by David Debord
“What is this?” a shrill voice cried. Orbrad sat stiffly on his throne, pressing his ample girth backward as if he could vanish inside it. Queen Agnes and Princess Sophie stood to his right, holding one another tight and staring wide-eyed at the intruders. To his left stood a thin man with a pointed nose and silver hair—Bertram.
Bertram was the king’s steward, but Shanis had observed on her previous visit that the odd man seemed to also have the king’s ear as a royal advisor. He was not a member of the Order of the Fox, but he had previously conspired with Martrin to free Shanis and her party when they’d been imprisoned.
Two guards survived, and they stood flanking the king, swords upraised, looking uncertainly at Martrin.
“This is the end of your rule, Orbrad,” Martrin said. Behind him, Granlor, Shanis, and Devin drew their swords.
One of the guards took a step forward.
“I wouldn’t try it,” Martrin said to the guards. “This is over. Don’t die for a lost cause.”
“Don’t listen to him. Protect your king!” Orbrad shouted.
Shanis heard Gillen whisper, and then the guards began to sway. In a matter of seconds, both went limp and fell to the ground, their swords clanging uselessly onto the stone floor.
“Hurry. They won’t be asleep for long,” Gillen said.
“Witchcraft!” Orbrad’s eyes were like saucers.
Granlor and Devin relieved the guards of their weapons and bound their wrists with rope. By the time they opened their eyes, they lay helpless on the floor.
“How can you do this to me?” Orbrad blathered. “You are a traitor, Martrin.”
“My loyalty is and has always been to a united Lothan. To that end, I support the one person who can heal our wounds— the rightful queen.”
Shanis stepped out from behind Granlor and Devin. Orbrad rose halfway out of his seat but froze. His lips worked furiously, but he managed only choked sounds.
“You are out of options,” she said. “Your forces cannot stand against us, and now you cannot stand against me. Abdicate, and let this all be at an end.”
“I refuse.” Orbrad’s tone was like that of a petulant child. He sat back down on his throne and gripped the seat cushions as if to keep himself from being dislodged.
“You really don’t have a choice. Abdicate, and I will send you and your family into exile with enough gold that you may live out your lives in comfort somewhere far from here.”
Martrin raised an eyebrow at the promise.
“I would sooner die, and so would my wife and daughter. We are the royal family and we will not live out or lives as refugees.”
“Father, please listen to them,” Sophie pleaded. She was a plain-faced girl but didn’t share her parents’ girth. “We don’t have to die.”
“I’ll grant you a new title,” Shanis invented wildly, “and you can make a suitable match for your daughter.”
Orbrad shook his head, making his jowls wobble. “You will have to kill us all.”
Agnes and Sophie began to cry. Orbrad turned and scowled.
“Stop that. We are the royal family of Lothan and we will die bravely. The history books will speak of our courage and devotion to the throne.”
Beside him, Bertram reached inside his robe and drew out a knife. The light glinted along its surface as he pressed the blade to the king’s throat.
“Wait!” Shanis cried, but it was too late.
With a deft movement, the steward opened Orbrad’s throat and stepped back, watching with grim satisfaction as the surprised monarch clutched his throat, trying in desperation to stanch the flow of blood. Beside him, Agnes and Sophie screamed.
It was over in a matter of seconds, but to Shanis it seemed an eternity, but she forced herself to watch as the king expired. Finally, he slumped down, the front of his doublet soaked in crimson.
Ignoring the wails of the queen and princess, Bertram wiped the blade of his knife on Obrad’s cape, slipped it back inside his robe, and then turned and bowed to her.
“Welcome to Karkwall, Your Majesty.”
Chapter 33
“You are working hard. I only hope that’s work for one of our classes.” Naseeb gave Oskar a disapproving look. “You don’t have time to work on your extra project.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Oskar closed his book, stretched, and yawned. Since his elevation to initiate, it seemed like his nose was always in a book. Though they still took the same courses as novits, initiates were given extra assignments to study independently until they were deemed ready for disciple status, at which time they’d be paired with a saikur whom they would shadow and assist, thus gaining real-world experience. For Oskar, that was years away.
“Have you made any progress?” Naseeb asked.
“I don’t think so. I’m gathering all the information I can, but I don’t feel like it’s anything new or helpful—just confirmation of what I already know.”
The collection of papers Oskar called his “book” lay unbound on the desk. Naseeb began absently shuffling through them until he came to the rubbings Oskar had made from the walls in the lost city of Murantha shortly before he and his friends had found the Silver Serpent
“What are these?”
Oskar frowned. He hadn’t given much thought to the papers. He had wanted to keep them mostly for sentimental reasons, but with all of the resources available at the Gates, they seemed superfluous at best.
“Just some rubbings I made during my travels.”
Naseeb scratched his head. “These glyphs look familiar. I swear I’ve seen their like before, but I can’t say where.”
Dacio joined them and took one of the pages from Naseeb. He held it up to the candlelight and leaned so close that his nose almost touched it. “I’ve been making a study of ancient writing. Would you mind if I borrow these? Perhaps there’s something in the archives that would help me translate them.”
“All right,” Oskar said. He was so distracted by his task that he didn’t really care what Naseeb did with the rubbings. “Just don’t lose them.”
“Where exactly did they come from?” Naseeb asked. “Somewhere pretty old I would imagine.”
“Murantha.”
“What?” Naseeb and Dacio cried in unison. Even Whitt sprang up from his bed and gaped at Oskar.
“You are telling us,” Naseeb said slowly, “that you have been to the lost city of Murantha?”
Oskar realized how surprising, even absurd the statement must sound to his friends. He hadn’t intended to let that bit of information slip. It was one of the many topics Aspin had ordered him not to discuss, but he was tired of keeping so many secrets. He decided that his friends could be trusted. “That’s right. I thought I’d mentioned it.”
A flood of questions ensued and Oskar spent the better part of an hour recounting the tale of how they had met up with Prince Larris and eventually found the lost city.
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Whitt marveled.
“I’m not really supposed to talk about it. I’m relying on you all to keep the secret. Besides, would you have believed me? And even if you thought I was telling the truth, you would probably think I was boasting.”
“I can’t believe this,” Naseeb said. “All this time I thought you were just another country oaf and now I discover you’re, in fact, a hero.” He playfully punched Oskar on the shoulder.
“So the civil war in Lothan is sort of your fault,” Whitt said.
“It’s not his fault. He just helped a little bit.” Naseeb said with a wink.
Oskar managed a shy smile. He hadn’t done anything important in his life until he and his friends had left Galsbur. Receiving praise was still an unusual and uncomfortable experience.
“Oskar, these could be important.” Dacio shook the paper in his hand. “Your research is about the Silver Serpent, which was hidden at Murantha. Until you found it, that is,” he added. “If we can translate these glyphs, there might be valuable information here.
”
“Feel free,” Oskar said. “I’m willing to try anything.” He paused. “Just remember—let’s keep this between the four of us, all right?”
“Agreed,” they all said.
Dacio looked up from the sheaf of papers and frowned.
“What is it?” Oskar asked.
Dacio pointed to the bottom of the door to their room. A shadow was just visible as if someone were standing there. Oskar stood, moved quietly to the door, and threw it open.
Oskar recognized the brown-robed man who stood in the doorway, hand raised as if about to knock. He had escorted Oskar to meet Basilius on Oskar’s first day at the gates. How long had he been standing there and what might he have heard?
“Initiate Clehn? Proctor Basilius would like to see you.” His face red with embarrassment, the saikur hurried away.
Oskar exchanged glances with his friends. He was certain no good would come of this meeting.
Proctor Basilius waited in his sitting room. He didn’t rise when Oskar entered and bowed respectfully.
“Initiate Clehn,” he said. “Please sit down.” His firm tone and flinty gaze told Oskar that this was going to be an uncomfortable meeting.
Oskar took the closest chair and waited for Basilius to continue.
“I have heard some things that are of great concern to me,” Basilius began. “I understand you have been keeping company with the wrong sort of people. Or should I say, the wrong sort of person?”
Oskar was not certain where the proctor was going with this though he assumed this was another of the proctor’s attempts to fish for information about Aspin, so he thought it best to remain silent. He did his best to appear politely confused.
They sat in silence until Basilius grew impatient.
“You are aware that we do not allow women at the Gates. And we do not enter into relationships with women?”
Oskar’s stomach fell. Basilius knew about Lizzie. “I’m sorry?” he managed.
Basilius scowled. “Don’t play coy with me, Initiate. I know you have been keeping company with a woman of ill repute.”
Oskar made a small gesture with his open palms but did not reply.
Basilius stared at him from beneath hooded lids until he finally let out his breath in a sharp exhale. “Initiate Clehn do you or do you not know a woman named Elizabeth?”
“It doesn’t sound familiar.” That wasn’t technically a lie. Lizzie had never told him that her name was Elizabeth. “What is her surname?”
“She claims not to have one. But I am sure the constable will extract it from her in short order.” Basilius stared at Oskar, trying to measure the effect of his words.
Oskar somehow managed to remain calm and outwardly relaxed. “I’m sorry Proctor, but I fear I can’t help you. Incidentally, who told you that I know this person?”
“Where a proctor gets his information is not the business of an initiate.”
“I only meant...”
Basilius slapped the arm of his chair. “I don’t care what you meant. You are far too arrogant for a boy of your station and skills. I realize Aspin is Denrill’s favorite, and you are Aspin’s creature, but a prelate’s term of service is not necessarily for life. Sooner or later every man is called to account for his misdeeds. Think upon that.” His face turned beet red. “This meeting is at an end. See yourself out.”
Oskar stood, bowed, and headed for the door, trying to remain calm. Inside, his nerves were jangled. Confused thoughts whirled through his mind.
“It’s a shame you don’t know the young lady,” Basilius said as Oskar opened the door. “Perhaps you could have given evidence to her good character at the trial.”
It took everything Oskar had, all of his self-control, to not turn around and confront the proctor, but he knew it would not do any good. It would only confirm that he had a relationship with Lizzie. He closed the door gently behind him and did not quicken his pace until he was well out of earshot.
When he returned to his quarters, he threw open the door. His friends looked at him in alarm.
“What’s wrong?” Naseeb asked.
“I need your help.”
Chapter 34
Larris strode along the northern stretch of Archstone’s city walls, looking out into the distance as if he could see the armies that threatened his kingdom. Somewhere in the distance, Galdora’s forces struggled to hold back the armies of Kyrin, and he was powerless to do anything about it. Orman had left three days earlier, taking with him the bulk of the city’s troops. All that remained was a skeleton force guarding the city, plus a handful of the rawest recruits at the academy. The war was far away, yet he keenly felt his city’s vulnerability. A stiff breeze lent a chill to the cold feeling running down his spine. Something bad was about to happen. He was sure of it.
“I still don’t know what my uncle is playing at,” he said to Allyn, who walked beside him. “Assuming the regency and then immediately leaving the city?”
Allyn ran a hand through his hair. “We know he’s in league with the temple. I can only assume there’s some sort of power grab in the works, but for the life of me I can’t see how taking all the troops south fits in.”
Up ahead, two guards, one tall and dark, the other short and fair, lounged against the parapet. As Larris drew closer, they stood at something close to attention.
“What is this?” Allyn barked. “You do not salute your prince?”
With a slowness bordering on insolence, the two men pressed their fists to their hearts and made awkward bows.
“I’ll have your names,” Allyn said.
“May I ask who you are?” The taller guard’s eyes bored into Allyn. “You aren’t the prince.”
“He’s the man who is going to defenestrate you both if you don’t give him your names,” Larris said, managing to suppress his grin at the sight of the man’s bulging eyes.
The shorter guard spoke up immediately. “It’s Edgar and Marcus. Please forgive me, Highness, but please don’t defenes...whatever that word was. I prefer women, you see.”
Allyn rolled his eyes. “By all the gods. We’re relying on the likes you to protect our city?” He turned to Larris. “We’re doomed.”
Larris ignored the comment though he thought his friend had a point. He turned to the guards. “When guard changes, report to Commander Rayburn for remedial training.”
“Yes, Highness,” they said in unison. Each bowed again and then snapped to attention.
Larris and Allyn continued their walk. When they were out of earshot, Allyn cocked his head. “Don’t you have to have a window in order to defenestrate someone?”
“I think you’re right, but they didn’t know that.” He stopped, turned, and leaned against the parapet. Dark clouds hung low in the distance. “A storm is coming.”
“In more ways than one,” Allyn agreed.
Larris nodded.
“I quit.”
Allyn turned to him and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m finished with this life. I’m going to take Mother, and you if you want to come, and find Shanis. I’ll be her consort, or whatever it is she wants me to be. I deserve to be happy, don’t you think?”
Allyn’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not. I just wanted to say it aloud to try it on for size. A part of me wants it, but I could never do that.”
Allyn let out a slow breath. “I can’t decide if I’m relieved or not. I would give much to be out on the road again. I can’t breathe in the city.” He tugged absently at his collar. “But I would no sooner leave right now than you would. I’ve been sworn to you and your house for as long as I can remember.” He stiffened, his eye wide.
“What is it?”
“Let’s keep walking.” Not waiting for Larris, he turned and strode away. “I just realized something. I think I’ve seen the dark-haired guard before.”
“Where?”
Allyn fixed him with a long, measured look before answering. “A
t the temple.”
Larris resisted the urge to look back at the two guards. No need to let the men know they’d drawn undue attention to themselves. “If the temple is insinuating itself into the city guard, we need to do something about it. Let’s talk to Rayburn.”
They met with the grizzled commander of the guard in Larris’ private chambers. He knew the fact they were meeting here would draw attention, but at least the trusted guards outside his door would make certain that no prying ears would hear their discussion.
“With so many men of fighting age joining the army, the pickings have been slim for the guard. Mazier took it upon himself to bring in a sizable number of new recruits. I can’t say whether or not they have a connection to the temple.” Rayburn frowned down at his scarred hands. “Forgive me, Highness, but I don’t trust Mazier or Jowan.”
“Neither do I.” Larris turned to gaze out the window at the gray day. The pieces were coming together. Orman was in league with the temple, and Mazier had clearly favored Orman for the regency. The Vizier had now taken the unusual step of recruiting men for the city guard. If he were taking it upon himself to filter men loyal to the temple into the guard, could a coup be in the offing?
Allyn seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “We need to keep you safe, Larris. If we find out that Lerryn is dead, they need only to dispose of you and Orman becomes Jowan’s puppet king. And then how long before the monarchy is set aside in favor of a temple-dominated council?”
“I won’t go into hiding,” Larris said. “I’ll have to rely on you to watch my back.” He turned to Rayburn. “I assume you have a record of which men were brought in by Mazier?”
“Of course.”
“Split them up. Pair as many of them as you can with men whom you know to be loyal and incorruptible, and tell those men to keep an eye on these new recruits. Assign the rest to tasks that won’t afford them opportunities to cause trouble. Keep your ear to the ground for connections any of your men might have to the temple. And turn away any recruits Mazier sends you. Allyn will begin the search for new guards.”