My Mom, Dad, and favorite sister (Irene) for continuing to supply me with encouragement, thoughts,
notes,
websites
, business cards, and the courage to put my words out there in the world.

Irene, again (again,) for finding the title.

Pheobe Boynton for the cover art. Find more of her
art (and costume design) at her
website
.

And
a Very Special Thanks to...

Paul Loester, Jon Lum, Evan Piccarillo, Kevin Sheldon, Sloane Yavarkovsky...

Not to mention...

Noam Bonkowski, Josh Garfinkel, Josh Hendler, Brian Lang, Dan O’Connell, AJ Schabhuttl, Dave Steinberg, and Jeff Withers...

For sharing your imagination with me and for being inspiring characters.

Dedicated
to my favorite sister (still Irene,) who could win a Shakespeare Trivia Contest against the Bard himself.

Is
this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling as to sight? or art thou but

A dagger of the mind, a false creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,

Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

Which was not so before. There's no such thing:

It is the bloody business which informs

Thus to mine eyes.

Macbeth

William Shakespeare

Prologue
: The Tower at Goldmere

There is a small tower outside the city of Goldmere, about fifteen kilometers inland from the southern shore of Avonshire.

It is a boring, gray tower. Rough-hewn stone makes it clear it was built for utility, not glamour. The citizens of Goldmere usually dismiss it as a way-station for guards. It wouldn’t really provide meaningful defense against a dedicated attack, and it can’t house enough soldiers to count as a real reserve.

One night, a carriage rolled up to this tower. It was the dead of night, and there were no prying eyes about. When the guard came out to retrieve the sole passenger of the carriage, he couldn’t help but notice that she was pregnant. About seven months pregnant.

The guard escorted her silently to the dungeon. It was the only reason the Queen would come to this desolate place. To see the dungeon.

The Tower of Goldmere was a prison. A very special prison. There were times, while running a country, when you couldn’t kill someone and you couldn’t let them roam free either. At times like these, you needed to be able to make people disappear. There were only five prisoners at the Tower. Five prisoners that the King had, at some point, decided he needed to lock up without causing a fuss. The guards were sworn to secrecy. They served food with wax in their ears, so they couldn’t share words with the condemned.

Queen Sarah walked down the longest stretch of the dungeon, to the most remote corner, to the last cell.

Jareld stood as soon as he saw her arrive. Despite all that he was feeling, he couldn’t help but try to straighten his matted hair, or comb out his scraggly beard. This would be the first person he had seen in four months who knew his name. Who could hear his words.

For a moment, they stared at one another.

“Aren’t you going to bow?” Sarah asked.

Jareld shook his head.

“You should bow,” Sarah said, “I am still a Queen.”

“You committed treason,” Jareld said. “According to the King James Standard, you would be relieved of your title and executed.”

“Only after a trial. Until that day, I am the Queen.”

“You’re right. Let’s have a trial.”

“Jareld, we didn’t plan it this way. It just happened. Please, please, won’t you forgive us?”

“You don’t need my forgiveness.”

“I can’t get Michael’s forgiveness, so I’m asking for yours.”

“I cannot absolve you of your crimes.”

“Then don’t absolve me. But please, come out of the cage.”

“You can let me out any time you want.”

“But not until you agree to stay quiet.”

Jareld pressed his face against the bars.

“I can’t!” Jareld said, louder now. In the quiet of night, it sounded thunderous. “I have dedicated my life to finding out the truth. I will not perpetuate a lie.”

“But we didn’t want this to happen. This wasn’t done out of malice or greed. This was a mistake. I wanted to have kids, with Michael. I wanted to have a life with him. I loved him too, Jareld. But this happened instead, and now we have to make the best of it.”

“Then I’m afraid you came down here for nothing.”

Sarah sat on a stool in the corridor of the dungeon. Her ankles always appreciated a rest. She pressed her hand to her belly, feeling the baby kick. A child she would have to raise. In a world that she had helped construct.

“Jareld,” she said, her voice cracking, “Please. I can’t sleep at nights with you down here. It’s nobody’s fault. Please. Please go home. Emily has been asking about you. She still believes you’re alive.”

“Tell her I’m dead,” Jareld said. “I don’t want her waiting for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know when you’re going to let me out.”

Sarah grunted as she stood, supporting her hips with both hands.

“I’m sorry, Jareld. We just can’t. We can’t risk it.”

Sarah put her hand on Jareld’s scraggly face. She leaned in and kissed him on his scraggly cheek.

Then, she turned to leave.

“The King will come back one day,” Jareld said. “We had a false King for a century, but Michael emerged from the ashes. It’ll happen again. The King will come back for us.”

Sarah stopped in her tracks and considered these words. She wondered if her own reckoning wasn’t in them somewhere. She sighed and looked over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

And then she left.

BOOK: A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals)

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