Queen's Hunt (28 page)

The thought of Raul drove away all dreams.

She sat up. His mattress was empty. His clothes from the day before lay folded at the bottom, and the mattress showed signs he had slept beside her. The blankets themselves held none of his warmth, but a faint trace of Raul’s unmistakable scent lingered in the cloth, the same she had breathed in the night before in the deserted warehouse. It was like finding traces of a ghost.

Then she heard voices not far away—a man’s and a woman’s.

She crawled from the tent into the twilight. The ground was wet through, and more rain dripped from the trees. Clouds mottled the sky. A red smudge ran along the western horizon. She had slept the day through.

Raul sat alone with Valara Baussay by a low-burning fire in the center of the campsite. A kettle of venison stew hung from a metal rod, set between two stakes. There was also a pot of coffee set beside the fire to keep warm. It had a burnt smell, which told Ilse the others had been awake an hour at least. None of the guards were in the camp.

A bucket of water stood by the tent. Ilse rinsed her mouth and splashed more over her face. Then she approached the other two.

“Have you held a conference without me?” she asked.

Raul smiled tightly. “Hardly. You are the linchpin of our discussions, after all.”

His voice was high and edged. And Valara’s face was too deliberately bland.

“I am no linchpin,” she said. “Merely a participant.”

Raul smothered a laugh. Valara shook her head. Interesting.

Ilse took a seat on the third side of the campfire. Raul sorted through a collection of mugs, plucked the cleanest of them, and poured her a cup of coffee. She accepted it with caution. His mood was clearly sarcastic, Valara’s furious. It was easy to see they’d already had at least one unpleasant exchange.

“What have you decided so far?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Valara said.

“And everything,” Raul added.

Ilse sipped her coffee, which was bitter, and observed them both. Valara’s mouth was set in a hard, angry line. Raul appeared amused, but she read tension in the tilt of his head, the way he flexed his fingers as he refilled his own mug.

“Would you like to know what we’ve discussed?” he said to Ilse. “Your companion is not Károvín or Veraenen. Her accent confirms that. She claims to be Morennioù’s newest queen. An outrageous declaration, but let us accept it for now—”

“You said you wanted peace,” Valara broke in. “You lied.”

“How so?”

“If you truly wanted peace, you would not demand a price in return.”

Raul shrugged. “Our queen believes we should provide her with a ship on her word alone. To ask for any assurance is unreasonable.”

“I said nothing like that. You want too much.”

“I want your promise that you will not involve yourself in our wars.”

“And what if I refuse? Would you deliver me to Lord Khandarr?”

“No, to King Leos Dzavek.”

Ilse went still. The coffee roiled in her empty stomach. “Raul—”

“Hush,” he said. “Let me continue the part our queen expects.”

A role, then. Her misgivings, however, did not abate.

Valara was glaring at Raul. “You speak of treason to your own king.”

He seemed impervious to her rage. “I’ve committed treason already, by certain lights. I learned of your escape last week. And yet I said nothing to anyone in authority. If I had, you would be in Lord Khandarr’s gentle custody.”

A long pause followed while Valara studied Raul. The tattoos on her cheek and under her lips stood out against her pale brown skin. Ilse thought she saw traces of a third. Again, she wondered at their significance.

Finally, Valara said, “You mentioned the jewels before. Does that mean you are searching for them?”

“No. I wish to secure peace between my kingdom and Károví. The jewels are a hindrance.”

“Or a provocation,” Ilse murmured.

Raul shot her a keen glance. “Yes, or a provocation. They are rare and powerful objects, which any kingdom might find useful in war. Do you deny that?”

Valara’s eyes narrowed—almost an obvious clue to her thoughts, except that Ilse believed nothing obvious about this queen. Was she calculating the risks to any answer? Or possibly weaving a new and more plausible story?

“You wish me to be honest,” Valara said at last. “Very well. I have said we in Morennioù possess one of the jewels. I discovered it myself in Autrevelye—what you call Anderswar. It was last summer.”

Ilse suppressed a flinch of surprise. Last summer was the time when she and Raul had received disquieting news from their spies. Károví had begun naval maneuvers off the Kranjě islands. Not long thereafter, Dzavek had recalled high-ranking officers from Taboresk, Duszranjo, and Strážny. She glanced toward Raul, whose expression had not changed, but she knew the same thought would occur to him.

“Did Dzavek know of your discovery?” he asked.

Valara hesitated. “He did. But he did not know my identity until much later. That was when he launched a fleet of ships through Luxa’s Hand.”

“How?”

Another pause, almost undetectable, but Ilse was watching Valara closely. She did not think the woman was lying outright, but she suspected carefully selected gaps in her story.

“He used magic,” Valara said slowly. “Spells locked on the ships, which remained dormant until unleashed by a matching key. It— I am not certain I have the words to describe it, but those spells translated the ships and everything inside them to light.”

“You saw that?” Raul said sharply.

She shook her head. “I heard the soldiers talk about it, after they took me prisoner. One set for all twenty ships bound to Morennioù. Another set for those who returned.”

Ilse let her breath trickle out. So, Dzavek had found the means to break through the magical barrier set by Morennioù’s great mages three hundred years ago. It would require equally great magic to do that, but Leos Dzavek had the knowledge and skill—centuries of it.

Raul refilled his mug with more unpalatable coffee. Such a casual gesture, but Ilse thought she could read great tension underneath, like a panther that has sighted its prey. “Interesting,” he said mildly. “Leos Dzavek achieved what no other mage could these past three hundred years. Are you as skilled as he is?”

Valara’s gaze never wavered. “No.”

“Then how do you propose to return to your homeland? Unless you have Lir’s jewel and can use its magic to support your own.”

“I have no jewel with me,” Valara replied quickly. “It stays hidden in my homeland. The Károvín did not discover its presence, because we gave them a counterfeit wrapped in magic. This is what I told her before.” She nodded toward Ilse. “But with a good ship and crew, it is possible to circle around the barrier. Luxa’s Hand does not extend infinitely. I’ve studied the maps left by the old mages. Far south, near the great ice fields, the barrier ends.”

Raul sipped his coffee, grimaced, and set it aside. “A dangerous voyage.”

“Yes,” Valara said. “But remember, a fleet of ships and their soldiers remain in Morennioù, Lord Kosenmark. I might be queen, but I am a hunted queen, far from home and with the enemy at loose in my lands. That is the reason behind my desperation. So I ask again, will you give me passage home?”

Raul said nothing for a few moments. Ilse didn’t need a magical spell to read his mind. He was casting over what Valara told him, sifting through her words and silences for the truth.

“What about us?” he said at last. “More important, what about the third jewel?”

“What about it?” Valara asked in turn.

“You have one jewel. Leos Dzavek has recovered the second. Do not bother to deny it. I have confirmation from several trusted sources. So far you are well-matched. Veraene has nothing.”

“Not exactly nothing,” Valara replied. “You have tens of thousands of soldiers more than I. You have a mage councillor of great skill—”

“Leave him aside,” Raul said. “One jewel—one creature born of Lir’s breath and love and passion—that can overturn any advantage we have. We need a better assurance.”

“What kind of assurance? Your famous peace? Your word is not enough, Lord Kosenmark. You might say I have nothing to bargain with. But I would gladly bargain my life against my kingdom’s security.”

The firelight gave the other woman’s face a ruddy cast. Her eyes were like dark strokes of ink against a sheet of parchment, aged to the color of honey, her face like the face of stone monuments from ancient times. It was in that moment that Ilse saw why Valara was the heir and now queen. She did not speak empty words.

I have met this woman before, in lives past. Which ones?

She glanced toward Raul. He gave slight nod.
My turn,
Ilse thought.

“Are you ready for war, then?” she asked Valara. “Are you ready for all your people to die, not just you?”

Valara blinked at the question. “Why should that matter to you?”

“Peace matters to me. Unless we agree, Veraene faces a bloody, unnecessary war. Unless we agree, you face a thousand or more soldiers and mages from Veraene or Károví.”

“More threats,” Valara said. Her voice sounded rougher than before.

“No, merely observations about the risks following your decisions. You might believe that a war between Veraene and Károví protects you. It will, for a time. We haven’t ships or soldiers or mages enough to battle two kingdoms, especially one so far away as yours. Or you might believe that Morennioù could ally itself with either of us—”

“I don’t.”

Ilse tilted her hand to one side. “Then you believe that Lir’s Veil protects you. Also wrong. Morennioù is no longer the lost kingdom. One fleet of ships found a way through the Veil. Others will follow. War here simply means a delay.”

Valara stared at Ilse a long moment. “So what do you propose?” she said at last.

“A balance between the kingdoms,” Ilse said. “You pledge to keep Morennioù neutral. Lord Kosenmark gives you passage home, and pledges to use his influence to forestall any difficulties between our kingdom and yours.”

Valara frowned. “A pledge of influence? From a man dismissed from court? I cannot—”

“And I give myself to you as a hostage,” Ilse said.

A thick silence dropped over the campsite. Ilse wasn’t certain why she had offered herself. It was impulse, and the knowledge that unless Valara gained a true advantage over Raul, she would never agree to anything he proposed.

But the sight of Raul’s masklike expression was like a knife stroke.

She drew a breath. “Let me explain.”

“Please do,” Raul whispered.

“Yes,” Valara said. “You would offer yourself as my hostage. How does that benefit me?”

“Two ways. You are assured that Lord Kosenmark will keep his promises. And you may use my presence should you need to bargain with Armand of Angersee and Lord Khandarr. King Leos remains your concern. In return, you will offer us all assistance to recover Lir’s third jewel.”

Valara stared at Ilse. Again Ilse had the impression of a hunting fox—and that impression strengthened when the other woman drew her lips drew back from her teeth. “I agree.”

A longer pause followed before Raul said, “I would like to discuss certain points with Mistress Ilse before I pledge my word. Please,” he said, cutting off Valara’s incipient protest. “You will have weeks or months to discuss the matter with her. I require only until tomorrow.”

Valara shrugged. “Very well. Let me know in the morning what you decide.”

She stood and deliberately turned away, toward the rows of tents. Ilse watched silently until the woman disappeared into the closest one. All the while, she sensed Raul’s unhappiness, his tense stillness, as he waited for her to speak again.

It had been the logical move, she told herself. The only one that gave Raul the advantage he needed against Armand and Khandarr. Valara had studied the jewels. She knew enough to rediscover one. And though Dzavek had taken the second, she must have clues to where the third one lay. If Veraene controlled that one, they could achieve a true balance between the kingdoms—a dangerous one, if any king or queen decided to risk all, to gain all. She did not think that Leos Dzavek would do so, nor Valara Baussay, in spite of her bravado.

“You made a risky throw,” Raul said.

He spoke softly, his voice more like a woman’s than ever.

“I had no choice,” Ilse said.

“Liar,” he whispered.

At that, she had to meet his gaze. “I am not lying,” she answered, as softly as he. “I am not running away. But if we do not give this queen some advantage, she would die before she agreed to any pact with us.”

“You said she lies.”

“She does,” Ilse said. “That is why I offered myself—to ensure our part of the bargain. She will search for the third jewel, whether I go with her or not, you know. She is a great deal like Leos Dzavek. They both want all three, and not just for practical reasons.”

An image of Dzavek’s face flickered through her memory. She shivered, thinking of the similarities between him and the Morenniouèn queen.

“A risk.” Firelight and shadows made Raul’s smile deeper than it really was.

“Somewhat,” she agreed. “Do you see a better course?”

“That is the simplest question I’ve answered today. A better course would let me spend the rest of my days with you. No more hiding. No more pretense. But,” he went on, his voice high and soft, “that course is not one I’m offered.”

“You aren’t arguing with me,” she observed.

“No.” She could hear the briefest catch on that word. “No, I am not your master. I make no cages for you, not even ones of words and wishes.” Then he said, “I love you. I have not said that enough lately.”

Her throat closed. She had to swallow before she could speak. “We haven’t had much opportunity.”

“No, we haven’t. Would you like to change that?”

His voice turned rougher, deeper. It was more than desire that tugged at her. It was … a sense of completeness in his company. More, because she could tell from a myriad of details that her presence wrought the same effect on him.

We need each other.

And she had just consigned herself to yet another, longer absence.