Sing the Four Quarters (27 page)

"Essentially correct, sire."

"And if I send the guard out after them," he continued thoughtfully, "I've no doubt I'll alert that someone and throw away our one advantage."

"You can't just leave the princess out there, about to have a child!" Leonas protested.

The set of Stasya's shoulders said much the same thing.

"I can't send the guard after the due," Theron mused, then all at once he smiled. "But there's nothing that says I can't send the guard after Annice."

Stasya felt her jaw drop. "She'll be furious, Majesty."

The king's smile never faltered. "Good. I found out about the baby, she ran, and I want her back. There's nothing anyone can use in that."

"How're they going to bring her back without hurting her?" Leonas asked, arms folded across his chest. "She won't just come 'cause you order it, Majesty; not the princess, no, she won't."

"I could go after her, Majesty," Stasya offered, eagerly. "I know which way they've gone."

Theron thought about it for a moment then shook his head. "No. Only the four of us know what's actually going on, I can't afford to have you out of whatever plan we create to capture the real traitor." He picked up the collar button and rubbed it between his fingers. "Still, it's essential we get the due back and find out exactly what's been done to him.

It'll have to be the guards."

"The ducal fight if the guards try an' take her," Leonas insisted stubbornly, "Then the guars will know who he is."

While Theron appreciated the affection the old man had for Annice, his attitude was becoming annoying. "He's not likely to identify himself," he snapped. "I've plenty of guards who've never seen the due and all they'll know is Annice has run off with the man who fathered her child and I want them
both
brought back to Elbasan. I think a troop of guard can handle one pregnant bard and the Due of Ohrid. They won't hurt her and if they have to knock him on his ass to get him here, maybe next time he'll consider confiding in his king."

When Leonas opened his mouth again, Theron abruptly raised a hand. "Enough. Annice is going to have to live with the consequences of her actions. If she'd come to me with her suspicions, none of this would be necessary."

"Your pardon, Majesty?" Liene recognized the tone in the king's voice and decided she'd better speak before he felt the urge for another proclamation he'd come to regret. It was time to remind him that Annice was by far the least of his concerns. "Who would want you to believe Pjerin a'Stasiek is a traitor?"

"A good question." Theron agreed to be distracted. "And there's only one logical answer. Queen Jirina of Cemandia."

Liene frowned. "Why would Cemandia want you to discover a plot involving Cemandia?"

"This is how I see their reasoning; Queen Jirina has made no secret of wanting a seaport and has to know we've heard about the mercenaries she's been importing. I know Defiance Pass at Ohrid is the only way she can bring an army into Shkoder, so I strengthen it.
Unless
I think I've discovered their plan and neutralized it, thereby removing the threat.

"
But
the plot involving the due was a blind, a setup I was intended to discover. They not only want me to believe I've taken care of the threat, but they want me to remove young Pjerin from their way." His voice hardened. "I don't like being used."

"It seems logical," Liene admitted after a moment of turning it over and examining it from all sides. "But why not let them know they've failed?"

"Two reasons. First, if the due isn't the traitor, someone else is—or Jirina wouldn't think she could get an army through the pass. I want that someone." His expression darkened. "I'm going to lay out a path to the block and dance them down it."

The sudden crack of the carved wooden button snapping between his fingers jerked everyone's gaze to his hands.

Theron took a deep breath and let the two pieces fall to the carpet. "Secondly," he continued as though nothing had happened, "if the someone in Cemandia is able to work around Command, I want to know how and who and I want to know it now, not later when they've made an attempt we didn't discover."

"If the Cemandians are able to work around Command, Majesty." Liene's tone suggested that the king could believe what he wished. While she'd give him the rest, she wouldn't give him this. Not without a fight.

"If they can do it, I'm sure you can as well." It was less an observation than an order. "We'll need a way to undo it and a way to guard against it ever happening again. I'm sure His Grace will be eager to help when he's returned to the capital."

Her lips had thinned to a pale line and she barely opened them as she spoke. "Yes, Majesty. And if it can't be done?"

His smile held a warning. "Assume it can. You'll find the two dungeon guards with my four. I want all six of them Commanded not to speak of the escape but explain why before you do it—they may not have a choice, but they'll at least have the reason."

"That won't stop them from speaking the truth if they're Commanded, Majesty."

"I know that, Captain, but who's going to Command them? I'm not. You're not." His smile suggested she drop the subject. "Leonas, get the blood, then return here. You're roughly the same height as the due and no one looks too closely at the person in the Judgment robe. I'll take you into the Due's cell by way of the so-called secret passageway, then you, Captain, will show up with the dungeon guards to escort him out."

Liene bowed and turned on her heel, muttering, "I am
not
singing a dirge for a bucket of chicken blood," as she left.

Leonas bowed as well, with the air of a man who knew his duty even if he didn't like it.

Theron allowed them both to leave and sat staring down at the two half circles of wood at his feet.

Stasya stared at a point just over his head and wondered why he hadn't dismissed her with the others.

Finally, he glanced up. "I know you're worried about her. I wish I could send you after her."

"Thank you, Majesty." This wasn't what she'd expected. And he looked as worried as she felt. "She really wants this baby, Majesty. She won't do anything to endanger it."

"Perhaps you'd better reassure Leonas."

"Yes, Majesty."

"Stasya…" He paused, uncertain of how to go on. "Did Annice deliberately challenge my authority with this?"

"She didn't get pregnant on purpose if that's what you're asking, sire."

"An accident?" Sighing, he bent and picked up the broken button, his tunic gaping at the collar. "Trust Annice to have an accident this complicated. Is she happy about it?"

"Stasya, when I think about this baby, I feel the way I feel when the Song works; that sense of everything snapping into
place and being, if only for a little while, absolutely right."

Stasya smiled. "Yes, Majesty."

"Is she healthy?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Do you really believe she did this just so I would send for her?"

"Not consciously, Majesty, but, yes; I really believe it. She misses you, misses her family, misses her past."

"I wish I'd known this sooner."

Stasya sighed. "So do I, Majesty."
Because then she wouldn't be on her way to Ohrid, almost eight months pregnant, a
hunted fugitive, protecting a man she wouldn't eat breakfast with
. No point in saying it; there was nothing the king could do, no way he could find her.
No way I can find her. Shit
.

Theron remembered a little sister who followed him like a shadow. When he met Stasya's eyes again, his own were bright. "I sent for her, about eight years ago, but she wouldn't come."

"It still hurt too much, Majesty."

"I know."

Stasya bit her lip as she realized why he understood about Annice's pain, but before she could think of something to say, he continued.

"And then, when I heard that song, all I could think of was how she'd taken something that should have been private between the two of us and deliberately used it to undermine my authority throughout Shkoder."

"'The Princess-Bard'?" Stasya was so astonished, she took a step toward the king. "Annice had nothing to do with that, Majesty, and I doubt you hate it more than she does. If you'll forgive me, the two of you are a lot alike. I think that's your biggest problem. You were both too proud to bend first."

"A king cannot appear weak before his subjects. A weakness in the king is perceived as a weakness in the country."

Theron sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I did what I could."

"Leonas?"

"He watched over her for me. Kept me informed." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Apparently not as well informed as I thought."
A baby
. He couldn't deal with the concept. The Annice of his memory was fourteen. Or five.

But he didn't know this Annice at all. "I missed her."

Stasya snorted, sounding remarkably like Liene. "Tell her, Majesty, not me."

Theron nodded. "When this is over."

Recognizing a dismissal, Stasya bowed. Her hand was on the door when the king's voice stopped her.

"I'm going to want you to go to Ohrid, but we'll speak again before you leave. This deception must be closely planned if it's to work."

Annice woke, aware something was wrong but unable for the moment to determine what.
Where am I
? The rocking motion suggested riverboat, then the cart hit a bump and she remembered.

"Heard they had terrible trouble with mice over Fourth Quarter," Bartek the carter confided, slipping the two gulls
they'd settled on for the fare into his pocket. "I got oats, barley, spring wheat, and some corn. Just so much extra here,
but if I get it to market in Vidor by the new moon, I figure I can make a killing. Climb on board, make yourself
comfortable. You both look like you could use some shut-eye."

With the sacks of seed grain molded to her aching back, Annice fell asleep before the cart was out of Riverton.

Now she was awake and she wanted to know why. The baby was quiet. Nothing hurt. The sun poured heat over her like molten gold.

The sun.

Directly overhead.

Noon.

She opened her eyes and looked for Pjerin.

He was sitting rigidly upright against the side of the cart, one leg raised, his forearm resting across his knee. The shirt that Stasya had found for him was a bit small and with the fabric pulled tight across his chest, Annice could see each shallow breath. There were hollows in his cheeks that hadn't been there in Third Quarter and the bruising around his eye made him seem achingly fragile. She had the strangest desire to go over to him and let him rest his head on her shoulder while she stroked the long fall of dark hair.

Out of the Circle with that! I refuse to get maternal about
him.

His other hand worked against the bag of corn beside him, grinding the kernels together.

The grinding was the sound that had woken her.

Reaching out one arm, she poked him in the calf of his outstretched leg—all she could touch without moving. "Hey.

You're alive."

Violet eyes found hers, dark with anger, not pain.

"And I'm going to stay alive." It was more a threat than a promise. "And when we find out who did this to me, I'm going to make them wish they'd never been born."

CHAPTER TEN

"Traders in the pass!"

The voice drifted down from the high watchtower, echoing off the stone of the mountain and sounding remote but clear in the lower bailey.

Olina shook her head at Gerek's questioning glance. "That's only first warning. You've time to finish your practice."

When he was old enough to learn the sword, she'd hire an arms master—as her father had done for her and Pjerin's for him—but the Dues of Ohrid trained with the mountain bow from the time they could walk, the bow growing taller as they did.

The boy sighed and set another arrow to the string.

"Traders at the wall!"

If Gerek squinted, he could just make out the tiny figure waving from the top of the wall-tower. Responding to the cry, the men and women of the keep began to make their way toward the gate. Gerek turned and looked hopefully up at his aunt.

"If you hit the target with this last arrow, you can come with me to meet them," she promised.

Brow furrowed with concentration, Gerek pulled and released. Although the target wasn't far, it was at the edge of his range and the arrow wobbled a little in flight. Perhaps pushed on by the intensity of the violet stare locked onto it, it managed to just reach the lower edge of the bundle of straw.

"It hit! It hit! And it
stayed"
he added, just in case his aunt hadn't noticed.

"That's very well done, Gerek." Olina smiled down at the boy. "I'm very proud of you."

Gerek preened. "I'm gonna shoot like my papa. My papa can hit anything."

"Your papa is dead, Gerek." She'd tried being gentle, she'd tried discussing it with him—she'd finally given up and merely repeated the bald statement as often as she was given cause.

His lower lip jutted out and Gerek prepared to do battle.

"No." Her hand chopped off his protest before it began. "I am not going to argue with you. Your father is dead. You are now the due. Gather up your arrows, and put your equipment away. You should be finished long before the traders reach the gate." He hesitated, obviously still considering a defense of his absent father. "Or would you rather not see the traders at all?"

The threat worked where reason stood no chance. Olina watched the boy run to the target and wondered how much longer she was going to have to put up with his nonsense.
The boy isn't quite five, surely he'll soon forget
.

With the First Quarter rains over and the roads passable—
Or what stands for roads in this unenclosed part of the
world
…—Olina expected a courier from the king with the official notification of the Judgment. Not that she needed to be told what had happened; the part of the plan that removed the stewardship of the pass from her nephew's hands was foolproof. The penalty for treason was death and she knew that Pjerin would rather die than throw himself on anyone's mercy. Therefore, Pjerin was dead.