Fire And Ice (Book 1) (57 page)

             
“What is this?” he asked surprised.  The plates contained a dark meat in a brown sauce.  “I thought we were having dinner with the others?”              

             
“Not tonight,” she told him happily.  The bottle and glasses were placed on the table between the plates.  “Tonight I get you all to myself.”  She opened the bottle and filled their glasses.  “Have a seat.”

             
He held out her chair for her and then took the other himself.  “This is a pleasant surprise.”

             
“Good, it was supposed to be.”

             
He tasted the meat and realized it was venison, and very good.  They ate while they talked.  Mostly they discussed the past or the future, mostly the past, staying away from the present.  When their plates were empty they moved their chairs closer to the fire and finished the wine in the glasses. 

             
“If I could pull it off I would have you safely married before you left,” she said at one point.

             
“There will be time for that later.  When this is over we will have all the time we need,” he said to reassure her, hoping it was true.   

             
“I hope you are right.  I really am.”  She finished her glass and set it on the floor.  “That is all I ever wanted.  To spend my life with you.”

             
He put his own empty glass down as well and reached out to take her hand.  “It will happen.  Just wait a little longer.”

             
Katelyn stood up from her chair then went to sit in his lap, making herself comfortable she leaned her head against his chest.  “I miss you already.”

             
He put his hand around her and rubbed her arm.  “Don’t think that.  We are together right now.”

             
“I know.  Be careful okay?”              

             
He smiled at her concern.  “I always am.”

             
She punched his side with her fist eliciting a grunt from him.  “Not good enough.  I want a promise.  I know that you always keep your promises.”

             
He glanced down to find she was already looking up at him, their eyes met.  “Do you want a promise that I will bring the Northmen, or that I will be careful?”

             
“Just promise me that you will come back to me,” she said earnestly.  He saw the seriousness in her eyes.  She wasn’t joking.

             
“I promise,” he told her just as seriously.

             
They stared at each other’s faces for a time.  Finally, unable to resist any longer, he leaned down and put his lips to hers.  He thought his heart would explode it was beating so fast. 

              Coran led his saddled black out into the shadow covered courtyard.  Devon followed with his gray mount and a yawn.  They were both dressed in armor which represented the seriousness of the journey on which they were about to embark.  At the center of the yard they mounted in the torch-lit darkness.  Guards stood by the half open gate, waiting to close it after they passed through.

             
“Didn’t you sleep?”  Coran asked his friend as he settled himself in the saddle.

             
“I slept some,”  Devon said embarrassed.

             
“Really?”

             
“Did you?”

             
It was his turn to blush.  “Some.”

             
Their mounts walked to the gates and stopped when he felt familiar eyes on his back.  Turning his horse he scanned the yard, and then upward to the balcony that overlooked them.   Two figures could be seen watching them.  He knew who they were.  Devon followed his eyes and saw them as well.  The two young men exchanged a quick glance, then as one they bowed from the saddle in the direction of the two ladies, wheeled their mounts around to face the gates with a dramatic flourish of their cloaks and rode off into the night.

Chapter 29

A Piece of Silver

             
Katelyn stood in front of the mirror as Alys finished buttoning up the back of her dress.  The new Queen of Summerhall wore a blue silk gown with gold along the collar and down the skirts.  Her hair was held together low down its length by a circle of gold.  That way nothing would be in the way when they placed the crown on her head.  “What have you discovered?” she asked the stiff standing Oran in his traditional black and silver.

             
He cleared his throat from where he waited by the door to the hall.  “I checked with the kitchen staff and am convinced it did not come from there.”

             
“Is Gelarus positive it had to be ingested?  Could the poison have gotten to him in another way?” she asked half turning around, but was jerked to a stop by Alys.

             
“Stand still.  I want to take a look at you.”  The brown haired girl stepped around her, smoothing the dress where it needed it.

             
“He is sure.  It must have been in his wine.”

             
“How could that happen?  All the wine is brought in unopened bottles, besides he has hardly had any in months, not after first getting sick,” she finished slowly.

             
“Are we sure it was not in his food?”  Alys brought up the question again. 

             
“Yes.  The cook was emphatic.  He prepared everything himself.  I did check him out to be sure and I believe him,” Oran stated confidently.

             
If it didn’t come from the kitchen then he was right, it had to be the wine.  Who could have gotten close enough to do it?  “I took his place at most of the meetings and he never drank while he met with people from outside the palace.  So it had to be someone inside the palace.”

             
“I thought of that and cleared the staff.  Most of those who serve the King directly are from the city and have family here.  I have not found out anything incriminating there as yet,” he said, and it sounded like he was getting to something.                                                                                                 “All done,”  Alys told her stepping back and taking her in from head to toe.

             
“How do I look?”  Katelyn asked.

             
“Perfect,”  Alys replied.  “We should be going.  It is almost noon.”

             
Katelyn turned and faced Oran.  “We can talk on the way.”

             
Outside Oran hesitated, he glanced both ways down the hall before catching up to them.  Their escort fell in behind with matching steps. 

             
“I thought Coran would be here,” the Lord of Tyelin stated with some concern.

             
Katelyn shared a knowing glance with Alys.  They were the only two people in Summerhall who knew where he was.  They hoped that was the case.  As agreed they were going to give them as much of a lead as possible before anyone found out.  When it came time where they had to give an answer they would say he was on his way to Tyelin.  She didn’t want to lie to anyone, but the alternative was too great a risk.  “I am sure he is around somewhere.  You were saying something about your investigation?” she said to change the subject.  They reached the doors to the great hall and stopped.

             
Two blue uniformed guards flanked the tall doors.  There were also four men in the armor and golden cloaks of the Knights of Soros.  Martin was one of them.  By custom and for caution they were to escort her up the aisle to the throne.

             
Master Herrith was waiting for them next to the doors as well.  “Are you ready, Your Majesty?” 

             
“In a moment.”  She turned to face Oran.  “You were saying?”

             
“Gelarus also believes that the poison was given to your father more than once.  That is why it was difficult to diagnose.”              

             
She was in a hurry and he was plodding his way towards something he was reluctant to say.  “Just say what you think happened.”

             
He nodded.  “I believe the assassin has to be someone we know well.  Probably very well.”

             
“Any idea who?” she asked in surprise.  Who did she know that could be capable of such a thing?  Everyone had loved her father, at least around here they did.  Oran had to be mistaken.

             
“I do not know yet,” he stated.  “I just thought you should be aware of it.”

             
She stared at the doors.  “Thank you.  Let me know when you have more.”  It was something to think about, but right now she had to deal with what was beyond the doors.  “Master Herrith.  I am ready.”

             
The bald headed man slipped through the doors and slowly the buzz of conversations died away.  Oran went inside as well to find a place to watch the ceremony.  Martin arranged his four in a square surrounding her as the doors swung ponderously outward.  She stepped into the hall and the silence in the room was total.

             
The hall was packed with all the gathered nobles of the Plain.  They lined the floor from wall to wall.  Only a narrow corridor ran up the center of the hall to the far side.  She stepped onto the blue carpet that ran up the open space to the dais and the throne at the far end.  She kept her face looking ahead, but could make out the people she passed.  They were all dressed in their finest for the occasion.  Women were adorned with sparkling diamonds and expensive jewelry.  Katelyn actually stood out with her modest appearance.  Not all were actually of noble blood.  Many were merchants or financiers who had wealth and power to match many.  Noble or not they watched on with approval as she walked regally forward in a measured pace that neither gained nor lagged on the two Knights she followed.  The people of the Plain took special pride in their King or Queen since they not only ruled the Plain, but headed the Alliance.  That was one reason for the success of Summerhall.  While other kingdoms had had their minor rebellions or disgruntled Lords, no one of the Plain had ever reneged on their oath, not since the Brother’s Rebellion anyway.  It had made the difference in larger wars of the past.

             
There were very few people in the hall with whom she was as tall, or taller than, and they were all women.  Yet when she saw their faces it appeared that they were looking up at her. 

             
She reached the end of the carpet and took the step up to the dais.  The arms and back of the throne were framed with gold and the seat and back were lined in blue.  She stopped before the seat and turned to gaze over the crowd.  Martin and his escort spread out to position themselves between the dais and the crowd.  They stood almost casually with hands crossed before them, but she knew Martin, they would be watching the crowd for any possible threat like circling hawks watching the ground for prey. 

             
She sat down on the throne that was her birthright.  Gelarus approached her left side from behind and Herrith from the right carrying a blue cushion with golden tassels.  The crown of Summerhall indented itself into the soft velvet.  It was a circle of pure gold sized for a woman.  Her father’s crown was taken into safe keeping until a High King sat once again on the throne.  The crown had five half circles that rose above the larger circle itself, each one had an etched sun on it.  The crown was not made to be ostentatious, so it was kept simple, without the adornment of jewels.  It was an old crown dating from the first woman to be born with the mark of the sun over eight hundred years ago.  Katarina Sundarrion had also been the spark that ignited the Suitor’s War.               Herrith and Gelarus met in front of her as well as the head of the Priests of the Light.  The priest took hold of the crown in both hands and raised it up.  Master Herrith backed away out of her sight. 

             
“By the will of the Creator you have been marked as the rightful heir to the High Throne of the Sun!” the Priest announced to the crowd.  He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.  “I crown thee Katelyn Sundarrion, High Queen of Summerhall!”  He set the golden crown carefully upon her head.  It was not as heavy as she thought it would be, but still it would take some getting used to.  The Priest backed away slowly.                           

             
Gelarus took a step forward, he bowed to the new Queen then turned toward the assemblage.  “Hail, Katelyn!” the wizard shouted in a voice that carried to the farthest corner of the hall. 

             
The gathered throng shouted their approval.  “Hail Katelyn!  Hail the Queen of Summer!”

             
The great cry shook the very walls.

              Next came the oaths of fealty in a ceremony as old as Summerhall, or maybe much older than that, as old as Midia.  One by one they came before her, the most powerful first.  They went to one knee, took her hand and swore their loyalty to the Queen.  Lord Thomas of Stockton knelt before her with a smile on his large face.  He was a slightly overlarge man with dark brown hair and a clean shaven face.  She remembered him as a kind man.  His oaths were sincere and filled with pride.  After him came the very distinguished looking Essander, Lord of Arryvestra.  He was followed by Terence Sundarrion of Delios, a good looking man with light hair and a twinkle in his eye.  Seftin Chassard of Ostis, a great lover of the sea and charged with the defense of the coast, bellowed his oath in the same tone he gave orders aboard ship.  Oran, who had already given his oath, did so again for all to see. 

             
After him came the next tier of Lords of the Plain;  Semprin Tertirian, a lean man who sported a warrior’s tail common among the mountain lords, the youthful Justin Darbonne, the elderly Harold Kontney, the pointy nosed Orvick Harthorn, Edwin Nicander with the sides of his head streaked with gray, the short, dark haired, dark eyed, Stefen Idalion whose appearance betrayed his Ithanian ancestry.

             
With them came their wives, the Ladies of the Plain; the sharp faced Maryssa Arryvestra, Lavonda Harthorn with eyes that seemed too close together, Sharella  Stockton with her striking blue-gray eyes, she was Thomas’ daughter, his wife being dead, curly haired Katrina Chassard who offered a sincere smile, Joyann Sundarrion who matched her husband in looking distinguished, and many more. 

             
After that the faces started to become a blur.              Most were respectful, many seemed pleased and a few outright happy.  A few Lords and Ladies later she faced the opposite.  Lord Meneroe, who had sent his daughter Alys here to learn the ways of court, had a beak of a nose on his unforgiving face.  His hair was speckled with gray and he wore a rich black coat over a white silk shirt.  His gaze was penetrating and she returned it in kind, her lips pressed tightly together.  His oath was barely audible and it sounded distant, uncaring, like he was reporting on the days revenues.  She was relieved when he finally released her hand and stepped down.

             
She was tired from sitting still as an hour turned into two.  With all the people there it was not unexpected to find that she did not recognize them all.  Some she would know by face or name alone.  The next man to come forward was one of those.  She was sure that she had never seen him before.  His clothes were of the finest tailoring, and his fingers were bedecked in  jeweled rings.  His hair was tied back in a tail.  As he started to kneel she noticed something odd about the man.  Offsetting his rich appearance were his eyes and the way he knelt.  It was not the practiced grace of the nobles who had proceeded him.  She saw his hand near his belt and knew what it held.

             
“Knife!” she shouted the first word that came to mind. 

             
The man hesitated for a fraction of a second at her shout, then lashed towards her with the knife.  She saw the glint of light that reflected off the steel point as it closed with her chest.  Martin reached him first.  He knocked them both to the ground in a tangled heap, they struggled over the knife.  One of the other Knights reached down and took it away from the attacker.  In a moment they had the man under control. 

             
She took a second to calm herself before speaking.  “Commander, take him somewhere to be questioned, and see to it that no one except you or I are allowed to see him.”  Martin put a fist to his chest and ordered two of his men to take the prisoner away.  She surveyed the stunned faces that peered back at her from around the hall.  This was not a time to show weakness, not after being freshly crowned.  “Let us continue,” she commanded and the next person in line, a woman with far too much rouge on her face stumbled over the step and nearly fell in kneeling. 

             
Katelyn kept her face blank, cool even, as the last of the nobles swore their oaths.  When they were done she stood to signify an end to the ceremony and closely escorted by Martin, left the hall.

              Loras saw the Knights guarding the room where their prisoner was being kept until he could be questioned.  The whole thing was unbelievable.  Who could have done such a thing?   He had been on edge himself for a long time and this just made it worse.  He had to know who was behind the attack.