The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 (26 page)

CHAPTER 37

M
Y FATHER HAS BETRAYED ME. He has taken Lady Graciella to wife. To
wife
, S’murghit. She is already pregnant, having lived in his household less than a moon. I am no longer good enough for him as his heir. I am still only the bastard son made legitimate as a stopgap, a temporary solution. He is so smug he does not even camp with the army we have gathered for the other lords to join forces with us against the king.

I shall show him the folly of his ways. Graciella may produce only a female. She may miscarry. There are ways to make certain that happens. My lovely tells me of herbs and poisons that I can add to Graciella’s wine, as Graciella added the poison to the king’s beta arrack.

Graciella switched the king’s cup for me. She used her small, untrained magic at my direction. She did it to please me, I had her first. She hoped to marry me, the heir. She begged me to let her help me in my mission to gain the throne. The child might not even be my father’s. Little does she know that my true quest is to rid Coronnan of the corruption of magic. The throne is just a means to an end.

First I will make certain there is no child. Then I will ensure that my father is no longer lord. As the new lord, I will be in a much better position to marry my little princess. Especially if I loan the king my army. First I become his ally, then his son. When all is in place I will turn my little pet against him. The big weapons I will save for the dragons.

“P’pa?” Linda hesitated in the doorway. Her face and hands felt icy cold while her stomach twisted into a fiery knot.

“Linda, you should be in bed,” her father said, not unkindly, but with enough sternness that she knew he meant for her to leave immediately.

She couldn’t. Not now.

“I think I have seen one of those Krakatrice eggs,” she told him more boldly.

The broad man, who could only be Senior Magician Jaylor, stepped around P’pa and approached her with haste and determination. He sketched a curt bow to her by way of introduction then speared her with his gaze.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t lie, couldn’t do much of anything but let him examine her soul.

“Describe what you saw,” he ordered.

“Da, you didn’t even introduce yourself,” Glenndon protested from his place beside his sisters. They didn’t look well at all. The more slender of the two looked so pale her veins showed through her thin, almost translucent skin like a light purple tracery. The deep hollows around her eyes were a darker shade of the same color.

A part of Linda needed to sit beside them, hold them close and let them heal, much as she did when something frightened Manda and Josie.

Or was that Glenndon’s memory of holding the twins? So much had passed between them while joined during the magic spell, she no longer was certain which memories were hers, and which his.

“She knows who I am, and I know her, she looks just like her mother with some of her father’s keen disregard for personal safety.”

P’pa snorted something rude.

Linda half smiled at the accurate description of the king.

“Now describe the egg,” Jaylor ordered.

“On Market Isle. I saw it. All blood red with black lines of magic writhing around it.”

“Stargods! Who could be so stupid as to nurture the evil thing? And sell it?”

“The stall was at the end of the island, beyond the cobblestones, the farthest from the bridge to the city proper, closest to the port.”

“A most disreputable part of the market,” P’pa growled. “What in Simurgh’s name were you doing there? Did Miri and Chastet go with you?”

“Sort of, P’pa.” Linda hung her head, not at all sure how to explain her actions.

One word at a time,
Glenndon urged her. She caught a glimpse of watching Lucjemm fondle the egg, enthralled by it. Glenndon must have access to her memories as she did his.

“Your Grace, I must take full responsibility.” Lucjemm appeared in the doorway as if Linda’s memories had summoned him. He looked damp, weary, and had a smudge of something dark and shiny streaking his left cheek. The skin beneath the stain looked raw, like he’d fallen on his face into a puddle of something disgusting.

“Explain yourself, young man,” P’pa ordered.

“I escorted Her Highness through the market that day. I found the egg. The egg my father ordered imported from the Big Continent. He has the hatchling from it and from the previous one he bought three years ago. I have left his household and offer myself totally into your service. I will not tolerate his hypocrisy any longer. I will not sit back and watch him use magical creatures to destroy all of Coronnan because he hates magic and wants to end your reign and all possibility of magicians returning.”

“Um . . .” Linda didn’t remember the incident in the market in quite the same way.

Enthrallment,
Glenndon reminded her.
Someone manipulates him.

How much of what he says can we trust?

Glenndon shrugged.
As long as the snake is not with him, he’s thinking on his own.

“Let us retire to my office and order food,” P’pa said. His gaze drifted over to the two little girls.

“P’pa, may I stay with the girls? I think I know what to do to help Valeria,” Linda said softly.

“How do you know?” the king asked. Very much the king, standing straight and tall with an air of authority in his voice and the set of his shoulders.

“I . . .” She tilted her shoulders slightly toward Lucjemm.

What?
Jaylor asked directly into her mind, like Glenndon used to do before he learned to speak. Learned from her.

She thought very hard, concentrating on getting her words into Jaylor’s mind.

Nothing happened.

Since the spell to remove the magically poisoned acid from me, we share many memories,
Glenndon inserted for her.

Then why doesn’t he know what to do?
Jaylor swung his attention back and forth, keeping everyone in the room in view and within reach.

“Because they are his memories and have been with him so long he doesn’t know what is significant and what is not. They are new to me. Things stand out as either being part of a larger pattern or outside the pattern.” She hoped that was the right wording.

“What needs to be done?” Jaylor asked, sharply. His love for the little girl bled through his posture and tone.

The flywacket,
Linda sent, hoping she’d learned enough from Glenndon’s last sending to repeat it.

Both Jaylor’s and P’pa’s eyebrows reached for their scalps.

“Lucjemm, please await us in my office. I will be with you shortly,” P’pa said, in his formal court voice.

Eyes wide with wonder, Lucjemm bowed sharply and exited. Linda thought she heard him move toward the staircase. But she couldn’t be sure.

“Fred!” P’pa stuck his head out the door as he called for his bodyguard.

Rapid steps pounded down the narrow staircase from a higher level in the family tower. “Yes, Your Grace?” Fred asked, breathing heavily.

“Keep an eye on Master Lucjemm in the office until I get there. Then you will guard this room. My son and daughter, and Lord Jaylor’s daughters need
complete privacy.
”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Fred hurried off again.

Jaylor gestured with a flat hand, pushing downward. Keep the words quiet so they wouldn’t travel beyond the room.

“Indigo was born a dragon. A dragon spirit animates Valeria’s life force,” Linda said.

“So?” Jaylor asked. He had to know some of this to remain so calm.

“Valeria needs to become a flywacket. For a time.

Then she spotted Indigo poking his fuzzy head out of the nest he’d made of the girls’ laps.

“Am I right, Indigo?”

He purred loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Then he meowed something in a questioning tone.

“What?” Glenndon asked him, using words to make sure both fathers were involved in the conversation.

“Glenndon, talk to your mother before you do anything. My Lord Jaylor, come with me.” And the room emptied of the tall and masterful presences of the king and his magician counselor.

“Are you sure, Linda?” Glenndon asked.

Linda looked at the tangle of two little girls, so very alike, and yet different. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason for the difference, just that she knew instantly which was Lillian, the strong and capable one, and which was Valeria, the fragile and wise one.

“I’m not sure of anything,” Linda confessed. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know if it will work or will kill her once and for all, as she nearly died at birth. It just seemed like the only answer.”

Glenndon gave her a curt nod.
Letting her die will kill Lillian as well. They are two halves of a whole,
he added on a tight line to her, keeping the communication away from the twins. As if they had any attention or energy for doing anything other than holding themselves close to each other.

“Then let’s do this. Indigo, where do we start?”

“Glenndon, wait. Shouldn’t you summon your mother; the girls’ mother, before you do anything.” Linda grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her and tell her the truth.

“Mama will only panic and abandon the little ones to come here. She won’t be thinking clearly for some time. She’ll try every herb and healing spell she knows before letting us do what needs to be done. She’ll also leave Lukan in charge. He’s not very focused.”

Linda had to think about that. How would her own mother, Queen Rossemikka, handle this kind of news if Manda or Josie, or even Linda herself, were in such dire straits? Would M’ma remain calm and direct the spell, as she had with Glenndon’s healing. Or would she run about like a flusterhen trying to do everything at once, shouting orders, and accomplishing nothing?

“We’ll summon her when it’s all over,” Glenndon reassured her.

“Is this going to hurt?” the stronger twin asked.

Linda sank to her knees in front of the girls. She imagined what it would be like if Manda and Josie were sitting there, her sisters, not Glenndon’s. And couldn’t. The two younger girls were so full of life and mischief and vitality that she could not picture either of them sick and weak unto death.

She didn’t want to think about that. In that moment she knew to the core of her being that she had to try this. For Glenndon.

She noted that the girls had each grabbed hold of Indigo’s neck ruff. The flywacket purred mightily, soothing them all, lulling them all into matching their breaths and their heartbeats.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t know if it will work at all, but we have to try. And if it works, it will be worth whatever pain.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“She’s a princess, she has to follow up on her promises,” Glenndon reminded them all.

Success or failure now rested upon Linda’s shoulders, just like the success or failure of breaking the Council rested on her father’s.

At this moment she could almost feel the weight of the Coraurlia encircling her head, stabbing her with guilt.

And responsibility.

Did her father’s enemies have any idea what accompanied their lust for power?

CHAPTER 38

D
ARVILLE SETTLED behind his desk. With the massive piece of furniture between him and Lucjemm he resumed control of the interview. The vulnerability suggested by his unbound hair and sleep clothes vanished.

“Tell me about the eggs,” Jaylor demanded, leaning against the closed door, a solid barrier between the boy and escape.

“The eggs? Oh, yes, my father’s toys.” Lucjemm nearly spat the last word.

Was that a moment of calculated hesitation at the beginning, or had recent events jangled his nerves?

Darville’s nerves were certainly raw. “Go on,” he urged, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral and calm. The way Jaylor kept looking in the direction of Glenndon’s room where a different drama played out, he figured he’d have to conduct this interview without input or help.

“Well, ah, three years ago, Father brought home this curiosity. That’s what he called it. A curiosity.”

“Home? Home is where? Your castle in Saria or the manse here in Coronnan City,” Darville prodded.

“At the time . . . Mother—Lady Lucinda, the only mother I have ever known—and I were in Saria. Father brought the egg home when the Council disbanded for the winter holidays.”

Darville forced himself to remember when he’d last seen Lady Lucinda, before Jemmarc had exiled her. He couldn’t. She was such a vague, wispy personality, he doubted he’d remember her if he saw her face-to-face.

Three years ago? That was just before Jemmarc brought Lucjemm to the capital and arranged the boy’s rite of legitimacy. They’d thrown a big party afterward at the manse. Had Lady Lucinda been there even then?

He couldn’t remember. Mikka had been ill at the time, and he’d made only a token appearance at the party.

“What happened when the egg hatched?” Jaylor asked from his post at the door. So he was listening, with at least half his attention.

If one of Darville’s daughters faced the trial little Valeria did, the king knew he wouldn’t be attending to political business at all.

“I don’t know for certain. Father and I were in the city for my Rite of Legitimacy when the egg hatched.” Lucjemm suddenly found his muddy boots fascinating.

“Tell us what you know,” Darville coaxed.

“Father remained in the city and sent me home right after the party. I was only thirteen, not old enough to train with the soldiers, too old for a tutor. He . . . he seemed distracted, like he didn’t know what to do with me since he didn’t have to hide me anymore.”

“And when you got home, what happened to the hatchling?”

“Mother kept it in her room. In a nest of dry straw and fed it raw meat.” Lucjemm still did not lift his gaze from his boots.

Jaylor shook his head slightly. He detected something wrong with the story.

“What else?” Darville pressed. If Lucjemm lied, surely Jaylor would detect it. Eventually. They had to keep him talking.

If for no other reason than keeping Jaylor occupied while Glenndon and Linda did whatever they needed to do.

“And . . . ?” Jaylor asked.

“And?” Lucjemm flung his head back. His queue loosened from the violence of his movement, sending stray tendrils across his face. His eyes darted right and left, not quite fixing on either Darville or Jaylor.

“What else did the hatchling eat?” Jaylor asked.

Interesting phrasing.

Lucjemm’s right arm bent to rest behind his back. “Mother allowed the ugly snake to bite her finger and drink blood.” Lucjemm’s gaze dropped again. Not to his boots this time, but to the pattern of planks on the floor and maybe to the edge of rich rug that the desk rested upon.

“Did you ever have the Krakatrice draw blood from you?” Jaylor stepped forward. His hand flashed out and grabbed the boy’s left arm so fast Lucjemm couldn’t hold back. In the same gesture Jaylor pushed up the boy’s sleeve.

Old white scars shone stark against his skin. Each a pair of round dots, evenly spaced.

“These scars are years old, he hasn’t given blood to a beast recently,” Jaylor announced. He dropped the arm as if tainted.

Lucjemm shoved his sleeve down, a blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks all the way to his ears.

“What happened to the hatchling when your mother . . . left?” Darville asked soothingly. This boy needed his protection as much as Glenndon and Linda and the little girls.

“I . . . I don’t know. I didn’t see it for a long time. Then . . . then yesterday after you broke the Council, Father brought out this huge snake from his rooms at the manse, a . . . a Krakatrice and took it outside the city. He crooned to it like a lover. It coiled around his arm and neck and flicked its forked tongue like it was . . . it was tasting the air, seeking new victims to feed off of.” The last came out in a rush as if he was afraid to speak his thoughts and had to get them all out at once before they choked him.

Jaylor rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed gently, reassuringly. “Your father must be using the Krakatrice to enthrall his troops. Will he rise against his king now that the Council is recessed?”

Recessed. Good word. It lacked the sense of permanence of “broken.” It gave Darville hope that he could find a compromise to bring the government back together. Legally, without the Council, Darville only had authority over the city islands and small strips of land bordering the river on either side. He and his citizens were dependent upon the network of trade with the other provinces for grain and meat, for cloth and leather, and myriad other things to support life and civilization.

“I think so. He has taken Lady Graciella to wife. I think . . . I think she is a sorceress. I think they poisoned your cup, Your Grace.”

“Why would Jemmarc denounce one wife for working magic and then take another and use her magical talent?” Darville asked. Something about the entire tale bothered him. It had no logic.

Lucjemm shrugged; a gesture so reminiscent of Glenndon that Darville wanted to enfold him into the family. “Father didn’t really care if she worked magic or not. What he wants is another son. As if I am no longer good enough for him. He’s willing to use Graciella’s magic to further his plans.”

“Could the Krakatrice be manipulating Lord Jemmarc’s mind?” Jaylor asked. He started to run his hands through his tightly bound hair, encountered resistance and thought better of it. Brevelan must have worked the four-strand plait and ordered him not to disturb it.

Before he’d calmed his hands, his head snapped sharply to his left and his eyes grew wide. “Valeria,” he whispered. He slammed out of the room without pause or apology for waking the household when the door slammed, bounced, and reverberated against the wall.

“Your Grace, may I ask what is going on?” Lucjemm sounded bewildered and incredibly young.

“You can ask. But you probably won’t get an answer. Satisfy yourself that you are my alibi. I am not working magic. My wife and daughters are not working magic. I am not even in the same room with my Senior Magician and his very talented children. And you are not either, so you cannot be witness to anything but our discussion.” Darville scrubbed his face with his hands, acutely aware of his fine, golden hair spilling around his hands. There were more strands of silver in it than he’d noted just a few weeks ago.

Stargods, he was tired. And he wanted a drink, but knew better than to fill his cup now.

“And the Princess Rosselinda?” Lucjemm asked.

“Is sleeping three rooms away. You never saw her.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The scent of fresh bread had shifted from rising to baking while they talked. They’d be called to break their fast within moments.

“Master Lucjemm, consider yourself under my protection. I thank you for your warnings of your father’s aberrant behavior. For now, I shall have Jensen, my squire, escort you to guest quarters where you may clean up before food arrives. You will join us in the family parlor when the bell rings.” Darville stood, ending the interview.

Lucjemm either didn’t understand the signal or needed to prolong this bizarre meeting for some reason known only to him.

“What?” Darville asked curtly when the boy made no move to leave.

“Your Grace, the Princess Rosselinda?”

“What about my daughter?”

“Will she be all right with the . . . the magicians?”

“I trust Lord Jaylor with my life and my soul. In fact I have done so on many occasions. Glenndon is my son, raised by Lord Jaylor and his wife. The girls are Lord Jaylor’s daughters, much beloved. I assure you no harm will come to either my daughter or my son this day.”

“This day?”

“I have no control over tomorrow. We face civil war if your father gathers enough troops to move against me. I can guarantee no one’s safety if that happens. All I can do is my best to protect my family and the people under my care. And my country.”

“What is best for the country, Your Grace?” Lucjemm took on an oddly mature expression in both face and eyes.

“I believe that restoration of the government as defined by the original covenant is best for all concerned. I will do what I have to, to achieve that.”

“And that includes the magicians.”

“Most definitely.”

The king has just condemned himself. I cannot allow him to continue as monarch since he relies so heavily on magicians. All magic must be removed from Coronnan for the safety of all those who have no so-called “talent.” Magicians are as filthy and unreliable as the Rovers that also roam our sacred land.

I regret that my friend Prince Glenndon must be eliminated as well as the king. I’ve never had a friend before . . .

But the princess? My beautiful princess I regret most of all. I may find a way to redeem her, since she showed no talent and no interest in magic before her half-brother entered their household. I believe what she does this day is directed by Glenndon and Lord Jaylor. Any talent she may have now is only borrowed. For their convenience, not for the good of Coronnan.

I will save her if I can. But if she dies in the coming battle to destroy the dragons, then I must accept her passing. Her two younger sisters are too young—not yet transitioned into womanhood—and too frivolous for my purpose. The people, even the power-mad Council, would take offense if I took a girl so immature to wife. I will look to SeLennica to provide me with a royal bride if I must. But my princess is so very beautiful, smart, and . . . and I think I love her.

Wait, my lovely says that is not possible.

She cannot know. It is not in her nature to love. But Linda,
my
Linda loves me as I love her. She has to. I cannot continue this mission if my princess does not love me.

At all cost, I will save her. She is not available for sacrifice, but her father the king and her mother the queen are.