Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series (11 page)

Roen hurried Eloryn to the Duke’s chambers, marked by a doorway inlaid in gold with a design of a lion’s face. He knocked gently. Putting his ear to the door, he listened then took a small step back to wait. Mumbling and shuffling soon turned into the creak of the door. It swung open wide, and a generously built man filled the frame, staring at them with sleep bleary eyes. He wore long rich bed robes, in a deep maroon that lit his whiskey colored beard from beneath.

“What is it, what is it? Roen, son? Why visiting so late?” Lanval held Roen’s hands and patted them. He took a quick, second look at Eloryn’s blood spattered face. “What’s happened? Don’t be bringing me bad news now.”

“Good news, my Lord, great news. Maybe a little bad as well. I’m sorry it’s so late, but we really must talk now.” Roen bent forward in a shallow bow. Lanval put a finger to his lips and stepped out. The doorway through to the bedchamber stood open, and by the warm glow of dying embers, Roen saw Marian, tossing in her sleep on a massive, pillow-strewn bed. He frowned.
She still has nightmares.

Lanval rubbed his eyes. “Never mind, I was awake. Come down the hall, we can talk there without disturbing Marian.” He directed them to another room, a small meeting chamber with walls encrusted in carved flourishes that shone with gold leaf. It held a single elegant table, velvet padded chairs, and a woven tapestry of a captured unicorn.

Lanval took the largest chair at the end of the table, gesturing for the others to sit either side of him. Roen and Eloryn remained standing.

“Introductions, and then you can explain, what is this good news, great news, with a little bad, that is enough to drag me from my bed? News of a betrothal? That would fit the announcement.” Lanval lifted an eyebrow.

“My lord, the news is in the form of an introduction. I fret my upbringing has not left me equipped for such an honor as this meeting. But still. Duke Lanval de Montredeur, this is Eloryn, daughter of Queen Loredanna and King Edmund. We have found the Maellan heir.” Roen bowed his introduction with a small flourish to Eloryn.

Lanval blanched around his beard. He looked at Eloryn for a long moment, his face stern. “Found at last. Well met, Your Highness. It’s good to see that Thayl wasn’t able to destroy all things.”

Eloryn curtseyed. “It is my honor to meet with you, Duke de Montredeur. I’m sorry for the late intrusion.”

“Polite and lovely. Brought up well I see, wherever you’ve been hiding. Seems you’ve had some trouble finding your way here?”

Roen and Eloryn glanced at each other and Roen spoke again. “We have. Before anything else, we must know our trail has not been found leading here to you.”

“There is a risk?”

Roen nodded.

Lanval stood and marched to the doorway, bellowing down the corridor. He turned back to Roen. “What else?”

“Wizard Councilor Pellaine, now by the name Alward. He has been captured and imprisoned here in your city. We hope for news of his escape, or chance for his release.”

Lanval’s fingers drummed against the door. “I’ve had no news. I’m to be informed when any wizard is captured within my borders. This is not well. What of your parents, Roen, are they safe?”

“Last I saw them.” Roen swallowed.

Footsteps hurried up the corridor. Lanval stepped out, closing the door behind him so the small group wouldn’t be seen. Orders were rushed out, the footsteps fled again and Lanval re-entered the room.

“Gawain, one of my trusted. He will look into these matters and let us know quickly if we’ve cause to worry.” Lanval returned to the table. Grumbling out a breath he lowered himself into his seat. “Until then, sit. You make me weary just seeing you stand.”

Roen pulled out a seat for Eloryn then sat down himself.

“So, how?” Lanval stared at Eloryn, rubbing his beard. “No, never mind that. Why, why come to me? I’m happy you’re alive, no doubt, but I won’t be able to shelter you. If you’re not too proud to accept like Roen here, I can provide whatever money you need to find safety elsewhere. But I won’t risk Marian’s safety further than that. Not for anyone.”

Eloryn hesitated, and Roen answered for her. “I would never ask of you what would risk you or the Duchess’s safety.”

“Then ask boy, what do you need?”

“We hope to know if you have contact with any remaining Wizards’ Councilors, or with any who know how to reach them. We feel that until the Princess is able to rule again, she is best safe in their care.”

“You believe so, do you?” Lanval bent forward on the table. It groaned under his weight. “They are hard to find, and for good reason. They’re not only hunted by Thayl. I’ve heard the unseelie fae seek them as well. I don’t know why. The fae have been causing more trouble all over Avall since Thayl has been in power. Would you find safety for your Princess with the most hunted people of this land?”

Lanval leant back in his chair again, gesturing to Eloryn. “And what of the Princess’s wishes, how do her plans meet with yours and your parents, for returning her to the throne? Does she want that, considering she has done naught but hide these last sixteen years?”

“I do not,” Eloryn said in a rush, then dropped her voice, embarrassed. “I only want to find Alward again, to be safe with him. I have no wish to rule, or way to remove Thayl so I could. Even if he were gone, I cannot say I would be the right choice to rule.”

“Ah, a lady of little ambition, after my own heart,” Lanval said with a fond smile.

Roen’s shoulders tensed and he stared at the table. “A Maellan heir is the one hope the people of Avall have held onto during these hard times. We all have paths in our lives we don’t want to take, but we must if it can help others. Your path could help the whole land, you cannot deny that.”

“You speak well, son. And you, dear Princess, best heed him. The people want the Maellan line returned. So will the Wizards’ Council, should you find them. Is this still where you wish to go?”

Eloryn, head bowed and silent, couldn’t have looked more unsure.

Roen nodded firmly. “I still believe it is our best hope for the Princess. If they have managed to remain hidden so long with so many seeking them, then they will be able to keep her safe.”

“Very well. I’ll make inquiries.” Lanval rose out of his chair and shuffled to the door. “Now, it is more morning than night, and for all your youth, you clearly need sleep even more than myself. I’ll send word the moment I hear anything. Pray we don’t hear the worst.”

“You... very good at that, you know. Should be... professional damsel catcher,” Memory muttered, coming back to consciousness.

Warm, padded and covered, she opened her eyes and found herself alone and folded, not neatly, under sky blue covers of a single bed. Still fully clothed, less her shoes. A waft of sweat reached her nose, tainted by fear and turned pungent. She hoped she hadn’t smelt like this last night. Roen and Eloryn were kind even to have removed her shoes.

The previous day came back to her and shame came with it, swallowed by outrage at the feeling. Why should she feel ashamed? She hadn’t known what she was doing. It was an accident if anything. Apart from that poor horse, they were all OK. Or at least she hoped. Eloryn said she could have damaged herself somehow with the magic, but she felt fine, in fact, even better than she remembered. Although she still didn’t remember much.

Memory stumbled out of bed. The sun burned bright lines around the edges of blue velvet drapes. Shades of blue and silver covered every surface of the room, in brocade designs across the walls and a trompe l’oeil ceiling of a cloudy sky. A mirror above a cornflower colored dressing table showed all her scrapes and swelling gone. She poked at the bruising on her ribs through layered clothing, but felt no pain. Her hair, however, was painful even to look at.

“Huh,” she said aloud, wondering where Bill, Ben, Bob and Barry the Bruises had gone. The room echoed. Three doors stood in walls around the room, and Memory had no idea where any led. Door Number One already stood open, revealing an adjoining chamber – just as blue – with another bed, empty and unmade. She really was all alone. Memory stood in the middle of the vast blue room at a loss for what to do next. A latch clicked, making her jump. Roen peeked in through Door Number Two, and seeing her awake, strode in followed by Eloryn. They were both neat and clean, Roen dressed in a fresh white shirt, worn loosely, and Eloryn in her same grey and ivory lace dress that always managed to look perfect. Her hair was no less perfect.
Ambushed by the pretty people. Not fair damn it.

Memory mumbled a curse and made a casual attempt to finger comb her hair, keeping her armpits wedged closed. “Um, morning guys. I just woke up.”

“We were starting to wonder when you would. It’s well into the day,” Roen said, a line of worry across his forehead.

“Guess I needed the sleep. I feel much better though, in a few ways.” Memory pointed to where she’d had a black eye the day before.

“After you fainted, I tried to heal you.” Eloryn looked at her sheepishly. “Your surface injuries healed but there must be trust and consent for a stronger healing, and... I could not reach deeper and wake you. We were so worried for you. Still, I hoped if maybe the cause of your amnesia was more mundane that the healing magic might return some memories to you?”

“No change, but I think I’m OK, apart from desperately needing a shower.”

“The bathroom is just through there,” Roen said, indicating Door Number Three. He propped himself against a wall and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you haven’t been here before?”

Memory shook her head and glared pure irony at Roen.

“Only that you would ask for a shower is curious. Castle de Montredeur is one of the few places in Avall that has such a luxury, thanks to the underground water system that supplies the estate. Still, if you were from around here, I’m sure I would remember you. You’re not the type to go unnoticed,” Roen said with a smirk.

“Not smelling like this anyway-”

A distant knocking made Roen interrupt her. “That sounds like my room.” He opened the door again and leaned out. “Uther! Here, my man.”

“Still not in your room, young sir?” The old servant spoke with laughter in his voice.

“Not the worst place you’ve found me now, is it? You’ve a message for me?” Roen asked.

“The Duke sends word that he requests your presence at the feast and ball this afternoon. That of yourself, and your two lady friends. A formal invitation.” Uther handed Roen a wax sealed envelope.

“I’m not sure my companions have the energy for a social event. Not after last night,” said Roen. Memory swore she saw him wink very unsubtly.

“The Duke thought that may be the case, but instructed that I assure you the ball is a masque, so you may all hide your faces, if you’re feeling a little under the weather,” Uther said, his battle to keep a straight face lost quickly.

“Is that so?” Roen clapped Uther on the shoulder with a returned laugh.

“He is sending the Duchess’s very own handmaidens to see to the dressing of the ladies shortly.” Uther, still grinning, bowed and whispered before he left, “Careful or you may find some competition for these two beauties.”

When Roen closed the door and turned around, both Memory and Eloryn stared at him open mouthed.

“My deepest apologies Princess. It is only an act,” Roen said, walking back into the room. Passing Memory he whispered just within her hearing, “As if there’d be any competition.” With a hint of smile still on his lips, he took a seat at the end of the bed and cracked the seal of the envelope.

Memory, stunned, wondered more about who the two beauties were. Trying to be nonchalant she glanced at the mirror. Hair and clothes were as crumpled as each other; even a few visible wrinkles from her mummy-wrapped slumber still marked her skin.

Maybe being this disheveled would make the Duke more sympathetic to her when they met. She’d take her bruises back if it would mean he’d help her. “Are we going to see the Duke soon?”

Roen shook his head, looking over the letter. “We spoke to him already, last night.”

“Oh, of course you did.”
I bet I wasn’t even mentioned.

Roen read the note from Lanval aloud.

“Your arrival was well timed to match our grand Autumn Masque, which a well connected man within my trust will also attend. I believe him to be the source of the information you seek. Best he also meets the subject of the required information, that he has strong enough reason to trust in sharing it.” Roen closed his eyes for a short moment then smiled. “This is good news, Princess. You’ll be in safe hands soon.”

“Should we really be going out? If Lory looks so much like her mum, what if someone else recognizes her?”

Roen shook his head. “We’re lucky the masque is tonight. I doubt we’ll spend long at the ball, but it gives us freedom to move around the castle without anyone seeing either of your faces. The Duchess’s handmaidens will have you not even recognizing yourselves. Clarice, Saoirse and Lily are the best.”

“It says no more within the letter? No news of Alward?” Eloryn’s voice lifted an octave.

“None, I regret. It also shares no bad news which is our luck, either of Alward or of us being tracked here after what happened yesterday.”

And there it is again. I guess it was too much to hope they’d just let that whole summoning a dragon thing slip,
Memory thought.

“So, whoever you are, Memory, you’ve got some talent in magic,” Roen said. Memory thought he seemed too grateful to turn the topic away from Alward and shot him a glare telling him so.

Eloryn shook her head. She had never seemed more scared of Memory than she did now. “It’s not only that. No one should be able to connect with magic in that way without the use of the magical language. There’s only one other person ever known to be able to do that.”

Roen and Eloryn looked at each other, drawing silent.

“Oh come on, who?” Memory asked, not sure why she needed to know another name that meant nothing to her.

“King Thayl Vaircarn.”

Damn. She did know that name.

“That’s probably not good, is it?” Memory asked, shaken. The few clues she had about herself kept leading to unwanted places.

“It’s hard to say what it means, except that you need to be careful. Careful in what you say and how you say it,” Eloryn told her. “When you cast that spell yesterday, at the same time you spoke, did you feel the connection to magic within you?”

Memory nodded, feeling her chest still toasting away.

“That is what you need to avoid. Better you try not to cast anything at all until we know what has happened to you,” Eloryn said, her gaze turned away from Memory.

“But maybe it’s better I try and learn what I’m doing, so I know how to control it?” Memory said, her voice husky, nearly breaking. “I mean, I did that yesterday completely by accident. I don’t want to have another accident.”

Eloryn frowned, shaking her head slightly.

“Please. It really scared me,” Memory whispered.

“Perhaps just try something simple with her,” Roen said.

Eloryn bit her bottom lip, but nodded. “Something simple then.”

“The verbal light switch looks handy,” Memory suggested.

“Very well, the behest for it is Àlaich las. First, just practice the words. Then focus on what you want to happen. The behest brings to you a wisp, a type of fae made of light, alive, but more a pure energy than a conscious being. Feel the spark of connection within you, and then say the words again,” Eloryn instructed.

“Àlaich las.” Nothing happened.
Fair enough, first try, and the pronunciation is a bit crazy,
Memory thought. She breathed in, trying to stoke the fires in her chest, to feel them burning this time. “OK. Àlaich las.” Nothing again. “Àlaich las?” she whined. Still nothing.

“I suck,” Memory said.

“Maybe something more physical that she can focus on,” Roen suggested.

“Do you wish to demonstrate perhaps?” Eloryn asked.

“I’m sorry, please continue. You’ll be a much better teacher for this than I.” Roen got back to his feet and took a few steps away as if he’d been scolded to the corner by a teacher.

Eloryn took his place at the foot of the bed, and called Memory over next to her. “This is not as simple, and not authorized either, so be wary, if you learn it, not to use it where seen. But it is more
physical
in nature.”

Roen cleared his throat. “Mind, what the Princess can do is somewhat more powerful than normal, and almost always less authorized.”

Eloryn blushed in her usual, annoyingly cute way. “Not powerful, only, well, different. More complicated behests require more words, and it’s more important that those words are correctly used. It’s like speaking a contract. Alward taught me so much of the magical language and I can use it to ask what I need, without learning structured and proven behests. It is the talent of the Maellan line.”

“So, if I pick this stuff up, how do I know what’s authorized?”

Roen sniffed. “Nothing but fewer than a dozen household spells. Light, Branding, warming water, some very basic healing. Metal workers, couriers and doctors can get permits for more but it’s watched carefully and all very arbitrary. Most people realize the law is only there to flush out true wizards. It’s made life harder, and generally better to use no magic at all.”

“Well, if I can’t pick this one up, using no magic at all will be my next choice. So what do we do, Lory?”

“See the hair brush on the dressing table there? Beirsinn fair nalldomh.” Eloryn reached out a hand, and the hair brush flew into it.

Memory swore. “That’s cool. Yeah, I wanna learn that one.”

Eloryn replaced the brush on the dresser, and walked back to Memory, facing her where she sat on the edge of the bed. “You heard the words- beirsinn fair nalldomh. You should be able to easily focus on what you want here. Wisps can be contrary at times. Remember, work on feeling the connection to magic within you as you speak the words.”

Memory repeated the words, again and then again, trying to find some connection inside her. Nothing happened, not a twitch, and she felt frustrated and foolish. “Oh just come here!” she snapped, reaching her arm forward in one last attempt.

Movement. The brush moved, but so did the dressing table. The wooden feet of the dresser cried as it scraped across the stone floor, speeding toward her and Eloryn. Memory pulled her legs up away from it. The dresser slammed into the foot of the bed. It spewed its drawers out onto the covers, wood splintering against the bed frame. Eloryn moved too slowly, saved only by Roen’s speed, the professional damsel catcher in action. He grabbed and spun her out of its way.