As quickly as it had started, the surge of power ebbed away until at last Olio let go of the Key and stood up. He immediately swooned and started falling back. His vision was blurred and he could not make out the face of the man who caught him and pulled him away from the wondering crowd, but then he heard a familiar voice say: “I did not think we could do that.”
“Edaytor?” Olio asked weakly. “What did you do?”
“Added my knowledge of magic to the power lent you by the Key of the Heart. Can you walk, your Highness? I am not strong enough to carry you any farther. I want you away from this dock before someone recognizes you.”
Already some of the stevedores were pointing at the pair and using the word “miracle.” Olio nodded and staggered a few feet before Edaytor put his shoulder under one of the prince’s arms and helped him away from the harbor. They continued like that until they had reached one of the dark, narrow back streets behind the warehouses that lined the docks. They collapsed together against an old brick wall.
“I really wish you would bring an entourage with you when you leave the palace, your Highness,” Edaytor gasped, trying to catch his breath.
“What good would that do? Everyone would know who I am, and curtsy and p-p-prithee and p-p-petition. How could I explore the city then?”
“Better curtsied and pritheed and petitioned than stabbed by some malcontent. Especially down here on the docks where many are not from Kendra but the provinces and so less respectful of rich young noblemen and their purses.”
“Oh, God, a shame to die because someone thought I was a m-m-member of the Twenty Houses,” Olio joked, but his laughter sounded forced.
“I thought your family was one of the Twenty Houses.”
“Don’t tell my sister that.” Olio stood upright and immediately felt dizzy again. Edaytor was by his side instantly with a steadying arm. “What happened b—b-back there?”
“You healed a dying man.”
“B-b-but not by m-m-myself. It was your m-m-magic that m-m-made the Key work.”
Edaytor shook his bald head. “I don’t think so, your Highness. I’ve never been able to do anything like that before, and I’ve handled many magical artifacts. The Key worked because you were the channel.”
“Then why didn’t it work b-b-before you helped?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it is an ability you must develop. Were you ever tested for magic when you were young?”
“N-n-no.”
“Yet I suspect it runs in your family. That is not unusual. Certainly, your mother had the power. It also may be that the Keys only work effectively when they are all together, and singly need an outside source of magic. There is much to ponder on this.”
Olio smiled shyly. “B-b-but together, Edaytor, we can-work it.”
“At a price. We are both exhausted.”
Olio nodded wearily. “I’m afraid I am going to have to call off our tour. I cannot remember ever feeling so tired b-b-before.”
“Nor I. Come, your Highness, I will walk with you back to the palace.”
“B-b-but your own offices are near here. I am fine.”
Edaytor insisted, and together they made their way back up the avenue that wound its way through the city, ending in the climb to the palace’s main gate and two of the Royal Guards. Edaytor left the prince in safety. Olio watched the round prelate start his journey back to his own offices, wondering what he had done to deserve such devotion.
“Your Highness, we didn’t know you were out,” said one of the guards as he saluted him in.
“That was the whole p—p-point,” Olio said under his breath.
He paused in the courtyard, befuddled by exhaustion and all the questions in his head about what had happened on the docks. He badly wanted both to talk to someone about it before going to sleep. He decided to see Areava first; he thought she might have some knowledge from all her reading that might explain how he and Edaytor had performed their magic. He glanced up to her chambers and saw her figure silhouetted in the window. She was not alone. Olio did not have to guess who her companion was.
Well, sleep first, after all, he told himself, smiling. I will not disturb the love birds.
“I have your final spearman,” Sendarus said, holding up the piece in victory.
Areava ignored him and carefully studied the polygonal board in front of her. True, all her spearmen had been discovered and destroyed, but her city was still protected by two lancers and a duke, and she was sure her defenses would not easily be overcome.
Who knows, she mused to herself, he might even be foolish enough to send his sappers under my walls.
“Now the game is reduced to its essential,” Sendarus continued. “One player striving to breach the last barrier between him and his heart’s desire.”
“Your metaphor strains like a constipated old man,” she told him without looking up. “I forgo a move.”
“That is your last pass, your Majesty.” Sendarus rolled the numbered knuckle bones. “I count five.”
“That is a four. That bone is on its side.”
“Four, then.” He reached for one of his sappers and placed it under Areava’s parapets. Areava removed an ivory shield to reveal her neat row of waiting swordsmen. “Your piece is taken.” Sendarus blinked in surprise. “Swallowed whole like so much bait.”
“You played the whole time for defense!” Sendarus protested. “You never had any intention of attacking my city!”
“And now that your last offensive piece is devoured, I am left with all the high points. My game.”
Sendarus rested back in his chair and laughed. “You played me for a fool.”
“Not at all. I played you like a fish.”
Sendarus laughed even harder. Areava beamed.
“You fought hard, though,” she conceded. “I was not sure if you had started the game with the sapper or the battering ram. I could not have stopped the latter.”
“You can always stop me, your Majesty.” He caught her gaze. “And I will always surrender.”
She blushed, and stood quickly to hide it. “This has been a pleasant diversion, my lord, but I have business to attend to.” She pulled a bell cord near her desk.
“A diversion? Is that all I am?” He asked the question lightly enough, but his expression was tense.
Areava gently placed a hand against one of his cheeks.
“There is no other diversion like you in my kingdom,” she said.
He reached for her hand, but at that moment the door opened and Harnan bustled in, his arms filled with papers and scrolls.
Areava withdrew from Sendarus; he took the hint and stood, placing his hands behind his back. “I will see you later?” he whispered.
“Perhaps,” she said, but not unkindly.
He bowed to her and left, nodding to Harnan, who tried to bow and hold onto his papers at the same time.
“We have much to get through, your Majesty,” Harnan told Areava, and dumped his load on her desk.
“There is never a day when we don’t,” she said dryly.
“The life of a monarch has little pleasure, I know, your Majesty.”
The corners of her mouth curved into the slightest of smiles. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“You will not say your farewells to Sendarus?” Orkid asked.
Amemun shook his head and mounted the horse Orkid was holding for him. “We talked last night. There is no need for further words between us. Nothing I could say would make him fall more in love with your queen.”
“Our queen,” Orkid said.
“Yes, of course,” he said absently.
“That is the whole point of this exercise,” Orkid persisted. “If she had no legitimacy in our eyes, then there would be no value in bringing her and Sendarus together, and any progeny from them would have no more right to claim our fealty than a child from a whore.”