The Queen's Poisoner
Page 81
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One of the lesser nobles raised his hand. “What does the child say?”
The king looked at him, confused.
“The child’s last prediction. You recall it! He said the pinecone fell into the river. In this vision, the hook saved the eel from the river, did it not?”
“A good point, Rufus,” said one of the prelates, seated on his left. “It did indeed! It saved the eel from the river!”
The king turned to look at Ratcliffe, who had rushed up to him. “My lord,” said the spymaster, hardly able to contain his agitation. “My lord, you cannot look to a boy as your source of knowing the Fountain’s will! You would risk far too much, it would be—”
“A miracle?” the king interrupted softly. The room settled down, but Owen’s stomach churned in anticipation.
“You don’t believe the boy’s Fountain-blessed, Dickon, do you?”
“I do not,” Ratcliffe responded angrily without a pause. His voice was low and urgent. “I think he’s a tool being used to dupe you. My liege, if you hearken to him, she will have you. She will have tricked and deceived you. The woman is alive. I tell you, she is. I didn’t know her name until I heard Dunsdworth speak it, but he swears he saw her in the kitchen. The kitchen! Where else does the boy play his silly games but there? My lord, my friend, you must trust me on this! That woman is the most dangerous person in your realm. Even more dangerous than Tunmore. Ask Horwath. Even he fears her.”
A spasm of worry shot through Owen as he realized they were talking about Ankarette. The euphoria turned into nausea in his stomach.
“And what do you say, Stiev?” the king asked, turning his attention to the grizzled duke who was lounging in a stuffed chair within view of the spyhole.
There was a long moment of silence. He stared at the tabletop and slowly drummed his fingers. “According to the official records, Ankarette Tryneowy plunged to her death in a boat. If she lived, your brother never told me, Your Majesty.” Ratcliffe’s face twisted with impatience, but the king’s attention was wholly focused on the old duke.
“But?” Severn prompted.
“But,” continued the duke. “I have harbored some suspicions of my own. In the North, we throw the condemned off the mountain falls. In all our histories, only the Fountain-blessed have survived this test. If the queen’s poisoner is Fountain-blessed, as we suspect, perhaps she did not perish in the falls.” He fell silent again, plucking at the gray hairs at the end of his goatee.
The king’s voice was serious. “Do you believe the boy is Fountain-blessed?”
Horwath lifted his eyes and nodded once.
Ratcliffe scowled. It was his word against the entire council. Even Owen could see that. And yet the king still heeded him.
The king walked back to the mantel and rested his arm on it. “What do you advise, Dickon?” he asked. “You know that I trust you.”
Ratcliffe was at the king’s elbow in a moment. “One thing, my lord. One thing that solves all your problems at once.”
Ankarette frowned, her expression serious and concerned, and Owen felt his chest tighten. Sometimes their plan felt like a game of Wizr, but at moments like this he was reminded that it was not. It was a match of wits that would impact all their lives.
“Bring the boy with us when we go to the West to dispense the king’s justice at the Assizes. Take the boy away from the palace and all the intrigues here. We need to separate him from those who may be influencing him. If he’s Fountain-blessed, his powers should work beyond the palace grounds. That would be proof sufficient to satisfy even me.”
The king smirked. “And what if he is Fountain-blessed, Dickon? Do you know how rare this particular gift is? Not the rarity of being Fountain-blessed, but seeing the future!” His eyes glittered with eagerness. He wanted to believe it. “If it’s true, this lad will become the greatest noble in Ceredigion. Think of it! You are right to be wary and cautious. But my heart tells me this boy is special. My own power hardly works on him.”
Ratcliffe looked like he was about to argue, but he changed his tack. “My lord, then my plan will only help you decide if he is legitimate. This news from Tunmore is an opportunity in disguise. I believe I have a way of testing the loyalty of the boy and his parents. I must arrange something first, but we will know the truth of things once my plan is in motion.” He smiled, a great wolf’s smile. “Believe me, my lord, I would like nothing better than to have a Fountain-blessed who can see the future among us. Even if he’s a Kiskaddon. I hope you are right and my concerns prove false.”
The king looked at him, confused.
“The child’s last prediction. You recall it! He said the pinecone fell into the river. In this vision, the hook saved the eel from the river, did it not?”
“A good point, Rufus,” said one of the prelates, seated on his left. “It did indeed! It saved the eel from the river!”
The king turned to look at Ratcliffe, who had rushed up to him. “My lord,” said the spymaster, hardly able to contain his agitation. “My lord, you cannot look to a boy as your source of knowing the Fountain’s will! You would risk far too much, it would be—”
“A miracle?” the king interrupted softly. The room settled down, but Owen’s stomach churned in anticipation.
“You don’t believe the boy’s Fountain-blessed, Dickon, do you?”
“I do not,” Ratcliffe responded angrily without a pause. His voice was low and urgent. “I think he’s a tool being used to dupe you. My liege, if you hearken to him, she will have you. She will have tricked and deceived you. The woman is alive. I tell you, she is. I didn’t know her name until I heard Dunsdworth speak it, but he swears he saw her in the kitchen. The kitchen! Where else does the boy play his silly games but there? My lord, my friend, you must trust me on this! That woman is the most dangerous person in your realm. Even more dangerous than Tunmore. Ask Horwath. Even he fears her.”
A spasm of worry shot through Owen as he realized they were talking about Ankarette. The euphoria turned into nausea in his stomach.
“And what do you say, Stiev?” the king asked, turning his attention to the grizzled duke who was lounging in a stuffed chair within view of the spyhole.
There was a long moment of silence. He stared at the tabletop and slowly drummed his fingers. “According to the official records, Ankarette Tryneowy plunged to her death in a boat. If she lived, your brother never told me, Your Majesty.” Ratcliffe’s face twisted with impatience, but the king’s attention was wholly focused on the old duke.
“But?” Severn prompted.
“But,” continued the duke. “I have harbored some suspicions of my own. In the North, we throw the condemned off the mountain falls. In all our histories, only the Fountain-blessed have survived this test. If the queen’s poisoner is Fountain-blessed, as we suspect, perhaps she did not perish in the falls.” He fell silent again, plucking at the gray hairs at the end of his goatee.
The king’s voice was serious. “Do you believe the boy is Fountain-blessed?”
Horwath lifted his eyes and nodded once.
Ratcliffe scowled. It was his word against the entire council. Even Owen could see that. And yet the king still heeded him.
The king walked back to the mantel and rested his arm on it. “What do you advise, Dickon?” he asked. “You know that I trust you.”
Ratcliffe was at the king’s elbow in a moment. “One thing, my lord. One thing that solves all your problems at once.”
Ankarette frowned, her expression serious and concerned, and Owen felt his chest tighten. Sometimes their plan felt like a game of Wizr, but at moments like this he was reminded that it was not. It was a match of wits that would impact all their lives.
“Bring the boy with us when we go to the West to dispense the king’s justice at the Assizes. Take the boy away from the palace and all the intrigues here. We need to separate him from those who may be influencing him. If he’s Fountain-blessed, his powers should work beyond the palace grounds. That would be proof sufficient to satisfy even me.”
The king smirked. “And what if he is Fountain-blessed, Dickon? Do you know how rare this particular gift is? Not the rarity of being Fountain-blessed, but seeing the future!” His eyes glittered with eagerness. He wanted to believe it. “If it’s true, this lad will become the greatest noble in Ceredigion. Think of it! You are right to be wary and cautious. But my heart tells me this boy is special. My own power hardly works on him.”
Ratcliffe looked like he was about to argue, but he changed his tack. “My lord, then my plan will only help you decide if he is legitimate. This news from Tunmore is an opportunity in disguise. I believe I have a way of testing the loyalty of the boy and his parents. I must arrange something first, but we will know the truth of things once my plan is in motion.” He smiled, a great wolf’s smile. “Believe me, my lord, I would like nothing better than to have a Fountain-blessed who can see the future among us. Even if he’s a Kiskaddon. I hope you are right and my concerns prove false.”
