Winds of Fury Page 21

  The double doors at the end of the hall were thrown open just as they reached them, and a fanfare of trumpets announced them to the expectantly-hushed Court.

  And it was an announcement of the full complement, as Elspeth had hoped. It included Firesong and Darkwind, as “Ambassadors of the Tayledras;” Nyara as “Lady Nyara k’Sheyna,” leaving the assembled courtiers and power brokers to wonder, no doubt, just what a “k’Sheyna” was; and the gryphons as “Lord Treyvan Gryphon and Lady Hydona and children, ambassadors of Kaled’a’in,” leaving the courtiers of Valdemar even more baffled. Poor Rris; he was not announced, although he trotted at the heels of the gryphlets. But he did not seem disappointed as Elspeth glanced back. He was simply watching everything with that alert expression that told her he was storing it all up, to become yet another tale in the kyrees’ oral history. The dyheli had been taken off with Gwena and Cymry, but he had never shown much interest in being an envoy anyway; he had made it rather clear to Elspeth that he was there mostly to show to Valdemar that there were other intelligent races allied with the Tayledras than just humans and gryphons.

  She paused on the threshold, giving the others a chance to compose themselves before striding into the room full of strangers. The room fell silent, and with a whispering rustle of cloth and a creaking of leather, everybody in the room except the four on the dais bent in a bow or curtsy. She paused for another moment, then moved forward, and behind her she heard the same swish of cloth and creaking of leather; the members of Court and Council rising as she passed. Her own eyes were fastened on her mother and stepfather, both in Whites with the royal circlets about their brows, both standing before their thrones, with Heralds flanking them on either hand, and Guards behind the Heralds. One of those Heralds was Kerowyn, who winked broadly as soon as Elspeth was near enough to see her face; the other was Jeri, Alberich’s hand-picked successor. The Guards behind both of them were from Kero’s Skybolts. Elspeth relaxed at the sight of all these old friends. They would understand what she was about to do, even if her mother didn’t.

  Selenay’s gold hair was clearly streaked with silver; Prince Daren showed more worry lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. Both of them widened their eyes and frankly stared for a moment at Elspeth before recovering their “royal masks”—she chuckled under her breath, for she was wearing one of her more elaborate sets of hertasi-made working-Whites, and while she was clearly garbed as a Herald, it was not a Herald as Valdemar at large was used to seeing one. She could hardly wait until they got a good look at Firesong, who had chosen to contrast his silver hair and the silver plumage of his firebird with Tayledras mage-robes in a startling shade of blue that could never be mistaken for Guard Blue. In fact, she was not entirely certain how the hertasi had achieved that eye-blinding color. It certainly was nowhere to be found in nature!

  The wood-paneled Throne Room was filled to bursting, with every available light-source fully utilized. If the crowds outside had been dazzling, this crowd was dizzying, each courtier in full dress, with as many jewels as possible within the bounds of taste. And some, predictably, had gone beyond the bounds of taste. The place was ablaze with color and light—

  :And all of it pales next to Firesong’s self image,: Gwena commented in the back of her mind. Elspeth stifled a chuckle and kept her face perfectly sober.

  She smiled broadly as she neared the throne, but submitted demurely to an “official” greeting, as Selenay announced to the room that her beloved daughter and Heir had returned, and made all the appropriate official motions. Even though she longed to fling her arms around her mother as she had around Talia, that would have to wait until they were in private together.

  And by then—

  She bowed briefly to her mother, then straightened, and took the steps necessary to place her on the dais in her position as Heir. She turned to face the silent Court, and looked out over the faces of new friends, old, and utter strangers. Firesong winked; so did Treyvan. Nyara managed a tremulous smile. Darkwind simply held her eyes for a long breath.

  :Hold onto your feathers, my love, : she Mindsent to Darkwind as she took a deep breath of her own. :I have a surprise for you.:

  “Thank you, all of you, for your wonderful greetings,” she said, carefully pronouncing and projecting each word as she had been taught since she was a child, so that every syllable would reach the back of the room. “I have returned, as I promised, with the help that I went to find—and with more, far more. But with your indulgence, I would like to make an announcement before I introduce our new allies and friends. I, Elspeth, daughter of Queen Selenay and Heir to the throne of Valdemar, hereby renounce my claim to the throne of Valdemar, in favor of my siblings, the Princess Lyra and Prince Kris.”

  A chorus of whispered comments and oaths came from the courtiers and Guard alike.

  “I have been reliably informed by the Companions that both will be Chosen, and thus both are equally suited to the position of Heir to the Throne of Valdemar—as I am not.”

  The expressions on the faces nearest her—those not in her own party, that is—were so funny she almost burst out laughing. They were utterly, completely stunned; and she had the feeling that her own mother and stepfather wore identical expressions. It looked almost as if someone had run through the crowd, hitting everyone in the back of the head with a board. They could not have been more startled if she had suddenly sprouted wings and horns.

  Quickly, before anyone could interrupt, she enumerated her reasons. “As all well know, my blood-father was a traitor and a would-be assassin, and all my life his crimes have hung over my head, clouding confidence in my trustworthiness and ability to rule. With Lyra and Kris there will be no such doubts. I have heard, before I left and as I returned, the same rumors that many of you had heard both before and during my absence—that I was in reality using that absence to plot against my beloved mother. With Lyra and Kris in the position of Heir, no one need worry when I am absent that I may be thinking of taking the throne before my rightful time. The same rumors have always existed outside this Kingdom as well— and once again, when I no longer hold the position of Heir, the fears that I will attempt to usurp the rule of Valdemar as Ancar of Hardorn usurped his father’s throne will be laid to rest. I am not Ancar—and now, no one will ever need to wonder if I could be tempted by the promise of power into following his wretched example.”

  There, she thought. Let them think about that, and when they think about it, wonder if those rumors just might have originated with Ancar, since he is so familiar with usurping thrones.

  “But there are additional considerations.” she continued quickly, and then surrounded herself in the blink of an eye with a showy glow of magic fires that made everyone gasp and step back a pace. Firesong was grinning and nodding with approval; Darkwind just stared at her, but his mouth was twitching suspiciously. “As you can see,” she went on, in ringing, magic-enhanced tones, “I am the first of the new Herald-Mages of Valdemar! I am the first and only trained Herald-Mage at this moment. There will be others, I promise you, for one of the reasons that I have brought these new allies is to help in the training of new Herald-Mages. And while that is a cause for rejoicing, it is also a cause for concern, for as the sole trained Herald-Mage and the Heir, my loyalties and duties are at terrible odds with one another. As Herald-Mage, I must risk myself and my powers in defense of this Kingdom. As Heir, I must not, ever, place myself in jeopardy! I have been forced to weigh good against good, duty against duty, and I have concluded that my duty to Valdemar is best served by renouncing the throne and taking my place in the front lines of whatever conflict may come. Valdemar needs my skills and strength far more than it needs me beneath the Heir’s coronet.”

  Now she turned, to see her stepfather beaming with approval, and her mother doing a creditable imitation of a landed fish. Controlling herself carefully, she concluded her speech.

  “Therefore, I ask you—you of the Council and Court, and you, Queen and Consort—
to accept my abdication and allow me to take my proper place as one Herald among many. I will always be my mother’s true daughter, but I no longer wish to be a cause of worry and conflict. And I wish to place my abilities, my life, and my honor fully in the service of my land and people.” She looked pleadingly into her mother’s eyes. “Will you say me ‘aye’?”

  Selenay never had a chance to respond, for Prince Daren led the Council and Court in a thundering acceptance of her audacious solution.

  It was all over. With weary feet, Elspeth took service corridors rather than the main halls of the Palace. Servants ignored her as just another Herald, although a few stopped to stare at her unique Whites, and one young man paused long enough to whisper, “Herald, that is a fine set of Whites!”

  She smiled at him and winked. From the look of him, he had a fine sense of fashion himself. Someone had clearly taken a creative hand to his servants’ livery. He winked back and hurried on.

  But on the whole, Elspeth felt rather as if she had been run through a clothes-wringer in the Palace laundry and hung out to dry. Even after her abdication was a fact, there had still been a hundred things to deal with.

  The introduction of the rest of the party, for instance, and the explanations of what, exactly, their positions were, and what they brought to Valdemar’s defense. Selenay, still stunned from the abdication, had been taken quite a bit aback by the gryphons, until Hydona had said, quietly, in quite creditable Valdemaran, “I underssstand herrr Majesssty isss the motherrr of twinssss?” and at Selenay’s nod had uttered a long-suffering sigh and continued, “Then we have a grrreat deal in common.”

  And since Lytha had chosen that particular moment to bite Jerven’s tail, causing him to squall, and Hydona to reach back absentmindedly and separate them both, Selenay had come out of her stunned trance immediately and graced Hydona with a smile that united them at once in a bond of mother-to-mother. Talia had covered her mouth, hiding a grin. So had Elspeth. No one would ever be able to convince Selenay now that the gryphons were “dangerous animals.”

  Firesong had quite dazzled the Court; he seemed born to manipulate crowds. And by the time Court had been formally ended, he had collected a little court of his own, both he and his firebird posing and preening quite shamelessly. Darkwind went almost unnoticed, and so did Nyara.

  Which had probably been Firesong’s intent, or at least one of his intentions.

  Then there had been the joyful task of greeting all of her old friends, and explaining to them all that she had thought this through very carefully, and yes, it was the best solution to the situation. “Ancar has been focusing on me as a target, one that he knows,” she had continued. “He doesn’t know anything about the twins, and they’re children, much easier to guard day-and-night because they have no duties. Mother could even send them off into hiding if she had to.”

  Of all of them, Kero had understood the best, Kero and her stepfather. But eventually all of them accepted it.

  She had made a point of not introducing Darkwind specifically. There was no reason to start up rumors yet, not until after she dealt with Selenay.

  Then had come the dreaded confrontation with her mother.

  Which turned out not to be a confrontation at all.

  She still couldn’t quite believe it. At some point during her absence, Selenay had come to accept the fact that Elspeth was grown up now, and capable of making her own decisions. “You will always be my darling daughter,” she had said, after a long and tear-filled embrace, “but you are also a wise woman, wiser and braver than I am. You have seen the best solution to your divided duties. And while I shall hate seeing you go into danger, I can’t deny you your right to do so.”

  That had brought out another freshet of tears from both of them, until Selenay was called to a meeting of the Council. Elspeth, no longer Heir and so no longer required to attend, had gone off to her new quarters.

  The rooms were the ones assigned to important and high-ranking guests. She had asked to be installed next to Darkwind, in rooms with a connecting door. She hadn’t spent all of her childhood running about the Palace without learning the layout of the place. She had made very sure that she knew exactly where each and every member of her group had been housed. The Seneschal had given her a startled look that turned to a knowing one, and nodded once.

  And now she no longer had to worry about what people thought. It didn’t matter anymore. She was not the Heir; her liaisons were no one’s business but her own.

  The feeling of freedom was as heady as a draught of strong wine.

  She opened the door, and closed it behind her, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light filtering in through the closed curtains. This should be—yes, was—a suite of two rooms, a public room and a bedroom. She pushed away from the door and sought the latter.

  There was a basin and pitcher of water on a washstand in her bedroom; once again she had a twinge of nostalgia for the Vale, but this would have to serve until she could get to the shared bathing room. She splashed some water on her face to wash away the marks of tears, brushed out her hair, and then went back into the sitting room and tapped on the door dividing her rooms from Darkwind’s.

  He opened it, clearly startled that there was anyone seeking entrance, and clearly not expecting her. She took advantage of his startlement by flinging herself at him, and within a heartbeat he had recovered quite enough to return her embrace. It was just as heartfelt and passionate as she had hoped, and he left his mind open to her completely, leaving her no doubt whatsoever of how he truly felt. Profound gratitude and relief, a touch of guilt that despite her speech she might have done this only for him, and love and pride.

  She was the first to break off the kiss, reluctantly; but he was the first to speak.

  “You were magnificent,” he said fervently in his own tongue. “Absolutely magnificent. You made me so proud!”

  “Good,” she replied, taking his hand and pulling him into her room. “Now, let’s get to the serious business, before we do or say anything else.”

  He nodded quickly, following her inside, and closing the connecting door as he did so. “Of course—you are right, we must make war plans, dealing with this Ancar, and how we can identify and train the new mages—”

  “No,” she told him, laying a finger on his lips to stop the flow of words. “That’s serious, but there’s something else that needs settling first. You—and me.”

  He blinked at her a moment, taken quite by surprise. “Ah—I’m not sure—exactly what—” He blinked for a moment more, then let out his breath as if he had been holding it for days. “You and I. Well. Perhaps the first thing we should do is sit down.”

  She laughed a little. “Good idea.”

  The rooms that adjoined one another were deliberately designed so that ambassadors could hold informal court. His would be the mirror image of hers, with a fireplace in the wall the two rooms shared, a desk, several chairs, and a small couch where someone who was ailing or infirm (as many senior diplomats were) could recline at his ease. He led the way to the couch, and she sat down beside him. The light from outside was beginning to fade, but no servant would dare venture in here to light candles until they were called for, which was exactly how she had ordered it. They would be undisturbed until she wished otherwise, for the first time in her life.

  “I need to know something right now,” she said, as he visibly searched for words to begin the conversation. “What are your long-term intentions and plans? As regards us, our relationship, that is.”

  He swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I’m taking this all very well, am I not?” he replied, with a weak grin. “Actually, you flung a rock into what had been a quiet and ordered pond. I was going to keep myself strictly in the background. I had intended to suborn myself to your needs and wishes, and keep everything so discreet that no one would ever guess what was going on. Firesong and I had even planned on creating the fiction that he and I were shay’kreth’ashke, just to throw anyone off the scent.
After all, we’d already convinced Shion of that. But now—I suppose I don’t need to.”

  “No, you don’t,” she replied, then grinned. “In fact, I’d rather like it if you were as blatant as possible. The more ineligible I make myself for the throne, the better. Although I know there is going to be at least one person who would prefer the original plan. Poor Firesong is going to be terribly disappointed!” She gave him an arch look. “After all, it was your hair that he wanted to braid feathers into!”

  He stared at her a moment longer, then broke into laughter that came within a hair of hysteria but never quite crossed the line. She smiled but didn’t join him this time. Her neck and stomach were taut with tension, for he still hadn’t answered her question. There was something in her pocket that was burning a fiery hole in her heart.

  Finally he calmed, and wiped his eyes. “Well,” he said at last, “my intentions are honorable, at least. I should like very much, Elspeth k’Sheyna k’Valdemar, if you would accept a feather from my bondbird.”

  “I hope you have a spare,” she replied, with a chuckle born of intense relief and a desire to shout with joy. “I would like very much to accept, but Vree will never forgive me if you run back into your room and pluck him.”

  But to her surprise, he reached into an inner pocket in the breast of his clothing and brought out a forestgyre primary—one with a shaft covered in beadwork of tiny crystals hardly bigger than grains of sand. It had a hair-tie of a silver clasp with two matching silver chains ending in azure crystals.