The Element of Fire - Martha Wells (best android ereader .txt) 📗
- Author: Martha Wells
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“Yes. I first conceived it in my cell in the Temple Prison at Bistrita. I had to think about something besides the torturers, and the death by fire that waited for me.” He looked down at his hand and stretched the fingers, contemplating the unbroken skin as if he did not quite recognize it as his own.
And perhaps he doesn’t, Thomas thought. He remembered the catalog of tortures the court documents had listed. Grandier was driven, dangerous, and intelligent, but not insane. It was almost as if he had passed into another phase of being that was not madness or sanity but some lawless ground in between.
Across the room, Aviler shifted a little, breaking the silence with a faint clink of chain, and Grandier said, “Then an emissary of the Unseelie Court appeared with their offer, which you know about already. Part of a scheme on their part to suborn a human sorcerer, to make the Host more powerful in our world. It’s a contest they have with the Seelie Court, their opposites in Fayre. Having a sorcerer at their beck and call would be a coup of sorts.” He shrugged. “They thought me a likely candidate.”
Thomas realized he was trying to control the conversation out of panic, and that Grandier was allowing him to do it. Try to be a little less transparent, he told himself. You’ve helped the man enough already. Grandier seemed to expect a comment, so he said only, “The more fools they.”
“I thought so.” Grandier smiled a little. “It’s not entirely their fault, the trusting creatures. They are accustomed to Fayre, which bends to their will. The mortal world has sharp edges, bends to no man’s will, and events occur with fatal finality. Mistakes are not suffered. Evadne was pressing me to give up this game and go on to something more entertaining. He was one of their self-proclaimed leaders, a very annoying character. He’s dead now, of course. I rather thought someone might kill him eventually. And I meant to tell you, Kade escaped through the ring and is presumably in Fayre, at the moment.”
That’s one mercy. Thomas fought not to show relief and asked, “Why are you helping Denzil?”
“The Duke has offered me what I want. A war with Bisra.”
“We’ve had a war with Bisra. It didn’t turn out that well for anyone.” But things began to fall into place. Ravenna would never have agreed to another war. They had been the victors of the last long conflict with their mortal enemies to the south only by a bare margin. Even if Roland had supported such a suicidal course, Aviler and the other High Lords and advisors would have prevented it at any cost.
“There was a war,” Grandier conceded. “But I was not involved. And I have the Host.”
Thomas thought of the monstrous turmoil in the undercellars. He said, “If you want to turn them loose on Bisra, be my guest, but why do you have to destroy us in the process?”
“I have no intention of destroying Ile-Rien. But I will have to alter it somewhat. Denzil needs the war to cement his position as usurper. When word leaks out that Vienne is under a virtual state of siege by creatures of Fayre, Bisra will move to take advantage. They need Ile-Rien’s wealth to maintain a balance of power with Parscia, on their southern border, and their Church fears any sorcery not under its control. Justifiably so.
“When the landed lords of Ile-Rien realize Bisra is marshalling its forces to attack, they will support any central authority that has a chance of marshalling a resistance. The Duke of Alsene will be that authority. Oh, that won’t be all. There is to be some document of formal abdication, signed by Roland. Under what circumstances, I don’t know.” He looked over at Aviler, who had been listening in a kind of horrified fascination. “That explains your presence. Your position allows you to deputize the King’s seal on state documents during an emergency when the King has been removed for his own safety. I doubt the originator of that particular tenet of courtlaw intended documents of abdication to be included in that category, and it would be laughed off if Roland’s supporters took power again, but Denzil intends to keep all his options open.”
Aviler looked away, his face grim. “I will not sign anything for Denzil, for you, or for the Prince of Hell himself.”
“I know.” Grandier nodded seriously. He turned back to Thomas. “Once the Bisran army crosses the border, and are no longer protected by their priests’ defenses, the Host will help to harry them and they will be driven back. At that time, outrage against the Bisrans will be so high it will not be difficult to turn an army of defense into an army of offense.”
Thomas shook his head in disbelief. “The Host participates in this out of the goodness of its collective heart? What did you offer them, the destruction of Lodun? What arethey going to do when you don’t keep up your end of the bargain?”
Grandier looked up, surprised and pleased. “Oh, very good. Go on.”
“Denzil’s motive is plain: he has to own everyone and everything around him. The Host wants the death of as many human sorcerers as possible. And you want Bisra. And I’d wager anything that you mean for no one to get what he wants except you.”
“And how will I accomplish this?” Grandier asked softly, eyes alight.
“I don’t know. But I don’t think you’ll let them destroy Lodun.”
“No, I would not let them do that.” For a moment his expression turned abstract. “Evadne was the one demanding I destroy Lodun. He is not a factor anymore.”
Grandier hesitated, his face craggy and harsh in the candlelight. “I don’t like Denzil; he is cunning and I will need help to manage him. But he will give me what I want, and so I must use him. Bisra will be struck by the might of your armies. Once their priests can no longer defend them from the fay, I can further the collapse. In time, there will be nothing left but to sow salt into the empty fields…and Bisra will cease to be. It will probably take many years, I know, but I have the time.” He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. “I regret the necessity of a long war that will have ill effect on this land, but I really can’t see any other way to start the process of collapse. You will agree that an all-out conflict can be particularly devastating.”
Thomas just looked at him. There was nothing to be said. Grandier was setting forces in motion he couldn’t possibly control. The old sorcerer might never see his goal accomplished, but he would see years of destruction.
Quietly, desperately, Aviler said, “What you are planning—dreaming—will never come to pass.”
Grandier got slowly to his feet, as if the cold hurt his back. “I have ridden the tide of events for many years. I am quite capable of guiding it now.”
Thomas looked up at him, and knew any argument was useless, but he said, “You are mad. You’re handing the kingdom to Denzil, and he doesn’t give a penny damn for you or your plans.”
“That remains to be seen.”
In a tone of quiet rage, Aviler said, “I hope you burn in Hell with your damned fay allies.”
Grandier chuckled. “I have already burned in Hell. You see the result. Heaven help us all if it happens again.”
Thomas said, “Has Denzil noticed that anyone who gets in your way dies?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet, at any rate. But then, you’re not dead, and you were certainly in my way.”
Not nearly enough, Thomas thought. “That’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?”
“It’s what I’m told.” Grandier regarded him silently, then said seriously, “There is one more thing. The Queen… The Dowager Queen Ravenna is dead.”
Thomas felt the silence stretch, felt Aviler staring at him. Calmly he said, “You’re lying.”
“Not about this. She was trying to protect Roland. She succeeded and destroyed several important members of the Host in the process.”
“You’re lying.” Thomas tried to stand and the chains jerked him back to his knees. He didn’t notice.
Grandier closed his eyes a moment. “No. There are some things I regret, but this isn’t one of them. She was too dangerous.”
And then he knew it was true. “You fucking bastard!” he shouted at him.
Grandier turned to go and Thomas said, “You are a coward. You didn’t have to do this.”
His back to Thomas, Grandier paused in the doorway, but then continued out.
Thomas sank back against the wall. Aviler said, “It is a lie, surely.”
“No. No, it’s not.” It was the last thing he said for several hours.
KADE LANDED AWKWARDLY in the high velvet grass of the Knockma ring and rolled to her feet. She pressed her hands to her temples and tried to concentrate, feeling the lines of force radiating out from the ring around her. She reached out along them to open a ring in the maze court below the Old Palace. She opened her eyes and saw the green sward of Knockma, the menhirs standing around her in silent contemplation, and in the distance, the mist-shrouded column of the castle and its reflection.
She snarled, shrugged out of her coat, and tried again.
After four failures she knew it was no good; she couldn’t form a ring inside the palace. What did Grandier do? He would have had to ward the palace against her, that would take… But traveling the rings from the palace to Knockma, to Aviler’s house and back here, had distorted her sense of time’s passage. By the sky, they had lost nearly an hour on coming to Knockma and returning to the city. Moving from the less powerful ring she had made at the High Minister’s house and coming back, she could have lost more than that.
Grandier could have begun the spells against her when he was alerted to her and Thomas’s presence in the palace. It would not have taken long if he used the wards already in place. No time at all if he had used another keystone prepared earlier when he had first known she was coming to court.
Kade knotted her hands in her hair until the pain stopped the rise of bile in her throat.
She opened her eyes. Boliver was standing at the edge of the ring, watching her and scratching his bearded chin. He said, “What happened?”
“They have him,” she said simply.
His eyes widened a little. After a moment he shuffled his feet, then said, “What are we going to do, then?”
“Wait here.” She scrambled to her feet, touched the power in the ring, and took that step that carried her away.
The cold embraced her first. Kade had left her coat in the forever-spring of Knockma. She was outside the palace wall, near the Postern Gate where she and Thomas had got in earlier that day. The square with its broken fountain was still empty of life in the gathering dusk, the buildings staring down at her with gaping dark windows.
Kade stepped out of the newly formed ring in the snow and moved to the gate, and the hair on the back of her neck rose. Cursing, she dug in a pocket for the last of the gascoign powder she had with her and rubbed it into the corners of her eyes.
The wards rose up from the ground in front of her in a corona of light, stretching up
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