Potter's Field
for Wizards

The Queen's Prisoner

 

Queen Foliana watched through the window of her private room that filled the entire second floor of the West Tower. Two females ambled across the lawn from the Palace. The one wearing the green beret she recognized. She guessed the little girl with the black beret was her daughter.

Once they entered the tower’s door, she adjusted her black-lace shawl before sitting in her over-stuffed pink chair. Prince Ricard left his game to sit on her lap. She waited with mixed feelings, eager to hear the story of Preem’s grave but reluctant to relay her own tale of Sir Riman’s tragic demise.

How could she tell Brodia that her apprentice, Azaly the Pink Assassin, was gone? So far, she had kept her death secret, worried about how the citizens of Otanic would react to the loss of the kingdom’s hero who executed the brown-sash Wizard Jaal three months ago. That righteous slaying led to twenty-five innocent women being hanged before she created Pink Day to remind everyone of Harpin’s brutality. On each week’s Fourthday, her people remembered Azaly’s bravery.

Soon Foliana would have to confess to the young woman’s murder while in her care. If Brodia yelled at her, she would accept the reprimand. Queen or not, she was still subject to errors like any common peasant. This morning’s death of her ‘Rock’, Sir Riman, solidified her resolve to find a haven for her boys far from the war now coming into Otanic like a sea storm.

After the outside guard knocked, he let the two visitors enter. Brodia’s face had weathered, and she looked out of place wearing her gray dress. The child beside her wore a yellow dress with a black beret on her head. They both curtsied. Foliana had to suppress a chuckle at the little girl’s curtsey, which almost toppled her.

“Welcome, Brodia, with a friend,” Foliana said without standing. “In my private chambers, I have no formalities.” Trying to delay talking about this morning’s attack, she added, “I am eager to learn the story of your trip to Lowmouth.”

“Of course,” Brodia began. “First, may I introduce my companion?” Foliana nodded. Brodia pushed the little girl forward, describing her as Preem’s daughter. It gave Foliana a slight pang in her heart, part jealousy of Brodia but also joy that Preem had an heir.

The girl-child held out her hand, saying she was Tresela, the Black Wizard. Foliana shook hands as she smiled at the girl’s make-believe nickname.

“Show Tresela around our room,” Foliana said to Ricard, still sitting in her lap. The two children hurried off to explore each corner of the spacious chamber. To Brodia, she said, “So, tell me about Preem’s tomb.”

Brodia described the grave beside a well, twenty leagues west of Lowmouth. As she talked about praying over Preem’s mound, her daughter came over to say she put her black beret on top of it so her Papa could wear it in the Hall of the Gods. Foliana’s smiled at the girl’s precocious attitude. Then Foliana asked if her Mama had also left anything. She regretted her question as Tresela mentioned a red and blue brooch Brodia placed on Papa’s new home.

“Robbers will find it,” Foliana told Brodia.

“If they do, I hope the Gods curse them until they die as paupers,” Brodia replied. “I offered that jewelry for both of us. Preem will see it from the Halls and know two powerful women loved him.” Foliana nodded her understanding as she realized Brodia was right about the power of the symbolism. “I see you are still mourning for him,” Brodia said.

The queen noted the peeved tone in her friend’s voice. “I grieved for Preem, but this shawl is for Sir Riman, who was my rock. A wizard butchered him this morning. But that mage will pay a long, painful price for his treachery.” She paused to gather her resolve before adding, “And I must now tell you that your apprentice, Azaly, perished in that same attack. She was defending me. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Brodia’s blank expression surprised Foliana. “What wizard attacked you?”

“He was a yellow-sash who left the city a month ago. I recall his name was Nilom. If he hadn’t been so clumsy, he would have killed us all. But he threw Azaly over the parapet with Sosin before surrendering to my guardsmen.”
“Why would he surrender, Foli?”

Brodia’s casual tone and use of her special name, which she hadn’t heard in six years, caused Foliana to rethink what had happened that morning. “I don’t know. It seemed obvious earlier, but I cannot say for sure.”

“Azaly lives; we found her outside the wall. She said she fought alongside Nilom to stop Sosin. Can you describe what you saw?”

Foliana replayed the events from earlier. As she described each bizarre move, she realized Brodia’s interpretation was just as possible. The biggest shock was discovering Nilom was Brodia’s new pupil. At the end, she asked, “What happened to Sosin?”

“I will send Ibun to search for his body. Perhaps he floats upon the Otan River, bound for the South Sea.” Brodia paused before asking, “Where is my student, Nilom?”

“Let us go to the dungeons. Can Tresela stay here to play with Ricard? Our prisons are no place for young children.”
Brodia nodded, and they left together. Halfway down the stone spiral stairs, Foliana realized she had never picked up Brodia telling her daughter to wait for her.

On the walk down, Brodia described Preem’s destruction of Lowmouth’s north gate, killing a brown-sash apprentice with a Harpinian minister. The story pleased Foliana, who considered it retribution for the Great Treachery when Quon pulled down the old palace to murder her family, forcing her to become queen, a role she never aspired to.
The three jailers were standing when she reached the bottom step. As they each bowed low, she waved her hand to have them stand up. “Show us our prisoner,” she commanded.

In the second cell, Foliana saw the baby-faced apprentice Nilom. He was half naked with his hands manacled above his head. When he saw Brodia, he smiled. Foliana felt terrible about torturing him by suspending him from his broken arm. She was about to call for the jailers to free him when Brodia spoke.

“Well, Nilom, you seem to have found yourself in a difficult situation. I trust you will learn something worthwhile from it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, Zenii,” Brodia corrected. The boy’s face burst into a wider grin. “You saved Azaly; she rests now in a nearby tavern, and you stopped Sosin. But you lost Sir Riman.”

The boy’s expression turned into a frown. Then the chain holding up his arms broke. Seconds later, both manacles fell from his wrists. Foliana signaled the jailer over to unlock the cage before Brodia destroyed it.

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