1

… and that I will employ all Talent and skills necessary to do so, at all times, and in all places, so that peace and prosperity may govern this land and her people.
As the words of the ancient oath she had taken as Lady-Protector died away—making her the first Lady-Protector since Mykel the Great had created the office of "Protector of Lanachrona" hundreds of years earlier—Mykella stood for a moment looking out across the courtyard of the palace in Tempre. She had almost forgotten the remainder of the investiture ceremony. Almost. With only a slight hesitation, she walked down the steps past the bodies of her immediately deceased Uncle Joramyl and cousin Berenyt, their figures sprawled across the stone. Undercommander Areyst followed Mykella closely.
On the left side, at the bottom of the five low and wide stone steps leading up to the main entry of the palace entry, lay the body of Arms-Commander Nephryt who, less than a fraction of a glass before, had tried to cut her down with his saber. One of the Southern Guards had straightened his form and laid him out on his back, facing the palace. Beyond the body, a Southern Guard stood, holding the reins of the gray stallion that had been Joramyl's.
Before she mounted the stallion, Mykella turned to Areyst. "Have the bodies prepared for a quiet family memorial. There will be no procession and no honors for any of them." She almost added, Traitors do not deserve honors of any sort. She did not. That would have made her look weak before the still-assembled Southern Guards. "Have someone guide my sisters to the … Lady-Protector's study and provide a guard. I will see you there."
Areyst nodded. "Yes, Lady-Protector."
She could sense a certain amusement behind his words but also approval. She couldn't help but wonder what she had forgotten. With her Talent shields still tight about her, she swept the black cloak back over her shoulders, revealing the brilliant blue vest of the heir and the black nightsilk shirt and trousers she almost always wore. Then she mounted, wishing that she were taller and that she didn't have to jump to place her black boot in the stirrup. She wasn't about to ask for a leg up. She never had before, and now that she was the ruler of Lanachrona, she wasn't about to begin.
As she turned the stallion toward the east, before riding to the end of the palace, then north and out of sight to the rear courtyard, she used her Talent to extend her hearing, trying to pick up any words that might bode ill. Over the sound of hooves on the stone pavement that showed no sign of wear, even after thousands of years, she began to hear murmurs.
"… rides like a guard…"
"… never thought the daughter…"
"… the one Seltyr looked to fill his britches…"
Had that been Malaryk, the envoy from Southgate, or one of the local Seltyrs from Tempre? Either way, that suggested problems, not that there wouldn't be scores of them in the days ahead.
Her eyes flicked to the massive oblong structure that was the palace. Not for the first time, she wondered what function it had served in the days of the vanished Alectors who had built it, because the interior was anything but designed for a ruler, even with all the additions, such as the kitchens, made over the years.
After she reached the rear courtyard, she turned the stallion toward the middle rear door to the palace. Two Southern Guards looked blankly from the stallion to her, clearly not expecting the daughter of the former Lord-Protector.
"A few things have changed," she said as she reined up. "Lord Joramyl was executed for poisoning my father and plotting the death of my brother. So was his son. That left me as Lady-Protector, and the Seltyrs and the Southern Guards have affirmed my succession."
The younger guard swallowed hard. The older and graying guard nodded slowly. "We have always served your family, Lady. We will continue to do so."
Mykella could sense the honesty behind the words. "Thank you." She dismounted gracefully, handed him the reins, stepped back, then turned toward the door.
"… she do that?" she heard the younger guard say as she opened the door.
"She was named after Mykel the Great … for good reason, it appears…"
As she closed the palace door behind her, she certainly hoped so, but put that thought aside as she hurried along the wide interior corridor, following it west, then south, and finally east to reach the central stone staircase—wide as it was, the only staircase—to the upper level of the palace. At the base of the steps were two Southern Guards, both older rankers, rather than the interior palace guards she had known. That Areyst had made that change did not surprise her, but the speed with which he had acted did. It also pleased her.
The one on the left inclined his head. "Lady-Protector."
Mykella returned the nod and hurried up the stairs. Neither guard spoke again even after she passed them. Another pair of Southern Guards were stationed at the top. She nodded to both and turned to her left. In moments, she had reached her destination. For just a moment, she hesitated. Was it still Sexdi? Her father's memorial ceremony, just yesterday, seemed far longer than a day ago. She straightened and opened the door.
Chalmyr rose from behind the table-desk in the outer anteroom that guarded the entry to the study that had been her father's. "Lady-Protector."
Mykella almost smiled. "Who told you?"
"Undercommander Areyst sent a Southern Guard to inform me. He has also placed trusted guards in places in the palace."
"I know." She didn't mention how she'd discovered that. "The commander is quite able and very loyal." She paused and looked at Chalmyr. "How did you feel about my father's death and Joramyl's efforts to become Lord-Protector?"
"I was distressed, Lady. I cautioned your father about Lord Joramyl once. The second time I brought up the matter, he told me never to mention the subject again if I wanted to remain as his private scrivener." The gray-haired functionary smiled sadly.
Mykella could sense the truth of the older man's feelings. "Then you will serve me as loyally as you did him?"
"If you will have me, Lady-Protector."
"I will … but only if you remain honest and tell me of your misgivings about any action I may take or contemplate."
Chalmyr bowed deeply. "That I will, Lady." He straightened. "Your sister Salyna is already awaiting you in the study."
"Do you know where Rachylana is?"
"She is in her chamber. A pair of Southern Guards are posted there to keep others from intruding. The undercommander said that she was not to leave the palace without your permission."
"That is correct. Matters need to settle for a time."
When Mykella stepped through the inner door, Salyna was standing to one side of the desk in the study that had always been that of the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona, a study that had become Mykella's as the first Lady-Protector of the land.
Behind the outward poise of her tall, blond, and beautiful youngest sister, Mykella could sense confusion, apprehension … and even some fear. Given Salyna's expertise and training with weapons, that fear surprised Mykella.
"There's no reason for you to worry now," Mykella said.
"You can sense that, too, can't you?"
"When people are close."
"With what you did … why couldn't you save Father?" Salyna's voice was not quite accusatory.
"I couldn't learn what I learned fast enough." Mykella shook her head. "The … things … I did … today … some of them … today was the first time I did them." At least in public. But some of them she'd only tried once before, and all of them—except seeing the soarer, using the Table in the depths of the palace's lower levels, and beginning to sense what people felt—she had been forced to learn in order to survive after her father's poisoning by Joramyl. "Until I did them today…" She shrugged, a gesture between resignation and helplessness. "You know I tried to caution Father … and warn him."
"Did you have to kill Berenyt?"
"Yes. He was weak, and Cheleyza would have manipulated him. She might even have married him. She's that calculating."
Before Mykella could say more, there was a rap on the study door. "Lady-Protector, Undercommander Areyst."
"Have him come in."
The broad-shouldered and blond Areyst stepped into the study and immediately bowed. "Lady-Protector." As he straightened, his pale green eyes met those of Mykella. She could sense a firm resolve, as well as concern for her. That boded well, since she'd named him as both Arms-Commander of Lanachrona and her designated heir. She could also sense the thin strand of green amid the golden brown of his unseen life-thread, a thread that seemed more vital than that of Salyna's and far more than that of Chalmyr, whose thread was almost yellowish brown, stretching invisibly out to the east.
Areyst extended his hand, palm up. In it was a ring, golden with a large square-cut emerald set in the middle of the seal of Lanachrona. "This was your father's. The usurper wore it. It is yours now."
Both seeing her father's seal ring and hearing Areyst calling her uncle a usurper jolted Mykella, but she nodded as she took the ring. "Thank you." Because it was far too large to fit any of her fingers, she slipped it into her belt pouch.
"It is yours by right," Areyst said quietly.
"It is the Lady-Protector's by right," Mykella said gently, "not mine."
Areyst nodded.
Mykella sensed his approval of her words even as she thought for a moment. Although she had planned carefully the steps by which she had removed her uncle Joramyl and his son Berenyt after their all-too-successful efforts to kill her father and her brother Jeraxylt, she really hadn't planned beyond stopping her uncle from taking control of Lanachrona.
"Commander Areyst," she began, looking into his pale green eyes, "what sort of document or proclamation do we need to confirm you as Arms-Commander of Lanachrona?"
"A simple statement with the Lord-Protector's … the Lady-Protector's signature and seal, Lady Mykella."
"I'll also need your recommendations for the officers to take your place and that of Commander Nephryt in the Southern Guards."
"I would recommend Majer Choalt as Commander, but he will have to be recalled from Soupat." Areyst paused. "We should discuss the position of undercommander, now that Commander Demyl has … departed."
"For the moment, I assume you and … other officers you trust can handle the combined duties. Will that be a problem?"
"No, Lady." A faint smile crossed Areyst's lightly tanned face. "I will dispatch a courier to recall the majer immediately."
"I also need to deal with Cheleyza…"
"Confine her," suggested Salyna.
Areyst nodded.
Mykella looked to the Arms-Commander. "Would you have a squad escort her here to see me? Can you also spare a squad to keep anyone from removing anything from the villa? It's not personal property but belongs to the Lord- or Lady-Protector."
"Those matters I can and will attend to. Pardoning my forwardness, Lady, both would be good ideas. If you would excuse me?"
Mykella nodded. "If you would keep me informed as to your whereabouts after dealing with Lady Cheleyza."
"I will do so." Areyst paused. "I'll also have Captain Maeltor report here in case anything else comes up where you may need the Southern Guards."
"That would be good." Mykella smiled ruefully. She should have thought of that. At least, she'd been intelligent enough to involve Areyst. "You may go."
With a nod, the commander departed.
His brevity and haste told Mykella she should have thought of putting Cheleyza under guard even sooner, but it was less than half a glass after she'd become Lady-Protector, and dealing with her late uncle's wife hadn't been her highest priority. She almost shook her head. Now … now … there could be no excuses. Only mistakes when you fail to act as necessary.
Once Areyst had left the study, Mykella turned back to Salyna. "I still need to talk to Rachylana."
"She won't want to talk to you," predicted Salyna. "She's convinced that she was in love with Berenyt and that he loved her. You've ruined everything for her. She thinks you did it out of spite and greed. She said that you've always wanted to rule after Father."
"I kept her alive. Cheleyza would have poisoned her again before long—or done something else equally fatal in order to keep Berenyt from marrying her."
"She won't believe that, Mykella. She never will."
"You do, don't you?"
Salyna offered a sad smile. "I wasn't sure for a long time. I thought you were right, but that was more because I trusted you. Now … people can't lie to you, can they?"
"They can lie all they want, and some still do."
"That's not what I meant. You've changed. Did you know that I danced with that Deforyan majer?"
"No. You didn't mention it."
"He asked a lot of questions about you."
From her one dance with Majer Smoltak, Mykella had no difficulty believing that. "And?"
"He said that no one could deceive you. He also said that such a trait was admirable and useful in a ruler, but for anyone else it led to great pain and chaos. It already has, hasn't it?" Salyna's voice was gentle.
"What else would you have had me do?"
"Knowing you, there weren't any other choices." A hint of bitterness lay behind the words, softly as they had been spoken.
Mykella walked toward the wide window that looked out on the front courtyard, still filled with the weak sunlight of a late afternoon in the middle tendays of spring, scarcely any warmer than winter. Was Salyna right? Had all the deaths that she had already created, both directly and indirectly, been unavoidable, just because of who she was? How many others would there be?
"You can't stop now," Salyna said. "Then all of it will have been for nothing."
Her sister's words brought her up short, with the suggestion that there was still more to do. Of course there was, but … What have you forgotten? Who else was part of Joramyl's plots?Abruptly, she stiffened. How could she have forgotten the lizardly Maxymt, who had replaced poor Kiedryn as the head Finance clerk? That reminded her that she needed to have someone track down Kiedryn's family and allow them to return to Tempre. She also needed to make sure they received the stipend Kiedryn would have received if Joramyl had not forced the poor clerk to suicide. As soon as practicable, she needed to talk to Lord Gharyk and all the other ministers who had served her father. And what about Treghyt, the healer? How much had he known, or suspected, about the poisonings?
She turned back to Salyna. "Have you seen Treghyt recently?"
"No." Salyna frowned. "Why?"
"I need to talk to him."
"Do you think…?"
"I don't know. I need to find out." She turned as there was another knock on the study door. She sensed Chalmyr outside, along with another man. "Yes?"
The private scrivener eased the door open slightly. "Captain Maeltor is standing by, Lady-Protector. Do you have any orders for him?"
"I do. If you would have him come in." Mykella walked from the window back to a position before the carved desk that held so many memories, all centered on her father.
Chalmyr opened the door wider and gestured to the officer.
Maeltor was a captain Mykella did not recognize, barely half a head taller than she was, and that meant he was indeed short for an officer, but with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He carried his cap under his arm, and his face was olive-tanned under black hair. He inclined his head respectfully, then straightened, his black eyes alert. "Lady-Protector."
"Captain … I don't recall seeing you here before."
"No, Lady. I've just been promoted from undercaptain, and I was passing through before taking up a new post with Fifth Company in Dekhron."
Mykella nodded, then spoke. "There are a few other tasks that need to be taken care of. I'd like you to have some men take Maxymt into custody. He is the head clerk of the Finance Ministry, and that study is at the far end of the north corridor on this level of the palace. It should be open, but Chalmyr will have a key. I'd also like you to see if someone can locate the healer Treghyt so that I might talk to him."
"Yes, Lady-Protector. Is there anything else?"
"Not for the moment, Captain." I'm afraid there will be, though.
Maeltor nodded, then turned and departed, closing the study door behind him.
"Maxymt won't be there," Mykella predicted. "Neither will Treghyt."
"If either saw what you did on the steps," said Salyna, "they'll be on their way to the Iron Valleys, or taking a boat across the river to Squawt country."
"There are others I won't see again, either," mused Mykella, "and that alone will tell me who else was with Joramyl."
"Or those who believe you will think that," pointed out Salyna.
"That's all too possible. Some of them may even be guilty." Mykella took a deep breath. "For the moment, will you take over running the palace? I know that's not something…"
Salyna smiled. "I can do that. Chatelaine Auralya will be more than glad to tell me if I'm about to make a mistake." Her smile widened into a brief grin that quickly faded.
"Only for a while." Mykella paused. "In a few days … when the worst settles down, you can…" She stopped.
Salyna was shaking her head. "Things will settle down. They'll never be the same, though."
"You won't ever have to go to Southgate. Ever. Or anyplace else."
"Mykella … sooner or later … I'll have to go somewhere if I want to have a life of my own. We both know that."
"Later doesn't mean sooner. If you want to be matched, he will have to meet your approval, in person, and mine. You can also have the choice not to choose."
"Thank you. It would be nice to have some choice, or not be forced into choosing. What about you? You're going to take the commander, aren't you?"
"That's possible. I haven't said anything."
"He'd be a fool to refuse."
"That's why I haven't said anything."
Salyna merely nodded, but Mykella could sense a certain amusement behind her sister's pleasant expression.
Mykella paused. What else could she say? "Would you mind checking on Rachylana?"
"I can do that."
Mykella watched as her youngest sister slipped out of the study. What if Areyst turns out not to care for me? She didn't think she'd misread his interest, an interest that she had sensed months before … but … What if it's only interest … and not much more?
After she had set Chalmyr to drafting the documents promoting Choalt and Areyst, Mykella was still pondering over all the difficulties that lay before her when Salyna returned more than a half glass later.
"What did she say?"
"She didn't want to talk to me. She'd bolted the door. I talked to the door, and finally she let me in when I asked if she wanted the entire palace to hear what I had to say. She wasn't happy. She's been crying all the time since the ceremony."
"It's all my fault, of course."
"Mykella … what you did was necessary, but it is your fault."
"So it would have been better for Father's poisoning and Jeraxylt's planned ‘accident' to go unnoticed, for Joramyl to seize the office of Lord-Protector, all so that she could marry Berenyt? So that I could be hurried off to Dereka, and you could be matched to the son of a spoiled Seltyr in Southgate?"
"She thinks she loves him. You killed him. That's all that matters to her now."
Mykella could only shake her head.
"Captain Maeltor, Lady," announced Chalmyr from outside the study door.
"Have him enter."
Maeltor stepped into the study.
"I take it that Maxymt has fled," said Mykella.
"Yes, Lady."
"That's not your fault. I should have sent someone as soon as I finished the investiture. What about the healer?"
"His study is untouched. It's very neat. He's not there. I sent several men to his home, but they have not returned."
"Thank you. For now, I'd appreciate it if you'd stand by in the antechamber until Commander Areyst returns."
"Yes, Lady."
Once Maeltor had left the study, Mykella turned and studied the desk, as well as the chair behind it. She'd need a higher chair if she were to use the desk, let alone not to appear dwarfed by it. She shook her head.
"What?" asked Salyna.
"So many things to do. Big things … little things."
"You can't do them all at once," Salyna said, her tone reasonable.
"No … but if I don't do most of them soon, matters will get worse."
"What do you want me to do?"
At that moment, there was another rap on the door.
"Commander Areyst, Lady," announced Chalmyr.
Salyna looked to Mykella. "He didn't mention Cheleyza."
"Have him enter."
Areyst stepped into the study. While he'd clearly blotted his face, it was still shiny, and his tunic was damp in places. "The Lady Cheleyza has fled Tempre, Lady-Protector. My men are attempting to discover which road she may have taken or whether she fled by the river."
Mykella couldn't say she was totally surprised by her aunt's departure. She did have to admire Cheleyza's speed of action. "Commander … if you would come with me…" As she sensed his concern, she added, "We're only going to the lower levels of the palace."
Salyna's eyebrows rose.
"You'd better come as well, Salyna," added Mykella, absently fingering the pouch at her waist that held the keys to all the locks in the palace, keys she had carried from the day of her mother's death years before.
Both Areyst and Salyna followed her as she walked swiftly from the study to the main staircase, then down and along the west corridor, not quite so far as to the rear door to the gardens, but to a locked door—one that looked like a closet door. It wasn't, but the door to the narrow staircase down to the lowest levels of the palace.
"What's down here?" asked Salyna.
"You know, but you'll see why." Mykella eased the proper key on the iron ring into the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
Three sets of boots echoed dully down the narrow stairwell to the small foyer at the bottom, where Mykella paused and glanced at the ancient light-torch in the bronze wall bracket before heading through the archway that separated the staircase foyer from the subterranean—and empty—hallway that extended the entire length of the north side of the palace.
"Mykella…" ventured Salyna.
"There's nothing down here that shouldn't be." Mykella wondered momentarily if she should have used her Talent to slip down to the Table chamber unseen. But then, how would you have explained your absence? That's going to be a problem.
Brisk steps brought her to the door set in the middle of the wall closest to the outside foundation, a door of ancient oak, with an equally antique lever handle. Yet that lever, old as it had to be, seemed newer than the hinges or than even the replacement stones that comprised the doorjamb. She pressed the lever down, and the hinges still squeaked as she opened the door.
In spite of herself, she shook her head. She had asked the palace steward three times to have the hinges oiled. Was the staff that fearful of the lower level? She turned to Areyst. "This is the Table chamber." Then she looked to her sister. "Did Father ever bring you here?"
"Just twice. It bothered me."
Mykella could tell that Salyna was uneasy although there was nothing overtly that strange about the windowless stone-walled space some five yards by seven, without furnishings except for a single black wooden chest and the Table itself—a block of blackish stone set into the floor whose flat and mirrored surface was level with her waist—her lowest ribs really, she had to admit. The faint purple tinge that had bothered her for the last several seasons and that in years, so far, she was the only one to sense, seemed to have faded since she had destroyed the Ifrit's creation that had emerged from the Table and tried to enslave her. It was hard to believe that the Ifrits were essentially the descendants—or perhaps cousins of sorts—of the legendary Alectors. "If you'd close the door…"
Areyst did so, not speaking as Mykella walked over to the Table and glanced down. Once she had doubted the old tales about how, before the Cataclysm, the Alectors and even Mykel the Great had been able to travel from Table to Table all across Corus. Then she had found that she could do so, although some Table chambers she had visited were blocked from outside, and one was located somewhere that was so cold that she'd almost frozen to death before managing to return to Tempre. Now, those Tables, a few buildings, the eternal and indestructible highways, the Great Piers, and the green towers were all that remained from that time.
Mykella looked at her own reflection in the mirror surface of the Table—short black hair, broad forehead with clear skin, green eyes with a darkness behind them, a straight nose, shoulders too broad for a woman as small as she was.
"Might I ask why we are here?" Areyst finally asked.
"To see if I can determine if the Table will show where Cheleyza might be at this moment. I don't know if you can see what it displays, but we might as well try." She did not look up as Areyst stepped up to her left and Salyna to her right.
Mykella concentrated, fixing an image of Cheleyza in her mind and projecting it toward the Table. Her own reflection faded, and the silvery black gave way to swirling silvery-white mists. Then, an image appeared in the center of the mists—that of a wide barge with ten men or so at the sweeps. Mykella concentrated on the barge, and the image in the Table enlarged enough that she could make out the dark hair and fine features of Cheleyza looking out from a hooded winter jacket toward the rear of the barge. Then she tried to get a better sense of where the barge was.
"It's all fuzzy…" murmured Salyna.
"She's on the river," said Areyst.
"Do you know where?" asked Mykella. "I don't recognize what's along the bank … the north bank, isn't it, from the light?"
"I can't be sure, but it looks like the stretch on the Vedra west of Tempre, no more than ten vingts from the Great Piers."
"That's not far," said Salyna.
"It might as well be a hundred vingts," replied Areyst. "There's no bridge across the river until Hieron, and that's more than four hundred vingts. The road on our side of the river isn't much more than a dirt track after the first thirty vingts, and there's no road at all on the Squawt side."
"She's going to get away? Just like that?" asked Salyna.
"Do you have a better idea?" asked Mykella evenly.
"No … but it seems so … wrong."
"Sometimes that happens. Unhappily, I doubt we've seen the last of dear Aunt Cheleyza." Mykella looked to Areyst. "I had Chalmyr draft the documents to promote you and Majer Choalt. We might as well go back to the study so that I can sign them." And see what else has gone wrong.
She turned and headed toward the door from the Table chamber.



Copyright © 2011 by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.