Fire of the Soul (35 page)

“If he thinks the Emerald is on the ship,”
Garit objected, “he’ll do whatever damage to it that he’s capable
of inflicting.”

“All the more reason for us to distract him,”
Durand said.

Anders had just completed a long farewell
embrace with Mairne. He sent the weeping girl up the gangplank and
continued to watch as Mairne turned to wave to him. Suddenly,
Mairne’s expression changed from sorrow into alarm. She uttered a
hastily smothered scream and pointed to the city.

Guessing what had frightened Mairne, Calia
whipped around. “I didn’t think he’d find us so quickly,” she
whispered.

A lone figure was riding a large black
stallion directly toward the dock. Mallory came at a leisurely
trot, as if he felt no sense of urgency.

“Why is he so calm?” Calia asked. “Does he
have his people hidden in the nearby streets and alleys? Or does he
intend to play with us first, before he unleashes his Power?”

“Hurry it up, there!” Garit shouted to his
men-at-arms, who were still urging their horses up the second,
cargo gangplank and into the ship’s hold. “Get the baggage aboard
now!
Captain Pyrsig, cast off the lines as soon as you
possibly can.”

“I’m doin’ me best, laddie.” Captain Pyrsig
stood on the deck with Fenella’s hand tucked into his elbow. He
detached himself from her with ill-concealed reluctance. “Lady
Elgida, will ye be good enough to take yer companions below? If
there’s goin’ to be a fight, ye’d best be stowed safely away where
ye can’t be seen.

“Here, now, boys!” he yelled at Belai and
Kinen, who had been wandering amongst the ropes and folded sails,
investigating their surroundings with great curiosity. “On a ship
ye must obey the captain’s orders, or else ye’ll be thrown
overboard. Get below. I’m puttin’ ye in charge of keepin’ the
ladies safe.”

With surprising alacrity Belai took his
grandmother’s arm and Kinen grabbed Sundaria’s hand. Within a
heartbeat all of the passengers except one disappeared through the
hatchway that led to the cabins. Only Mairne lingered to watch
Anders.

“My friends,” Durand said, “I suggest we line
up across the dock and do our best to prevent Mallory from reaching
the ship.”

“He doesn’t have to
reach
the ship.”
Garit’s tone was grim. “He can use his Power.”

“If he does, we’ll fight Power with Power,”
Durand said.

“You?” Calia gaped at him in surprise. Then,
“Of course. You did say something days ago.”

“You are not the only soul who learned at an
early age to control the Power and to use it only in the most dire
circumstances.” Durand’s grin was wicked.

“I learned to control it so well that I’ve
never used it at all,” Calia answered.

“Then this encounter should prove most
interesting.” Durand looked as if he was looking forward to
matching his Power against Mallory’s. His gaze shifted to the
approaching figure. “Our adversary will be here in a few
moments.”

“I possess no Power, but I can provide a
physical defense against him,” Garit offered, drawing his
sword.

“So can I.” Anders unsheathed his squire’s
blade and took up his position next to Garit.

The four of them spread out across the dock
with their backs to the ship where Captain Pyrsig was issuing his
final orders about loading the baggage.

“I wish they would cast off and leave,” Calia
muttered.

“Not until Captain Pyrsig is sure all of the
cargo has been secured,” Garit told her. “He won’t want the horses
crashing about below when the ship encounters the first sea waves,
breaking their legs or panicking and hurting the men who are
tending to them.”

They had no time for further discussion.
Mallory was upon them. He paused just a short distance away. To
Calia’s surprise, he did not dismount. Instead, he leaned forward
with a movement that she’d have thought was relaxed, if she hadn’t
known him so well. He made an impressive figure in his glittering
black and silver tunic and black hose and boots, with his sword
sheathed in silver and black metal.

Then Calia noticed that his long, elegant
hands were dirty and his rich clothing appeared to be wrinkled. He
was close enough that she could smell the stench of rotting food
emanating from him. That was odd. Mallory always made a point of
being clean and neat, attributes he saw as signs of nobility that
set him far above the common folk, who were usually dirty and
disheveled from their honest work.

Calia decided to use his quirk against
him.

“Well, Sister,” Mallory drawled, his smile
decidedly unpleasant, “what have you been doing?”

“I was just wondering the same thing about
you. I have never seen you quite so unkempt. Have you been playing
in a garbage pile?” The taunt was her initial thrust in an attempt
to distract Mallory from what was happening aboard
The Kantian
Queen.
Disgust at the way he’d beaten Fenella coupled with the
sure knowledge of what he’d do to any or all of the passengers on
the ship if they fell into his hands kept her spine rigid and her
voice icy cold and very calm.

Mallory’s reaction was startling, for Calia
fully expected him to use his Power on her, as he had done in her
youth whenever she dared to defy him. This time Mallory sat
perfectly still on his horse. He appeared to be studying her.

“I have been told that you are holding
something I want,” he finally said.

“Really?” Calia knew he didn’t mean, as
another man would have meant, his wife and stepchildren. Wanting to
keep his attention on her and to delay any action on his part for
as long as possible she continued, “Whoever would suggest such a
thing about me? Surely you are aware that I possess nothing but a
few pieces of clothing. Anyone who knows me, knows that.”

“You always were stupid,” Mallory said with a
grimace that hinted at barely restrained impatience. When he
continued, his voice held an implicit threat that Calia immediately
recognized. “I will say it again, Sister. You were recently given
something that ought to be mine. Hand it over before I—”

“Before you what?” Garit interrupted. “What
are you talking about? Speak plainly, Mallory.”

“Very well. Calia, I want the item that Queen
Laisren gave you. Hand it over.”

“What item?” Calia asked as innocently as she
could manage.

“You are wasting my time. Give it to me.”
Mallory held out his hand in an imperious gesture.

Calia had often seen his hand extended just
that way during her childhood. If she didn’t do what he wanted and
if their father was visiting Catherstone, Mallory would report
Calia to him and she’d be punished. If Walderon wasn’t at home,
Mallory would use his Power on her. That was what he was
threatening now. She marveled that she was still standing, still
daring to challenge him. She was even more amazed that he’d argue
with her instead of unleashing his Power.

“If I knew what you want, I could tell you
whether I have it or not,” she said. Behind her, she could hear
Captain Pyrsig still shouting orders. She wished he’d hurry and set
sail. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could play the delaying
game with Mallory, whose patience was notoriously short. Yet she
sensed a hesitation in him, a reluctance that puzzled her.

“You know very well what I want.” In a
movement that was strangely awkward Mallory swung down from his
horse. He drew his sword slowly. “Do not make me use this,
Calia.”

“If you plan to wield a blade against your
sister, you will have to deal with Anders and me,” Garit told him,
lifting his own sword.

Anders moved closer to Calia on her other
side, while Durand, who was positioned a little behind his friends,
assumed a relaxed stance with his sword held almost negligently, as
if he didn’t expect violence.

“I will not ask you again,” Mallory said to
Calia. “As for you, Garit, never imagine you can seize what belongs
to me.”

“I am tired of repeating that I do not want
Kinath,” Garit said, his words telling Calia that he was playing
the game of delay, too.

“I wasn’t talking about Kinath,” Mallory
sneered at him. “I was speaking of Calia, of your lover. Has Durand
had her, too? And your squire as well?”

“You insult your own sister,” Garit
exclaimed. “Have you no honor?”

“Garit, don’t,” Calia cried. “He’s
deliberately trying to make you angry.”

“Indeed.” Mallory spoke over Calia’s warning.
“I fear I have no sense of honor at all. Never have had, in fact.
The circumstance of my birth, you know. Illegitimacy is not
conducive to knightly illusions.”

“I’ve known illegitimate men who were
honorable knights,” Durand remarked quietly.

Calia thought Durand was trying to deflect
Mallory’s growing impatience. Instead, Durand’s words interrupted
Garit’s concentration on his opponent. In the instant when Garit
moved his head slightly, Mallory swung his sword in a great,
slashing motion. He would have beheaded Garit if Anders hadn’t
brought his blade up to meet Mallory’s.

“You fool! Out of my way!” Mallory swung
again, striking Anders on his sword arm and then, with another
vicious stroke, cutting his thigh open.

Garit had already entered the fray, with
Durand beside him. Together they fought a frenzied, swearing
Mallory.

With a cry of fear, Calia bent to help
Anders. At the same moment Mairne ran down the gangplank to throw
herself on her lover’s body.

“Winn!” Calia shouted, seeing the man-at-arms
on deck. “Help us! Get Anders aboard. He’s wounded.”

Winn charged down the gangplank, scooped
Anders up, and tossed him over his shoulder.

“I’ll see to him. Come on, Mairne, move your
feet.” Winn ran back to the ship with Mairne close by his side,
weeping and talking to Anders all the way.

“Calia.” Suddenly, Laisren was there on the
dock, though Calia hadn’t noticed her coming. She held out a hand.
“Link with me. Durand, you, too.” Summoning Durand to a different
kind of battle, Laisren reached her other hand toward the man who
was still fighting Mallory with his sword.

Laisren spoke softly, as if she didn’t want
Mallory to hear her. Garit continued to engage Mallory at
sword-point and, to Calia’s amazement, her brother looked tired.
She had only a moment to wonder about that bewildering oddity among
the other strange aspects of Mallory’s behavior since he’d reached
the dock.

Then she felt Laisren’s Power and understood
that they weren’t just going to fight Mallory.
The Kantian
Queen
was at last ready to leave the dock and Laisren
immediately bent their linked strength to the task of hastening the
departure.

The ship shimmered, wavered, and vanished
from human sight, yet Calia, joined to the queen’s mind through
their mutual Power, knew it was sailing out of the harbor to the
open sea and safety. She also understood that the ship would remain
invisible to any lurking pirates until it reached Port Moren,
though to those aboard it was completely visible and sailing along
quite normally.

Ensuring the safety of
The Kantian
Queen
required an enormous expenditure of Power, yet Laisren
never faltered and Calia did not begrudge the draining of her own
strength. She knew that Durand felt the same way, that he, too,
would give all of his strength to aid the queen in saving the
people on that ship.

Calia gradually became aware that Garit was
winning his swordfight with Mallory, who was looking more and more
exhausted. Garit had wounded him on one arm, opening a small gash
from which a surprising amount of blood dripped onto the stone
dock. Mallory slipped on his own blood and slid off the dock and
into the water. He hadn’t made a sound. Garit walked to the edge
and peered down.

“Is he gone?” Garit asked in obvious
bewilderment. “Just like that? Defeated by so small a wound?”

“No.” Laisren released Calia and Durand’s
thoughts when she let go of their hands. Calia sensed she was still
protecting
The Kantian Queen
and would continue to do so for
days to come. But the initial effort was completed. The ship and
its passengers were safe.

“Mallory is not gone,” Laisren said. “Nor is
he badly wounded. See how the blood has already disappeared from
the stone. It, and Mallory’s apparent fall were illusions. He is
using what remains of his Power to hide himself.”

“What remains?” Calia cried. “What are you
saying?”

“We had a confrontation earlier today,”
Laisren explained. “As a result, Mallory’s Power has been severely
depleted.”

“That explains why he was so slow,” Calia
said, “and why he resorted to using his sword.”

“Yes.” Laisren nodded agreement. “He will
need a long time to recover. So will poor Dyfrig.”

“Mallory harmed the king to whom he has sworn
fealty?” Durand exclaimed, sounding as if he couldn’t believe
it.

“I must return to the palace as soon as
possible,” Laisren said. “Dyfrig will need me. So will Euric, I
think. And Ilona. Durand, you and Calia look worn out. Come back to
the palace with me now. You need to rest before you can think of
departing for Tannaris. Besides, if you know what is happening here
in Kerun City, you can report the news to my father when you see
him.”

“Let’s go, then.” Garit spoke in a voice
slightly louder than usual. “Queen Laisren, you may ride my horse
if you like, and I will ride the animal Anders was forced to leave
behind. I assume no one will want to sit upon Mallory’s beast.”

“Certainly not,” Laisren said, turning a look
of approval on him. “Take the horse’s bridle and lead it back to
the palace. I have men in the stables who will know how to handle
it and how to drain it of whatever wicked Power Mallory may have
inflicted on the poor creature.”

“Come on, now, Calia,” Garit ordered, still
in that loud voice. “I’ll help you to mount. I’ll feel better once
you are safe within the palace walls.”