“I’ll do my best, of course, lad, but you must prepare yourself.” The physician shook his head. “Your friend is going to be a very sick man for some time. If we can’t control the infection, we may have to remove his arm to save his life.”
5
Words of Warning
“Majesty, do you not think you’ve wasted enough time on these groundling Wizards?” Elster winced and inwardly cursed her own temerity as the Queen’s dark eyes kindled with a flash of anger. I would have to go and open my mouth, she thought.
“How dare you even suggest such a thing, after all that Aurian and Anvar have done for us?” Raven leapt up from her seat and began to pace up and down the richly appointed chamber, the sound of her footsteps tapping an impatient rhythm on the marble, and the swirl of her robes as she turned casting a shadowed reflection in the gleaming surface of the stone. Her expression darkened with a furious scowl. “You may be old enough to be my grandmother, Elster, and you may have saved my life, but that does not give you the right to tell me how to run my kingdom!”
Elster hesitated—then decided that she had already gone so far, she might as well go all the way. “If I do not, then who will?” she countered. “You are right, Majesty, I know little of ruling, but I have spent many years in the world. Because I am a physician, folk confide in me, and I know how to keep my eyes and ears open besides. You are young, and for all your mother’s training, you have little more experience than I. Because of the royal isolation in which you were reared, you have few or no friends within the palace. Queen Flamewing’s counselors all perished in Blacktalon’s reign, and you have not appointed any of your own. That is only one of the many essential tasks you have put off while the groundlings have taken up all your attention and time. Why, you aren’t even officially crowned yet, and will not be until a new High Priest is appointed: another task you have neglected. But be warned; if you don’t take a hand in the selection, then the Priesthood will do it for you—and their choice may not be the same as your own, nor necessarily to your good.”
“Give me a chance, for Yinze’s sake!” the Queen snapped.
“I may—but you have enemies in Aerillia who will not.” Seeing storm clouds gathering on Raven’s face, the winged physician tempered her reproof with a smile. “Will you not listen, at least, to one who would be your friend? I am only offering information and advice. You could use the information, you know, even if you decide to discard the advice.”
“Information?” Raven’s pacing stopped abruptly. “What information? And what do you mean by enemies? Who dares to oppose me?”
The healer, relieved that the girl seemed to be coming to her senses at last, settled herself more comfortably on her spindly chair with a rustle of her black-and-white wings. She glanced around Raven’s comfortable, lamplit room with its gold-stitched hangings on the wall, and longed for the peace and anonymity of her own cramped, drafty quarters on the lower spur of the pinnacle. But it was no good wishing—the little hanging turret had been smashed to rubble, along with that entire area of Aerillia, in the fall of Blacktalon’s tower. The Queen, in gratitude for Elster’s having saved her life, had given her the title of Royal Physician and moved her into the palace—much to the healer’s dismay. Her quarters were far more sumptuous and comfortable now, but it sat ill with her that Raven should have a hold over her comings and goings and a monopoly on her skills; in her experience such close proximity to a reigning monarch was neither comfortable, peaceful, nor safe.
“Well?” Raven’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts. “You seem very slow with your answers, for one who only a moment ago was so full of advice. Or were you just trying to frighten me?”
Elster sighed. “I only wish I did know the names of your foes,” she admitted, “but I would advise vigilance, Majesty. Blacktalon left many secret supporters in this city. Be wary of those in whom you place your trust.”
“You have told me nothing, you useless crone! If the identity of Blacktalon’s supporters is such a secret, then who in Yinze’s name should I decide to trust?” Raven replied sulkily.
Elster took a deep breath and reminded herself that in spite of all her trappings of power, the Queen was still little more than a child. “Usually—if I do say so myself—” she answered wryly, “you can trust those who are prepared to risk your wrath by telling you the painful truth.”
“How very convenient. In that case, I suppose I should make you my chief counselor,” the winged girl sneered.
“You could do worse. At least I am not saying that it was Blacktalon who ended the winter, and not the Magefolk. Nor am I spreading rumors that, for any number of reasons, you are unfit to rule.”
Raven’s mouth fell open. “What reasons?” she managed to say, in a small, choked voice.
For the first time since the start of their conversation, Elster felt she had the Queen’s complete attention. She began to count off the points she made on her fingers:
“For one thing, they are saying that Aurian’s healing spells are a trick, and that the injuries to your wings will come back as soon as she leaves, leaving you crippled once more.”
“Preposterous!” Raven snapped. “That will be revealed as a falsehood the minute the Mages depart.”
“True—but to guard their falsehoods, they are also saying that you are in league with the natural enemies of the Winged Folk: Wizards, Xandim, and the great cats. Because of what happened with the Khazalim Prince who was Blacktalon’s ally…” Elster nodded her head in mute apology at the sight of Raven’s stricken face. “I am sorry, Majesty, to distress you, but somehow word of that regrettable business has got out, and it were best you know. The talk is that you have been duped again by Outlanders, and that you will betray us to our foes. The Queen, they say, is too young and inexperienced to rule the Skyfolk.”
“Yinze blast them—how can they spread such lies!” Raven struck the wall with her fist, but the force of her blow was smothered by the heavy tapestries. “It’s not true—none of it!”
The healer felt a desperate urge to comfort the beleaguered girl, but cosseting the Queen would not solve anything. It was hard, but she would have to learn to deal with crises such as these—and fast. “Then what are you going to do about it?” Elster asked levelly.
“I don’t know,” Raven wailed. “I would have them arrested as traitors, but we don’t know who they are. And how can I counter their vile calumnies? If I make any public protest, it will just add fuel to the rumors and make matters worse.” She twisted her hands together. “I never realized that being Queen would prove so difficult…”
“It isn’t, necessarily,” Elster told her wryly. “All you need is the backing of the military and the Priesthood—and, as a secondary consideration, the rest of the populace.” She smiled at the distraught girl and patted the seat beside her. “Here, child—sit down and stop panicking. Have some wine. Now, let’s think this through together, shall we?”
Meekly, Raven sat, and accepted the goblet that the other thrust into her hands. Elster let her take a long draft before saying: “First, I suggest you employ a taster. As a physician, I have an extensive knowledge of poisons…”
The color drained from the Queen’s face. She began to choke.
“It’s all right. I haven’t done anything of the kind,” Elster shouted over her splutters, hoping that the lesson had hit home. “But I very easily might have.”
Raven’s face went from chalk to crimson in an instant. “Hag! Harpy!” she shrieked, launching herself at the physician with her taloned claws extended. Elster’s old bones rediscovered a nimbleness they had lacked for years as she grabbed the girl’s wrists in her strong, gnarled hands and hung on grimly until Raven’s struggles ceased.