The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [9]
The queen had been silent all night, but while they were still some distance from the city gates she turned to him.
“Sir Neil, I have a task for you.”
“Majesty, I am yours to command.”
She nodded. “You must find Anne. You must find the only daughter I have left.”
Neil gripped his reins tighter. “That is the one thing I cannot do, Majesty.”
“It is my command.”
“My duty is to Your Majesty. When the king knighted me, I was sworn to stay at your side, to protect you from all danger. I cannot do that if I am traveling afar.”
“The king is dead,” Muriele said, her voice growing a bit harsher. “I command you now. You will do this thing for me, Sir Neil.”
“Majesty, please do not ask this of me. If harm should befall you—”
“You are the only one I can trust,” Muriele interrupted. “Do you think I want to send you from my side? To send away the one person I know will never betray me? But that is why you must go. Those who killed my other daughters now seek Anne—I’m certain of it. She remains alive because I sent her away, and no one at the court knows where she is. If I trust any other than you with her location, I compromise that knowledge and open my daughter to even greater danger. If I tell only you, I know the secret is still safe.”
“If you believe her secure where she is, should you not leave her there?”
“I cannot be sure. Erren intimated that the danger is still great.”
“The danger to Your Majesty is great. Whoever employed the assassins that slew your husband and daughters meant to kill you, as well. They still do, surely.”
“Surely. I am not arguing with you, Sir Neil. But I have given my command. You will make ready for a long journey. You will leave tomorrow. Pick the men who will guard me in your absence—I trust your judgment more than my own in such matters. But for your own task you must travel alone, I fear.”
Neil bowed his head. “Yes, Majesty.”
The queen’s voice softened. “I am sorry, Sir Neil. I truly am. I know how badly your heart has been hurt. I know how keen your sense of duty is and how terribly it was wounded at Cal Azroth. But you must do this thing for me. Please.”
“Majesty, I would beg all day if I thought you would change your mind, but I see that you won’t.”
“You have good vision.”
Neil nodded. “I will do as you command, Majesty. I will be ready by morning.”
CHAPTER TWO
Z’ESPINO
ANNE DARE, YOUNGEST DAUGHTER of the Emperor of Crotheny, Duchess of Rovy, knelt by a cistern and scrubbed clothes with raw and blistered hands. Her shoulders ached and her knees hurt, and the sun beat her like a golden hammer.
Only a few yards away, children played in the cool shade of a grape arbor, and two ladies in gowns of silk brocade sat sipping wine. Anne’s own dress—a secondhand shift of cotton—hadn’t been washed in days. She sighed, wiped her brow, and made sure her red hair was secure beneath her scarf. She sneaked a longing glance at the two women and continued her work.
She cast her mind away from her hands, a trick she was becoming quite adept at, and imagined herself back home, riding her horse Faster on the Sleeve or eating roasted quail and trout in green sauce, with gobs of fried apples and clotted cream for desert.
Scrub, scrub, went her hands.
She was imagining a cool bath when she suddenly felt a sharp pinch on her rump. She turned to find a boy about four or five years younger than she—perhaps thirteen—grinning as if he’d just told the best joke in the world.
Anne slapped the clothes onto the scrubbing board and spun on him. “You horrible little beast!” she shouted. “You’ve no more manners than—!”
She caught the women looking at her then, their faces hard.
“He pinched me,” she explained. And just to be sure they understood, she pointed. “There.”
One of the women—a blue-eyed, black-haired casnara named da Filialofia—merely slitted her eyes. “Who exactly do you think you are?” she asked,