Queen's Hunt Part 32

"Then who did kill the king?" Valara asked.

He shrugged. "Leos was not without enemies, but most of those belonged to minor factions within the court. Outside of Karovi is another matter. Immatra in particular would like to expand its territory. If our kingdom fell into confusion, they would have an opportunity to claim and hold our northern coastline."

It seemed too simple an explanation. Apparently Ilse thought the same because she said, "Would your councillors believe that? And what if they believed you too well? It does Karovi no good to avoid war with Morenniou, only to provoke war with another kingdom."

An excellent question, Valara thought, and one that clearly discomfited Miro Karasek, because he glanced away uneasily. "I think ... we cannot avoid war. But to answer your question, the most I can do is distract them for a time. I erased your signatures before I followed you. And matters are rather confused in the palace."

She took in the unspoken implications. He cannot deceive them forever. Which means they will someday discover his part.

Now it was her turn to be discomfited, but she refused to dwell on that. "What about us?" she said. "What do we do next?"

His mouth quirked into a humorless smile, as if he guessed her thoughts. "First we prepare the ground here, in case Markov sends his trackers north. I shall lay down signs for a second camp farther south, and trails leading east to the coast. You have the simplest task. You go home."

She was vividly aware of two things in that moment-the sudden change in Ilse Zhalina's expression and her own sense of balance utterly overturned. They were of the same root and branch, she thought, struggling to keep her face under control. We have both lost a great deal. She has lost her Lord Kosenmark. I have lost my magic. Is that too great a sacrifice? The G.o.ds do not think so.

The idea of the G.o.ds caring struck her as absurd. She smothered a laugh, caught the startled look from both her companions, and shook her head. "I am sorry. But I cannot trust the roads through Autrevelye. I must find another pa.s.sage home."

It was the most transparent lie she had ever offered to anyone. She held her breath, expecting Karasek to protest, Ilse to point her sword at Valara's throat and demand the truth. But no. To her astonishment, both seemed to accept this outrageous explanation.

They would, neither of them, last a week in Morenniou's court.

No, that was not fair. Ilse's gaze had turned inward, as if other problems claimed her attention. And Karasek's eyes narrowed in a different kind of calculation.

"I know what to do," he said after a moment. "You will head west and south. Once I've reported back to my colleagues, I can rejoin you. I can-" He paused, and in a somewhat less natural voice said, "If you agree, I can escort you to Taboresk, where my holdings are. Then to a port city, where s.h.i.+ps can be hired for longer voyages."

Her heart beat faster. Home. He was offering her a pa.s.sage home. Another inexplicable gift. "Are you making atonement?"

"As you did?" he asked.

A pointed observation. Yes, they had each done the other harm. He, by leading an invasion against her kingdom. She had betrayed her brother and her homeland-Karasek's homeland-more than once throughout history. If she examined her life dreams honestly, she suspected she would find more instances of her perfidy.

"We are none of us perfect," she murmured.

"Like children whose tongues stumble before they learn to speak," Ilse said softly. "So we, the children of Lir and Toc, stumble and fall, from life to life, until our minds and hearts and souls learn to speak with wisdom."

An old, old quote from a poetess long dead, one even Valara knew from her early days in the schoolroom. She has spent too many lives evading her true love. And now, for this life, it is too late.

Karasek could not know about Raul Kosenmark, but he seemed to have caught the essential meaning. "We were children once. We are no longer. Peace, then," he said. "Between all our kingdoms."

As if his words released them, they all stood and set to work. Karasek had brought ample supplies. He and Ilse had gathered more dried peat while Valara slept, and had cooked a meal of dried fish and oats-plain but hot and filling.

They ate with good speed, then worked together to divide Karasek's gear into two heaps. Most went into a pack he designated for them; the rest went back into his remaining saddlebags. Under his direction, they buried their garbage and covered the campfire with loose dirt, stamped the dirt into smoothness, and scattered more dirt and gravel over that. Karasek paced around, inspecting the site. As he did so, he murmured the words in Erythandran to erase all traces of their presence from the past.

"Will that suffice?" Ilse said.

"If my other plans succeed, it won't have to," he answered. To her questioning look, he said, "I'll fabricate a larger camp farther south, and lay down trails from there to the eastern coast to mislead any trackers, before I circle back to Rastov. You two should head southwest toward the mountains. Here is the route you must take."

He outlined the landmarks they should watch for: the village called Kamenmost, with six houses and a sizable goat pen, where they should turn due south; the stream, almost a ditch, that they should follow; and the stone outcropping that marked the wooded ridge where they should make camp. He makes a good general, Valara thought, as she took in these precise and ordered details. Even of such a small army.

"The country's wild," he said. "You won't meet up with any cities or towns, and very few farms, but I would caution you not to use any magic, and to keep a constant watch."

I have no magic, Valara thought. Again pain lanced through her. It was as though the G.o.ds had scooped out her vital organs, leaving nothing but a void. She drew a long breath to calm her nerves. It was not a subject she wished to discuss with either Karasek or Ilse Zhalina. Not today.

She had no need to just yet, because Ilse had taken over the conversation. "When should we look for you?" she said.

Another interval where he calculated plans and counter plans. "Ten days," he said at last. "Whoever arrives first waits for the other-but no longer than three days. Longer than that, and you must consider me lost."

Lost. Almost the same words she had used to Ilse Zhalina the day before. Valara suppressed a shudder, not needing further explanation. They had left several other important subjects untouched. No questions about Markov's spies, nor what Valara and Ilse might do if the other councillors doubted Karasek's story.

"So we have another parting," she said.

Karasek gave a brief smile. "We've had several."

He mounted and offered Valara a salute. Valara returned the gesture. A soldier and a leader. What might have happened if he had come to Morenniou in peace?

With a pang, she dismissed that thought. She could not alter the past, only the future.

"Farewell," she said.

"Until ten days," Karasek replied, then wheeled his horse around and set off toward the coast. Ilse hoisted their pack over her shoulder, but Valara lingered, still watching Karasek.

"Will he make it?" Ilse asked.

"He will."

She spoke more in hope than certainty.

Ilse offered no reply. She turned to go, but Valara continued to watch, one hand shading her eyes, as Karasek's figure dwindled in size. He had not looked back since his departure, but in her mind's eye, she saw him as he had appeared in Autrevelye, one hand raised in farewell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

THE JOURNEY HOME from the Jelyndak Islands took all the latter weeks in spring and well into summer.

They could not sail directly into Tiralien's harbor, of course. The s.h.i.+p was too well known among the port officials, and after Gerek's escape, Markus Khandarr or his agents would keep a vigilant watch in all the coastal cities.

So they returned in twos and threes, each group taking a different route.

That same day, Gervas sailed with the launch's pilot back to the mainland, taking with him the casks with Detlef 's and Katje's ashes. Gervas also had a letter for Theo, addressed via Baron Eckard, to bring him home from the Kranj Islands. The rest spent another day removing their belongings to the s.h.i.+p and erasing all signs of the battle and their presence on Hallau. Gerek worked alongside the others, sweating in silence under the glaring sun of late spring. He disliked the empty city. He found the island itself unsettling, with its rocky ground swept clear by magic of gra.s.s and trees. When at last he boarded the launch to return to the s.h.i.+p, he stared east and over the ocean, rather than take one last glimpse of that miserable dark place.

They waited only on the next tide before the s.h.i.+p's crew raised anchor. Then, with evening shadows falling over the horizon, they set sail for the open seas, taking a great arcing path to the south outside the coastal patrols. For weeks their horizon was of water alone, the great rolling swells and the s.h.i.+mmering sky above. Osterling appeared as a cl.u.s.ter of lights to the north. Gerek knew only because one of the s.h.i.+p's crew told him.

Around the point and northwest. Two guards and Alesso Valturri landed in a remote section of coast on the far side of the peninsula. Three more in Pommersien, where they would hire on with a caravan heading northeast. Gerek Hessler thought the s.h.i.+p might continue onward to Valentain, but after a few days to take in water and new provisions, the s.h.i.+p circled around to the east once more.

Someday, Gerek thought, as he leaned over the railing and watched the waves curling away from the s.h.i.+p's sides. I shall return on my own. I shall leave my office and my books, and walk through these kingdoms I've only read about.

Lord Kosenmark had not spoken with Gerek since that first night. He locked himself in his cabin and relayed his orders through Ada Geiss, now the senior guard for the expedition. Late at night he walked the decks, but alone and silent. On those few encounters when his path did cross Gerek's, he was unfailingly polite. But his manner was distracted and remote, the air of a man eternally preoccupied with faraway matters.

She was there, Ada had told him. Nothing of a break between them. It was all lies, I think, what came before. Politics or whatever they call it. Zhalina had disappeared in the middle of battle, in a magical cloud, according to Ada, and had chased the Morenniouen queen into the nothing. Neither woman had returned, nor the Karovin officer who had pursued them. If Gerek had not arrived with the s.h.i.+p, Kosenmark would be on that island still, waiting for her.

From his single conversation with Kosenmark, Gerek knew better than to believe the last remark, but he listened in attentive silence as Ada spoke about the battle and the days following. How the Karovin had sent their own healer to tend all the wounded. They had worked alongside the Veraenen to bury or immolate the dead.

They were good to us, like comrades, Ada said. It would be a shame if we had to fight them in war.

War. It hovered like thunderclouds on the horizon. Perhaps that was the reason for their long, long journey. Kosenmark did not sail without purpose, as some of the guards believed. No, he sent his people to wander, so they might report what the ordinary folks, in cities, towns, and around the countryside, said about Armand of Angersee and his war, and to confirm the rumors of factions and bickering in Duenne's Court. Sitting alone in his cabin, Gerek could foresee two very different courses for Kosenmark and the kingdom.

They are inextricably entwined, after all.

The thought gave him no comfort.

On a dark, moonless night, off the coast between Fuldah and Konstanzien, their s.h.i.+p met a smaller s.h.i.+p-a cutter that had the air of a smuggler. Signals were exchanged by lantern s.h.i.+ne. Satisfied, the s.h.i.+p's master sent word to Lord Kosenmark. Soon Kosenmark, Ada, and Gerek had crossed over to the new s.h.i.+p and climbed aboard.

They reached sh.o.r.e two days later, landing on a lonely spit of land where Gervas waited with four st.u.r.dy horses and a string of mules bearing packs. With the proper clothes, they transformed themselves into a company of merchants and started on the final segment of their journey home.

It was late in the evening of a mid-summer's day, two months since Gerek Hessler inadvertently left, when the four arrived at the stables behind Lord Kosenmark's grounds. A storm had just pa.s.sed, the sky overhead was streaked with clouds, and a thick mist hung in the air, burning bright in the dark red glow of sunset.

Gervas and Ada dismounted first. Gerek stifled a groan as he clambered down from his horse. His body ached from scalp to toe. The horse blew a rattling breath, and swung its head around. Gerek rubbed its nose.

"Shall we wait for nightfall, my lord?" Ada asked.

Kosenmark still sat on his horse. He started, as if recalled from a distant dream. "No," he said. "If we have watchers, they already know we've arrived."

Ada and Gervas collected the gear and headed toward the house. Gerek waited, uncertain. Kosenmark had made no move to dismount. Finally the man glanced down. He smiled, the first Gerek had seen since ...

... since almost never.

"Go," Kosenmark said softly. "And thank you, Gerek."

Wordlessly, Gerek handed over his reins to a stable hand. His muscles cried out with every step, but he trudged between the sheds and low buildings, to the wide swath of green outside the gates. Three guards stood at watch. They admitted him without challenge or greeting, for which he was grateful.

He pa.s.sed through the gates into the wild lower gardens. A hush lay over the grounds, a sweet soft quiet of twilight. It was like the pause between one breath and the next, Gerek thought. Between the invocation of magic and its presence. He paused in the middle gardens and breathed in the ripe scent of roses and lilies, the crushed gra.s.s beneath his feet. From the house came a rill of incense floating through the air.

Inside that house waited his duties, regular and dull.

(Though not so dull as he had first expected.).

Somewhere, in the kitchen no doubt, Kathe and her mother supervised the preparations for the evening. He had not allowed himself to think of Kathe since landing on Hallau Island.

I must talk with her later. Tomorrow. She will grant me that much, I think.

He followed the lane down the side of the house, slipped past the kitchens, bright and busy with noise, and entered by another door. This wing of the house proved deserted, but from a distance he heard the echo of conversation and music. Nadine's voice rose in a laughing exclamation, answered by Eduard and another man's voice. Gerek paused and smiled painfully, thinking of his own first encounter with Nadine. A stranger would see only the glittering exterior of the house. They would not perceive the secret corridors, the sudden trips and traps, the shadows underneath.

Was he sorry he came here?

No. He had done good work, if not the work he had expected.

He turned into the stairwell and climbed to the floor where he had his rooms. As he rounded the corner from the landing, he saw a figure standing far off. A woman, whose height and form were familiar to him, even in the shadows. She turned, and the light from a lamp fell across her face.

Kathe.

Gerek's heart gave a painful leap. He took three swift steps toward her before doubt stopped him. But Kathe was already running toward him. She took his hands in a fierce grip. Gerek could not trust himself to speak. He could only take in her presence, the warmth and strength of her hands, the brightness of her eyes as she stared back at him with a wondering gaze that called up all manner of hope.

"You're not in the kitchen," he said at last.

A fluid sentence that made no sense, and yet said everything he wished. Kathe laughed as if she understood him completely. "No, I'm not in the kitchen. Why should I be?"

There were tears beneath that laughter. He drew her closer. "Kathe, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. At least-I hope nothing. I heard you had come. Ada sent word throughout the house. And so I came to say- If you would still like an answer to your question. The one you asked before. And I can't see why you would. But I have one." She stopped and met his gaze directly, her cheeks flushed with embarra.s.sment. She drew a long breath and said, almost steadily, "If you would still like an answer to your question, my answer is yes."

Yes. She said yes.

All the weariness and doubts tumbled away from him. He was grinning, and saw that foolish grin mirrored in Kathe's face. For a moment, the briefest sorrow overtook his delight-it was not fair that he should have such joy when Lord Kosenmark had none-but just as quickly, he forgot Kosenmark and the rest of the world in the amazement of his own great happiness.

"Do you still want that answer?" Kathe whispered.

Gerek lifted a hand to her cheek. "Oh, yes. Yes, I do."

TOR BOOKS BY BETH BERn.o.b.i.+.c.h.

Pa.s.sion Play.

Queen's Hunt.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Queen's Hunt is the second t.i.tle in Beth Bern.o.b.i.+.c.h's epic River of Souls series. The first novel, Pa.s.sion Play, earned her a coveted Romantic Times Book Award for Best Epic Fantasy in 2010. Her short fiction has been published in Asimov's, Interzone, Postscripts, Strange Horizons, and s.e.x in the System, with two pieces-"A Flight of Numbers Fantastique Strange" and "The Golden Octopus"-appearing on the Locus Recommended Reading lists for 2006 and 2008, respectively.

She lives with her husband and son in Connecticut, and you can find her on the Web at www.beth-bern.o.b.i.+.c.h.com.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fict.i.tiously.

QUEEN'S HUNT.