I
Kallinesha
"Don't slink," Kallinesha said. Her head hurt, but she could still follow Taylendar's movements, even though he'd been wearing the ring for ten minutes. She'd poured more of her essence into it than she ever had before, taken too much precious time to weave the spell, but still it might not be enough. "Just walk normally. Nothing to attract attention." The curtain behind him billowed in the breeze and she lost track of his figure. "Better." When she blinked, there he was again, smiling broadly. "Don't grin like an idiot."
He scowled.
"Don't do that either."
"This is never going to work. They're guards. Their whole job is to ferret out threats. They're not going to simply overlook us."
"They will if you just act invisible and let the silly little beauties downstairs do the rest."
"I still say you should cast a disguise on us," Taylendar insisted. "In servants' uniforms we'll be even more invisible."
"If I'm wearing a servant's uniform and a different face, I won't be able to order my way into audience with the King, now will I? I need to be the High Commander's daughter."
"Change your clothes after we get inside. Touch the chain to return your appearance."
He was right. She should have done disguise enchantments in the first place. She was good at them. But she'd been so angry. Too angry to realize she shouldn't try to do everything Ista could. If the selfish girl were here, those rings would make their wearers impossible to detect. If Ista had returned with her careless, undisciplined power, Kallinesha wouldn't have this pulsing headache, these flaccid limbs that refused to move as quickly as her mind demanded. She should have cast disguise enchantments, but now it was too late. She'd acted on impulse, and spent far too much power trying to enchant those rings. Impulse makes a terrible commander, her father always said. But then again, her father made a terrible high commander, so why should she listen to any of his rules?
"Just give me a beaky nose or something," Taylendar said, slipping into sight again, as if he'd stepped from behind a pillar. He didn't seem to understand how draining magic could be. She had to start conserving energy. There was no way to know how much she'd need later, and with Ista halfway across town, there was no one to help.
Someone knocked.
"Shh," she hissed at Taylendar, then opened the door a crack.
"We're ready," Ryveld said. In servant's garb he looked much less imposing. "The young ladies have finished their cider and everyone's in appropriate garb."
She opened the door more fully, beckoning him in. She cast a glance behind her. The room looked empty. "Do you know where Protectoret Taylendar is?" she asked.
"I thought he was in here with you." Ryveld's gaze swept the room. "He's not downstairs."
Triumph burned away some of her weariness. If Ryveld couldn't see Taylendar even when he was expecting him and knew what to look for, then her spell was stronger than she thought. The guards, expecting nothing, would see nothing. "It'll work," she called.
Ryveld stepped backwards, his eyes fixed on the wall near the bed, where a knothole the size of a fist bled rings of color, very much in the shape of Gaidella. "You're wearing the ring," Ryveld accused the wall.
She squinted. Yes, a flash of color. A bent elbow near the knothole. Not just an elbow. All of Taylendar, leaning casually against the wall.
He grinned. "Suppose I don't need a hooked nose after all. Let's go."
Ryveld looked at her. "Well done." Why should he sound so surprised? Ista wasn't the only one who could work powerful magic. She eased on her own ring, but Ryveld didn't break eye contact. She relaxed her expression and his gaze drifted away, to something past her left shoulder. When he tried to find her again, he swore. "You'll drive a man crazy like this." His eyes roved back and forth across her, unseeing. She smiled and after a moment his eyes locked with hers. "Well done," he repeated, unblinking, as if afraid to lose sight of her again. "But could you take them off until we get there? It's rather unsettling."
II
Ista
The Znemya mage reminded her of Kalli: so sure he was right, so blunt in his commands. He'd set her grinding nutshells, a job anyone could do. Yet here she was, doing it without protest. If he didn't need her real skills, maybe she should have gone with Kalli after all. Where was she now? Getting ready to meet the King? Explaining the High Mage's treachery? Presenting the King with the chain?
Maybe they'd already succeeded. Maybe Mistress's suffering was worth it. She ground the nutshells harder.
III
Kallinesha
Ryveld's man, the one who had found the girls, walked with one on each arm. Garen, she thought his name was. In the uniform borrowed from Taylendar's man, he looked the part of a brash young soldier on top of the world, unconcerned about the guards who barred his way. Taylendar had already slipped on his ring. Who knew where he was? Ryveld and the others were all dressed as her father's servants and wore humble expressions, heads bowed slightly, raising their eyes only enough to cast longing looks at the laughing girls.
She'd cast a simple glamour on them—not so difficult with such pretty, lively subjects. A sprinkle of crushed butterfly wings while their backs were turned, a touch on the arm, long enough for her to work her magic, and suddenly Ryveld's gaze followed their every move, and the man on whose arm they walked preened like an idiot.
"Remember," she whispered to the girls, "The guards like a little harmless flirting." Somewhere Taylendar was probably wishing he was one of the guards. She unwrapped the ring and slid it on her finger.
Garen led them out of the side street and into view of the palace. Finally, a bit of luck. The guards had not yet changed. They'd fall victim to these silly girls who had no idea they were in for anything besides a tour of the palace and a flirt with handsome soldiers. The girls smiled winningly at all the stares they attracted, giggling into their handkerchiefs, while Kallinesha tried not to show her disdain. She focused on clearing her face of emotion, regulating her pace, doing nothing to draw attention.
The guards swung their halberds into challenge position, but if the slobbering smiles they gave the girls were any indication, the challenge came from habit, not suspicion.
"State your business," the most attractive guard said, making the order sound friendly, inviting almost.
"We're here for a tour," the one girl answered, then blushed scarlet at her own presumption. It made her look even more fetching. She glanced sheepishly at Garen, who only smiled indulgently. Curses. He had to keep alert.
"And what's a wildflower like you most looking forward to seeing?" the handsome guard asked.
The girl, impossibly, turned even redder.
"The ballrooms, the gardens, the King's reception hall, the circle of mirrors," listed the other one. "The grotto." She stepped closer, gazing up through full eyelashes. "They say it's lit by enchanted flames. I wish you could show it to me." If Kallinesha had created these two from her own imagination, they couldn't have been more perfect.
The guard stepped backward, tripping over his own feet. "Just regular oil lamps in the grotto, Miss." He adjusted his fingers on his halberd.
"Do you have an invitation?" asked another guard, but he hesitated over the words, his freckled face fixed on the girls.
"We come from the household of the High Commander."
The guards straightened up. "Of course. Can I see your papers?"
Garen handed them over to the freckled one. The documents belonged to one of Taylendar's men, setting forth his status in the King's army. The guard glanced at them. "What about the rest of you?" He gestured at the other four men they could see, all dressed in her father's colors.
"They're servants of the High Commander. My papers cover them."
"You may all have to wait here while we clear it with the subcommander," he said.
A flash of silver past Ryveld caught Kallinesha's eye. She stared hard at the spot, summoning up the clearest image possible of Taylendar. There he was, his dagger drawn. No one else seemed to have seen him. She crept behind the group, refusing to look away from the dagger. The rest of him faded and blurred at the edges of her vision. "Relax," she whispered in his ear. He jerked, swinging the dagger on instinct toward the perceived threat. She jumped back as the dagger whizzed past her gut and then disappeared again.
"What was that?" One of the guards demanded, his voice sharp, like a guard's should be. "There."
Kalli dared a glance. The man pointed in their direction.
"May I ask the reason for this delay?" Garen asked, his eyes finally pulled from the blushing sirens at his side. "I believe my papers are in perfect order."
The guards still stared in Kallinesha's direction.
Taylendar had slipped out of sight again. "Don't move," she whispered, while Garen spoke on about the sun being bad for the young ladies' complexions, and how the High Commander would be displeased to hear of the unwarranted delay. She put her hands out, feeling for Taylendar. Her fingers lit on an arm. She followed it down to the hand that held the dagger, then pried it from his fingers and slowly lowered it, hiding it in her skirts.
Finally the guards returned their attention to Garen and the girls, who beamed with the pleasure of such excitement. Kallinesha let out her breath. Hah. Her spell had fooled four guards. Ista herself couldn't have done any better.
"We don't want to hurt such beautiful skin," the handsome guard said with a brilliant smile, seemingly having forgotten any threats. He grabbed the papers from the other and gave them a brief inspection. "Tell you what: when my duty ends, let me buy you two some cider to make up for the inconvenience. After your tour, of course."
"Let us all buy it for you," corrected another guard eagerly.
The girls giggled, asking if everyone at the palace was so polite, and murmuring other nonsense.
The handsome one swept his hands toward the gate in welcome and stepped out of the way. Garen and the girls had only taken three steps when the freckled guard sprang forward.
He twirled his halberd in both hands and lunged blindly with the bare staff. It swung in a giant arc toward Kallinesha. Something—Taylendar—shoved her out of the way, and the staff cracked against what must have been his legs. She stumbled backwards, knocking into someone behind her. One of the girls screamed.
"Hey, where did you come from?" a harsh voice demanded.
They were all staring at Kallinesha.
Ryveld. It was him she'd bumped. Him and the chain. So much for the enchantment.
"Magic," hissed freckle-face. "I knew it."
She tightened her hold on Taylendar's dagger, while Ryveld's hands steadied her.
"Drop your weapons," another guard ordered. "All of you."
"It's the High Commander's daughter!"
She stood up straight. "I am Protectoressa Kallinesha Rhaelenor of Gaidella and Illandri. And I have never seen such a shameful display as this."
Freckle-face swung his halberd around so the blade pointed straight at her.
"Commander Rhaelenor will have your head," the handsome one hissed at him. "Put the weapon down."
She gave her defender a smile that worked just as well as the glamour she'd placed on their unwitting accomplices. "At least one of you has sense."
He moved toward the halberd-wielder, as if to disarm his own comrade, but his target sidestepped and shouted, "By order of the High Mage, you are to be detained."
So the High Mage knew. He was waiting for them.
"My father sends me here to test your defenses and you fail," she scoffed. "Now you expect to detain me? I hope you don't value your careers."
"Show me your hands," the freckled one demanded.
The handsome one looked painfully confused, but the other two had drawn short swords and stepped forward.
Then, as she watched, the freckled halberdman's body twisted with a cry of pain. Taylendar—spectacularly visible now—wrenched the man's one arm higher behind him, as the man rose on tiptoes to alleviate the pain. He swung the halberd up and over his shoulder, but Kallinesha lunged forward and grabbed the staff with her own hands before the blade's arc could carry it into Taylendar's back.
The girls screamed again as Kallinesha wrestled the halberd away, then grabbed for the dagger she'd dropped. The handsome guard pushed the girls out of the way and stood in front of them, brandishing his halberd, eyes on the scuffle that had now broken out between the other guards and Kallinesha's entire party. Ryveld and his men had one guard cornered, and Taylendar's men slashed vigorously at the other. Good fighters, the guards, but when outnumbered two or three to one, it didn't matter.
Something crashed behind her. She whirled to see the fruit vendor from earlier sprawled on the ground among a jumble of crates. He scrambled up, threw a look over his shoulder, right at Kallinesha, then ran off down the street, abandoning his fruit. Half a dozen other townspeople looked with fear between the armed struggle and the fleeing vendor.
"Yes," Kallinesha whispered. "Good idea. Run home and stay there." Witnesses would be dangerous. For her and them both. She struggled to take hold of her essence. "Home," she whispered into its whipping strands. The suggestion enchantment took form. She fed more and more of her own strength and fear into it, and for long moments let herself admit a sharp longing for home—for Mistress's home. She tied up the suggestion, opened her eyes a crack, and flung it as hard as she could across the distance between her and the onlookers. "Run!" she yelled.
All but one of the townspeople turned and fled. The one who remained, broad-shouldered and muscled, gripped a horsewhip
"Go home now!" she commanded again, throwing another suggestion at him.
He backed away, one step, two. Then he spun and sprinted off.
The ground beneath her undulated. She thrust the halberd staff against the stones and leaned on it, taking long moments to steady herself. Then a strong hand gripped her elbow. She tried to fight free, but the grip only tightened.
"Kallinesha, it's just me."
Taylendar. For a moment she couldn't quite see him, though she leaned into where she felt he would be.
"Hurry," he said, his face appearing near her shoulder, as if it had always been there. "They didn't have time to sound the alarm, but we made quite a ruckus." He tucked her arm into his and pulled her along, through the tall doors of the palace, into the familiar entryway where Taylendar's and Ryveld's men had the guards disarmed and bound against the wall. The girls wept quietly in the corner.
"We can't leave the palace entry unguarded. People will notice," she said, though her words slurred and she couldn't get them out fast enough. "Two of you, change clothes with them. Stand guard out there."
They did as she commanded, struggling to disrobe the uncooperative guards, who only quieted when Ryveld held his sword to one's neck and his dagger to the other.
"Where's the High Mage?" he demanded of the freckled trouble-maker.
He clamped his lips shut.
Kallinesha swung her gaze toward the handsome one, who even now tried to comfort the girls with words of half-hearted reassurance. He may be an easy victim to the charms of a pretty face, but maybe he wasn't such a bad sort after all. She gathered her strength and approached him.
"Good man, we're not here to do harm to anyone. My father is a loyal servant to the King." The lie left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I too serve the King. I need you to tell me where the High Mage is, if you know." She'd never had any luck with this type of enchantment. Even Mistress wouldn't be able to make a truth suggestion work if the man didn't already want to help her, at least a little. "Tell me the truth," she said, forcing her voice into gentleness.
"You don't want to harm the King?"
"Don't tell her anything!" someone yelled, before the words were muffled.
She kept her eyes on the man before her. "No. I have risked everything to help the King. I will never harm him." Her truth must have bled into the enchantment, for the guard nodded.
"The High Mage has been studying in his chambers all afternoon. That's where we're supposed to send word of certain disturbances."
"And when does the next guard shift begin?"
"In a little more than an hour, Protectoressa."
"Thank you. And I'm sorry about this." She tugged the green rank sash off his shoulder and bound it around his mouth. "No harm will come to any of you," she said, with a purposeful nod at the girls. "Thank you."
"Traitor," hissed one of the others.
Kallinesha grabbed Taylendar's arm. "The High Mage knows we're after him. You have to find him. Keep him away from the King. Go now. Quickly." This was how they'd planned it: Taylendar would keep watch on the High Mage and distract him or otherwise stop him if it looked like he would interfere.
He'd agreed to it back in the pub, but now he shook his head. "It's too dangerous for me to leave you. He'll have everyone looking for you, including the King's personal guards."
"My father has too much influence there. The High Mage wouldn't dare warn them against me."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then we'll find another way."
"If we all leave now, your father will shelter you until we can prove—"
"I will not hide under his protection. We free the King. Now."
Still he shook his head.
"Please, Taylendar. I know what I'm doing."
"I don't think you do," he whispered, but he sheathed his sword and stalked off toward the High Mage's wing.
It had never before seemed odd to her that the High Mage lived in the palace. Her father didn't. Neither did the High Governor. But he would have to be close to the King to maintain the enchantment. What about when he traveled? The King suffered periods of illness himself, and Kallinesha wondered what she would find if she compared the dates of the King's illnesses and the High Mage's travels. She shuddered.
Garen had already found a key around one of the guards' necks, a key which opened the tiny guard room, littered with charts and bits of armor and half-full cups. They'd gagged and tied them all, even the wide-eyed girls, and when Kallinesha deemed them secure, Garen locked the room.
One of Ryveld's men and one of Taylendar's, clad in the uniform of the guard, took their posts at the door, while Kallinesha led the way to the royal wing, Ryveld and the remaining two men at her heels.
They met no one in the halls but one curtseying servant.
Two of the King's personal guards stood beside the gold-banded door to the royal wing. She took a breath, adjusted her posture, and walked right up to them.
"Protectoressa Kallinesha," they said in greeting, seemingly unsuspecting.
"I'm here on my father's business," she said, but kept her hand on her dagger within the folds of her skirt.
They let her in without question. So the High Mage did fear her father's power.
The few servants in the long halls tiptoed around in silence, almost as if the house were in mourning. People often talked of how distraught the King had become over the queen's poor health, but Kallinesha had never seen such clear evidence. It wasn't just the queen's health, however. The High Mage's enchantment cast a pall over everything, even if no one realized it.
When they arrived at the central chambers, more guards barred their way. "I was sent by my father to speak to the King," Kallinesha said, using her most commanding voice.
"He's not expecting anyone."
"No, but this is important."
"I'm sorry, Protectoressa Kallinesha. Please give your father our most humble apologies."
"He won't accept your humble apologies, not unless I hear it from the King himself. This is an important state matter."
The guards looked nervously at each other, apparently not wanting to cross her father. Was he really the bully Mistress accused him of being? Kallinesha quickly shoved the thought away. Her father was nothing to her anymore—just a tool to get her in to see the King.
"Very well," said the senior guard. "Have a seat and we'll ask Protectoret Irturen." They rang a bell and stood in silence. Outnumbered two to one, they didn't seem much bothered by the fact. A good sign. It meant they didn't suspect anything.
Finally, Protectoret Irturen appeared. Kallinesha knew him slightly. Balding already, though he couldn't have been much older than Taylendar, he always seemed nervous. As the King's personal assistant, he arranged meetings, oversaw the servants and the King's guard, and headed off life's daily bothers so the King could live in peace. "Protectoressa Kallinesha," he said with an overly-gracious nod. "I'm afraid the King is with his beloved queen at the moment."
"I would not dream of disturbing His Highness," Kallinesha said, "but the matter is of a crucial nature."
"Why then, did the High Commander not come himself?" he asked, his tone quavery with false humility, his eyes shrewd.
"He must attend to other related matters." Did she dare try a suggestion enchantment on him? Probably not. He'd most likely been trained to resist them. And what if he were in league with the High Mage? She wished Ista were here to probe into his mind.
"Do you have a letter with his seal?" Irturen asked with a sticky smile.
"I'm his daughter. He considers me worth ten of his seals."
"Then you won't object to me sending him a message, just for verification?"
"Of course not," Kallinesha said, knowing that if she objected, it would only raise his suspicions further. "But don't hold me responsible for his anger when he finds out why you caused such a delay."
Irturen smiled. "Perhaps, then, if you and your companions would just wait here, I'll ask the King if he'll see you. As a favor to your honored father."
When he had slunk back into the King's chambers, Kallinesha risked a glance at Ryveld, who was trying, quite successfully, to look the part of a vacant-eyed servant.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed. They didn't have much time before the next shift of guards showed up for duty and discovered their counterparts locked in the guard room. Finally the door opened again, wide this time, and Irturen reappeared with two more men. "The King has graciously agreed to see you."
Kallinesha entered first, but when Ryveld tried to follow, Irturen stuck out a hand. "You alone, Protectoressa." He smiled again and she wanted to punch that smile right off his face.
"My servant," she indicated Ryveld, "comes with me."
"You alone, I'm afraid."
"He's a simple boy." Kallinesha hoped Ryveld wouldn't be offended, or at least wouldn't show his offense, but he played along, smiling idiotically. "He carries evidence I need to show the King."
"My men can carry it."
"What, are you afraid of a simpleton?"
"Should I be afraid?" Irturen countered.
"Only of the King's anger when he hears how you've treated me." She took Ryveld's arm and pulled him into the chambers.
"Very good," Irturen said behind them, as if it were his idea to admit Ryveld. The man was a pushover. But when the door shut behind them, closing out her two soldiers, she wasn't quite so sure who had won the battle after all.
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