My Dearest Tris
There's been no word of how the siege is going, and my imagination is inventing all kinds of reasons that I haven't heard from you. Please send some note to ease my mind. I miss you terribly.
I'm doing well and the baby is beginning to show. Perhaps now I can keep some food down. Cerise says the stomach problems will go away, but not soon enough for me. Crevan means to keep me safe, but I'm not used to staying in my rooms all day with a guard at my door. Harrtuck has gone with some guardsmen to put down a problem in the hill country, and it seems as if one by one, old friends slip out of reach.
There's so much I want to tell you, but I don't dare trust it in a letter. When you return, so many things will be set right. Until then, we're doing our best to carry on. I pray the siege will be short and that you can come back soon. Stay safe, and send word. With love, Kiara
Kiara sighed and slipped the note into an envelope, then sealed it with hot wax and pressed her signet, marking the wax with the crest of Margolan's queen. She handed the letter to Crevan, the seneschal.
"You're certain my letters are included in the packets that you send to the front?" Kiara probed.
The thin man fidgeted, reminding Kiara of a long-legged bird. "Yes, my queen. But the snows are deep, and even documents that require the king's signature are not returning quickly. Some have not come back at all. It takes most of a week to reach where the army is camped-and that's when the roads are passable and there are no brigands. I fear the king has other matters on his mind." Crevan smiled. "I'm sure your letters to him are a comfort, even if he's not able to respond. I have another messenger leaving tomorrow with the supplies."
"Thank you," Kiara murmured.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady, but you look tired. Perhaps you should rest."
Kiara sighed. "I will. I just need to slow my thoughts."
"As you wish, m'lady. Shall I have some tea and cakes sent up?"
Kiara shook her head. "Thank you, no. Macaria brought up some mulled cider. I'll have
some later."
"Sleep well, m'lady."
Kiara turned away as she shut the door. "I'm worried, Cerise." Tonight, she sat up late in Cerise's room, since the healer stayed up later than either Alle or Macaria. "It's been almost three months since the army left and I haven't received any notes at all from Tris. That's not like him." She set the letter aside. Beyond the frost-covered windows, the bells in the bailey tower chimed midnight. Jae, her small gyregon, lay as close to the fire as he dared, curled up to stay warm. Tris's three dogs, two wolfhounds and the mastiff, sprawled near the fire as well.
"There are all kinds of reasons why," Cerise said gently. "The war may give him very little time for personal luxuries. The king may hesitate to send so personal a message through uncertain hands. Your mother fretted for all the same reasons when your father was away on campaign."
"I wish Tris were here, Cerise," Kiara said quietly. "So many things have happened since the army left. Malae's death. Mikhail and Bian locked up. Harrtuck sent away with the troops. And the attacks." Her voice drifted off. "I don't want to tell him about what's happened-he has enough on his mind. But I know that if he were here, we'd get to the bottom of it." Her hand fell to the slight curve at her belly. "Staying locked up in my rooms seems like a poor way to manage my first months as queen!"
Cerise laid a hand on her shoulder. "Until we know who's behind the attacks, there's no choice." She smiled. "It's late. Crevan's right; you should rest."
Kiara nodded and stood, stretching. "If I don't hear from Tris soon, I'm going to scry. What good is the regent magic if I never use it?" Cerise always kept the windows open at night, and a cold breeze fluttered the parchment on the desk, making Kiara shift to move out of the chill.
Cerise frowned. "Carroway told me how dangerous it was when you tried to scry on your journey."
"That was because of the Obsidian King and Foor Arontala. They're gone now." "There are still dark things that seek you-and your child-on the nether plains. Please Kiara, reconsider."
Kiara nodded tiredly. "All right. For now. Good night, Cerise."
Carrying her candle, Kiara moved to the doorway that separated her rooms from Cerise's. Jae and the dogs stirred from their spot near the fire to follow her. Kiara opened the door, and saw that Alle had taken up a spot for the night in a chair near the fire, and that Macaria had fallen asleep at the table, with her head on her music and her flute beside her on the floor. Kiara smiled and walked over to gently shake Macaria. When she didn't wake, Kiara set the candlestick on the table and used both hands to shake Macaria by the shoulders. "Wake up, sleepyhead! You'll have a cramp in your neck."
Macaria did not rouse. Kiara turned toward where Alle was sprawled in her chair. "Alle, wake up!"
Alle did not move, but Cerise came to the doorway. "What's wrong, Kiara?" "They won't wake up!"
Cerise closed her eyes and sniffed the air, extending one hand as she used her healer's magic. Her eyes opened wide. "Bad air. Open the windows wide-hurry!" Kiara ran to open the mullioned windows and threw both sets open as far as the heavy leaded panes would go. She helped Cerise drag Macaria and Alle close to the cold, fresh air, and fanned them as Cerise went for cold water and her healer's pack. "Can we open the balcony doors in the king's room?" Cerise asked. Kiara used her key to open the double doors that separated her sitting room from Tris's bedchamber, while Cerise went to fetch the guards. Ammond and Hothan, two of Kiara's favorites among the guards, came quickly, lifting Macaria and Alle easily and following Kiara into Tris's chamber. Kiara flung the doors to the snow-covered balcony open. The winter wind blew the curtains wide and wisps of snow drifted onto the Noorish carpet. Ammond and Hothan held the two unconscious women so that the cold wind would blow squarely in their faces, while Cerise daubed their skin with snow.
"Lay them down," Cerise ordered, and Ammond and Hothan complied. Cerise took a vial of green liquid from the pouch at her belt and forced Alle's mouth open, carefully dropping the sharp-smelling liquid onto her tongue. She did the same for Macaria.
"None of us has felt well today," Kiara said, helping Cerise administer drops of a second liquid.
"How did you feel?" Cerise asked tersely as Macaria began to stir. In a moment, Alle groaned and grimaced.
"Alle's had a headache since this morning, and my stomach's been worse than usual," Kiara replied. "Macaria was complaining of being terribly tired. She perked up some after she went down to practice with the bards for a while, but when she came back this evening, she tired easily." She looked at Cerise. "Do you know what it is?"
Cerise nodded, tight-lipped. Alle opened her eyes. "Why am I lying in the snow?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" Cerise asked, letting her hand move from Alle's forehead down her neck and chest, stretching out with her healing magic.
"I had a horrible headache, and I thought that if I just closed my eyes for a while, that it might be better," Alle replied. "What happened?"
Macaria caught her breath sharply, and Cerise motioned for Hothan to help her sit. She opened her eyes, and shivered. "Where am I?"
Kiara knelt beside her. "Safe. We're trying to figure out why you and Alle got sick." "It's not sickness," Cerise said in a clipped voice as she finished running her hand over Macaria's forehead. "As soon as I came into your room, my magic told me the air was bad. I've seen this before. Fire sends off bad vapors as well as heat. If something blocks the flue, the bad air fills the room. You're lucky that you were in my room instead of going to bed early. All three of you might have died."
Kiara and Cerise exchanged a glance. Kiara realized Cerise shared her suspicions. They said nothing as Hothan and Ammond helped Alle and Macaria walk back into the bedchamber, and Kiara secured the balcony doors behind them. Cerise motioned for them to come to her rooms, and made sure the door to Kiara's chambers was shut tightly with blankets sealing the gap beneath it. They opened the windows wide. "Tomorrow morning, I want you to check my chimney personally," Kiara instructed Hothan. "If anyone asks, tell them I complained because of the soot. Take a long stick and see if you can find something stuck in there. Once the air clears, we can try the same thing from the bottom."
"Shall I inform Master Crevan?" Hothan asked. Kiara shook her head. "Not yet. Let's see what we find."
They slept fitfully, huddled together and covered with layers of blankets, as the fire in Cerise's fireplace was no match for the winter wind that blew through the open windows. Jae slept at Kiara's feet, huddled next to Tris's dogs. As soon as it was light, Hothan left his post at the door
for the dangerous climb to the palace roof.
They ate breakfast in Cerise's room and dressed in Tris's chambers, to give the guard time to check the chimney. After another candlemark, Kiara returned to her own rooms, which were freezing cold. The fire had gone out, and the open windows had cleared the air. Wrapping her cloak around her, Kiara motioned for Cerise to bring her a lantern and grabbed a poker from near the hearth. Kiara shoveled the embers into the fireplace bucket, and laid a heavy mat over the still-warm hearthstone as she lifted the lantern and twisted into position to see. Gingerly, she poked upward with the iron bar. The bar struck something hard. Kiara handed Cerise the lantern, and poked harder, using both hands. The metal bar rang out against stone.
"There's something wedged in there, just beyond where I can reach," Kiara said. "It's got the
chimney partially blocked."
"But not beyond the reach of a man," Cerise mused.
Just then, Hothan returned. His face was red with cold and he was rubbing his hands together. "You're right, m'lady. There was a rock wedged in near the top of the chimney-fit well enough to let the smoke out, but covered enough to keep the bad air in. I was able to pry it loose, but I probably broke a brick or two doing it."
Kiara dusted herself off and motioned for Hothan to take her place at the hearth. "Thank you. There's something stuck at this end, too. Please, try your luck." She handed him the poker. After a few minutes, Hothan gave a hard push and bits of rock fell to the ground. Kiara bent down and picked up one of the bits, turning it in her hands. "That's strange," she mused. She looked at Hothan. "You're quite sure the thing jammed in up above was a rock?"
Hothan nodded. "More like a shaped rock, from a building. It had been chiseled." Kiara looked at Cerise and the others. "This is the same-look at the tool marks." "Someone meant for the chimney to be plugged. They meant for us to suffocate," Alle said quietly.
The seventh bells tolled outside. Macaria jumped up. "I'm due to meet with Carroway and the bards," she said, rushing into Cerise's room to change clothes. "I'll find out if they've heard anything-or seen anyone around the rooftop. And I promise to bring back fresh pastries if cook hasn't sent some up by then." Macaria slipped past the guards and into the hallway.
"What now?" Alle asked. "One of us has been in the rooms at all times." Kiara took the rock and dropped it down the garderobe. "Who came near the fireplace?" Alle frowned. "When I've been in the rooms, only the servants who deliver the firewood. Macaria and I take turns leaving for meals, but it's usually the same two men who bring the wood and set the fire morning and evening."
"Did you notice anything different? Did they spend longer than usual or do anything out of the ordinary?" Cerise asked.
Alle thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "I have to admit-so long as they came in and went straight to the fireplace and left without touching anything, I didn't hover over them. I don't remember them acting oddly."
"To most of us, servants are nearly invisible," Cerise said quietly. "That makes them the perfect spies-and the perfect assassins."
"No one asked to enter your rooms except for the fire starters, and the kitchen servant who brought up your supper," Ammond said. "I agree with Lady Alle. It was the same two men who usually come, and there was nothing about it that stood out in my mind." Kiara looked to Ammond. "See if you can find the servants who brought the wood yesterday-morning and evening. Say that the logs were too green and didn't burn well. Or you might say I didn't like the way the fire was set. Anything to give you an excuse to see if the two regular fire starters made the rounds yesterday and whether anyone is acting suspiciously. We probably can't prove who did this, but perhaps we'll flush out some information."
"Done, m'lady," Ammond said with a bow, quickly leaving the room. "Now, we wait," Kiara said, glancing at Alle, who nodded. "Whoever did this will know something went wrong once it's clear we're not dead. If we're lucky, he or she will double back to figure out what happened. And if we're not lucky. maybe whoever's behind this will wait a while before trying something else."
Ammond returned within a candlemark. "I found one of the fire starters," he reported. "Caught up with him when he came back to the woodshed for another load. His name is Lasset, and he's been at the palace all his life, except for when he ran away last year to hide from Jared. He's an older man, and he was most distressed that m'lady was unhappy with her fire," Ammond said. "Once I got him to stop apologizing, he mentioned that he hadn't seen Sarrey-that's his partner-since last night. Seems Sarrey missed making the rounds this morning, and left Lasset
with the whole job. He says he doesn't do your rooms until after tenth bells in case m'lady
wants to sleep late."
"What about Sarrey?" Kiara asked.
"That's the interesting part. As I was coming back from the woodshed, there were guards out behind the stables. I went over to see what the excitement was about, and it seems that someone put a knife in Sarrey's back sometime last night." He grimaced. "And since it's a sure bet that Sarrey didn't stab himself, that means someone didn't want him answering any questions."
"Thank you," Kiara said quietly, sitting down. "That will be all. Say nothing of this to anyone." Ammond and Hothan bowed low and went back to their post in the hallway. "Damn! We still don't know whether we're up against one plotter or more than one-or even what they hope to gain."
Alle smiled conspiratorially. "Let's try to get our minds off what happened. At least until we know what's behind it. I suggest something far more fun-like taking bets on how long it will be until Carroway and Macaria finally admit they're in love."
Kiara chuckled. "All last year while we were on the road, Carroway kept writing ballads and dedicating them to her. Honestly, he's moon struck over her whenever she's not around, and when she comes near, he pretends that he's all business!" Cerise built a new fire with fresh kindling and wood from the pile next to the hearth. "I've never seen two people so attracted to each other make everything so complicated. It doesn't take a seer to know the girl's head over heels for him. If he's worried about getting involved with her while he's her patron, then why not find her another patron-like Lady Eadoin? 'Tis what many a lord of the manor has done when a pretty young ward has stolen his heart."
Despite everything, Kiara chuckled. "Or Macaria could take a lesson from Tris and me and combine falling in love with being outlaw vagabonds!"
Just then the door opened. Macaria entered and set the basket of breads on the table, turning away quickly. Even so, it was obvious that she had been crying. Alle exchanged concerned glances with Kiara and took a step toward Macaria. "What's wrong? What happened?"
Macaria stifled a sob and turned back toward them. "They've sent him away!" she said, struggling to maintain her composure. "Crevan's banished Carroway from Shekerishet." "Why?" Kiara gasped.
Alle moved to offer Macaria a glass of water, but Macaria waved her away. She began to pace. "It's all over the palace. You know how careful Carroway was to never be alone with the queen. One or more of us were always, always here if he came to the suite, and he didn't come often. But the old rumors, about him and his patronesses, they just won't go away. Someone at court spun a new story. They're saying that he seduced the queen, that with the king gone, they've been lovers-" Kiara paled. "Neither of us would ever betray Tris like that."
Macaria wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Most folks don't let facts get in the way of a good story. Paiva and Bandele, two of our closest minstrel friends, think it's being put around by Lady Guarov. She's got a mean tongue, and she was a friend of Lady Nadine." The others took her meaning. Nadine was the noblewoman King Bricen banished years before for forcing Carroway into an affair when he was barely in his teens. "Where's Carroway?" Alle asked, as Cerise laid a hand in comfort on Kiara's shoulder. Macaria drew a ragged breath. "He's under house arrest at the Dragon's Rage Inn, until the king returns. If it weren't for Carroway's friendship with the king, Crevan would have probably put him in the dungeon. As it is, he's forbidden from returning to court or being in the presence of the queen, on pain of death." She looked from Kiara to Alle to Cerise. "What are we going to do? He'll be charged with high treason."
Kiara drew a deep breath. Her heart was racing. If the gossips believe the rumors, then only two courses are possible-that we conspired together or that he forced me. The penalty for either is death or exile. There's no doubt about the paternity of the baby, thank goodness, but after the birth…
"Unfortunately, there's nothing we dare do," Cerise said quietly. "The charges may be against Carroway, but they implicate the queen. She can't lift a finger to help him without seeming to confirm the rumors." She shook her head. "We knew there were nobles here who lost their chance at power when Tris took an outland bride. There are Margolan interests that benefit from disgracing Kiara. And then there are Curane's spies and Jared's loyalists who stand to gain if there were any question about the suitability of the child to take the crown. Lady Nadine has a powerful motive for revenge. There are too many suspects, and we don't even know if we're fighting one or all of them."
"Aunt Eadoin will know what to do," Alle said. "I'll find out what she's heard. She'll know all
the players. I'd been thinking of asking her if we could come to stay at her manor for a while to get you away from the palace and out of danger. Brightmoor is small and all of her servants have been with her forever. It would be so much easier to spot an intruder or an outsider."
Kiara nodded, and met Alle's eyes. "Go to her. We need all the help we can get on this. Damn them! One by one, all our friends become targets. We've got to figure out who's behind this, or Tris could win the battle to find his court fighting amongst itself. "The more we stay secluded in our rooms-trying to thwart the assassin-the freer the gossips are to talk," Kiara said, trying to still her own emotions. "But if we let it be known about the attacks-assuming anyone would believe us now-it undermines Tris's authority. He'll look unable to control his own court or assure my safety. If either of the rumors makes it back to Isencroft, father will be outraged, and the nobles will push him to save face. He's already in a precarious position with the divisionists. This could force him into two losing choices-to do nothing and appear weak, or to break the treaty and declare hostilities. Isencroft can't afford a war-and neither can Margolan."
Upstairs at the Dragon's Rage Inn, Master Bard Riordan Carroway paced the small, spare room. Outside, the two guards who had escorted him at sword's point from Shekerishet kept watch. Carroway ran a hand back through his long, blue-black hair. His stomach had been knotted since Crevan told him what the rumors alleged. Nothing Carroway had said moved Crevan to change his pronouncement of banishment, and in the absence of the king, the seneschal's word was law.
A servant arrived within a few candlemarks after Carroway was imprisoned in his room. The servant brought the contents of Carroway's room at the palace, confirmation that the banishment was expected to be permanent. His instruments were propped carefully against one wall. Clothing spilled from a large trunk. A smaller trunk held sundry personal belongings. On the table, dinner sat untouched.
Carroway looked up sharply as the door opened, half expecting to see soldiers come to move him to the dungeon. Macaria slipped into the room, lowering the hood of her cloak. She looked drawn and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
"Oh, Carroway!" she cried, flinging her arms around him. "I came as soon as I could. Are you all right?"
Carroway gave a bitter smile. "For someone accused of high treason, tolerably well." "But it's not true. We all know it's not. King Martris will believe you. You're his best friend." Carroway sighed. "I'd like to believe that. But I've also heard enough stories about the kings of the Winter Kingdoms to know that more than one was betrayed by his best friend and his queen." He sank into a chair, his long-fingered hands clasped tightly together. "Besides, the damage is done. It's not just the charges against me. Everything that's being said also hurts Kiara. Margolan can find a new master bard easier than it can a new queen." He avoided meeting her eyes. "If I were chivalrous, I imagine I'd write a flowery note protesting my innocence and then have the good manners to hang myself, saving Tris the trouble. It might even make a good ballad." "Don't joke about things like that." Carroway shrugged. "It's one of the better options." "What do you mean?"
Carroway looked at her with a pained expression. "The usual penalty for high treason is hanging, or if the king feels theatrical, beheading. Throw in adultery with the queen, and there's precedent for being drawn and quartered." Impelled to move, he stood and began to pace once more. "If Tris decides to spare my life, the next possibility is confinement in one of the citadels of the Sisterhood, forced to take vows to the Lady, that sort of thing. If I were to be locked away at Westmarch, I might not mind too much-they had some Keepers there who were fine musicians-except that confinement traditionally includes castration, to make the point." He grimaced. "Not a pleasant thought."
Carroway turned away from Macaria, unable to watch the expression on her face. "Exile has its own set of complications. It would depend on how clearly the king let his displeasure be known. Out of the seven kingdoms, Tris is related by blood, marriage or alliance to five of them. Nargi and Trevath are hardly prospects," he said distastefully. "No other court would welcome me if it would sour relationships with Margolan. Neither would the most powerful nobles. That would leave the lesser houses, the ones that would be unlikely to be noticed by the crown, or the inns. I'd be playing for dinner and a place in the stable, but I might keep body and soul together."
There was another option, one he would not speak aloud. While they might not offer me a bard's position, there'd be more than a few of the nobility who would welcome me via the back entrance, trading shelter for… favors. Lady Nadine wasn't the first to offer, just the most
aggressive. It would keep a roof over my head-at least while my looks last. Sweet Chenne! Am I reduced to whoring already?
Macaria slipped up behind him and put her arms around him. Carroway stiffened at her touch. "We've talked about it, the others and I. Paiva, Bandele, Tadghe and Halik all agree that if you're exiled, we'll go with you. We stand a better chance together." She rested her cheek against his back, and Carroway closed his eyes. Please don't say you love me. Not now. I don't think I could bear it. He used all of his acting skill to keep his face neutral as he turned, gently disengaging from her embrace.
"What would that serve? Without me, you all get promoted," he said, although his smile was lopsided. "You have the talent to become the new master bard. Your music has real magic. And now, you've become the queen's protector. It's the access and the position you've always wanted. I'll manage."
"Kiara thinks it's a plot," Macaria blurted. Carroway listened intently as Macaria told him about the most recent attack. "There's no doubt that blocking the flue was intended to kill. And it might have succeeded, if Kiara hadn't sat up late with Cerise in Cerise's rooms. Cerise always sleeps with the windows open-must have ice for blood," Macaria chuckled, although her eyes were bright with tears. "I'm glad you're all right."
"Alle's going to see about inviting Kiara to Lady Eadoin's manor for a while. She says it might be easier to protect her there."
"That's an excellent idea. Eadoin might also be able to find out who's behind the rumors." "Alle's already working on it," Macaria replied.
Carroway took her hand. "That's your first priority: protect Kiara and the heir. Compared to that, nothing else matters-certainly not a bard, in the grand scheme of history." "Since I first came to court, I've heard you talk about Tris. King Martris," Macaria said evenly. "And since he took the throne, you've told us all how fair he is, how important justice is to him, what a good king he is. If all that's true, then I can't believe he'll just toss you away. You saved his life when the coup happened, and you protected him time and again on the road."
Carroway smiled sadly. "That's what you do for your king," he said quietly. "And, friendship aside, I was honored to do it. The sacrifices usually don't work the other way around." Macaria set her jaw and her eyes flashed. "He slipped into Nargi to rescue Jonmarc
Vahanian."
Carroway sighed. "Tris wasn't king then. Now, the kingdom is depending on him. There are risks he can't afford to take." Although he longed to take her in his arms and hold her until his fears calmed, banishment placed that choice even further out of reach. "You'd better be getting back to the palace," he said. "And while I like the company, please be careful. You don't want people to say you're carrying messages from the queen to her imprisoned lover." Macaria swallowed hard and nodded. "I thought about that. I'll be careful. I promise. But I had to come."
"I'm glad you did. Thank the others for me. And please, send my deepest apologies to Kiara. I'd never do anything to harm her, or Tris."
"She knows. We all know that." Macaria threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He let the moment sear into his memory, recalling the press of her body against his, the scent of her hair, the feel of her hands on his back. "There has to be a way out of this," she whispered. "There just has to be."
Gently, Carroway disentangled himself before his composure crumbled. "Maybe. But there's a reason so many of the true ballads have sad endings." He shook his head before she could say anything. "You'd better be getting back," he repeated, surprised that his voice was steady. "It means a lot that you came."
Macaria nodded. She grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself, pausing to look back at him, before she slipped out of the door. Carroway poured himself a glass of brandy from the bottle that was sent with his dinner, and was not surprised that his hands were shaking. Dying young and tragically is the surest way to eternal fame, he thought. Maybe I'll be remembered after all.