“The hill roads were almost impassable when Coram and I rode for Berat.” What is wrong with him? she wondered. Raoul’s hands were clenched so tightly in his lap that the knuckles were white. “They were still bad in the south because of the winter rains. No messengers were coming through. And Berat’s too far from the sea to get the news from the ships.”
“Your Gift, though—?”
“I didn’t want to contact anyone with it. I was … busy,” she admitted, blushing as she thought of Liam. “What difference does my being in touch or not make? By April we were in Sarain. No messengers could’ve found us there.”
“This was before April.” Raoul’s voice was tight. “Remember All Hallow? George told us you were with him in Port Caynn.” Alanna’s blush deepened. “Thom was doing experiments—that’s what he told everyone.”
“He borrowed my Gift.” Her stomach sank. She sensed the worst was coming, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.
“We didn’t know,” Raoul said disjointedly. “He kept it secret till late in February. It probably finished her Majesty … You remember Delia of Eldorne?”
“Raoul, please spit it out,” Alanna pleaded. He seemed not to hear.
“She’d been after Thom since you left. Telling him that the really great sorcerers could raise the dead, playing off his pride. Sorry, Alanna, but you know how vain he is. Thom finally lost his temper. It was at a court ball; we all heard him. He told her he could do anything Denmarie the Earth-Shaker could do—”
Alanna felt dizzy. “Roger. He brought Roger back.”
5
IN THE CAPITAL OF TORTALL
WHEN QUEEN LIANNE DIED IN MARCH, TORTALL mourned. Now, after the king’s sudden death, the nation’s feeling was one of shocked disbelief. To lose both in such a short time seemed like the work of an angry god.
“The Black God is taking his revenge on us,” people muttered. “He’s not pleased that the Lord of Trebond brought the Duke back from his grave. You can’t go interfering with the gods without them extracting payment.” The rumors spread, and gossips began to claim that Jonathan’s reign would be cursed.
“As if I don’t have enough problems,” Jonathan told his acting prime minister, Sir Gareth (the Younger) of Naxen.
Gary looked up from the documents he studied, his chestnut eyes worried. His cousin looked worn out. “Talking to yourself again?” He said it like a joke.
“The rumors,” Jonathan explained.
“They’ll pass, particularly since there’s no proof. If the gods are angry, why would they pick on their Majesties? Why haven’t they struck Master Lord Thom down? If they want, I’ll volunteer for the duty. Thom irritates me. A good striking-down might improve him.”
“Does he look sick to you?” Jon asked abruptly. “Thom?”
Gary put down his papers. “I don’t get close enough to notice how our bold sorcerer looks, if I can help it. He never sheathes that tongue of his anymore. Why?”
“George mentioned it to me, the other day. Thom does seem thinner.”
“He’s probably losing sleep while he looks up some old spell or the other. Jon, I need your signature on these.”
Jonathan obeyed, writing his name over the royal seal on several documents. “I still can’t get used to signing as ruler of Tortall. I didn’t think I’d be king for … years.” He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Sympathetic, Gary said nothing. After a moment Jon went on. “I feel helpless. I should have done something to keep them alive.”
“What could anyone have done?” Gary asked sensibly. “Aunt Lianne never got well after Roger’s spell was broken. And the king—” He stopped, not wanting to touch an unhealed wound.
“He killed himself,” Jon whispered. He always forced himself to see the truth, and Gary was one of the few who knew the king had deliberately killed himself. “How could he do that?”
“He loved her.” Gary’s voice was soft.
Jonathan shook his head. “Could I love anyone so much that I’d forget that I have a duty to my people? George says you can smell their fear down in the Lower City. I can’t blame them for thinking there’s a curse—not with the famine last winter, and then … this. And what can I tell them that will give them confidence? They don’t know me. They didn’t really know my father.” He returned the documents to his cousin. “Once things have settled down, I’m going to visit every corner of Tortall. I won’t be a king who stays in his palace and waits for his people to come to him.” His face was set and stubborn. “I hope Alanna really can bring us the Dominion Jewel.”
“Do you think the messengers will find her?” Gary asked.
“One of them will. One of them has to.”
As Jonathan and Gary talked, George Cooper entered his mother’s house. A message from Corus had brought him home from Port Caynn at a gallop. Claw, frustrated by months of trying to kill George, had done the unthinkable and attacked a noncombatant, Eleni Cooper. Men and women loyal to George had turned back Claw’s forces, and now Mistress Cooper’s home resembled an army camp, complete with wary sentries.
When her son walked into the kitchen, Eleni was sorting and boxing the herbs she used as a healer. Pots holding some potions bubbled on the hearth, filling the air with the scent of herbs.
“It could have been worse,” she told George. “None of your people were killed, and I’m all right.”
George scowled. “This time, Mother. What of the next time, and the next? He attacked a woman who’s not sealed to the Rogue. Claw will respect none of our laws if he breaks this one. He don’t care who gets hurt. He don’t care if my Lord Provost descends on us with soldiers to rid the city of us and our wars. He cares nothin’ for them he bribes and forces to follow him. They can end on Gallows Hill, and Claw will make no move to save them. It isn’t right. He wants to be Rogue, but he won’t look after those sealed to him as is his duty.” He accepted the cup of herbal tea she poured for him and sipped it without noticing what he drank. “Our greatest advantage lay always in never causin’ enough trouble that my Lord Provost would be interested in cleanin’ the Lower City of us.”
“You’ll find a way to deal with him,” Eleni told him. She labeled a packet of comfrey leaves. “I’ve never known you to admit defeat, George.”
“Sometimes I start believin’ the rumors,” George whispered, looking tired. “Let’s face it, Mother—a man killed once should stay dead.”
Eleni sat across from him at the table. “Thank the Goddess his Gift didn’t leave the tomb with him.”
“We’ve only his word for that, and Thom’s.” George spooned honey into his tea. “I think sometimes all our troubles since October stem from those two. No, that’s unfair. I let Alanna go myself.”
“She could have waited for you in Port Caynn,” Eleni reminded him.
George smiled ruefully. “I try not to ask the impossible of her, Mother. She’s not a lass who waits at home for her man.”
“She could have returned here with you.”
George shook his head. “She didn’t wish to face our nobles again. I think her memories of Jonathan still hurt.”
“Perhaps you should go after her, then. You haven’t been yourself since she returned to the desert.” Taking one of his hands, she added, “It would please me to know you had stopped your courting of the hangman’s noose.”
George squeezed her hand. “I can’t, Mother, not yet. I’ve a few things to finish up here, first.” His face was bleak. “Besides, didn’t I tell you? The news from Maren and Sarain is she’s keepin’ company with the Shang Dragon. How can a commoner and a rogue rival the likes of the king of Tortall and Liam Ironarm?”