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

THE WIND HAD changed direction and emptied the night sky of clouds; stars were visible for the first time in days.

Lord General Villon had set up a command post on the siege wall of St. Anne’s Gate, under the light of lamps and torches placed all along the high crenellated battlement. Thomas leaned on an embrasure and watched as the old General paced up and down, consulting with his officers through the couriers continuously reporting in. The snow and ice were melting rapidly and it was warmer now than it had been at twilight.

Villon had wanted to bring Roland back into the city as soon as possible. His men were clearing the palace of any remaining fay and Alsene troops, with the help of the sorcerers from Lodun who had arrived at nightfall just after Villon. It was Grandier’s manipulation of the weather that had drawn their attention and brought them to investigate. Lodun had never received any of the messages Ravenna had sent out before the attack.

Thomas didn’t know where Roland was and hadn’t asked. He knew the young King had been taken to some secured place inside the city wall. Falaise was at the Bishop’s Palace; he had approved Gideon’s suggestion that she be taken there a few hours ago. Some of the court at least had returned, and the rest of his own men and the Albon Knights were here helping to hunt down the last of the Alsene troops.

Fire occasionally blossomed in the dark canyons that were the streets of the city below: the lamps and torches of patrols or of townspeople hesitantly venturing out. They expected reinforcement in the form of the royal garrison at Portier to arrive sometime in the morning. Villon had learned that frantic messengers from the mayor of a village on the trade road had been sent there and to the Granges, bearing confused tidings of a massive attack.

Thomas had deliberately removed himself from the action. He had been with Villon for the past few hours, answering questions and directing him to the areas where Denzil’s men might be concealed. Now he was merely waiting.

Recently he had noticed that time seemed to be passing in short stretches bordered by periods of less-than-coherent thought, and that his only support was the rough stone of the battlement. At one point he noticed that Berham was standing next to him, and had apparently been there for some time.

There was a new flurry of activity along the wall as Villon’s cornet officer arrived with Dr. Conadine, one of the Lodun sorcerers. After a long consultation with them, Villon turned and came toward Thomas. The General was a small man, half a head shorter than Thomas, with graying dark hair. He had been one of Ravenna’s oldest friends, having grown up with her on her father’s country residence. Villon said, “They’ve taken our good Duke of Alsene. He’s confessed to Aviler.”

Thomas was not so far gone that he misinterpreted the General’s expression. “And?”

“He’s embellished somewhat, trying to make it look as though it were a misunderstanding.” Villon’s expression became deeply ironic. “That’s to be expected. But he also says he killed the sorcerer Urbain Grandier. Conadine truth-tested him, and he’s not lying.”

Thomas looked at the night-shrouded city that was slowly creeping out of hiding. “I know.”

Villon nodded, letting out his breath in resignation. “Of course, we look at it and say he’s cutting his losses. It’s only sense for a man to dispose of his confederates when a plot like this goes wrong. But the boy won’t see it that way.”

Roland had always been “the boy” to Villon. Still looking out at the city, Thomas said, “Denzil sent the Unseelie Court to take Roland prisoner and kill Ravenna.”

“No, Grandier did.” Villon was not arguing the point, but stating the facts as Roland would see them. “But he made a mistake in not killing Aviler. There’s no getting around the point that Denzil brought a private troop into Vienne for the purpose of forcibly removing a High Minister from his home, killing a number of city guardsmen engaged in their rightful duty, not to mention a great lot of folk who were driven out into the street and killed by those demon creatures. And he didn’t put that troop at the King’s disposal, but used it for his own business which involved imprisoning warranted officers of the crown.” Villon shook his head. “If Ravenna were alive I’d order the scaffold built. As it is… There was only one hope, but too many people saw us take him alive. He made sure of that.”

Thomas felt Villon expected a response, so he said, “He would.”

Villon’s gaze went to the city. “You can’t help us anymore tonight. Go back to the Guard House.”

After a moment, Thomas smiled. “You’re bringing Roland back to the palace and you want me out of the way.”

“She taught you everything she ever knew, didn’t she? Everything the boy should have learned.” Villon sighed. “Do you think you can control your desire for martyrdom and let me manage this?”

Desire for martyrdom? Thomas thought. “I don’t have to be here, you know. I had two better offers.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Of course it is.” Thomas pushed away from the wall and turned to leave.

“The boy won’t think so,” Villon called after him.

Thomas decided to walk along the wall as far as he could before going down to the courts below. The sky was beautiful. Berham was following him, and Thomas noted the servant still had the two pistols he had given him the night of the first attack. When they had walked awhile Thomas said, “I’m going to send you and Phaistus over to Renier.”

“Respectfully, Sir, I’m a forgetful man, and I don’t think I could remember that I was Lord Renier’s servant after all the years of being yours, so if I were asked—” Berham shrugged. “I would just have to speak my mind.”

“That was a very gentle threat.” Thomas smiled to himself.

“I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”

The wind picked up, cool but without the frozen edge that took the breath away. They walked along in silence for a time, then Thomas suggested, “You could get yourself up as a highwayman and terrorize the trade road.”

Berham chuckled. “There’s a thought; there’s a thought indeed.”

*

Even though the Old Courts had been taken over by the Host shortly after the evacuation, the Queen’s Guard House had not been much disturbed. Thomas wondered if the sigils Kade had put on the cornerposts had been more effective than she had realized. As he came into the entryway, he could see that the lamps were lit in the practice hall, and there were Queen’s and a few of the remaining Cisternan guards there. Out of the original hundred and twenty men in the Queen’s Guard, over seventy had survived, and that was more than he had expected. Deciding to avoid the occupied areas of the house, Thomas trudged wearily up the side stairs.

Phaistus was in the anteroom, building up a fire in the hearth. The bedchamber beyond was musty and cold. Thomas stripped off his buff coat and what was left of the doublet beneath, left them in a ragged bloodstained pile, and sat down on the bed. After a moment he fell over backward and stared at the underside of the tester.

He fell into a kind of half-conscious doze, only dimly aware of Berham and Phaistus rustling familiarly around the room and laying a fire in the hearth.

He said “ouch” quite distinctly when Berham pulled his boots off. The servant leaned over him a moment, then said, “Is there something you want us to see to?”

Thomas shook his head. He heard the door shut as the two servants left, and in moments he was asleep.

It must have been hours later when he opened his eyes and Kade was kneeling on the bed, leaning over him. She grinned. “Surprise.”

*

Eventually Thomas brushed a tendril of hair back from her forehead and said, “It’s a long time since I’ve been with a woman who giggles.”

Despite the awkwardness of mutual bruises, cuts, and claw-marks, they were good together. There wasn’t any other woman he would have felt comfortable making love to in this condition, but there wasn’t any other woman who would have pounced on him like that either. He had been trying to decide what would be worse: a taste of what the next twenty years could have been like, or never knowing at all. He was glad she had taken the decision out of his hands.

“Don’t brag,” Kade said, smiling. “I know there have been hundreds of others.”

“Not quite hundreds.”

There was a scratch at the door and Berham’s voice whispered harshly, “Captain, there’s a couple of Albons downstairs. They were sent to tell you the King’s giving an audience and he wants you there.”

Couldn’t he have waited one damn day? was Thomas’s first thought. Reluctantly, he rolled off the bed, found his clothes, and started to dress.

Kade sat up