To Ride Hell’s Chasm. Janny Wurts
came and went as she added, ‘The oldest of them is barely fourteen years of age. The girls make up beds, and sweep cobwebs from corners the older drudges can’t reach. The strongest ones haul the hot water for the laundresses, and probably stoke the fires under the cauldrons that scald your evening bath water.’
Prince Kailen agreed that the hirelings posed Anja no threat. ‘The girls are the offspring of farmers known back to the seventh generation. They don’t read or write. I doubt any one of them has travelled a step past the riverfront market, and Taskin himself runs the inquiry to make sure they are of good character.’
The heir apparent of Devall frowned and changed tack. ‘What about Princess Anja? Lady Shai, you know her, none better. Did she show no sign of tension, no change in habits?’
‘By glory, you men!’ Shai regarded her paired escort in amazement. ‘Princess Anja is madly in love! Every habit she had has been thrown topsyturvy, which left every one of us guessing.’
‘What about make-up?’ the foreign prince pressed. ‘Did her Grace use more powder or eye paint than usual, perhaps to mask signs of strain?’
‘Of course she would, silly! For excitement, not strain!’ Shai dealt the lowcountry prince’s wrist a light slap with her veil, as though he were a dense-witted brother. ‘Any maiden offered a match such as yours would take pains to maintain her best looks. Particularly her Grace, who never cared if she freckled from too much sun, or scratched her skin in the brambles.’
The Prince of Devall looked down, perhaps abashed, his ringed hands clasped in tight anguish. ‘I want her back, safe! You must know, she is dear to me. Scrapes and freckles notwithstanding, I love her for her sharp wits, and her reckless humour, and for the sterling kindness that makes Sessalie’s people adore her.’ He glanced up, his features drawn to wounded entreaty. ‘I could search my whole life and not take a finer woman to wife, or bring home a stronger queen for my realm. I need Anja because she has captured my heart, until I could look at no other.’
Shai touched her crushed veil to her lips; her violet eyes welled with tears. ‘Oh, your Highness, I see how you cherish her. Don’t you think I would give anything to restore her Grace to your side?’ Shoulders bowed, she struggled to master her grief. ‘Nothing I know could have caused the princess to leave us. Beyond any doubt, she must be in the hands of someone who seeks Sessalie’s ruin.’
‘You didn’t notice anything amiss?’ Prince Kailen pleaded, low-voiced and equally desperate. ‘Anything, Shai, no matter how small. That one little detail might hold the clue to safeguard the princess’s life.’
As the maiden shook her head in distress, the High Prince of Devall entreated, ‘Think carefully, lady. You may not be aware, but last night, one of the palace drudges was found dead, with no mark on her of natural causes.’
Shai widened filled eyes. ‘Mercy on that poor woman, and upon all of us, for our failure. I’ve told Taskin I know nothing again and again!’
Torn raw, Shai appealed to Prince Kailen. ‘Your Highness of Sessalie, I scarcely saw her Grace more than a moment, and only from a distance since the Prince of Devall rode with his train through our gates! On that hour, the princess was giddy, even breathless with excitement. I swear by every bright power above, she could not have suspected the least shadow of danger. She had but one thought, one dream, on her mind. That guiding star was the name of his Highness of Devall, who came to lay claim to her hand!’
‘That’s quite enough!’ cracked an intrusive aged voice. ‘Your Highnesses, yes! Both of you.’ A stick-thin old matron invaded the grotto, fierce carriage as upright as any commander laying into brash recruits.
‘The Duchess of Phail,’ Prince Kailen murmured, a wry curve to his lips. ‘Don’t let her fool you. She’s a treasure with steel principles, and an unbending penchant for kindness. Used to rescue the frogs I brought home in my pockets, and box the ears of the pages if she caught them at bullying spiders.’
The elderly woman bore in, her porcelain-fine frame stiff with outrage. ‘Can’t you rude brutes see a thing with young eyes? Lady Shai is already devastated. Your badgering questions just add to her heartbreak without helping the princess one bit.’
‘Lady Phail, we are going,’ Prince Kailen said, his hands raised in abject surrender. ‘Trust me, we respect Lady Shai and have no desire to savage her feelings.’
Lady Phail gave a snort through her patrician nose. ‘Well, that broth of tears has already been spilled!’
Her disgusted glance measured one prince, then the other, as though she debated which of the pair most deserved to be thrashed with her cane. In the end, Shai’s distress put an end to debate, inept male minds not being wont to give ground for any wise woman’s sensibilities. Lady Phail ploughed straight on past, clasped her frail arms over the weeping woman’s bowed shoulders, and delivered a glare like a lioness.
‘Get along, boys! You’re making things that much worse with your gawping.’
Hazed past the finesse of his lowcountry manners, the High Prince of Devall bowed and beat a retreat. Kailen, no fool, snatched his sleeve as he turned, and deflected his course down a bypath that wound through the shrubbery. The tactic was timely. Past the screening of leaves, a bouquet of coloured silk flashed in the midday sunshine. Bertarra’s carping rose loudest over the chorus as the other court ladies descended to console Lady Shai.
The heir apparent of Devall glanced over his shoulder in bemused appreciation. ‘Your sister rules that shark pack of harpies?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Kailen grinned. ‘With all of our mother’s cast-iron charm.’ As though his sore head had begun to relent, his blue eyes brightened with fond memory. ‘Bertarra’s scared green of her.’
‘Well, I see how your sister acquired her strong will.’ Broken out of the fringing border of evergreen, the Prince of Devall approached the stone arch leading back to the sanctuary courtyard. ‘We’re no closer to finding where Anja might be.’
‘Well, you’ve satisfied one point,’ said Kailen, dispirited. ‘Lady Shai doesn’t know anything.’
‘That,’ said the high prince, ‘or else she’s a consummate actress.’
‘Lady Shai?’ Prince Kailen glanced sideways in unbridled surprise. ‘She’s intelligent, and no fool. But she’s never dissembled, not once in her life.’
The gate’s shadow fell over them. Gloom darkened the heir apparent’s maroon velvet to black, and muted the shine of his rubies and gold studs. His profile, trained forward, showed no expression.
‘The suspicion’s unfounded,’ insisted the crown prince. ‘When my sister played pranks, it was always Shai’s face that got her Grace into trouble.’
‘Not this time, to our sorrow.’ The heir apparent of Devall stalked towards the steep stair and began his descent, his fierce steps ringing on the carved granite. ‘You do realize, I will find her Grace, no matter the means or the cost. If an enemy has marked her out for a target, I shall not rest until they are smoked out. Your realm’s honour and mine are as one in this matter. As Devall’s High Prince, I promise this much: when we catch the man who has dared to lay hands on my beloved, I will see him sentenced to the ugliest death allotted by law in my realm.’
By the change in the watch, Commander Taskin had questioned the wine steward’s boys and ascertained that none had seen the sorcerer’s mark on the broom closet. The bottled vintage brought upstairs for the feast had been fetched in the late afternoon the day prior. No one but the drudge who swept and mopped tables had occasion to visit the cellars during the evening. The old woman who was dead of an unknown cause, since the king’s most learned physician had encountered no proof of a poisoning.
The patrols ridden out to search by the river had lamed a good horse, finding nothing. By now, any trail would be chopped to muck, since the seneschal’s move to involve the crown council had posted an official note of reward. Brash adventurers from all walks of life scoured the