Queen Ferris (The Stoneways Trilogy, Book Two) - Softcover

Butler, S. C.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0765353725 ISBN 13: 9780765353726

Publisher: Tor Fantasy, 2009

Synopsis

Reiffen, true heir to the kingdoms of Banking and Wayland, had lived his entire life quietly with his mother and best friends, Ferris and Avender. His days were filled with sailing, fishing with the talking seals, and trying to swipe as many extra maple candies as he could.

All that changed when the three Wizards snatched Reiffen away to their fortress in the north. There they offered Reiffen the twin gifts of power and immortality--if he helped them wrest control of Banking and Wayland away from his uncle, the usurper.

Although Reiffen's friends rescue him at great peril, Reiffen now decides to return to the Wizards knowing that he would never again be trusted in this old life--even his best friends would fear that the Wizards had â turnedâ him. He intends to fool the Wizards--gain their knowledge, find their weaknesses, and defeat them with their own weapons and regain the throne that is rightfully his. But Reiffen is forced to do terrible things to gain the Wizards' trust. Has he become as greedy, ambitious, and avaricious as the three Wizard brothers?

About this title

About the Author

S. C. Butler lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1
I’m sorry, Mother.”
His heart thumping, Reiffen watched Giserre’s mouth open in wonder as the Tear dissolved around them. The silence of bookshelves replaced the rumble of the gorge.
“Where is this place?” she asked.
“Ussene.”
Fear crept into the lines around her eyes. When Reiffen had taken her hand moments ago on the cold, wet stone of the Tear, Ussene was the last place Giserre had expected to find herself. She took a deep breath, her face hardening, and the wrinkle of dread was gone.
“The Three have brought you back?” she asked.
“I have brought us back.”
“You!”
“Yes, Mother.”
“The magic was yours?”
“No. Usseis laid the spell on me.” Reiffen left off rubbing his itchy knuckle to show where the last joint of his left little finger had been reattached. The iron thimble that had capped it before was gone, though another remained on his right hand. “See? The body heals itself across any distance. The magic brought me back.”
“And you knew this all along?” Giserre’s anger rose. “You told us you had no idea what those things on your fingers were for.”
“Their purpose only just came to me, Mother.”
“And you used them to come here, to Ussene? After you had just been rescued? Have you lost your mind?”
“It was my only choice, Mother.”
“Only choice? It was most certainly not! You could have remained in Valing. How could you possibly choose to return to the place from which Redburr and your friends just saved you?” Giserre drew herself up to her full height. Her robe rustled; the white of her nightgown flickered at her throat. “I refuse to believe you. This is some trick of the Three. My son would not be such a fool.”
Reiffen’s heart lifted. Perhaps he was under the Wizards’ control. If that were true, then none of the responsibility was his. But this didn’t feel like the other times he had been held captive by Usseis’s will. His mind felt free; his heart remained open.
“It would have been worse had I stayed,” he said.
“It would not.”
“They changed me, Mother. Nothing is the same.”
“I would have helped you fight them. We could have removed those . . . things.” Giserre’s mouth pursed with distaste as she gestured toward the remaining thimble. “Redburr would have cut them off quickly enough.”
“Yes. And everyone would have been watching all the time for some sign I was doing the Three’s bidding.”
“That is not true! You were among friends. You should have trusted us. If your father were alive—”
“If my father were alive he would understand!” Reiffen’s eyes blazed with conviction. “He died fighting them, and I will do the same if I have to. But the Wizards are not in Valing, Mother, they are here. Valing is done. I will not hide from them, or anyone else, any longer.”
Mother and son stared angrily at one another. Never before had Reiffen spoken so roughly to her. He had not been the best behaved of children, but he had not quarreled openly with her either. He wanted to rush into her arms and beg forgiveness for speaking so harshly, but he knew he had to be strong. Always had his mother taught him that kings bore their hurts alone.
“Then why bring me?” she demanded bitterly. “Did Usseis order you to do that?”
“No.” Reiffen closed the small gold casket that lay on the nearest reading table, hiding the thin streak of blood that marked the bottom.
“Then why?”
“Yes, Reiffen,” asked a voice from the door. “Why did you bring your mother?”
Mother and son turned. Fornoch towered over them in his gray robes, his black eyes piercing the soft light. Whether he had entered normally, too silent for them to notice, or magically, Reiffen couldn’t tell.
The Wizard inclined his head in the least deferential of bows. “My lady. Allow me to welcome you to Ussene.”
Giserre moved closer to her son, her anger forgotten in the face of a common enemy. “Yours is no welcome,” she replied.
“On the contrary, milady, mine is more welcome than either of my brothers’. Ossdonc, I know, would relish another wife. And Usseis has uses for everyone.”
Reiffen pushed forward. “You might as well kill me, if you hurt her.”
Fornoch smiled. “As long as she remains out of my brothers’ way, she is unlikely to receive injury.”
“Staying out of their way will be my pleasure,” answered Giserre. “I have no wish to remain.”
“It was not I who brought you, milady. Nor my brothers. But, if he who did bring you so prefers, I will send you back.”
Reiffen started. “You would do that?” With sudden selflessness he turned back to Giserre. He had made the decision to bring her so quickly: what if he had been wrong? “Mother. You’re right. I should never have brought you.”
“You should never have come yourself. Will you return if I do?”
Reiffen met his mother’s stare. His eagerness faded. “No. I have made my choice.”
“Then I must stay as well. I will not leave you here alone, no matter what I think of your decision.”
“I will offer no second chance,” said Fornoch.
“I will ask none,” replied the lady.
“Very well. I have prepared a suite of rooms for the two of you. Reiffen, you will find the arrangements much more satisfactory than on your previous stay, now that you have come to us freely.”
The Gray Wizard led them out of the Library into the passage beyond. Thick candles lit the gloomy way, smoke blackening the walls and high ceiling. The dust raised by their passing settled behind them like dreary fog. A short walk brought them to a heavy wooden door that had not been in that particular hall the last time Reiffen had been in Ussene. He saw at once it had been fashioned like the doors in Valing Manor. Stout and dark, and seemingly stained with long years of use, the portal swung open easily at the Wizard’s touch.
They found themselves in an ordinary sitting room. Dwarven lamps shone on the walls, brightening the sofas and chairs. Fornoch gestured toward two more doors in the far wall.
“Sleeping chambers lie beyond. I regret only one has a window. Certain elements of this place are not particularly suitable for change. I presume, milady, you will prefer the windowed room.”
The Wizard waited for her answer, but Giserre ignored him. Nor did she sit upon either of the pillowed couches beside the hearth, nor on the cushioned chairs. Fine tapestries covered the walls, the cloth glinting with thread of blumet, silver, and gold. A sewing basket topped a low table beside one of the couches, a hoop of fine linen near at hand.
“As you wish.” Fornoch folded his giant hands into his robe’s hanging sleeves. “You will have any length of time in which to acquaint yourself with your new surroundings. There is much to learn.”
A slight tap interrupted at the door. A ragged servant shuffled in, the woman’s eyes glued fearfully to the floor. Reiffen thought there was something familiar about her, and supposed he had passed her in the halls before his escape. A ratty shawl wrapped her shoulders; scraps of shabby dresses covered her from throat to ankle. Her filthy feet were bare.
“This is Spit,” introduced the Wizard. “Perhaps she will provide you the same loyalty Molio once did.”
Reiffen flinched at the mention of his former friend and hoped his mother hadn’t noticed. He had told no one about Molio.
But Giserre seemed more concerned with Spit. “My son and I require no servant of yours, Wizard. We can care for ourselves.”
One gray brow lifted, almost in amusement, but the rest of the Wizard’s face remained unchanged.
“Very well. You may find Ussene trying at even the best of times, beyond the walls of this apartment. But, if this is what you wish, I shall leave you to your choice. Reiffen knows where the refectories are, when you feel the need to dine. I had thought you would prefer your meals alone.”
The Wizard turned to Reiffen before leaving. “Tomorrow your training will begin,” he said. His servant followed him out into the corridor.
When Fornoch was gone, Giserre ignored her son the way she had the Wizard. Lamplight washed across the floor as she opened the door to the right-hand room, highlighting the color in the thick rug and the bright quilt covering the curtained bed. Another upholstered chair, a desk for writing, a chest by the footboard, and a tall wardrobe against the far wall completed the furniture. Giserre pushed aside the heavy draperies that covered the window and opened the casements; a breath of the outside world drifted in. Stars glittered in a narrow patch of sky, the shadows of tall cliffs sealing the darkness below.
Reiffen opened the wardrobe doors. Women’s clothing lay piled neatly on the shelves.
“Fornoch is right.” Giserre lifted the top of the chest, revealing more velvet, lace, and fine linen. “I will take this room. Unless you prefer it.” The chest closed with a hollow breath as she dropped the lid.
“No, Mother.”
She plucked at her homely robe. “Our hosts have thought of everything. I will not have to wear my nightdress for the remainder of our stay.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but this is what I have to do.”
Rather than replying, Giserre traced her hand along the yellow and gold flowers stitched onto the light summer quilt, the royal hues of Banking.
“I embroidered a quilt like this myself, when I was not much older than you.” The mattress gave softly as Giserre sat on it. “I doubt this is the same one, but they are as alike as two peas. Life was simpler then. We only worried about the war. Now, no more about your choice, my son. I have had mine as well. Tell me about Molio instead.”
“I killed him, Mother,” he answered softly.
Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Had he attacked you?”
Reiffen shook his head.
“Threatened you? Did he hurt someone who had helped you?”
“He was my friend,” Reiffen whispered.
Giserre pursed her lips and patted the quilted flower at her side. “Come. Sit beside me.”
He did as asked. She took his palm in hers. Shivering, he squeezed her fingers.
“Usseis forced you, I suppose.”
Reiffen nodded.
“Then you should understand it was not an act of yours. Penance is due, of course, to acknowledge that you were the vessel of this terrible deed, and remorse. But the guilt is not yours.” With her free hand she brushed his hair back from his forehead.
His throat felt dry and tight. “You don’t understand, Mother. It was worse than that. I chose the manner of his dying. Usseis left that up to me.” He closed his eyes, which only made the memory of the falling man burn more brightly, and shuddered. His mother stroked his cheek.
“You would never have done it had Usseis not made you,” she said. “It is the killing that is evil, not its manner. You cannot say what part of Usseis might have come into you along with his will.”
Small tears melted along the sides of Reiffen’s nose. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his mother how easily the treachery had come to him.
“Is that why you brought me with you?” she asked gently. “Because the Wizards made you kill your friend?”
She lifted his hand, and together they looked at the pale end of his smallest finger. The weight of the remaining thimble hung heavily on his other hand.
“I was lonely.” He spoke in such a low voice he hardly heard what he said himself. But his mother heard him plainly.
“Lonely? You could have solved that easily enough. You could have taken Avender back with you, or—” Giserre checked her thought. “No. It would have been wrong to take Ferris.”
“It would have been wrong to take either of them, Mother. The Wizards would have made me kill them. Like Molio.”
“But not your mother.”
“No.” Reiffen barely mouthed the word. His heart felt close to bursting. He had killed his friend, and now he had stolen his mother so he wouldn’t have to be alone among the Wizards. He wondered again if she had been right, and everything he had done since arriving in Ussene months ago had been at the command of the Three. But he knew it wasn’t true. At the very least, the Three had never asked him to bring his mother back to Ussene. That idea was entirely his own.
He flushed again at the thought of it.
“They won’t kill you.” He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Ferris and Avender they might have killed and bound me all the same. But not you. Even they know that would be too much.”
Giserre let go his hand and held him close. He hugged her tightly in return, and sobbed into the comfort of her shoulder.
“My son,” she soothed. “I may disagree with your decision to return to this place, but in this other matter you bear no blame. It would not have suited to have taken your friends. I am with you now. We shall fight the Three together.”
Reiffen wiped his nose with his sleeve. “But what if I’m wrong? What if Usseis makes me kill you, too?”
She pulled him closer. Through his snuffling tears he smelled Valing in her robe. The pine smoke from the hearth and the damp summer green of the roaring flume twined about him. He missed it all terribly. Valing was the only home he had ever known.
“We will take what they give us,” she told him. “And when they try to turn us to their purpose, we will fight them. In the meantime, we will learn what power we can.”
They explored the rest of the apartment. Reiffen was glad his bedroom didn’t have a window. His chest and cupboard were filled with clothes the same as Giserre’s, though not so fine, and on his bed lay a quilt worked in diamonds of black and orange. “My brother’s,” said Giserre when she saw it. “Someone has been watching Malmoret for many years.”
“Maybe Ossdonc remembers all this from when he was married to Queen Loellin.”
“My aunt rarely visited our home. And Cuhurran, as Ossdonc styled himself then, was never with her when she did. When I saw him it was only in the palace, or riding through the streets at the head of marching columns. Always smiling and laughing, he was, as if the war with Wayland were a famous joke. But he was attractive, all the same. My brother Gerrit worshipped him nearly as much as the queen. What is this?”
Giserre pointed to a green pebble lying under a glass bowl on top of Reiffen’s desk.
“That’s the stone I told you about, Mother.”
“The Talking Stone? The one Avender found?”
“No, Avender lost Durk in the dungeons when we escaped. This is the one Fornoch made for me. The Living Stone.”
“The one that might protect you?”
“Yes. Fornoch said if I swallowed it nothing would hurt me, and I’d never grow old.”
Giserre gestured toward the stone. “Perhaps you should use it, now you have returned.”
“I don’t want to stay thirteen forever, Mother.”
He lifted the glass. The stone began to pulse and glow, its rhythm quickening as his hand drew close. Beneath his fingers its surface was smooth and cold. When he held it up to show his mother, ...

Edition details

• Publisher: Tor Fantasy
• Publication date: 2009
• ISBN 10: 0765353725
• ISBN 13: 9780765353726
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 496