The Curse of Chalion

His familiar cramps doubled him over as usual, but to his surprise, Dondo was silent tonight. Was he, too, daunted by Teidez's death? If Dondo had intended the boy's destruction to follow from Orico's, he had it now—too late to serve any purpose he'd pursued in life.

Cazaril did not find the silence a respite. His heightened sensitivity to that malevolent presence assured him Dondo was still trapped within him. Hungry. Angry. Thinking? Intelligence had not been a notable characteristic of Dondo's spewing before now. Perhaps the shock of his death was passing off. Leaving... what? A waiting. A stalking? Dondo had been a competent hunter, once.

It occurred to Cazaril that while the demon might seek only to fill its two soul-buckets and return to its master, Dondo likely did not share that desire. The belly of his best enemy was a hateful prison to him, but neither the Bastard's purging hell nor the chilled forgetfulness of a gods-rejected ghost was a very satisfactory alternative fate. Exactly what else might be possible Cazaril could scarcely imagine, but he was intensely aware that if Dondo sought a physical form through which to reenter the world, his own was closest to hand. One way or another. His hands kneaded his belly, and he tried to decide, for the hundredth time, how fast his tumor was really growing.

The cramps and the wracking quarter hour of terror passed. Iselle's request returned to his mind. Composing the necessary letter to Ista informing her of her son's death would be excruciating; little wonder Iselle should desire assistance. Unequal to the task though Cazaril felt himself to be, whatever she asked of him in her grief and devastation he must undertake to supply. He uncurled himself, heaved out of bed, and climbed the stairs.

He found Iselle already seated at his antechamber desk, his best parchment, pens, and sealing wax laid out before her. Extra candles were lit all around the chamber, driving back the dark. Upon a square of silk, Betriz was just laying out and counting over an odd little pile of ornaments: brooches, rings, and the pale glowing heap of Dondo's rope of pearls that Cazaril had not yet had opportunity to deliver to the Temple.

Iselle was frowning down at the blank page and turning her seal ring round and round on her thumb. She glanced up, and said in a low voice, "Good, you're here. Close the door."

He shut it quietly behind him. "At your service, Royesse."

"I pray so, Cazaril: I pray so." Her eyes searched him.

Betriz said, in a worried voice, "He is so sick, Iselle. Are you sure?"

"I am sure of nothing but that I have no time left. And no other choices." She drew a long breath. "Cazaril, tomorrow morning I want you to ride to Ibra as my envoy to arrange my marriage to Royse Bergon."

Cazaril blinked, laboring to catch up with a baggage train of thought evidently already far down the road. "Chancellor dy Jironal will never let me leave."

"Of course it can't be openly." Iselle made an impatient gesture. "So you will ride first to Valenda, which is nearly on the way, as my personal courier to take the news of my brother's death to my mother. Dy Jironal will agree, delighted, he'll think, to see the back of you—he'll doubtless even lend you a courier's baton by which to commandeer horses from the Chancellery's posting houses. You know by noon tomorrow he'll have stuffed my household with his spies."

"That was very clear."

"But after you stop in Valenda, you'll ride not back to Cardegoss, but on to Zagosur, or wherever Royse Bergon is to be found. In the meantime, I will insist that Teidez be buried in Valenda, his beloved home."

"Teidez couldn't wait to get out of Valenda," Cazaril pointed out, beginning to feel dizzy.

"Yes, well, dy Jironal doesn't know that, does he? The chancellor would not let me out of Cardegoss and his eye for any other reason, but he cannot deny the demands of family piety. I will enlist Sara's support in the project, too, first thing tomorrow morning."

"You are doubly in mourning now, for your brother and his. He cannot foist another fiancé upon you for months yet."

She shook her head. "An hour ago, I became the future of Chalion. Dy Jironal must take and keep hold of me if he means to control that future. The critical moment is not the beginning of my mourning for Teidez, but of the beginning of my mourning for Orico. At which time—and not before—I pass into dy Jironal's control absolutely. Unless I am married first.

"Once I'm out of Cardegoss, I mean not to go back. In this weather, Teidez's cortege could be weeks on the road. And if the weather doesn't cooperate, I'll find other delays. By the time you return with Royse Bergon, I should still be safe in Valenda."

"Wait, what—return with Royse Bergon?"