Enchanter (26 page)

But Faraday had reeled back from the King's prone form almost
instantly. What she had felt underneath her hands had been no natural
illness. Dark enchantments had writhed beneath the King's skin. For
long minutes Faraday had sat shaking, waving away a servant's
murmured concerns. Enchantments? But how? By whom?

She had no dearth of suspects for the murder of Priam. Borneheld,
obviously, but the whole Brotherhood of the Seneschal would
doubtless fight for the privilege of slipping a knife into Priam's back,
and Faraday also wondered if some of the nobles thought they might
have too much to lose if the King concluded an alliance with the Icarii
and Avar.

And yet who among all those could wield dark enchantments?

Faraday had felt the power, but she could not understand it. It was like
and yet totally unlike what she had felt from Axis.

Priam was in the final grips of a murder, and a murder effected by
enchantment.

Embeth put a hand on Faraday's arm, bringing the woman back into
the present. Faraday nodded her thanks, and realised that Jayme had
reached across the bed and touched Judith's hand.

"I am sorry, my Queen, but I must commence the Service soon.

Priam, well, he has only a small amount of time left."

Judith took a great gulping breath, her fragile shoulders heaving,
then nodded. "Begin, Brother-Leader."

Jayme began intoning the Service of Passage, the age-old service
meant to ease the soul of the dying into the next world. The words
were beautiful and comforting, exhorting
not only the dying to meet his maker with joy and thankfulness, but exhorting all those who grieved to remember that on the other side of death Artor waited to receive Priam into His eternal care. It was the duty of the dying to make a good death, to remember his faults and his sins so that Artor would accept him into His care, and it was the duty of those witnessing the death to make sure that the dying made their death the best one possible.

Faraday watched Jayme carefully, trying to discern the slightest note of satisfaction in his voice, the faintest gleam of triumph in his eyes. But if Jayme felt any of these emotions, he hid them well.

"Priam," he asked very softly, resting his three middle fingers on the King's waxen forehead, "listen to me. You must bind yourself to Artor's care, but you must remember that He will only receive you into His care once you have confessed your faults, flaws and sins. Priam, confess your sins now, that Artor may receive you with love."

Priam's eyelids opened. His cracked lips moved soundlessly, and Jayme motioned to Borneheld for the chalice.

"Drink, my King," Jayme whispered, "drink so that you may confess your sins."

Faraday stared at the chalice for a moment, disturbed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her stomach. The more she stared at the chalice, the more she realised that there was something evil, shadowed, about it. Dark letters hovered about its rim, and Faraday felt her marrow chill. It was the source of the dark enchantment that killed Priam!

Nonetheless, Priam seemed to have been revived by the sip of water. He started to mumble, and Judith's eyes filled with tears — he was remembering the early years of their marriage, when all had seemed so bright, so full of life, when they were still convinced that healthy children lay only a year or two into the future. Unusually for a court-arranged union, Judith and Priam had enjoyed a marriage filled with love, even when disappointment at their childlessness sometimes threatened to overwhelm them.

"Yes, yes," Jayme encouraged Priam, his eyes gleaming strangely, "confess all, confess all that Artor may receive you." Faraday stared at Jayme. He and Borneheld had handled the chalice. How was it they stayed healthy and Priam sickened? She averted her eyes, but her gaze was instantly caught by Moryson.

What was the man doing? He was standing behind Jayme and Borneheld, the hood of his robe pulled close, but Faraday could see his lips moving silently and his eyes riveted on the chalice.

As Faraday stared Moryson suddenly lifted his eyes to hers...and grinned.

Faraday shuddered. The man's eyes were as ice, and they bore relentlessly into her own.

"Faraday?" Embeth murmured at her side, and Faraday finally tore her eyes away from Moryson.

When next she looked Moryson had his eyes back on the King, his face a mask of sorrow.

A spasm crossed Priam's face, and his entire body convulsed. Judith gave a soft cry of distress and grasped Priam's hand as tightly as she could. A trickle of bloodied froth issued from Priam's gaping mouth, and Embeth leaned over and wiped it away. The King's eyes now stared sightlessly at the canopy of his bed and his breath came in great uneven gasps.

Judith's mouth trembled, but she whispered to her husband words of love and farewell.

Then Priam rallied, and reached out a quavering hand. He pulled Judith's head close to his mouth. He whispered into her ear. Faraday saw Judith's entire body stiffen in reaction.

Finally Judith sat back, her face impassive. Priam's head sank down onto the pillow, his fingers trailed down Judith's face one last time, and then he died.

There was silence. After Priam's incoherent madness of the past weeks, his end had been surprisingly peaceful.

Finally it was Moryson who spoke. "The King is dead," he said, and turned to Borneheld. "Long live the King."

A strange expression crossed Borneheld's face, then Jayme pulled the amethyst ring of office from Priam's finger and slipped it onto Borneheld's thick digit. "Long live the King," Jayme intoned. "King Borneheld."

Faraday, watching, experienced a feeling of unreality.

Borneheld's eyes, burning with naked triumph, met hers above the bed. "My Queen," he said.

Faraday slipped quietly into Judith's chambers. She had spent the past three hours helping Judith and Embeth lay Priam's body out. The passing of a King required formal ceremonies, prayers, rituals, and the washing and preparing of Priam's body to lie in state. As Priam's widow, Judith had overseen all of this, her fragile face calm, emotionless. Her demeanour, as always, gracious and regal.

But Faraday had seen that Judith was close to collapse, and now wanted to make sure she was resting as comfortably as her grief would allow.

Judith sat on a sofa by the fire, Embeth's arm about her shoulder. Both women had glasses of brandy in their hands.

Embeth smiled wryly as Faraday sank down beside Judith. "There can be no better time to get slightly drunk," she said, "than in the hours just after your husband has died."

Faraday knew she must be remembering her own husband Ganelon's death.

Judith sniffed her tears back and put her glass down. Her porcelain skin was smudged and bruised under her eyes, evidence that she had not slept for many nights, and her golden hair was streaked and disordered. Poor Judith, Faraday thought, stroking the woman's hair back into some semblance of order. What will you do with your life now Priam is dead?

"Thank you, Faraday," Judith managed, then cleared her throat and said, her voice stronger, "Priam and I both thank you for your kindness and support over the past three weeks."

Faraday smiled, but did not say anything. She hoped that she could be as gracious if ever faced with a comparable loss. They sat in silence for some time, then Judith stirred and took Faraday's hand.

"My dear, I hope you will forgive me for what I now say...but say it I must and, having seen you with Borneheld over the past weeks, I think I can trust you to hear it." Faraday met Embeth's eyes over Judith's head. Judith abruptly picked up her glass and swallowed the last of her brandy. "Priam told me to name Axis his heir," she said. "He did not want Borneheld to succeed him."

. Faraday's breathing stilled. What good would that do Axis now?

"Artor save us!" Embeth whispered. "You cannot stand up in Borneheld's court and say that Priam named Axis his heir!" Judith smiled bitterly and straightened her back. "I know, Embeth. I have no death wish. I believe Priam's death was planned the instant he announced in audience that he wanted to seek an alliance with Axis."

Faraday stared at Judith, but decided against saying anything about the chalice. She had no idea who had ensorcelled the chalice, and the knowledge that it was ensorcelled would only distress Judith. She took Judith's hand. "Why did Priam change his mind?"

"Over past months," Judith said, "Priam realised how mistaken he'd been never to accept Axis for the man he was -a brilliant war leader and a better prince than Borneheld ever would be." She hesitated, glancing at Embeth. "I have told you this because Embeth has told me something of your feelings for Axis and that she encouraged you tp marry Borneheld when you were racked with doubts."

"And for that I can never apologise enough," said Embeth. Faraday bowed her head and thought for a moment. When she raised her eyes again they were brilliant with power.

Judith and Embeth both gasped.

"Let me tell you something about myself and about Axis," she said, her voice as powerful as her eyes.

She talked for over an hour, Embeth shakily pouring the three of them more brandy when she was halfway through.

"Now that Borneheld is King, Axis is going to need all the help he can get,"

Faraday finished. "Will you help?"

Judith nodded her head, her eyes thoughtful. "Yes, I will, Faraday. It is what Priam would have wanted me to do...and it is what / want to do." She paused.

"And I think I know someone who may tip the balance in Axis' favour."

Borneheld's coronation was held the day after Priam was laid to rest. Clouds of war hung over Achar, and in times such as these, haste was called for.

A public holiday was proclaimed, and colourful bunting hung out. Flags and pennants were hastily raised to honour the new King the next. A public feast would have been appropriate and appreciated, but there was no time to arrange it, so Borneheld simply ordered that barrels of wine and ale be available on every street corner so that the good citizens of Carlon could simply get drunk without the food.

While the Carlonites partied in the streets, the actual coronation took place in the Chamber of the Moons. The entire court was present, every man, woman or child of noble blood crowded into the Chamber. The ceremony itself was officiated over by Jayme, who lowered the heavy gold circlet of office onto Borneheld's head. As the trumpeting of horns far above them announced to the outside world that a new King had been crowned, Borneheld stood to receive the pledges of homage and fealty from his nobles.

Beside him, Faraday sat on a smaller throne, a simple coronet on her head, remembering the night she had first seen Axis in this chamber. One day, she prayed to the Mother, I will sit with Axis on this dais.

The most important nobles approached the dais first. Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale, both down from Jervois Landing for the coronation; Baron Ysgryff of Nor, his exotic features fixed in an expression of the sincerest loyalty as he pledged himself to Borneheld; Earl Burdel of Arcness, Borneheld's friend and ally and now, no doubt, expecting handsome rewards for having supported Borneheld in the past; Baron Greville of Tarantaise, as volubly sincere as Baron Ysgryff had been; and, finally among the higher nobles, the lords of the provinces, came Faraday's father, Earl Isend of Skarabost — now, Faraday noted with some dismay, taken up with a blowsy young noblewoman from Rhaetia who had rouged her nipples so heavily that they had stained the sheer material of her bodice.

After the nobles came sundry dignitaries and ambassadors. As the Corolean ambassador bowed low over his hand, Borneheld made a mental note to request the ambassador to come and see him at the first possible opportunity. Borneheld wanted to conclude a military alliance with the Coroleans as soon as he could.

Before the minor nobles could step forward to pay Borneheld homage, Judith, former Queen, and her lady-in-waiting, Lady Embeth of Tare, stepped forward.

Borneheld frowned, but Faraday inclined her head slightly.

"Yes?" Borneheld asked, as Judith rose frorn her curtsey. The woman, so confident in her graciousness, had always made him feel clumsy.

"Sire," Judith began, "please accept my congratulations on your coronation and my sincere hopes for a long and bountiful reign. I pledge myself to you as your most loyal subject and hope that you know that if you need anything at all, I shall be only too willing to provide it for you."

"Sire." Judith's voice changed slightly, and Borneheld suppressed a grimace.

He knew that tone of voice. The bitch was going to ask him for something.

"Sire, I would ask a boon."

No doubt a substantial annuity or country estate, Borneheld sighed inwardly.

Dowager Queens ever were a nuisance.

"I am still prostrate with grief, Sire, and I would ask that you excuse me from court. You have your own court, and a beautiful wife to grace it." Judith inclined her head to Faraday and smiled slightly. She turned back to Borneheld.

"Embeth, the Lady of Tare, has offered me the sanctuary of her home. I would ask that you excuse both of us from court and from Carlon, so that we may retire to the quieter life of Tare."

Borneheld was surprised. What? No money? No jewels? Just permission to retire from court? Easy enough. He waved a magnanimous hand. "You have my permission, Judith."

"I leave this afternoon, if it pleases you, Sire," Judith said humbly. In truth, she and Embeth had their carriages waiting outside.

"Then I wish you well, Judith, Embeth. Perhaps I will visit one day. Once the Forbidden have been put in their place, of course."

"I will look forward to it with pleasure, Sire," Judith said sweetly.

She curtsied deeply again, caught Faraday's eye for an instant, then she and Embeth swiftly left the Chamber of the Moons.