said
quietly, “You speak of yourself, my lord Thone. Please continue.”

As if
he had already won, he emptied his glass, then refilled it from the decanter.
The faint twist of his mouth suggested that I was a fool not to share this
excellent brandy.

“My
lady”—now he did not trouble to conceal his sarcasm—.”I had not thought you in
need of such instruction. Mage Ryzel has taught you ill if you do not
understand me. But I will be plain. Canna feeds the Three Kingdoms. Lodan and
Nabal provide them with luxuries; Canna gives them life. And I am served body
and soul by a Mage who has mastered Fire.”

I did
not let my gaze waver from the milky secret of his eyes. “That much is plain.
Be plainer.”

King
Thone could not stifle a grin. “My lady, you are charming. This girlish
innocence becomes you. But it does not render you fit for rule. However, you
have commanded plainness, and while this evening lasts, you must be obeyed.
Plainly, then, you must not attempt to Ascend the Seat of the Regals. Rather,
you must give way to those better suited for rule. If you do not—I speak
plainly at your command—if you set even one foot on the steps to that Seat, my
Mage will unleash his Fire.

“Not
upon the manor,” he said promptly, as if I had questioned him. “Assuredly not.
That would be hazardous, as you have said. No, he will set Fire upon the fields
and crops of Canna. My secret storages will be spared, but Nabal and Lodan will
starve. They will
starve,
my lady, until they see fit to cede their
crowns to me.”

Happily,
he concluded, “You will find yourself unwilling to bring that much death upon
the realm by defying me.

He made
me tremble with shock and anger; but I did not show it. For an instant, I
feared that I would. I had been trained and trained for such contests—but
training was not experience, and I was not yet twenty-one, and until this night
Mage Ryzel had always stood at my side. The peril to the realm, however,
demanded better of me. Here the only question, which signified, was not whether
I would later prove Regal, but rather whether I would be able to serve the
realm now.

From my
seat, I said softly, “You are bold, my lord. Apparently you care nothing that
by these tactics you will make yourself the most hated man in the history of
the Three Kingdoms. And apparently also,” I continued so that he would not
interrupt, “you have given careful thought to this path. Very good. Perhaps, my
lord”—my courtesy was precise—”yow will tell me how you intend to respond if I
summon the guards of the manor and have you thrown without ceremony into the
dungeon.”

He
stared through me as though I were trivial; but his mouth betrayed a smirk. “That
would be ill advised,” he replied. “My commands to my Mage have been explicit.
If I do not shortly appear at the ball to restrain him, he will commence the
razing of Canna.”

“I see.”
I nodded once, stiffly, acknowledging his cleverness. “And if I imprison
Cashon also, what then?”

“My
lady,” Thone said with elaborate patience, “I have told you that he is a
master. And surely Ryzel has taught you that a Mage need not be free to wield
his power. Neither distance nor dungeon can spare the realm from my will.”

I
paused for a moment, marshalling my thoughts. Thone’s plotting depended upon
Cashon—a man whose integrity and scruples had never been questioned. Yet the monarch
of Canna was certain that Cashon would commit such massive wrong. The idea was
appalling. Still I preserved my composure. Facing my antagonist squarely I
asked, “Would you truly commit that abomination, my lord of Canna?”

“My
lady,” he replied in his tone of patience, “do not insult me with doubt.” His
eyes concealed everything. “I mean to rule the Three Kingdoms, and you will not
prevent me.”

Waving
my hand, I dismissed this assertion as if my ability to prevent him were sure. “And
Cashon?” I inquired almost casually. “He has earned a goodly reputation in
the realm. Will he truly obey your atrocious commands?”

“You
may rely upon it,” said the king. I had not ruffled him.

“That
is preposterous!” I snapped at once, probing hard for a point of weakness. “We
speak of Cashon, my lord—not of Thornden’s sycophant or Damia’s ferret. He was
not shaped in the same gutter, which gave birth to your lordship.
Why
will
he obey you?”

King
Thone’s response lacked the simple decency of anger. Pleased with himself, he
said, “He will obey me because his wife and his three daughters are in my
power. He knows not where they are—but he knows that I will have them slain if
he fails me. And he fears that I will find other uses for them before they die.
Do not doubt that he will obey me.”