Douglas Niles: Measure and the Truth

Then the mask was dropped. Coryn’s expression warmed, and she reached out to take Selinda’s hand.

“Well, that’s bigger news than anything I can tell you. Congratulations, my dear.”

Selinda looked away, changing the subject. “But what is the word from over the mountains? As I said, they tell me nothing.”

“Jaymes took his army all the way through the pass and down to Vingaard Keep. I understand that he intends to stand firm and that he doesn’t expect Duke Kerrigan to agree to his terms.”

“So-there will be civil war?” asked Selinda, despairing.

“I hope it won’t come to that-I trust it won’t!” Coryn replied without a great deal of conviction, to Selinda’s ears. “I’m sure they will come to some kind of understanding. The duke has to recognize how important the riches of his realm are to the restoration of empire.”

“ ‘Empire.’ Such an old-fashioned word, it seems to me,” Selinda replied. “I would have thought that, perhaps, the modern world has outgrown such concepts.”

Coryn shook her head firmly. “There will always be a struggle between order and chaos, between light and dark. And a strong empire-an empire that upholds the Solamnic Code, the Oath and the Measure-is the greatest defense we humans have for the future. It is the only thing that can protect us from the scourges that have befallen the elves, from the menace of minotaur invasion that has swept over so much of Ansalon. Of that I am certain.”

“And Jaymes Markham is the only man who could forge such an empire, isn’t he?” the princess asked.

“Frankly, I have invested all of my hopes in him,” Coryn answered. She looked sincerely at the other woman. “He has brought our fractured land together, led our defense against unspeakable evil. He is a great leader-though he has his faults. Even so, I never imagined he would keep you virtually imprisoned here!”

Selinda looked out the window for a long time before squeezing Coryn’s hand and looking again at the enchantress, staring deep into her dark eyes. “Coryn, I need your help.”

“What is it? I’ll do anything I can,” pledged the wizard.

“This baby…” Selinda spoke softly, and her face was wrenched by an expression of raw emotion-grief, rage, and frustration all twisted together. “I am so afraid-I don’t know if I can bear it! What kind of father could Jaymes be? What kind of mother will I be?”

Coryn sat back, shocked. “But-you-you’re pregnant!” she finally stammered. “The die is cast. I mean, it’s natural for you to be afraid-all young mothers are. But… how can I help you?”

“I will not let my life be carried away by this current beyond my control!” Selinda declared in utter sincerity. “Will you advise me, help me? Is it possible… to bring about some delay? To let me think, give me time to reach some decision?”

The wizard stood and moved to the window. Selinda could see that Coryn was trembling, her legs shaking. The White Robe wrung her hands together, stared outside for several interminable seconds, then turned back to the emperor’s wife.

“I–I don’t see what I could do to help,” she said, and Selinda sensed that she spoke candidly. “There is nothing in the repertoire of a white robe wizard that would enable me to do anything even if-”

“Even if you wanted to help me?” the princess finished bitterly.

Coryn sat back down and took both of the other woman’s hands in her own. “I do want to help you. I meant that, and I still mean it. But I spoke the truth: I have no skill, no ability to change or delay this reality.”

Selinda’s eyes welled even as she clenched her jaw. “Isn’t there anyone?” she asked. “Anyone I can turn to?”

The wizard thought for a very long time. “I don’t know, not for sure,” she finally said, speaking very deliberately. “But perhaps you could speak to a priestess… someone you know… a wise woman who could counsel you, could help you to understand, to cope.”

The princess of Palanthas nodded as she worked to keep her expression cool and mask her disappointment. Of course, Coryn was speaking the truth-it wasn’t a matter for a wizard of the white robes.

“There is… there is something I can do that might alleviate your troubles,” Coryn said softly. She removed a slender silver band from a finger on her right hand. “I give this to you-it will assist you in escaping from your prison here.”

Selinda took the tiny circlet and looked at the enchantress curiously. “How?”

“It’s a ring of teleportation. Put it on your third finger-there, like that. To use it, simply twist it three times around your finger, and say the name of the place where you wish to go. It must be some place known to you, and you need to picture it very clearly in your mind. The magic will transport you to that place.”

The princess had a look of awe in her eyes as she examined the little ring, gleaming and silver, on her right hand.

“Thank you,” she said. “Indeed this will help.”

The burly Freemen moved quickly, grabbing Duke Kerrigan and leaping to restrain the two nobles sitting beside him. Chairs tumbled over as the fourth member of the party, Sir Blayne, dived to the ground and, for just a second, eluded the grasp of the guards. The young knight no sooner broke free from the clutching hands than he abruptly disappeared from sight.

“Where’d he go?” demanded one of the Freemen, looking around in confusion.

His partner reacted with more imagination, diving onto the ground where the knight had disappeared, grappling with an unseen presence there. Abruptly a sharp smack sounded, and the guard’s head snapped back. Blood spurted from his nose as he lay, stunned, in the tangle of chairs and feet and milling confusion.

“He’s made himself invisible somehow,” Jaymes declared calmly, pointing as one of the chairs was knocked out of the way. An edge of exasperation crept into his voice. “Surround him! Stop him!”

Then the bearlike Lord Kerrigan suddenly broke free from the two men holding him. With a strangled cry of rage, he lunged toward the emperor, his hands outstretched. One of the Freemen, blade raised, lunged to intervene, and the duke ran headlong onto the blade, forcing the swordsman back a step. With a groan, Kerrigan staggered, dropping to his knees.

“Damn!” snapped Jaymes, grimacing. He looked down at the stricken duke, a crimson blossom spreading across his chest.

And chaos still reigned in the camp. The emperor barked at his men, who ran around like clucking hens trying to locate the invisible Sir Blayne. “Fools!” he demanded. “He’s getting away!”

Another man stepped forward from the army’s entourage. He didn’t wear a knight’s mailed shirt; instead, his tunic was emblazoned with the Kingfisher. He was Sir Garret, one of the mages who like the clerists, had become an integral part of the emperor’s military machine. Garret spoke a word of magic, holding out his hand, fingers splayed.

Immediately young Blayne appeared as the dispelling incantation took effect. The knight could be seen, crouched between a pair of guards, looking around wildly; at first, he didn’t seem to realize that he could be seen.

“There he is!” cried a dozen men at once. As Jaymes’s men lunged for him, Sir Blayne vaulted away with a wild spring-bursting out of the council circle as if he had been shot out of one of the bombards. He streaked toward the waters of nearby Apple Creek with shouts trailing after him.

“Run! Get away from here, my lord!” cried Vingaard’s priest of Kiri-Jolith, firmly in the grasp of several burly Freemen.

Lord Kerrigan writhed on the ground, bleeding from the wound in his chest, breathing bubbles of blood from his mouth and nose.