Columbo Queen

     It was true; I had seen Gandalf -- but the lead-in to that encounter was a story in itself. Never had my powers been more restricted than in that adventure, even though my "clients" accepted my nature almost from the first.
     I was traveling through the country of Paraiyana, a large, wealthy nation in the northernmost Red Mountains. The locals were a gracious people, small and almond-eyed, with caramel skin and impeccable manners. I would have felt entirely out of place among them, if they hadn't been so appreciative of my skills. By the time I reached the capital city of Selinnen, I had earned quite a reputation for myself. Of course, no one knew me as anything but a foreign adventuress.
     The royal city, with its golden-arched roofs and colossal statues, practically begged me to stick around; and I was only too happy to comply. Even a Fury needs a vacation once in awhile. Mine lasted exactly fifteen days.
     The chief priestess found me first, basking in saffron light on a ridge just outside the city wall. In my short time in Selinnen, I'd come to know her face quite well. "Good evening, Mother Zel," I said, rising to give her a (somewhat clumsy) formal bow.
      "Good evening, Kyriel," the priestess smiled, settling to the grass before I'd even finished my bow. I sat down quickly, stunned by her casual manner -- and the fact that she knew my name. Even after all this time in the dreamworld, I still hadn't adjusted to the perks of fame.
     "What brings you to such a lonely spot?" the priestess asked.
      I could ask you the same thing, I thought, but answered aloud, "It's the best place I've found in Selinnen to watch the sun set. Everything's so peaceful up here."
     The priestess closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the sky, breathing deeply. "Yes, it is. Actually, this is one of my favorite spots, too. I feel closer to the divine here than anywhere else -- even the temple." She opened one eye and cocked her head toward me. "Does that surprise you?"
     "A bit," I smiled, "but to be honest, I feel the same way."
     "Glad to hear it." She gave my knee a grandmotherly pat. "Makes you more real -- and more honest." She paused a moment, while a flock of dark birds sailed overhead. "I saw you during the service yesterday; you seemed quite appreciative of my sermon."
     Actually, I'd done nothing more than nod a few times, but one blonde head in a sea of black would be hard to miss. "I did appreciate it," I admitted, with a twinge of unaccountable embarrassment. "Justice issues are very important to me."
     The old priestess' eyes met mine. "Yes," she murmured, "Your passion shines through quite clearly." Silence welled up around us while I searched for hidden meanings in her glance. Mother Zel's face, however, seemed perfectly calm. After a moment, she spoke again. "I take it you're not on assignment right now?"

     I appeared at the rear castle gate early the next morning, before the sun was high enough to bare my foreignness. Dressed in a pale gray robe, my face covered with a cowl and a touch of Fury-shadow, I looked like any other local nun. "I have a message for the Queen from Mother Zel," I told the gatekeeper, and he nodded and waved me through. I was expected.
     A second guard met me at the palace entrance, ushering me inside and closing the door before giving me his deepest bow. "Lady Kyriel?" he asked as he bolted the latch.
     "That's right." I lowered my cowl to show him my face. "Are you the captain of the guard?"
     He nodded a battle-scarred head. "My name is Obed. Please follow me, Lady -- and pull your hood up again, if you don't mind. I'll be leading you through some of the least-used passages in the palace, but even so, we might encounter a servant or two."
     I did as he requested, keeping my thoughts to myself as we wound our way toward the royal quarters. Mother Zel had told me only that the Queen needed my services for a top-secret assignment. There must be spies in the palace, I assumed, if they have to go to all this trouble to get me a private audience with the Queen. Of course, I amended, what palace didn't have spies?
     Eventually we fetched up at a dead-end hallway and the requisite secret door. From there it was only a short tramp in the dark before we reached the royal apartments, emerging from dusty corridors into a bright sitting room swathed in silk and damask. Incense filled the air, but underneath it I caught a whiff of something less pleasant.
     A thin, worried-looking man rose from his chair as we entered the room. "My Lady Kyriel," he murmured, bowing deeply. "Greetings. I am Westin, First Mage to the Queen. I thank you for agreeing to meet with us under such...unusual...circumstances."
     "That's quite all right." I bowed in return. It wasn't the first time I'd snuck into a palace in disguise -- although it was the first time I'd done so at the owner's request. I kept that thought to myself, however, and fulfilled my duty to Paraiyanan etiquette by saying, "I'm honored to be here, incognito or otherwise. How may I be of service?"
     Almost apologetically, Westin spread his hands, letting a blue glow coalesce between them. "If you'll permit me, my Lady, I must check to be sure you are unarmed. Mother Zel vouched for your reliability, of course; but one can never be too careful when a Queen's life is at stake."
     "I understand." I raised my arms and let Westin run his tests, confident that he couldn't find the one weapon that never left my side: the Fury's iron dagger.
     Soon the mage was satisfied, and so was I. "Well, then," Westin clapped his hands together and the glow disappeared. "That's settled. Let me take you to the Queen." He led me down another corridor, Obed following silent at our heels, and paused outside an open door of dark polished wood. "Lady Kyriel," he said, "may I present Queen Analendra, ruler of all Paraiyana."
     The first thing I noticed, as I stepped into the room, was the smell. Very rarely in R2 did one encounter sickness, since a healer could cure almost any ill -- for the right price, anyway. But here was the Queen of all Paraiyana, a woman rich enough to afford the best cures in the land, sweat-sheened and fever-wasted as any R1 sufferer. She sat propped upright in a canopy bed, thin body almost invisible among the welter of pillows. On the far side of the bed sat an elderly man in healer's robes, looking nearly as haggard as Analendra herself.
     "Ah, Lady Kyriel," the Queen husked, gesturing me into the room, "how good to see you at last. I have enjoyed hearing of your adventures in Paraiyana." She held out a trembling hand. "Please, come closer. I'm afraid circumstances have left me unable to raise my voice for long."
     "Of course, your majesty." I dropped a quick bow and moved to her bedside, settling into a plush velvet chair.
     Analendra smiled at my haste. "You don't seem afraid of my illness."
     "Not for myself, your majesty," I answered sincerely. I'd rarely seen anyone this ill even in R1; and if the healer couldn't help her.... She'd been a good Queen, from all I'd heard. The people would miss her.
     Analendra seemed touched by my concern. "How kind," she murmured, and smiled again. "But you needn't fear for me, either, lady warrior. I am already in better health than I was two days ago, when I was first poisoned." She glanced fondly at the old healer, but directed her next comment to Westin. "Isn't that right, cousin?"
     The mage stepped to her bedside and laid his hand on hers. "She should have died," he said, his eyes fixed on the Queen. "And if the poison had acted any slower, she would have. Fortunately, she had taken just a single sip of the wine before she fell ill."
     "And fortunately, also," Analendra continued, "Westin and I were alone at the time. We called Jacus in immediately" -- here she glanced at the healer, who gave me a tired nod and then closed his eyes -- "but beyond him, no one else knows of my condition except you, Obed, and Mother Zel."
     "What about the poisoner?" I frowned.
     Westin answered to spare his cousin the exertion. "Our wine steward killed himself the night Analendra fell ill. Among his effects we found a coded letter in which he admitted responsibility for the poisoning, but named Count Nerian as the instigator of the attack. The Count, he said, had blackmailed him into compliance."
     "And you believe him?" I asked.
     "We do." The mage's lips tightened. "Nerian was born fourth in line to the throne, but in the past five years his two predecessors have died under what seem, in retrospect, rather suspicious circumstances. Besides, nothing but blackmail would make Yaris turn on his Queen. He was one of our most trusted servants. Unfortunately," he cleared his throat as though embarrassed, "at this time Yaris' letter is the only hard evidence we have. Even the poison residue broke down before we could have in analyzed. This was an incredibly well thought out murder attempt."
     "So you've called me in for a bit of field work," I surmised. "What do you want me to do, sneak onto Nerian's property and search for evidence?"
     Westin grimaced. "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that. We don't know what we're looking for, or how to find it."
     I blinked. "All right, then," I tried again. "What's my assignment?"
     Westin squeezed his cousin's hand and smiled gently. "You're bait."

     The plan was fairly straightforward. Nerian would be desperate for news by now, knowing that Analendra must be alive, but not knowing her condition. Westin's magic would allow me to impersonate the Queen, appearing on the Count's doorstep and, hopefully, tempting him into a second try at murder. Obed would be along for the ride, both as protection and as a second set of eyes. I felt a little like Columbo, called in not to find a murderer, but to prove the guilt of the one we already suspected. There was one important difference here, though.
     "Westin," I said, as the mage led me out of the sickroom, "I'm flattered to be given such an important assignment, but I do have one question."
     He paused, smiling. "Let me guess. You're wondering why we trust you so much when we barely even know you."
     "Well, yes," I nodded. "I mean, you are going to give me the face, voice, memories and mannerisms of your only Queen." I put on my most non-threatening tone. "What's to stop me from killing you both and claiming the throne for myself?"
     By this time we'd reached our destination: a massive, totally featureless stone door. Westin spelled it open, seemingly unperturbed. "Two things, my Lady. First -- " he ushered me into the room -- "the disguise spell will last only as long as I will it. Should you kill me, or even make me doubt your motives, you will instantly resume your true appearance. And second"-- he and Obed followed me into the room, and he closed the door-- "there's this." To my surprise, he fingered the sleeve of my robe.
     "I don't understand."
     "Of course not." Westin seemed downright cheerful for a moment -- relishing my confusion, no doubt. "Mother Zel chose your robe, yes?"
     "That's right," I frowned. I'd had no contact with anyone at the temple but her.
     Westin smiled. "Our chief priestess," he said carefully, "has the gift of discernment. If she hadn't approved of your spirit last night, you wouldn't be here this morning. As for the color of your robe, she chose it to signify the state of your heart." He chuckled as I fingered the pale gray material. "Don't be alarmed, Lady. Not even the Mother herself dares wear white."
     After a moment, I managed a wry grin. "Well then," I sighed, "I suppose we should all feel glad I passed the test. But what would you have done if I'd failed?"
     Westin shrugged. "Impersonated the Queen myself, I suppose -- and probably been killed for my efforts."
     At that, even the stolid Obed had to snort.
     The mage frowned. "You disagree, Captain?"
     Obed snapped to attention. "No, sir, not for a moment, sir." But was that a trace of a smile I saw on the soldier's lips? My estimation of him rose several notches.
     Westin, meanwhile, looked more than a little embarrassed. "I must confess," he told me, "much as I love my cousin, I would not have cared to be her for a week. Thank Chresta magic users are such poor warriors. Even were I a woman, I would not have been Analendra's first choice for the role. We were quite fortunate to find an adventuress in our midst."
     Obed tipped his head minutely.
     "Well then," Westin brushed aside his discomfort, "let us move on. If you'll step this way, Lady...." He led me through a maze of bookshelves, alchemist racks, talismans, and assorted arcana -- all quite neatly arranged, as such troves went.
     In the rearmost room, behind a second charmed door, lay the object of our quest. "Our memory collection started about fifty years ago," Westin explained, gesturing to the racks of small chests lining the walls. Alike in size, the boxes had little else in common: some were carved of wood, others of ivory, still others made of gold or silver inlaid with jewels.
     "My father learned the technique from a wandering wizard," Westin said, tossing a glance toward the first chest on the left. Clearly the oldest of the lot, it was a simple wooden box carved with a single rune: something like a tree with two branches, both pointing to the right and upward. Somehow, it looked very familiar to me. "Westin -- " I started, but the mage was headed toward the other side of the room, still talking.
     "We'd like to keep more of our court records on memory globes," he told me, "but unfortunately, the process is rather time-consuming, as you'll see for yourself when you give us the details of your expedition."
     I nodded. When Nerian (we hoped) was brought to trial, my testimony would be by memory globe. Reluctantly I shoved the first box out of my mind; after all, it would still be here when I returned. "How does the recording actually work?"
     Westin frowned. "The magic is rather complicated, I'm afraid; but your part in the procedure will be simple enough. We both place our hands on the ball, and you tell me what you remember of the events in question. The orb uses your words as a cue to fill in details of sight and sound, which it draws directly from your mind. In the end, we have a complete record of everything you experienced, even the parts you don't consciously remember."
     Thinking of the process, I felt like an FBI informant being "wired" to infiltrate a gang; only this wire would have both audio and video capability ... and it would be utterly undetectable. It was a fascinating concept, but also a disturbing one. After all, there were some things about myself I didn't want on permanent record. "Suppose I lie?" I blurted. Well, the idea would have occurred to Westin anyway, whether I brought it up or not.
     The mage dismissed the notion with a shake of his head. "The orb doesn't record your words; only the memories themselves. There's no way to lie to it. Of course," he gave me a kind but piercing glance, "The orb records physical evidence only -- sights and sounds -- and even those may be edited at our joint discretion. Please don't worry, Lady. We have no need to record your most intimate thoughts, or your most intimate functions. All we need is proof of Nerian's intent to murder the Queen."
     As he spoke, he withdrew three chests from the shelves, laying them on a table in the center of the room. "These will give you all the information you need to impersonate Analendra. Here we have the condensed history of Paraiyana -- " he flipped open the first lid, revealing a fist-sized orb of black crystal. A spark of crimson glowed at its center. "Next is a guide to royal etiquette" -- a second chest, an identical ball. Over the third chest, Westin paused a moment, nervously clearing his throat. "And, finally, we have pertinent memories of Analendra, compiled mainly by Mother Zel, Obed and myself. The Queen was too ill to do more than a little of the recording on her own. We have done our best to give you everything you might need, but naturally you should expect a bit of editing.
     "Well then," he cleared his throat a second time. "Let us begin. We shall start with history, I think." Carefully he lifted the first ball from its cushion, the crimson sparking brighter at his touch. He cradled it reverently in both hands. "If you will place your palms on top of mine, Lady," he prompted. I swallowed my reservations and complied. The crystal was warm to the touch.
     Westin spoke a word of magic and I jolted under the onslaught of a billion new memories, pouring into me in a single bright stream. I felt myself falling backwards, hands still glued to the orb; but Obed caught me before I could hit the floor.
     "My apologies," Westin coughed as I struggled my way back to the present. "I suppose we should have started with the smallest record and worked our way up to that one."
     "No kidding," I muttered. I'd taken cudgel blows that hurt less than this.
     The mage seemed unconcerned. "Quickly now," he said, "trace the Queen's lineage from her father back to her great-great-great grandmother."
     "Suterya, Malaninda, Folon..." I rattled off the list, names flowing from my brain as easily as if I'd been born with them. Ancient faces appeared in my head: kings and queens and the wise folk who told me their stories. Some of their tales I knew firsthand, as if I'd participated in the battles and coronations myself. Other knowledge, mainly the oldest records, came to me second-hand, in memories of fireside chats and the lectures of wise historians. I looked into a thousand different mirrors and saw a thousand different faces staring back at me. "This is amazing!" I laughed, boggling at the sudden wealth of knowledge. I felt twice as old as I had been.
     Westin was less impressed. "Quite," he nodded simply. "Now tell me the first King of our land."
     "Yanosimi the Golden," I laughed. "Give me that second ball!" I could become addicted to this sort of thing.
     The mage brought out his second orb and we repeated the procedure. This time the shock to my nervous system was less severe, or maybe I was better prepared now that I knew what to expect. At any rate, Obed didn't have to catch me twice. When the transfer was complete, I found myself standing a little straighter and responding to Westin's test questions with a trace of Paraiyanan flourish.
     "And now for the third ball." The mage's lips tightened as he lifted the orb from its box. I reached out carefully, achingly aware of what had been entrusted to me.
     As Westin warned, most of these memories came to me secondhand: Analendra as seen from Westin's perspective, or Obed's, or Mother Zel's. Still, it was a very complete picture of the Queen; the mage had kept his "edits" to a minimum. I could tell you Analendra's favorite color, for instance, or her least favorite food, or the name of her first love -- but I couldn't tell you what had happened when she and that lover were alone. I knew the Queen and Westin had grown up like brother and sister, but I didn't know their nicknames for one another.
     Most disconcertingly, I knew every painful detail of Analendra's relationship with Nerian -- and they had been lovers before they'd been enemies. No wonder Westin had been reluctant to give me this knowledge, I thought; I was reluctant to receive it. It must have been torture for him to record these scenes, knowing they'd find their way into the head of a stranger. Of course, we had no choice, but that couldn't have made the process any easier for him. I knew now just how he felt about his Queen: he'd have married her, if he could. Unfortunately, Paraiyanan law forbade any magic user from holding the throne.
     Westin's voice broke my train of thought. "I shall not test you on this knowledge," he said quietly. "You understand?"
     "Of course." Unthinking, I lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, as Analendra had often done. I checked myself just in time. "You honor me with your trust," I told him sincerely. "I won't abuse it."
     Westin looked away, face reddening. "Now we must return to the Queen."

     Analendra lay just as we had left her, no better, no worse; although Jacus had left the room. I hoped he'd found himself a bed.
     "Greetings again, Lady Kyriel," the Queen said, attempting a smile. She seemed nearly as nervous as Westin, and again I was reminded of her affair with Nerian.
     "Your grace." My body flowed naturally into the full Paraiyanan bow, the one I'd had so much difficulty with before. "I am humbled, but ready to continue."
     Analendra cocked an eyebrow at Westin. "Well, cousin, you certainly didn't skimp on the etiquette lesson."
     "Nor on anything else," the mage grimaced. "Shall we proceed to the final steps, then?" He beckoned me to join him beside the bed.
     As much as he wanted to get the procedure over with, I felt no need to rush. If anything, I feared this stage of our plan even more than I had my first memory orb. I was about to lose my face, more surely than I ever had in taking the Fury form. That shape, at least was my own; but Analendra's features were alien to me.
     Westin ran his hands over the Queen's face, letting the blue glow of magic flow down her features. It looks like she's being Xeroxed, I thought, a little giddily. I'll have to remember to close my eyes when it's my turn. The mage's hands continued down Analendra's body, taking in every birthmark, every mole, every detail which Nerian might remember. Not that he'll get a repeat viewing, I assured myself.
     Now Westin turned to me, sober-eyed, concentrating deeply on his task. The glow of magic rose toward my face -- and began to flicker. Blue strobed with black, Fury shadow with mage light.
     At that point, several things happened at once. Westin drew back from me with a hiss, face contorting with horror. Obed rushed forward, sword drawn, wary. And Analendra, hidden now behind her cousin's back, could only plead, "What is it? What is it?" She couldn't see a thing.
     As for me, I could only spread my arms wide and try to look harmless. This, I thought, wouldn't be pretty.