The Fall of the Dagger (The Forsaken Lands) (42 page)

She shook her head. “Don’t like it.” She brought her cupped hands together, enclosing the feather and the acorn tight in her grip.

Above their heads, wind swept through the tree, swaying the
branches and rustling the leaves. One of the lamps blew out and the others oscillated, sending shadows eerily dancing. Out of nowhere, biting cold swept along the boughs and spilled to the ground. Leaves fluttered down, a few at first, a patter of them, then more and more into a shower, their stalks beating against their faces, until there was a storm of whirling, curling leaves and twigs. A hail of acorns followed.

“What have you done?” Cob screamed at Saker.

Piper howled. Ardhi and Sorrel bent over her protectively, Ardhi holding his kris in his hand.

Cob shook a fist at Saker. “You’ve killed it! You slaughtered my tree!”

Saker pushed Piper into Sorrel’s arms. “Get her out of here,” he cried as acorns bounced off their heads and shoulders.

She and Ardhi ran for the open ground with the child. Behind them, Saker grasped Cob Thyme by the arm, thinking to help her out from under the oak.

She resisted, breaking away. “Don’t touch me,” she said, turning towards the trunk. “I die with my oak!”

He hesitated. A branch cracked like the sound of a gunshot and fell, snapping other branches as it crashed from the canopy down through the tree. When it hit the ground on the other side of the trunk, he felt the thud of it reverberate through his feet. All but one of the candle lanterns blew out.

“Cob!” he called. “Come with me.” He dashed after her, but overhead another branch broke and fell, sending shards and spears of wood pouring down from above. The bulk of it fell between him and Cob, fracturing into smaller splinters as it bounced on the ground. He caught a glimpse of a figure against the trunk of the tree, but just then the last candle lantern was knocked down, more branches snapped and the shrine was plunged into darkness, full of tumult and turbulent fury.

He stumbled away, tripping and blundering until he was out in the open and Ardhi was grabbing his arm, asking if he was all right. Before he could reply, another crack of the dying tree shattered the night and the whole area lit up with light, as delicately beautiful and mellow as a witchery glow. The remaining great boughs and limbs of the shrine-oak were a skeleton against a starry sky, edges gleaming with a delicate
tracery of blue. Translucent light enveloped what was left of the tree and expanded outwards until they were all bathed in the glow.

Piper stopped her crying. She held out her hand, the same one that had clasped the feather. Her palm glowed until it looked as if she was pulling the light from the tree, and indeed gradually the light did fade, limb by limb. As each branch and twig lost its colour, it disappeared, melting away into the darkness. The last vestige of glowing light was a band connecting a surface root to Piper’s outstretched hand. The child, unmoving, was entranced. Finally that last beam of blue left the tree.

“Mama,” she said, “I like that pretty colour!”

The light winked out into her palm and there was a moment of pitch darkness when they all saw the after-image of the glowing tree. Townsfolk arrived then, hustling from nearby houses, carrying lanterns, everyone asking in alarm what the noise had been. Had a branch fallen? They’d heard such a cracking…!

“The oak,” Sorrel whispered to Saker and Ardhi, horrified. “
It’s not there.
”

She hadn’t spoken loud enough for anyone else to hear, but someone behind screamed. “Where’s the oak? Where’s the shrine?”

Where the tree had stood, there was just a heap of leaves and a few broken branches, the ones that had fallen first. Of the bulk of the oak, of the trunk, of Cob Thyme, there was no sign. Someone began to wail.

Sorrel turned to Saker in panic. “Did – did Piper – did sorcery—”

For a long moment, shocked beyond measure, he didn’t reply. Then he said, “Piper, show me your hand, the one with the dirty mark.”

Piper happily held out her closed fist. Saker unfolded her fingers. The mark was gone. Of the feather and the acorn, there was no sign.

Ardhi frowned as a larger crowd began to gather, the number of lanterns doubled and the babble and wailing around them increased. “Her sorcery didn’t destroy the tree, did it?” he asked in a whisper. He was more puzzled than believing.

“No,” Saker said softly. “My guess is that the unseen guardian chose to sacrifice the oak and the shrine to destroy Piper’s sorcery. It was done using
sakti
and witchery.” He looked around. “Take them
back to our rooms, Ardhi. I’m the Prime and I have to calm people – account for this somehow. Find some lie to tell…” He put an arm around Sorrel. “Everything will be all right.”

“But why—? Why like
that
?”

He shrugged. He had no idea.

Va only knows.

By the time Saker returned to the Va-faith cloister, it was an hour past dawn. He found Ardhi and Sorrel in the dining hall, alone.

“Where’s Piper?” he asked.

“She has charmed the nuns,” Sorrel said, “and they have taken her into the kitchen to eat griddle cakes. She’s fine. In a much better state than we are.”

“The shrine really has gone,” he told them. “But there’s a young sapling already shooting up where it was, amidst all the broken branches.”

A tear trickled down Sorrel’s cheek.

He laid a hand over hers. “In time, there’ll be another tree, another shrine, probably with the same unseen guardian.”

“It’ll be a long while, though, won’t it?”

“Fifty years perhaps, before the new oak will have gathered enough power to grant witcheries.”

“And Cob Thyme?” she asked, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Her remains were there in among the debris. The shrine will have a new keeper one day.”

“Oh, Va.” She inhaled, eyes closed. “That blue light…?”

“I believe the unseen guardian converted the power of the Way of the Oak within the tree into that witchery glow, then used it to douse the sorcery in Piper.”

“The guardian sacrificed the tree and the keeper? Is that what we have to look forward to in order to save Prince-regal Karel? Another shrine dying? Another shrine keeper dead?”

“We can only hope there will be a similar unseen guardian from a water shrine who will be prepared to do the same thing for Prince Karel. And seeing that we know now that unseen guardians communicate with one another, I think it likely that will happen.”

“That’s…” Grief-stricken, she groped for the right words. “That seems so… extreme. A whole shrine gone. A keeper killed!”

“The guardian could have murdered Piper. It was his – her? – choice to kill the shrine instead. We made that choice possible because we had the feather. They could sacrifice a child, or one of their own. Either way sorcery died.”

There was a long silence as the three of them exchanged glances.

“I am so grateful,” Sorrel whispered. “Such a sacrifice… What can I say?”

“Piper has been blessed,” Ardhi said. “And so have we.”

None of them gave voice to their shared thought: what if a different shrine guardian made the opposite choice when it came to the prince-regal?

They stood at the stern of the packet as it sailed out of Betany harbour bound for Ustgrind, capital of Lowmeer, watching as the figure of Saker on the wharf grew smaller and smaller. Seagulls swooped and screeched around the bay, tens of them at first, then larger numbers. Terns skimmed the water, wingtips clipping the wavelets as they crisscrossed the white foam of the ship’s wake back and forth, wailing cries without end or purpose. In the sky behind the town, ravens and jackdaws and crows circled and argued in twisting, streaming flocks.

Piper clapped her hands. “Birds! Look at all the birds!”

“Sweet Va,” Sorrel muttered, disturbed. “He’s doing that.”

“It can’t be deliberate.”

“No. Oh, rattle it, Ardhi – this is tearing him apart. He can’t control his pain and the birds feel it. Why did he have to stay? He didn’t
want
to be Prime.”

“No.”

She caught his unease. “You know something I don’t?”

“Not really, but I’ve been thinking. There’s only one answer that makes any sense. King Ryce wanted him to be Prime. Fritillary favoured it too, once she knew he wouldn’t work directly for her. One of them forced him.”

“I don’t think Fritillary would have
forced
him. And how could Ryce have done so? Saker could just have said no!”
“But he didn’t, did he?” He looked down at Piper. “Did King Ryce know she is Regala Mathilda’s daughter—?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Juster knew,” he pointed out.

“And Juster and Ryce are friends – oh, we have been blind.” Her eyes blurred with tears. “Of course Ryce could have forced him. ‘Do what I want, or I take Piper away from you all. I’m her uncle.”

“Could he know that Sorrel Redwing is wanted for murder in Ardrone? That would be another hold over Saker.”

“I—” She paled. “It’s possible.”

“Saker agreed to the price. There’s nothing we could have done.”

“But why didn’t he
tell
us?”

“He thought it better that we be upset with him than that we know the extent of his sacrifice.”

She winced.

“It’s not the end of the ternion,” Ardhi said gently. “We’ll all be together again. He limited his royal service to ten years, don’t forget.”

He rested a hand on Piper’s head as the figure on the wharf dropped away behind. Above, the seabirds wheeled and screamed on the same wind that dried Sorrel’s tears as they ran down her cheeks.

A
t Fritillary’s request, backed by a letter of introduction from Prime Saker Rampion, temporary accommodation at the Lowmian Faith House was made available to Ardhi, Sorrel and Piper when the packet sailed into Ustgrind a sennight later.

Prime Mulhafen personally made them welcome. “The Regala is already expecting you,” he assured them. “A letter from Pontifect Fritillary came a few days ago, asking me to arrange an audience for you when you arrived. I’ll send a message today to say you are here.”

“Your Eminence,” Sorrel said, “we do have one more request of you. Our departure was hurried. Not so long ago, we were in hiding, and then we took part in the battle of the River Ard. We have little luggage and do not have appropriate clothing for a visit to the Lowmian court. I wonder if you could advise us—”

Before she had even finished the question, he had the answer. “Oh, we have entire rooms devoted to non-clerical clothing! You are welcome to take whatever you will, at no cost.” She must have looked astonished because he explained, “All acolytes and novices have to divest themselves of their street clothing when they enter our ranks. Much of it we give to the poor, but the more elaborate clothing… I will arrange for you to be shown what we have.”

Three days later, a sealed letter was delivered to Sorrel from the Regala, saying she would meet with her, alone, in Ustgrind Castle the following day.

“
Alone?
” Ardhi asked, glancing to where Piper napped on their bed. “I can understand that she might not want to meet me, but doesn’t she want to see Piper?”

“Apparently not.”

“I don’t like the smell of this.”

“Surely if she doesn’t want to see her daughter it’s a good sign for us. She will leave Piper in our care!”

“I want to come with you.”

“Mathilda is not going to do anything to me, not when the Pontifect, two Primes and her brother the king all know we are here with their blessing.”

“I’m coming with you, nevertheless. And so will Piper.”

“Making a statement, are we? A family.” She hugged him tight. “We can see how far you get, I suppose…”

As they threaded their way through crowded streets the following day, she was amused to notice that although people still dressed in unadorned garments, there was one change that reeked of Mathilda’s influence. Colour – even bright red – had crept into the women’s head-dresses. Just as astonishing was the way hair was beginning to escape from under coifs and snoods and wimples to flutter boldly at the edges of a face, or cascade in curls down a back. Men’s fashion was apparently only one step behind, for they now adorned their sensible black hats with ribboned cockades of colour, and she’d seen several rich merchants with coloured lace or embroidery around their cuffs and collars.

Oh, Mathilda, how ever did you do it?
Regal Vilmar Vollendorn would be glaring on the other side of his royal tombstone!

She was now clad in a dress of fine grey linen which had perhaps once belonged to a well-to-do burgher’s daughter, worn with a cloak lined daringly with red silk, while Ardhi resembled a sober young man from a wealthy merchant family, with gold buckles on his shoes and a gold pin in his velvet cap. Piper was more plainly dressed in her ordinary clothes, with her circlet covered by the high neck on the bodice. They had all agreed that she continue to wear it all the time, just as an added precaution.

At the castle’s main gate, and then again at the entrance to the inner bailey, they were admitted without question on the strength of the Regala’s letter. At the door to the keep, however, the guard questioned Ardhi and Piper’s presence and sent a messenger up to the Regal’s solar. In the end, Ardhi and Piper were conducted to a waiting room on the ground floor, while Sorrel was taken upstairs to the Regal’s private reception room. The footman who accompanied her, Machiel, was someone who had once known her well.

“I didn’t think we’d ever see you again,” he remarked. “We heard you stole something from the Regal’s solar and ran away!”

She raised a sharp eyebrow. “Now does that sound at all likely? I would not repeat that calumny, if I were you. I’m here at the Regala’s invitation and a rumour like that would reflect badly on the Regala’s wisdom.”

He paled. “Of course. Forgive me.”

“Gossip – it’s horrid, isn’t it?” She smiled to show there were no hard feelings and chatted to him about what had happened to various servants since she’d left.

Mathilda was waiting for her. Once Machiel had gone, and the door was closed, Sorrel sank into a respectful curtsey. “Your Grace,” she said. “I’m glad to see you in good health.”

“Oh, don’t start that,” Mathilda said. “I am so sick of protocol!” She came forward to take Sorrel’s hands in hers. “I have missed you, and I worried myself sick over what happened to you. I want to know everything, from the moment you left here.
Everything
. The Pontifect has been infuriatingly vague.”

She’s turning on the charm!
“Of course. Whatever you wish to know. Piper is here with my husband. If you’d like to see her…”

Mathilda made a gesture of negation with a hand. “Just the story.”

“It’s a very long one,” she said needlessly. “And I have two letters for you.” She extracted them from the basket she carried. “From Pontifect Fritillary and from King Ryce. And there’s a packet. That’s from Lord Juster Dornbeck.” She held it up. “I believe it contains fresh spices. He’s the king’s minister of trade and navy now, although he swears he will be back at sea in a year or two.”

Mathilda waved it away impatiently. “Yes, yes, but it is the
story
I want to hear. Sit down, and tell me everything.”

Almost three years had to be condensed into a coherent tale, and there were times when she had to backtrack, and parts she had to leave out. Servants came, bringing hot possets and sweetmeats, and much later to light the fire when the day grew colder. Each time, as soon as they were gone, Sorrel continued.

When speaking of the Chenderawasi, she was deliberately vague about magic plumes, and tried to give the impression – without actually lying – that the rulers were people rather than birds: people
with the ability to imbue physical objects, such as the necklet and the plumes and Ardhi’s kris, with magic. When relating what happened on the island, she exaggerated the powers of those people to destroy unwanted ships and sailors and factors.

And all the while she wondered why Mathilda asked only once about her daughter, wanting to know if “the child” was pretty, but her interest appeared impersonal, indifferent. She did comment that Piper was a ridiculous name, and what had she, Sorrel, been thinking of?

When a nurse brought in Prince-regal Karel to see his mother, Mathilda played with the boy for a few minutes while Sorrel watched. She didn’t think he bore much of a resemblance to Piper, who was smaller framed and had dark curly locks, compared to Karel’s robust build and fair, straight hair.

After a few minutes, Mathilda told him she was busy and the nurse carried him out, protesting. “It is always this way,” Mathilda said with a sigh. “I don’t have enough time to spend with him, poor lamb.”

Sorrel had not yet related what happened at the Betany shrine when the Regala sat back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the padded arms and said, “Understand this. My hold on the Basalt Throne is tenuous. The Lowmian nobility don’t like a woman having so much power. They don’t like an
Ardronese
royal having so much power. I have to prove myself, again and again and again. I walk a narrow path, and on either side there are hunting dogs waiting to taste my blood.”

“I can understand that,” she said neutrally.

“It’s strange, but do you know who helps me most? Lady Friselda! She’s so scared of penury, of having to leave the comforts of court, so frightened that her granddaughter will not make a good marriage if her grandmother loses her standing here, that she will do almost anything to help me. I used to hate her so, and now she is my only reliable, albeit self-interested, ally.”

Mathilda’s lips twisted in a dry, humourless smile as she continued. “Deremer is on his way back to Lowmeer with the remains of his Dire Sweepers, did you know? He’s another ally, afraid I’ll use what I know to bring his family down. I won’t, of course; I shall use him,
the way I use Friselda. One word from me about him and the other Sweeper families, and their support of Bengorth’s Law, and they are dead and buried. One word from them about the crime of the Vollendorns and Bengorth’s Law, and Prince-regal Karel and I are dead and buried. So we do our little gavotte, each step carefully planned to prop each other up and never to let the secrets escape into other ears.”

Her fingers continued their mesmerising tapping. “I keep everything inside me. I speak to no one about any of it. I have kept
your
secret. But no mistake, I am utterly ruthless when it comes to the welfare and future of my son. He
will
be Regal one day. He will be the greatest Regal this land has ever seen. Do nothing – any of you – to jeopardise that, or I’ll set my Sweeper dogs on your trail. And their fear of me is such that they will obey. Do you understand that?”

“Perfectly.” She kept her tone dry.

“There are some things I cannot risk,” Mathilda continued. “If I acknowledge to the world that I bore twins, people will wonder what else they don’t know. Perhaps they will begin to wonder if Karel really is Vilmar’s son. If Piper appears at court as some unknown girl, perhaps people will see her resemblance to me or to her brother. I cannot risk that. I do not want to ever see her. The court must never see her.”

“They don’t look at all alike.”

“I did think of asking King Ryce to raise her at his court, as his by-blow, or something similar, but I think that’s too risky too.”

Why couldn’t the woman think of Piper’s well-being for once, instead of her own? Sorrel’s thought was an angry one, and she had to push it away to keep her temper. “Your Grace, she has been raised by Saker, myself and my husband. We love her and the two of us will continue to raise her – as our own, if that is your desire.” Her heart was racing under her breastbone.

Dear Va, what will I do if she says no? She could take Piper, and then have her killed as soon as we turned our backs
…

Sorrel felt sick, horrified both that the idea had occurred to her, and that she couldn’t quite convince herself that it was unjust and undeserved.

Mathilda’s regard was thoughtful. “This husband of yours – he’s a lascar. That’s a common sailor. But the Pontifect’s letter said he is a royal in his own country.”

“They use another word for their rulers, but yes. He was his grandfather’s heir to what we would call a duchy, I suppose.” If there was one thing she knew, it was that nobles and princes thought that bloodlines were important, so she had no qualms about inflating Ardhi’s importance. “He’s also a scholar and studied such matters as navigation and commerce at one of the world’s greatest universities. He will do anything for Piper, just as you’d do anything for Prince-regal Karel.”

“You can keep Piper, on the condition that she is never told who she is, nor ever allowed anywhere near the court, or her brother.”

Waves of relief, followed by guilt, then sheer irritation, left Sorrel weak-kneed. “She will be well-loved and cared for, I swear. But what of the morality of her never knowing her twin brother?”

“What of it?” Mathilda shrugged. “What the two of them don’t know won’t worry them. Naturally, I will see to it that you are paid a stipend to cover her care. I shall tell the treasury it is a pension for your past services, as compensation for the false accusation made against you for stealing the feathers from the Regal’s fan.”

“Thank you, my lady.” She inclined her head, her relief still unknotting the tension in her every joint even as her irritation grew. It was time to change the subject. “If I may, there is another matter that we need to discuss. More serious.”

Mathilda arched her eyebrow. “Whatever could be more serious?”

Sorrel blinked. Surely Fritillary had told her that both the twins had been identified as potential sorcerers?

Of course she had!

She resisted a desire to grind her teeth. “I would think the fact that either, or both, of the twins could come into their sorcerous powers
was
more serious.”

“They must have been besmirched while I was in the family way. Fox must have sent one of his sons to court to – to contaminate them before they were even born.”

Sorrel resisted an urge to roll her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.” There was nothing to be achieved by arguing
that
point.

“The Pontifect told me, and you just confirmed it, that the Chenderawasi circlets will prevent any problems developing!”

“We
hope
so, but we are not sure how effective it will be. There are no guarantees. Necklets can be removed anyway. Once removed, no sorcerer would want to wear it again, would they?”

“What are you trying to say? You’ve just told me that you have a feather piece to use as well. Surely—”

“Your Grace, we have fought a long and damaging war to rid the hemisphere of the Foxes and their Grey Lancers. No one wants to see that again. The idea of a sorcerer on the Basalt Throne is unthinkable. If anyone found out that the prince-regal was—”

“By all the acorns on the oak, will you come to the point?”

“We think that the surest way to rid the prince-regal of his sorcerous stain is to use the feather piece we have, to use it
now.
But it might involve the destruction of a water shrine, and the death of its shrine keeper.”

As she explained exactly what had happened at the oak shrine in Betany, Mathilda paled. By the time she’d finished, the Regala was on her feet, staring angrily out of the window. “I can’t countenance the destruction of the Ustgrind shrine! Think of the scandal!”

“Think of the shrine keeper.”

“If a shrine keeper knew about… all this, they’d have to die anyway,” she snapped. “Besides, who do you think would get the blame for the disappearance of a water shrine and its spring? Your lascar would have to be there, wouldn’t he? And he’d be the logical catspaw. And of course, so would I, the Ardronese usurper of power, who allowed the heir to be in the presence of wicked foreign sorcery!”