Read Princess of the Sword Online
Authors: Lynn Kurland
Princess of the Sword (45 page)
And now that those were seen to, he had other things to think on. The well was shut, Lothar was tucked safely in Gobhann, but there were still the questions of what to do with Lothar’s kin and how best to rid the realm of Lothar’s monsters that were still at liberty. Perhaps all he could do with Lothar’s sons and their sons was to wall them into Riamh with spells they couldn’t break through until he could bring himself to either slay them or wring promises from them that they would turn away from Lothar’s path.
And given what he was sure would be the response to the latter, he supposed they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
The second problem was easier to solve. He had to rid the realm of Lothar’s creatures as quickly as possible. He couldn’t leave his people to face those horrors when there was aught he could do to prevent it.
He sighed, then opened his eyes. He jumped in spite of himself at the sight of his now eldest brother sitting in the chair across from him. Cathar reached down and picked up a mug of ale to hand to him.
“Thought you might need this.”
Miach accepted it gratefully, drank, then wrapped his hands around the cup. “Been here long?”
“About an hour.”
“You’re always here about an hour.”
Cathar smiled. “I lose track of time. I thought you might want a bit of company.”
“Or a guard?”
Cathar shrugged. “That never hurts either.”
Miach studied his brother. “Are you sorry about all this?”
“I’m thrilled,” Cathar said without hesitation. “Rigaud is another tale entirely, but if you were to make him the minister of something important—like the silk trade with Sròl—he might forgive you for something you had no control over.”
Miach looked down into his ale for a moment or two, then at his brother. “I didn’t ask for this, you know.”
“Bloody hell, Miach, didn’t I just say as much?” Cathar said with a snort. “I know I spent more time worrying about my potential place in the succession than I did what horrors Adhémar was enduring in Riamh that whole damned time. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t have done the same in my place.” He shook his head. “Nay, I was delighted to see that mantle fall on you. You’ll make a fabulous king. I’ll happily stand behind you and keep Rigaud from slipping a knife between your ribs.”
Miach laughed uneasily. “I wish I was certain you were jesting.”
“I imagine you do,” Cathar agreed with a grin. “Not to fear; Rigaud will survive. The rest of the lads are, of course, behind you without question. They’re also ready to troop to Melksham and see what King Nicholas can produce for them.”
“And you?”
“I’m going to woo the widow Tonnag.” He smiled. “She brews a particularly fine dark ale, don’t you know.”
“Well, you seem to.”
Cathar cursed him, which made him feel much more as if things were as they always had been.
But somehow, they weren’t. It was as if he’d suddenly become the steward of everyone and everything in the realm of Neroche. It was a bit like when he’d had his magic come back to him after he’d left Gobhann, only this was a much stronger sensation. He supposed if he’d tried, he could have sensed the essence of anything in the kingdom.
He looked into the fire and searched for the trolls that had hunted him and Morgan before. He saw Hearn’s men slaying half a dozen, Ehrne’s kin doing the like with a different group of them on the borders of Ainneamh, his own guardsmen finishing off a handful more on the border of Riamh. He hesitated, then looked farther, to Ceangail and past that to Durial.
He was very surprised indeed to find how much he could see there as well.
He pulled his attention back to what he was searching for. There were no trolls that he could see farther east than Ceangail, which was a great relief somehow. He realized, with a start, that most of them seemed to be gathered at the well at Ceangail, as if they’d been called there. Which he supposed they had.
He sighed deeply and rubbed his hand over his face. The sooner they were seen to, the better for them all.
He pulled himself back to himself finally, then realized Cathar was still sitting there. He smiled briefly. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“Poor Morgan.” Cathar sighed. “She’ll be forever prodding you during supper to not neglect your wine.”
“Trust me, I never wander off mentally when she’s near.”
“I can see why not,” Cathar said. “She’s a marvel. And if you’re curious, she’s downstairs, pacing through the passageways.”
Miach pushed himself to his feet and handed his cup to his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought she’d gone to bed.”
“She told me not to disturb you if you were working. She promised she wasn’t bolting.”
“A fact for which I’ll be forever grateful,” Miach threw over his shoulder as he strode to the door. He slowed to a stop before he opened it, then looked at his brother. “Do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I’m going hunting, well before dawn likely. I’ll take Mansourah and Nemed with me, as well as whoever from Tòrr Dòrainn and Ainneamh will come along. I need to find the remaining trolls and finish them.”
Cathar looked at him in surprise. “Why don’t you send someone else?”
“Because I am still the archmage of the realm,” Miach said quietly, “and my duty is to protect that realm.”
Cathar stared at him for a moment or two in silence, then smiled a very small smile. “Mother would have been proud of you.”
“Mother would have told me I was dawdling,” he said dryly, “but I must go at least hold my lady for a bit before I go.”
“Which she also would have understood,” Cathar said. “But if you don’t want me to go with you, what favor do you want from me?”
“Guard Morgan’s back.”
Cathar’s mouth fell open. “Against the lassies downstairs?”
Miach shot him a look that had him holding up his hands in surrender.
“Very well, I’ll be her personal guardsman. I’m sure she’ll be vastly relieved to have me. And when those shrews turn on me, perhaps she’ll keep
me
safe.”
me
safe.”
“I daresay she will.” Miach opened his door. “Bank my fire for me, would you?”
“Demoted to servant already—”
Miach shut the door on his brother’s laughter and loped down the stairs. He walked up and down stairs and along passageways until he came to the great hall. He stopped at the doorway and smiled at the sight that greeted him.
Morgan had pulled the king’s chair up to the hearth and was stretching up to hang the Sword of Angesand on the wall. Miach watched her for a moment or two, then decided it was perhaps time to offer aid before she unraveled the tapestries with her curses. He walked across the floor and around the end of the table. He lit another handful of torches with a sweet spell of Fadaire, then looked up at her.
“Might I offer aid, fair maiden?”
She blew hair out of her eyes. “Either that, or fetch me a cushion. I only need another handsbreadth. I suppose I could stand on the arms of this chair—”
Miach reached up and took the sword from her. “Off, gel, and let me see to it for you.” He changed places with her, put the sword back up on the wall, then jumped off the chair and pushed it back in. He looked at her.
“You’re up late.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “Well, that and I thought the sword should go back where it belonged.”
“It belongs with you,” he said quietly, “but you can keep it up there if you like.” He reached for her hand. “The Sword of Neroche crosses it, you know, when the king is the right sort of lad to leave a sword on the wall.”
“Which you might be?”
He shrugged. “I have a knife in my boot and a spell or two at my command. What else do I need? Well, save you. And perhaps a contingent of musicians to play for us.”
“You’ve but one thing on your mind,” she said with a smile.
“ ’Tis a handy excuse to hold you in my arms,” he admitted. “And it will keep us from discussing a half dozen things that require just us in my mother’s solar, safe and warm under Mehar’s weaving. Though I’ll tell you that I think the Sword of Angesand chose well.” He looked at her seriously. “No one could have done what you did, Morgan, and not just because you’re your father’s daughter. You have faced things that would have caused mighty mages to quake and you have bested them.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t have done it without you. And if you want
my
opinion, I think the Sword of Neroche chose well, if it was the one to do the choosing.”
my
opinion, I think the Sword of Neroche chose well, if it was the one to do the choosing.”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “We’ll see, I suppose.”
She pursed her lips. “Miach, I have felt his power. I have a fair idea of what it took for you to do what you did on the field two days ago.”
He took a deep breath, then smiled. “I wanted you safe and at liberty to dance with me, so let us be about that before we both find ourselves lost too much in memories of events perhaps better left forgotten for the moment. We’ll have to imagine up the music, though. I can’t conjure viols and flutes.”
“And I can’t sing,” she said with a smile, “so I suppose we’ll just make do.”
He led her back around the table and across the hall. He stopped in surprise at the sight of a handful of musicians standing near the hall doors. One of the string players stepped forward and made him a bow.
“Prince Cathar thought you might be needing us, Your Highness.”
Miach smiled. “Thank you, gentlemen. I daresay we would welcome your company.”
The violinist elbowed one of his fellows. “Shut the door, lad, and let’s give the prince archmage and his lady a bit of privacy.”
Miach took Morgan’s hand and led her into the midst of the hall. He made her a low bow, had an elegant curtsey in return, then he laughed and danced with her all the patterns he knew. He stumbled through a pair of them she’d learned from Brèagha, then finally pulled her back into his arms and simply held her close as the music continued to play.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I wish I could begin to tell you how much.”
He felt her hand running through his hair before her arms went around his neck. “You just did and I feel the same.” She pulled back far enough to smile at him. “I don’t want to let go of you.”
“Very soon, you won’t have to.”
She started to smile, then she froze. She stared at him for a moment or two, then her eyes narrowed. “You’re planning something you don’t want me to know about.”
He retrieved his jaw before it fell too far south. “What?” he asked, wondering if he might feign a bit of sudden deafness.
“Miach, what are you doing?”
He thought about hedging, but decided there was no point. He had planned to leave her a note, though that would have likely led to having it back on the end of her sword. He took a deep breath. “I must see to those creatures of Lothar’s. They are rudderless, you might say, but still lethal in the right circumstances. I can’t leave them to roam the realm unchecked.”
“I’m coming with you.”
He smiled, pained. “Morgan . . .”
“Miach, don’t you dare leave me behind.”
“I won’t be gone longer than a pair of days and I won’t go alone.”
“But you won’t take me,” she said flatly.
He hesitated, then leaned forward and carefully rested his forehead against hers. “Morgan, my dearest love, I know who you are and what you can do. I also know that you have, over the last handful of months, faced things that no soldier, no matter how brave, should have had to face without the hope of a rest after the battle was won. You have earned your rest.”
“And what of you?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll rest when I return.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “Is this how it will be? You leaving me behind at the first sign of a good battle?”
He smiled against her hair. “I don’t think this will qualify as a good battle. I imagine I’ll find these lads at the well and I would prefer to spare you another trip there. Allow me to ply a little of my very rusty chivalry on you, won’t you?”
She sighed deeply. “If that’s the case, then I suppose I should thank you for it. I could avoid that place quite happily, I think.”
“With any luck, we’ll both manage that in the future.”
“I hope so,” she said quietly. She lifted her head and looked at him. “Very well, I’ll humor you. I’ll terrorize your garrison, or attempt to keep my grandfather from terrorizing your ministers. I daresay the first will be the easier task.”
“You could also keep Sosar company.”
“I could.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Did Lothar take all his power?”
“Sosar won’t discuss it with me. I don’t know that he wouldn’t with either enough time or enough sour wine from Penrhyn, but I haven’t had the opportunity to ply him with the latter, and I haven’t had the former to give him.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He might talk to you.”
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