The Queen of Death

23

Kandler and Burch strode into the room. Ledenstrae stood, but he did not offer a hand in friendship. Majeeda sat, her eyes burning with such anger that Kandler feared they might set her dry, crinkly skin on fire.

“Get away from her,” Kandler said to Ledenstrae. The fangblade was in his hand.

Burch held his crossbow pointed at the ground. Kandler knew he could put a bolt straight through Majeeda’s skull before she could draw another breath. Of course, she didn’t need to breathe.

Ledenstrae offered Kandler and Burch a strained smile. “I understand what you feel you must do here, but you don’t understand how pointless your objections are.”

“You sure know how to sweet talk your friends,” Burch said.

Ledenstrae put up his hands in mock surrender. “Permit me to explain.,” he said. “I only have my daughter’s best interests at heart in this matter.”

Kandler wondered if he could stab the man through the heart before Majeeda could stop him. As tempting as the idea seemed, when he glanced at Esprë it melted into frustration. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to murder her father in front of her—not if there was any way to prevent it.

Ledenstrae chuckled. “I have made no such threats. I explained the situation to Esprë as it is. If she bears the Mark of Death, then she must die—for the good of all.”

The elf gazed at his daughter. “Would you put your single life above that of every other elf? Once word spreads that you bear the Mark of Death—if, in fact, you do—legions will hunt you down to kill you. Would you want to condemn your entire race to oblivion along with yourself?”

Esprë sat bolt upright in her chair, her lower lip trembling. “No,” she said, her voice softer than a whisper. “No,” she said, louder. “I couldn’t have that.”

Kandler wanted nothing more than to hold her right then, to make everything all right for her, but he feared if he pulled his attention away from the others it would all go bad. As Esprë’s eyes began to redden, he raised the tip of the fangblade toward Ledenstrae and put his free arm around his stepdaughter.

Majeeda muttered something cold under her breath, but Ledenstrae cut her off with a sharp snap of his neck. The words caught in the deathless elf’s dry throat like leaves in a hollow log.

“There are other ways,” Kandler said to Ledenstrae, his arm still around Esprë. “Once we leave here, we’re off to Argonnessen to confront this problem head on.”

Majeeda’s eyes widened so far that Kandler wondered if the desiccated orbs behind her lids might fall out. “I see that you must love my daughter,” Ledenstrae said, “to embrace such folly. I’m impressed, although I’m not sure if it’s by bravery or stupidity.”

“They’re not always so far apart,” said Burch.

Kandler squinted at Ledenstrae. “What if Esprë doesn’t bear the Mark of Death?”

The elf smiled. “Then no one would be happier than me. I would have her accompany me back to Aerenal so that I could prove to the world that she was innocent of the crime of being born of such tainted blood.”

“And if she didn’t want to go?”

Ledenstrae grimaced. “That would be foolish in the extreme. Already five groups are aware of her growing powers. If we cannot prove her innocent of the charges against her, they will hunt her just to be sure. This is no Brelish court with your pedestrian ideas about innocence. Perception is just as important as reality.”

“Five groups?” Kandler said. He did a quick count in his head. First there had been the Blood of Vol and the Knights of the Silver Flame and then the dragons of Argonnessen. Later, there had been the Stillborn elves they’d fought in the Goradra Gap, and now the Undying Court.

He looked down at Esprë. She hadn’t been there that long before he showed up again. “How much did you tell them?” “Very little.” She spoke as honestly and openly as ever. Kandler stared at Ledenstrae, sizing him up. “You’re one of the Stillborn.”

Te’oma cursed Duro and every one of his ancestors as she tumbled away from the airship. She hadn’t cared much for this plan in the first place, and as she fell, spreading her bloodwings out to catch herself in midair, it seemed worse than ever. The wind filled the batlike appendages, and the changeling swooped away from the onrushing ground in an inelegant arc.

After a moment, Te’oma brought her flight under control. As her wings beat, keeping her in the air, she turned to look back at the top of the cliffside. Already the dockworkers there had spotted her and started to point at her and yell for assistance.

She pumped her bloodwings hard, pulling herself higher and higher into the sky. As she went, she heard more voices join in the shouting, then the telltale clack-clack-clack of a siege engine being cranked around on a pivoting base. She looked down just in time to see the ballista being aimed straight at her heart.

Te’oma folded her wings close to her and let gravity resume its pull. As she dropped, the long, thick bolt from the ballista zipped through the air, right where she had just been.

The changeling spun around and saw Xalt, Duro, and Sallah hacking away at the spots on the airship from which the mooring chains hung. Under Monja’s guidance, the Phoenix pulled away from the airdock hard and fast, stretching those chains taut. It would not take much damage to the mooring cleats for them to spring loose. So far, the plan seemed to be working.

Then Te’oma heard a lever being yanked back hard. She glanced toward the other turret nearest the dock and saw the arm of the catapult there slam forward, launching a blazing ball of fiery pitch in her direction.

Ledenstrae cracked a nervous smile. “It might be more accurate to consider me a silent supporter of their aims.”

“You sent them after us?” Esprë said. Kandler squeezed her shoulder.

“They were meant to bring you to me,” Ledenstrae said. “I had no guarantee that you would come toward Valenar. If you had decided to head for Q’barra or other parts unknown, our chance to intercept you might have been lost.”

“They almost killed us,” Esprë said. “They murdered the dwarves’ lookouts.”

Ledenstrae shrugged. “When compared to the fate of our race, such sacrifices do not budge the scales.”

“They were ready to kill me.”

Ledenstrae waited to see if Esprë would let her anger carry her farther along. Instead, she sat stone still and stared at him. Then she placed a hand on Kandler’s where it rested on her shoulder.

“I do not regret the decisions I’ve made,” said Ledenstrae. “The stakes are too high. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see your dragonmark and put any questions about it behind us.”

Sallah hacked at the straining mooring cleat with her flaming blade. Her blow removed a chunk of wood near the base of the cleat, and the groan of the stretching chains grew louder.

Duro’s axe bit into the gunwale on the other side of the cleat. “Wood is weaker than metal,” the dwarf said. “We’ll be free faster than a rockslide.”

Sallah grunted in response. Toward the aft of the ship, Xalt chopped at the cleat there with an axe he’d found in the hold.

A ballista bolt whizzed overhead, then Sallah felt a blast of heat as a ball of blazing pitch arced through the air above the ship. She glanced up and saw Te’oma try to wriggle out of the way, but the massive missile smacked into one of her bloodwings and sent her spinning out of the sky, that wing already ablaze.

A cheer went up from the guards in the turrets and the dockworkers below. Then one of them spotted what Sallah and the others were trying to do and raised an alarm.

One more blow, Sallah told herself. She put everything she had into the strike.

It would not take long for the guards to reload their heavy weapons. If the Phoenix hadn’t broken free by then, the guards would pick her apart like a snared bear. A crossbow bolt zinged by the knight’s ear to emphasize that point.

Sallah’s swing cut into the gunwale at the same time as Duro’s next blow. Already under tremendous pressure, the cleat sprang free from the wood to which it had been attached.

The chain jerked back then fell loose like a cut bowstring. The airship’s prow swung away from the dock so fast that Sallah lost her footing and tumbled to the deck next to Duro. The dwarf grinned at her from ear to ear.

“That’s how I like to see a plan work!” he said.

Sallah noticed that they weren’t moving any farther. Toward the aft of the ship, the chain still hung on, and Xalt had crumbled to the deck too. He struggled to stand, but the axe that had been in his hand was nowhere to be seen.

“I think you spoke too soon,” she said as she scrambled to her feet and tried to ignore the dwarf’s curses.