Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Read online

  One did not have to be a genius to decipher the threat in those words. He would return with the king the next day, and if there was no more gold, only that pile of straw, then my life could still be forfeit.

  Or at least my virtue.

  I drew in a breath and told myself that I had already witnessed one miracle, and perhaps I would be able to witness yet more. In the meantime, I might as well do what Lord Edmar had said and “refresh” myself.

  Which I did. The palace servants did not seem to realize that I was not an “honored guest” and instead the king’s prisoner in everything but name, and so I was brought trays of delicious food, and warm water for a bath, and several more gowns, these ones even finer than the dresses I had been provided previously. I napped, too, still exhausted from my mostly sleepless night.

  The one thing I wished for but knew I dare not attempt was to have some way to write my sister and let her know I was well, that I had not suffered any calamity. But a hurried search of my chambers showed there was no paper or ink. Besides, any missive I sent was sure to be intercepted and read…and most likely destroyed, if it contained information the king did not want to get out…and so I did not much see the point. I could only hope that my father had been informed of the “miracle” I had wrought the night before, and then had given Iselda some sort of comforting lie as to my whereabouts, since he at least would know I yet lived. My sister might not entirely believe anything he told her, but it would still be better than having no information at all.

  Night fell. Dinner was brought, and the tray taken away again after I had cleaned my plate of the ragout of beef and vegetables, and the small loaf of bread and fresh-made butter. There had even been a small flagon of wine, which I drank as well. Perhaps it was not wise, wearied as I was, but if this was to truly be my last night on earth, then I should enjoy it as best I could.

  I washed my face and braided my hair for the evening, then slipped into the luxurious bed of carved oak, with hangings of sky blue. The chemise I had been given to sleep in was of linen so fine it felt almost like silk against my skin, and the feather bed I lay upon was deep and soft, and yet sleep eluded me. Perhaps it was the lengthy nap I had taken this afternoon, although I guessed that my sleepless state had far more to do with what awaited me on the morrow. I could not forget that lascivious gleam in Lord Edmar’s eyes. He must have seen some hesitation in my manner, something that told him the miraculous spinning of straw into gold would not happen two nights in a row.

  Then a footfall, so soft I probably would not have heard it if I had not been lying there awake and watchful. I sat up in bed, willing myself to stay calm. Surely the duke would not lower himself to slip into my bedchamber like this, not when all he had to do was wait for my failure the next day….

  A voice issued forth from the darkness, warm and ironic. “He is a greedy little man, our king, is he not?”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Rumple.”

  He appeared then, looming over my bed, still in the hooded cloak he had worn the night before. Even though I knew he meant me no harm, I couldn’t help recoiling slightly. After all, it was quite disconcerting to be confronted by a large black-shrouded man when lying in one’s bed.

  “Good evening, Annora,” he replied, sounding casual enough. He reached behind him and grasped the chair that sat on the other side of my bedside table, then set it down next to the bed frame. After seating himself, he added, “It appears that my trick of last night was not sufficient to satisfy His Majesty.”

  “No,” I replied. A faint drift of moonlight came in through the partially open curtains, but it was not strong enough for me to actually see him. I began to reach for the candlestick on the table next to the bed, but his gloved hand descended on my wrist.

  “That will not be necessary.”

  “Why don’t you want me to see you?” I asked.

  Silence then, as his hood tilted to one side. He must have been watching me carefully, although I could discern nothing of his face or his expression. “There is no need for that.”

  “Because you are a mage, and if I can identify you — ”

  “What makes you say that?” he inquired, interrupting me. He did not sound angry, though, but rather amused. “I am no mage. Magic doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Then perhaps you would like to explain how you were able to turn straw into gold?”

  “The alchemical sciences are not magic,” he said calmly.

  “That was alchemy?” I asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in my tone. “I had always heard that alchemy required a great laboratory, and glass bottles and beakers and goodness knows what else. I did not see any of that last night.”

  “That may be how some practice that art, but my methods are…different.”

  “Ah. All right, then, it was alchemy. But, leaving that aside for now, you cannot say it was alchemy that allowed you to disappear into thin air the way you did. I saw.”

  “You saw nothing,” he replied, voice still unruffled. “Or rather, you saw a black form disappear into a shadow. How do you know that there was not simply a hidden passageway, one I took to make my way from your cell?”

  “I noted no such passageway.”

  “Of course you didn’t, because it was hidden.”

  From the note of satisfaction in his tone, it seemed he thought he had outwitted me. But I would not be put off quite so easily.

  “Very well, let us also leave aside how you could have come and gone from a dungeon that no one has ever escaped from. How do you explain your presence here tonight? The passages of this palace are well lit and well guarded.”

  The hood tilted again. “Do you always ask so many questions, Annora Kelsden?”

  “I do, if their answers don’t immediately present themselves. Are you also going to claim that there is a secret passageway here? I highly doubt that the king would house me someplace where anyone might come and go without being seen. Besides, I was awake this whole time. I only heard you when you were a few feet away. If you had come in through the door, or even the window, I would have noticed.”

  This time he actually laughed, although low in his throat, so the sound could not possibly be overheard. “Ah, well, I suppose you have me there. All right, we shall be honest with one another.”

  “We shall?” I asked, interest piqued. Was he now going to confess that he truly was a mage? For of course I did not believe his story about alchemy, not for one moment.

  “Yes,” he replied. “There is actually a trap door in the ceiling not too far from the foot of your bed. I lowered myself down through that.”

  Oh, of all the impertinence! I pushed the bedclothes aside and stood, reaching for the dressing gown that had been draped on top of the silk coverlet. Perhaps I should have been more concerned about my dishabille, but I did not get the same impression from this “Rumple” that I did from Lord Edmar. Mage or no, Rumple did not appear to have any particular designs on my person.

  After knotting the sash around my waist, I turned back toward him. He had not moved, still stood there like one of the room’s shadows come to life. “Why are you here?” I asked simply.

  “Because it seems you are still in need of some assistance.”

  I could not deny that. “So you intend to help me again?”

  “Yes.”

  How I wished I could see his face, could detect something of his expression! His voice was rich and deep, musical almost, but I could only glean so much of his mood by his inflections, especially since I could not claim to know him well.

  Or at all, really.

  “Why?” I asked.

  He did move then, going from the bedchamber to the study next door, where the spinning wheel stood. The two rooms were connected by a door, so there was no need to enter the suite’s central hallway. I could but follow him, wondering what his purpose was.

  After stopping next to the spinning wheel, he reached out with one hand and touched it gently, so that the wheel began to move in lazy
circles. “Does it matter?” he returned.

  “It matters to me.” Perhaps it was foolish of me to be so blunt, but I would rather the evil I knew than the one hidden from me. “I would like to know what you expect of me in return.”

  “Expect?” Rumple replied, sounding almost surprised. Then he went on, “Ah, I see. No, I am not like Lord Edmar, seeking to use my power to take that which a woman should always willingly give. I expect nothing, Annora, save that you sit here and spin this straw into gold.”

  Relief coursed through me at his words, although at the same time I was puzzled. If he did not expect…that…of me, then what was his purpose here?

  “I don’t understand,” I said slowly.

  “It is not necessary that you should.”

  I bristled at that comment, and he left the spinning wheel and came toward me. Again I was struck by the oddness of my situation, that I should be standing here and speaking so calmly with a man whose face I had never seen, who apparently had the skill to slip into a woman’s chambers at night without being detected.

  He extended a gloved hand to me, and I took it, not certain of what he intended. Then he covered the back of my hand with his free one in the ancient gesture of agreement, the one used to indicate a deal sealed in good faith. His hands were much bigger than mine, which quite disappeared between both of his. The fine leather of his gloves was warm against my skin, soft. I found myself wondering what his fingers looked like beneath that leather casing. Were they callused, the hands of a working man, or smooth, like those of Lord Edmar, someone who had never had to lift a finger in his life, except to ride on the hunt or train his falcons?

  “Annora,” Rumple said, “let me set your mind at ease. My only design is to make sure your life is not in danger. If that means I must return here every night to see that you spin enough straw into gold to make certain you suffer no threat, then I will. I expect nothing of you. Nothing at all.”

  “Nothing?” I replied, then managed a shaky laugh. “It does not seem like that fair a bargain.”

  He released my fingers, and his hand dropped back somewhere within the folds of his cloak. “Well, except perhaps a little company. If you do not mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” But even as the words left my lips, I had to wonder again at his true purpose. He would come here, and use his powers — whether alchemical or magical — to create enough gold for a king’s ransom, and want nothing of me except to be in my presence, perhaps to share some conversation?

  “Very good. But I suppose now you should get started. You were awake until almost morning last evening, and it would not do to deprive you of your sleep every night.”

  I saw the wisdom in that. At the same time, my heart sank a little at the prospect of having to sit at the spinning wheel night after night, producing more and more gold to feed the king’s greed.

  But no. I would not allow myself to think that. I would sit here and produce another gleaming skein of golden thread, and perhaps that would be enough to convince King Elsdon that he had enough. After all, he already had storehouses full of treasure. How much more could one man — even a king — possibly need?

  “You are very kind,” I murmured, but Rumple only gave a noncommittal lift of his shoulders, as if he did not believe my words.

  Deciding to let the matter go for now, I took my seat in the chair and gathered up some straw. Once again I laid it on top of the starter yarn — only this time it was not yarn at all, but the remnants of last night’s gold threads — and watched as it somehow shimmered and twisted and transformed while I worked. This time around, I knew better what to expect, and so did not pause to gawk at that impossible skein of purest metal. It wound around the bobbin, growing thicker and thicker.

  Since Rumple had said he desired conversation from me, I asked, “And is it — is it truly real? For I have read that long ago the mages could cast illusions that looked as real as anything, only they would melt away after a day, or a week.” If that were the case, I would be in a great deal of trouble, should the king have his treasurer check on those threads of gold, only to find they had turned back into straw.

  “It is real,” Rumple said quietly. I noted that he did not bother to protest yet again that he was no mage. “It will not change back.”

  “Then that truly is a wondrous thing.” I was silent for a moment, pondering what such a gift could do to change a person’s life. For it meant that limitless wealth was his to command…or at least to command from another. Following up on that thought, I inquired, “Could you do this yourself? Or do you need someone else for your power to work through?”

  Even as I asked the question, I did not think I liked the sound of it very much. To be used as a conduit for such power…it was frightening.

  He seemed to note my unease, for he said at once, “I can do it on my own. That is, I could change a regular brick into a brick of gold, merely by holding it in my hands. But the lie your father told involved spinning straw into gold, and I know nothing of the weaver’s arts. So you must do the spinning, and then I can let the enchantment flow through your fingers.”

  “So you are a mage.”

  “Of course I am.” He paused then, seeming to regard me closely. “Does that frighten you?”

  “I don’t know,” I told him. That was only the truth. Everything I had read about those long-ago wielders of magic had made them seem very fearsome indeed, but Rumple had done nothing to me that could be perceived as threatening. Indeed, the ones who had threatened me were the king and the duke, and not this strange man who controlled the sort of power the world thought long gone.

  “That is an honest answer,” he said with a chuckle. “I suppose it must be odd, to know that magic is not quite as dead as everyone thinks.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Perhaps in some way I am not sure I entirely believe you, and yet there is this.” I raised my right hand, which was unoccupied at the moment, and gestured toward the gleaming thread that wound itself around the bobbin as I worked the treadle. “With this power, you must be very rich.”

  “You think so?” Once again that note of amusement was back in his voice.

  “So you are not?”

  “Conspicuous wealth brings attention, Annora. I live comfortably, but not in any sort of fashion that would attract comment.”

  I considered that statement for a moment as I continued to spin, the pile of straw at my feet already almost gone. At first it did puzzle me that he should be able to produce as much gold as he wanted, and yet somehow did not. Surely one would want to have all the comforts that such wealth would bring. But then my father entered my thoughts, and I realized that if he had this power, it would not matter. He would find more and more ways to foolishly spend the wealth he created, and yet would still never be satisfied. Much better to know one’s limits, to choose to only have as much as was needed to live well but not grandly.

  “That makes a good deal of sense,” I said.

  “I am glad you think so.” Rumple had been sitting on the small divan under the window while I worked, but he stood then and came closer to me. “You have almost finished.”

  “It did go more quickly tonight.” As I spoke, I bent and gathered up the last bits of straw and set them in my lap. One by one they slipped from my fingers, turning to gold and winding around the bobbin. At last I was done. I reached out and touched the heavy thread, feeling the cool smoothness of it beneath my fingertips. I rose from my chair as well, adding, “And if the king still deems that not enough to cover my father’s debt, then I shall know for sure he is lying, and only keeping me here to provide more gold for his coffers.”

  The mage did not respond to that, but touched the golden thread as well, his fingers resting only an inch or so away from mine. My first instinct was to pull away, but I thought that would be rude, and so I remained where I stood. He was very close, so close that a fold of his cloak touched the dressing gown I wore. Although he had said he had no expectations of me, I could feel my pu
lse begin to race. It would be easy enough for him to reach toward me, to pull me against him….

  But he did not. He moved away from me, saying, “It is only a little after midnight. Rest now, Annora. I daresay you have earned it.”

  And then he was stepping toward the window, and his cloak billowed around him. For a few seconds, the moonlight silhouetted his form, showing that underneath the cloak he had on the close-fitting breeches and doublet all the men of my land wore, along with high shining black boots. I still had no idea what his face looked like, but in form he seemed well-made, with broad shoulders and long legs.

  After that I had no more opportunity to gape, for he was simply gone. In some of the books I had read, it had sounded as if the mages made a great fuss when coming and going, appearing in a shower of sparks or whatnot, but there were no such fireworks here. In one second he was there, striding purposefully toward the window, and in the next….

  He simply wasn’t.

  I put my hand to my breast, felt my heart thumping there. Yes, he had decided to be truthful with me about himself…up to a point…and yet the way he had disappeared struck me with far more force than those magical golden threads I had helped him to conjure. Whoever he truly was, and wherever he had come from, he was like no one else I had ever known.

  With a tinge of sadness, I thought, Perhaps he is the only one of his kind….

  Chapter 6

  As shocked and startled as I might have been by Rumple’s revelations, my unsettled state did not prevent me from falling into a deep, deep slumber, one which surrounded me in such oblivion that it took someone shaking me awake the next morning and an unfamiliar woman’s voice saying, “My lady, you must get up. The king will be here at any moment,” to make me startle out of sleep and sit bolt upright.

  Standing above me was a woman I had never seen before, perhaps some ten years or so older than I. Her dark blonde hair was twisted into a series of intricate plaits and wrapped around her head, and she wore a neat but simple gown of dark blue piped with gold.