Megan Whalen Turner - A Conspiracy of Kings (The Queens Thief, #4)

THIS BOOK IS GRATEFULLYDEDICATED TO DIANA WYNNE JONES. THANK YOU FOR THE STORIES AND FORTHE LEG UP.

T HE king of Attolia was passing through his city, onhis way to the port to greet ambassadors newly arrived from distantparts of the world. The king was a newcomer and a foreigner, kingonly by virtue of a political marriage to the queen of Attolia andstill unfamiliar to most Attolians. They massed along the SacredWay to see him for themselves, as well as to cheer their queen, whorode beside him in the open coach. One member of the crowd, a youngman with a broken nose, a lip twisted by scar tissue, and dirtyclothes that combined to suggest a person of violent and criminalhabits, had a particular need to get close. He was in the companyof an older man, unscarred, but no less shabby, who boosted him upthe side of a stone street marker that labeled the intersection ofthe Sacred Way and one of the larger cross streets.

Lift your right foot up another few inches. Theresa chip out of the corner. Yes, thats it. Are you secure? Canyou see?

Yes, I am set, and I can see. Stop nagging, saidthe younger man. With one foot on a narrow ledge and the otherpressed against the chipped indentation, he was high enough to wraphis left hand around the narrow top of the marker. From thisvantage point, he could see easily over the heads of the peoplegathered in the streets, and with a good grip for one hand, he hadthe other free. They had chosen the marker the day before becauseit offered a view up a long straight stretch of the Sacred Way andhe would have plenty of time to aim.

The crowds were growing thicker. The talk was loud, some of itthe usual complaints about the cost of cooking oil and good wine,and the behavior of the young these days; some of it about the newking. One and all disparaged his Eddisian background, but a fewgrudging supporters mentioned his rumored love for their queen inhis favor. Such romantic stories were dismissed as foolish by themore outspoken, but a few expressions softened. Latecomers eyed theposition on the street marker, but the older man defended theapproach to it with the unwitting assistance of a portly woman andher gaggle of small children. They blocked the access of those whomight have thought they could share the high ground or force theoccupier of it to relinquish his spot. The only danger came fromone or two of the small children who tried to climb up. The youngerman stepped on a few fingers and apologized perfunctorily. Thewoman gave him a dirty look but pulled her children down. As thecommotion uphill signaled the approach of the royal procession, thechildrens father appeared, pushing his way through thecrowd, wiping his hands on his dirty smock as he came. He swept uptwo of the smallest of the children to his shoulders, and they allwatched for the arrival of the carriage bearing the king andqueen.

The young man, with his free hand, dipped into his pocket andthen lifted his hand to his mouth. He lowered his hand again butthis time took a thin tube from the other man standing below.

The king was visible now, sitting upright in the carriage besidethe queen. The carriage drew closer. The young man clinging to thestreet marker took his aim, waited for the right moment, and with aconcentrated puff of air, fired the shot.

The pea hit the king on the cheek. He didnt react, andthe small pellet dropped out of sight into his lap. He tilted hishead to murmur something to his wife, the queen. His assailantwaved and shouted the kings name, just like everyone else inthe crowd, and when the king looked up, his eyes passed over hisattacker without pause.

The royal carriage rolled by. The young man dropped from thestele.

Did you hit him? the older man asked.

Yes, said the younger.

Did he see you?

If he did, he didnt recognize me.

His companion looked grim. Wed better go,he said just as a womans voice said more loudly, Hedid what?

Both of them turned a little too quickly to see the mother ofthe brood of children with her hand on the littlest onesshoulder, the boy clutching her skirts. Who did whatnow? asked the father wearily. But the woman wasntangry with her son.

He says that oneup there on the steleheshot something at the king and hit him in the face, shesaid. Her words drew unwelcome attention from those within hearing.Other heads turned toward them.

I did not The young man tried to deny theaccusation, but the woman was having none of his protest, and hisdenial was abbreviated by a stinging smack from the older man, whothen seized him by the upper arm and shook him so hard his teethrattled.

I cannot believe you! the man shouted. Andwhat your mother will say, I dont know. He swore withvenom and then apologized to the brood mother. Mynephew, he explained, he breaks his poormothers heart. The mother nodded warily, only partlysatisfied.

I never said the younger man sullenly, onlyto be shaken again.

Youll shut your mouth and come home withme, snarled his companion.

The youth allowed himself to be dragged off, followed by theapproving nods of the witnesses, and complaining bitterly to hisuncle that hed done nothing at all wrong. Thetwo men turned down the first cross street they reached and out ofsight of the crowd began to walk faster, the older man stillpulling the younger along by the arm.

You know, I dont think youre allowed totreat me like this, the younger pointed out woefully. Theolder man laughed.

Gods protect us, he said, we can only hopethe little monster isnt telling them right now that I handedyou the peashooter.

They both glanced back. A small crowd of shadowy figures, blackagainst the sunlit street, appeared around the corner behind them,the silhouettes of their skirts and smocks easy to identify.

He told them, said the younger man.

Faster, said the elder, and the two broke into arun. Pursued by shouts, they raced down the street and aroundanother corner, and skidded to an abrupt halt, face to face with asquad of the Royal Guard.

Back! Back! the older man shouted, revealing, inhis alarm, a Sounisian accent previously concealed. But theirretreat was already cut off by the people behind them. Through thatcrowd came another squad of soldiers. Murmuring grew at the sightof the Guard, the two mens transgression exaggerated witheach retelling. It was a poison dart they shot at theking! they heard a voice shout from the crowd.

There was a narrow space between two apartment houses, but itwas only an alcove to a door. The older man pushed the younger inand turned to face the soldiers. The accent of Sounis now clear inhis voice, he warned them, Your king doesnt want usdead.

Hours later they sat locked in a dark cell under the palace. Atlast they heard a door somewhere open with a bang and a light setof footsteps approaching, followed by several more sets offootsteps, all heavier, but moving as fast. The younger man jumpedto his feet, but the older, who stepped between him and the door,was first to see the face of the king of Attolia when itopened.

We are uninjured, the magus of Sounis quicklyreassured him.

Thank the gods, said the king. I thought tofind you black and blue.

Indeed, we thought the same, said the magus. Heexchanged a look with his companion that made them both laugh, andhe welcomed the king into his arms for a mutually crushingembrace.

I cannot stay, I am between audiences, saidEugenides, king of Attolia. All the embassies from theContinent seem to have arrived at the same time. With Eddis here aswell, we are scheduled every moment. He looked at theirshabby clothes in puzzlement.

We were traveling anonymously for safetyexplained the magus.

But surely

and then we were robbed on the road.

Ah, said the king, the danger in beinganonymous. Your novel approach made me think secrecy must beimportant, so I told my captain nothing but that you were to beconveyed quickly and quietly. I just learned that he had seen youshooting peas in my face, and I am relieved not to find the two ofyou hanging by your thumbs.