speciality," Burningstar said when order
returned. "Am I correct in thinking that a
royal prisoner automatically belongs to the
monarch?"
Several men spoke up in agreement, including
Valdor and even Kinwinkle, the former herald.
"Whistle for him right away!" the Duke
boomed. "Have him brought to Grandon posthaste.
Bird in the hand, what? A king ought to be worth a
king's ransom."
"Not in this case," said Grand Inquisitor.
"Granted he is rich beyond measure, he has
no close family to ransom him, while he
certainly has many rivals who would seek
to block such a move. And his person is of no
value, since kings of Baelmark are elected
by the moot. The moment his capture
becomes known, the earls will assemble to elect
another. After that he will be just another pirate."
"He may be willing to ransom himself,"
Chancellor Burningstar said. "I agree with the
Duke's suggestion that a troop of lancers be
dispatched to Lomouth to remove the royal prisoner
here. We should not give him time to buy his way out of
jail."
"Not unless he pays the rent to Her
Majesty!" Brinton said, much taken with his own
wit.
Malinda sprang to her feet in fury. "I
remind you, Cousin, that Radgar Aeleding murdered
my father and broke a formal treaty to do it. All
he will buy from me is a stroke of the headsman's
ax and for that I will not charge him one copper mite.
Constable? Go and get him!"
THE TRIAL, DAY THREE
"You killed him," the chairman rasped. "The
moment you heard that the King of Baelmark had been
taken prisoner, you dispatched a troop of lancers
posthaste to Lomouth with a royal warrant to seize
him and bring him back to Grandon. Is that not
correct?"
"Yes," Malinda said wearily. It had been
a hard day, the third of three hard days. Dusk
was settling on Grandon and its Bastion. Workers
must now be heading home to their families, wives
preparing the evening meal, footsore horses
munching oats in warm stalls. On the river
ships rode at anchor. In the Hall of
Banners flunkies were setting out candelabra so
the commissioners could see the witness and clerks
record proceedings.
The farce was almost over. She had almost ceased
to care. Her first brave illusion of something
approaching a fair trial had been as
ephemeral as a rainbow. With distortions, half
truths, browbeating, and his own lies, Horatio
Lambskin had served her up to his master like a
trussed calf. He had also intimidated the
commissioners until they had abandoned any
pretense of having authority. They asked no
questions now. She was obviously guilty and they would
vote as instructed.
"So, without even an attempt at a trial,
you struck off his head and stuck it on a spike.
You put your husband's head alongside
your brother's?"
Some faint remnant of the famous royal
temper stirred--"If Radgar was my husband,
then my claim to the throne was invalid, so why did
you pledge allegiance to me right here in this hall,
Master Lambskin?"
"The inquiry will take note that the witness
refused to answer."
"The answer is simple--I followed the
advice of my Privy Council, to which you
belonged. It was you who instructed us, Chancellor.
If we wanted to execute the King of
Baelmark, you said, we must do so quickly, before he
could be demoted."
"But did I not argue that so important a
prisoner should first be put to the Question, or at least
thoroughly interrogated?"
"I do not recall." She half expected the
inquisitor jailers standing alongside her to call
her a liar, but she spoke the truth and they
remained silent. "He had been thoroughly
interrogated, in Lomouth, before my men even reached
him. Interrogated most horribly! I did not
see him myself, but I was told that, as Lord of the
Fire Lands, he bore some sort of conjuration that
made him immune to fire. Flame would hurt
him but not burn him. He had already been tortured
out of his wits.
"Besides, I saw what the Question did to Lord
Roland and I vowed I would never treat any man
so, no matter how evil he was. Am I
charged with being too soft-hearted? The Council
agreed to Radgar Aeleding's execution and you were
present at the meeting." She could not remember which
way he had voted in the end, though. She
certainly remembered the Radgar she had met
briefly on the longship at Wetshore, and her
conviction then that he was not the monster of his
reputation. She remembered her revulsion at the
thought of turning such a man into a gibbering rabbit.
The chairman peered along the table, first left,
then right. "The honored commissioners may well
wonder whether the Bael's hasty execution was
designed to suppress his version of what exactly
passed between the two of them before her father was
assassinated. A transcript of the testimony
he gave in Lomouth will be placed before the
commissioners in due course."
"Testimony given under torture?" Malinda
shouted. "Or did you write it yourself this
morning?"
"The witness will speak only when addressed. But
let us by all means discuss Lord Roland, since
you mention him." The chairman bared yellow stumps
of teeth. "The traitor Roland. Now that one was
put to the Question, whereupon he confessed to treason against
the Council of Regency, the supreme authority
in the land. Before he could make a full and
detailed statement, your agents took over the
Bastion and you ordered the prisoner released from his
cell."
"I did. I still have nightmares about what you had
made of him. How do you manage to sleep at
all, Chancellor?"
"You ordered the prisoner moved to--"
"He was not a prisoner then."
"Be that as it may, that night he was murdered.
Who killed him?"
"I do not know." The Blades, of course, but
she did not know which.
"Who do you think killed him?"
"My suspicions are not evidence."
"The inquiry takes note that the witness
refuses to answer. Was he not murdered so he would
not testify to your part in his foul treason?"
"I do not know why he was killed."
"The witness is lying!" barked one of the guards
alongside, her chair.
"All right, he was murdered out of pity!
Murdered by one of his best friends--and I do not know
which--because your horrible conjurations had turned him
into--"
"Silence! The witness will speak only to answer
a question." The chairm
an sighed. "Radgar, Roland
--I am sure the honorable commissioners have noted
that witnesses to your crimes had very brief lives.
Now let us consider Pompifarth. You sent the
mercenary troops known as the Black--"
"You were at that meeting! You know how I fought to have
the terms of engagement restricted! You know--"
"If you persist in interrupting the court," the
chairman said hoarsely, "then I will have the guards
gag you and allow you to testify only by gestures.
Your seal was on the warrant by which those mercenary
brutes sacked Pompifarth. Those violent men
were ragged and hungry, yet you sent them to storm a
city you claimed to rule. The killing, rapine, and
looting were done in your name and by your authority."
"Is that a statement or a question? In either case
it is a lie. Souris was strictly
forbidden to enter any part of the city other than the
fortress that abuts it on the north. The
massacre was ordered by--"
The chairman nodded and a hard, rough-skinned hand
clapped over Malinda's mouth, banging her head
back against the wood of the chair. Other hands
grabbed her arms, immobilizing her.
"This is your last warning. The next time you
speak unbidden, you will be gagged and bound." The
chairman glanced to left and right. "At this hour
we usually adjourn for the day. Howsoever, I do
believe that we can wind up this tedious business
fairly rapidly now. May I suggest that the
honored commissioners take a brief break
to partake of some of Governor Churle's
splendid hospitality and then reassemble in about
an hour? At that time we can question the witness about the
last and perhaps most terrible of her crimes, the
murder she committed with her own already
blood-soaked hands."
We see most clearly out of the backs of our
heads.
FONATELLES
News of the Pompifarth disaster reached Grandon
early on the fourth of Tenthmoon. Malinda's
first notice of it came while her maids were
dressing her--Chancellor Burningstar was in the
anteroom, begging an audience at Her
Majesty's earliest convenience. She called for a
robe and the visitor and shooed the girls away.
Burningstar came hurrying in, her flustered
manner utterly out of character. She bobbed a small
curtsey at the door, came close, and then
lowered herself unsteadily all the way to her knees.
"Something is wrong," Malinda said, offering a
hand. "And that is not a good position for clear
thinking. Here, let me help you up."
"But I am tendering my resignation, Your
Majesty. I have failed most--"
"Your resignation is refused. Come and sit
here." Rejecting protests, she led the old
lady over to the chairs by the fire, and only when
they were both seated would she listen. "Bad news,
obviously." Was there any other kind?
Out it came: Pompifarth, sack, murder,
looting, mass rape ... Within minutes
Burningstar was close to tears, and the redness of her
eyes said she had wept hard and long already.
"Even the Baels are never that bad!" she
finished. "They leave the towns standing so the people can
generate more wealth to be looted the next time. This
was total destruction. I cannot continue as Your
Majesty's--"
"You will continue." Malinda felt no desire
to weep. She wanted to kill someone. "I think you
have been doing amazingly well, and you know I speak
the truth. Did I fall into the same pit as
Granville, trusting unpd mercenaries?
Souris has switched sides again, obviously.
Who put him up to this?"
"Fitzambrose himself, of course! The fake
call for an Anti-Parliament ... it was a
trap and I led you into it. His men opened the gates
for the killers, I'll swear! Look at the timing
--Parliament meets tomorrow and now everyone thinks you
made an example of the city."
Malinda sighed. "You are right, I fear.
Well, write the truth into my speech and let's
hope they believe me." She looked at the
Chancellor's careworn expression. "There is
more?"
A nod. "A letter from Prince Courtney. I
beg your pardon, my lady, but I forgot to bring
it. If I may send--"
"Just tell me. I think I can guess."
"He wants ... he demands that you marry
him, my lady. He wants the crown
matrimonial."
Malinda sat in silence for a while. It was a
month since Amby died. They had not given her
much of a chance to show how a queen would rule.
The next day, she addressed Parliament.
Although she had never met one before, Malinda had
enough experience in public speaking to recognize a
hostile audience. As she paraded after the
sergeants-at--arms with their maces and Blades with
drawn swords, down the aisle between the kneeling
Lords and Commons assembled, she could smell
hatred in the air. When she sat enthroned, with
Audley standing beside her holding Evening, she
looked out over an ocean of angry stares. The
Lords were splendid as kingfishers, robed in
scarlet and ermine, crowned with coronets--a real
crown was a horrible thing, and she was going to have a
ended--but in back of them the Commons were a flock
of drab sparrows, two knights from every shire and
two burgesses from every town.
She swore the enthronement oath again. The
ancient promises flew away like bats into the
sullen silence. She read her speech. No one
was rash enough to boo a monarch, but several times she
sensed a low rumble of disapproval--notably when
she mentioned her renewal of the campaign against
evil enchantment. Only her account of the capture
and execution of Radgar Aeleding won a cheer, but
everyone knew that Courtney deserved the credit.
They even knew that Courtney had been
industriously torturing the monster until the
Queen's men stole him away; they thought that a much
better idea than just chopping off his head.
Courtney was not present. Courtney had not
resisted when her Yeomen seized the captive
Baelish king, but his refusal to appear before the
Privy Council and now his absence from Parliament
were acts of rebellion. How could she denounce
him when chance had made him the greatest hero in the
land? She could condemn Neville, of course, and
did so. She laid the blame for the Pompifarth
massacre on him, but who believed her?
When she spoke at last of the crown's
desperate need for money, she thought she heard
knives being whetted, but perhaps it was only teeth
grinding. Parliament traditionally demanded
redress of its grievances before voting supply,
a
nd this Parliament was going to pile corpses at her
door--Granville, Pompifarth, the carnage
at Wetshore, Sycamore Square.
Parliaments impeached chancellors quite regularly,
but none had ever tried to depose the monarch. That
record might be about to change. Her Heir
Presumptive was the new national hero, Prince
Courtney.
Dog came to her that night as soon as Dian
had left, and their lovemaking was even more urgent and
passionate than usual. Either he took his cue
from her or he had worked out the situation for himself.
Later, in the lull after the storm, she broke the
news. "It is nearly over, love. We have very
few nights left."
He just grunted. He rarely spoke much, and
it was almost impossible to make him speak of bad
things.
"We always knew it could not last. We
have enjoyed much longer than I expected."
"I have brought shame upon you," he said
bitterly. "You heard what they were shouting at you in
the streets. They know you have a lover named Dog."
"Perhaps just coincidence," she said, but not believing
that. "Not the scandal ... Parliament will force me
to marry Courtney so it can make him King. No,
don't offer to kill him for me. I know you would if
I said please, but that would probably mean
Neville succeeding, so killing Courtney would
only make things worse."
"How can they force a queen?"
"By refusing me money." She sniffed away a
tear. "He's a lot older than I am.
I'll outlive him, I swear! I'll be older
then, and have some experience, and ... Oh, Dog!"
She started to wail, so he kissed her and went on
kissing her. It wasn't possible to kiss and
blubber at the same time. After that he would not let
her speak about the future at all.
The following morning Parliament set to work.
At first there was only angry talk, but soon
resolutions were being moved, bills read,
committees formed, petitions introduced, questions
asked. A motion declaring a female chancellor a
breach of parliamentary privilege was defeated, but
narrowly. The crown's appeal for supply was
ignored.
Day by day Burningstar's reports to the Queen
grew grimmer, until, at the end of a
turbulent week, the first bill cleared both
houses and arrived at the palace for the Queen's
signature. It was very brief and unambiguous,
and exactly what she had feared it would be.