Fire and Sword (34 page)

“He is,” Olio said levelly.

“I must be getting old or senile,” Edaytor said. “I don’t understand what is going on here.”

He left the kitchen for the special room again. He bent over the man in the bed. There certainly seemed to be nothing wrong with him. Edaytor took a deep breath to clear his mind. And was struck by that smell again, but this time it was much stronger. He quickly looked around him. Where could it be coming from? It was almost as if the whole room was charged with—

No. He couldn’t have.

He returned to the kitchen. Olio was looking at him almost sheepishly.

“You used the Key by yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Edaytor pulled out a seat and sat at the table next to Olio. “What happened?”

“I’m not quite sure. I was standing over the p-p-patient, waiting for you to turn up, when it just happened.”

“It can’t just happen, your Highness,” Edaytor said. “Magic doesn’t work like that.”

“M-m-maybe there’s more to the Key than just m-m-magic,” Olio said.

“Why didn’t you stop?” Edaytor asked, his tone abrupt. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Why are you so concerned?”

“I’ve warned you about the Key’s power. You know what it can to do to you even if you use it with a magicker’s help. Why did you do it?”

“Because I could,” Olio said simply.

“Your Highness—”

“I’m tired of this interrogation, Edaytor.”

“I see,” Edaytor said slowly.

“Are you so angry because you were left out?” Olio asked.

Edaytor blushed with sudden anger. “I don’t deserve that.”

Olio, who realized how hurtful his words had been, blushed then as well. “I am sorry, m-m-my friend. I did not m-m-mean that. But p-p—please understand, I did not have that m-m-much control over m-m-my actions in that room. I knew I could stop it if I really concentrated, but I didn’t want to stop it. It seemed as if I was m-m-meant to be there at that p-p-precise time to carry out that p-p-precise task.”

The prelate did not know what to say. He was afraid for the prince, for he was not trained in magic and the Key of the Heart was a much more powerful item of magic than any even he had come across before. Perhaps it could influence the prince to such an extent he was no longer entirely responsible for his own actions.

There were footsteps outside, and a moment later the priest entered the kitchen.

“Ah, Father!” Olio stood up in greeting. “I was wondering—”

Someone else came in behind the priest.

“P-p-primate P-p-powl,” Olio said quietly. “Delightful.”

Edaytor stood up, too. “This is a surprise,” he managed to say.

Powl smiled humorlessly at them. “I have no doubt. Please, your Highness, Prelate Fanhow, sit down. You both look exhausted.”

The two men sat down. The priest mumbled an excuse and left the room. Powl remained standing, looking carefully at the two men. “I think I deserve an explanation at last,” he said.

Olio and Edaytor exchanged quick glances.

“We had always meant to come to you,” Edaytor started, “but the right opportunity never seemed to come up.”

“It has now,” Powl countered.

“So it seems. Your Grace, we—that is, the prince and I— or rather the prince by himself, now—we—him, I mean, now, but before with me or with someone like me—I mean a magicker, of course ... Where was I up to?”

“What he m-m-means to say,” Olio said, “is that we entered an arrangement with your p-p-predecessor that allowed m-m-me to heal the dying using in combination the p-p-power of the Key of the Heart and the ability of a m-m-magicker, usually the p-p-prelate.”

“I was not far wrong, then,” Powl said. “I assumed the Key had something to do with it, but assumed you, your Highness, merely provided it while the prelate here did all the real work.”

“What are you going to do now?” Olio asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Will you close down the hospice, or tell Areava about what we are doing?”

Powl’s surprise was obvious. “Close down the hospice? Why? And doesn’t Areava already know?”

“The hospice was started under the understanding that the prince’s involvement would be kept secret,” Edaytor explained. “My concern was that the prince would be mobbed if word got out that he could heal the sick.”

“It is indeed a wonderful miracle,” Powl admitted. “But surely some kind of official office could have been established to deal with that—”

“Olio cannot perform the healing too often, or he suffers for it”

Powl waited for more information, buy Edaytor would say no more.

“Suffers?” the primate prompted.

“It tires me,” Olio admitted.

Powl bowed his head and thought for a moment. “It does more than tire you, doesn’t it?” he asked eventually. “Two of my novitiates found you on the street once, remember?”

Olio sighed unhappily. “Ah, that was you in the room that time?”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, your secret was safe even from me: Primate Northam refused to tell me what you had been doing. Your drunkenness, however, was a secret from no one except your sister.”

“She learned of it, nonetheless,” Olio admitted.

“And now? How do you handle the strain now?”

“Well, I think,” the prince said a little too quickly. Powl saw Edaytor look down at the floor.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“I cured a p-p-patient b-b-by m-m-myself tonight for the first time.”

“You used the Key’s magic without the prelate’s help?”

Olio nodded.

“This is astounding,” the primate said, more to himself than the others.

“What will you do?” Olio asked.

“Do? Nothing, I think. What can I do? I will not stop you carrying out your work at the hospice, as long as you guarantee me that you will never place your own life at risk here.”

“I do p-p-promise that,” Olio said.

“Well, then, we have come to an understanding. I hope both of you feel you can trust me more readily.”

“Yes, of course,” Edaytor said quickly.

“I am sorry we did not do so earlier,” Olio added.

“Well and good. I will leave you two alone, then.” Powl put a hand on Olio’s shoulder. “Your Highness, if there is ever a time you need assistance or some comfort, I am always at your service. I know you held my predecessor in high regard and with great affection, but although he is gone and I am now in his place, the function and purpose of the office of primate had not changed.”

“Thank you,” Olio said sincerely. “I will not forget.”

Dejanus held out a full flagon of cheap wine. “Well, Hrelth? This or a penny?‘

Hrelth, still hugging his lantern, knew the wine would warm him better and reached for the flagon. Dejanus laughed and pulled it away.

“First, you take me to the hospice. It is dark and you have a lamp.”

Hrelth said nothing but scampered down the street, followed by Dejanus. He had to stop every twenty paces or so for Dejanus, who was still feeling the effects of his drinking bout, to catch up.

Eventually they reached the street where Hrelth had set up watch. He pointed to a dark window. “That is where I saw the magic.”

Dejanus checked no one else was on the street and went to the window. He cupped his hands on either side of his face and peered through the glass. He could only dimly make out the shape of a bed and someone lying in it. He grunted and moved back to where Hrelth waited.

“There’s no prince there now,” he said, unhappy he had crawled out into the cold night for nothing.

Hrelth suddenly put a finger to his lips, then pointed farther down the street. A sliver of light appeared, and a dark shape emerged. “Thank you, Father,” the shape said to someone still inside. “Good work tonight.”

“That’s the primate’s voice,” Dejanus whispered.

Hrelth was not sure if he was supposed to comment or not, but decided that saying nothing was the safest course.

The sliver of light disappeared, and the dark shape left behind turned and started walking away from the couple watching him.

“I must follow,” Dejanus decided suddenly. “The primate and I have things to talk about.” He handed the flagon to Hrelth. “You stay here and keep an eye on the hospice. I’ll be back later.”

Hrelth took the flagon gratefully and squatted down in the street.

Areava was woken by a sudden spasm of pain. At first she thought it had just been a dream, but then she noticed her sheets were wet. Another spasm made her gasp in surprise.

“God, it’s happening!” she cried. “Too soon! Two months too soon!” She put her hands over her belly, expecting to feel the baby moving. The shape felt different, but there was no kicking or wriggling.

She waited for the pain to pass and got out of her bed. It was harder to do than she would have thought possible. She half-walked, half-waddled to the door to her bedchamber and pulled it open. Two surprised guards snapped to attention. They caught a glimpse of her Majesty in a nightgown and averted their eyes.

“Get Doctor Trion,” she told them, her voice heavy, and disappeared back inside.

Powl had almost reached the palace gates when a dark shape suddenly loomed in front of him. He was too surprised to be afraid. There was not enough light by which to see a face, but there was no mistaking the bulk.

“Good evening, Constable,” Powl said. “What are you doing out at this hour?”

“I might ask the same thing of you,” Dejanus returned.

Powl could smell the wine even from two paces away, and was irritated by the sharp reply to what he thought was a perfectly amiable greeting.

“Visiting one of my priests, if you must know,” Powl answered.

“I am the constable. It is my job to know ...” Dejanus spread his arms as if he was trying to encompass the whole city. “... everything about everything.”

“That’s ambitious,” Powl said dryly.

“I am an ambitious man. Indeed, we are both ambitious men.”

Powl started, immediately suspicious. “What are you talking about?”

Dejanus laughed; the sound was like rocks rolling down a hill. “We have something in common. We both have secrets.”

Powl caught his breath. “I have no secrets.”

Dejanus put a huge arm around the primate’s shoulders and bent his face down near his. Powl winced at the smell of his breath. “Everyone has secrets. I bet even God has secrets. But I know some of yours. Do you want to know some of mine?”

Powl removed the man’s arm and said coldly, “I have no secrets that you could know about. And I am certainly not interested in yours.”

Dejanus, even in his semi-drunken state, could hear the growing alarm in the priest’s voice. So what
was
going on in that hospice? He put his arm around the priest again and drew him in.

“Believe me, your Grace, you would be very interested in my secrets. My secrets can tear down monarchs and put new monarchs in their place. My secrets can curdle milk and kingdoms. My secrets are so heavy that when I die I will sink straight to the underworld.”

Powl was now afraid. What was this oaf talking about?

“You are playing at the high table now, Primate Powl. You need friends.”

“I have friends,” Powl said angrily and twisted away. “I am the queen’s confessor, and I am a close associate of Chancellor Orkid Gravespear.”

Dejanus scowled at the priest, and then started laughing again. “You are no longer confessor to anyone but yourself, your Grace, and Orkid Gravespear has secrets as dark as mine.”

Powl pushed past the constable. He heard the man’s laughter follow him all the way to the palace gates.

The midwife used her hand to explore the queen’s body, keeping her eyes always averted. She was not so coy with any other patient, and the truth was Areava would have no objection to her using all her senses, but she felt that the majesty of the monarch should be preserved whenever possible.

“There is some dilation,” she said. “How often are the spasms apart?”

“I’ve only experienced them once,” Areava replied.

“Well, this is your first child, so we can expect a long labor,” Doctor Trion said.

He rested his palm against Areava’s forehead. “Good, good,” he muttered to himself.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Do? Why, your Majesty, you wait. And then you suffer. And then you are a mother.”

“The baby is too early.”

Doctor Trion tried to hide his concern. “I have delivered many early babies. Some are impatient to see the world for themselves, and since this is a Rosetheme, and you tell me it is a girl and I believe it, I do not think anyone in the kingdom will be surprised she wants to make an unexpected appearance.”

“I want my brother here. I want Olio.”

“I will see that someone gets him,” Trion assured her.

Hrelth had finished most of the flagon of wine Dejanus had given him. His fingers and toes were now quite warm, and his cheeks felt flushed. He stretched out a little. His head lolled back and his eyes closed. He did not see the prince and prelate leave the hospice. He did not wake when a rat crawled over his legs. His hand twitched, knocking over his lamp. The lamp rolled down the street and bumped into the hospice wall. The glass cage cracked, and burning oil spilled out. Yellow flame spurted up the wall, caught and consumed dry leaves on a window sill, travelled up a thatch fill to the roof, growing all the time, and then caught the tail end of the onshore breeze that riffled among all the rooftops of the city’s old quarter.

Kumul lay awake in the early hours of a new day, his first in the civilized lands east of the Algonka Pass for many months. It was hard for him to believe that spring was almost over. He had forgotten how long it took a large army to march any distance, even one as mobile as the Chetts‘. In some ways it seemed a lifetime ago when he and his friends had crossed into the Oceans of Grass. Since then his prince had grown into adulthood and become a leader among warriors; the world he had lived in all his life had been turned upside down; the sureties of his past had become the uncertainties of his future. Most of all, he thought with wonder, Jenrosa Alucar had fallen in love with him.

How and when he had fallen in love with her was a mystery to him, and in that way seemed typical of all the other changes in his life. Before he had not been sure whether or not those changes were for the best, but now—in the cold early morning of a new day, and perhaps a new era for the whole kingdom of Grenda Lear—he suddenly found himself willing to embrace the changes wholeheartedly. Lying there in the dark, the warm body of his beloved Jenrosa by his side, the future had started to take shape, and he could see a path through the turmoil to a brighter and happier life.

Kumul propped himself on one elbow and gazed down on Jenrosa’s sleeping face. She was like no other woman he had ever been with before. She actually loved him, and without reservation. Jenrosa did not seek power or influence or wealth; she wanted nothing but the chance to learn about herself and be with him.

Pride and loved swelled in Kumul and he leaned over to kiss Jenrosa’s forehead. Without waking, she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him down so his head rested between her breasts. He closed his eyes and felt himself slowly drift off to sleep again, his fading thoughts measured by the beat of her heart.

The grass was too green and the sky was too pale, and the landscape was closed in by forests and wooded hills and streams and creeks. Lynan felt a stranger in his own land.

His army had left behind the Barda River two days after crossing the Algonka Pass and was now deep into Hume. The supply wagons had slowed their rate of progress, but his scouts were roving far and wide. That morning two of them had returned with three of their opposites from the army of Grenda Lear whom they had killed in a night action only hours before.

Lynan felt almost too tense to think, and he wondered if this was how his father had felt before a battle. Perhaps, he thought, but Elynd Chisal never had to worry about the consequences of attacking his own people.

He heard riders approach, and looked up to see Kumul, Ager, and Jenrosa.

“You wanted to see us, lad?” Kumul asked.

Lynan was not sure how to say what he had to say to them. They knew—they must have known—what would happen once they crossed into the east, but how ready were they for the reality?

“We have made contact with Areava’s army,” he said at last. “They are only three or four hours’ march to the east of our position. Korigan is preparing our forces to attack.”

He let the words sink in. Ager and Jenrosa seemed frightened, and Kumul’s face had paled almost to the color of his own skin.

“Well, we knew it would come,” Kumul said huskily.

“It has to, my friend,” Lynan said, wishing he had words that could make it easier for all of them. “I know no other way to end this, not now.”

Kumul nodded stiffly, then said, “My lancers are ready. They’ll be no match for the knights of the Twenty Houses, but against any other regiment they’ll do fine.”

“Jenrosa?”

Jenrosa breathed deeply. “As Kumul says, it had to come.”

“And your magic? What does it say to you?”

Jenrosa had told no one except Kumul about her dream of Silona, not even Lasthear. “Sorrow, and ...” She closed her mouth. She could not tell Lynan what she had seen. The dream might have meant nothing.

“And?” Lynan urged.

“If my magic is true, you will soon have the Key of the Sword around your neck.”

Lynan’s eyes widened in surprise. “You saw this?”

“I think so. I think this is what my vision showed me.”

“And not the Key of the Scepter?” Ager said.

Jenrosa shook her head. “I did not see that.”

“What can it mean?” Ager asked.

“I do not know.”

“It is enough,” Lynan said. “To win the Key of the Sword, we must win the battle.”

“I cannot say,” Jenrosa said, answering Lynan’s unspoken question.

“Ager, do you ride with your clan?” Lynan asked.

“Of course.”

“Then stay with me in the center with Gudon and the Red Hands. Kumul, I want your lancers in reserve. The enemy will be expecting horse archers, though not in the number we have. The lancers will be an extra shock to them, perhaps the deciding one. The gods go with us.”

They silently regarded each other, each of them thinking something more should be said, but none knowing what it was. Kumul was the first to move, wheeling his horse around and galloping back to his lancers. Jenrosa followed him.

Ager gently tapped his horse’s flanks, then suddenly reined in. “Lynan, are you prepared for what comes after the battle? Because I’m not.”

Lynan did not know and wanted to answer truthfully, but said instead: “Yes.”

“Good,” Ager said, and then was gone as well.

Lynan felt nauseous and tired, and that somehow he was not only betraying the land of his birth but his friends as well.

“What’s that?” Edaytor asked, pointing back the way he and Olio had just come.

At first Olio did not see anything out of the ordinary. The dawn sky was a pale, washed-out blue, and in the distance he could see tiny pennants fluttering from the masts of ships in the harbor. Then he noticed a ruddiness in the skyline above the old quarter. “I don’t know.”

For a moment they stood there watching, and then at the same time they saw the lick of yellow flame leap from one roof.

“Oh, no,” Olio murmured.

Edaytor gripped his arm. “Go back to the palace and sound the alarm, your Highness. I will go with all speed to the Theurgias of Fire and Water. They can help.” Edaytor ran off with all the speed his large body would allow him.

Olio started running toward the palace when he heard the alarm. One of the guards must already have seen the flames.

He stopped. There was nothing more he could do there. He was needed in the old quarter. He turned around and ran back the other way.

The spasm came so quickly that Areava could not help the groan that escaped from her lips.

“Damn!” she shouted, surprising Doctor Trion and the midwife who hovered nearby.

“Your Majesty, are you all right?”

“Another contraction,” she said breathlessly. And then another wave of pain came. She pressed her lips together, but it was no good. She groaned again.

The midwife waited until the contractions had finished, then explored the queen again. Areava was so exhausted by the effort of controlling herself that she barely felt her.

“Two fingers’ span. Good.”

“What’s best?” Areava asked her.

“A span of around eight fingers. Then your daughter will be ready to come out.”

“Eight fingers! I have to wait for you to be able to shove—”

“Madam, please!” the midwife implored. “I do not shove—”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

One of her maids stood beside her and placed a damp cloth against her brow. It helped.

“Is the pain really so bad?” she asked patronizingly.

“Are you a virgin or something?” Areava said shortly.

The maid blushed.

“God, you are,” Areava breathed, and ridiculously felt like laughing. “And who’s ringing those bloody bells?”

* * *

As soon as Galen received the message from Sendarus, he turned the regiments of knights around and returned to the main portion of the army. They got there just over an hour later, when dew still covered much of the ground. He saw that the army was being deployed, facing west across a wide, mainly flat plain. Archers lined the rise midway across the plain, and the infantry were arrayed into loose columns behind them and were in the process of marching left and right along the line to form the flanks. Some cavalry was already positioned on the far left flank. Galen found Sendarus in deep conversation with Charion, and was pleased to see they were not shouting at each other as they had been for most of the time since leaving Daavis.

“What has happened?” he asked as soon as he reached them.

“A few scouts on our left flank failed to report in,” Sendarus said. “I sent a larger scouting party to find out what was happening.”

“And they haven’t come back either,” Galen guessed.

Sendarus nodded and pointed to the west. Galen could see clouds of birds winging their way. “Whatever’s stirred them up is very large. Salokan?”

Sendarus shrugged. “How could he have made such a wide detour without us detecting him? It must be him, but I don’t understand how he’s done it.”

“It may not be Salokan at all,” Charion said seriously.

“What do you mean?” Galen asked.

“Her Highness thinks it may be a second Haxus force, coming in from the Oceans of Grass.”

“Mercenaries? This Rendle that Areava was so angry about?”

“Possibly.”

“If it is, do you think he has been in touch with Salokan?”

“No way of knowing. If he has, we can probably expect him to be bearing down on us already, but whether to hit us on the flank or to join Rendle before making a combined assault, we don’t know.” Sendarus licked his lips. “There is another possibility.”

“Which is?” Galen asked.

Sendarus and Charion spoke at the same time. “Lynan.”

A whole street seemed to be on fire. Flames belched into the air as houses built from nothing but old wood and thatch ignited. Screaming people were jammed into the street, some of them on fire, some of them bleeding from burns and wounds caused by falling timber. Children slipped and if not caught up right away by their parents were trampled underneath by the panicking mob.

Olio tried to force his way though the mass to get to the stricken, but could make no headway. He grabbed one man by the arm and showed the Key of Power. “I am Prince Olio!” he shouted. “Help me get these people out of the way!” But the man shook his arm free and fled as fast as his legs could carry him. He tried with another man, and then a woman, but their reaction was the same as the first.

“God’s death!” he shouted. “Will no one help me?”

The mob swept by him, forcing him against a wall. He heard a crack above him and looked up to see a roof smoldering, and then all at once catch fire. Flames seemed to leap over his head to the roof of the house on the opposite side of the street, and it, too, went up in flames. The heat was unbearable. He retreated to the end of the street, ducked in a doorway and waited for the mob to pass him by. When he emerged, he found that a handful of men and women had also stayed their ground, desperate to do something but not knowing what. He went to the nearest, a woman, and showed the emblem of his authority.

“Where is the nearest well?” he asked.

“A block away!” she said. “But we have no buckets to get water!”

“Make
sure there is no one left inside these houses,” he shouted, pointing to all those homes that were still free of the fire. “And collect as many buckets and pans as you can—anything that will carry water!”

The woman nodded, passed the word to another, and then another. In a short time there was a gang of about twenty people, all with a container of some kind.

“Form a chain to the well. We need to douse with water all the houses in the next street so the fires doesn’t spread.”

Other people came to see what was happening and, without being asked, joined in, but in a few minutes Olio could see their efforts were wasted. They could not get to the other end of the street where the fire was still spreading, and they could not carry enough water at this end to make any difference. The fire was leapfrogging houses now, sparks blowing from roof to roof, shining in the dark, smoky sky like miniature shooting stars.

“It’s no good!” Olio told them. “Get to the harbor. Carry any who cannot get there themselves!”

At first some people ignored him, desperately trying to save their homes, but eventually the heat from the flames even drove them away.

Olio found an old man with only one leg who was struggling to keep up with the crowd; he was leaning against a corner post, bent over and gagging. Olio hooked an arm around the man’s shoulders and helped him along.

“Thankin‘ ya, sir,” the man said between bouts of coughing. “Thankin’ ya.”

A little way on they came across a small child, crying, standing by herself under the lintel of an open door. Olio shouted to a passing youth to take the man, then went to the child.

“What’s your name?” he asked, picking her up.

“I can’t find my mumma,” she said.

“We’ll find her, darling. What’s your name?”

“Where’s my mumma?”

The contractions were now less than two minutes apart. Areava was covered in a film of sweat. Her nightgown and the sheets on her bed were soaked, and the smell of them made her want to gag.

“A span of five fingers,” the midwife said.

“Find Olio,” she said desperately. “Find my brother. Find Prince Olio.”

“There is nothing he can do for you, my lady,” the midwife said, trying to sound stern.

“He has the Key of the Heart,” she said. “The Healing Key. He can help the baby.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Find him!” Areava screamed, and the midwife scurried off. A second midwife took her place and curtsied.

“I don’t believe this,” Areava moaned, then tensed as the contractions started again.

The first flight of arrows fell short, and even as the second flight was on its way Lynan was suddenly surrounded by twenty of the Red Hands. This time the arrows found targets. One of the Red Hands screamed and fell from her horse. Lynan heard other screams nearby.

“Spread out!” he ordered his bodyguard. They ignored him. “Listen to me, we’re just making a bigger target for them! Now spread out!”

It was not until Gudon repeated the order that they reluctantly moved away from their charge. Another flight of arrows fell among them. Ager galloped over to him. “Where are they shooting from?”