The rain slacked off from downpour to drizzle as we waited. I invited Qis'Dar to sit inside the carriage with me, but he said he couldn't get any wetter staying out, and he'd as soon not have to dry out the carriage so much before he returned it to its owner. He waited beside the carriage door.
Without light enough to read further in the book that sat so heavily on my lap . . . and on my mind … I watched the armed Dar'Nethi stream into the sprawling courtyards. They mustered in small bands here and there, and once a group reached a certain size—twenty or twenty-five—they marched into a brightly lit, cordoned-off area in front of the main gates. Fifty, a hundred, two hundred fighters. Where were they all going? The palace gates never opened. But, of course, we were in Avonar, a city of sorcerers. Someone in that brightly lit area must have opened a portal and be transporting the fighters out of Avonar. Into the northern Wastes? East to Lyrrathe and Astolle? I shivered. Waited. And still the warriors came.
"I think we've got our answer," said Qis'Dar, softly, through the window.
I returned my attention to the west gate. A small party of men, clad in the white-and-silver tabards of the palace guard, marched purposefully toward the carriage. All were armed. Je'Reint was not among them.
"Qis'Dar, perhaps you'd better . . ." But before I could send the youth away, the leader of the party shouted at him to hold his position.
"Your name, boy," snapped the soldier as soon as he arrived.
"My name is Qis'Dar yn Gar'Feil," said my young friend, his head held high, "and I do yield that name willing to a servant of the Heir. I'll say, though, as a citizen of Avonar, having it demanded so rudely in sight of D'Arnath's house tempts me to refuse."
The soldier, a grim, spare man wearing the silver chain of a guard captain, was not chastened by Qis'Dar's dignified protest. The captain nodded to one of his companions, who yanked open the carriage door. "You, madam, will please step out."
I had little choice. The cab had no secondary exit, and I couldn't see anything to prevent these men from coming in after me. Cursing my naive assumption that Je'Reint would either hear me out or send me discreetly on my way, I took the soldier's proffered hand and climbed out.
"Your name, madam?"
I considered giving the Dar'Nethi name I had been using, but I believed this man already knew who we were. "My name is Seriana Marguerite, widow to your late Prince D'Natheil."
As I had surmised, the guard captain was not at all surprised. He nodded, but neither extended his palms nor bowed. An ominous sign. "Lady Seriana Marguerite, by order of Commander Je'Reint on behalf of Her Grace, the Princess of Avonar, you are under arrest for conspiracy against the kingdom of Avonar and its sovereign Heir. You will follow me."
While I grappled with the implications of his warrant—Her Grace, the Princess of Avonar —his men quickly positioned themselves on either side and behind me.
The captain was not yet finished. "Qis'Dar yn Gar'-Feil, you are dismissed, remanded into the custody of your parents. Get yourself home immediately, and do not stray. Be warned that if you are seen again in the company of these certain conspirators, you will be liable for criminal charges. If you are found in company with the Fourth Lord of Zhev'Na, you will be executed."
"But I've done nothing wrong!" protested the youth. "Only driven this lady—" He turned to me, eyes wide in his pale complexion. "Prince D'Natheil's lady . . ."
"You've been coerced into matters far above your head, boy. Give us the lady's belongings, then take your rig and get yourself home."
One of the guardsmen nudged Qis'Dar away from me and toward the carriage. The youth unloaded my case and the small bag holding my journal and passed them to the guard. "My lady, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Did you have anything else in here?" He stuck his head inside the cab.
"It's all right, Qis'Dar. You've done nothing wrong. I'll have this straightened out soon enough. Oh, and the book on the carriage seat is one I borrowed from your cousin to read on the journey. Please see it's returned right away before it's damaged by the damp."
"Of course, my lady," he said. He stood alone and forlorn beside the carriage as the soldiers grabbed my two bags and marched me toward the gate.
I'd not considered being arrested as a way to get inside the palace, but as the iron gate clanged shut behind me and I hurried my steps to keep up with the guards, I decided it was as good as any. At some time I would be taken before someone in authority and could tell what I knew. If D'Sanya was present, she would have to explain in front of other people what it meant that her father had declared he had no daughter, and how it could be right that she had taken what her own father would forbid her.
We emerged from the wide tunnels under the gate towers into a broad, bustling courtyard. Torches blazed on every side, hissing and smoking in the continuing drizzle. A small party of armed horsemen clustered at the far end of the court, while aides and armorers splashed through puddles, carrying newly polished weapons and breastplates. Grooms led more horses from another gate and other men and women loaded panniers and packs. A hundred or more soldiers formed up in ranks, water cascading from helms and shields. Across the courtyard was a columned doorway into the palace proper, but instead of leading me there, the guard captain halted beside a carriage with horses hitched and motioned me to climb up.
"Wait!" I said, dismayed as the guardsmen surrounded me and forced me into the carriage. One of the soldiers tossed my luggage in beside me and slammed the door. "Where are you sending me?"
"To the Princess D'Sanya's hospice," said the captain. "The princess has graciously forbidden retribution on those who have conspired against her. As she herself was so thoroughly duped by this inheritor of Zhev'Na, she refuses to condemn others who were taken in by his wiles, especially those of his blood who are understandably blind to his evils. She cannot, of course, allow you to roam freely, lest you persist in your support of Avonar's enemies. But Commander Je'Reint has vouched for your character and suggested the hospice as your place of confinement. He says that your sworn word that you will not leave the hospice grounds will be sufficient bond to keep you there. Do you so swear or must we constrain your movements in some other fashion?"
They were sending me to Karon. But I couldn't go … not until they knew about D'Sanya. "Captain, I must speak to Commander Je'Reint or Prince Ven'Dar before I go, or to one of the Preceptors. Please, I have information of vital importance to Avonar."
"Commander Je'Reint is on his way to the battlefront. No one else is available." The captain stepped aside and spoke quietly to the man who had climbed up to the driver's bench. The other soldiers had withdrawn.
I scanned the busy courtyard for some familiar face, someone I could entrust with what I knew, but everyone had hoods drawn up against the rain . . . except a small group silhouetted against the now-open entry to the palace at the top of the steps. A tall, graceful man with skin the color of mahogany genuflected before a statuesque woman. The woman's hands were extended palms up, offering her service and support to her subject. And in acceptance of her trust and her commission, Je'Reint laid his hands atop hers, a pledge of fealty the Dar'Nethi considered as binding as the presentation of a sword in Leire.
Je'Reint rose, bowed, and sped down the steps to a horse held by a waiting groom. He bounded into the saddle, wheeled his mount, and shouted an unintelligible command, then led the horsemen and the ranks of soldiers through the gates.