The Royals

Chapter 45

Perhaps, perhaps not.' 'How can it be not,' she asked, a hint of anger daring

to creep in.

"Perhaps Alvaria sent him to us. Certainly she seeks to exploit our every weakness. How better than to encumber us with a burden which we can't abandon.' 'But he's no trouble at all.'

THE ROYAL FOUR

"That's not the onus of which I speak, the voice said softly. 'but rather the responsibility of decision. Chances are we should send him back-' 'Or kill him.'

The voice seemed different, but Notti couldn't be sure if the same person spoke... or whether anyone had. His imagination was mired with confusion.

He tossed and rolled. He could not wake. A cool hand felt his forehead and his cheeks. 'Rest. You're safe here.' She seemed to believe her words.

But did he?

Ceeley sat on the bank watching the blood river. She no longer thought of evil as something foreign to her. Like the river phlegm dripping from her clothes, it enveloped her. It wormed its way into her skin and made her itch. She knew this itch. Scratching made it worse, gave

her a rash like she got sometimes when she rubbed

against poison oak. The thing to do was ignore it until

it went away. Two human grown-ups were washed up on the sand. A man raved like maybe he was a lunatic. The woman had tried to hug Ceeley when they first emerged from the water, but now she merely pinched her ugly face in disapproval of the world. They both reminded her of someone she'd known once, or maybe met in a dream.

She had very interesting dreams. Ceeley shrugged the people off. They weren't her

responsibility. She was just a little dwarf kid. Elves were waiting on the bank for her to come to them. She eagerly scrambled over the rocks to the grass above.

Above the river the land was desolate. Snow lay in patches, but the ground was cracked and hungry

underneath. With the top-soil blown away, the wan, yellowish earth reminded Celia of a fever dwarves could catch from river insects.

A bitter wind blew and she shivered. The elves paid

no notice. They didn't offer a blanket or dry clothes and

she was too proud to ask. They waved her forward and took up a position on either side. Four more elves hung back, sticking around for the humans to reach them.

The silence was spooky. It wasn't so much quiet as

an absence of sound. (Absence was a new word she'd

learned and she felt pleased to find a use for it.) The pressure on her ears wrapped her in a bubble of not-sound; but she feared the elves would leave her behind with the crazy man if she paused to try to clear them. Maybe noise got lost here.

The dwarf concentrated hard to pick up sound some

other way and noticed the ground was shaking. Something

was coming. Something big.

Or did she imagine a sound to fill the empty hole? Ceeley's clothing dried stiff with river rubbish as the three walked toward camp. She could no longer see the river - would have forgotten it existed but for the reek of her tunic. To her right and left were misshapen men and women of all races or no races she knew - laboring at mysterious tasks. Could they be foreigners from distant lands?

An elf's whip slapped the air and suddenly the sound came rushing in. Mournful cries and the pounding of machinery broke through first, but other, fainter noises followed. A baby whimpered nearby. Fire crackled far off.

She realized she was warm again without a coat.

Thick greasy smoke billowed up, coating her nose and throat. She tried to cough only to discover an open mouth gave her a stronger taste of the putrid smell. Behind her, a woman sobbed, deep heart-wrenching

wails. Ceeley hurried to get away from her. What was the matter with that woman and with all

these people? Didn't they understand life was a crude series of let-downs great and small? Didn't they know this was all they could hope for, unless they served the One well enough that she might ease their way into the hands of the Sisters? And then they could join their parents. For Ceeley no

day could be finer than the one on which she saw her ma and da again. She looked back at the crazy man and the frowny-faced woman. Maybe those two grown-ups had forgotten their parents were waiting. Maybe they didn't have any parents.

She didn't know why she thought so, but it seemed it

must be true for them to be so upset. Ceeley felt a little

bad for them then. It's a sad thing not to have parents, a

very sad thing.

Hadrian delighted in giving Kate the report of the battle and its aftermath. He swaggered into the dungeon, stop ping first to joke with the guards in a loud voice.

'Won't be long now before they crown me, boys. That princeling led the soldiers into a fool battle and couldn't stomach the c*****e. The bugger passed out. Can you imagine?'

Ivan and Lyam let out loud guffaws for the prince's benefit.

'I hear he ran from the worst of it,' Hadrian continued. 'He returned just long enough for the clean-up and to put a few of the wounded out of their misery.'

"Too bad we don't have him here, sire,' Lyam said. 'We could show him the meaning of bloodshed.' The guard grunted as if stabbed.

Kate sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around them. Henry was no coward. If he'd left the battlefield, there was a greater need elsewhere. Or perhaps he'd never left it at all. Perhaps it was all a rumor spread by Hadrian's men. In order to shut out the present ridicule she tried to focus on worrying over what Hadrian had done with Maarcus. But she had dreamed of the dead men.

'No survivors but the prince himself. Isn't that fine?' Hadrian broke through Kate's best efforts to ignore him. 'I'm sure you had a hand in that.' The corpses would

be undeniable, if not the cause. His face showed surprise, then pride. 'Anything to aid my homeland.'

Kate turned her back to him, but he remedied that by entering the cell next to hers. He stood as close as he dared, just beyond her reach. 'I have waited since before you were born for this and I will have it." 'You're more than welcome to what's left.'

'Care to put that in writing?'

Kate cursed. 'I'd rather be transformed into a troll.' He frowned, his eyebrows forming a black and grey vee across his forehead. 'Ah well. Still simmering I see. We'll have to bring you to a full boil if we expect you to see our way of thinking. Fortunately there's no shortage of water in The Cliffs."

The princess could only wonder what he'd done to the water.

Changing tacks, Hadrian breathed warm moist air on her neck. You're quite lovely,' he whispered. Kate swallowed a grimace and said nothing.

'It's appropriate for a lady to thank a gentleman when

paid a compliment. I suppose your foster-parents must have been lacking in social graces." Thank you,' she said, not rising to the bait.

Or perhaps it is your mother who lacks.". What could she say to that? The usual defense did

not apply. 'Is she as ruthless as they say?'

Kate kept her silence, and waited to see where he led the twisted path of conversation. 'Speaking for myself, I'm doubtful she's behind the

trolls. Women simply don't have the fortitude for battle.

Wouldn't you agree?"

Kate did not answer. 'Look at me," he ordered. Kate turned to face him but

kept her eyes fixed over his shoulder. His hand reached through the bars and gripped her

chin. He yanked her head sharply up and down. 'Don't you agree?" 'Many say so," she answered, unsure of his intent.

*Women prefer much more devious routes. For instance, I've found the best assassins are female. What do you say to that?"

'I wouldn't question your experience."

He tilted his head sideways as if he were deciding whether she insulted him. Apparently concluding she hadn't, he let go of her chin and backed away.

"You won't profit by resisting me.'

"Oh?" she asked.

'No, it only prolongs your friend's agony.' It was the first time Hadrian had mentioned Maarcus since he'd taken him away. Kate yearned for more information, but kept her silence. Prince Hadrian would tell her only what he wanted her to know.

'He's strong, as I expected,' he continued. But he's wasting his time. I will break him... even if I have to go through you to get there.' Hadrian rose and left the cell. 'I'm through here, Lyam. It's time the princess found a permanent home.'

After the disastrous battle against the elfwitch, Walther took to spending his time in the magician's chamber. He read the scrolls or practiced simple healing with Harmon. Occasionally, Abadan stole a moment to comment on Walther's progress.

More and more, the dwarf suffered visions.

He lay on his back still breathing hard from the most recent episode. Not as ghastly as some, it left him exhausted nonetheless. Slowly Walther rose and slid onto what had become his stool. He held out his hand, willing the tremors to

cease. When he was sure he could control his own flesh,

he dipped the quill into the ink and began writing.

'We stood on the edge of the world. The Green was behind us under feet of snow, but we knew it was there. Life lay beneath the apparently fal low soil.

*Sometime, perhaps in high summer, we might have enjoyed the vastness. On this cold, lonely morning, we felt smaller and more unwelcome than we've ever felt in our lives. Evergreens did not grow here; most trees were no more than barren branches. Ahead was a huge brown plain, arid, windy, and wholly uninviting.

'If the elfwitch sends her storms to rage here, nothing will hamper them until they reach the far side.'

Walther fixed on the vision of the elfwitch astride such a frenzied squall, and shuddered. She seemed unstoppable already.

The Novice followed Revered Mother's detailed instruc tions for tending the garden. As she dug in the rich soil and weeded out the unwanted plants, she found herself staring at leaves, petals, and stems trying to divine their ultimate use in poultices or tonic. Something tickled at a memory too distant to pull up. There were herbs hidden among the vegetables... Just like in that other garden,

common plants disguised f*******n twins. She let her fingers sift the soil, smelled the comfortable smell of another garden, another time, a younger child. The greenhouse was only a windowsill back then. It was not this greenhouse, but she was that child.

The sun beat through the panes and warmed her,

despite the cold and wind and snow. Here she was

protected, cared for. She had not been safe watching

over the other herbs.

She idly drew the shape of a dragon in the dirt. The beast seemed almost human, almost familiar. She stared and stared at the image before wiping the surface clean. Revered Novice wanted to smell the blooms. Blossoms

in deepwinter! How remarkable... and not possible in the old garden. The light or heat was wrong. She'd had to mix them with different plants that didn't work as well as her lady wished.

The lady who made her kiss a man, many men... A man! But that was impossible.

They always fell to the ground after. She'd killed someone! Had she been an assassin?

Revered Novice plucked the leaves from the plant and

sniffed.

No, that wasn't it. She'd straightened him out, checked for a pulse, and left him sleeping.

Only sleeping.

The Novice looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps.

Too heavy.