CORWIN HAD NEVER BEEN SO glad to see Norgard. Not even after the two years he’d spent away from it. The last night on this return journey had been far from idyllic. Although they managed to get the horses freed before any suffered permanent damage, and the magists had eventually put out the fire, the rain lingered all through the night. Corwin barely slept, and when he finally woke, he was damp to his bones with a stuffy nose and aching head.
The ride through the rest of Jade Forest and into the countryside on Norgard’s western border was subdued. Despite the bright, cloudless day, no one felt much like talking. Foolishly, Corwin had thought things might be better today between him and Kate, after their private conversation, but she seemed even more withdrawn than before. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to seek her out last night, other than a desire to dispel the weary tension between them. If she was to live in Norgard again, they needed to make peace, for both their sakes. But the only notable difference was that she had opted to ride next to him at the front of the group for once.
When the city at last came into view, Kate drew a loud breath and let it out with a rapturous exhale. “Gods, I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.”
Corwin took in the sight as well, trying to see it through her eyes. It wasn’t hard to feel that same sense of awe. A gleaming white wall, festooned with round turrets capped in pale-blue marble, surrounded a chaotic sprawl of colorful buildings and streets, each one like a wrapped present set about with streamers and ribbon. At the center, Mirror Castle seemed to nest amid the splendor of colors like a giant, rose-gold-hued dragon guarding its treasure hoard. The castle claimed its name from its seven towers, each with a conical roof made of obsidian so polished it reflected the sun like a mirror, setting each point aglow. That and it was home to the Mirror Throne, of course.
“It is at that,” Corwin said. The air tasted better here, light and fresh when he sucked in a lungful. The grass was richer, tall and green among the everweeps, and the sky bluer than anywhere else in Rime. Than all the world.
But the best sight of all was the horses in the pastures that covered the land beyond the wall, mile after mile of split-rail fencing. Grays, chestnuts, bays, blacks, spotteds, they feasted on the grass, stopping only long enough to drink from nearby streams or water troughs or to pin their ears at the foals and yearlings who played around them, snorting, bucking, and kicking in youthful merriment.
Beside him, Kate seemed to drink in the sight of the horses, her eyes lingering on each one they passed. He wondered what she saw, which ones caught her attention and which she passed over with less interest.
Soon they reached the opened city gates. Two massive horse statues stood, one on either side of the entrance. They weren’t identical but asymmetrical complements of each other. The left one, carved in sleek ivory, was leaned back on its haunches, just coming up to a rear, muzzle pointed skyward. The right, carved from glistening onyx, black as pitch, was in full rear, its head curved downward, forelegs striking.
Signe let out a whistle as she stared up at them in awe.
“They are named after the horses of Noralah, the goddess who founded the city,” Kate said, glancing at her friend. “Niran and Nalek.”
“Magnificent,” Signe replied in a breathy voice.
Corwin flashed a grin at Kate. “Remember when we changed their names to Pie and—”
“—Pig,” she said with a nervous titter. “We should’ve been struck dead for blasphemy.”
“Not at all. The gods have a sense of humor—a wicked one, in my experience.”
It was strangely quiet as they approached, hardly any shepherds or farmers in sight. But the moment the guards standing in the watchtowers realized it was Corwin at the gate, they sounded the bells and shouted down onto the streets, “Prince Corwin has returned!”
The cry was soon picked up by others in the city, until it became a collective roar. “Prince Corwin! Prince Corwin!”
Kate reined her horse back almost at once, moving to the middle of the pack as if she feared being recognized as well. He couldn’t blame her wanting to go unnoticed here.
Despite the crowd, they traveled quickly through the winding streets on their way to the castle. Unlike those in Andreas, the paths here had gentle slopes, some up, some down. The buildings weren’t nearly so tall either, allowing for plenty of light and an open feel. They were also more pleasant to look upon, that wrapped-present appearance still maintained up close. They came in all shapes, some squat and short with shutters painted in fanciful patterns and awnings trimmed in tassels or ribbons, others sleek and refined in contrasting, complementary colors.
Corwin smiled and waved at the people calling his name, but he wondered at the fervency of their greeting. It was nearly as great as when he’d returned from his long absence. But that time he’d been gone two years, not just a matter of weeks. The people in the street were pressing in to touch him, fingers brushing his boots or his horse’s sides. It brought luck to touch a returning prince, but it was a gesture normally reserved for times of war. Then again, maybe the people believed he had been at war, of a kind. By now, every newspaper in Rime had carried the story about his brush with death on the road to Andreas. He wished he could’ve kept it secret same as he had his time spent away. At the thought, he glanced down at his vambrace, making sure it remained in place. How foolish it had been to get that tattoo. I never thought I was coming back here.
His hope had been to enter the castle quietly, not drawing attention to his companions until after he had a chance to discuss things with Edwin. He’d sent word ahead that he was bringing guests with him, but he’d been vague on the details. He knew any objections Edwin or the high council might have about Kate would fade once they learned that she had saved his life and introduced Corwin to the revolver; but it was something he wanted to explain in person, the pen too cold a medium for expressing such events.
But by the time they reached the castle gates, he saw that there would be no quiet entrance. A squadron of royal guards in their blue uniforms awaited their arrival. Captain Jaol stood at the head of the guard, his gaze fixed not on Corwin but somewhere behind him. On Kate, Corwin suspected. The chief duty of the royal guard was to ensure the king’s safety, and Jaol had been captain of it for nearly twenty years. He’d been there when Kate’s father had nearly killed the king, and every line on his face spoke of his animosity toward the traitor’s daughter.
Determined to deflect it for now, Corwin waved in greeting. “Captain Jaol, how nice of you to greet me personally.”
Jaol bowed, revealing the bald patch on the top of his head. He was a tall man, slight of build and with a nose like a twig snapped in half. “Welcome home, your highness,” he said, coming up from the bow. “We received word of your arrival, and I’m glad to see you are well and whole again.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be well and whole.”
Jaol didn’t smile at Corwin’s poor attempt at cheek. He motioned behind him. “Your brother is in the courtyard. There’s been a bit of excitement this morning.”
Excitement? Corwin arched an eyebrow but didn’t ask for more. Not when he could hear the commotion from here. He dismounted and handed his horse to one of the grooms who had rushed up from the stable the moment they’d arrived in the bailey. The others in the company followed suit.
Master Raith, who’d been riding at the back of the procession, led his horse to the front and bowed to Corwin. From behind his mask he said, “Your highness, with your permission, I will give my fee summary to the clerk, then be on my way. I’ve business at my order’s house.”
“Of course,” Corwin said. “Thank you for your service. If I may ask, would you mind keeping me informed of any news you hear about the daydrakes?”
Raith inclined his head. “And I would ask you the same. My order is the most at risk from these attacks.”
“Yes, I understand.” As the defensive order, the blues protected all the caravans. Corwin clapped the man on the back, surprising himself by the ease of the gesture. It seemed he’d grown fond of this particular magist. “The moment I hear anything, so shall you. I’ll send word to your house if you’re not presently in the city.”
“Thank you.” Raith bowed again, then handed his horse off to a groom. Before departing, he said good-bye to Signe, Bonner, Dal, and finally to Kate, who had drifted slightly away from the group, as if she hoped to make a quick escape. He whispered something into her ear that made her eyes narrow and her lips press into a thin line. Corwin wondered what it was, but the noise in the courtyard beckoned to him once more.
He turned and strode across the bailey, through the main archway between the east and west wings, and into the cobblestoned courtyard. A large circular fountain, bearing another set of statues honoring Niran and Nelek in its center, occupied the middle of the courtyard. On a normal day, the place was quiet and empty save for a page scurrying to fulfill some duty or a wagon or carriage delivering goods or guests. But today it was full of people; courtiers, nobles, and servants crowded around the edges, all of them with their attention fixed on the group of men standing near the fountain.
Corwin spotted his brother among them, along with all the members of the high council: Minister Rendborne, master of trade; Knox, master of arms; Porter, master of coin; Fletcher, master of the hearth; Nell, master builder; and Alaistar Cade, master of horse, who had once served as second under Kate’s father. If it hadn’t been for the location, Corwin would’ve thought this was a council meeting. Grand Master Storr, head of the Mage League, and Maestra Vikas, head of the gold order, who were not part of the council, were present as well.
What are they doing out here? he wondered, but then his eyes fell on the thing lying in their midst. He recognized the black scales and the dragonish shape of the body.
A dead daydrake.
Corwin passed through the crowd, which parted at the sight of him, and stepped up beside his brother. “Where did you get that?” he said.
Edwin turned his head toward Corwin, the look of surprise on his face quickly giving way to annoyance. “And a welcome home to you, too, brother.”
Corwin was too intrigued to feel guilty about his lack of diplomacy. This was the first time he’d been able to examine a daydrake closely, and although dead, it was no less intimidating. This specimen was roughly the size of a small bear. It lay halfway on its side, mouth opened to reveal the sharp teeth, and with its right foreleg extended out in front of it, the claws spread like curved daggers set up in a row. Its neck had been partially severed from its body. Corwin covered his mouth as its putrid stench reached him.
“What happened?” Corwin turned his gaze fully on Edwin for the first time. Surprise struck him at Edwin’s unkempt state. Blood and dirt smeared his tunic and breeches, and fresh scratches lined his forearms. Nevertheless, Edwin still cut an imposing figure. Tall and elegantly handsome, he sported a lighter shade of blond hair than Corwin’s and his eyes were their mother’s hazel. Sometimes when Corwin looked at them, all he saw was her.
“I came across that thing when I was out riding,” Edwin replied. “It’s the same as what attacked you on the road to Andreas, yes? A daydrake?”
Corwin nodded, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. Some of the travelers they’d passed on the road spoke of daydrake sightings around Marared. That city was a little farther east than Andreas and Farhold, but not much. But this one had made it all the way to Norgard already. “Where were you riding?”
“On the road toward Penlocke.”
South then. Only—“There was just the one?”
“Yes, and a good thing, too, or I might not have come through it at all.” Edwin rubbed his hands together as if trying to clean away the blood. “My pistol shot only wounded it, but when it jumped at me, I was able to use the force of its leap to cut its throat with my sword.”
“You did well, your highness,” Minister Knox said. The large, burly man looked elderly with his gray hair and skin like crumpled parchment, but Corwin knew from experience he was still fit enough to pummel men half his age—as he did often in his arms lessons.
Several of the people around them echoed the sentiment, and Corwin reminded himself that whatever was said and done here would be discussed and passed along until the entire city knew the story, or some version of it.
“I’m glad you’re all right, Edwin, but I’m surprised there was only one.” Corwin stooped nearer the daydrake for a closer look. “They seem to run in packs, same as nightdrakes.” Still, one could be dangerous enough. And it attacked my brother, Corwin realized. First the Gregors, then him, and now Edwin. If the Rising was behind this, then their purpose was clear—to unseat the power of Norgard.
Nervous chatter broke out all around them, several of the courtiers daring to come closer.
“How can we be safe with these creatures terrorizing the daytime?” someone asked. The question was repeated in a dozen different variations as it swept through the crowd.
Minister Rendborne raised his hands, the right one bearing a large magestone ring that glowed dully in the sunshine filling the courtyard. Whatever vanity the magic allowed him, Corwin couldn’t guess, but the master of trade was easily the most dashing member of the royal council, with striking eagle eyes, golden hued and sharp. He was also the most comfortable with public speaking.
In a loud voice he said, “Have no fear. The Tormane family has always kept us safe and will continue to do so. Have faith in the high king!”
The speech had little effect, despite Rendborne’s enthusiasm and charismatic manner. Most of these people lived in the castle, and either they knew firsthand of King Orwin’s sickness or they suspected it strongly. How could they have faith in a king so infirm that he was rarely seen outside his personal chambers?
The realization of their doubt spurred Corwin into action. He walked over to the fountain just beyond the drakes’ body and climbed onto the edge.
“What Minister Rendborne says is true,” Corwin said in a raised voice, commanding immediate silence. He drew a breath and plowed on. “In my travels I have discovered a weapon that will change the face of Rime forever, one so powerful it may one day end the plague of the drakes, both in the night and the day.”
He paused and turned back the way he’d come, scanning the crowd for Bonner, Signe, and Kate. He spotted them lurking on the edge of the courtyard with Dal. “Miss Brighton, Miss Leth, Master Bonner, please come here,” Corwin called.
A look of horror came over Kate’s face, and Corwin guessed that if he’d been near enough, she might have murdered him where he stood. But she couldn’t refuse him, not in front of so many watching eyes. With Bonner leading the way, the three approached the fountain.
The silence from a moment before shattered as the people recognized Kate. Corwin heard her name spoken over and over again in worried, hostile tones. Kate Brighton . . . the traitor’s daughter . . . Traitor Kate. He heard his own unofficial title uttered as well, the Errant Prince. Anger churned in his stomach. He’d promised Kate he would protect her from this very thing; he’d assured her she would be welcomed back.
“And I mean to see it done,” he said under his breath. Although she might indeed kill him for it later, Corwin called for Kate to come stand beside him on the fountain.
Once Kate was up and visible to the entire crowd, Corwin spoke again in the loudest, most kingly voice he could muster—a voice that no one would dare contradict or disrespect. “Kate Brighton, daughter of the traitor Hale, saved my life on the road from Farhold to Andreas when my caravan was attacked by an entire pack of these daydrakes.”
He paused to sweep his gaze over the crowd. Dozens of eyes stared back at him—ladies in elegantly embroidered day dresses with parasols over their shoulders, noblemen with clean-shaved faces and bejeweled daggers at their waists, servants and guards in their uniforms. He held them all as equal in his gaze.
“I owe her a blood debt great enough to have canceled out any transgressions she herself can be held accountable for.” None of which were hers to begin with, he added in his mind. “Let it be known to everyone assembled here and throughout all of Norgard that Kate Brighton is no longer an enemy to the high king.”
Corwin stopped speaking and waited for the crowd to respond, but only silence and icy stares met his proclamation.
That was until Edwin stepped forward and said, “I, for one, am proud to welcome her back.” He took hold of Kate’s hand, and she stiffened, lips pinched tight as he raised her knuckles to his mouth to kiss them. Corwin gritted his teeth at the sight of it and the bad memories it invoked.
“Thank you for seeing my brother returned safely,” Edwin told Kate with a warm smile on his face. “You are welcome in Norgard, Miss Brighton. Now and forever.”
This time the crowd broke into applause. It was reserved, not quite enthusiastic, but a start. Edwin had developed the knack for swaying their opinion in the years he’d secretly worn their father’s mantle.
When the crowd quieted once more, Corwin said, “It was Miss Brighton who brought a new weapon to my attention. She used it to kill three daydrakes at once!” He pulled the revolver out of the holster at his side and held it up. “This weapon is what I bring back to Norgard from my travels. It is no ordinary pistol. It’s called a revolver, an invention of Master Tom Bonner from Farhold, created with the help of Miss Signe Leth of Esh. Both have traveled to Norgard to make more of these weapons for us. Master Bonner has done what no other gunsmith in the world has managed. It is a firearm that can discharge multiple rounds without reloading.”
Corwin turned and pointed the revolver at the dead drake. “Stand back,” he commanded.
Edwin and the high councilmembers obeyed, several of them going so far as to cover their ears.
Corwin cocked the trigger and fired, to the shock of the crowd. Then without pausing he did it again and again, discharging all six bullets. The drake’s body rocked back and forth at the impact, blood and scales spraying out as each one tore through it.
When it was over, the crowd broke into cheers. He heard his name shouted in ecstatic tones, the title Errant Prince forgotten. Even Edwin clapped, although the gesture was perfunctory, his expression aloof. Corwin ignored the disappointment he felt at such a tepid response. He should’ve known better than to hope for his brother’s approval.
With the demonstration now over, Corwin stepped down from the fountain.
Edwin turned at once to Signe. “Welcome to Norgard, Miss Leth. But what, may I ask, is your part in this endeavor?”
“May the blessing of Aslar be upon you, your highness.” Signe made a quick bow. “I am honored to be welcomed here. I hold the secret of the black powder used in the bullet casings, my own special formula that makes the revolver possible.”
“I see.” Edwin beamed at her. “That is surprising and excellent news.” He gestured to Bonner. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, Master Bonner.”
Grand Master Storr approached them then, introducing himself to Bonner and Signe with a bright smile. He wore no mask, a privilege of his rank, and the only indications of his own importance were the magestone mace hooked at his belt and his black robe. A thick multicolored band of stripes ran down the robe’s front, representing all the League orders and marking him as grand master. The largest stripe was white, indicating the order from which he’d been raised. He was handsome in an understated way, with wavy brown hair threaded with silver that hung to his shoulders. He had a way of making everyone feel as if they were the most important person in the room regardless of rank or station.
Storr kissed Signe’s hand, then did the same to Kate. “Welcome to you all. Now, I for one would love a closer look at this remarkable revolver.”
A nervous smile appeared on Bonner’s face as Corwin handed Storr the gun. The moment it was in the grand master’s hands, the rest of the high council crowded in for a better look. Soon they were plying Bonner with questions about how it worked.
Corwin slowly retreated, allowing them the chance to fuss over Bonner, who seemed to be enjoying the attention. Signe was enjoying the same as several of the councilmembers speculated that surely her special mixture of black powder was the key to keeping the mechanism from misfiring.
“Are you one of the Furen Mag?” Minister Rendborne asked, and Corwin turned away, not wanting to laugh at whatever ridiculous answer Signe would give him.
Spying Kate on the other side of the group, Corwin moved to join her, but before he could, Edwin appeared at his side. “Congratulations, brother. This round to you then.”
“Round?” Corwin cocked his head. “Whatever do you mean?”
A cool smile parted Edwin’s lips. “Surely someone has told you by now.”
“Told me what?” Corwin placed his hands on his hips, annoyed at Edwin’s patronizing tone. Not that his brother could help it. Ever since they were little, he’d had that tone whenever he addressed Corwin, as if such were a requirement from an older brother to a younger.
The smile retreated from Edwin’s face. “To be honest, my only regret is that Mother didn’t live to see it.”
Corwin flinched, struck as he always was whenever Edwin mentioned their mother. Although he’d spoken the words in a pleasant, conversational tone, Corwin didn’t miss the barb, the never-ending blame Edwin placed on him for her death.
“See what?” Corwin said through gritted teeth.
“The uror, brother. The sign has finally appeared.”
At Edwin’s words, the ground seemed to shift beneath Corwin’s feet, and he widened his stance, steadying himself. All at once the enthusiastic greeting of the crowd outside made sense. They weren’t welcoming home the second-born prince of Norgard but the next possible heir, the man who could be the high king.
Only uror would tell. It was finally here.