The Element of Fire, Martha Wells [books for new readers .txt] 📗

sold to them by a street vendor…”

As Dubell stood lost in thought, Thomas watched the sorceress. Kade Carrion was pacing around the remains of the stage which the servants were dismantling. As she walked around the painted panels scattered on the floor and the stacks of singed planks, he had two distinct impressions of her. The first was that she was only a young girl with a tangled mop of hair and a tattered red dress, not oblivious to the consternation she was causing but not particularly worried by it, either. The other was that here was a creature ephemeral yet solid and real, who walked with the night and the wild hunt. Dubell is the only one who really knows her, Thomas thought. And even he isn’t certain what her game is now.

If she hated her brother and the rest of the royal family as much as she claimed, she wasn’t without motive. Their father Fulstan hadn’t been much use as a king: he had neither Ravenna’s head for finance and diplomacy nor the ability to listen intelligently to advisors who did. The fayre queen Moire had drained him of what vitality and strength of character he possessed, leaving him bitter and old before his time. He had taken out his anger at Moire’s abrupt departure on anyone in his reach, especially on Moire’s daughter. No one directly in his power had mourned his death.

Urbain Grandier, however, had no motive, at least not one that Thomas knew.

Kade might be in league with the Bisran sorcerer, but discovering what she knew wasn’t going to be easy.

Dubell was looking toward the center of the stage platform, where what was left of the Arlequin had burned down into a heap of some foul-smelling dark powder. “Be careful not to step in that black powder,” he called to the servants who were warily clearing away the debris. Then the old sorcerer turned and saw Kade, whose curiosity had already led her ankle-deep into the black powder. She lifted her head, surreptitiously rubbed a stained bare foot against her calf and looked the other way. Dubell shook his head irritably.

The Albon knights had by now arrived in force. There were about forty of them in the gallery now, guarding the arched doorways and the terrace windows, pacing the musicians’ balconies, and watching the sorceress. The rest of their number were patrolling the palace with most of Thomas’s men and the Cisternans.

Behind the dais, Renier emerged from the wide oak door inset with panels of stained glass. It was the gallery entrance to the solar where the royal family had retired to fight things out. He walked up to Thomas and said softly, “Roland wanted to put her under arrest, but Ravenna has talked him out of it. Apparently she’s in favor of giving the sorceress the audience she wants, and trying to settle it quietly.”

Thomas thought wearily, Yes, Renier, tell me all about how the anointed King still can’t win an argument with his mother. He said, “Really.”

Renier either did not recognize the sarcasm or ignored it out of habit. “My guess is they’ll give her the audience.”

Thomas eyed him. “Very likely. I suppose, in the long run, it is better than going to war with her in the middle of the palace, killing everyone who stumbles into the way.”

As Galen Dubell turned back to them, Renier asked, “Dr. Dubell, could you tell what that creature was?”

The old sorcerer nodded, gesturing back toward the ruin of the stage. “It wasn’t fay. It was a construction of wood and animal bone, animated by a very powerful spell, called a golem. I’m not sure, but I imagine it was designed to resist anything the weight and size of a pistol ball. It’s a relatively new technique which I believe will come in quite handy on the battlefield once it’s perfected. Doesn’t help at all for cannonballs, though. The combination of the weight and size…” Dubell recollected himself and shook his head. “But that is neither here nor there.”

“How did it get past the wards?” Thomas asked, looking at the heap of black powder.

Dubell met his eyes frankly. “I’ve done some work with the wards, nothing that should weaken them. They shouldn’t have let this creature pass through. I believe something has affected the ward structure, making the gaps their continual movement creates larger, making those gaps appear in locations predictable to someone. It would take an intimate knowledge of the construction of the wards, at least as great a knowledge as Dr. Surete had, but it would be possible. And, perhaps more disturbing, the spell that caused the golem to shape-change from the appearance of a man to that of the creature we saw here would have to be actuated by someone close at hand.”

Slowly, Thomas said, “You mean the sorcerer was here, in the gallery.”

“Or an assistant, who carried in the charm designed to trigger the golem. I have looked for Grandier’s power-signature, but the ether in this room is free of it.” Dubell nodded to himself. “Yes, I believe it was only an assistant who was here tonight.”

“What a chance to take,” Renier said sourly. “There was a Parscen witchman who tried to cause trouble last year. Surete said there was a disturbance in the wards, and had some of us come with him while he tracked it to the source. We found the witchman hiding in an empty house in the Philosopher’s Cross, sitting on the floor and crying like a baby. Surete said he must have tried to do a sending against someone in the palace, but the wards stopped it and followed his magic back to him and took his mind away. We knew that he tried something because he had more witch-poisons and hair amulets on him than you can imagine, but it didn’t help him at all.”

Dubell’s attention had gone back to Kade; his expression was worried. As well it might be, Thomas thought. Had the golem been activated by a confederate of Grandier’s or by Kade herself? He nodded to Kade, who was still wandering the stage. “Did she tell you why she wanted an audience with Roland?”

“No.” Dubell was silent a moment. “Her abilities here, in the mortal world, are not as great as when she is in Fayre, and it is difficult to fatally wound her with anything other than a weapon of iron, but… It appeared the creature was attacking her?”

“Yes,” Thomas admitted.

“I hope so, for all our sakes.”

The door to the solarium opened and one of the stewards emerged, looking harried and somewhat the worse for wear. He hesitated, then approached Thomas and Renier. He said, “His Majesty will see the sorceress now.”

Thomas said, “Good. Go and tell her.”

The steward blanched visibly.

Thomas relented. “Very well, I’ll tell her.”

As Thomas approached Kade looked up, a strange creature not at all like the child he barely remembered, or the fifteen-year-old girl in the portrait. He said, “His Majesty will see you now.”

She lifted her brows. “Will he?”

“Yes.”

“And I thought he would be so glad to see me he’d have run out into my arms long before this.” There was a bitterness underneath the light irony in her voice.

“You were mistaken.”

“I suppose.” She shrugged, abandoning repartee with a disconcerting abruptness.

Thomas turned and walked back toward the solarium’s door without looking to see if she followed.

After a moment she caught up with him. “This isn’t turning out right at all,” she muttered.

He glanced down at her. “Oh? Who did you plan for the Arlequin to kill?”

She snorted. “You don’t really believe that. And I don’t know who sent it so you won’t find out from me.” Her mouth quirked. “Oh, was I supposed to pale and let something slip at that point? I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else.”

Thomas didn’t slam the door of the solar open with any more force than necessary, and bowed her in with elaborate courtesy.

The old solar wasn’t used much, and the three huge windows covering the further wall had already been shuttered by painted panels in preparation for winter. The scene on the panels was a lurid traditional hunting landscape, subtly at odds with the other paintings on the oak-sheathed walls, the hangings of brocaded satin and striped silk, and the delicately carved furniture. Thomas remembered that this room was one of those that had been redecorated after the death of Roland’s father; the painted panels reflected the old king’s taste, and had probably been left unaltered by mistake. He thought Ravenna might have chosen the room for that rather than its convenience to the gallery.

Roland was slumped in his chair in a sulk, Denzil seated beside him. Falaise’s face was still a little reddened under the powder, as if she had been weeping from anger rather than hysteria. She had chestnut hair and blue eyes, and her natural prettiness had been transformed by her coiffure and costume into fashionable beauty. She wore a blue gown trimmed with gold ribbons and seed pearls, and against the somber colors of the rest of the room she looked like an orchid thrown into a dirty alley. Ravenna was the only one who appeared calm. Her hands were busy on her embroidery and she didn’t look up at their arrival.

There was a stiff silence in the room and the dregs of a bitter argument lay heavy in the air.

Thomas realized it was his duty to announce Kade, the steward having apparently seized the opportunity to escape. Sensing that calling her “the evil fay sorceress” would probably please her no end, he said, “The Princess Katherine Fontainon,” then moved to take his place at Ravenna’s side.

Kade’s fair skin made her helpless against a sudden blush.

Ravenna looked up and said, “How lovely to see you again, dear child.”

Kade curtsied in what had to be an intentionally graceless fashion. “I’m sure it’s just as lovely for you as it is for me, stepmother.”

“I’m not your stepmother, dear,” Ravenna reminded her calmly. “Your mother did not bother with the travesty of marriage with your father, and it would hardly have served the purpose if she had, because he was already my husband at the time. You know this, but it seems to please you to hear me repeat it.”

In a whisper plainly audible to the rest of the room, Denzil said to Roland, “Cousin, this is all too dull.”

Ravenna snapped, “Roland, send him away. This is private.”

Roland glared. “I could ask you to send your paramour away too, mother.”

In the ensuing moment of silence, Kade snickered.

Thomas glanced briefly heavenward. Denzil looked at Roland in irritation as the implication in the unfortunate phrasing of the King’s retort sunk in.

Realizing what he had said and reddening faintly, Roland continued defiantly, “This is a family matter and he is the only one of my family who is truly fond of me.”

“What a sad thought,” Kade added helpfully. “Sad, but true.”

Roland stared at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since she had entered the room. “What do you want here?”

Kade ignored the question. She looked to Ravenna, who had gone back to her embroidery. After a moment the Dowager Queen said, “And how is your dear mother, child?” as if her prepared greeting had never been interrupted.

Ravenna’s expression was as polite as a judge passing sentence; Kade looked ironic and amused. “She’s in Hell,” she said.

Ravenna’s brows lifted. “Wishful thinking, certainly.”

“Oh no, she really is,” Kade assured her. “We saw her go. She lost a wager.”

“My condolences,” Ravenna said dryly, as the rest of the room digested that. Kade had just reminded them all of her strangeness, and Ravenna