The Malicarn #5
Sanderson smiled and sat in a chair across from Hannah.
“My queen, while I am charged to serve you in all ways, I must remind you that until you are seventeen the regency has bestowed upon myself and Sir Quentin the powers of the Crown, for your protection as much as anything. Since the day you were born we have endeavored to rule fairly and wisely in your stead, and though we will always take your preferences into advisement, we simply must follow the binds of our own conscience.”
Sanderson liked to give this speech, and it had become more elaborate over time.
“So you will not consult with Gregorian then?”
“No, Your Majesty. We will not.”
“Very well, I will speak to him myself.” She raised her voice and shouted to the ceiling. “Gregorian, the queen formally requests your presence for royal council!”
Sanderson and Quentin groaned. This was some bit of magic Gregorian had long ago given Hannah the power to conjure.
She did now know how it worked, exactly, but if she simply shouted the words loud enough, Gregorian would soon appear.
It was technically against the law, but the magic was subtle enough that no one could ever prove its existence, much as Sanderson and Quentin wished to, if only to force Gregorian into exile.
Sanderson stood back up. “This is a waste of time, Your Majesty.”
Hannah could have said the same about the rest of the afternoon, which was spent reviewing tax rolls, boring and tedious work that Hannah hated but for which Sanderson insisted she be present.
Afterward she had a break before supper, so she walked back down to the castle courtyard to find Kellington.
But Kellington wasn’t there. Instead, sitting on the wooden platform Kreek had used earlier, was Gregorian, dressed in a plain brown robe and scratching his short beard.
Gregorian had never had a very long beard, which made him different from other wizards.
Of course, Hannah had never met any other wizards, so she supposed it was possible that Gregorian was just like all of the rest of them.
“You came quick,” Hannah said.
“You asked me to.” Gregorian stood up, yawned, and stretched. “Let me guess. This is about the dragon?”
“Yes, Sanderson and Quentin did not know much about it. Took their time even telling me.”
“Well, there’s not much to tell. What is left of it is well charred.”
“You have seen it?”
“Oh yes. This morning. I planned to come and give you and the regents a full report. But like I said, there is not much to report on.” He walked over to a pen where a few horses were standing and leaned against the post. “There will be some Councilors, perhaps some knights, who are going to want to ride out hunting for more dragons. I would discourage this, when they come to you.”
“You know this already?”
“Yes.”
“Quentin thought there might have been a dragon rider. Do you know about that?”
“Hmm.” Gregorian paused, petting the mane of a nearby horse. “Not all dragons have riders, you know. And if there was one, he must be dead, too. Incinerated, like so much of the dragon itself.”
“I think I should see the remains. Reassure the people—”
“No, it is really not necessary. Trust me, the faster the people forget about the dragon the better.”
“I disagree. They are only now recovering from famine, and the flooding last summer was a hard blow. Any other signs of doom will surely be taken as bad omens. But if I reassure them, as their queen—”
“What will happen, do you think? Have you ever addressed the people before, as their queen?”
“You know I have not. But I should begin to practice.”
“The people won’t like it. They don’t like highborns speaking down to them. You can stamp your feet about it, but I am simply telling you the truth. I have been speaking to them on this goodwill tour for you and people are very angry.”
“I have not done anything.”
“Yes, that is their main point of contention.”
“But I cannot do anything until the regency ends. They must get to know me. I will be compassionate, you know that, Gregorian.”
The wizard tapped a few rhythmic beats with his fingers on the post and then turned back toward the yard. “I do. I am only trying to be honest, in order to protect you. Tensions are high, let’s not exacerbate them. That is all I am saying.”
“You believe I do not know what I am doing.”
“I think you want to know what to do, but you don’t want to admit that you do not.”
“And you? You know how I should rule?”
“Yes. If you listen to me, you will see that.”
“Well, I expect this politicking from Sanderson and Quentin, but not from you, Gregorian.” She turned and walked back into the keep.
“Hannah, now, listen, that’s not fair—” But she didn’t hear the rest of what he had to say as she passed into the stone tower.
Hannah took supper in her private chambers.
Eating alone helped her think. She pulled out some maps from Fennick’s stash of texts and scrolls, charting a path from Kingstown and the castle to the Morlon Kastaun battlefield.
It was only a day’s ride, assuming you had a fast enough horse.
Someone could make it out there, leaving at dawn, and make it back by dusk.
You wouldn’t get to rest, of course, and you would need to know where best to change horses, but a skilled rider could do it.
“Please ask Sir Kellington to visit me after he eats,” Hannah told one of her servants.
Kellington walked in an hour later, slightly drunk, but still dressed in full mail with his sword at his side. “Your Majesty! I come to serve you!”
Hannah realized this late-night assignation was about to be misinterpreted, so she got to the point. “Sir Kellington, I need you to take me to the Morlon Kastaun to see the dragon corpse. I trust you have a fine steed on which to ride, and can do so with some stealth?”
“Uh, yes, Youe Highness. It is a long ride, though—”
“I do not wish to stay long. Simply to see the corpse. We travel light and fast so as to avoid a royal retinue that would slow us down. If we leave at dawn we can make it back within a day. My advisors will be upset but by the time they figure out what to do we’ll have returned.”
“With respect, Highness, that kind of hard riding is certainly possible for a knight in times of war or on an urgent quest, but it is likely to prove wearying to one, like yourself, who is not used to such trials. I say this with all respect, of course.”
“Nevertheless, you will do it.”
“I must get permission from the regents, or else—”
“You will not. In a little less than a year the regents will have no more power, and I expect to spread my favors far and wide, but only to those whom I know I can trust.”
Kellington nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. I suggest you sleep as much as possible. I will have the horses prepared in the morning.”
Hannah was pleased with her authority, though she had trouble falling asleep. At first she just thought it was excitement, but after some hours in the dark she noticed there was a slight hiss, as from a teakettle, emanating from within the walls.
“If that is some magic of yours, Gregorian, I demand you to stop it.” She said this aloud in jest, but the hissing did indeed stop.
She had trouble sleeping, rolling on her bed and trying to tamp down her excitement.
She finally dozed a bit toward morning, and had dreams of a dragon flying above her at the Morlon Kastaun as a battle raged below.
Just before dawn, Hannah put on a riding dress—the most modest she could find, but encrusted with jewels in the fringes even so.
She snuck down to the courtyard. The guards at this hour were posted mostly around the perimeter, making it easier to move about the castle grounds undetected.
Kellington was waiting there for her with a horse, a large chestnut.
“There is a garrison along the way,” he said, “where we can change for another. It will not slow us down too much.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said. “What did you tell the horsemaster?”
“Just that I needed to run an errand for the queen.”
They both climbed onto the horse, Hannah behind Kellington, clasping her hands around his waist. She hid her face as they passed through the castle gates.
There was a path that wound down the hill through Kingstown.
Kellington took it slowly, since the streets were clogged with the destitute sleeping against buildings and doorways.
The walls were covered with graffiti, mostly obscene and disparaging remarks about the queen and the Council of Heroes, along with some unrelated pornography.
Outside the walls they crossed through a large, semipermanent tent city of migrants and then finally into an open field.
Kellington kicked the horse into a gallop, and they were off.
Hannah did not ride much. Her leg prevented it, and when she did travel abroad it was typically in a carriage, slowly, surrounded by knights. The sun rose over the hills and Hannah’s eyes watered as the sharp, cold air hit her face. The fresh morning breeze made all things feel new.
But the ride was short. Only a few miles in, Hannah noticed a company of horsemen descending from a northern ridge.
The horsemen rode straight toward them, fast and fleet.
They were knights as well, and they surrounded Kellington, forcing him to a stop.
The lead knight rode up beside him. It was Kreek.
“Sir Kellington, who is it you are riding away with?”
Hannah took off her hood. “Sir Kreek, it is I. Do not blame Sir Kellington. I ordered him to take me to see the dragon.”
“Yes, I know. Kellington, this should be a killing offense, kidnapping the queen—”
“I was not kidnapped.”
“—but I think it may merely be a demotion back to squire. You are clearly not ready for the responsibilities of knighthood.”
“Sir Kreek!” Hannah shouted. “You have no such authority! As queen, I decide who is fit for knighthood.”
Kreek leaned in toward her. “My authority here is invested by the regency! You are under the care of the same!”
Kellington’s hands held the reins, but were shaking. “I am sorry, Sir Kreek, I, I—”
“Save your apologies. Turn around. We will escort you home.”
Hannah would not keep Kreek in his position as royal swordmaster, not once she was old enough to change it.
She knew that now. She would just have to wait another year, and Kreek would not be able to talk to her like that ever again.
Next time he found out—and suddenly Hannah felt a drop in her stomach.
How had Kreek found out where they were going?
How did he know they were headed to see the dragon corpse?
The sun rose higher and the frost baked off the grass on the open fields. The snow that still clung to branches and trunks under shade glistened in the morning light. It was not long before Kingstown and the castle came into view again.
Kreek had ridden down from the north, not from the castle. But still he knew they were gone, knew where they were going. Somebody must have told him. Somebody who might have been able to see Hannah, watch her, make sure she wasn’t doing anything she wasn’t supposed to be doing.
Somebody like a wizard.