Columbo Queen
"Forgive me," I told the three humans. "I had no idea this would happen."
" What would happen?" Westin growled. He, too, spread his hands, and blue lightning crackled from his palms. "What are you, some kind of monster?"
"No," I said, remembering what I'd learned in Shoachim's dungeon, "You might say I'm an avenging angel."
Analendra managed to push her cousin aside a bit. "You're not human, then?" she asked, from behind the mage's hips.
"No, but I'm not a threat, either. Mother Zel made sure of that, remember?"
"Did she?" Westin blinked furiously. "How can we be sure you didn't trick her -- or kill her?"
My hair had begun to stand on end from all the electricity in the room. "Do you have any sort of holy symbol around here?" I tried.
For a long moment, no one spoke; then Obed reached, reluctantly, into his mail shirt. Westin's eyes flicked sideways as the soldier pulled out a gold medallion. "Show it to me," the mage commanded. He peered at it for no more than a second, then nodded. "All right, then, throw it toward her."
The necklace landed about a foot from my feet. "Now, Lady," Westin grated, "pick it up -- slowly." As he spoke, he planted his feet a little further apart, like a gunfighter preparing for the draw.
I lowered myself to the carpet, fearing I'd be zapped at any moment. The chain felt cool in my sweating hand. I pulled it toward me, moving slowly so that the humans could see exactly what I was doing. When the medallion reached my fingers, I lifted it into my hand and closed my fist around it.
"Now let us see," the mage commanded.
I opened my palm. Westin shuffled closer to inspect the results. He frowned, then sniffed -- for brimstone and sulfur, perhaps? -- and finally let his own fire wane. "Well," he said slowly, "it appears you have told us the truth -- in one respect, at least."
I climbed to my feet. "I've told you the truth in all respects. When did I ever claim to be human?"
The mage's eyes widened, but Analendra cut him off before he could speak. "Very well, then, Kyriel; prove your truthfulness. Tell us what you really are."
There was no other way to do this than point-blank. I took a deep breath. "I'm a Fury," I told them, in a tone that dared anyone to object.
Westin sucked in a hiss, while Obed tightened his grip on his sword. "Many rumors exist about your kind," the Queen mused. She seemed less alarmed than the other two, but that might have just been a result of her illness.
I lifted my chin. "Do you believe everything you hear about yourself?"
For the second time, I caught a flicker of a smile from Obed, but I resisted the urge to return it. "I've passed your test and Mother Zel's; and I've done nothing but good in all the time I've been in Paraiyana. What else would you have me do to prove my intentions?"
For Westin, the question was anything but rhetorical, but again the Queen cut him off. "Well spoken, Fury," she chuckled. "We shall proceed with your assignment. Now that Westin knows your nature, he should be able to adjust his spell to compensate for the interference."
"Analendra!" the mage gasped, but the Queen merely held up a hand.
"Please, cousin," she said wearily, "do not tax me further. You know we have no other option."
Obed cleared his throat. "If I may, your graces -- " he began, and we all three turned to stare. The captain stood up a little straighter under our attention. "As a military man," he said carefully, "I am loathe to reject so powerful an ally. Besides, your majesty -- " and here he did smile -- "she has your memories now. We must either trust her or try to kill her. And I, for one, do not wish to battle a Fury."
Westin shot another glance at Analendra, then dropped his shoulders in defeat. "You have a point," he muttered. He took a moment to collect himself, then turned to face me. "We will proceed, then, Fury -- but only on two conditions."
I took a deep breath. "Name them."
"First, there will be no killing. Nerian and any cohorts must be returned to Selinnen for trial -- alive, and in reasonably good condition."
"Certainly."
The mage's jaw tightened. "And second, since your testimony will enter the court records, you must not betray your nature if there is any way to avoid it. Most especially, you must not shift form; if you do, you will destroy my spell and you will not be able to pass for Analendra again. Justice depends on your compliance with these terms. Will you swear to uphold them?"
"Justice," huh? Now that Westin knew what I was, he'd wasted no time in pushing my buttons. But it shouldn't be that hard to keep my Fury to myself for a few days. I clasped my hands behind my back and gave the formal Paraiyanan assent. "I do so swear."
The mage relaxed visibly. "Well, then," he said, "let us continue."
Nerian's estate, Red Crag, was only a day's ride from Selinnen. Obed and I set out alone, following Analendra's longtime habit, for she often paid surprise visits on the nobles of her realm. It kept them on their toes and out of trouble, the Queen said. Sometimes Westin would join the party, more out of concern for Analendra's safety than anything else; but just as often, she opted to trust her luck and take her chances. Freedom came rarely to royals; and if it cost her her life, she'd pay that price.
This time, of course, there was no question of Westin's joining us. He'd never have left the real Queen's side; and besides, we had to make the bait as tempting as possible. Having a mage in one's home tends to curb homicidal impulses.
Obed and I weren't entirely defenseless, however. Among our magical possessions were a healing balm and a pan-poison antidote (for Obed, not me), as well as a containment spell large enough to hold fifty adults. After all, we had to be certain we could cage all the rats we trapped.
Obed and I crested the final hill at mid-morning on the second day, having spent a peaceful night in the open countryside. The soldier, it seemed, had even more experience sleeping out-of-doors than I had. "There it is," he said, pointing down into a large, bowl-shaped valley.
Nerian's estate corresponded exactly with my implanted memories: a huge, red-rocked castle perched at the edge of a cliff overlooking muddy peasant fields. The Count's treatment of his tenants had actually been one of the chief reasons behind his falling out with Analendra. Paraiyanan law gave landholders a great deal of freedom in governing their estates; but when the Queen, seeing how her lover abused the privilege, sought to tighten the laws, he rallied the support of the other nobles and voted down her reforms. So much for democratic monarchy, I thought.
As we paused on top of the hill, I reached for my face one last time, feeling the high, rounded cheekbones and flattened nose. My hand was the color of dark honey, my fingernails sculpted gold. "How do I look?" I asked nervously.
Obed's expression barely changed. "Like the Queen," he answered flatly. I'd only asked the question twenty times since Westin cast his spell. "Are you ready?"
"I suppose you could call it that." Sighing, I drew my hood over my head -- hiding a different face than ever before. My guardian did likewise, and then we rode down into the peasant village.
As they met us, the peasants presented a thousand variations on a single theme: poverty. The Fury prowled restless inside me as I stared across hundreds of grubby faces, wasted limbs, and weary eyes. Several times, peasants crossed the road just ahead of us, moving slowly enough to hamper our progress, but not slowly enough to stop it outright. They might not have recognized their Queen, but they knew nobility well enough when they saw it -- and what they knew, they hated.
No one actually challenged us, however, and as we reached the palace gates, a trio of guards snapped to attention. Obed and I drew back our hoods at the same moment, earning a start of surprise from the soldiers. "Queen Analendra," gasped the nearest, bowing almost to the ground. "We are honored."
I favored her with a regal nod, secretly wondering if she was more surprised to see me, or to see me alive. Just how many of Nerian's people were in on his scheme?
Obed and I waited in uncomfortable silence while the captain sent word to Nerian. Ideally, we would have preferred to walk in on the Count unannounced, but that just wasn't done in Paraiyana. Nerian would have known we were onto him in an instant. On the other hand, if he believed I'd been away from the palace for the last week, making my rounds, he'd have a ready-made excuse for the failure of his plan.
By the time the trumpets sounded, some thirty minutes later, our horses had grown restive and even Nerian's guards seemed embarrassed on our behalf. Obed and I exchanged glances; one didn't keep the Queen waiting without reason, and in Nerian's case, the reason could hardly be of benefit to us. I sat up a little straighter in the saddle, drawing a preparatory breath.
A moment later, the inner doors swung open and my adversary stepped through. Although I'd never seen him before in the flesh, his face was more familiar to me than my own -- at least, more familiar than the face I wore now. Tall for a Paraiyanan, with piercing eyes, a square face and squarer shoulders, Nerian practically oozed machismo from the pores. His lips curled a fraction as he caught my eye: remembering some bed-bound liaison, no doubt. What had Analendra seen in this arrogant twit, anyway? I gave him a cool stare as he bowed before me, murmuring the obligatory greeting. "As always, my Queen, I am delighted by your presence in my home."
Smirk all you want, asshole, I thought. You never had me, and you never will. "How very kind of you, Nerian," I replied, neglecting his title purely for spite. He wouldn't dare respond in kind, no matter how much he hated me. Adding insult to injury, I held out my hand toward the Count, making him personally help me down from my mount. "And who's this?" I asked as my feet touched pavement. His two pages I recognized from Analendra's memories, but the woman at his side was a stranger. An angular blonde with ice blue eyes, she obviously hadn't come from Paraiyana.
Nerian practically grinned. "My dearest Queen," he answered, dropping my hand to take that of the newcomer, "may I present to you the Lady Minesa, my new advisor." He stroked her palm as if it were a kitten.
Minesa's lips curled into a perfect imitation of her Count's. "A pleasure," she purred. "Nerian has told me so much about you." Her eyes, meeting mine, telegraphed the extent of their relationship in clearest terms. "Although, I must admit, I never expected to meet you in the flesh."
"I don't know why not," I answered, feigning innocence. Privately, though, I thought, If this woman isn't involved in the poisoning, I'll hang up my dagger. "Nerian must have told you about my little tours."
"I suppose," Minesa answered with calculated distraction. "Well, I imagine you must be tired after your journey. Just how long have you been on the road, your majesty?"
"Eight days now," I answered, content to let her off the hook in exchange for such a perfect opening for my "alibi." Now, if I could just find a way to tell them of Yaris' death, they'd believe they really were back to square one. "I can't wait to get unpacked and wash up."
"Of course," Nerian answered smoothly. "I remember how much you enjoy our hot baths." He slipped an arm around Minesa's waist and led the way inside.
Analendra always took the same suite in Nerian's castle, a spacious bedroom-bathroom arrangement with a small outer chamber for Obed's use. Since her last visit, however, the suite had been remodeled. The traditional Paraiyanan silks had given way to dark, heavy fabric, while the northern wall sported intricately carved wooden screens in place of the remembered tapestries. "I hope you like the new furnishings," Nerian remarked as I stepped warily into the room. "Minesa talked me into redecorate with items from her homeland. She's from Forsten in the far North."
Most Paraiyanans, Analendra included, had barely heard of Forsten; but I'd learned a bit more, and none of it good, in my travels. Well, I thought, running my hand along the painted wood, at least they know their art. Tiny figures of men and women, dogs and horses, twined together with dragons and more fantastical creatures -- themselves interwoven with leafy, rambling vines. Colorful lacquer accented the details. Of course, Nerian could hardly have redecorated just for my comfort. I half expected to pick up a poisoned splinter for my efforts.
It was only later that I realized the true purpose of the screens. Alone at last, undressing for my bath, I stood before the full-length bathroom mirror and examined my borrowed body. Running a hand along my jawline, I remembered the ache of transformation, the worry of losing my self. Would a flash of Fury really undo these bone-deep changes? The spell seemed terribly solid.
My thoughts were interrupted by a tiny sound, so faint no human would have heard it: a scritch of boot on pavement. Willing myself to stillness, I studied the reflection of the room in the mirror, searching in vain for an intruder. But the bathroom had only one entrance and the walls were solid rock; only magic could have hidden a secret door along their length...magic, or an intricate wooden screen. The royal suite lay along the outer wall of Nerian's castle, three floors up. On the south side, the rooms sported huge glass windows and a magnificent view of the mountains; but on the north, solid rock separated Analendra's suite from Nerian's own. At least, I had assumed the rock was solid. Now I began to imagine the glint of an eyeball deep in one of the recesses of the carving. Nerian could be watching me right now, I thought, and gritted my teeth against the urge to cover up. Anything he saw wasn't really me, I reminded myself; and besides, he'd seen all before anyway. I could almost make myself believe I didn't care.
"I hope you enjoyed your bath, highness," Nerian purred as he ushered us into the dining room.
"Quite," I answered, perhaps a bit icily. I still hadn't found an opportunity to warn Obed about the spy-holes, or to ask his advice on the matter. We'd had no time alone except in our rooms, which neither of us would have trusted for free speech anyway. And now that I'd seen the cleverness of our watchers in action, I wondered if any spot on the palace grounds were truly safe.
Obed pulled out my chair and, as I sat down, let his fingers brush across my back. I know -- spies, he signaled, using the secret tap-code which had been in Analendra's family for centuries. Smart man, I thought, rapping a quick acknowledgment on his thigh. I hadn't used the code with him in our rooms because the motions weren't subtle enough to fool the watcher; he might not have known what we were saying, but he'd have known we weren't quite as ignorant as we appeared. And that, of course, would sour the bait...a concept I hated more by the second. Obed seated himself by my side and I gave him a brief, appreciative nod.
The meal appeared a course at a time, trotted in by a silent wait staff who vanished into the woodwork the moment their job was done. I tensed each time Obed tried a new dish, half afraid that this one would contain the killer. Chresta only knew if I could administer an antidote in time -- or if it would work. Without a sample of the actual poison used on Analendra, Westin and the healer had made most of their preparations in the dark.
Obed, meanwhile, tucked his food away with stony indifference. If it worried him to function as a human barometer, he hid it well. I'm probably more afraid for his life than he is, I thought. How strange, to feel so protective of the man assigned to guard me.
"I trust all is well in Selinnen?" Nerian queried as we worked our way into the main course. Minesa looked up for a moment from her pheasant, her eyes glinting in the torchlight.
"More or less," I answered, fingering my wineglass and trying to look slightly downcast. If they were probing for news of Yaris, I'd be glad to oblige; but I couldn't appear too eager to spill my guts.
"No governmental crises, no succession scandals?" Nerian quirked his lips to be sure I'd think he was joking.
"Oh no," I demurred, and exchanged a subtle glance with Obed. His stoicism played nicely into my act. No one who looked that serious could possibly be happy.
"Ah, then everything must be perfectly well." The count favored me with the kind of smile that said, I know as well as you do that something's wrong, and if I just play along for a few moments, you give in and tell me the truth.
Irked by his condescension, I declined the bait until Minesa laid a hand on his. "Nerian, dear -- " she murmured, like a mother correcting an errant child.
Well, that was even worse than the Count's smug smile. Better spill your guts now, Kyriel, before she really gets going. "There's been a death in the palace," I blurted. "One of my oldest and best-loved servants."
"Oh dear." Nerian favored me with a sympathetic frown. "May I ask who it was?"
Thank you, Chresta! I cast my eyes downward. "Yaris, my wine steward," I told them. "He seems to have killed himself."
"How awful!" Minesa exclaimed. "Does anyone know why?"
"No, he didn't leave a note." I paused, then added, just for good measure, "It happened almost a month ago." Well, that should give the conspirators some food for thought. Pretending to collect myself, I flashed a brave smile. "But let's talk of other things, shall we? I'd like to know how you two met."
The lovers locked eyes -- reluctant to leave the subject of Yaris' death, or reluctant to answer my question? After a moment the Count spoke. "Oddly enough," he answered slowly, "I bought her at a slave auction."
I gasped; slavery was very much illegal in Paraiyana. But the Count cut me off before I could deliver the proper reprimand. "I beg your indulgence, majesty. I bought her in Southern Forsten and freed her the moment we crossed the border; in fact, I purchased her for that exact purpose."
Yeah, right. Nerian, the heroic liberator? Sure, and I'm a real queen. "I see," I raised a skeptical eyebrow, "and after that, I suppose she decided to stay with you out of sheer gratitude?"
Minesa took Nerian's hand and smiled placidly. "Out of gratitude, yes, your majesty -- but also out of love. And now we've been together for almost two years."
Their eyes met and I resisted the urge to roll mine. Ridiculous as the story sounded, it must contain a grain of truth. After all, Nerian and Minesa had nothing to gain by pretending she'd been a slave, if she really hadn't. But I couldn't believe love alone kept her with Nerian; she must be angling for power. He was next in line for the throne, after all. As for the Count himself, his motives were harder to discern. In two year's time, he'd elevated this woman from slave to personal advisor. Why?
Then there was a third issue, perhaps the hardest to resolve. Analendra couldn't have known it, but Forsteners only sold criminals into slavery. What, then, had been Minesa's crime?
