I can spare. I hope some of you will write a
proper history of the Blades to replace the
archives lost in the destruction."
She stepped down and Dog offered his arm to lead
her out. The knights bent their knees to her as she
went by them, but no one could manage to raise a
cheer. After nearly four centuries, the Blades
were finished. Radgar Aeleding, once himself a
candidate in the Order, had destroyed it with a
single bolt. It was small consolation that his head
now adorned a spike in Grandon.
I will be your friend, the lion told the
antelope. The antelope replied, Then I shall
not fear my enemies.
FONATELLES
On the twentieth of Tenthmoon, Courtney's
army pitched camp on the outskirts of Grandon,
having marched from Ironhall without meeting
resistance. Grand Inquisitor reported that
Neville's forces were scattering and retreating
northward. Parliament had adjourned, with many
members hurrying away to join the triumphant
Prince, and most of the Privy Council had gone
with them. Even the Queen's ladies-in-waiting
had headed home to visit their families, just in
case.
The palace seemed deserted. As the sun was
setting, Malinda sat in her private withdrawing
room with Burningstar and Secretary Kinwinkle.
They were eating sweet cakes and sipping dry
mead. There was nothing more to be done.
"How early it is getting dark now," the
Chancellor remarked.
"Very symbolic," Malinda said. "Tell
me, both of you, what did I do wrong? If I
ever write my memoirs, what lessons should I
pass on to the next queen regnant, if there ever
is one?"
Burningstar displayed one of her grim little
smiles. "You first, Master Secretary."
Kinwinkle looked stricken at the thought of
criticizing a monarch, but he plunged bravely
ahead. "I think you did very little wrong, my
lady, nothing to be ashamed of. The dice were
loaded against you right from the start. Lord Granville
ruled badly and waited far too long to face
Parliament, so you inherited a bankrupt realm.
The manner of your father's death ... if you will
forgive me, there is still some lingering doubt about your
part in that. And the Blades' rampage alienated
everyone, so perhaps you should have disowned them instead of
supporting them." He stopped, watching nervously
to see how she reacted.
"Thank you." Disown the Blades after three
hundred years? Malinda looked to the
Chancellor, who sniffed.
"I blame your father. He should have either
named Lord Granville as his heir or left him
out entirely, certainly never made him Lord
Protector. Your claim was left foggy. It
was a miracle that you managed to win the throne at
all, Your Grace."
"And you are too kind to tell me I was too
kind to keep it?"
Burningstar took a sip of mead in ladylike
fashion. "Perhaps. You should certainly have left
Prince Courtney and Master Fitzambrose in
the Bastion until you had established your rule.
Your leniency was an error, although one that does you
credit. Apart from that, you made no real
mistakes. Your father certainly blundered more than that
in his youth, before he learned that kings must listen to their
councillors and take time to weigh their actions.
Courtney's capture of the Bael was a drastic
interference by the spirits of chance, against which no mortal
can stand. Without that, we might have Neville at the
gates instead of him."
That was no figure of speech; Malinda thought
she could hear cheering in the distance.
"I am too softhearted. I did not want
even Granville to die as he did. As one of
my Blades did ... and other men ... I did
not want to cause any man's death."
The Chancellor emptied her goblet in one
swallow and clinked it down on the table. "If I
may say so, Your Grace, you may still have time
to redeem your final mistake." Her eyes
do not wish to marry your cousin."
"I always found Courtney amusing, but as far as
being married to him ... I hope he still uses
love potions."
"With respect, my lady, I have met your
nephew only briefly, but he seemed a
pleasant enough young man, quite ordinary. He ought to be
a lot more malleable than your cousin. If you
really want my opinion, I still believe you should
have headed north to join him--yes, married him and
made him King Consort! That debauched butter
churn of a Courtney will be a hopeless disaster.
There is probably still time."
"Unlikely, I'd say." Malinda sighed.
The cheering was growing louder. "I have thought much on
this, these last few days. Neville seemed like a
strapping stripling, I grant you, but he thinks
I killed his father. He broke his oath to me.
If I flee to him, I shall be throwing
myself on his mercy and will end up a prisoner, not a
wife or co-ruler." She, too, drained her
goblet. "It would still cause civil war. I do not
want innocent people to die because of me!"
After a moment she added, "Love potions or
not, I can outlive Courtney."
The door swung open. Lady Burningstar and
Master Kinwinkle rose. Two burly
men-at-arms entered, Grand Inquisitor peered
over their heads, and then all three went out again.
Courtney came mincing in, resplendent in
gold and scarlet, the feather in his hat as long as
a scythe. He paused to consider Burningstar, who
was halfway to the door already. She offered him a
barely visible curtsey.
He pouted. "You should have stayed with the wimple,
darling. That neck is an eyesore. I'll
take the chain now." He held out a finely
manicured hand.
She straightened so she could look down at him
from as high as possible. "Her Majesty gave me
this chain and until Her Majesty--"
"Let him have it, Chancellor," Malinda said.
"He's spiteful. And thank you again for all you have
done."
Burningstar angrily lifted the golden chain
over her bonnet and relinquished it.
"If you are wise, lady, you will now return
to Oakendown and stay there." Courtney turned
away from her and frowned thoughtfully at Master
Kinwinkle, who wilted.
"Footman? Gardener? Night soil
attendant? No ... You were the herald who read
out Uncle's will so badly. Well, run along
and find something useful to do."
Dismissing them with a flick of his fingers,
Courtney pranced the rest of the way to Malinda,
bringing a powerful odor of cloves. The door
closed, leaving them alone.
"I di
d warn you, darling." He helped himself
to a chair and held the flask of mead up to the
light to see how much remained.
"You have still not sworn allegiance. I should not have
let you get away with that."
"No, you shouldn't." He filled Burningstar's
discarded goblet. "But you did. And now you are going
to be swearing wedding vows. I did warn you." He
sipped. "Mm? Too dry for my palate. We
are currently preparing a brief ceremony, at
which you will sign and seal a few simple
documents: our betrothal, a proclamation
announcing it and setting the date for our wedding, a
bill granting me the crown matrimonial--and
precedence--and letters patent appointing me regent
in the meantime with plenipotentiary powers to stamp out
the current unrest." Removing his hat
briefly, he looped the gold chain over his
head.
She did not bother to hide her contempt. His
face was freshly powdered, the rich red velvet of
his jerkin displayed not one speck of dust, and his
fingers glittered with gems. He smirked like a
satisfied child and took up his goblet again.
"Can't you at least say you are glad to see
me? Even relatively speaking? Would you rather have that
ghastly Fitzambrose boy sitting here? A
marriage knot is preferable to a hangman's.
He has sworn to post your head next to King
Radgar's."
"He's no threat now," she said. "He must be
scampering back over the Wylderland border about
now."
Courtney smirked. "Um ... no, darling.
You have been misinformed. He's south of
Pompifarth, heading this way. But I am advised
that we can meet him and wipe him out before he
disturbs the peace around here. That's assuming he
turns down my final offer, which he probably
won't--it's very generous. He will live in
luxury for the rest of his days, few though those will
undoubtedly be. Forget him, beloved, and think
only of our future together. Tomorrow we shall hold the
formal betrothal ceremony for the peers and
diplomatic corps and so on. Then I will go off
and deal with the Fitzambrose pest. You will stay here
to bake the wedding cake."
"You must be the only general in history to lead
his army in a coach and four."
He winced. "Dearest! You are not suggesting I
should ride a horse are you? I leave all the
nasty sweaty, smelly rough stuff to underlings.
Except for breeding heirs, of course. I'll
attend to that in person."
"And if I refuse this romantic proposal
you ply me with love potions as you did all those
other women?"
Courtney chuckled, laid down the goblet, and
rose to his feet. He came close, and she
instinctively leaned away from him. She had never
cared for cloves.
"Daaaarling!" he said, smiling down at
her. "Do you know the nicest part of having an army
at your back? You don't have to keep being nice
to people all the time! It did get to be wearing
sometimes. No, my love, no potions. Have you ever
heard of the Quiet Pool?"
Something unpleasant was coming. "No."
"Well, you know those elementaries your father
suppressed so energetically? All their books of
evil enchantments were supposed to be destroyed,
yes? Well, they weren't. Very few, in fact.
The College managed to get their palsied hands
on some, but the Dark Chamber collected most.
The Quiet Pool is a conjuration that used to be
especially popular with henpecked husbands and
bullied wives." He chuckled again, studying her
with bloodshot eyes.
"You wouldn't dare!" she said, her mouth suddenly
dry with fear.
Grinning inanely, he nodded and chucked her under
the chin. "Oh, yes I would, kitten! Let's
settle it right now. Which is it to be? Will you be a
good, obedient, and passionate wife, or do I have
Grand Inquisitor turn you into royal jelly?"
"He wouldn't dare!"
"No? He drools at the thought. You really
should not have struck him that night in the Bastion, my
sweet. He even dreams of being Chancellor--
we'll let him dream a little longer. Now,
beloved, will you marry me?"
That it had come to this! She wondered how bad
Radgar Aeleding would have been, really.
"Yes, I will marry you. I have no choice."
"With passion and babies and all the
naked-body-in-bed stuff?"
"I will provide the body, as required.
You'll have to supply the passion."
He lifted her hand and kissed it. "Tonight,
beloved, I will test your commitment. Until then,
keep me in your heart."
She had always suspected that Courtney's
cynical mask hid a wounded, sensitive soul.
Now she knew that the inside was much nastier than the
outside.
He paused on his way to the door. "I'll have
you fetched when we're ready for the signing
ceremony. Meanwhile, stay here, out of trouble."
THE TRIAL, DAY THREE
(Concluded)
The Governor's hospitality must have been
even more splendid than the chairman had
predicted, because Malinda was left to her own
devices for several hours. She paced her cell
frantically, planning what she would say in her
defense. "I know he's vindictive," she
told Winter, "but even Horatio Lambskin will
have to allow me a chance to speak. He must!
Briefly, maybe, but he must let me make a
statement and have an inquisitor tell them I am
speaking the truth. Even in treason trials, they
all get that grace. So what do I deny first?"
Winter did not answer. Nor did
Horatio, and poor little Moment down on the
floor had been washed away by the fish soup
Malinda had dropped two days ago, or had
fled from it. Malinda had looked everywhere for her.
Eventually she realized that she was staggering with
exhaustion, weakened by the ordeal of the last three
days on top of the months of physical and mental
inaction. She fumbled in the dark to find her chair
and flopped down on it. She had waited too
long. It seemed only a few minutes before a
chink of light crept in under the door, the lock
clattered, hinges creaked. In came Nightmare,
holding a lantern. Pestilence followed her and
headed straight to Malinda, reaching for her,
one-handed. Malinda leaped up and backed away,
but there was nowhere to go. She was slammed back against
the masonry with fingers at her throat choking her.
A fist pounded into her chest--once, twice.
She croaked, trying to protest. Her head was
ground against the stonework. She knew better now
than to struggle or fight back. That brought much
worse hurt and humiliation.
"This is a warning," Pestilence snarled. Her
breath was rank. "Tonight you behave yourself, or tomorrow
we put the men to work on you. You think this hurts?"
A foot stamped on her instep. Malinda
squealed.
"That was nothing, nothing at all. Now go!" The
jailer hurled her across the room in the general
direction of the door.
Obediently, the prisoner limped down the
gloomy, twisted stairs, with Pestilence and
Nightmare and the lantern at her back, giant
shadows swimming on the stonework ahead.
At the bottom the usual squad of men-at-arms
waited to escort her along tunnel-like
corridors, back to Great Hall and her
solitary chair in the center.
Two of the commissioners already had their heads on the
table. Another three arrived late, weaving along
the walls in efforts to make inconspicuous
entrances. Several of the foreign observers came with
them, in a similar unsteady state.
"The inquiry will come to order," the chairman
said, folding his snaky hands. He frowned to right and
left, until the sleeping commissioners had been
prodded awake by their neighbors. "We must now
consider the last and perhaps the most despicable of this
woman's crimes. She will describe to the
honorable commissioners her actions on the night of the
twentieth of Tenthmoon."
Malinda gathered her wits for the battle. "I
went to bed. I had instructed my ladies not
to open the outer door of the suite to anyone or for
any reason short of the palace being on fire.
I bolted myself in, lay down, and went
to sleep."
"There were how many doors to your chamber?"
She was not going to let Dog be dragged into this.
She had sent him away days before, and by that night
he should have already been safe in Ness Royal.
She hoped desperately that he was still safe, not
caught up in the web of the Usurper's vengeance.
"Officially one. There was also a secret door
known only to me, the sovereign, and senior
members of my Royal Guard. The Guard had
by then been disbanded and--"
"A secret door to a lady's bedchamber would
be for purposes of illicit fornication?"
"If you say so, Chancellor. It dates from
long before my time."
"But you had a lover who used it?"
Malinda stayed silent. She was not going
to implicate Dog in this, no matter what. She
had nightmares of him already chained up in a
dungeon, tortured or mutilated. They might
even try to shock her into some dangerous admission