Sing the Four Quarters (25 page)

"Unenclosed guards are never around when you need 'em."

"Ain't it the truth." Annice pulled her hands out of Pjerin's loosened grip and flexed the fingers to make sure they still worked. "Come on." She reached up and slapped him gently on both cheeks. "Let's catch that ride to Vidor."

"Well, Captain?"

Years of practice kept Liene's voice and facial expression totally noncommittal although below the surface calm her thoughts churned. "The trail does lead to Bardic Hall, Majesty, but we should consider the possibility that it was made by other than a bard."

Theron stared across the desk at her, his hair and clothing bearing mute testimony to his explorations within the walls.

"Do you honestly believe that, Captain?"

She frowned. "Not for a moment, Majesty."

"Then let's leave the realm of fairytales behind, shall we, and cut right to the facts." He raised a grimy finger. "One: the passageways through the palace are not exactly secret and have long been explored by the younger members of the royal family. Although, I might add, that particular passageway is going to be filled before we're all very much older.

There's no reason," he growled, "for any of them to have been built in the first place."

The captain decided against mentioning that Kristjan II, the king who'd commissioned the building of the palace, had been referred to by the bards of his time as "out of his royal mind" and there were scrolls and scrolls in the library concerning how best to deal with his "enthusiasms." At the moment, the information would only serve as an unnecessary distraction.

"Two:" Theron continued, "you have such a… person currently in residence at Bardic Hall. Three: she was the last bard to go to Ohrid before this whole situation came up."

Four: she's not going to want to see the father of her child executed
. The sudden realization hit Liene hard enough to set up echoes between her ears. She'd known from the moment the king had so tersely laid his dawn discovery before her that Annice had to be involved. That Pjerin a'Stasiek had fathered her child could be the only logical explanation for her to save him from the block. Not for a moment did the Bardic Captain believe that Annice had sold out to Cemandia.

Quickly recalling the conversation they'd had after the Due had been accused, she realized that Annice had never denied sleeping with the due although she'd done her best to misdirect suspicion. I
must be getting old not to have seen
through your innuendos. You told me exactly what I wanted to hear without ever telling me an outright lie and when I
get my hands on you, I'm going to wring your neck. How could you put me in this position
!

"Captain! I realize this has given you plenty to think about, but
try
to pay attention."

"Your pardon, Majesty." Liene sketched a bow. Theron snorted. "As I was saying, there is another bard who recently spent time with the due and who may have, over the years in close proximity, been told the secret ways of the palace."

"Stasya?"

The king nodded. "I'll send for them both and we'll see what kind of an explanation they can give us. I'm sure they'll be a credit to their bardic training."

"But, Majesty, shouldn't the guard be sent after the fugitive immediately?"

"No." The word was both denial and a warning not to argue further.

Liene drummed her fingers against her thighs. At this hour of the morning, she didn't deal well with disaster and she couldn't read the king's mood at all. "If you'll forgive me saying so, Majesty, you're taking this escape—
and the
implication of your sister in that escape
—very calmly."

Theron leaned back in his chair and brushed at the cobwebs on his sleeve. "I have my reasons, Captain. Page!"

The door flew open. "Sire!"

"Take a message to Bardic Hall…"

Stasya scrambled into her good tunic and searched amidst the mess on the table for a comb. Things were not going as planned.

"How did he find out so quickly?" she muttered, sifting through a pile of slates, a box of chalk, three scrolls, and a breastband with a broken strap. "There was nothing to connect that escape to Annice. Nothing."

The summons had been for them both.

"Maybe I can say she's in the privy. All things being enclosed, she'd been there often enough lately I can probably make it sound like the truth."

She found the comb at last and dragged it through her hair.

"Maybe this has nothing to do with last night."

One of her boots was under the bed.

"Maybe he's found out she's pregnant and wants to know if it's mine."

The other was propped up in the otherwise empty fireplace.

"Maybe he wants us to sing him a duet over breakfast."

She paused in the doorway and glanced back at the familiar mess. This might be the last time she ever saw it—an execution had already been planned, all it lacked was the guest of honor.

One hand went to her throat as she pulled the door closed with the other. At least Annice was safely away.

"And now off I go to compound treason with lies." She couldn't believe the risks she took for love.

Without appearing to be watching him at all, Liene watched the king carefully as they waited for the two bards to arrive. This would be the first time in ten years he'd seen his youngest sister face-to-face. What was he thinking?

Given the circumstances, what
could
he be thinking? Given Annice's condition on top of everything else, this was likely to be an interview of historic proportions and Liene rather wished that someone else were Bardic Captain during it.
I'm getting too old for this
.

In her opinion, he looked too calm. She wondered what he was hiding.

Theron continued to brush at the dust on his sleeve. He could remember only two times he'd been this angry; the first when the sister he'd all but raised had made him look a fool at his father's deathbed, the second when she rejected his offer of forgiveness and demanded
he
apologize for what she had done to him.
And now, she defies me once again.

This time, she has gone too far
.

He had no doubt that Annice had helped Ohrid escape and two theories as to why she'd done it. The first, that she'd fallen in love with young Pjerin during her Walk and had acted on that emotion, he found difficult to believe. Love was one thing, but—even for Annice—treason something else again. Besides, her continuing relationship with Stasya seemed to indicate that her emotions were already engaged. No, it wasn't love. He suspected that she, too, had reason to disbelieve the due's testimony and he looked forward to hearing what those reasons were.

He had no trouble at all believing that she considered her opinion of greater value than the entire justice system of Shkoder.

As soon as he set her straight on that score—and he looked forward to the opportunity—she could retrieve the fugitive and together they could begin the unpleasant task of getting at the truth—the whole truth, not just the words spoken under Command.

And then?

He took a deep breath and found himself considering Annice in conjunction with the terrifying possibility that, if the young due were innocent, someone had found a way to manipulate a mind under Command. This held the potential for such chaos that royal pain, royal pride, and royal anger could not stand against it.

For the first time in ten years, Theron found himself smiling as he thought of his sister. Somehow, he didn't find it at all surprising she was in the middle of the greatest crisis he'd faced since he'd taken the throne and that this crisis would place the full responsibility of a reconciliation squarely on his shoulders. Annice never did anything by halves.

"Do you think she's a good bard?" he asked suddenly.

Liene started.
Why is he worrying about that when she seems to have just helped a condemned traitor escape
execution
? "Yes, Majesty. Annice Sings all four quarters and…"

"I know what she can
do
, Captain," Theron told her dryly. "I am not without resources. I was asking for your personal opinion."

"In my personal opinion, Majesty…" The Bardic Captain bowed, thinking,
Resources? What in the Circle does he
mean by that? Of course he has resources, he's the king
. "… she's a very good bard. If a little impulsive at times."

"Impulsive?" Theron repeated with a bark of laughter. "I suppose that's one word for it." A gentle knock at the door stopped him before he could voice any others. "Come."

"The bard you sent for is here, Majesty."

"I sent for two."

The young page looked confused and a little frightened by the tone. "Only one came," he offered, tugging nervously on the hem of his tunic.

Which one
? Theron wondered, but all he said aloud was, "Send her in."

"Yes, Majesty."

Stasya had never been this far into the palace before. The senior of the guards flanking the door into the royal apartments had questioned the page and checked her for weapons before allowing her entry.
And we haven't been at
war for three generations. These guys are paranoid
.

The private areas were a lot less ornate and more comfortable looking than the public ones. She only wished for different circumstances so she could've enjoyed the tour.

The whole place smells like beeswax and whitewash. They must've just finished First Quarter cleaning
. Bardic Hall usually smelled like damp wool and ink.

The page who'd accompanied her from the Hall handed her over to another who told her to "wait right-exactly" where she was as he knocked on one of the carved wooden panels that made up the door. He slipped inside and Stasya tried to come up with something coherent to say.

One thing was certain; the truth was about to take a beating.

She wondered if the king would put her under Command.

Still, we now believe it's possible to lie under Command, don't we. Wish I knew how Pjerin managed it. If he managed
it. I think I'm going to puke.

The page returned and stepped aside. "His Majesty says you may enter."

Well, this is it. Show time
. Drying damp palms on her breeches, she stepped forward and hid a wince as the door swung closed behind her. It was such a depressingly
final
sound.

The king's private office was a surprisingly small room. It had a fireplace in one of the inner walls, a tall window looking out into an interior courtyard, and, instead of exposed stone, richly polished wood paneling. A portrait of the king's grandmother, Milena III, hung over the fireplace—Stasya had seen the artist's sketches and two preliminary portraits in the archives. The furniture—a large desk, three wood and leather chairs, and a set of shelves—sat on a plush burgundy and cream patterned carpet that could only have come out of the Empire.

Having run out of
things
to look at, Stasya surrendered to the inevitable and finally turned her gaze on the people. The king was sitting at the desk. He looked… actually, he looked amazingly like Annice when she was anticipating something that could easily turn out to be unpleasant. While their features were very little alike, the expression was nearly identical. Stasya hadn't been expecting that. It would be harder to lie into the face of a friend.

The Bardic Captain stood by the window. Stasya really hadn't been expecting
that
.

Oh, shit. 1 wonder whose side she's on.

As far from the desk as protocol allowed, she bowed, trying to remember if it was right leg forward, left leg back or the reverse and if, under the circumstances, it really mattered anyway. When she lifted her head, the king was staring at her, his expression unreadable.

"So," he said grimly. "She went with him."

He knows
. Stasya was as certain of that as she'd been of anything in her life. The question now became, how much did he know? With no point in lying to keep Annice in the clear, Stasya decided she'd better move on to her alternative plan. Just evolved, it involved answering all questions as truthfully as possible and then, the moment the king seemed susceptible, throwing herself—and Annice—on the mercy of the crown. When it came down to it, she wasn't too proud to beg for both of them. "Yes, Majesty."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the captain's incredulous reaction and fought to keep from smiling.
It
has to be nerves
, she told herself sternly.
This isn't funny
.

Liene jerked forward. "How could you let her…" she began, then stopped, unwilling to be the one to define Annice's condition before the king.

Theron ignored the interruption. "Do you realize the position you're in?"

Stasya swallowed. "Yes, Majesty."

"Do you realize that you have assisted in the committing of a treasonous act?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Do you realize that the penalty for what you have done is death?"

She briefly closed her eyes. "Yes, Majesty."

"Then why…" Theron surged up out of his chair and slammed both palms down on the desk "… by all that's in the Circle, did you do it!"

Because Annice asked me to
. She couldn't say it. It felt too much like betrayal.

Theron read the answer off her face, sighed, and sank back into his chair. "Never mind. I understand why you helped her, Stasya; I'm sure she put you in a position where you weren't able to do anything else." He stared into memory for a moment, then lifted his gaze once more to her face. "I would, however, like to know why
she
saw fit to break into my dungeon and release the Due of Ohrid."

Unexpectedly warming to him, now that his expression seemed more resigned than angry, Stasya saw a glimmer of hope. If the king would listen to the explanation, maybe they'd all survive the experience. Wishing she could use just a little Voice to help her convince-—it was more the captain's presence than her oath that stopped her—she wet her lips and tried to sum up Annice's reasoning. "She helped the due escape because she doesn't think that he did what he was accused of."