“So the child is held hostage,” said Stephen grimly. “The elves plan, no doubt, to use this threat to force us to stop our attacks on their shipping, perhaps even try to disrupt the negotiations with Rees’ahn. Well, it won’t work. They can do what they like with him. I wouldn’t trade one drop of water—”
“My dear, please!” said Anne quietly, laying her hand on her husband’s arm. She glanced beneath her eyelids at the Lady Iridal, who was sitting, pale and cold, hands clenched in her lap, staring at nothing, pretending not to hear. “She is his mother!”
“I am well aware that this lady is the child’s mother. May I remind you, my dear, that Bane had a father—a father whose evil very nearly destroyed us all. Forgive me for speaking plainly, Lady Iridal,” said Stephen, undeterred by his wife’s pleading gaze, “but we must face the truth. You have said yourself that your husband wielded a powerful, dark influence over the child.”
A faint flush came to Iridal’s ivory cheeks, a shudder shook her slender frame. She did not reply, however, and Stephen looked over at Trian.
“I wonder, even, how much of this is Bane’s doing,” stated the king. “But, be that as it may, I am adamant. The elves will find they have made a bad bargain—”
Iridal’s faint flush of shame had deepened to anger. She seemed about to speak. Trian raised his hand to forestall her.
“Lady Iridal, if I may,” he said quietly. “Matters are not this simple, sire. The elves are clever. The wretched Peter did not escape. He was permitted to escape, intentionally. The elves knew he would bring you this information, probably subtly encouraged him to do so. The elves made his ‘escape’ look very real and convincing. Just as they did all the others.”
“Others?” Stephen looked up vaguely, frowning.
Trian sighed. He had been putting off bad news. “I am afraid, sire, that Peter was not the only one to return bearing news that His Highness, Prince Bane, is alive. More than twenty other slaves ‘escaped’ that night. All have returned to their various homelands, all carrying the same tale. I’ve erased Peter’s memory, but I might just as well have left him alone. Within a very few cycles, the news mat Bane is alive and in elven hands will be the talk of every tavern from Pitrin’s Exile to Wtnsher.”
“Blessed ancestors protect us,” murmured Anne.
“I am certain you are aware of the vicious rumors that have been spread concerning Bane’s illegitimacy, sire,” continued Trian gently. “If you cast the boy to the wolves, so to speak, people will believe these rumors to be the truth. They will say that you rid yourself of a bastard. Our queen’s reputation will be irreparably damaged. The barons of Volkaran will demand that you divorce her, marry one of their own. The barons of Ulyndia will take Queen Anne’s part and rise against you. The alliance we’ve worked hard and long to build will crumble into dust. It could lead to civil war.”
Stephen huddled in his chair, his face gray and haggard. Ordinarily he did not look his fifty years. His body was firm and muscular. He could hold his own with any of the younger knights in tourney competition, frequently beat the best. Yet now his shoulders sagged, his frame had collapsed. His head bowed, he was suddenly an old man.
“We could tell the people the truth,” said Lady Iridal.
Trian turned to her, smiled. “A magnanimous offer, my lady. I know how painful that would be for you. But it would only make matters worse. Your people have wisely kept out of public view, since their return from the High Realms. The mysteriarchs have lived quietly, aiding us in secret. Would you want Sinistrad’s evil designs upon us made known? People would suspect and turn against you all. Who knows what terrible persecution might follow?”
“We are doomed,” said Stephen heavily. “We must give in.”
“No,” responded Iridal, voice and demeanor cool. “There is another alternative. Bane is my responsibility. He is my son. I want him back. I will rescue my child from the elves.”