The Eighth Warden Bk. 04 Ch. 11-12

You are always in my thoughts,

Isabel, Lady Tarwen

"I suppose it was pointless to hope she wouldn't get excited about it," Corec said, handing the letter to Katrin. "I'll have to break it to her gently. If I tell her you and I are getting married, she might forgive me about not having a concubine. I should probably do that in person rather than by letter. After we've found a place to settle, I'll have to make a quick trip home."

He opened Branth's letter last. It was short and to the point.

Brother,

Cordaea? Why Cordaea? You'd never get me on a sailing ship. I like solid land beneath my feet.

I suppose Father and Mother have already told you about Marisa, and I know Father has mentioned the dairy farm I've started. It's seen some small success already, though I won't bore you with the details.

When are you planning to come home? Toman's turned into a royal arse, and I could use some decent company for a change. Just beware, Mother's constantly haranguing me about getting married. If she gets you within arrow's distance, you'll be on the chopping block as well.

Best of luck, little brother.

Branth Tarwen

Corec chuckled. Branth was the only member of his family who hadn't grown awkward around him after learning he was a mage. Seeing him might make the visit bearable.

"Should I go with you?" Katrin asked.

"Yes. Maybe you both should, so I can explain the mixup. They'll want to know who Treya is, and why I was having my mail sent to her."

Treya said, "Or you could take an actual concubine. Wouldn't that make them happier?"

Katrin furrowed her brow. "Before we're married? I think we should wait."

Corec blinked. That wasn't the argument he'd expected her to make. "I wasn't really planning on looking for a concubine anyway," he said.

Treya shrugged. "You don't have to look right now. There's a chapter house in Four Roads."

Katrin hid a grin behind her teacup.

"I don't know if I'd need a concubine in Four Roads," Corec said. He'd never considered the idea before, and he wasn't sure what Katrin's reaction meant. Sometimes she joked when she was uncomfortable about something.

"The mayor and most of the rich merchants have concubines," Treya said. "Four Roads doesn't have much in the way of high society, but we'll still need to maintain good relations, especially if we could be attacked at any time. You're hiring a dozen guardsmen, which will put you in charge of the largest armed force in the area, so we'll need to stay involved with the city government. Do you remember the drake? If there are local armed guards and mages, they'll call on us for that sort of thing rather than hiring mercenaries."

"That's more complicated than I was thinking," Corec admitted. "I should have paid more attention to my tutors back home." It sounded a lot like how Yelena and Hildra interacted with the people around them.

"That's what a concubine will help you with. She'll get to know everyone through the other concubines, and keep up the network of correspondence you and I have been talking about."

"But you were going to do that."

"We can work together. I'll keep in touch with people here—like Renny, so you and Ellerie can continue your relationship with the Senshall Trading Company. You might need to work with them again someday."

Katrin whispered something in Treya's ear. Treya shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"We don't have to decide right away," Katrin said to Corec. "Treya was already going to do most of those things, so we can talk about it again after we're married."

Corec nodded. That would give him time to figure out how Katrin really felt about the idea.

#

Yassi sighed at the image in her scrying orb—rows of ships at port. She couldn't hold back the information any longer.

She found Rusol in their private sitting room, practicing some sort of odd exercise with his elder magic. He poured water into a ceramic bowl, then concentrated for a moment to heat it until it started to boil. Then he summoned a gust of wind out of nowhere, blowing the hot liquid up out of the bowl in an arc toward the fireplace, but freezing it before it got there. The result was almost like snowing indoors. If it had been anyone else doing it, the sight would have delighted Yassi.

"You wanted to know when the newest warden was back in Aravor," she said, interrupting him. The warden had been hidden from Yassi's viewings for weeks, apparently behind wards that blocked Seeing, but he'd been coming steadily west ever since.

"Where is he now?" Rusol asked.

"Tyrsall, I think. A city with a port."

Rusol nodded. "Let me know if he stops anywhere. I'm not going to waste time sending hunters to chase him all around the globe. I'd rather find another warden who stays in one place. You haven't had any luck with the stoneborn woman or Emperor Kono?" He'd learned those bits of information from Leonis during their meetings at Northtower.

"It doesn't work like that," she reminded him. "I'm not a Seeker. I can't just See everything I want to see. We were lucky to find two of them so quickly." Even finding out that Kono was emperor of the seaborn people hadn't helped. The imperial palace—if it could be called that—wasn't blocked from Yassi's view, but she hadn't been able to find anyone who had the markings of a warden or a bondmate.

Rusol grunted. "At least you had better luck with the new wizards. I heard back from one of them this morning. He's reluctant to cross the border because of the Church, but he didn't turn me down completely. I'm going to send another letter doubling my original offer, and promising we won't do anything to raise the Church's suspicions."

Wizards were common in Matagor, and before Rusol had told her she could stop looking, Yassi had found seven of them that hired out their services. It had taken longer for Rusol to decide how to approach them, finally deciding to send letters under a fake identity, a wealthy merchant who lived in Telfort but who was hiring wizards to aid his business ventures in Westport, where magic wasn't illegal.

Yassi schooled her expression, trying to hold back tears. She'd just doomed another mage to a life of slavery, as either a bondmate or a hunter. It didn't really matter which—both choices would take away the fellow's ability to lead his own life as he saw fit.

Before she had to come up with a response, there was a wailing shriek from next door. The royal apartments.

Yassi exchanged a worried glance with Rusol, forgetting in that instant just how much she hated him, and then she followed him as he sprinted for the door.

By the time they reached the hall, the royal guards stationed outside the king's chambers had already flung the door open and run inside, their weapons drawn. Yassi and Rusol were close behind.

King Marten was sprawled face down across a rug in the center of his sitting room, not moving. A wine glass had fallen next to him, the last few drops spilling out onto the rug. Queen Merice was kneeling over him, still screaming incomprehensibly.

"Find Magnus!" Rusol snapped at one of the guards. The man ran off.

Merice's shouting turned to sobs. "No no no no no!" she managed to say. "He's not breathing! Make him breathe!"

Rusol grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "What happened?" he demanded.

"He ... he ... he said he missed Rikard, so I put some of my medicine in his wine, just like Sharra and Yassi do when I miss him. He's been away for so long!"

Yassi's blood went cold.

"Marten!" Sharra exclaimed as she ran into the apartment. She rushed to him and laid her palm over the back of his neck, then whirled on Merice. "I heard you from the hall, you stupid old whore. How much did you give him?"

"Th ... th ... three drams, like always!" Merice said through her tears.

"You idiot! You killed him!" Sharra advanced on the queen.

"No no no no no!" Merice repeated, scrambling backward.

Rusol stepped between the two of them, holding his mother off from attacking the other woman. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"We have to be careful with the dosage," Yassi explained. That was what Sharra had always told her. "The queen has been taking the medicine for five years. She needs a lot more now than she did at the beginning. But we never told her that. She only ever sees how much we give her."

Merice had crouched down, her face in her hands, as she shook her head wildly from side to side.

"She's a murderer!" Sharra shouted, trying to get around Rusol. "Arrest her!" she told the remaining guardsman.

"No!" Rusol said, taking an unsteady breath. "She was just trying to help." He looked down at his father. "Yassi, help me turn him over. I'll try healing him while we wait for Magnus. He should be ... Father will be fine."

What was he talking about? Rusol wasn't a priest; he couldn't heal anyone. He'd given her an order, though, and she had to obey. Despite his words, Rusol seemed nervous about touching Marten, but he grasped the king's shoulders while Yassi held his hip, and together, they managed to turn him over onto his back. And then they saw what Sharra had seen—Marten's face was tinged with blue, and bloody foam was leaking from the side of his mouth.

Rusol sat down on the floor with a thump. Yassi looked away from the body, finding herself staring at her husband, who seemed unable to pull his gaze away from his father.

Merice peeked at Marten's body, then hid her face again, sobbing more loudly than before. Sharra glared at the queen, but there were no tears in the concubine's eyes.

They all stayed in that frozen tableau, waiting for Magnus to arrive, everyone knowing he would be too late and would just confirm what Sharra had said. Yassi's stomach felt like a bottomless pit. What would happen next? She could see in her mind the priest coming in and telling them what they already knew, but then what?

Someone would have to deal with the body. For the death of a king, there would be rituals to follow. Cardinal Aldrich would know what to do. Would someone remember to tell him?

What would happen to Queen Merice? Or was she Queen Mother Merice now? No, that wasn't right—she wasn't Rusol's mother. And Rusol hadn't been crowned king yet anyway.

Rusol would be king. The pit in Yassi's stomach grew deeper. Would he be up to the task? He didn't have his father's intellect or experience. Nor did he have his compassion. Though compassion was an odd word to apply to Marten. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd had a practical understanding of reality.

What about Sharra? What happened to a concubine when her patron died? Would she tell everyone Merice was responsible for Marten's death? What was the penalty for regicide? Was it still regicide if it was an accident?

Random thoughts flitted through Yassi's mind as she tried to avoid looking at the dead man. She'd liked Marten. He'd been kind to her, unknowing of the worst of his son's excesses. Perhaps he should have known, but she couldn't fault him. He'd been too busy being the king.

Yassi would be queen. A title she didn't want.

Marten had always believed Larso was made up of different factions just waiting for any excuse to descend into chaos, and that it was his duty to preserve the stability of the kingdom. Yassi had once considered the political situation in Larso to be like a slow-moving avalanche. Was it about to pick up speed?

It seemed to take forever for Magnus to get to the royal apartments, and after that, everything was a blur.