Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) (4 page)

“Did you picture a royal pleasure barge?”

“I don’t know. I just—” She bit off the words. Connor helped her step into the boat, and she settled her feet next to two bundles at the stern as he untied it. He pushed it out toward the strong current of the channel and jumped in.

Waves lifted the tiny boat. It picked up speed, and the air rushed past her face and brought the scent of gulls and fish. In the water, vibrant blue and green lines wound around the bottom of the boat in snaking braids similar to the ones she’d seen in the passageway.
Sidh water talents.
She’d read of them in stories stolen from the sayada library and devoured by candlelight when the sayas were asleep.
Elemental magic—the creatures who helped Alshada build the world with their stone, water, and air talent. Not a myth after all. And the reliquary is real, too. What else did they keep from me?
The salt spray stung her eyes, and she blinked back tears.
The magic is real, or seems to be. They wanted me to take the throne, but how? And now, Hana is dead and I’m left with this man I don’t even know to teach me things he doesn’t seem to want to talk about. Alshada, how will I do this?

Within moments, the boat slowed, and the rocky coast of Culidar came into view. Connor jumped onto the rocks. He helped Mairead out, picked up the two bundles, and then kicked the boat back into the channel. The braids took hold of it and steered it north into darkness.

On the far shore, dogs bayed near the water. Connor pulled Mairead down to the rocks and put his arm and cloak around her. “Don’t move.”

“They can’t swim the channel, can they?”

“They’re dogs, not dolphins. Still, I’d rather they didn’t see us. If they see the boat, they might think we went north.”

They sat very still for some time, huddled against the spray of the sea. Mairead’s legs grew stiff and numb, and her hands ached. One foot started to cramp and tingle. At last, Connor let out a long breath and took his arm away from her. “I think they’ve given up. Come on.” He stood.

She straightened from her crouch and shook feeling back into her leg. “This is Culidar?”

“Yes. There’s a cave nearby where we can spend the night.”

“A cave? They say the Nar Sidhe use the caves of Culidar for their fertility rites.” She grimaced at the high pitch of her voice.
You squeak like a frightened mouse,
she scolded herself.
But if the Brae Sidh aren’t myth, what else is real?

“The Nar Sidhe don’t venture to this part of Culidar,” Connor said. He swung the bundles over his shoulder and pointed. “That’s where we’re going.”

Connor began to climb, and she followed. The slick, stiff soles of her shoes made it difficult to get traction on the wet rocks, and she tripped on her dress several times. Once, she caught herself on a sharp rock and hissed.

He turned back. “Are you all right?”

Tears stung her eyes at the pain, but she fought them back.
He already thinks I’m weak.
She regained her balance and lifted her hand. “I cut myself.” Blood glinted off her palm and the rock in the faint light.

He pulled a kerchief from the pocket of his jerkin and tied it around her hand. “This will have to do until we get to the cave. It’s going to hurt to climb. Can you do it?”

I don’t know.
“Yes.”

It was slow going without the full use of one hand. By the time she reached the large opening in the cliff face, her other hand and both knees were bloodied, and her teeth chattered with damp cold.

Connor unrolled two blankets and gestured to one. “Sit. Let me see your hand.”

She held it out. He opened his hand next to hers, and a small blue flame appeared on his palm. “How do you do that?”

“Magic.”

“But what—”

“It’s a useful trick. The Sidh use palmlight instead of torches or lanterns. They don’t like fire.” He examined her hand in the blue light. “It’s not bad—long, but not deep. I’ll dress it.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a terse nod and dressed the cut with some ointment from his pack. “I’ll check it again in the morning. You should rest. We have a long walk come daylight. I’ll keep watch.”

Her teeth chattered and she pulled her cloak tighter. “A-all r-right.”

“Are you that cold?”

She nodded.

“I don’t want to build a fire. The wood here is wet, and your enemies might see the fire or smoke from the docks.”

“It’s all right. I’ll w-warm up in a f-few m-minutes.” But her teeth chattered still, and she ached with the cold.

He sighed and lowered his head in resignation. When he lifted it, he motioned to her to move, picked up the blankets, and crawled further into the cave. He lay one blanket down across the rocks, sat down, and beckoned her over. “You’ll be warmer if you sleep next to me.”

She hesitated. “Sleep next to you?”

“Until you’re warm. I’ll give you my blanket.”

“I don’t have a guardian now.”

“I have nothing improper in mind. I’m not cold and you are, and I’ll not be saddled with a sickly woman at the beginning of a long journey.”

The promise of warmth tempted her, but she shook her head and crawled to a dry place near the cave wall. “I’ll warm up.”

“As you wish. But I won’t slow down for you if you get sick.” He tossed her his blanket. “At least use both blankets.”

She yawned, succumbing to exhaustion as she pulled the second blanket over herself. “Why aren’t you cold?”

He crawled to the cave entrance and sat down with his back to her. “I don’t get cold.”

She leaned her head against the rock wall and closed her eyes. Her hand throbbed.
Alshada, keep us safe. Keep Muriel safe. I trust you, but I’m afraid. I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this. Make me strong.

Chapter Three

Carved in ebony, the raven rises.

From justice born, the king returns.

— Scrolls of Prophecy in the Syrafi Keep, Year of Creation 656

It’s smaller than I remember,
Braedan thought. When Fergus sat in the ancient ebony seat, bestowing favors on his trusted councilors and dispensing justice in the name of kings and queens long dead, the Raven Throne had seemed massive. It frightened Braedan as a child. The great crest of the seat formed a raven in full wing, its beak lifted in a cry to the heavens. The wings seemed to emerge from Fergus’ back, and the open mouth looked like horns on his head. Braedan remembered clutching his mother’s hand and hiding behind her skirts until his father called him forward and showed him the throne was just wood.

The Raven Throne sat empty now. Fergus the Grand, legendary for his magnanimity, had died cursing his son. Repha Felix wouldn’t tell Braedan his father’s dying words. Braedan stared at the carved throne before him and tried to conjure some emotion. None came.

He stepped up the dais and traced the carvings of braided vines that wound up the throne. He sat down and closed his eyes.
It’s just a chair. It’s just wood. I have as much right as anyone.

The rhythmic sound of steel on stone announced Ronan Kerry’s arrival. Braedan’s uncle tipped his boots with steel on the toes and heel. He said it gave him an edge in a fight and on horseback. Braedan thought it simple vanity. “Come to see what kind of a chair your money buys?” he asked.

The clicking stopped. “It suits you, your majesty.”

Braedan opened his eyes. Ronan had the same bright blue eyes as Braedan, but there the similarities ended. Ronan was a big man, muscular, with the red-blond hair of the people on the northeastern coast of Taura, while Braedan was shorter, lither, and had his father’s coal-black hair. The rising sun of House Kerry was embroidered in gold on Ronan’s indigo longcoat. His uncle’s close-trimmed beard hid a prominent chin, and his ruddy face had the weather-beaten look of a man who lived subject to the harsh elements of the northern coast.

Braedan saw his mother’s face under Ronan’s wrinkles. “You were here when he died. Did he know? Did he see you?”

Ronan shifted his feet. “I was here as was my right as councilor, but he refused to see me. He insisted to the end that your cousin Daron would take the regency.”

“And Daron?”

“His head decorates the Noble Gate, majesty. As you ordered.”

As I ordered.
“What of my father’s forces in the city?”

“Taken. There have been few casualties. My men control the streets, and yours took the castle easily.”

“And the Table?”

Twelve ducal houses sat on the Table of Councilors. There had once been thirteen, but House Mac Niall fell from favor before Braedan’s exile. Duke Mac Niall was killed and named a traitor to the crown. “Those who were in Torlach are now imprisoned in the west tower in separate rooms, as you ordered,” Ronan said. “I’ve dispatched forces to the other dukes with messages demanding their allegiance under threat of forfeiture of their holdings. I don’t think it will be difficult to convince them. Most of my peers tired of your father’s extravagance and piety years ago.” He paused. “The Mac Corin holdings are yours to dispense. You have many loyal nobles who would love to have some rich southern soil since Daron no longer has a need for it.”

“Including you, uncle?”

“If it pleases your majesty.”

“Daron had no heir?”

“Daron left a young wife and no children. The lady is from House Seannan. If you want Duke Seannan’s loyalty, return the lady to him.”

Braedan leaned back on the throne. “You speak of holding the lady hostage.”

“Call her a ward of the crown.”

“While her father lives?”

“Her father lives at your pleasure.”

Braedan rubbed his chin. “I never wanted to rule by fear.”

“Have you ever caught a bird in your hand?”

Braedan snickered. “A bird? No.”

“The trick is getting a firm grip on it, even if it’s just by a wing or a leg. You can control the whole bird if your grip is firm enough. But if you don’t get that first hold, you’ll lose your chance. A firm grip is called for now. You can loosen it later.”

“And if I accidentally snap its neck?”

Ronan tipped his head. “Regrets, nephew?”

“No. But I want to rule by vision. Men will follow a vision if they believe in it.”

“Your mother had a vision, too. She wanted to restore the old ways. She believed in the earth magic. Her marriage to your father was one of expedience and hope. She thought she could temper his righteousness enough to find a way for the old ways to live with the new, that the Great Kirok in Aliom could find a path alongside what it called witchcraft.” He took one step closer to Braedan, pain and anger and grief in his eyes. None of it was for Fergus. “What did she get for her vision, Braedan? A broken heart, an empty bed, an empty womb, and a husband who shunned her in favor of his divine mission.”

Braedan remembered. He had seen the Lady Alison weep more times than he could count, her hair hiding her face and her thin shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, as his father pushed the earth magic and the tribes further and further from peaceful relations with Taura. After she’d given him a son, Fergus had even forsaken her bed. She had given up hope in the end and taken her own life when Braedan was ten. “Without vision—”

“—people waste and die. You sound just like her when you say it.” Ronan’s voice cracked. “Keep religion out of the affairs of state and govern wisely, and you can build your vision. But securing thrones is a messy business. For now, you must tighten your grip.”

Braedan rested his hands on the arms of the throne. “Bring Daron’s wife to Torlach, but ensure that she is treated with the highest honor. Send word to her father that he can come retrieve her here. I will meet with him when he arrives.”

Ronan inclined his head. “As you wish, sire. As for who will hold the lands?”

“I suppose I will.”

“You?”

“Why not? It’s my family. The crown needs the money and the men.” He saw hesitation on Ronan’s face. “Who would you see hold the lands?”

“Perhaps you could place them in care of a steward and give them to your sons, when you have them. But I would not wish to see your attention divided between ruling a country and running your holdings. And I won’t live forever. Eventually, you’ll have to run Stone Coast as well.”

Ronan’s wife, the Lady Ilyssa, had never been able to carry a child. Ronan refused to set his Esparan lady aside. He named Braedan his heir instead. Braedan knew Ronan’s allegiance to Ilyssa went only as far as his public persona and her wealth. His uncle had no qualms about bedding any woman who appealed to him, and there were rumors that he’d fathered at least two bastards, though none had ever come forward.

“What of an alliance with Lady Seannan?” Braedan asked.

“Wed her? Perhaps. An allegiance with an old house would be valuable. Her family could run your holdings in your stead. If you rid yourself of her brother, all the better.”

Braedan shook his head. “No. I’ll not murder nobles who can be turned. He will have a chance to swear fealty.” He straightened. “I need you to work with my seneschal to begin arranging audiences with the foreign ambassadors who are still in the city. Close the docks. I don’t want anyone else leaving.”

“As you wish. The Eiryan ambassador—Duncan Guinness—left two weeks ago. His wife was expecting a child. She wanted to be near her family, I believe.” Ronan paused. “This was more successful than we had dared hope. History will say this was a bloodless coup. Braedan the Merciful? Braedan the Bloodless.”

Braedan shifted his weight, hoping his uncle didn’t notice the flinch of discomfort.
Daron and his men would disagree. I’ve become a kinslayer.
“Not bloodless.”

Ronan nodded toward the Raven Throne. “Did you know your father tried to have that removed?”

“The throne? Why?”

“He believed it possessed by dark magic. He thought it a pagan abomination. He hired the best carpenters and masons in the country and no one—not one of them—could budge the throne. They took axes and picks and chisels to it, hoping to carve it into a new image, and they couldn’t even dent it.”

Braedan lifted an eyebrow. “Magic?”

Ronan shrugged. “Who can say?”

“I remember he had another chair for a time. He put it in front of the Raven Throne.”

“The Council finally convinced him to return to the Raven Throne. Dispensing justice from another chair is an insult to Taura itself.”

The door to the hall opened, and two guards entered. “You’re dismissed,” Braedan said.

Ronan bowed. “Of course, your majesty.” He nodded once at the senior guard. “Mac Kendrick.”

“My lord.” Logan returned the nod.

As Ronan’s footsteps faded, Braedan turned to Logan. “What did you find at the sayada?”

Logan Mac Kendrick bowed to Braedan. The mail under his green and gold surcoat creaked when he straightened. His face and clothes were streaked with charcoal and dirt, but he had no visible wounds. His mail coif lay against his shoulders, and his hair was matted against his head. The surcoat boasted a raven in flight against the dark green wool; gold thread edged the surcoat, and Logan wore a gold cord to signify his place as High Commander. The other man was similarly garbed, but held a lesser rank. “Only one hundred four of the sayas remained,” Logan said.

Braedan cursed.
One hundred four. There were fifty more a week ago.
“She’s gone?”

“If she was ever there. I could never confirm that anyone of royal blood was there except the Eiryan princess.”

Braedan looked at the other guard. “How did they get out of the sayada, guardsman?”

“Sire, I swear we have monitored every entrance and exit for the last week while the regular castle guards were distracted with the regent’s illness. We saw no one leave until—” The man licked his lips. “The men patrolling the north wall of the castle and the sayada saw three figures running for the trees earlier tonight. They killed one—a sister—but the other two got away. When they looked for the exit beyond the north wall, they couldn’t find anything.”

What if they killed her?
“I said I didn’t want them killed until I could question them. Why were you firing at them?”

“My lord—”

“Lord?” Braedan crossed his arms. “Do you forget why we did this?”

“His majesty reminds you that addressing him as ‘lord’ is not appropriate,” Logan said. “As king, he is entitled to the address of ‘sire’ or ‘majesty.’”

The man hesitated. “Sire. Forgive me. We wanted to stop them. We fired hoping to wound them.”

“And you want me to believe they just appeared out of nowhere and ran for the trees.”

“It looks that way, majesty.”

Damn it.
“You found no sign of them?”

“We sent the hounds, but they lost the scent at the edge of the channel. The men saw a boat heading north.” The guard shifted his feet in a nervous shuffle.

“North. When the current flows south, a boat was heading north. Was it sailing?”

“No, majesty.”

Braedan frowned. “How is that possible, guardsman? How do two people row against a current as strong as that?”

“Sire, I can only report what we saw.”

Braedan turned to Logan. “The sayas must have sent decoys from the sayada—women who will pretend to be the Taurin heir. Take your men and search every kirok on the island, one at a time, and find these women. Bring them back alive. I need the one they believe is the rightful Taurin heir. Then burn the kiroks to the ground, destroy the Holy Scriptures, and bring any kirons you find to me. We’ll put them on a ship back to Aliom. That will be the kirok’s punishment for hiding her from me.”

Logan bowed. “Yes, sire.”

Braedan looked at the cowering guard. “Select a small contingent of men to sail out of the channel and look for this boat. They need to leave immediately. If they can’t find the boat, send them to Culidar and have them try to pick up the trail of these two you lost.”

“At low tide in the middle of the night? Sire—”

“Do you believe it’s wise to question me?” The man fell silent. Braedan turned to Logan. “Are you breeding insolence, commander?”

“No, sire. I will see to discipline.”

“Good. Perhaps you can use this one as an example. Have him whipped and returned to duty.”

Logan inclined his head. “Yes, sire.”

“Have someone see to the ship tonight,” Braedan said. “Cormac will prepare formal orders for the seizure of the kiroks. You’ll have them in the morning. If the men meet resistance, they’ll have my authority to deal with it as they see fit.”

“Yes, sire.”

“This guard—I won’t find more like him, will I?”

Logan stood stoic. “No, sire. The man was green. I gave him too much authority too soon. That was my mistake. If you wish, I’ll take his lashes.”

“I won’t punish you for a mistake of leadership if you rectify it quickly.”