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

but now the wooden winter shutters covered the large windows and the fire in the hearth could not dispel the cold. There was no one with him but his personal servants; Ravenna had made sure she would not have to do this under the eyes of any courtiers or hangers-on.

Roland turned the pen over in his hands and got ink on his fingers. “Why?”

She said, “I have something to show you.”

Roland stood reluctantly. “Has something happened?”

Ravenna knew he wasn’t interested in anything besides news of Denzil’s whereabouts and that he would realize she would not be the one to bring such news to him. “Take your cloak; we’ll be going out on the wall.”

Immediately an impassive servant brought a thick fur-trimmed cloak from the bedchamber. Roland stood still for the man to arrange it around his shoulders. “Where’s Renier?”

“Downstairs, attending to the guard placements.”

“Oh.” He followed her through the other rooms in the suite and out to a landing on the grand stairwell. Ravenna could tell Roland was uneasy, even though the four knights guarding the door to his chamber followed them and she was accompanied by her gentlewoman Elaine.

They went up the stairs to a lesser-used floor, then waited as one of the Queen’s guards unbolted a door and forced it open against the wind’s pressure. They walked out onto the wall, which was sheltered by a shoulder-high parapet, and the wind tore through the crenellations like a mad creature.

Ravenna and Elaine each held onto a guard’s arm to steady themselves, and Roland forced himself to walk along unaided. Ravenna held her head down and tried to breathe the shockingly cold air, knowing she would pay for this ordeal later with coughing fits. In the face of everything else, it was a minor consideration.

The sun was making a brief appearance, though dark clouds were visibly building up in the distance. To the north, if one could have forced oneself close enough to the parapet to take in the view, were several miles of snow-covered fields and then the rise of the city, like a man-fashioned mountain range. The wind had torn away much of the haze of wood and coal smoke that normally hung over it, and the snow made it appear pristine and empty. The other side of the wall looked down on the inner court, where Denzil had hosted gatherings in the summer and displayed the little fortress’s wealth and elegance. When they had arrived yesterday, they had found the usual garrison depleted, and the steward had said that the Duke of Alsene had ordered most of his men to one of his other estates to quell some tenant problems over taxes some weeks ago. Messengers had been sent on to the Granges, a day’s ride to the south, to General Villon.

Ravenna wondered if Thomas was alive.

There was no other man she had ever felt closer to, or who had actually understood how her mind worked without condemning her for it. When he had first been accepted into the Queen’s Guard it had not been his political astuteness or his wit that had attracted her, though from the occasional flashes of ironic humor she had witnessed, she had suspected that he might possess those qualities. No, most of that she had discovered later, and that discovery had added more meaning to what had been one of the most pleasurable times of her life.

You’re getting old, my dear, Ravenna told herself. Old and frail and helpless. It was the constant underground war of intrigue that had beaten her down. She and Thomas had once found such subtle battles exhilarating, but now… Palace power struggles had always been intense, but since Roland’s maturity, the battles had escalated into full-scale wars with no clear victors. Denzil had much to do with it, but it was also that the wolves sensed Roland’s weakness. And her options to remedy that were severely limited.

She forced her mind back to the present. Grandier had rendered the court’s tenuous balance of power a matter for future academics to consider. If Thomas was alive, he would come to her when he could. If he wasn’t… That would be for her to face alone.

They were heading toward the old keep, a rough square tower more than seven stories high. It had been the center of the fortress before the bastionbehind them had been built.

They reached the door into the side of the tower, and two of Ravenna’s guards split off to post themselves at it. The others went inside, and Ravenna shivered gratefully. The keep felt warm after the wind. A guard stopped to light a candlelamp with flint and steel, and Ravenna saw that the Albon knights were standing stiffly together as if anticipating an attack they could do nothing to prevent. Roland saw it too and said, “What are we doing here, mother?”

Ravenna didn’t answer immediately. She started up the stairs, the guard with the lamp going on ahead, and there was only room for Roland to walk beside her. Finally she said, “I’ve made allowances for you, where Denzil is concerned.”

She could see he was slightly shocked that she brought this up in the presence of her guards, let alone Elaine. In an effort to outdo her effrontery, he said, “Allowances? You’ve been trying to turn me against him with lies for years.”

Ravenna stopped and looked at her son for a moment. As always, it hurt that he found her eyes hard to meet. She said, “My dear child, I didn’t think you had noticed.”

Roland stared at her. “You admit it?”

“Of course. Recent developments have made it possible.”

She continued on up the stairs, and Roland followed her, bewildered. He said, “I don’t understand.”

“That man has made a fool of you.”

“He has been my only friend—”

“He has used you to accumulate power and wealth beyond his reach under ordinary circumstances.”

“He’s been the only one who cared for me; I gave him all those things—”

“Of course you gave it all to him, Roland; that’s the way these people work.”

Ravenna stopped on a landing and faced him. Roland was out of breath and must have forgotten that he was King and able to order her to be silent, if he could enforce it. He said, “You certainly never showed me any affection. You never gave a damn for me.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Ravenna said. “You look too much like your father, and God knows I never gave a damn for him.” She took a key out of her sleeve and handed it to a guard, who unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Go in there,” Ravenna said.

Roland didn’t move. He was trembling, and his eyes were dark with hatred. He isn’t stupid, Ravenna thought; he must know his cousin’s protestations of eternal love are not sincere. But perhaps he thinks he can earn his respect by doing everything Denzil asks. It made her feel sick at heart, though her expression betrayed nothing. The world doesn’t work in that fashion, and Denzil is not interested in respecting you, my foolish son. The guard with the lamp stepped into the room but stayed close by the wall. After a moment Roland went through the doorway.

Inside was a large shadowy room, dark wood a rough veneer over the stone walls. The back half was filled with wine barrels and other boxes stacked to the high ceiling. “You wanted to show me this?”

“Why would anyone store wine here, Roland, away from the livable portions of the fortress, high up where the air is so very dry, in a place more fit for the storing of other things?” Ravenna nodded to one of her guards. “Open one.”

He went forward and carefully knocked out the bunghole in a barrel at the bottom of a stack. Something dark flowed out. Roland started toward it, stopped when the odor reached him, but still went to kneel and touch the dark granular substance. “It’s powder,” he whispered.

Ravenna said, “The four floors above us are as well stocked as this one. The supply does not quite rival the city armory, but I’m told that it approaches it. More than enough to stage a palace coup.”

Roland lifted his head, saw the pity on the face of the guard who had opened the barrel, then looked back at Ravenna. She knew her expression showed only weariness. She folded her arms. “Surely you are not going to say we brought it with us.”

He shook his head mutely. He stood and walked the length of the row. The lid had already been pried off one of the long boxes, and he lifted the coarse wood to see matchlock muskets packed in heavy cloth.

Ravenna said, “There is another store of powder and shot, a small one, enough to supply the garrison for a few months, set where it should be near the gate. There is only one reason for all this.”

Roland began to tremble. “He will have an explanation.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I’m going back now.” He strode past her and down the stairs.

His knights came to his side, Ravenna’s party following. They reached the landing where the door led out onto the parapet, and Roland stopped, waiting. Ravenna reached him and regarded him quietly for a moment, then nodded for one of her guards to open the door.

As the door swung back she caught a glimpse of the sky and saw it seemed inexplicably dark. Then she saw the body of a man lying half in front of the threshold, before the guard slammed the door and braced his weight against it. “Run,” he said breathlessly. “Something’s out—”

A force struck the door half off its hinges.

Ravenna ran, pushing Elaine in front of her, all thought for the moment purged from her mind. She saw Roland dragged by one of his knights, half flung up the stairs, shoved on when he stumbled.

Below them, the door flew off its hinges and smashed into the wall. Someone fired a pistol and the noise seemed to galvanize Roland and he ran up the stairway with them to the landing. Ravenna grabbed the door there and flung it open, and Elaine stumbled inside. Then Ravenna stopped and looked back. She saw that the guards and knights were trying to hold the stairwell; there was already blood on the floor. There was screaming, and something roared, the sheer volume of sound making the ancient walls tremble.

Roland was standing and watching, blank faced, in shock. He stood there until Ravenna seized his arm and pulled him into the chamber.

Elaine was holding the candlelamp, trembling and wild-eyed with fear. Ravenna shut the door and bolted it, then stepped back, looking around the room and rubbing her hands together. Roland leaned against the wall, watching her helplessly.

There is a way out, Ravenna thought. There was always a way out. She had never been trapped yet, and by God, she wouldn’t be now. “This is a corner room,” she muttered to herself. “There must be…” She took the lamp from Elaine and set it carefully down near the wall, then went toward the back of the room, trying to make her way past the boxes and barrels of powder. “Roland, damn it, help me.”

After a moment he joined her, wrestling a box out of her way but moving stiffly, as if terror had frozen his blood. “What are you looking for?” he gasped.

“This, perhaps.” It was made to look like part of the roughly paneled wall, but Ravenna’s fingers found the edges and Roland helped her lift it away in a shower of cobwebs and dust. It concealed a small wooden door set back into the stone wall. Roland tugged on the iron handle and it came open with