SanClare Black (The Prince of Sorrows) (18 page)

“
And Abbess Ethene’s healing?”

Michael
bit his lip again, feeling wrung out and sick and empty. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“
You don’t know,” Sirra Avram echoed.

“
No, sirra. I thought it was a miracle from Vail. I didn’t think it was wrong to help someone get well, but I didn’t think it could be anything but a miracle. How could I do anything like that by myself?”

“
Indeed,” Sirra Avram said, an eyebrow raised. “And you never thought it might be magic?”

Michael
hesitated. “The first time, with Cyra, I thought it might be. But then I thought that magic was evil and helping someone couldn’t be evil. I thought it must be the will of Vail.”

“
The first time?” Avram prompted.

“
Cyra’s a cat,” Michael said. “She’d been hurt by some kiska—by some boys. I thought she was dying. She was bleeding pretty badly. But then I felt kind of funny, and the next thing I knew, she was well. It scared me.”

“
So you guessed it wasn’t magic,” Avram said.

“
Yes, sirra. I didn’t think it could be anything bad.”

“
But at first even you thought it might be magic.”

Michael
’s mouth went dry. “Yes, sirra,” he rasped. “At first.”

“
And you did it anyway.”

“
It seemed to be what Vail wanted me to do.”

“
You
guessed
it was a miracle. It
seemed
to be the will of Vail. You
thought
it couldn’t be evil! Did you never think to ask your betters? Did it never occur to you that something so dangerous should not be decided by such a one as you: an amnesiac, kiska child?”

The sudden harshness of the
magistrate’s voice made Michael stare at the man. He felt as if he’d been slapped again, and the comprehension that his foolish, trusting honesty had sealed his fate ran through his body like ice water. Judgment had been passed, and only a true miracle could save him now.

Whiltierna
interrupted the silence that had awaited Michael’s answer. “Sirra, I would speak for this child.”

“
You have nothing to say, Nanna Whiltierna.” Sirra Avram waved a dismissive hand toward the woman. “You were not present for any of the events under consideration here.”

“
But I saw him after he left Magister Vaznel. I took him to Landsend Charity myself. The healers said—”

“
And how soon after he left Magister Vaznel did you see him? Hours? Days? Anything might have happened in the meantime. He might have done himself injury in order to ruin Magister Vaznel’s defense. No, Nanna. I cannot allow you to plead your feelings as facts.”

Avram turned away from Whiltierna, shifting his attention back to Robyn and dismissing her as completely as if he
’d said the words.

“
Robyn Vaznel, for your part in this child’s corruption, I fine you one thousand crowns to be paid to the Order of JhaPel. You are also forbidden to set foot in Fensgate for the next twenty moons. I shall have you escorted to Fensgate Bridge as soon as arrangements are made to Abbess Mabbina’s satisfaction for the fine’s payment.”

“
Yes, sirra.” Robyn bowed his head.

“
In light of the fact that your actions may not have been entirely of your own volition, I mitigate your sentence by forbidding any within this chamber from ever speaking of this incident. Your name shall bear no taint of this event. Once the fine is paid and so long as you avoid Fensgate for the next twenty moons, it shall be as if it never happened. If you fail to comply with either of these punishments, I shall see to it that your ignominy is published throughout Camarat and shall personally see to it that the queen is aware of your actions.”

“
Thank you, sirra,” Robyn whispered. “I shall not fail to do as you command.”

“
Please, sirra!” Whiltierna rose from her chair. “I’ve known this child since he first came to us. He is not evil! I would swear it before Vail Herself! Please, don’t do this to him!”

The
magistrate gave a curt nod to his secretary who rose and crossed to Michael’s side. The boy still stood, staring at Avram, shocked by the utter waste of effort his speaking the truth had been. The man took hold of his arms, gently enough but too securely for there to be any chance that Michael might escape him. He had only vague impressions of feelings—no thoughts—and realized he was too stunned to sense much of anything.

This isn
’t happening please this isn’t happening please they wouldn’t really do this please Vail please—!

The secretary
guided the boy over to the fireside, and Whiltierna screamed. Michael craned his neck to find her and saw Mabbina and Sirra Avram’s other secretary, who’d materialized from somewhere, holding Whiltierna back though she struggled against them.

“
No, sirra! Don’t do this!” Her scream went ragged at the end, and she dissolved into wracking sobs.

A hand caught
Michael’s chin and pulled his attention back to the fire. Sirra Avram stood before him, his hand dropping away from Michael’s face. He was as expressionless as he’d been during most of the testimony, but his eyes were filled with an odd light.

“
Michael, kiska. I find you guilty of the charges against you. Do you understand what that means?”

Michael
stared into the magistrate’s frightening eyes for a long, silent moment, before managing to make his response.

“
Yes, sirra.” He’d seen what happened to witches. Mabbina had made certain he knew the punishment for this ultimate sin.

I was so stupid.

“
Have you anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence?”

.:
You did nothing wrong! Healing is a miracle. A gift from Vail!
:.

A
thousand pleas crowded in Michael’s throat, but he wanted to believe the Voice. As he stood frozen, trying to organize some sort of reply, an unfamiliar, angry pride welled up from somewhere deep inside of him and stiffened his backbone. All the pleas faded away. He lifted his chin and raised a defiant eyebrow, never looking away from the magistrate’s eyes.

Sirra Avram
blinked then looked away, abruptly and obviously flustered.

“
By the laws of Her Gracious Majesty Queen Grania of Camarat, I find you guilty of heresy in the second magnitude.” He turned toward the fire, pulling on a heavy cloth glove, and selected one of the long pieces of metal that had been heating there since before Michael and Whiltierna’s arrival.

“
By the Queen’s Mercy, your life is spared this last time. Any new offense against the laws of the queen or of Vail, and your punishment shall be death by fire. So that all may know the evil you have committed and the mercy by which you continue to live, the queen has ordered that those guilty of your crime be branded with the symbol of the witch. You are required never to hide this symbol lest you be found guilty of your final offense.”

The secretary held
Michael’s left arm out from his side, his strong fingers encircling the boy’s slender wrist and holding his arm and hand still. Sirra Avram pressed the glowing, red-hot brand against the back of Michael’s left hand at the base of the thumb.

Michael
tried not to scream, rasping in air as if breathing his last breath. That breath turned into an odd, animalistic moan as he went limp in the secretary’s arms. He felt something run down his leg and realized he’d wet himself.

Let me die please let me die now please let me die please
—

.:
Hold on! You have to hold on!
:.

“
Leave me alone!” Michael struggled free of the secretary’s hands. He’d thought the brand was still being held against his hand, but he saw that it was back in the fire. His hand still burned as if the magistrate had set it in the fire, too, and if he’d thought it would end his agony, Michael would have cut it off.

T
hough the room still whirled around him, and he thought he might throw up at any moment, he refocused and found himself sitting sprawled on the floor of the magistrate’s office. He searched dazedly for the magistrate, determined to look one last time into the eyes of the man who had committed this injustice.

A faint glint of revenge winked in his brain when he saw the man
’s disquieted face.

“
I told the truth, Sirra Avram.” Michael choked out the words. “May Vail judge you the way you’ve judged me.”

“
Blasphemy,” Mabbina gasped.

“
Take him outside and leave him in the street,” Avram ordered, but he did not look as certain as he had at first. Michael guessed it was all the justice he was likely ever to have.

“
Don’t believe them!” Whiltierna shouted as the Magistrate’s secretaries carried out their master’s orders. “You are not evil! Never believe that, Michael! Never!”

# # #

CHAPTER TWELVE

“I wish they could get the trains running everywhere,” Flannery said, her eyes still bright with excitement from the experience.

The train from Karona City to SouthPort only took two days.
Jarlyth almost wished he’d never boarded the damned thing in the first place.
It will make the rest of the trip seem interminable.

The southwestern part of Serathon, however, had offered the only stretch of land both untouched by the Raids and flat enough not to need wizardly assistance during the building.
Even so, it had taken years to complete.

They gathered up their packs from the baggage car and caught
a series of three trolleys to reach the docks. There, the next leg of Jarlyth’s “mad quest,” as everyone called it, would begin.

My
“insane waste of time.”
With King Teodor’s complete and very public abandonment of Nylan’s cause, help had been hard to muster. Everything had taken longer than it should have, and each delay only made Jarlyth feel more useless. He’d been silent and morose during the entire train ride and now felt foolish for allowing himself to behave in a way he considered so childish.

Flannery, who
’d learned to recognize his tumbles into bitter self-recrimination, tapped him with her pack to catch his attention. “We’re here,” she said.

They leapt for the street
, packs banging against them as they ran to a stuttering stop. Once they figured out which way to go, they rushed on, crossing the cobbled street ahead of oncoming traffic. Shouts and brassy squawks from cart-horns called abuse after them. Flannery turned and gave a small, apologetic bow.

“
I haven’t been back home since I was seven.” She changed the subject almost as if she knew his thoughts.

She might as well think so.
They’re always the same thoughts.

“
I’ve never been at all. I’ve always wanted to meet Queen Tristella.”

Flannery
lips curved up slightly into a tiny smile. “She is a force of nature. I think you will like her.”

Tristella had done her best to care for Nylan from a distance.
Politics and the instability of the shipping lanes, thanks to the Raids, had prevented her from ever risking travel to Serathon herself—even for her daughter’s funeral. But it would not keep Jarlyth from taking ship to see her.

Flannery had
surprised him by wanting to go along. She’d only just achieved her journeyman status as a Templar and, without telling Jarlyth, had begged leave of her superiors to go with Jarlyth to Voya. She said it proved that not everyone stood against him when her request was granted so speedily.

They booked passage on the next ship bound for Voya and clambered aboard just before it made sail.
Had the ship possessed a steam engine such as the one powering the train, the travel time from shore to shore would have been cut at least in half, but the Breach played havoc with any and all advanced technology—even that powered by magic—so with sails they must be satisfied.

Jarlyth did not travel well by water, and he stayed in his cabin below-decks as much as he could to hide from well-intentioned advice and teasing.
All the while Flannery had the run of the ship. She kept up with her advanced studies, learned how to climb the masts in order to stay in fighting shape, ran through all her sword-work every day as if the ship’s deck were solid ground, and failed to realize several of the younger officers had fallen in love with her. Jarlyth almost hated her but was too busy throwing up or trying not to.

By the time they reached the famously-bustling port of
Toharana Vail, the Voyan capital city, Jarlyth had lost more than a stone, and his clothes hung off of him as if he’d been starved.

Nylan was starved.
It killed him to think it, and he looked out at the city as a distraction. He couldn’t allow himself to collapse under the weight of his continued failure.

Voya was renowned throughout the world for the peace that prevailed there.
Jarlyth imagined this had something to do with the fact that Voyan kings and queens ruled for centuries, blessed with exceptional long life—another gift from Vail Herself. Tristella had been on the throne of Voya for over two centuries and had been alive for quite a bit longer.

She lived through the fall of the One Kingdom.
He couldn’t remember if it was said she’d seen the world before the Breach tore through it.
That would be something to have seen.

They found a hotel and sent word to the palace.
Bairbre and Flannery had gone to the Voyan Embassy in Karona City in order to get the proper letters of introduction, though Bairbre had doubted this step would be necessary.

“
As if she’d turn you away, Jary, for not having the correct paperwork.”

“
It’ll ease things, in case her staff protects her as well as Teodor’s sometimes does,” he’d replied. Bairbre hadn’t argued with that.

Far from standing on ceremony, the queen herself arrived at their hotel the very next morning.
Flannery stood at the window of their connecting parlor, watching the royal carriage as she called for Jarlyth to come and see.

Queen Tristella, dressed in what appeared to be a riding habit, jumped down from the carriage, giving her footman
’s hand a pat as she did so. They could overhear faintly the hellos and comments called out to the queen by passersby and the easy answers she gave them.

“
She certainly doesn’t stand apart from the public like Teodor does,” Jarlyth said. Flannery just smiled and shook her head.

Nylan would love it here.

A harried-looking servant arrived and announced the queen, barely beating the woman herself to their parlor door.

She swept in and hurried across the room to Flannery whom she caught in an enthusiastic embrace.
“Mouse! Oh, my little Mouse! How you have grown!”

Flannery
’s smile reached her eyes, and she blushed prettily. “No one’s called me that but Mum in years, Majesty.” She gave a very formal bow better-suited to her Templar uniform than a Court curtsy would have been.

“
None of that, now.” The queen stepped back to take a good look at her expatriate subject. “Oh, but you do take after both your parents. I see your father in your eyes.”

“
Thank you, Majesty.” The girl bowed again.

The queen turned and fixed her beautiful, direct gaze on Jarlyth at last.
He could see where Nylan’s loveliness came from.

All the pictures he
’d seen of Vedalanna had portrayed a considerable beauty, though his one in-person meeting with her had not shown her at her best—but Tristella’s looks—all long, bronze-colored hair and golden-hazel eyes—outshone even her daughter’s.
But I think Nylan might one day outshine his grandmother.

In the way of the Voyavels, she didn
’t show even a tenth of her true age. She looked maybe twenty; just old enough to be Flannery’s elder sister.
This is Nylan’s destiny.

Vail, I
’m so tired.
He was glad she didn’t seem to expect any sort of ceremony or even normal ritual from him. He wasn’t sure he could manage even the proper “Your Majestys” at this point.

Tristella spoke, focusing his attention once more.
“Lord Jarlyth Denara, Knight Templar and Warder to Crown Prince Nylan Voyavel SanClare of Voya.” She said this as if she were introducing him at a ball. “I have been waiting a very long time to meet you. Where have you been?”

He bowed to her, careful not to tumble over from the leftover affects of his sea-sickness.
“I had hoped His Majesty King Teodor would continue his support of the search, but—”

Tristella
narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, looking like a child imitating a disapproving dowager. “Teodor is so determined to be hurt and angry over Veda’s inconstancy—which, I will assure you, she never was. He knew from the start she loved another, but he wanted her to love him and so married her anyway.”

She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing even more, then she turned back with a too-bright smile.
“Sit down. Both of you. Jarlyth, you look so tired.”

“
He’s barely slept.” Flannery obeyed the queen’s request, sitting down in one of the overstuffed chairs with great dignity and seeming surprised and quietly delighted by its bounce. “He gets sea-sick.”

“
I don’t know of many Sensitives who don’t. Something to do with the way magic moves through the water. Troubling to your senses, I’m told.”

She fussed around Jarlyth like the grandmother she was rather than like the girl she seemed and called for weak tea and crackers to settle him while she and Flannery ordered themselves a more robust morning meal.

They sat and talked of nothing for awhile. The queen watched him over the rim of her cup.
Weighing my worth.

“
SouthPort has a train now?” She seemed impressed by this, though her own country was crisscrossed by them. “Last time I was in Serathon, SouthPort was barely a port.”

Flannery
eyes widened in surprise at this, too, though Jary only noticed because he was so attuned to her subtle expressions. But Jary didn’t mind asking the question. “When were you in Serathon, Majesty?”

“
Tris will do, Jary. If I may call you that?”

Jarlyth balked.
“You may call me what you wish, Majesty, but—”

“
Is Tris too informal?” She turned to Flannery, her eyes wide.

“
You shouldn’t tease him, Your Majesty,” the girl said, disapproving. “He’s so tired.”

Tristella laughed.
“I am admonished, dear Mouse. Senna, then,” she offered, turning back to Jarlyth. “A nice, normal honorific for an ordinary woman.”

Though she teased and enthused and bustled, at her center, she was utterly calm
and unruffled and steady. Jarlyth had never met anyone like her.

“
And I was in Serathon back when the only people who called it that lived there. It was all just the One Kingdom or whatever county you happened to be in—Lyra or Karona or Rataque or what-have-you. Serathon was its old name, dating back before the One Kingdom. They brought it back into use only after Savoni split the realm.”

“
Then you were there during the war?” Flannery pressed.

Tristella opened her mouth to reply, then narrowed her eyes again.
Jarlyth thought it must be a habitual expression of concentration or thought.

She held up a finger to stay their questions and slipped a chain from around her neck and held out the stone dangling from it.

“
Silence,” she intoned. Then she relaxed back into her chair and pulled her feet up under her skirts, looking as calm and centered without as she had seemed to be within, and much more relaxed than she had since her arrival.

Surprised, Jarlyth said,
“I didn’t know you were a wizard, Senna.”

She gave him an indulgent smile.
“Not at all. This is a charm made for me by my wizards. It ensures privacy within a comfortable radius. We may speak openly now.”

Flannery
raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t we before?”

“
There’s open and then there’s open,” Tristella replied. “But we were speaking about the war. The Third Blood War, to be precise. And, yes. I was in Serathon then, but not during the war exactly.”

Jarlyth and Flannery exchanged glances, and she caught them and smiled again.
“I was there right before it broke out. I was rather stuck in Karona City for its first few moons, until finally King Galen’s spymaster managed to smuggle me past the blockade. What an adventure!”

She knew King Galen
—She must’ve known Valorian, then. The Prince of Charms. Nylan wanted that to be his prince-name. And it should have been.

“
You were awfully young to have traveled so far from Voya,” Flannery said.

“
Says the child who left her homeland at age three!” But the queen sighed, her hand opening as if to release something. “You are correct, though. It’s true. I was born very late in my father’s reign. He didn’t know how much longer I’d have before inheriting. He feared I’d be too young, and that Voya would be destroyed by invaders or dissension within due to my youth and inexperience.

“
So I was sent to the One Kingdom to marry.”

Jarlyth
gaped at her and saw that both of Flannery’s eyebrows were now raised—a sign of strong surprise, indeed. Neither had ever heard this story before.

“
Marry?” Jarlyth exclaimed at the very moment Flannery blurted out, “Which one?”

Lucky she
’s laughing.

“
Savoni. My Prince of Sorrows.” She waited for their fresh shock to subside before she continued.