The Royals

Chapter 22

By the Sisters,' Ginni thought to keep from laughing at the image.

'Sorry to interrupt your roaming,' said Masha, sound ing more pleased than annoyed. Worse and worse. This one enjoyed her superior position far too well.

Ginni kept her eyes on their shoes. She framed her response carefully, wrapping the words in humility. I meant no harm. I would do your bidding gladly.'

'I should expect you would,' the Sister said, rustling her skirt. 'You'd be out in the deepsnow if it weren't for our generosity.'

'Yes, and I thank the Sisters every day for it.'

'It appears you have yet to lose the dreadful arrogance your mother seems to have instilled in you.'

Ginni braced herself. This was the first time they'd mentioned Roslin to her since her arrival. Given their mutual opinions of each other… Better not to finish that thought.

"We were hoping you'd learn by our example,' said Dita.

'Unfortunately this hasn't been the case,' said Masha.

'We may have been imperfect in our teachings.' Dita's voice was smooth and comforting.

'More likely, you have been remiss in your studies."

'But I've been given no lessons,' Ginni answered, genuinely confused.

'Perhaps if you spent more time in your room, you would notice the materials placed there for your instruc tion.'

Ginni recognized the shake-down. She had seen govern ment thieves employ it any number of times on the road. She had even played the part of the soother while Wanton Tom posed as the bully on a few hungry occasions. She could not win through argument. 'How may I better serve you?'

'That's just it,' said Dita, sadly. 'We're not sure that you can.'

Ginni wasn't ready to be thrown out… yet. That they might do worse she wouldn't consider. It's just another role, she reminded herself. She'd seen tougher spots. 'But I do so want to. Serve you, I mean. I'll redouble my efforts.'

'We've given your problem a great deal of thought. Dita gently lifted Ginni's head so that she looked into the other's eyes. 'We've decided you'll need some help.'

The young mage let her relief show while hiding her genuine fear at their scheme. She didn't have to wait long.

A third woman returned with a fourth, who Ginni recognized from her dream.

'Revered Mother Caronn,' said Masha, 'I believe you know Ginni, the f*******n daughter of Roslin and Wan ton Tom.'

'Yes,' said Caronn.

Ginni curtseyed. 'I'm honored, ma'am.'

The woman was all business. 'Enough of that. We both know who leads the Forty-nine. Don't we.'

It was not a question. 'Yes, Revered Mother.'

I'm glad to hear it. Your mother did not. It was her downfall.'

Ginni waited. 'If you are to reach any level of profiency, you'll need to forget everything Roslin taught you and I do mean everything. You'll likely be as helpless as a baby for some time until we can retrain you.'

Imposed amnesia? Ginni had done so for isolated moments at Roslin's insistence, but this seemed much more far-reaching. Much more crippling. 'We begin today.

Return to your room. Now.'

Masha and Dita insured that she went - and that she stayed within.

The lock was beyond her ability. She saw only an ordinary keyhole. She detected no magic. Yet the knob did not turn and the door would not open from inside.

They soundlessly delivered several fine meals that day. Somewhere in the bowels of the compound, a cook worked wonders with the very few fresh supplies delivered during such a harsh winter following a poor growing season. As the young mage ate the food, she hoped the witches rewarded the chef for her trouble.

Hunger, thirst, bodily functions were each addressed to her comfort. No one saw to her mind. Boredom and brooding were her enemies. Her impotent bungling enveloped her. The witches let her stew.

She examined her room's every nook, cranny, and c***k to keep occupied. She found nothing noteworthy, nothing engaging. If waiting on her mother had been unbearable, this reached a new tier of excruciating.

Dreams flooded her night. The adversities of people she'd never met disturbed her rest.

Exhausted past thinking, it came to her that they would not feed and house a failure. 'I'm ready,' she said to the empty room. 'I'm ready to learn whatever you will teach.'

Revered Sisters Masha and Dita arrived together. They flanked her on each side, but Ginni had the impression their positioning had more to do with keeping each other honest than preventing her flight. They went down the hall to yet another interior room. Were there none with windows in this maze?

Though it shared identical dimensions with the pre vious rooms she'd seen, this one was less inviting. No blazing fire warmed the hearth. Unpadded ladder-backs rather than over-stuffed chairs discouraged rapport.

Ginni was beginning to think of the home of the Forty-nine as a mouse warren, jammed full of little rooms. Oddly the interior didn't match the view from outside. Perhaps most of the compound was built below ground.

'What's the difference between a decoction and an infusion?' asked Masha, without preamble.

The woman's abrupt style reminded Ginni of Roslin. She answered automatically before they could dismiss her as dull-witted or worse. 'An infusion is as simple as brewing tea. A decoction is made from the woodiest parts of the plant and therefore must be simmered a while to attain full strength.'

'How long?' asked Dita in gentler tones.

'The length of time depends on the plant. A Sisters twin watch that is, what's commonly counted as ten to fifteen minutes - is generally enough.'

'Sea-holly decoction,' said Masha.

What did she want to know? Remembering her mother's stiff phrasing, Ginni said, 'Helpful in afflictions related to eliminating liquid wastes. It can also be taken in as a tincture.'

'Huh,' grunted Masha. Your cockiness is unwar ranted. Milk-thistle.'

'A simple infusion drunk three times a day to help stimulate mother's milk. It too can be prepared as a tincture.'

'Good,' murmured Dita, ignoring the other's scowl.

So began the drill. Bittersweet, skull cap, poke root, wormwood. Common and obscure. Each herb spat at her in Masha's gruff voice. Each answer praised by Dita.

Ginni knew a set-up when she saw it. She didn't care. There was no other way to escape the Tower but through the very heart of it.

With Abadan's blessing, Walther paged through tome after tome, unwrapped scroll after scroll. Nothing told him what he needed to know. Either the lore of transformation had been so thoroughly hidden that no mage, including well-meaning ones, might find it - or it had been stolen.

'I warned you that you would not find it,' Abadan said over the dwarf's shoulder.

'Then why did you let me look?'

'I hoped I might be wrong. Fresh eyes often find what old ones miss."

"Alvaria has them, doesn't she?'

'Almost certainly.'

'And you let her keep them?'

'How were we to stop her?'

'She was but a single woman!' Walther accused.

'All the better to slip in and out unnoticed. And who would have held the capital while we chased after her shadow?'

'Never mind,' Walther said, defeated in more ways than just this. He could not help Kate. He could not find Ceeley. He could not defeat the elfwitch. He was a tired, worn-out dwarf, though he'd barely come of age among his people. 'What's the use?'

'Because,' hissed Abadan, 'we cannot win if we do not fight.' Veins stood out on the magician's face. He seemed as angry as Walther had ever seen him, yet his anger was shot through with a truth Walther could not deny.

'All right, Master Abadan. All right.' The dwarf crossed the chamber and settled back into his chair.

Now, the Three Great Sisters from the beginning please." 'The Three Great Sisters guard over the races of people - human, elven and dwarven. Unlike mortals, they do not fight amongst themselves for glory or territory or petty

A knock sounded on the door.

'In!' shouted Abadan.

The knob turned. The door swung open.

An elf walked in and closed the door

'You two will remember each other, yes?'

The elf tipped his head to Walther and the dwarf nodded in response. He was Harmon, Zera's apprentice. Where had the man been these last months since her death? Secluded in mourning?

'Harmon will be joining us until Kate returns.'

Why? Walther dared not voice his question aloud.

'We'll need every magician we can find,' Abadan con tinued smoothly, answering the unasked. ‘And Harmon has trained under one of the best.'

Meaning Zera, of course.

'Your talents will complement each other.' He waved at the chair claimed by Kate until days ago. 'No need to wait for an invitation, man. Sit.'

Harmon glared at the magician, but did as he was told.

We were drilling. Do you know the Doctrine of the Great Sisters?'

'Yes,' Harmon answered in clipped tones.

'Well, go on then.' Harmon let out a pained sigh and began the recitation.

Maybe it's the chair, Walther thought. No one who occupies it seems able to abide the magician who rules over it.

As Harmon spoke, his cadence lulled Walther into a waking trance. As always, the vision gripped him and held him as the veils dropped from Alvaria's absolute evil.

Atop twin altars lay two young elves - apparently male though it was hard to tell from the faces misshapen in agony - elves in the process of becoming trolls.

'No, don't!' Walther shouted. Please, Sacred Sisters, stop it. I don't want to see.'

There was never any rescue, never a release from the elfwitch's horror.

For Goatboy, the next hours moved as slowly as an old man, but their end arrived as abrupt and unwelcome as a newborn's death. Throughout the day, he could hear the mournful wails of Tabor and Theron's mother. Silently, the rest of the camp went about preparing for a ceremony. No one dared to speak aloud the word 'transformation' though most feared it just the same. Had not the elfwitch threatened to exact such a punishment when she converted the dragon into a human? Goatboy was as cursed as the brothers. He dreaded nightfall with all his heart. He hated his part in the proceedings with all his soul.

A sentinel summoned him into the One's tent at sunset. The boy shivered uncontrollably from having spent the day outdoors in the unusually frigid winds, yet he couldn't recall his earlier sense of comfort amidst the heat of the braziers. Endure, he told himself. You can only endure.

The elfwitch had changed into stunning red robes rimmed in gold. 'Attend me, Notti. She held out a large, empty ceremonial bowl. "Carry this and bring it near when I tell you.'

Goatboy didn't answer. 'Do you understand?' Her voice was harsh. 'Yes, I understand,' he answered in a monotone. 'Don't disappoint me,' she hissed just as she led him out into the eerily quiet camp.

She stopped behind the central altar to take in the sun's last rays glistening off the lake. A fire blazed in front of the dais between the elfwitch and her subjects. With the sun down, it provided a strange orange light made from more than birch-wood. Tabor and Theron were bound, gagged, and strapped to altars on either side of the elfwitch.

'My people, Alvaria began. 'I warned against this months ago.' She shook her head. But some doubled my word. Some questioned my power.' She pointed into a crowd so silent that only their swaying torches gave away their presence. Many of you expected me to sit idly among you, each and every day, though I had other duties, other burdens.' She looked down at the captive elves. 'Two of you dared to mock me as if I were no more than a lucky troll come into her own!' 'Have mercy!' shouted their mother. 'Please. They are only high-spirited boys.'

'Mercy.' Alvaria spat into Tabor's and Theron's eyes

'Boys who commit treason will be repaid sevenfold for the agony they hoped to inflict on me.' The woman moaned but the One ignored her. "Tonight you will see that my power is limitless. Tonight you will learn that I always keep my word.'

She glanced to the goatboy and he stepped forward with the bowl. It's all his fault. Goatboy's the one that did it!' shouted the woman. 'You all know it's true.'

Through Notti's tears, he witnessed her imploring and tugging on her neighbors. All stood stiff as statues. Not one came to her aid.

'Here.' The elfwitch pointed and the goatboy moved to place his bowl where she'd indicated. He knew without knowing what came next. He attempted to close his eyes to keep from watching, but unseen fingers held them open.