21

  Karellon, out in the Valinor Palace throne room, near dawn:

  As they clustered together, guards at the ward-points, a few things became obvious. First, that Mikale wasn’t going to regenerate that missing leg in time to do any good. The healing spring water was gone. Unless another god intervened, there would be no more miracles.

  Second, they could leave no one behind. Not in a damaged castle possibly crawling with hidden skin-changers. Only the folk in that throne room… elves and half-elves alike… could be trusted. Anyone else might be a demonic imposter, disguised as a trusted official or friend. The party had just driven off one of those vicious mimics, but ‘Lord Kalistiel’ was still out there somewhere, injured and terribly dangerous.

  Thirdly, their immediate goal was the mainland. They had no other choice. Galadin tried to explain what had happened, saying,

  “Outlander’s mimic took a dislike to me after I slew one of her offspring over in Low Town. Since she deemed me unworthy of your daughter, Sire…”

  “Lex. Or Alexion,” growled the young emperor, whose crown still sat slightly askew. “Call me ‘sire’ or ‘majesty’ again, and I’ll behead you myself, Dino. That goes for all of you, even the guards. You can call me ‘sir’ in public, but here… who else can I trust but you lot?”

  Next, fixing his stare on the tall, pale-haired northerner, Alexion said,

  “I suppose that explains why the hag was carving you up, if not why you and Firelord let her.”

  Dawn was approaching, filling that long, columned hall with pale light and a breeze that fluttered their clothing and hair. Not that Galadin was wearing much. As the Shining One left him, the elf-lord reverted to nothing but tattered breeches, his sword-arm tattoo, long hair and a pair of stained boots. The scars of torture had faded. (On the outside, at least.) Now Galadin took up the thread of his story, saying,

  “I had no alternative, Lex. The skin-changer took many hostages, including my family and Princess Genevera’s friend.”

  “Honey!” blurted Genna, darting away from her parents to stand before Galadin. “Is she safe? Did she help you to fight? Where did she go?”

  The prince consort smiled a bit. There hadn’t been any fighting at all, until close to the end. He bowed to the princess, though.

  “Honey was extremely brave, Highness, and… as far as I know, she’s safe on the mainland, along with the others. I traded myself for their transport away from danger. The skin-changer ordered me to empty my faerie pockets, so I did. Not to the void, though. To Honey. All of my former wealth is now hers. Skipper, too.”

  Alexion listened to this while keeping an eye on Freys, who was still crouched on that buckled tile floor, fighting to save Mikale. Funny… The drow had taken to calling Alexion ‘Bone-setter’ after he stopped in the thick of a fight to bind up a wounded young bait-mortal. Seemed like a foolish thing to do at the time, but it had won them attention, potions and weapons, along with much higher bets. More than that, it had kept them together. A team. As time went on and they’d won more battles, the others got nicknames, as well. Galadin was ‘White Hair’, Zesha was ‘Fancy’, while Mikale they’d called ‘Giant’. As for Freys, he’d earned the name ‘Flash’ for his combat magic and speed.

  Despite their battle names, it was slim, intense Freys who’d done most of the actual healing… and a torn-away leg wasn’t easily fixed. Looking back over at Galadin, the emperor said,

  “We’ll see that you’re properly armed and clothed, Dino. If nothing else, I’m certain the exchequer owes you all a pile of Honor Guard back pay.” Then, musingly, “Valerian’s last message had him following Nalderick to Port Karell. I believe that a fleeing prince might take passage to the mainland. We did, after our…”

  He didn’t have to say ‘exile’ or ‘crime’. Together, Alexion, Mikale, Freys, Zesha and Galadin had freed a goddess, then paid for the deed a thousand times over. Exile was just the beginning… and he shouldn’t have waited so long to see them again.

  Panya interrupted the emperor’s thoughts, coming forward to bow. The girl was a sea-elf with drifting blue hair, gills on her neck and beautiful, opaline eyes. She was filling out, too, losing her childish slenderness in the presence of someone she longed for. Korvin was Alexion’s guess, and the thought made him smile.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Sir,” said Panya, straightening gracefully. “If Nalderick has touched open water out on the mainland or anyplace else, my tracking glitter and magic can locate him.”

  “It has to be open water? Not a fountain or bathing pool?” probed Alexion, interested.

  Panya shook her head, no.

  “Water in pipes or a tub does not live, Sir. Far from the source, it swiftly loses its power. Hopefully, the prince has waded or cleansed himself in a pond or a river.”

  “Uhn,” grunted Lex, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. So drekking weary, and they weren’t out of trouble, yet. “Find him,” commanded the emperor, turning next to Genevera. Earlier, his niece had tried to tell him something important. He hadn’t taken Genna and Honey seriously before that awful, chaotic ball. Maybe, if he had listened…

  “What was it you wanted to say to me, Flower of Karellon?”

  Genevera scrunched up her face. She was still just a child, full of odd little quirks and sudden… often dangerous… whims. Lowering her voice, she said,

  “I looked inside Lady Outlander’s desk, Unkeror. Those skin-changers have got most of the high lords and ladies, but Dadness can tell you all about that. He pinched her secret book. It’s just… they were planning to make me wed Heinril! I found the marriage decree rolled up at the back of a drawer and… eww! I won’t! I’ll run away with Honey and join a pirate crew, first!”

  She meant it, too, having a dozen escape routes already mapped out, practiced and timed. The girl leaned forward, fists on her hips, green eyes as wild as an alley cat’s. Genna was all set to argue, but the emperor shook his head.

  “Rescinded,” he declared. “Heinril can marry his cell-mate, just as soon as we track and arrest the young prig… and the Grand Council is officially out of the match-making business, effective ‘I said so’.”

  Genevera whooped, leaping into the air like a colt.

  “I’m saved!” she sang out and then sobered. “Except… being a pirate would have been fun. That’s still on the table, Unkeror.”

  “No. It isn’t,” he corrected. Then, turning away once again,

  “Freys?”

  “Aye, Lex?” Their healer and battle mage looked up from his half-conscious patient.

  “Can he be moved? Speed is vital now, Fry. We have to get out before the council has time to react, and we must leave here together.”

  Dark-haired Freys had been a rarity in the Honor Guard; an elf of no major family or wealth. He’d earned his position, rather than being handed it. Now, with one hand still pouring manna into Mikale, he said,

  “I can keep him stable, Lex, but he won’t be able to fight, walk or perform any magic. Any of that would delay or reverse his muscle and bone growth. Legs take a while to replace.”

  “Best speed,” urged Alexion, as his people… nearly all those who mattered… came up with armor, a sword and warm clothing for Galadin.

  In less time than the telling, Mikale was cocooned in magic for travel, Dino was no longer half-naked, Marika had veiled herself once more, and Korvin brought very bad news.

  “It’s not good, Lex. Most of the council were ‘harvested’, along with just about every head of our major guilds and realms,” said the scholarly prince, holding forth Evert’s Peerage. “Only the Tarandahls escaped Outlander’s attention, most likely because of their distance from Karellon…”

  “…and our lack of importance,” finished Galadin, coming to look over Kori’s shoulder. The floating tome and its pens tried to block him, but Dino just bumped them aside. Gazing at all of those grey, peach and blue dots, he said, “It seems that we have a fight on our hands, and we’ll need all the help we can get.”

  Easy for him to say. Firelord wasn’t a very demanding god, requiring strength, courage, and not much else. Alexion’s gaze drifted upward and over, coming to rest on a massive, rock-crystal throne. Carved all over with intertwined dragons, the god-sized chair had held Oberyn’s spirit all through Aldarion’s reign. Father had never been sword-arm of Oberyn. He hadn’t been willing to pay the steep price. In the end, that’s what had killed him and opened their kingdom up to creeping invasion. Question was, could Alexion do any better?

  His chain of thought broke short when Panya cried out,

  “I found him, I think!”

  The sea-elf looked up from a swirling orb made of water she held cupped in both slender hands. Panya seemed worried, rather than happy, though, saying,

  “A very deep lake far in the east has dissolved the glitter that fell from a diving person, but the hole that he made in its water doesn’t seem much like a…”

  Like a prince, she’d been about to say, but Marika’s rigid stance… a glimpse at hopeful Korvin and Genna… prevented her.

  “… like a court-ball athlete. He pushed aside rather more water in the, erm… belly region.”

  Right. Thank all the gods, Alexion saved her from having to drop more fumbling words in that sudden and chilly silence.

  “Then we’ve got our target,” he decided. “I can draw some manna out of the throne itself, if Oberyn wills. Get ready to move. Guards, fall in! You’re coming, too.”

  Those five loyal half-elves raced back from their sentry posts, vaulting fallen columns and cracks in the marble floor. Alexion had met and promoted them all, and he wouldn’t leave them behind. They weren’t his only concern. There were also four guards who’d been killed in the swallowing cavern. But restoring them would take time and a very strong spell. Shizilgastian level or… maybe Valerian. Later, in any case. Now, he was focused on transport, and that would be problem enough.

  As everyone gathered and the bells fell silent in Karellon, Alexion came to another decision. The dark-haired young emperor inclined his head, murmuring,

  “Lord of the Dawn, I will take service as Your sword-arm. Only, grant me the strength to port with these comrades to Nalderick’s side… and let us get there in time.”