Chapter 10
I was sitting in my dining room eating breakfast when a strange thing happened. I poured myself a second cup of tea, then reached for the honey to spoon into my tea, only to have the honey bowl slide across the table and into my hand. Even stranger was that I felt the honey bowl in my hand before it was actually there. I thought about wanting it. Then I felt it in my hand. Then I saw it slide across the table and into my hand.
Is that what it meant to move something with your mind? First you think about it? Then you feel it in your hand? Then it moves into your hand? I tried something else. I imagined the plate of bread in my hand. A second later, I felt the plate in my hand. A second after that, I saw it slide across the table and into my hand.
My excitement grew considerably. So much so, that I didn't bother to finish my breakfast. Instead, I set the butter knife on the edge of the table, stood, and backed up a few feet. I imagined the butter knife in my hand, then felt it in my hand, then saw it fly off the table and into my hand. The wooden handle ended up in my hand, just like I wanted. The metal blade pointed straight up, just like I imagined.
Now this was a power I could use. I dropped to my knees, said a prayer of thanks to the One God that granted me such a power, then scrambled to my feet and tried something more dangerous. I pulled my cutlass from the scabbard. I laid the cutlass on the table then backed up a few more feet.
I imagined my hand gripping the hilt, imagined the blade pointing straight up. A second later, I felt the cutlass in my hand, felt my fingers wrap around the hilt. A second after that, my cutlass flew through the air, hilt down, blade up. It flew right into my hand and my fingers wrapped around the hilt.
I wondered how big an object I could move. I tried the chair. I imagined picking it up and carrying it to the other side of the table. A second later, I felt the chair in my hands. A second after that, the chair rose off the ground, circled to the opposite side of the table, and settled back down.
I tried moving the table itself. It jiggled a little but only two of its four legs rose off the floor. Okay, so this power was limited to whatever I could physically lift. That was a good thing to know.
I wanted to run out the door and show somebody what I could do. I wanted to show them, but I didn't. I decided to keep this ability to myself, and to save it for when I really needed it. Oh, I would practice using it when I was alone. Just like I practiced using my other powers. As my mother once said, "It's harder for your enemies to prepare for battle, if they don't know what you're capable of doing."
I certainly had enemies, Roehl Tharrington, Maximillian Bedard, maybe even this Dark King. I found it hard to believe that there was someone out there strong enough, powerful enough, to pull Maximillian Bedard's strings. If he did exist, could he have been the one that revealed the knowledge of the alchemists to Roehl? Could he be the one that wanted me dead, the one that ordered Bedard to try and kill me?
If I knew what he looked like, I could spy on him. Then again, maybe I did know what he looked like. The priest implied that I was his daughter, and Patera said that my father looked like me, with black hair, green eyes, and a similar face.
I moved to the drawing room, sat in a chair, and closed my eyes. I pictured a man that looked like me, with black hair, green eyes, and a face similar to mine. A second later, I saw him. He wore black, the same outfit worn by all royal advisers in this part of the world. He was standing next to a throne occupied by Maximillian Bedard, a large wooden throne covered in purple velvet. Bedard wore his usual purple and black. He was talking to a group of well dressed men.
Max didn't interest me, not this time. Now that I knew he was just a puppet. I was here to learn about the man that was pulling his strings. My father. He was short, just like Patera said. His jet black hair was long and pulled back into a ponytail, much like mine. He was clean shaven and had a boyish face, too boyish for someone his age. In point of fact, he didn't look any older than me. He looked more like a twin brother than my father. That reminded me of what the priest said. That his master, the Prince of the Air, had granted him an unnaturally long life.
As much as I knew I should be, it was hard to be afraid of someone that looked so much like me. I was still thinking that, when my father looked right at me with green eyes as lifeless as any I had ever seen, and whispered in a voice that sounded like two voices. "I know you are here, daughter."
I fled right then, back to the safety of my drawing room, where I opened my eyes, bolted to my feet, and wrapped my hand around my cutlass. I hadn't made myself visible, but he had sensed my presence.
Okay, so his powers were more developed than mine. That shouldn't surprise me. He had been using his a lot longer. The One God only knew how old he was.
It was the eyes that got to me. I had never seen such eyes. On the surface, they looked normal, but underneath they were cold and lifeless. Any humanity that had once been in them was gone, replaced by something dark and evil. The same could be said for his voice, which had an eerie quality about it.
I barely had time to collect myself when he appeared in front of me. Or at least his image did. It was different from his real image. His eyes looked normal, rather than cold and lifeless. The image remained transparent then changed until he looked solid. Then he, or it, did something unexpected. He spoke in a voice that sounded perfectly normal and lacked that eerie quality his real voice had.
"We finally meet. Daughter of mine."
I had to force myself to hold my ground and not reach for my cutlass. I knew better than anyone that he wasn't really here, that he wasn't anything more than a ghost, and that my cutlass wouldn't do any good. I wanted to ask him how he could make his image talk. Not that I did. That would just tip him off as to how limited my powers were.
"What do you want?" I said.
"You should leave Vassa, return to your homeland. You'll be safe there."
"I wish that were true, but as powerful as you and Bedard are, you're still the lesser of two evils."
My father laughed. "It's been a long time since I've been called the lesser of two evils. May I ask who you fear more than me?"
"You tell me, you're a seer."
"My powers don't allow me to see across the Great Desert."
Okay. This was interesting news, assuming he was telling the truth. I had no trouble seeing Idy when she was locked in that Sorean dungeon. Nor did I have any trouble letting her and the guards see the images I created. Did this mean that our powers weren't identical? That he could do things I couldn't do, and I could do things that he couldn't do?
His image flickered, turning transparent for a second, before it solidified. Did that mean he was having trouble maintaining the image? I was beginning to think that not only was he limited in how far he could see, but in how long he could see and be seen.
As much as I wanted to ask him, I didn't. He wasn't my father. He was the enemy. This man, or what had once been a man, was now what the priest called the Dark King. This was the man that had Catlett poisoned, and when that didn't work, blown up. This was the man that sent assassins and pirates after me. This was the man that sent the Duke of Genese after me.
He waited for me to speak, but I didn't. I just stood there, watching for signs of weakness, signs that would show me what he could and couldn't do. His image flickered a second time, then solidified.
"We will meet again," my father said.
Before he could leave, I said, “Why do you want me dead? I've done nothing to you.”
“You will if you remain here long enough. Like you said. I am a seer.”
His image became transparent. I don't think he wanted to do it that way. I just don't think he could maintain the solid looking image any longer.
“I don't even know your name.”
"Corbett Barr."
"Lila Marie Haran," I said.
Corbett Barr, the Dark King, bowed, or more precisely, his image bowed before fading away. I sat back down in the chair, closed my eyes, and reach
ed out, probing, testing to see if he was still here. He wasn't. I found him in Max's castle, sitting behind a polished black desk. This time, I imagined my presence as tiny as an insect, no bigger than a flea on the wall. No bigger than a speck on a flea.
There was a knock on the door to his office. A second later, Maximillian Bedard slipped into the room.
"What do you want?" my father said, using the voice that had an eerie timber, as if it were two voices instead of one.
"You left the throne room so suddenly, I wondered if you were all right."
"I had some business to attend to, business that doesn't concern you."
"Have you decided what our next move will be?"
"The time is ripe for you to move against the High Sage of Landish. The Finger States are too weak to come to his aid. The kings of Standish and Poshta are occupied with the internal rebellions we've fermented within their borders. It's time for you to issue a public statement, claiming you're tired of Landish pirates cruising up and down the Istansada River unchecked. Since the high sage won't take action to curb these pirates, you have no choice but to remove him from power and restore order to the Istansada River yourself. When you've issued that statement, marshal your forces and move them to the Dunre--Landish border."
Max bowed. "As you command, My Lord."
I allowed the tiny presence I was maintaining in my father's office to fade away. When I was back in my drawing room, I paused to consider what I had just learned. My father was clearly running things in Dunre, not Maximillian Bedard. He was a seer that could do things I couldn't do, like speak through his image. But he was limited in how far he could see, and in how long he could maintain his presence elsewhere.
He managed to detect my presence the first time I dropped in on him, but now that I thought about it, so did Idy the day I saw her in that pub back in Adah. That led me to conclude their ability to detect my presence had less to do with any special powers they had and more to do with the fact that I made no attempt to keep my presence hidden.
The second time I eavesdropped on my father, I made a point of keeping my presence as small as possible. As far as I could tell, he hadn't detected my being there. That meant that I could spy on him if I was careful. I would also have to get into the habit of searching for his presence before talking to others.
My other problem was that he had ordered Max to move against the high sage. A two thousand man army wasn't much compared to the size of our armies back in Adah, but it was large enough to defeat anything the high sage could muster. If I wanted to prevent Maximillan Bedard and my father from conquering Landish, I was going to have to convince the high sage that he was in danger, and that he needed to prepare for war.
I mulled over what I learned as I went out for my morning run with the queen's guard. By this time, the people around the city had grown used to seeing me and a couple dozen soldiers running up and down the streets of the city and many turned out to watch and cheer as we ran by.
We finished our run by returning to the castle, where we paired off and practiced our sword fighting on the lawn in front of the castle. Today I was paired with Bokham, and as we dueled, his broadsword against my cutlass, I told him what I learned.
"We have a problem," I said.
"What's that, Your Majesty?" Bokham attacked with two hands on his broadsword, forcing me to retreat.
"Max is planning to invade Landish, remove the high sage from power, and place himself on the high sage's throne. Even as we speak, he's ordering his army to marshall on the Landish border."
Bokham didn't ask how I knew all of this. He just continued to go on the offensive and force me to retreat. "And this concerns us because?"
"If Max claims the high sage's throne, he'll have twice as much gold, enough to build an army twice the size of the one he currently commands. When he comes after us, we won't be able to stop him."
Swinging the heavy broadsword after a good run was beginning to tire Bokham out. I switched my cutlass from my left hand to my right and went on the offensive, forcing Bokham to retreat.
"You must tell the high sage what's happening. Tell him that if he doesn't raise an army, he'll lose his throne and his life."
"I don't think the high sage has enough time to raise and train an army big enough to defeat Max's army."
"Then he must hire some mercenaries."
"Where does one find mercenaries in this part of the world?"
"There's only one place," Bokham said. "The Land of Nomads."
"The nomads are trained mercenaries?"
"The Central Tribes train to fight on horseback. They will also fight for pay." Bokham took a deep breath and went on the offensive, once again forcing me to retreat. "The nomads will fight for the high sage if he asks for their help and pays them well. You just need to convince him that his life and throne are in danger."
The last time I tried to warn Counselor Jarvo about Max, he ignored my warnings and tossed me into the high sage's harem. He might ignore my warnings again, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about being tossed into the high sage's harem.
The last time I visited him, I was just a princess from the far side of the world. I had no money, no manpower at my disposal. Now, I did. I was Queen of Vassa and leader of the Finger States. With Max coming after him, Jarvo couldn't afford to offend me. He might choose to ignore my warnings, but he couldn't do more than that.
I decided it was time to end my fight with Bokham, so I imagined grabbing his broadsword and tossing it on the ground. A second later, I felt the sword in my hand, felt myself toss it on the ground. A second after that, the broadsword flew out of Bokham's hands and crashed to the ground.
I pointed my cutlass at Bokham's chest, and said, "I believe this fight is over, Captain."
I'm not sure if Bokham suspected I did something to his sword or not. He just smiled and bowed.
After my morning workout, I bathed, changed into a velvet gown of forest green, and donned the queen's crown. I ordered the servants to find Patera and send him to the throne room. The room looked different now, with the two statues of Catlett standing on each side of the dais.
I was sitting on the throne when Patera entered. Bokham, Vomeir, and my usual retinue of one dozen guards lined the walls on both sides of the room. An official court scribe, a young man in his early twenties, stood off to my left at the foot of the dais, standing at his scribe's table with a quill pen in his right hand. It was his job to record any and all decrees and proclamations that I might issue, and pass them on to the rest of the castle, city, and country.
"Approach the throne, Captain," I said, when Patera entered the room.
Patera walked to the foot of the dais. He was wearing gray leather breeches, a green tunic, and his everyday brass breastplate rather than his dress gold. His broadsword was slung across his back and his brass helmet was tucked under his right arm.
"Your Majesty," Patera said, speaking the Common Tongue. He stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed.
"I've decided to give you a new job, Captain." Patera opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my right hand, silencing him. "It will not interfere with the final orders my mother issued to you, so you can relax."
"What is this job?"
"From this day forward, you'll serve as a personal adviser to the Queen of Vassa. As one of my advisers, you'll have to be available to me at a moment's notice. Therefore, you will move into Chancellor Edgerton's old suite on the third floor."
Patera bowed again. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
He probably thought I was just being nice to an old man, but that was only partially true. Now that I knew my father was pulling Max's strings, I needed Patera. He was the only person around that was old enough to remember my father's arrival at my mother's court some twenty-two years ago. There might be things in his brain that could help me defeat my father, things he didn't even know were important.
I rose off my throne and headed for the exit. "Walk with me, Captain."
Patera fell in alongside of me. Vomeir, Bokham, and my other twelve guards fell in behind me, walking in two columns. The Vassans behind Bokham. The Adans behind Vomeir.
"Something is on your mind," Patera said. It was a statement, not a question.
"Just a second." I stopped walking and probed for my father's presence, checking to see if he was here, spying on me. If he was, I couldn't detect him. I resumed walking. "Maximillian Bedard is not running things in this part of the world."
"Who is?"
"Someone you met twenty-two years ago. My father."
Patera stiffened. “And you know this because?"
"I've seen him, talked to him."
"When? Where?"
"This morning. In my suite."
"He was here?"
"His image was here. He's a seer, like me."
"What did he want?"
"Probably the same thing I wanted when I went looking for him in Max's castle, to look the enemy in the eye."
"I thought the images you created couldn't talk?"
"His can."
"It sounds like he's very powerful."
"He's stronger than I am in some areas, but not as strong in others. Our powers are different."
We passed out of the throne room and into the great hall. Patera looked around the empty room. "Is he here right now?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"As sure as I can be."
"What did he look like?"
"He looked a lot like me. Short. Slim. Long black hair. Green eyes. Young."
"Young?" a puzzled looking Patera said. "How young?"
"About my age. Maybe a couple years older."
"That's impossible. That's what he looked like some twenty years ago, when he first showed up at your mother's palace."
"It seems he has made a deal with a higher being known as the Prince of the Air. This being gave him certain powers in exchange for his fealty."
"What kind of powers are we talking about?"
"An unnaturally long life. The knowledge of the alchemists. The ability to sway and influence those around him, including kings."
"That explains why your mother acted so odd when he was around."
"Odd how?"
"You know how much she hated war, not to mention the Battle Crown."
I nodded. "When we were young, she told us that she prayed none of us ever wanted to wear the Battle Crown, and that she would weep for the one that did."
"Yeah, well, not long after your father showed up at court, she started wearing that very crown. Not only did she start wearing it, she started talking about going to war against Sorea, destroying the dark wizards that threatened our borders."
"What was he doing in Adah?"
"Somebody in Sorea drove him from power. He came to Adah and tried to use our armies to destroy his enemies in Sorea."
"I wonder what stopped him."
"The people that drove him from power didn't like him setting up camp on their doorstep. So they drove him out of Adah and across the desert, where he couldn't threaten them."
"That explains why he left so suddenly. Do you remember any strangers coming to the palace around the time he left?"
Patera thought for a second. "There was a man that showed up requesting an audience with your mother. One that I had never seen before or since."
"What did he look like?"
"He was a bald man, with eyes so black, you couldn't see his pupils."
"Tall or short, thin or heavy?"
"Tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist."
"Young or old?"
"It's hard to remember. Somewhere in between, I guess."
"He must've been the one that drove my father out of Adah and across the desert."
"Perhaps," Patera said. "What difference does it make now?"
"If I could talk to this man, he might be able to help me. He might be able to tell me how to defeat my father."
"You're not thinking about going to Sorea?"
"Not physically."
I was thinking about using my powers to talk to this man, assuming he was still alive. But before I could do that, I had to take care of one not so small detail, I had to figure out how to make my image talk.