“Go into the elven kingdom alone and snatch away your son?” Stephen lifted his hand from his brow, looked up at his wizard.
The king needed the mysteriarchs’ powerful magic. No use offending the magus. He made a slight motion with his head, asking Trian to urge Iridal to depart. They had serious business to discuss, alone. “The woman’s gone mad,” he mouthed, though, of course, he did not say this aloud.
Trian shook his own head slightly. “Listen to what she has to offer,” he advised the king silently. Aloud, he said, “Yes, my lady? Please continue.”
“Once I’ve recovered him, I will take my son to the High Realms. Our dwelling is livable, for a short time, at least.*
*The Sartan constructed a magical shell around the High Realm to make its rarefied atmosphere suitable for mensch habitation. This shell is beginning to break down and no one now knows the secret of its reconstruction.
Alone with me, without anyone else to influence him, Bane will draw back from the dark path he walks, the path his father taught him to walk.” She turned to Stephen. “You must let me try, Your Majesty. You must!”
“Faith, Lady, you don’t need my sanction,” said Stephen bluntly. “You may fly off the top parapet of this castle, if you’re so minded. What could I do to stop you? But you’re talking about traveling into elven lands, a human woman, alone! Walking into an elven dungeon and back out again. Perhaps you mysteriarchs have discovered some means of turning yourselves invisible—”
Both Anne and Trian endeavored to stem the king’s tirade, but it was Iridal who brought Stephen up short.
“You are right, Your Majesty,” she said, with a faint, apologetic smile, “I will go, whether you grant me permission or not. I ask only out of courtesy, for the sake of maintaining good relations between all parties. I am well aware of the danger and the difficulty. I have never been in elven lands. I have no means of journeying there—yet. But I will. I do not intend to go alone, Your Majesty.”
Anne reached out her hand impulsively, took hold of Irida’s and clasped it fast. “I would go any distance, face any danger to find my child, if she were lost to me! I know how you feel. I understand. But, dear lady, you must listen to reason—”
“Indeed, Lady Iridal,” said Stephen gruffly. “Forgive me if I spoke harshly at first. It is the weight of this burden, bearing down on me—when it seemed that at last all burdens had been lifted from my shoulders—that caused me to lose my temper. You say that you will not go alone.” The king shrugged. “Lady, a legion would not benefit you—”
“I do not want a legion. I want one man, one man who is worth a legion. He is the best. You said so yourself. If I am not mistaken, you scoured the kingdom in search of him. You saved him from the executioner’s block. You know his mettle better than anyone else, for you hired him to do a job dangerous and delicate.”
Stephen was staring at the woman in horror, Trian in troubled perplexity. Anne let loose Iridal’s hand. Stricken with guilt, the queen shrank back in her chair.
Iridal rose to her feet, tall and majestic, proud and imperious.
“You hired this man to kill my son.”
“Gracious ancestors forfend!” cried Stephen hoarsely. “Have you mysteriarchs discovered the power to raise the dead?”
“Not us,” said Iridal softly. “Not us. For which I am grateful. It is a terrible gift.”
For long moments, she was silent, then, sighing, she lifted her head, brisk and business-minded. “Do I have Your Majesty’s permission to try? You have nothing to lose. If I fail, none will be the wiser. I will tell my people I am traveling back to the High Realms. You may tell them that I died there. No blame will come to you. Grant me a fortnight, Your Majesty.”
Stephen stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, began to pace the room. He paused, glanced at Trian. “Well, what say you, Magicka? Is there no other way?”