The Crimson Crown (21 page)

For a split second, Bayar’s arrogant expression faltered. Then he turned away from Han, to the rest of the council.

“Here is what we will do,” Lord Bayar said. “We will declare Hanson Alister unfit to serve on this council, and send word to the queen to that effect. We will set aside the results of our recent vote, since Alister’s participation in it renders it null and void. I will continue to serve as High Wizard until Alister is replaced on the council. I can suggest any number of capable replacements to…”

Hammersmith pushed open the door. “I am so sorry, Lord Bayar, but these…
people
say Lord Alister is expecting them. They insisted on being admitted.”

Fire Dancer and Willo Watersong stepped past him into the council chamber.

Willo wore a divided skirt in embroidered wool, a feather-light shawl around her shoulders, fine painted and stippled boots. Her hair was caught into a long braid, threaded through with feathers and talismans. She had never looked more beautiful, more serene.

Dancer was dressed like a clan prince, his Bayar Stooping Falcon stoles draped over his shoulders, the Lone Hunter amulet displayed overtop. They walked forward together, within a few feet of the astonished Bayars.

Now that Dancer and Lord Bayar stood side by side, the resemblance between them was unmistakable.

“Lord Bayar,” Willo said, in clear, carrying Common. “Do you remember me?”

And he did. Han could tell. His street face slid away momentarily, revealing naked fear, desire, and guilt.

“How dare you?” Bayar began, but his voice had lost some of its force. “How dare you come into this sacred hall, flinging accusations?”

“I have not yet made any accusations,” Willo said. “Perhaps it is your own guilt clamoring in your ears.”

She turned toward the other council members, who sat gaping. “I have something to say.”

Bayar groped for his amulet, extending a trembling hand toward her.

Dancer moved between them, his knife glittering in the torchlight. “Let go of that amulet,” he said quietly. “And let my mother speak. Or I will cut your throat.”

Lord Bayar stood, breathing hard, eye to eye with his son for a long charged moment. Then let go of the jinxpiece.

As Willo spoke, even Bayar’s allies seemed enthralled. Micah stared at Willo, then Dancer, then Willo again, shaking his head, his face a potent mixture of nausea and fury. Lord Mander licked his lips repeatedly, staring down at the table. Gryphon rubbed his chin with his palm, forehead creased in thought, his eyes on Willo.

Abelard sat back in her chair, by turns looking amazed and vastly entertained. Now and then, she remembered herself, and adopted an expression of horrified disapproval. But anyone could tell she was the happiest person in the room.

Finally, it was finished. “I am not ashamed of Hayden Fire Dancer,” Willo said. “Though he was given a difficult path to walk, he is the blessing of my life. But it is time that Lord Bayar is held accountable for this thing that he has done—one crime among many, I believe. What is particularly reprehensible is the fact that he holds others accountable for acts he himself has committed.”

By now, Bayar seemed to have mastered himself. Han suspected he hadn’t even been listening—he knew the story, after all—but was preparing his own.

“Are you quite finished?” he said pointedly.

“I am not finished,” Willo said, “but I would like to hear you speak to what I have said.”

Bayar looked around the table and shook his head in a woe-some way, as if the world had once again disappointed him.

“This…this
woman
,” he said, as if thinking of another word. “This woman has borne a chance child, and thinks to take advantage of a faint resemblance between me and her byblow offspring to make this preposterous claim.

“Yes, it seems likely that this mixed-blood was fathered by a wizard—or someone carrying wizard blood. Maybe even someone distantly related to us—we have blood ties to most of the prominent gifted families in the realm. That would explain the resemblance. It would not surprise me if this upland hedge witch seduced one of the gifted to this purpose. That, of course, does not absolve the wizard from responsibility in this matter. It is our duty to be wary of this kind of entrapment. Everyone knows the copperheads breed like rabbits.”

Dancer stiffened, and Han put his hand on his friend’s arm. “He’s trying to get a rise out of you,” he murmured. “Don’t give him an excuse to hush both of you. Just let him dig himself a deeper hole.”

“Alister and his copperhead friends have obviously concocted this story in order to discredit me,” Bayar went on. Finally, he looked at Dancer and Willo. “Are you two aware that copperheads are forbidden to enter the Council House? Leave, or I will have you seized.”

“You don’t have the authority to order anyone seized,” Han said. “You are no longer High Wizard.”

“We won’t stay much longer,” Willo said. “This place drains my magic away.” She looked Bayar in the eyes. “Before we go, I have something to return to you.” She pulled a pouch from her belt and turned toward the council. “This is the jinxpiece Gavan Bayar used to render me defenseless.”

She handed it to Adam Gryphon. He picked free the tie and dumped Bayar’s ring onto his palm. Extending his hand toward the center of the table, he tilted it, the ring glittering in the light like an accusing eye. Two falcons, talons extended, back-to-back. With emerald eyes.

“It is a jinxpiece,” Gryphon said, poking it with his forefinger. “Very powerful, indeed.”

He didn’t say what everyone knew—the ring exactly matched the amulet Gavan Bayar had worn since his Naming. He closed his hand over his amulet as though he could hide it from view.

“The Demonai warriors say that if you mark your enemies, you can always find them again,” Willo went on. “You marked me, Bayar. You left me a scarred spirit—and a son.” She paused. “But I left my mark on you, too.”

“This has gone on quite long enough,” Bayar said. “We were in the process of—”

“Let her speak, Bayar,” Gryphon said. “We have time for this.”

“Display your right palm to the council,” Willo said. “Show the mark I made on you.”

Instead, Bayar closed his hands into fists. “Who seduced whom, witch?” he said, his voice low and venomous. Turning in a swirl of fabric, he stalked from the room.

For a long stunned moment, nobody moved. Then Micah Bayar rose and followed his father. But not before delivering a glare of pure hatred at Han and Dancer. His uncle, Lord Mander, hustled out after him.

Those left at the table stared after them.

Han balanced the gavel on his hand. “Well, I think we’ve lost our quorum,” he said. “So I don’t think we can do any other business today.”

Abelard smiled, shaking her head. “Well, well, Alister. Usually these meetings are deadly dull. New blood, indeed. You have infused new life into these proceedings.” Abelard, of everyone, seemed willing to accept Dancer, if by so doing it disgraced Gavan Bayar.

Han didn’t feel particularly cheerful at that moment. If the pot had been simmering before, he’d brought it to a boil for sure. He looked into the huge fireplace at the end of the meeting hall. A gray wolf with green eyes looked back at him, the guard hair spiking along her shoulders.

What is it?
he wanted to say.
What are you trying to tell me?

Han had too many vulnerabilities—too many people he cared about, too many ways the Bayars could get at him, with their long reach and many allies. He needed to get back to Fellsmarch.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Han said, banging down the gavel. “Dean Abelard, can you stay a minute?”

Abelard was so delighted by the outcome of the council meeting that she unhorsed three of her guards and donated their mounts to Han and his party without asking questions. She also gave them cloaks in Abelard colors, inscribed with the Abelard book-and-flame.

Han, Willo, and Dancer pulled the cloaks over their clothes and agreed to split up and meet at the stables in ten minutes, when they were sure they were not being followed.

Han left the council chamber first and hurried along the corridor toward the stables at the back of the Council House.

“Alister!”

Swearing under his breath, Han swiveled around. Fiona stepped out from behind some draperies, seized his arm, and pulled him out of sight.

She looked him up and down. “
Abelard
colors? Demon’s blood, Alister, I want to know what game you’re playing.”

Han jerked free. “I don’t have time for this right now,” he said. “I’ve got to go.” He tried to slide between her and the wall, but she stepped into his path.

“Are you working for Abelard, or are you working with me?” she said. “I saw Micah and my father, and they told me what you did in there. Are you
insane
?”

“Probably,” Han said. “It runs in the family, apparently. Now, I really—”

“You listen to me.” Fiona took hold of his cloak. “I agreed to help you become High Wizard, and in return, you—”

“But you didn’t help me,” Han said. “You told me yourself you never met with Gryphon. You failed, Fiona, and I don’t reward failure.”

“Why would Adam vote for you?” Fiona demanded. “Why would he, when you murdered his parents?”

“Maybe he doesn’t think I’m guilty,” Han said. “Which I’m not.”

“However it happened, you got what you wanted. So why did you have to bring in the copperheads?” Fiona was practically spitting on him. “That’s my family name and reputation you’re besmirching with this story of Bayars consorting with…with savages. You know that can’t be true. And if it is, the copperhead witch must have been the aggressor.”

Han lost patience. “You Bayars are the savages,” he said. “I told you up front I would disgrace your father, and I did. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Now, get out of my way.” He shoved past her and into the hallway.

“I’ll go to my father!” Fiona shouted after him. “You’ll pay for this!”

Probably, Han thought. But there are some games I can’t play anymore.

“How many more classes are there?” Mellony whispered to Raisa, fanning herself.

“Two more, I believe,” Raisa said, scraping her damp hair off her forehead. “Those of Naming age, and the adult performers.”

“You were right. They are awfully talented. But it’s stifling in here.” Mellony turned to Jon Hakkam, who was sitting behind them. “Could you call for our carriage so it’s ready when we are?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jon said, and worked his way into the aisle.

The dancers were onstage now, so Raisa faced forward again. Southbridge Temple was garlanded with flowers, decorated with banners and pennants celebrating the Briar Rose Ministry. Rows of seats were filled with the performers’ family and friends, dressed in their best, many of whom had likely never been in a temple, let alone attended a dance recital.

Raisa’s party was seated in a place of honor, in the front rows. Her entourage grew larger day by day. Today it included both Klemath brothers, who seemed joined at the hip, since neither would allow the other to gain an advantage in Raisa’s affections.

Their cousins Missy and Jon were there, and, of course, Cat Tyburn, Night Bird Demonai, and the usual contingent of blue-jacketed guards, including Hallie Talbot.

Raisa had hoped the recital would distract her from her worries about Han, but there were reminders all around.

True to their word, Amon and Averill had worked together to incorporate Demonai warriors into the cordon of protection that surrounded Raisa. Her Demonai bodyguards often included Night Bird or Nightwalker, since Averill trusted them above anyone else. Nightwalker and Amon still mixed like oil and water, but they’d managed to cooperate to the degree necessary.

Raisa’s thoughts strayed to Han. He would be at the meeting of the Wizard Council right now. How would that go? Was there any chance at all he’d be elected High Wizard? And, if so, any chance that Fire Dancer would be accepted as a member?

She’d told Han she needed a High Wizard she could trust. She trusted Han Alister.
He’s not a murderer
, she repeated for the thousandth time.

And yet…Raisa hadn’t shown the piper talisman to Dancer. She hadn’t shown it to anyone. She’d hidden it away, hoping Amon wouldn’t ask about it again, knowing that he eventually would.

“Are we staying for the reception?” Mellony asked, interrupting Raisa’s glum thoughts. “Micah invited us to play cards later on.”

“We’ll be back in plenty of time, don’t worry,” Raisa said, thinking, I’m as distracted as Mellony. She nodded toward the stage. “Watch. This next number is amazing.”

Raisa had brought Mellony to the recital, hoping she might take an interest in the Briar Rose Ministry, might even teach some classes there herself. Her sister was a talented musician and dancer—much more gifted than Raisa would ever be.

It probably doesn’t help that the ministry is named after me, Raisa thought. Mellony is trying so hard to claim her own place in the world.

When the recital was over, Raisa introduced Mellony to Speaker Jemson.

Mellony curtsied to the speaker. “What a fabulous performance,” she said, smiling. “You’ve done wonders with these children.”

Jemson nudged forward one of the principal dancers, a boy of naming age, who ducked his head shyly. “Hastings here is one of our stars. He was just admitted to the Temple School at Oden’s Ford. He leaves in the fall.”

“That’s wonderful, Hastings,” Raisa said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You will love it there.”

Hastings didn’t look so sure.

“Perhaps, before summer’s end, we could host a performance up at Fellsmarch Castle,” Mellony said. “I would love for people who’ve never visited Southbridge to see all this talent.”

“What a good idea, Your Highness,” Jemson said, beaming. “It would be inspiring for the students to visit the palace as well.”

“I could organize a reception, after,” Mellony offered. “To benefit the ministry.”

Thank you, Mellony, Raisa thought, touched. That is a wonderful idea.

As they exited the temple into the street, Mellony wrinkled her nose. “The air is always so thick down here, but tonight it’s worse than usual.” She sniffed. “It’s not the river. It’s more like smoke. Who would have a fire going on a night like this?”