The Crimson Crown (58 page)

He embraced her, too. “Briar Rose,” he murmured. “It is good to see you safe. We have had a difficult season.”

Beaded and braided, his Demonai talisman around his neck, his sturdy frame dressed for war, Averill Demonai looked fit and happy.

They thrive on this, Han thought. They’ve been fighting for so long, it’s in their blood and sinew. Will they ever be able to stop?

“Is Nightwalker here?” Raisa asked.

Averill smiled. “Eager to see him, are you? We expect him at any time. We sent word up to the pass, where the Demonai are encouraging the flatlanders to keep going south.”

Averill finally recognized the presence of the others, nodding curtly to Han, Dancer, and Bird. “Hunts Alone, Fire Dancer, Night Bird. You have done good work, driving out the southerners.” But the face he turned to Han was hard and wary.

I didn’t do it for you, Han thought. He crossed the common room to Raisa, sliding his arm around her and drawing her close. Bird and Dancer stepped in on either side of them. A streetlord challenge.

Elena’s eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened, signaling disapproval.

“Grandmother, Father, we have something to tell you,” Raisa said.

Wolves moved in the shadows, just outside of the light from the hearth, wraiths with gleaming eyes and teeth.

Averill Lightfoot put up both hands as if to stop her words. “Briar Rose. No.”

“Hunts Alone and I intend to marry,” she said. “We hope for your blessing, but will proceed with or without it.”

Elena shot an accusing look at Han. “Granddaughter, this cannot happen,” she said. “You know this is impossible. The Nǽming forbids it.”

“A few weeks ago, you would have said it was impossible for wizards and clan to fight shoulder to shoulder,” Han said. “And yet it’s happened.”

Elena jabbed a finger in Han’s face. “Admit it. You’ve jinxed her, haven’t you?”

Raisa held up her hand, with Hanalea’s ring in place on her forefinger, Han’s ring next to it. “I still wear Hanalea’s talisman, the ring you gave me. I’m making this choice freely.”

“You are not free to make this choice!” Averill exploded. “Just when we are on the brink of victory, you mean to throw it all away by marrying this—this”—his expression delivered all sorts of possible finishes—“this one who carries the blood of the Demon King.”

“As do I,” Raisa said dryly. “As did my mother. Yet you’ve managed to ignore that when it suited you, Father.”

Averill turned furious eyes on Han. “No doubt you believe you are Waterlow’s heir, suited to reestablish the line of gifted kings. You already hold the Crimson Crown.”

“I don’t want to be king,” Han said. “As for the crown, you can melt it down and make flashcraft, as far as I’m concerned. I want your daughter—that’s all.”

“That’s too much to ask,” Averill growled. He took a deep breath, struggling to regain his trader face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elena spoke first.

“I have a trade for you, jinxflinger,” she said. “Leave the Fells and go wherever pleases you, and never come back. Do this, and we will allow you to live.”

Averill studied Raisa, frowning, as if trying to gauge how long it would take for her to get over Han’s death.

Han sensed Dancer and Bird shifting a little to either side. Dancer slid his hand inside his tunic.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Han said, his voice low and deadly. “Think twice before you go toe-to-toe with me.”

“If anything happens to Han Alister, there will never be peace between us,” Raisa said. “We Gray Wolf queens have long memories.”

Averill exchanged glances with Elena, some secret message passing between them. Elena nodded.

Han didn’t like it.

“Very well, daughter,” Averill said, with a sigh. “If this is what you really and truly want, it seems we have no choice. But I beg you to reconsider before you take this step.”

This is too easy, Han thought, frowning.

Dancer spoke up suddenly. “Lightfoot. Elena
Cennestre
. I hope you are not thinking of using this against Hunts Alone.” He pulled the Lone Hunter amulet from under his shirt.

He might have surfaced a snake, given Elena’s and Averill’s reactions. They looked stricken, as though someone had just picked their pockets.

“What are you doing with that?” Elena demanded. She tilted her head toward Han. “That was meant for him.”

“Maybe so,” Dancer said. “But I have it now.”

“Fire Dancer,” Willo said. “What about the amulet? What is it?”

“I knew there was something odd about this when it first came into my hands.” Dancer tapped the amulet with his fingertip. “There was something hidden inside that I couldn’t touch.”

“Fire Dancer!” Averill said sharply. “Don’t. This is clan business.” He took a step toward Dancer, but Han stepped in between them.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” Han said, one hand on the amulet hidden under his coat, the other extended toward the patriarch.

“I do too, Father.” Raisa nodded to Dancer to continue.

“It wasn’t until I read through Firesmith’s books that I figured it out,” Dancer said. “And then I knew that your bargain with Hunts Alone was a fraud.”

“Don’t listen to him, Briar Rose,” Elena said. “Remember who his father is.”

“Back during the Wizard Wars, the Demonai sometimes left amulets where wizards could find them,” Dancer said. “Or they would intentionally allow them to be stolen from the camps. The wizards did not realize that these were special amulets. If a wizard used magic against anyone wearing a Demonai talisman, the amulet would kill the spellcasting wizard.”

“Hanalea’s bloody bones,” Raisa whispered. “Are you saying that—that—”

“Imagine a battle between the gifted and the Demonai,” Dancer said. “With wizards dropping dead by the dozens as soon as they launched an attack.”

“The jinxflingers killed thousands when they invaded the Seven Realms,” Elena said. “It was self-defense.”

“Father?” Raisa said, taking a step toward them. “Grandmother? Is this true?”

Mother and son said nothing, but only stood with their trader faces on.

Han stole a glance at Bird, who sat against the wall, shaking her head, her lips pressed into a grim line.

Raisa’s face was pale and hard, her voice brittle. “I remember your saying, Father, that you had taken steps to make sure that Han wouldn’t betray you, but you wouldn’t tell me what you’d done. Is
this
what you meant?”

Elena rolled her eyes. “Alister knew from the beginning what the price of betrayal would be,” she said. “We made that very clear.”

“I’m thinking
you
are the one who planned to betray
him
,” Dancer said. “Once the Bayars were defeated, you would not want a descendant of Alger Waterlow on the loose in the Fells. So you built your solution into the amulet you gave him. When Hunts Alone had outlived his usefulness, you would kill him. If he defended himself, he would die.”

“You cannot prove that,” Elena said.

“We don’t need to prove it,” Han said. “Not under street rules, which seem to be what we’re using here.”

With that, Bird abruptly rose. “Hunts Alone. Briar Rose. I will support your marriage in any way I can.” She stalked out of the lodge, her back stiff with disapproval.

Han watched her go, then turned to Dancer. “How long have you known this?” he asked.

Dancer flipped a hand. “Not all that long. It wasn’t until I came back here and had time to do some reading that I figured it out.”

“Still.” Han shook his head. “You
knew
this and you’ve been carrying the amulet anyway? You should have destroyed it. You could have made a new one.”

“Why would I?” Dancer’s blue eyes glittered. “Elena Demonai is the best flashcrafter there is. This is a beautiful piece of work.” He ran his fingertips over the stone. “Of course, it
was
necessary for me to make a few
modifications
.”

“Are you saying that it no longer works as intended?” Elena asked.

“I’m saying that now it
does
work as intended,” Dancer said, with a faint smile.

“Father, Grandmother, that is despicable,” Raisa said, her cheeks smudged pink with anger. “I am so very disappointed in you.”

“Briar Rose,” Averill said, pleading in his voice. He extended his hands toward her. “We meant only to protect you. We have much more history with wizards than you do. We know what they are capable of.” He tilted his head toward Han. “This one is more dangerous than you know.”

“That’s just it,” Raisa said bitterly. “We are imprisoned by history, and so we repeat the mistakes of the past. If I make mistakes, they are going to be all my own.”

Raisa and her party declined to remain at Marisa Pines Camp until Nightwalker returned. The atmosphere had been poisoned by the revelations about Demonai treachery and Averill’s and Elena’s continued and vocal opposition to the marriage. Raisa worried that they might yet make an attempt on Han’s life. His death was the one argument she could not counter.

Back in Fellsmarch, they proceeded with plans for a small wedding—suited to a country at war. Nothing like the extravaganza her parents had enjoyed.

Han wanted Dancer to announce the marriage to the Wizard Council, as representative of the queen.

Raisa argued the point. “When I confronted the Demonai, you came with me,” she said. “You and Dancer shouldn’t have to face the council alone.”

“You’ve already done the hard work,” Han said. “The majority supports us. If you come before the council, it will look as if you are asking permission, which you are not.”

“Are you tutoring me in politics, Alister?” Raisa tapped her foot.

In the end, she conceded that Han and Dancer would go on their own, with backing from Gryphon and Mordra.

“We’re going by way of Ragmarket,” Han said. “Dancer and I still keep our horses down there, and that way I can check in with my eyes and ears. I need to talk to Jemson, too. Something about a wedding.” Han grinned and tilted her face up for a kiss. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

When he left, it was like he had taken the failing daylight with him.

I can’t protect him all the time, Raisa thought. Just like he can’t protect me.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have plenty to do. Raisa plowed through a mountain of paperwork—requisitions for supplies for the new quartermaster, trade agreements with Carthis and other overseas countries, since trade to the south had been stymied by the war.

Until there came a pounding on the door. “Your Majesty? It’s Mick.”

“Come,” Raisa said, putting down her pen.

Cat was halfway to the door when Mick burst into the room, waving an envelope. “This just came in from the guardhouse. Message from Lord Alister. I’m told it’s urgent.”

Already? It’s too soon to be an answer from the council, Raisa thought. She surged to her feet and extended her hand.

Mick handed her the envelope. It was sealed with Han’s streetlord symbol, a vertical line with a lightning bolt across it. The staff-and-flash.

“Wait outside, in case we need to send an answer,” Raisa said.

Mick bowed himself out.

The note was written in Han’s upright, scrawling hand.

Raisa, I’m at the warehouse. I have some new information about the wizard killings. We’ve had it all wrong. Come right away. Bring Cat, keep it quiet, and be careful. H. Alister

“What is it?” Cat was trying to read upside down. “Is Dancer with him? Is he all right?”

Raisa shook her head, glancing at the message again. “I don’t know. It doesn’t say. He’s in Ragmarket—at the warehouse.” She looked up at Cat. “The warehouse? What warehouse?”

“I know where it is,” Cat said, her voice low and strained. “Dancer has a metalshop there. It’s in Pilfer Alley, where Han’s old crib was. That’s where he meets his eyes and ears.”

Pilfer Alley! The night that Ragmarket burned, Micah Bayar had shown her a warehouse he described as Han’s headquarters, one of the few buildings spared in all of Ragmarket.

“All right, then,” Raisa snapped. “Let’s go.” Shrugging into her cloak and grabbing her battle staff, Raisa slammed open the door, nearly hitting Mick.

“Mick—go find Captain Byrne. Give him this note. Don’t give it to anyone else but him. Tell him I’ve gone to meet Lord Alister.”

Mick rubbed his chin. “Your Majesty, why not wait here and see if Captain Byrne wants to—”

“Don’t worry,” Raisa said. “I’ll have my bodyguard with me. Come on, Cat.” Closing her ears to Mick’s mumbled protests, Raisa strode down the corridor.

All the way to the Market Temple, Raisa grappled with the possible meaning of Han’s message.
We’ve had it all wrong.

Cat ranged out in front of her, driving a wedge through the crowds of people heading home to hearths and suppers.

When they arrived at the temple square, Cat led Raisa to the east, into a snarl of narrow streets and alleys. The buildings here had not yet been rebuilt or reoccupied, and so the streets were largely deserted, save for those who preferred the dark. The shadows seemed alive with these. More than once, Cat drove off skulking footpads and slide-handers.

Ahead, Raisa could see the second story of the warehouse looming over the ruins of the surrounding buildings. As they drew closer, she could see no signs of activity around it. Above the door was scrawled the staff-and-flash.

Impulsively, Cat reached for Raisa’s hand and squeezed it.

Wolves crowded in front of the doors, whining and snapping their jaws. Their voices clamored in Raisa’s head:
Beware, Raisa
ana’
Marianna.

I know,
Raisa growled to herself.
We’re in danger, or something bad is about to happen, or something’s about to change. That’s my life, up to now. Get out of the way.

She and Cat each gripped a handle and flung the double doors wide.

Raisa squinted into the darkness. The only light seeped in through soot-filmed, narrow windows. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the hulking shapes of furniture and equipment, like beasts crouching, ready to spring.

“Han!” Raisa shouted, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Dancer!”