Chapter 4
Blocking the Gorgon's Stare
AN 1217 (AZ 1454) - Early Summer
Castle Notos, Maximilion, Notos
As near as Mab understood, Rowland's enemies had left this land nearly five months ago. Surely that should have marked the end of her bondage. Had she not defended their great city twice? Was that not enough to satisfy him?
In truth, she had neither seen nor heard much of Rowland since the enemy left. Just because the men in iron were gone did not mean that Rowland's war was won, apparently. She thought that he would fulfill his pledge once he was done campaigning in the west. However, there were whispers that he was back in the city, yet he did not once make an appearance. In the past he had frequently visited her whenever he was in the city, but why was it different now? Did he think he could shirk his pledge by avoiding her?
It seemed as if her patience could wear no thinner when the Moonchild appeared. Mab had not seen much of her in some time either.
"Rowland wants to speak with you," she said.
Oh, now he wished to speak with her? No doubt he had some new task he would demand of her. She should have known better than to think for even a moment that she could trust a human.
"Let him come here," Mab replied, sounding more like a jilted lover seeking to make her paramour earn his return to her affections.
Surely she did not see it that way. There was no love lost between them and none to be gained either. The Moonchild, who had the power to pierce the veil of the heart, displayed ever so subtle signs of annoyance.
"He is in council," she said, her voice more level than her expression. "You will be attending."
Even after everything Mab had lost, she still retained some fragment of her pride. Assuming the haughty bearing that had long since been hollowed out, she asked, "And if I refuse?"
"Don't be foolish."
Such a blunt answer. The Moonchild knew Mab had no power to guide her own fate while these chains remained and so nothing Mab could say or do carried any weight. Nevertheless, she acted as if she were still a Queen in truth and not merely in empty title.
"Very well," she said aloofly. "Lead the way."
The Moonchild led Mab out of her chamber. She was not usually given leave to wander about the castle and had little inclination to do so, save for her rare trips to the gardens. After all this time she still had a poor knowledge of the place.
The room she was led into was wider than most, some sort of throne room, it would seem, though in the center of the room was a long table around which Rowland and his men were gathered, drinking and feasting like beasts.
"Here she is," Rowland said when he noticed them enter. Standing up, he raised his cup and said, "All rise for the Faerie Queen!"
His men did so, some laughing and offering up vulgar toasts to her. The worms were beneath contempt. She ignored all others besides Rowland.
"Why have you summoned me?" she demanded, insofar as she could make demands.
"We have a problem and I thought you might be able to help," Rowland replied.
The magic-wielder Scipio, one of the few Mab would credit with having anything resembling intelligence, explained, "In the east, the port of Iakobin was burned with dragonfire, overrun with serpents from the sea and now a third plague has struck, a plague of stone."
"What do you mean?" Mab asked.
"Darklanders have landed on our shore," Scipio replied. "They attacked Iakobin and took it. Those who fled the city speak of men turned to stone. Hundreds of them."
A stone curse? That was something a gnome could do. The Oreads were known to use it in the past. Long ago they used it on the Sons of the Mountain to punish them for their warring ways, but no Oread would be found near the sea.
"Petrification is not so difficult a curse for a mage of decent ability," Scipio said, "but for so many to be petrified narrows down the possibilities considerably. It could be a relic of Old Euros. There are a few creatures capable of this as well. The Gorgon Bull, for instance."
"Or its namesake, the Gorgon of legend," Rowland suggested.
Mab knew nothing of such creatures, if they even existed or if they were simply the fantasies of the humans' fevered minds. No other race could make so much of nothing, but Scipio spoke as if they were speaking of something to be taken seriously.
"The true Gorgon is simply that, a legend," Scipio insisted. "There have been no historical accounts of—"
"But some of them did say they saw a woman who was half-snake," Rowland interrupted him. "We have to consider the possibility."
"The eyewitnesses were subjected to some of the most horrific sights a man can see," Scipio replied. "It is entirely likely that fear twisted what they saw."
This answer did not satisfy Rowland, though.
"Let's pretend this Gorgon thing is real," he said. "What do we do to stop it?"
A testament to the plasticity of the human mind, Scipio took no time at all to think of the very thing that he said did not exist as if it were real. For Mab, what is is and what is not is not. She could not think of reality in any other way besides that in which it had been presented to her.
"According to the legend," Scipio said, "the Gorgon's stare only worked when a person faced the Gorgon. The hero Perseus used a polished shield as a mirror to safely espy the Gorgon and take her head."
Humans and their silly stories. How did they ever imagine such nonsense?
"Foolish mortals," Mab sneered, "you do not need to meet the eyes of your victim to turn it to stone."
"What then, fair lady?" Rowland asked, his tone partially challenging her to justify her interruption.
"If your magic is strong enough, the curse will have no effect," she replied.
"Are you volunteering to slay the beast then?"
It was all Mab could do not to laugh out loud. Did she look like a monster hunter to him? While the prospect of leaving the palace grounds had some appeal, going right into a hive of monsters was not so appealing.
"It is by my power that this city remains secure in your hands. Do you wish to shift that entire burden onto the shoulders of the few who remain here?"
That excuse should suffice. Rowland did not press the issue any further. Instead he proposed an alternative.
"Then could you enchant a charm or something to block the curse?"
It would not be beyond her power, true enough, but he was asking no small thing of her.
"A charm of that strength takes time and much energy to craft," she said. "You cannot possibly expect me to enchant enough charms with such efficacy to equip your army."
"I just need one," Rowland replied.
"One?"
"For me. If I'm immune to the power of this Gorgon, I can kill it."
"Assuming the Gorgon even exists," Scipio said.
Rowland shrugged.
"If it's not a Gorgon, it's something else with powerful magic and a magical beast without its magic is just a beast. Durandal can take care of the rest."
For a moment, Mab considered making a false charm so that Rowland would fall prey to the stone curse. She did not consider it long, though. If anything happened to him, how would she be freed of her chains? Loath as she was to admit it, she needed him and even if he dragged out the days of her captivity, her best chance of release was to keep him alive.
"It will take me three days to complete the enchantment," she said.
Rowland nodded.
"We'll use that time to assemble as many men as we can spare, maybe more than that. Send out the heralds. I want a thousand men armed and ready, waiting in Hebertos in a week's time."
"We won't have much left in the towns if we do that, Captain," one of Rowland's men said.
"We can't worry about that," Rowland replied. "If those monsters continue on like this, it won't matter. We just have to hope they don't move before we do."
"We could send Lord Akasame to keep the monsters occupied while we marshal our forces," Scipio suggested.
"He doesn't have the numbers for it," Rowland said. "Leave him in Kordai. We may need him there if people try to start something in the west."
"Aye, Captain," several of his men said.
Rowland looked back to Mab and said, "I'll leave you to you work, fair lady. I hope to see your masterpiece for both our sakes. A statue isn't going to be able to set you free."
So he had already seen through her thoughts of treachery. Perhaps he also knew that she had enough presence of mind to rein in such thoughts. They were of no profit to her. Even if nothing more than spite drove her, she would be the one to suffer most in the end. It was in her best interests to give him what he wanted and he was all too aware of it. She would make him pay one day, but this was not it.
"You will witness the craft of the Fae, you hateful creature," she said bitterly, "and perhaps then you will know fear."
Rowland grinned at this. Mab mistook it for simple arrogance at the time, but upon later reflection, she realized that was not what he meant at all. He knew Mab plotted against him and he welcomed the challenge. He was beset on all sides, ceaselessly eluding snares without number. They speak of hunters deranged by the hunt who come to love their prey. Here it was the reverse. Rowland craved a hunter clever enough to ensnare him. He would welcome such a hunter and gladly accept the blade. Of course, it was in Mab's own interest that she be that hunter and only after he had released her. Then, in that glorious moment, they would both get what they wanted.