Limits of Power (8 page)

“What
is
that?” she asked. “That pattern … I can't watch it.” She turned away. When she opened her eyes again, she was facing the end of the room and Kieri's desk. She felt the pattern behind her still pulling at her.

“Arian says it's an elven pattern of power,” he said. “She saw one like it in an elven place; they used it to move a distance without walking. She and I feel it, and you do, but the palace servants seem oblivious.”

“But this was never an elven place, was it?” Dorrin asked.

“Not that I knew, but I am sure they put it here. They gave the carpet that hid it, a carpet my steward said never needed cleaning.”

“And those with magery sense it … and use it? Is this how the Lady came and went?”

“So I suspect,” Kieri said. “But any other elf could use it, and more to the point, I believe that is how the iynisin came here. I suspect there might be more such patterns under other carpets the elves gave. When Amrothlin comes back, I will ask him that and how to block them short of ripping up the floor.”

“What do you think he'll say?”

“I don't know that he will answer at all,” Kieri said. “Elves usually don't, but I have to try.”

“Why did you want me to see the pattern?”

“The box of regalia—you said it had a pattern that you traced with a finger and the box opened. I thought perhaps this was the same pattern.”

Dorrin frowned. “A pattern to open things?”

“Yes. A door … or a way …? It might be different, of course. I wish now I had gone into the High Lord's Hall in Fin Panir. The Girdish told me about a pattern there and another in Kolobia; the expedition returned using them. But I was so focused on Paks, I never took the time. Now I need to know: are those patterns like this one? And are there such patterns in Vérella?”

“I hope not,” Dorrin said. “Assassins in the palace were bad enough: kuaknomi would be worse. If there are more of these—and in places we do not know, where none recognize them—” Verrakai House? She could not imagine elves as Verrakai allies, but … kuaknomi? The palace in Vérella … some parts of it were certainly old enough. “You must tell Duke Mahieran about the pattern,” she said.

“I intend to,” Kieri said. “But what about the pattern on that box?”

“I don't think the pattern on the box is exactly the same,” Dorrin said. “But it's complicated; I'd have to see them together to know for sure.”

“You can take a drawing of this one with you,” Kieri said. “Compare it to that one if you have a chance.”

“Anything more?” Dorrin asked.

“No,” Kieri said. “Only remember, Dorrin Verrakai, that you have a friend in me whenever you need one.”

“Thank you.” Dorrin took a deep breath and pushed away the wish that her duty, her lands, and her oath had been in Lyonya. “My oath is to Mikeli now, as you know—”

“Yes. And you have never broken an oath; I know that as well. But I care about your welfare.”

“And I about yours,” Dorrin said, making her tone as light as she could. She bowed. “I should go to Arian now and then check on my kirgan. He has learned much, but I am not sure packing my court clothes is a task within his competence.”

“Go with my blessing,” Kieri said.

Dorrin bowed again and walked out of the office without a glance at that pattern.

She found Arian in the rose garden, pacing the paths. More roses had come into bloom, pink and gold and peach, with a blood-red one in a corner. Others were thickly covered with buds.

“Duke Verrakai,” said one of Arian's Squires near the garden entrance. Arian turned. Dorrin could see the marks of tears on her face, but otherwise her expression was calm.

“I was thinking of my father,” Arian said before Dorrin could say anything. “And of the loss of the elvenhome … and our child.”

“That would bring tears to anyone's eyes,” Dorrin said. “But how are you feeling? Do you really want to travel now?”

“I would if I were bearing,” Arian said. She sat down on a bench and gestured for Dorrin to sit with her. “Staying here will not bring my babe alive again or bring back my father or the Lady and the elvenhome. I have seen nothing but Lyonya—that brief visit to your steading hardly counts. I want to learn, and for that I must travel.” She leaned back, lifting her face to the mild sun. “But it is a long trip, and being away from Kieri so long means … well … the nights. And the chance for another child.”

“Mmmm.” Dorrin put the pieces of conversation together. “I am allowed to know that if the inconvenient Duke Verrakai and her even more inconvenient kirgan can be persuaded to leave, then the queen's Tsaian escort, the noble Duke Mahieran, might be persuaded to stay … until the queen has a chance to … catch a touch of baby?”

Arian snorted. “You put that bluntly, but yes. I told Kieri I didn't want to leave until I was bearing again, and the timing being what it is…” She looked at Dorrin. “It is discourteous to you.”

“No, it is both practical and convenient. You know how it is with my kirgan and his natural father and brother. It's become more awkward every day. It strains my oath to my king, as well. I would rather be on my way. I'm sure I'm needed at home, as I suspect Gwenno and Daryan have gotten into some mischief or other.”

“You mean that?”

“Arian, one of my besetting faults is that I do say what I mean, whether it is in order or not. Be sure I do mean what I said. I like you; Kieri is one of my oldest friends. But I have other responsibilities, and Kieri's given me leave. We're riding tomorrow morning.”

“I'll miss you,” Arian said. Dorrin heard the matter-of-fact tone and knew that Arian had, in spite of everything, made the adjustment to her new role and duties. She hoped the queen would find other friends here, women she could relax with. The Queen's Squires might become such, but that would take time. “And did I ever thank you for what you said when I came to you before?” Arian asked.

“No need,” Dorrin said, shaking her head. “We are both Knights of Falk, sisters of the ruby and the blade, who have fought evil together. Come visit me whenever you please. Though I must be at Midsummer Court and probably again at Autumn Court, you would be welcome any time.”

“I will not be running from anything when I come,” Arian said, grinning. “And I hope you will visit here again.”

Dorrin chuckled. “If Beclan had his way, I imagine we would be here many times a year. He has enjoyed the attention from Lyonyan girls, but the boy has much to learn before I approve betrothal. For myself, I like to know I have friends across the border. I will come back, be assured, and not just on Beclan's behalf.”

“I hope your problems with your king's court are over,” Arian said.

“As do I,” Dorrin said. “But I suspect suspicion will not die so quickly. And now, I really should go check on Beclan. He's supposed to be packing for us.” Dorrin rose.

“And you fear for that gorgeous formal robe?”

“A little,” Dorrin said. “I'll need it later.”

“I'll come in with you,” Arian said.

E
arly the next morning, Dorrin checked the girth of her horse as Beclan held the reins.

“A moment!”

She looked at the palace entrance. To her surprise, Duke Mahieran was coming down the steps.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I wanted to say goodbye to your kirgan,” he said formally.

“Of course,” Dorrin said. She nodded at Beclan, who had been holding her reins. “Go on, Kirgan.”

“I will report to the king,” Duke Mahieran said, “your correct behavior in this situation. It pleases me and will please the king, who granted us leave to speak, that you have adhered to the restrictions. Your—my kirgan, Rothlin, wishes you to know that he admires how you have borne yourself throughout.”

“Thank you,” Beclan said. His back straightened a little.

“And you, Duke Verrakai, have … have done all you ought for the king's honor and your kirgan's welfare. I wish you well.”

“And I, my lord, wish you and your family well, including the king. You should know that we do not ride to Harway, but along a trail the queen told me of—a more direct route to my domain.” He would realize by this that there would be no chance meeting along the way no matter when he chose to leave with Rothlin.

“Go with Gird's blessing,” Mahieran said.

“I should mention,” Dorrin said, “that I propose sending my kirgan to Falk's Hall, where I went, to take his knightly training. Will you inform the king and ask his permission?”

“Of course,” Mahieran said. He bowed and turned away.

“Well,” Dorrin said to Beclan when Mahieran was out of earshot. “That was … not expected. But now we ride. For now, you will take rear guard.” She mounted and turned her horse toward the gate without a backward look.

They made good time through the springtime forest. Dorrin used the time to think about the mysterious pattern as well as about the equally mysterious patterns of power operating among the people of the Tsaian court and between the elves and humans in Lyonya. Would Duke Mahieran's current attitude hold, and would it have any effect on lesser lords? While they were both gone, others would have attended the court at the Spring Evener in Vérella. Were any of them but Arcolin on her side? And would the elves decide to help Kieri, or would they disappear somewhere, using those patterns of power?

S
ix days after the elves left with the Lady's body, Amrothlin returned to the palace in Chaya alone. Other elves, he said, were still singing the Lady's life in the deep forest, though a few had come back to Chaya with him.

“But I promised the king I would return swiftly, and here I am,” he said to Arian. “Do you know where he is?”

“He rode out with Aliam Halveric this morning,” Arian said. He turned away, but she spoke again. “I have my own questions for you about those things my father promised to tell me later. Now he is dead, I will never know from him. You, however, know more of him than I do.”

Amrothlin stiffened. “Arian—lady queen—you cannot ask me—”

“I can and I do,” she said. “For the good of the realm, for the good of my future children, and for the good of Lyonya's elves, I must know those things I am sure you know.”

“You have no right—” His eyes flashed; he looked the same as before the Lady's death, all arrogance. She felt the pressure of his glamour but resisted it.

“I have every right,” Arian said. “As queen, as Dameroth's daughter, and as one who was kept in ignorance far too long, I have the right. Your mother quarreled with my father, but that is no reason for you to continue that quarrel with me.”

“For her memory—”

“For her memory, explain why she made such tragic mistakes,” Arian said, scorn edging her voice. “She admitted one the day I freed you all from captivity underground. You cannot deny that; you were there.”

Amrothlin passed a hand over his face as if to wipe that memory away. Tears glittered in his eyes. He nodded slowly. “It may be easier to tell you than the king,” he said. “What you choose to tell him after—I suppose you will not promise to withhold anything?”

“Indeed not. It is his responsibility and mine to do the best for Lyonya, both taig and people, human and elven. I will not keep secrets from the king. So: why did the Lady hate my father? And why, if she did, did he stay here? Was he another of her children?”

“No,” Amrothlin said. Arian waited. Finally he said, “He stayed because he was commanded to stay. By his father. And I cannot—
must
not—tell you who that is, not without his permission. I have no doubt you will meet him when he learns of your father's death.”

“I do not need more mysteries,” Arian said. She heard the anger in her voice and tried to soften it. “I need answers, Amrothlin. What was my father's full name? For that matter, what did he name me?”