Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 42
Keriam smiled. "All good practice, nothing that will kill me. Why, if ever I have to find a position, I'll warrant all this work--" She waved her hand, indicating the garden and the palace--"will serve me well."
Maudina spoke quickly. "Madam, I must leave you soon. I lied to the guard, told him I had a message for you from Aradia. If I stay too long . . ." She shrugged her shoulders, a worried frown on her face. "And I will go to my sister, if I ever can. Believe me, if you gain the throne--and oh! madam, I pray that you do--I shall come back to serve you."
"Good! Now, dear Maudina, best you go back." Keriam stifled her disappointment, so happy to see her maid again, to talk to her, discover how she managed. "I don't want you to get into trouble." When would she see her again?
"Madam, I wanted you to know, since this is the first chance I've had to talk to you--before Radegunda left the palace, she urged me to tell you that if you can escape, you're always welcome to live with her, so--"
"Radegunda's--that's the first place Balor would look." Surely Aradia had told Balor about their herbal lessons, for Aradia never missed much.
"She's considered that, madam. If you go there, she intends to leave right away for her brother's farm in the country, north of Moytura."
"Very well, if I can escape." Keriam pounded her fist in her the palm of her other hand. "I must get out of here, not for my sake, but for the kingdom. I could do more for Avador away from the palace. If I can inspire a revolt among the people--"
"A dangerous gamble, madam. I fear you'd be severely punished."
"I'm willing to take the risk. Or if I can get word to Elegia, to have them come to our
aid . . ." Desperate plans rampaged through her mind. "As it is, I'm sure they don't know that . . ." She swallowed hard--"that the king was m-murdered, unless someone from here got word to them." She frowned. "Not likely, though." She pressed her hands to her face. "My father and
I . . . we were to attend a royal wedding in Elegia the next moonphase. Goddess, what will they think, when we don't appear?"
"I don't know!" Maudina stood. "Madam, forgive me, but I must leave. Only remember--Radegunda. She lives at 15 Perfume Lane, keeps the key hidden behind a loose brick, fifth brick from the bottom, to the right of the front door."
Keriam silently repeated the directions. "I'll remember. And thank you for coming to tell me. Much as I enjoy visiting with you, I fear you will only bring trouble on yourself if you come see me again."
"Don't worry about me. I'll try to visit whenever I can. Goodbye, madam."
Keriam rose and gave her another warm embrace. "Goodbye, Maudina."
The maid rushed off along the pathway, her dress fluttering around her ankles, until she became a small figure in the distance. After one final wave, she opened the wide oak door at the back courtyard, then disappeared inside the palace.
A guard stood by the door, prompting Keriam to worry if he'd report Maudina, or if he'd accepted her story. Kind, dependable Hafgan had always served her and her father well, but Balor had wrought so many changes within the palace, creating shifting loyalties and arousing suspicions among the servants. No one knew whom to trust.
Keriam returned to the bench, resting her hands in her lap. The wind picked up, cooler now, wafting her hair about her face. She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and hugged her arms, weighing her few options, painfully aware that for the first time in her life, she was at the mercy of others.
No, she wasn't! She would determine her own fate. Maudina had given her much to think about, and there must be an answer to her plight. Ideas and possibilities churned through her mind, each one quickly discarded. Countless moments slid past as she remained in quiet but busy contemplation, until a scheme struck her like a flash of light. Dare she try it? She had nothing to lose.
Smiling, she resumed her task, eager to put her plan into action. She felt better than she had in a long time, if only her scheme would work. She would persevere, and she would triumph.
Chapter Seventeen
"We must raise taxes," Balor said,. presiding over a long oval table in the Blue Royal Conference Room. "We'll need more money. I fear war will be forced upon us."
War with whom? At a loss for words, Roric stared down at his hands, then raised his eyes. Balor had better explain himself.
While Balor pontificated to his eight ministers and the steward, Roric., the usurper's eyes shifted from one man to the next, as if he were daring anyone to challenge his legitimacy. And that is a valid concern, Roric agonized, his gaze on this upstart. Roric’s look slid to the other men in the room. What was going through their minds? Was their loyalty only a pretense, as was his? Four had served under Tencien, their sudden switch of allegiance to the new king a shock to him.
A stack of vellum rested in front of Balor, his thumb and forefinger ruffling the pages. Feather pens, ink wells, and papers sat at each man's place, the oak table polished to a shine. Discarding his uniform for all the trappings of his new kingly role, Balor sported a long-sleeved purple velvet tunic, a gold pendant adorning his neck, a gold-link belt circling his waist. A gold ring flashed on his right ring finger, two bracelets of the same dangling from his left wrist--enough of the precious metal to feed a family for several years.
The other men, including Roric, wore simple tunics of gray, brown, or black, with wide black or brown leather belts buckled at their waists. Soon the impending cool weather would necessitate woolen trousers and cloaks.
Since Balor didn't permit any weapons in the palace--aside from the swords carried by the guards--Roric had had special high boots made with a hidden sheath for his dagger, and thus kept the weapon with him at all times.
As palace steward, Roric always joined this group that met at least once every nineday. Did Balor value his opinion, or did the new king simply want to keep an eye on him? If it was the latter, Roric knew he was in trouble. Having served faithfully first as courier and then palace steward under Tencien, Roric feared he could well be an object of suspicion under this king murderer. Only one moonphase had passed since the fiend had gained the throne; his changes had already caused misery within the palace and throughout the kingdom. Only look at all the men out of work, newly-made vagrants roaming the streets of the capital, robbing honest men and ravishing respectable women.
Surely the caravans to Elegia had brought word of Tencien's assassination and of Balor's takeover of the throne. Would the Elegians come to Avador's aid and help overthrow Balor? Roric wondered if he could persuade King Barzad to assist Avador, if only he could travel there. For now, he didn't see a chance to leave the country, since any extended absence would arouse Balor’s suspicions. Above all, he must work toward placing Princess Keriam on the throne. He clenched his jaw, determined to make that happen. His thoughts dwelt on Keriam, to all the lovely things about her, everything that made her a desirable woman, a woman he might some day learn to care for, and one he thought about night after night. Yet he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since the king’s assassination, hadn’t had a chance to comfort her and assure her of his devotion. Stifling his anger at the usurper, he returned his thoughts to the discussion.
"Sire, the people will surely object to a raise in taxes," Drummond Haley, the new Minister of Coinage, offered after the king had silently read a few messages. One of Roric's recruits, Haley harbored the steward's hatred of Balor. Both men anticipated the right moment--if it ever came--to overthrow the new monarch and establish Princess Keriam on the throne. The two men played a dangerous deception, a duplicity that could well result in torture and death.
"Let them object!" Balor scowled, looking up from his messages. "What can they do about it? We need money for palace repairs before the east side falls apart. We must build additional monuments to our gods and goddesses. But most important," he said, his finger stabbing the air, "we must manufacture more swords and shields for our soldiers. Elegia has made aggressive moves, reinforcing their southernmost garrison. We must prepare for war."
Stunned looks greeted this announcement, and Roric questioned if surprise or disbelief prompted the shock. Any knowledgeable person knew that Elegia was a peaceable country, wanting only to live in harmony with its neighbors. The only reason that country kept a well-equipped army was because of Avador's bellicosity in the past, before Tencien's reign.
"Still," Haley persisted, "the poor people may find it difficult to pay more money to the government, when so many of them can barely support themselves and their families." Absently, he brushed a flea from his sleeve. "For the rich, of course, the increase will present no problem. Sire, perhaps we can--"
"Perhaps we can tax everyone equally, rich and poor alike," Balor finished for him. "Let every citizen know that he is participating in his country's welfare." His eyes lit with anticipation. "Gentlemen, I have such plans for our country, to restore it to its former greatness. I look forward to the day we no longer depend on any other nation for getting our goods to market, or for importing goods from elsewhere. And we must rebuild our army, so that no other country ever threatens us again."
Roric suppressed a sneer. Sacred shrine! No country threatened Avador now, or was Balor thinking of events from long ago? He sifted ideas through his mind, striving to present a means of lessening the burden on the impoverished.
"Sire," Roric said, "have you considered taxing only unnecessary items, such as jewels and silks? That way--"
"That way, only the rich will pay taxes," Balor said. "No, I want this tax to be equally distributed among the people. Besides," he said with a sly grin, "I want everyone to gain satisfaction from knowing that they are helping to support the country. After all, if we go to war, it's to everyone's benefit to contribute to Avador.
"Which brings up a second point," Balor continued. "We must conscript more men for the army." His finger tracing the puckered scar on his cheek, his glance shifted to Gareth Egmond, Minister of War. "Put this order in effect tomorrow. Draft every able-bodied man between fifteen and forty. And one thing you must understand, gentlemen--I still retain my position as head of the army. Let there be no question about that."
While the new monarch shuffled the vellum sheets, Roric and Haley exchanged uneasy glances; then they quickly looked away, lest others suspect their connivance.
Balor retrieved a paper from the stack. "Now, another matter. Word has reached me that the former king's secretary, Conneid Delbraith, has been inciting the people against me. Foolish man! Surely he knows the penalty for treason. And he should know that we have spies everywhere." He waved the paper. "I have here a letter that Delbraith sent to one of Moytura's leading citizens, but was intercepted by one of my men. It was written in a code that was easy to break," he said with a deprecating grin. "I shall read the translated version to you.”
My dear Kevan,
Greetings and best of health to your dear wife and children. I fear the good times we
enjoyed under King Tencien–may the Goddess rest his soul–are in the past. Balor has brought suffering and misery to the Avadoran people. The people will not contend with this situation for long. You and I and everyone who feels as we do–and there are many, my friend–must do our part in resisting this malicious rule, with the goal of eventually overthrowing Balor. Let us begin by establishing committees of resistance, corresponding with each other and enumerating our grievances. Let each of us enlist others who share our concerns about the new government, those who are willing to work toward its ultimate overthrow. By that means, we can establish a cadre of fellow objectors--
Balor slapped the paper on the table. "Treason, gentlemen!" His cunning eyes moved from one man to another. "This is but one example. Word has reached me of a secret society composed of those who conspire against me. Doubtless Delbraith belongs to it. Let us never forget. The people chose me as their king!" He crumbled the letter, the sound like thunder in the quiet of the room. "But we will ferret out these traitors, starting with Delbraith. I will not countenance betrayal within the realm. And we all know the penalty for treason, don't we?"
You should know about treason, Balor. You're the vilest traitor of all. Afraid of revealing his rage, Roric studied a marble statue of Talmora that commanded a far wall. He wanted to kill the king now, end the country's misery, but he'd never murdered anyone in cold blood, and he couldn't--wouldn't--do it now. Roric had heard tales of this secret society: farmers, merchants, and others planning to overthrow Balor and place Keriam on the throne.But how strong was this underground? And what were its chances of success? He could contribute much if he joined this society, but he already walked a thin line with his deception, serving as Balor's steward while hating the man he served, longing to overthrow him sometime soon. Best he didn't jeopardize his position.
The king smiled venomously. "Let's see how bravely Delbraith talks once he's captured--and he will be captured, never doubt it--when he is skinned alive."
Sacred shrine! Roric quelled a shudder, surprised by Conneid's temerity and fearful for his life. Always diffident and self-effacing, the former secretary had taken a huge chance, indeed, had risked his life, indulging in this seditious correspondence. Yet Roric gave him his due, full of admiration for Conneid's bravery, and for the man.
Afraid Balor's planned capture and torture of Delbraith was but a prelude of calamities to come, Roric mourned for Avador. For the present, he saw nothing he could do, no way to resist Balor's evil rule without inviting suspicion on himself.
But there would be a day of reckoning. He'd see to that.
Chapter Eighteen
Back at her shop on Perfume Lane, Radegunda tended to her last customer, tired after standing for so many hours, thankful her busy day was ending. Soon the sun would set and she could close her shop, tally up her sales. And a profitable day it had been--not counting the new taxes the king had imposed--well worth her aching joints.
"Oh, and I'll take a few of your soap bars, too," the customer--an elderly, well-dressed matron--said, looking over the counter display.
"Very good, madam, what would you like--lavender, lilac, chamomile?"
"Rose soap," she said, brushing a flea from her sleeve.
"Madam, I'm sorry I'm out of the rose, but I should have some tomorrow."
The customer scowled. "Well, two lavender soaps, then."
"Of course." After making change and setting the woman's purchases in a cheesecloth bag with thin leather handles--a little extra gift for her customers, made by a local craftsman-- Radegunda shifted her position as the woman left and closed the door. Behind her, shelves offered a tempting variety of herbal remedies--rosemary, valerian, yarrow tea, fennel, and many others. Miniature lilac, chamomile, and lavender topiaries attached to colorful ribbons hung from the ceiling, adding their pleasant scents to the room.
Her mind drifted in another direction, her thoughts on magic.
Ah, magic. Why, only look at how skilled she'd become in the art since her return from the palace. Born with innate magic, she had perfected her talent over the years. Not even her helper, Adsulata, knew of her special skills. She could best that sorceress Aradia any day. She still had much to learn, mind you, and she couldn't always practice in the room above her shop, for many of her spells were much too dangerous to initiate in such a small space. .
Hours later, while the rest of the city slept--except for the vagrants, pleasure women, and tavern patrons--Radegunda headed for an isolated place by the Nantosuelta River where no one would disturb her, a long walk for her sore feet but worth the effort. She looked warily in all directions, ever on the alert for criminals who prowled the city. Oak branches tossed in a cool wind, fallen leaves rustling on the cobblestones. She heard a tramp shuffling along the street in the distance, and hiding in the shadows of a sword shop, she waited until he traipsed off.
She passed many other shops along her route, finally reaching Aventina Way. After crossing the wide avenue, she traversed the plain and headed for the river, where clusters of trees lined both banks of the raging, frothing waters. She stood still, worried about any idlers that might lurk among the trees and bushes.
Certain she was alone, she removed her shoes and padded down to the riverbank, the sandy soil squishing between her toes. She stayed motionless for long moments, gathering all her strength and power within her, letting her spirituality flood her being.
Facing south, she raised her hand and chanted, "Hail, you who dwell in the temple of the brilliant ones, you beautiful rudder of the southern sky.
Grant me what I want
What I desire
Give me this wish
And give me fire!"
She flung her hand out, her fingers extended. A burst of fire erupted from her fingers, singing her skin, lighting the river with an amber glow. She dropped her hands to her side, and the flames disappeared. Blowing on her burnt fingers, she reminded herself to apply a healing salve when she returned home.
That spell was enough for tonight; she must conserve her magic and ration her power. Yes, she thought as she walked back to her shop, she was becoming quite skilled with magic. But she still had much to learn.
* * *
So many things can go wrong. After observing the coil of rope in the storage room recently, Keriam had planned her escape with care, allowing--she hoped!--for all eventualities. Since Balor had tripled the outside guard, she saw many difficulties ahead. Above all, no harmful recriminations must fall on any of the staff, once she was free of the palace.
No matter her duties--in the kitchen or the garden--Keriam schooled herself to act normally, and never by word or expression give herself away. The household staff remained loyal to her, despite their forced submission to Balor and Aradia. But how long could anyone withstand having their fingernails pulled out to gain information? Surely even the bravest man or woman would succumb.
