The Dawn Star (9 page)

Kindler spoke in the formal cadences of Harsdown. “I do, Your Majesty. I bring you a message from King Muller and Queen Chime.”

Mel waited for Cobalt to respond. She didn't think he was being deliberately rude. In his youth, he had avoided the royal court here, and though he had probably learned its ways, he was far more at ease with his soldiers than in the palace.

When Cobalt said nothing, Mel inclined her head to Kindler. “We thank you for carrying the message. What news do you bring?”

Lines of strain showed on his face. “It is your uncle Drummer.” He set down his goblet. “Queen Vizarana has taken him hostage.”

Mel stared at him. “What? No, that can't be.”

Cobalt barely moved, just leaned forward a small amount, but his contained energy was so intense the air seemed to vibrate. Mel would never have thought the color black could be described as burning, but right now his eyes flamed with anger.

“Are you telling me,” he asked, “that Taka Mal has attacked my wife's family?”

“Their emissaries claim Goodman Drummer is un-harmed,” Kindler said. “And that he will remain so as long as no Chamberlight or Dawnfield army marches against Taka Mal.”

“Neither my father nor my cousin Jarid has ever coveted Taka Mal,” Mel said. But she knew taking hostages to ensure the behavior of a rival sovereign had a long history in the settled lands. Taka Mal sought protection against Cobalt. He and her parents and Vizarana would all debate until they settled on a compromise. She hoped. She didn't want to think what might happen to Drummer if they couldn't reach an agreement.

“Surely we can help my uncle,” Mel said.

Cobalt turned his fierce gaze on her. “Drummer is your mother's younger brother?”

“That's right. He's a minstrel.” Mel smiled. “He likes to sing and play pranks. He's harmless.”

“And well loved by your mother,” Cobalt said.

Softly Mel said, “By all of us.”

“That makes him dangerous,” Cobalt said. “When a man is loved, those who care for him will do anything to make sure he comes to no harm.”

Mel shivered. Cobalt had met Drummer only a few times, hardly enough to develop any affection for him. “We must help him.”

“Taka Mal is wrong if they think they can control me by attacking my kin.”

Kin. So he did think of Drummer as family. “Then you will send emissaries to Taka Mal?”

His expression darkened. “I will send no emissaries.”

Mel felt as if she had lost her moorings. “No one?”

“Not for an insult this grave.” His voice chilled. “I will send my army.”

Drummer spent the morning playing his glittar. He did scales, practiced old songs, and composed new ones. By midday, he was restless. Bored. He resented the captivity.

After he finished his midday meal, he cleared out the parlor and laid down Kazlatarian rugs, plush and vibrant with sunrise hues. He practiced acrobatics, first warm-ups and then more intricate routines. He was standing on his head, doing splits in that inverted position when Jade entered the room. For a moment he enjoyed the upside-down sight of her gaping at him. She had on amazing clothes, emerald-green and silky. Gold jewelry glistened against her skin, and topazes sparkled in her upswept hair.

“What in a thousand journeys on the cinnamon road are you
doing?
” she asked.

“The what road?” Drummer somersaulted in the air and landed on his feet. He didn't even stumble, which usually happened on that maneuver. He felt as if he could fly. “Greetings of the afternoon, Your Highness.”

“Light of the afternoon,” Jade said. “It is what we say here.”

“And you are.” Drummer went over to her. “I have never seen you so captivating. Every day I wait for a glimpse of you.”

She looked unimpressed. “Does this flattery of yours actually work on Aronsdale farm girls?”

He was challenging her, especially with words like
captivating,
but it was true, too, that he savored their daily meetings. And for all that she insisted he vexed and provoked her, she always found an excuse to see him. She rebuffed his advances, yet never demanded he stop, which only made him try harder. Hot one moment and cold the next: She was tying him in knots.

Drummer came to within a step of her, closer than he had been since her first visit to his suite. “Aronsdale women can't compare to you.”

Her lips quirked upward. “I fear you will write me more bad poetry.”

“Bad? Never.” He feared he was about to do something much worse. It would undoubtedly involve Jade and her lips and evoke more of her threats to throw him in a dungeon for offenses against the throne. The dungeon, however, had yet to materialize.

He rubbed his knuckles down her cheek. “You deserve only the best verses.”

“And you have a death wish.” But she neither moved nor pushed him away. Her eyes smoldered as her lips parted, and he thought he could die happy right there. Almost. He wanted even more to do alive, vital things with her. He touched her lips, and she closed them to kiss his finger. She stroked her hand along his arm—

Jade inhaled sharply and stepped back. “I am having a banquet tonight. You will attend. A bid-boy will be in later to dress you. You may keep the clothes as a gift.”

Ai! She might as well have doused him in cold water. “What, you want me to dine with your court?”

“You are the brother of the Harsdown queen. It is fitting.” She moved a wayward curl out of her eyes. “I also don't want rumors to spread that we are treating you poorly.”

“And here I thought you wanted my company.” He meant it as a joke, but it sounded angry. “What the blazes is a bid-boy?”

“Aronsdale men call them valets.”

“Oh.” At Castle Suncroft, they always offered him valets, but Drummer had never liked having someone else dress him. “He can just leave the clothes.”

“Hmm.” Jade made that one sound a commentary on his ability to make himself presentable. “We will see.”

She swept out the door, leaving him alone, and he wanted to pound the wall with frustration.

“You mustn't!” The force of her own words startled Mel. She never raised her voice to Cobalt.

He stood by the heavy drapes that covered the windows. His white tunic bore the Chamberlight sphere, and slits in its sides showed blue-and-gold cloth underneath. A gold medallion hung around his neck. Sapphires glinted on his boots. It hadn't taken Mel long to realize he hated the clothes, for they made him look like Stonebreaker. In the privacy of their rooms he let down his guard enough for her to see hints of the emotions he hid from everyone else. It terrified her.

“You cannot storm Taka Mal!” She swept her hand out to accent her words. “Yes, Vizarana Jade wronged my family. But in her eyes, we have wronged Shazire and Blueshire.
We
started this. Not Taka Mal.”

His face had gone thunderous. No one ever shouted at Cobalt the Dark. He walked slowly to her, tensed with banked physical power. When he looked down at her face, her heart beat hard. She saw the rage he controlled, anger at Taka Mal, yes, but also at the wife who defied him. His grandfather's death had done so much damage. The Cobalt she had loved this past year was gone, and she feared the late king's legacy of brutality would play out all over again in his tormented grandson.

Mel held her breath and her ground. She stood taller than most women, but her head didn't even reach his chin. He gripped her shoulders, and his palms covered them completely. She waited, staring up at him, hiding her fear, and hoped she wasn't misguided to trust he wouldn't shake her or raise his massive fists.

Cobalt's face contorted as if he were wrestling a demon within himself. Then he groaned and pulled her into an embrace. For a moment, she was too stunned to react. Then she put her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

He spoke in a low voice. “I need to fight. I need to ride and fight until all the fury in me burns out.”

She spoke with pain. “You could raze every village in Taka Mal and it wouldn't be enough. Don't make all the settled lands suffer the vengeance you cannot exact on Stonebreaker.”

“His father gave him the wrong name,” he said roughly. “It should have been Soulbreaker.”

“But your soul survived.” She drew back, against the iron pull of his arms, so she could look up at him. “If you unleash your fury against those who have done you no wrong, Stonebreaker wins, for he has turned the good within you to evil.”

“Queen Vizarana has wronged your family. And you are my wife. So she has wronged me.”

“Her methods have precedent. Saints, Cobalt, you kept Prince Zerod's wife and son as hostages.”

“I would never hurt them.”

“As I hope she would never hurt Drummer.” She had to make him see. “In taking Shazire, you gave her cause to believe drastic measures are necessary.”

Cobalt frowned at her. “Shazire and Blueshire were part of the Misted Cliffs. We lost them because Taka Mal attacked us.”

“Yes. Two
centuries
ago.”

“What would you have me do? Negotiate when this desert queen has harmed your family?”

“We don't know she has harmed him.” Mel couldn't bear to think of the possibility. “You've never met Drummer. He's a charmer. Women love him. He probably has Queen Vizarana eating out of his hand.”

Cobalt gave her a dark look. “From what I have heard of this queen, it is more likely she would feed him to her tigers.”

Mel winced. “Don't say that.”

“Yet you would bargain with this barbarian queen?”

“I like it no more than you. But you know the history of the settled lands.” He had studied it all his life and often talked to her about ancient military campaigns. “Even if what we really intend is to sneak him out of Taka Mal, shouldn't we at least appear to negotiate?”

“Historically, this abduction wouldn't justify a war,” he admitted. “Not if we haven't tried negotiation. To attack now would look like an invasion, with Drummer as a weak excuse. It would give the Atajazid D'az Ozar motivation to ally with Queen Vizarana.”

“I fear she is more likely to hurt Drummer if we attack.”

Cobalt considered her for a moment. Then he went to the drapes and pulled them aside. Sunlight slanted into the room, limning his body. He stood looking at her, and she had a feeling he meant it as a message.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You.” He motioned around at the room. “This is me.”

Mel went over to him. “I don't understand.”

“I am the room. You are the sun.” He touched her cheek with a gentleness incongruous with his capacity for violent power. “I married you to stop a war. I never knew that war was within me.”

“Ah, love.” He saw himself as a sparsely furnished room, but to her he was a flame. For now, his fire was banked. But even if she had calmed the blaze within him, it still simmered—ready to erupt.

D
rummer knew he was in trouble when his guards escorted him into the Topaz Hall. The size, the opulence, the incense—it was too much. This place had little in common with the reserved elegance of Castle Suncroft in Aronsdale, named for a simple croft, albeit for the sun. Here columns plated with gold supported a colonnade of arches that bordered the room. Ivory and gold tiles patterned the floor. Mosaics gleamed on the walls and pillars, accented with diamonds, topazes, and rubies. He wondered how any gems could remain elsewhere in the settled lands, for surely Taka Mal had them all here. The Topaz Hall glowed like the interior of a jewel, a vibrant explosion of wealth.

Guests filled the room, all in sumptuous dress, their silks glowing like the sunset, brocades adorned with jewels, scarves bright against the women's glossy hair. His guards wore dress uniforms with long, curved swords on their belts. Drummer had needed his valet after all; his new attire had far too many buttons and fastenings, especially the gold trousers. The white shirt was silk, and the brocade vest shimmered. He couldn't believe Jade had given him these clothes. They were worth a fortune. Real gold accented the garments and boots, also topazes and rubies. And jade. As far as he could see, he was the only one who wore the green stone. He didn't miss the implication; he belonged to the bearer of its name.

As Javelin, Havej, and Kaj discreetly ushered him across the room, people turned to look. Drummer was acutely aware he was the only person without black hair. He was like one of the sparkling ornaments, here to please the queen. The guards technically were keeping others away from him, but it didn't take a genius to see they were preventing him from going anywhere.

Musicians played in one corner and couples danced. Other guests conversed, sipping gold wine from goblets or enjoying delicacies provided by servers who circulated in the hall. No one offered Drummer food. No one attempted to breach the invisible wall his guards created. Women cast him intrigued glances and their men watched him with wary regard. None seemed hostile. Drummer would have liked to think it was because he was a guest, but he suspected it had more to do with how harmless he appeared compared to the darkly powerful nobles and warriors gathered here. Not that he wanted to harm anyone; he just felt outclassed.

His guards guided him past tables draped with snowy cloths, place settings of gold and crystal bowls full of citrus fruit. They ended their walk by a dais at the end of the hall with one table and no people. They waited at the bottom of its stairs.

A man with a tray of garnished lamb-curls hurried by. Drummer's mouth watered. He had been too keyed up earlier, even nauseous, and he hadn't wanted to eat, but now he was starving.

“Delicious,” a woman's husky voice said behind him.

Drummer spun around and found himself face-to-face with the goddess who had turned his world upside down. For once in his life, his voice fled. He could do nothing but stare. Jade wore a crimson silk gown that wrapped her body and left her shoulders, arms and the upper curve of her breasts bare. The body-hugging drape had no adornment, but topazes, gold, and rubies glittered around her neck, in her hair and on her wrists. Drummer wanted nothing more than to peel that dress off her. He would make love to the queen while her creamy, dark skin sparkled with gems and her body moved, warm and sensual under his hands.

“Goodness,” Jade murmured. “You do look hungry.”

Mortified, he stepped back. He couldn't go far, though, with his guards around him. His face heated until he thought it must be the same color as her dress.

“I didn't have any lunch.” He barely got the words out without stuttering.

She raised her hand to the dais. “Please join me.”

He hesitated, confused. At Castle Suncroft, if he sat with the queen, he would be considered her escort. That never happened, of course; she sat with King Jarid. At Applecroft, the “royal court” consisted of his sister's family and their guests eating around a big table in their dining room. He didn't know the customs here well, but he couldn't imagine it would be appropriate for him to act as Jade's escort. For all he knew, it might inspire her officers to slice him up with their weirdly curved swords.

His hesitation, however, didn't go over well with his guards, either. Kaj grasped his upper arm and pushed him toward the steps.

“All right,” Drummer muttered, and went up the dais. His guards took him to a round table even more lavishly set than those below and had him stand by a chair. Jade hadn't come with them, and Drummer was even more visible up here. At least Javelin, who stood at his right, partially blocked him from view.

Although Drummer heard no announcement, guests were taking seats at the tables below. Maybe his being escorted here was a signal or part of a process where people were discreetly invited to sit down. Jade was walking with two men. The husky one wore the flashy red-and-gold dress uniform of a Taka Mal general. Ribbons and medals festooned his chest. Drummer recognized him; he had been the armored warrior in the throne room where Drummer had first met Jade. At the time, Drummer had thought he looked barbaric. He still thought so, but he realized now that the man had the classic features of Taka Mal nobility. In fact, he looked a lot like Jade.

The other man disquieted Drummer even more. Tall and leanly muscled, he gave the impression he controlled immense destructive forces he could unleash at any time. Gold ribbing accented his dark clothes. The sword at his side was straight instead of curved and heavier than those worn by Javelin, Kaj, and Havej. Drummer didn't like to think what it meant that Jade's guest came armed to her banquet. An older man walked at his side, gaunt in a white-and-black Scribe's robe that hung on his skeletal frame. He seemed thick with shadows.

With a sinking feeling, Drummer realized they were coming toward the dais, along with a handful of other military types, some in the gold and red of Jade's officers, some in gray and black. Sweat dampened his palms, but he didn't want to wipe them on his trousers or otherwise reveal his fear to these large and intimidating people.

Jade and the man with the sword were talking as they came up onto the dais. The general's face went cold when he saw Drummer. Had they been alone, Drummer thought the general might have struck him. For the life of him, Drummer couldn't think why. He was close enough to the table to use its circular shape in making a spell. He concentrated—and the general's mood hit him so hard he staggered. It also came with a picture from the fellow's thoughts, something that happened only rarely with Drummer's spells. He could have done without the image: The man wanted to heave him into a brick-lined pit and chain him to the wall.

The blood drained from Drummer's face. He didn't know what he had done to this man, but he prayed to Azure, the most powerful saint he knew, that he never faced the general without protection.

Jade glanced at him, but he couldn't read her as well. In part, it was because her reaction to him was neither as intense nor as vivid as with the general. But even accounting for that, he had trouble deciphering her mood. It made him wonder if she wasn't certain herself what she felt. More likely, he was foolish to think he could do real spells. He had never shown any consistent or significant ability. Not that he knew how to judge consistency or talent. He just played games with shapes.

Havej pulled out a chair, and Jade stood in front of it, facing the table and the Topaz Hall. If she was at midnight on a clock face, Drummer was at nine. The general stood at eleven o'clock, and the armed man at one, with his shadowed companion at two. The other officers took the other numbers. The guests below were also standing in front of their chairs, twelve to a table.

Jade looked around at them and inclined her head, a study in regal carriage. Then she settled into an ornately carved chair. The armed man sat next, then the general, then the others. In the hall below, the guests were also sitting. Something was missing, but Drummer wasn't certain what. As he took his seat, the other guests at the table glanced at him with curiosity. None seemed overly interested except the armed man, who studied him intently. Drummer wanted to ask why, but he held back. For all that he felt at sea with customs here, he knew enough to keep his mouth shut.

The armed man spoke courteously to Jade. “You have many guests tonight.”

Jade tilted her head as if acknowledging a question. She lifted her hand and turned it palm up with her fingers pointed toward Drummer. “Gentlemen, may I present Drummer Creek Headwind, brother to Queen Chime of Harsdown.”

They nodded as if he were one of them, which would have amused Drummer if he hadn't been so nervous. He returned their nods, aware of their curious glances at his guards. He felt like an insect under an enlarging lens in a laboratory.

Jade moved her hand to indicate the man with the sword. To Drummer, she said, “His Magnificence, Atajazid D'az Ozar of the House of Onyx, King of Jazid.”

Drummer felt as if he fell twenty stories without moving a finger span. Onyx. Royalty. It seemed he was going to meet every ruler in the settled lands. He wanted only to wander and play his harp, not sit at tables with sovereigns who waged politics and kidnapping and war and looked as if they could eat him alive.

As a server poured wine, Ozar spoke pleasantly to Drummer, or at least as pleasantly as he could sound with a voice like gravel. “Have you been visiting Taka Mal for long, Your Highness?”

Highness, indeed. Jade hadn't said Drummer was a prisoner, but it had to be obvious. Onyx was mining for information.

“Over a month, Your Majesty,” Drummer said.

Jade turned to Onyx as if to offer a response, which no doubt would be as smooth and as double-edged as his question. Before she could start, though, the Taka Mal general spoke roughly. “He is no Highness. He's a commoner.”

Drummer froze, aware of everyone staring, not at him, but at the general. Most people knew the Harsdown queen was the daughter of an orchard keeper. Dawnfield kings and princes often married commoners. Mage gifts could occur anywhere. Personally, Drummer thought it was why the Dawnfield line remained strong and hale, unlike many other royal houses. No inbreeding.

Jade frowned at her general, and Drummer was again struck by their resemblance to each other. She was curved and feminine where he was husky and square jawed, but they had similar features, the same arrogant cheekbones, and the same wildness lurking under their civilized exterior. The warrior within Jade was manifest in her commander, who probably headed her army, given his favored position at the table. Drummer would have thought he and Jade were siblings, except Jade had no brothers. If her parents had also had a boy, he would be sitting on the throne.

“Baz, love, Drummer is our guest.” Although her words were as smooth as Zanterian honey, Drummer felt their edge. But she called him
love.
Who was this Baz? Lover or relative? Maybe both. It often worked that way among the royal houses. If so, and the general knew of the liberties Drummer kept trying with Jade, it was no wonder Baz wanted to dump him in a pit.

Drummer couldn't block their moods. His spell continued from before, and emotions inundated him. Onyx had guessed his status and viewed him as a disposable tool. Jade appeared confident, but underneath she was aware of her vulnerability and striving to shield herself. She was also worried for Drummer.
Worried.
She hadn't brought him here to show him off. She was protecting him. The more people who knew he was her guest, the harder it would be for anyone to get away with hurting or disposing of him.

The rush of emotions intensified until his head reeled. Baz confused Drummer. The general loved Jade, but he had no sexual interest in her. As much as his love scraped like sandpaper, it wasn't violent. Onyx was another story. He had nothing resembling gentle feelings, only lust and brutality and an intense desire to subjugate the queen. Jade desired someone, too. Drummer felt her mood, but that didn't tell him which man inspired it. He hoped it wasn't Onyx, and he prayed it wasn't him, for these people would roast him alive if they knew he coveted their Topaz Queen.

Jade and Onyx were conversing, something about caravans, but Drummer couldn't concentrate. He had never experienced spells this powerfully before, and he didn't understand why it was happening now. The round table, the round plates, the round bases of the goblets, the cubes dangling from Jade's ears—so many
shapes.
He couldn't stop the spell, and he couldn't handle the deluge.

Drummer had an epiphany then. He had always assumed his talent was marginal. It had never occurred to him that his struggles might arise because he had too much ability, not too little. He had never learned to control it. Mages typically came into their powers in adolescence, but as far as he knew, it didn't have to happen that way. Hints of his talent had shown in his youth. Tonight, with so many people around him, his spells were surging and he didn't know how to stop them. Panic swept over him. If he couldn't contain this flood, it would drive him insane.

Jade had stopped talking to Ozar and was watching Drummer. On the surface, the atajazid didn't seem to notice; he was sipping his wine and listening to the shadowed man on his left. But Drummer knew Ozar was aware of his every move.

Drummer finally realized what was missing. Women. At the high table in Aronsdale, the king and queen sat with their family and honored guests. Here, the queen and her honored guests apparently sat with her highest-ranked officers. Onyx wouldn't bring his wives; no one ever saw the Jazid queens. Jade was isolated, afloat in an unwelcoming sea where the sharks felt she had no business swimming and vied for the right to tear her apart. No wonder she had never married; it would be like leaking blood into the water. Either she would have to get out then, or suffer the consequences. After a month of dealing with her every day, though, he had no doubt anyone who thought he could control her was deluded.