Tinderbox, page 11
“Is Lord Browaing’s name true?”
“No,” Minuet said. “But he chose a kobold name from centuries ago. He feels it’s insulting to separate ourselves from our true names.”
They continued, passing under an archway to a central hub that branched off in eight different directions. This area served as a social meeting place. The din of conversation lowered as they passed. There were no seats but many circular wooden tables on tall thin stems, on which people leaned and placed drinks and various samplings of food served on silver trays.
“Since you have gained advance permission to have your say to the Council, you needn’t wait with the others.” Minuet motioned with a wave to the room behind them. “We have prepared a waiting room for you.”
Chapter Eleven
The relative solitude of the waiting room relaxed Bram. The gazes, some disapproving, from the denizens of Underneath made him squirm like a child awaiting an unpleasant parental encounter.
Bram took a seat on one end of a stuffed couch, where he sank his rather tense muscles into the cushions. The queen and Briwyn sat in the two available chairs. After a few moments’ hesitation, Isbet sat on the other end of the couch.
Minuet inclined her head. “I would recommend that you not leave this room until they summon you.”
“We won’t, Revered Mother, and thank you again,” Briwyn responded.
“What will happen?” Bram asked once they were by themselves. He had seen enough of council meetings in his day to learn that one misspoken word could cause a long and bloody war.
“I will speak for us if they call us before the Court,” Briwyn said. “I would advise against speaking out of turn and to only answer questions asked of you.”
“Yes, of course,” Bram said. He’d not intended to speak at all unless spoken to, let alone out of turn.
“We hope that they will focus on Briwyn and we may make our request,” the queen said. “Their decision may not be immediate, and they may make us wait here.”
Bram found little comfort in her words. Isbet spoke, drawing Bram away from his thoughts. “Do not worry, my prince, we will protect you.”
“Triune,” Bram muttered, his face heating from both embarrassment and shock. Isbet had made a jest. Bram didn’t believe it possible.
Their wait was not as long as he expected.
Minuet returned, stating, “It is time.”
Bram figured it was best to let the ladies take the lead, and he followed behind Isbet.
They traversed another less opulent hall but still the twisted limbs of the Vine formed a vaulted ceiling above them. The corridor ended at a set of curved double doors. Shards of smoked glass in various shapes and sizes made windows between gaps in the tangle. Once again, Bram found himself amazed, not at the architecture but at the terrible beings that stood guard.
Yet more of the many beasts of legend, the two balanced themselves on their serpentine tails, which curled beneath them, their scales polished. The powerful torsos were protected by breastplate and cuirass. Although they were soldiers, their faces held a defined nobility. Their eyes sent a shiver across Bram’s skin; snake-like, their pupils were like slits in the dim light, within a yellow opalescence. Clawed hands gripped the shafts of their weapon of choice – a poleax.
Naga. Bram didn’t dare say the word aloud.
They needed no instruction as Minuet approached them. With the barest inclination of her head as a command, the two moved with a sinuous grace afforded their kind and opened the doors.
At first, Bram saw nothing; the room appeared shrouded from floor to ceiling in fog. Bram supposed his eyes needed time to adjust, like from darkness to light. After a few moments he began to discern shadows taking form.
A line of them appeared as wraiths but as more time passed, he could see they were mortals, draped in hooded robes of royal blue. They sat at a long table, but Bram could not make out much else. Two more shadows stirred a few steps behind the tables and he realized they were also naga. They moved back and forth with a graceful, steady motion.
It was then that Bram saw Minuet was no longer with them, but soon another shadow joined the silent group. Continuing to follow Briwyn’s example, Bram stood quietly between the queen and Isbet. Briwyn took three deliberate steps and bowed low. Bram and the others followed suit. Bram thought it was no surprise that these three women found curtsying not to be their fancy.
“I am Briwyn Galil, Lady Duchess, and cousin to Her Majesty, Queen Aimeli of Galith,” Briwyn said. “I give greetings and thanks to you, the Shadow Court, for granting us this audience.”
The hooded figure at the center of the group gave a slight nod. “You are our honored guests in our land, Lady Briwyn Galil.” The female voice held an air of quiet strength. “Let’s come to the point. You wish permission to examine the Vine. To what end?”
Bram had the sense that the hooded leader was aware why, but he supposed she had asked for her own reasons.
“The Vine is the keeper of all life in the Riven Isles,” Briwyn responded. “It binds us all together as one, Overworlder and Underlander. The Vine is the source of our power and keeps our lands in balance. There are outside forces that have used the Vine for their own ends. They corrupt and distort its true purpose. This is a great insult to you and your people as keepers of the Vine.”
Another nod and Briwyn took that as permission to continue, for she said, “We wish to find the culprits and halt their egregious actions. They are putting not only our world in danger but yours. Also, think of those beings of the dark, the denizens that the Vine keeps from your royal court. We know they are stirring from their imprisoned sleep and will seek to destroy you.”
Bram didn’t like the sound of that. There were many tales of those creatures from the deepest parts of Underneath. They dwelled in the rotting decay beneath the Vine’s roots, feeding on death and misery.
“And do you not believe that we can handle our own affairs?”
The voice came not from one of the hooded figures. Bram hadn’t seen the person who stood just to the left, a few steps away from the table, his body shrouded like those of the naga guards.
Briwyn opened her mouth to reply when the center figure raised her hand. “Serval.” She spoke the name in rebuke.
“Majesty.” Serval balled his fists. “I have a right to an answer. We have a right—”
“You do not hold sway in this council.” The voice was still calm but the command in it was clear.
“I have the right by blood and birth to speak. To request the respect I am due.”
Now that Bram saw better, he recognized him as the Dokkalfar that had pulled Minuet aside in the hall. Hadn’t Minuet said he had little say in such matters? He guessed further that the central figure was his sister, the queen.
“And has Lady Briwyn disrespected you?”
“She disrespects us all by claiming that we are incapable of handling our own affairs.”
“I don’t recall Lady Briwyn even hinting at such a thing,” the queen continued. “However, Lady Briwyn, is it safe to assume that was not your intent?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Briwyn replied. “In fact, we have asked so we do not interfere with any plans you may have while we investigate.” Briwyn drew in a deep breath, inclined her head. “We ask that you allow us, so we may save lives.”
The members of the council conversed in whispers. Bram noticed that Serval stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The longer the whispers went on, the more tense the young man became. Bram could see it in the rigidness of his stance.
The queen’s attention returned to Briwyn. “The council will retire and discuss the matter and advise you of our decision. We will summon you here again.”
Briwyn bowed low again and they followed. “Thank you, Majesty. We await your decision.”
They stood there as the queen rose and the council filed out. Serval, however, lingered and Bram realized with much discomfort that the man’s gaze was on him. Bram’s first impulse was to look away but that would have been a sign of weakness. When one naga moved in front of him, it spared Bram any further incident by blocking Serval’s view. Two more of the scaly beasts did the same, each bowing to Briwyn and the other women.
The obvious leader of the group spoke. “I am Azai, captain of the queen’s personal guard. She has entrusted me with your safety.”
“Triune,” Bram muttered and wondered why they deserved such an important official.
Azai turned to him and his lips upturned in a slight smile. “Do not fret, Highness, I take my duties with great regard.”
Bram returned the smile. He had expected Azai and his people to be cold and aloof, but this man had shared a confidence that was meant to amuse and reassure. He noticed the women were also smiling and as always, that brought warmth to Bram’s face.
“We have arranged separate accommodations for each of you. I hope you find them to your satisfaction.”
“I am sure we will, Captain Azai,” Briwyn said.
“My comrades will stand guard at the hallway entrance to your chambers,” Azai continued. “Please request any help you need from them.”
“Thank you.”
The room given to Bram had the usual comforts and suited his style, as though the architect seemed to know that he liked dark woods and colors, warm brick facades and serviceable furniture. Bram shunned the great opulence that befitted his station. There was a nagi – Bram learned this was the female equivalent of a naga – who waited on him and was both dangerous and beautiful, her lower half glistening and black. He invited her to sit with him for a while. He learned her name was Timai and he enjoyed a conversation and the light repast with her as he settled in a comfortable leather chair, his feet resting on a stool.
Bram would have liked to explore once Timai left him but set aside that idea. He was still too unfamiliar with this world to want to risk stepping into some forbidden place or insulting one of its denizens. Bram chose a book, in the common tongue, from one of the many that lined a set of shelves against a far wall. It was the author’s version of Underneath’s creation, the same story they’d discussed at Browaing’s home earlier about how the farm boy Jack had used the Vine to climb Up Above and learn the secrets of the race of giants.
The Woodsman’s Ax was famous in its role and found its way in to many other stories of good over evil, including that of the Maiden in Scarlet. A lycanth had kidnapped her to consume her soul, having already done so to her grandmother. There was the tale of the good queen who knew her wicked stepdaughter was a witch bent on taking her father’s throne but could not get her husband to believe her, so her loyal guardsmen had taken the mighty weapon, hunted her down, and disposed of her.
Bram loved these stories of heroes protecting the innocent. He’d been like that once. Bram banished these thoughts for they took him down a dark road. He chose instead to continue to read until his eyes became heavy.
Bram was dozing when a polite knock came. Bram didn’t know how much time had passed, since he had no sense of such things so far under the ground.
It was a naga. “Your Highness, the council has once again summoned you into their presence if you would please to follow me.”
“Certainly.”
His female companions already awaited him in the hallway. They greeted him with smiles and nods that Bram returned. They seemed ready and calm. He had to commend them on that because he was shaking in his boots, as the saying went.
They did not speak as they returned to the room where the Shadow Court had gathered. The figures sat in their places again and Bram saw someone hovering in the background, who he figured was Serval. The doors closed behind them. There was a brief pause before the queen spoke. “We, the Shadow Court, grant your request.”
It took everything Bram had not to release a sigh. The women had also kept their reaction to themselves, but relief was plain on Briwyn’s face as she stepped forward and bowed. “Thank you, we are in your debt.”
“That you are,” the queen said. “We do not give this consent without serious consideration. Will you, Briwyn, and your royal cousin of Chira agree to our demands? One favor and you will consent with no argument?”
“Yes.”
It sounded to Bram like they had already decided. His eyebrows knitted as he wondered, was he included in this agreement? He doubted Wilhelm would do the leaders of Underneath any favors. As uncomfortable as it might be, he needed to make this clear to Briwyn and Queen Aimeli.
“Very well.” For the first time, Bram saw her fingers, long and slim, when she steepled them outside the sleeves of her robe. “Then this pact with the people of Underneath and rulers of Chira is established. We will discuss this matter further and come to agree on how you should repay your debt. Until then, please—”
“Your pardon, Majesty?”
All attention went to Serval as he stepped in front of the table where all could see him. “I have my own stipulations for this agreement. Am I not afforded that right as a member of the royal family?”
“This is between this Court and Chira.”
“Will you strip me of all my rights? To have my pride thrown aside like so much waste? Majesty, I demand what is my due.”
“You demand?” The queen’s voice hardened.
One figure next to her leaned over and whispered something to her. After a moment, the queen nodded. “Very well, Prince Serval, what is it you desire?”
His next words shocked Bram into stunned immobility.
“I want the prince,” Serval said. “I lay claim to Prince Bram Greyward.”
Bram clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. He took a single step forward and opened his mouth to say – well, things that a father of the cloth shouldn’t say – when he felt slim fingers close around his arm. Isbet’s grip, solid and powerful, halted him. He would have never guessed she was that strong, but as her fingers pressed against his skin, leaving marks, Bram was sure of it.
The queen was silent for much longer than Bram would have liked, and when she spoke, his heart fell into his stomach. “I will grant the request of Prince Serval.” Isbet’s grip tightened. Bram thought she might break the skin. “Unless, by our laws, one of you lay claim to him.”
Isbet released him and it was as though an even greater connection ended. She stepped forward, next to Lady Briwyn, and bowed as the older woman had. “I do, Majesty,” Isbet said. “I lay claim to Prince Greyward.”
Chapter Twelve
Bram felt it better to keep his own counsel as the naga escorted them back to their rooms. He was about to leave them when Queen Aimeli said, “Highness, if you would join us for a moment?”
Oh, I’ll join you, and you’d better damn well explain yourselves. Bram would never speak such things aloud.
They’d stonewalled him in the council chambers, Aimeli and Briwyn moving to either side of him as Isbet made her declaration. Serval made his feelings clear on the matter until an admonishment from his sister caused him to move back in the shadows to sulk. Bram didn’t give an ass damn. What he wanted was these women to explain themselves.
“Please sit.” They had retired to the parlor in the queen’s room and she motioned him to a chair. Bram didn’t take it, although by all protocols that was insulting the queen. He was barely keeping hold of his civility at this point.
Bram went to the sideboard, poured a glass of red wine, and took a healthy swallow. “So, what is this about?” Bram made a sweeping gesture with the goblet. “Why am I being bandied about like a prized bull at auction?”
Aimeli folded her hands in her lap, her eyes downcast.
Briwyn responded. “We had hoped this would not occur. We noticed Serval’s attention on you when we were in the hallway, but we never thought he would act on it.” She released a long breath. “The laws, as I’m sure you know, are different here. We are fortunate that women hold sway, otherwise we would have lost you to them.”
“I still don’t understand,” Bram said. “They expected me to just give myself up?”
“You wouldn’t have a choice,” Briwyn said. “Serval would have taken you by force, and what do you suppose Wilhelm’s response would be? We could not attempt a rescue, not without endangering our pact and the lives of our people.”
“And the pact is more important than my one life.” Bram supposed he shouldn’t have let himself sound so bitter.
“If there was any other way, we would have taken it.” The queen raised her eyes to gaze at him. “But yes, protecting our people takes priority, as it does with you.”
Bram knew she spoke the truth. He thought about his sworn oath to protect the common people. As for Wilhelm, Bram could well imagine what his response would have been. Bram’s abduction would be considered an act of war.
“My apologies,” Bram said. “Yes, you must think of your people.”
“The only way to prevent Serval from having you would be if another female claimed you,” Briwyn said. “I could not because I am married and although Aimeli could have done so, we did not want to take the risk that Serval would challenge her as she is not one of the Gifted. And again, they would take you.”
Bram said, “So Isbet was the logical choice.” For the first time, he looked at the young witch. Unlike Briwyn and Aimeli, she wasn’t in the least bit contrite. She kept that damnable calm of hers that raised his ire. “So Isbet, how do you feel about all of this?”
“We discussed and agreed upon it.” Isbet rose and moved to the sideboard to pour her own wine.
“So, you all decided upon this without consulting me?”
“And what would your answer have been if we had?” Isbet took a sip of the wine, her eyes assessing him over the cup.
Bram found he couldn’t lie to her. There was something in her gaze that told him she would know. “I would have refused to cooperate.”
