Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) (10 page)

“
But something
’
s gone wrong,
”
Pirse insisted.
“
I haven
’
t met anyone on the road who would face me. What have you done? Abdicated to Hion? Agreed to have Emlie marry Damon?
”

Her continuing mild stare maddened him. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a furious shake, and got no more response than if he hadn
’
t touched her. She seemed to still be alone, her words not answers to his question, but merely thoughts spoken aloud to herself.

“
Mother, let me help.
”

“
Shapers should stay to their own lands. Hion has no business in Dherrica. I told him that.
”

Fear, an acid bite at the back of his mouth, began to burn into his mind as well.
“
Mother, when is Emlie coming home?
”

“
She
’
s dead.
”

Pirse stared, appalled, into gray eyes the mirror of his own. The mirror of Emlie
’
s. He tightened his grip on his mother
’
s shoulders, clenching his fingers with what he knew was bruising force, but she remained oblivious to him.

“
No,
”
he croaked. It was a lie. If he left this madwoman to her empty throne room he
’
d find Emlie in her quarters. She
’
d smile, happy to see him as always. He
’
d tell her about killing dragons and she
’
d show him a new kitten. She used to cry about the death of dragons.

“
Yes, she is,
”
the queen
’
s insistent words cut into his thoughts, shattering and scattering them.
“
The messenger came this morning. I never believed Hion would go to such lengths. But it hardly matters, does it? She
’
s dead.
”

“
No,
”
Pirse repeated more insistently.
“
Not that beautiful, innocent child. Who could harm Emlie?
”

Who would send a little girl into such a dangerous situation? How could this woman he was holding have done such a thing?

She was still speaking.
“
They held a perfectly formal execution. They took her into a public courtyard, read the sentence, and the executioner strangled her. They executed my baby. She died like a common criminal. The messenger from Rhenlan said she cried, but didn
’
t make any real fuss. How like her to die quietly. Such a gentle thing.
”

“
Shut up!
”
The cry tore itself out of Pirse.
“
Stop it!
”

“
How will the Redmothers remember it?
”
the Queen droned on, gray eyes focused, but not focused, on something in the middle distance beyond Pirse
’
s shoulder.
“
I can
’
t stop thinking that because she obeyed me, she
’
s dead.
”

“
No.
”
Pirse didn
’
t shout the word this time. It came out as a whisper, barely audible in his own ears, ignored by his mother, who was lost in her own horror-filled thoughts. Pirse dropped his hands and stepped back, those simple actions almost beyond his strength. All the energy that had driven him on the long road home, all the tension that had wound through him these past hours, evaporated like a dead dragon in the sun. Dead. Emlie, his pretty, sweet sister, was dead.

Pirse turned his back on the queen and walked away. At the entrance to the great hall he turned randomly to his left, his mother
’
s monotonous voice following him along the corridor. Emlie was dead. He knew he should feel something, say something, but what? How? Denial hadn
’
t helped, and comfort was beyond him, for himself or for Dea. What was the point? Emlie was dead.

He lifted the latch on the first door he came to, and stepped into a black, windowless room. He didn
’
t know where he was, didn
’
t care. Emlie was dead. The trembling returned to his aching legs and back. He was aware of tears on his f
ace, and an empty hollow of
grief where his heart had once been. He sank down on the stone floor, curled into a miserable ball, and let exhaustion carry him into the welcome dark.

Pirse woke with a crick in his neck and, for one blessed moment, no idea where he was. Then the memories came to crush him: Chasa
’
s warning, the long ride home, Dea shattered with grief, Emlie dead.

Groaning, Pirse got to his feet and fumbled in the darkness until he found the door. Light from the wall sconce in the corridor outside answered his first question. He had taken refuge in a storage room, its walls lined with dusty shelves and a heap of wall tapestries.

He doubted that the answer to his next question would come so easily. Emlie was dead.
Gods help me, what do I do now?

All right, maybe that answer was easy, too. Pirse brushed at his dusty clothing and started back down the corridor toward the great hall. It didn
’
t matter that he was furious, hurt, disappointed, and grieving. He had to talk to his mother. He blamed her as much as Hion for Emlie
’
s death, but probably not as bitterly as she blamed herself. Blame wouldn
’
t bring Emlie back. They had to decide what to do next, how to respond to Rhenlan
’
s barbarity.

By the time he approached the throne, Pirse had ordered his thoughts and started to run down the list of urgent actions to be taken. Check the status of the border guards, of course. He opened his mouth to address his mother, and only then wondered at her silence. She sat on the throne, watching his approach. No, not watching him. He stepped onto the dais, but her eyes continued to stare sightlessly past him.

The front of her gown was dark with blood.

Pirse
’
s legs buckled. He reached for Dea
’
s hand, and at his touch her body slid off the throne and crumpled into an untidy heap on the tiles.

“
Rock and Pool, boy, what have you done?
”

Pirse turned, still on his knees. Captain Cratt strode down the center of the great hall, Uncle Palle at his side. They stopped at the foot of the dais and Palle pointed an accusing finger at Pirse.

“
What did I tell you? He shirks his real duties, he profanes his sacred trust, and now he thinks to claim the throne!
”

Cratt
’
s bald head gleamed in the torch light.
“
You can
’
t do it, Your Highness. Best to hand over your sword, and trust the Law Readers to judge fairly.
”

“
My sword?
”
Pirse repeated.
“
Law Readers? Cratt, what happened here?
”

“
The queen is dead,
”
Palle proclaimed loudly.
“
And I, for one, will not stand by and see her murderer profit by it.
”

“
Her murderer?
”
Pirse
’
s voice rose in outrage as he surged to his feet.
“
You accuse me? Cratt, you can
’
t possibly believe
—”

“
I
’
ve already examined her,
”
the captain interrupted him.
“
Anyone who has fought with you will confirm it. There
’
s no mistaking the marks of a dragon sword, and no question that you
’
re the only man in Dherrica to wield one.
”
He put one foot on the lowest step of the dais, hands spread in entreaty. A spasm of pain twisted his face.
“
You were seen, Highness. The last person to enter the hall before
…
before she was found. Firstmother help us, the queen is dead. Your sister
’
s dead. Shaper killing Shaper. No more, Highness, I beg you.
”

The snick of Palle
’
s sword sliding out of its sheath broke through Pirse
’
s stunned disbelief. A drawn weapon, the sense of danger
—
these things he understood.

His fingers found the hilt of his sword. Palle
’
s sneering face was the snarling visage of a dragon. Training and experience took over. Pirse dodged under his uncle
’
s first lunge, swung the heel of his free hand against the side of the man
’
s head with bone-numbing force, leapt past Cratt
’
s lunging grab, and ran from the hall.

* * *

Palle rolled groggily to his hands and knees in time to see the prince disappear through the doorway at the far end of the great hall, Cratt three paces behind him. Palle staggered to his feet, groped for his sword where it had fallen at the edge of the dais, and ran after the pair.

He caught up with Cratt halfway down the corridor, where the guard captain lay doubled-up on the floor. Head throbbing furiously, Palle shoved his boot under the man and flipped him over. Cratt clutched his ribs, breathing in broken gasps, but the only blood visible came from a gash on his forehead.

“
Idiot! Why didn
’
t you stop him?
”
Palle demanded.

Cratt wouldn
’
t, or couldn
’
t, answer. Palle cursed him and hurried on. Perhaps it was for the best to have the guard captain out of the way. Palle gingerly touched the aching spot on his own skull. He found no blood, but it still hurt. One more score to settle with his beloved nephew.

Lights guttered around the courtyard, and several guards were milling about near the entrance to the stables.

“
Nerri!
”
Palle shouted as he hurried down the stairs. The man he
’
d singled out turned an inquiring face toward him.

“
Have you seen Prince Pirse?
”

Nerri indicated the stable door.
“
Yes, sir, he
’
s just getting a horse.
”

Palle reached the bottom of the stairs.
“
Stop him!
”
he shouted. Heads turned in his direction, eyes widening at the sight of the naked blade in his hand. A clattering of hooves was clearly audible from the stone-flagged central aisle of the stable. Palle ran forward.
“
Do you hear me? Stop the prince. He
’
s murdered our queen!
”

On the other side of the courtyard one of the watching kitchen maids began to wail. The guards nearest the stable scattered as a horse and rider burst into the open. Pirse was astride Captain Cratt
’
s huge roan. Sword in his hand, the prince gave a wordless yell and kicked the mare toward the gate.

Two guards sprang forward to close the courtyard doors, but they were too slow. One was knocked aside by the horse
’
s shoulder. The other would have been trampled outright had the animal not given a small leap as she knocked him down. Then Pirse was gone, no more than a shadow bending low over the horse
’
s neck.

Palle screamed,
“
After him!
”

More guards came streaming out of the barracks, aroused by the commotion. Cratt
’
s second-in-command, Onarga, ran toward him.
“
A full patrol, sir?
”
she asked.

“
Yes, yes! And saddle my horse.
”

Onarga was not very imaginative, but she was well disciplined. Within a few moments, a groom had brought out Palle
’
s horse, and an armed and mounted troop was assembled in front of the gate.

Palle swung into his saddle.
“
Corporal Onarga, you will remain here, in command of the castle, until I return.
”