The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

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СКАЧАТЬ hallway emptied into a large foyer, two stories tall. Massive walnut doors stood opposite the front door. They were shut tight.

      A nervous-looking servant in sword-and-flame High Wizard livery hurried forward to intercept Han. “I’m sorry, my lord, but the council is now in session and cannot be interrupted.” He motioned to a salon off the main foyer. “If you would care to wait in there, I will bring you refreshment. Some wine, perhaps?”

      “The council is already in session?” Han glanced up at the massive clock on the mantel in the salon. “Already? Isn’t it early?”

      The servant nodded. “Everyone had arrived, so Lord Bayar called the meeting to order.”

      “If the council is meeting, I should be in there,” Han said. “I’m Hanson Alister, the queen’s representative.”

      The servant blanched. “Lord Alister? But Lord Bayar said that you were not coming.” He raised both hands as if he thought Han might strike him dead on the spot.

      “What is your name?” Han asked the trembling man.

      “H—Hammersmith, my lord,” the servant said. “I assure you, had I known that—”

      “Don’t worry, Hammersmith.” Han patted the man on the shoulder, nearly giving him a seizure. “You’re not in any trouble. Lord Bayar didn’t know my plans had changed, that’s all. I’ll just go on in.”

      “B—b—but, the door, sir. It’s magicked. Anyone who enters risks—”

      “I believe I might have the key,” Han said. “Let’s just see.”

      Taking hold of his amulet, he used Crow’s charm to reveal the magic overlaying the door. It was familiar; Crow had taught him the countercharm at Oden’s Ford.

      “I can handle this.” Han disabled the charm and stood aside. “Would you announce me, please?”

      Hammersmith approached the door as one might a dud firework. Gingerly, he tugged it open a crack, sweat pebbling his forehead. Then smiled back at Han when nothing exploded.

      Throwing the doors wide, he stepped forward and called out in a carrying voice, “Lord Hanson Alister, representing Her Majesty, Queen Raisa ana’Marianna.”

      Han walked through the doorway. Heads turned all around the room.

      It was a plush space, for sure. One entire wall was glass, overlooking the Vale and the city of Fellsmarch. Banners of the wizard houses hung on the other three walls.

      The scene was oddly festive yet funereal. Fancy food and drink were laid out on a sideboard, and ornate chairs with carved arms ringed a massive walnut table. Black candles sputtered in candelabras the length of the table, and those seated around the perimeter wore grim, solemn expressions. Black ribbons decorated their amulets.

      Two chairs stood vacant. One was wrapped with black crepe. For one wild moment, Han thought perhaps this memorial was for him, that his death had already been announced.

      But then he recalled that nobody here would mourn him, except, perhaps, Abelard.

      Lord Bayar sat on a slightly raised dais at one end of the table, a stack of documents in front of him. When he laid eyes on Han, his dark brows drew together in surprise and annoyance.

      I wasn’t supposed to make it here, Han thought. So where was the ambush meant to happen? Somewhere along the road? Or before I even left town?

      Dean Abelard sat to Lord Bayar’s right, looking glum. When she saw Han, she straightened, shifting her eyes to Bayar as if to capture his reaction. Then she sat back in her chair, her fingers beating a triumphant staccato on the table.

      Guess she wasn’t all that confident in me, Han thought.

      Micah Bayar sat across the table from her, to his father’s left, eying Han with an expression of resigned contempt. He didn’t look surprised. Either he hadn’t known about the plan to ambush Han, or he’d anticipated that Han would somehow evade it.

      Adam Gryphon occupied the seat nearest the door, a bemused expression on his face. Han’s former teacher seemed thinner and paler than Han remembered, as if the northern climate didn’t agree with him.

      One other wizard completed the circle, a plump, nervous-looking man in blueblood finery.

      “Alister,” Lord Bayar said. “It is customary for council members to arrive a few minutes early, so that we can begin on time. When you didn’t come, I assumed that you’d had second thoughts about your ability to represent the queen in this forum.”

      “I wouldn’t miss it,” Han said, making his way around the table to the sideboard. He piled a small plate with cheese and fruit and poured himself some cider, though there was wine on offer. Since he wasn’t expected to be there, he guessed it was safe to eat.

      Han carried his plate to a seat opposite Adam Gryphon while the rest of the council stared at him with a mixture of perplexity and affront. “I’m looking forward to learning more about wizard politics,” Han said, popping a grape into his mouth.

      Gryphon and Abelard fought back smiles.

      “There are four issues on the agenda, Alister,” the High Wizard said. “The recent killings of wizards in the uplands, the murders of the gifted in the city, the replacement of Lord deVilliers on the council, and the election of a new High Wizard to serve alongside our newly crowned queen.” He paused as if waiting for Han to catch up.

      Lord deVilliers? Han thought. Why would Lord deVilliers need replacing?

      “Item one,” Lord Bayar said. “This is what we know now. Four wizards were killed by copperhead savages in a skirmish near Marisa Pines Camp. Along with Lord deVilliers, they murdered three students from the academy. One was Dolph’s nephew.”

      Bloody bones, Han thought. So the older wizard killed on Hanalea was deVilliers—the council member Abelard had named as an ally. No wonder she looks so woesome. Her face was as hard and chalky as the cliffs along the Indio.

      “Lord deVilliers will be sorely missed.” Bayar gestured toward the vacant black-draped chair. “The Demonai have admitted responsibility. They claim the wizards were killed on clan lands, in the act of abducting copperhead children. Though the children were retrieved, supposedly one was injured during the incident.”

      “One was injured,” Han said. “She is recovering. A six-year-old girl.”

      “Who told you that?” Bayar rolled his eyes.

      “Nobody told me. I was there.”

      “You were there?” Abelard glared at him as if he should have cleared it with her. “What for?”

      “I had business at Marisa Pines Camp,” Han said, deciding to keep his role in the chase to himself. “I saw the girl. Her name is Skips Stones.”

      If Han thought the use of her name would engender any compassion in this crowd, he was wrong.

      “Well, I don’t believe it,” the plump, worried-looking wizard said. He was dressed in velvet and lace, wearing an amulet big as a temple СКАЧАТЬ