by Peter Wacht
What was she supposed to do? Call in the guards? If she did, it would serve little purpose. She couldn’t identify the assassin or his accomplices. Calling out to the guards would most likely alert the assassins that their plot had been discovered. They would simply wait until all the activity died down, and then they would take action. No, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
She had spent the last few hours searching for a solution, but nothing had come to mind. After overhearing the conversation that turned out to be an assassination plot, she had immediately gone in search of her father, only to discover that he had left on one of his journeys.
Gregory of Fal Carrach was known for many things, such as his fierce loyalty and his strict adherence to the law. But what truly endeared him to his people was his desire to improve their lives. Unlike some other rulers, he did not view his power as a way to advance his own interests at the expense of his people. Rather, he saw it as a responsibility to do as much as he could for those who lived under his rule.
So every few months he made a circuit of his kingdom, getting a feel for what was going on, making sure that all of his subjects, even those located in the hinterlands of Fal Carrach, knew that he was interested in their lives and their well-being. It also gave him the chance to check on the preparedness of his border troops, which was a constant concern because of Loris of Dunmoor’s frequent raids and the rumblings coming from Eamhain Mhacha.
Kaylie suspected, though, that there was another reason. Her father chafed at some of the duties forced upon him as king. He hated having to deal with trade emissaries, though he understood the need, and he absolutely detested courtiers. He could do without their constant flattery and false smiles. So his journeys around the kingdom gave him a chance to escape from his more loathsome duties. She truly couldn’t blame him. If she were in his position, she’d do much the same.
She glanced at the paintings she had had moved into her bedroom just a few months before. There were three, all on the wall facing her bed so she could see them every morning as soon as she woke up. She had promised herself after the mistake she had made with Thomas that she would never repeat it. She would become an excellent queen in the tradition of the Highlands – a fighter and a diplomat. So she had searched through the history of Fal Carrach for women who could serve as her inspiration.
On the right was the portrait of Moira of the Black Feathers. Born of peasant stock, she had married a lesser noble of Fal Carrach – Kaylie couldn’t remember his name — who lived near the western border. The lord was killed defending his home from a Dunmoorian raid, and Moira had sworn revenge. She taught herself how to fight.
Once she had deemed herself worthy she had challenged the Dunmoorian lord who had murdered her husband to a duel. The arrogant bastard had laughed at her, but then decided to have some sport. She killed him in a matter of seconds. She then did the same to every man who had participated in the raid. And why the name Black Feathers? Upon the death of each man, she had dropped a black feather on his chest — the feather of a crow, an animal associated with the dead.
The other two women were quite different in that they had never, at least to Kaylie’s knowledge, picked up a sword, but they were every bit as strong as Moira of the Black Feathers. In the center was a portrait of Faethe Loraliee, daughter of Tomasin, King of Fal Carrach a thousand years before her father. Betrothed to a young lord named Vitalis, she had been devastated to learn that he had disappeared after a bloody battle against dark creatures near the Charnel Mountains.
Yet she still hoped for his return as his body was never recovered. Despite the many suitors, she refused their advances. Several years passed, and most everyone called her a fool for holding out hope for her loved one’s return, so her father demanded that she pick a husband. Right before she was supposed to make her choice, her love returned, having been sold into slavery after the battle. It had taken him years to escape, but Faethe’s steadfastness had won out.
And then there was Elenea, wife of Boranon, who was in fact a lesser-known king of Fal Carrach. But perhaps that was because it was Elenea who truly reigned in Fal Carrach while her husband sat the throne. Boranon lacked most of the skills required of a king, but Elenea more than made up for it, functioning as the power behind the throne. During her time, she expanded Fal Carrach’s borders to what they are now.
Kaylie examined each of the portraits closely. These strong women had taken matters into their own hands. As she gazed at their pictures, she finally realized what she needed to do. She’d simply have to take care of things herself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Taking a Risk
Kaylie crouched in the small, shadowy alcove, waiting patiently for the cooks to leave. The scullery maids were almost done cleaning the pots and pans, and as soon as they finished, the cooks would bank the fires and close the kitchens until four in the morning, when the first shift arrived to bake the day’s bread.
With the kitchen empty, Kaylie could sneak out the delivery entrance and mingle unobtrusively with the people going across the bridge into the town of Ballinasloe. It was late evening, and she hoped she wouldn’t miss the rendezvous, but she had little choice. This was the only way to leave the Rock unnoticed.
She had chosen carefully from her wardrobe to ensure a good disguise. She wore a black cloak over a dark green riding dress, something that a fairly well-to-do merchant would own. Also, she had twisted her long black tresses into a bun, something that she rarely did.
Upon checking her appearance in the mirror before making her way to the kitchen, she had been quite pleased with the effect. No one would recognize her except her closest friends or those people she came into contact with frequently at the Rock. And she doubted that she would meet any of them where she was going.
Suddenly, the kitchen was plunged into darkness, and she realized the scullery maids had finished their work and the cooks were leaving. She waited five minutes then made her way to the delivery entrance. Opening the door quietly, she peeked outside. The occasional lamp hanging from a long pole offered some light. No one was about. She quickly exited the kitchen and walked towards the entrance used by the servants who lived in Ballinasloe.
She was in luck. Several women were leaving for their homes. Kaylie quickened her pace until she was right behind the group, though not actually a part of it. As she followed them out onto the bridge her heart skipped a beat as the soldiers glanced in her direction, but much to her relief they nodded a good evening and returned to their watch.
Once across the bridge, she stopped in a small sandwich shop to ask directions. She discovered that the Blue Moon Inn was only three streets to the west looking out onto the bay. In most cities walking alone by the docks at night meant you would be either robbed or murdered, or both. For a woman, there was another danger, one that Kaylie didn’t want to think about. But such was not the case in Ballinasloe. Her father kept a close eye on those who preyed on the citizens of his Kingdom by maintaining a diligent City Watch. In fact, on every street corner, several members of the Watch stood at their posts.
After only a few minutes’ walk, Kaylie reached her destination. She stood in front of a well-kept inn, a shingle with a moon painted a deep blue announcing to all who passed by the name of the building. Kaylie took a deep breath and then stepped quickly up the stairs and through the open doors, steeling herself for what she would have to do.
She was alone. She was frightened. But she had never felt so alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Unwanted Attention
Kaylie sat uncomfortably at the end of the wooden bench. She had waited for three hours, dragging out the dinner she had ordered for as long as possible. And then she had simply sipped at her wine, refusing more than a second glass. She needed to keep her senses about her. She shifted her weight for the hundredth time. No matter how she moved it felt like a splinter stuck her in the worst possible place. Sighing in frustration and boredom, she took another sip from her glass.
The innkeeper certainly didn’t mind the slow speed with which she drank. She had paid him twice the cost of the meal and enough silver for ten drinks so that she would be left alone by the serving staff. But there was nothing she could do about some of the others enjoying a night’s respite in the inn.
“Hello, darling,” said a tall man, a shaggy mustache drooping over his upper lip.
He wore the clothes of a noble and had obviously grown the mustache to hide his youth. Probably no older than Kaylie, he was obviously trolling the inns and bars for a good time.
“Perhaps you’d allow me the pleasure of buying you a drink?”
“No, thank you,” Kaylie replied sternly, hoping the tone of her voice would put him off.
But it was not to be. He pulled a chair closer to her then sat down, his knee grazing hers under the table.
“Just a drink, milady, and no more. Truly I only want to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman such as yourself.”
Kaylie was absolutely certain she knew what the lord meant by the word company.
“I said no, milord. Now please leave me be. The friends I am waiting for would not look on it kindly to see you here now.”
The young lord ignored her warning.
“Milady, rarely does a young woman like yourself choose not to drink with me.” He reached under the table and grabbed her knee, bringing a burst of red to her cheeks. “You may not realize who you speak with. I am Kenesil, a Lord of Benewyn. Obviously you are a merchant. My father and I run one of the largest trading conglomerates in the east. If you satisfy my desires, I’m sure there is some arrangement we can reach to advance your—”
The young lord’s words ended in a strangled gasp. He looked down to see the point of a dagger pressed into his groin.
“Milord, as I said, leave me be.” Kaylie’s voice was stone cold, her face an angry red. “And if you do not satisfy my desires, well, with the flick of my wrist you won’t be satisfying anyone’s desires ever again.”
The young lord gulped, looking down at the dagger poised between his legs one more time.
“My pardon, milady. My pardon.” In an instant he was up from his chair and out the door.
Kaylie replaced the dagger in the sheath on her belt. Five men had tried to work their magic upon her during the evening, and of the five the last was the most difficult to persuade that she wasn’t interested. She smiled to herself. The look of fear on that young lord’s face was worth the aggravation he had caused her. Kaylie shook her head in frustration. It was well past midnight and time to leave the Blue Moon Inn. Much to her dismay, she realized she must have arrived too late for the meeting.
To her surprise a tall man with curly black hair walked in. More important, though his collar was pulled up high on his neck she could see the beginnings of a scar. The assassin! He stopped for a moment to survey the crowd. Then he moved quickly across the common room to join two men sitting at a table on the far side of the inn. The three immediately fell into conversation.
Though Kaylie tried to observe them surreptitiously, she couldn’t get a good look at them. Remembering what she had done in the courtyard earlier in the day, Kaylie took hold of the Talent – something that was becoming easier and easier for her to do the more she tried it – and directed it at the three men.
“It will be done within the week,” said the curly haired assassin, bent over the table so no one sitting nearby heard their whispers.
“How do you plan to do it?” asked the shorter man sitting at the table.
His companion looked to be much taller than he, but Kaylie could not see past the dark cloak that hid his body and face.
“That doesn’t matter,” replied the assassin contemptuously. “He’ll be dead within the week and the Kingdom will be yours. That’s all you need to care about. Understood?”
“But—”
The assassin cut off the shorter man’s protest. “You have learned all you need to know. I have succeeded in this business for quite some time, as I’m sure you’re aware. The reason for my success is that I tell the people I work for only what they need to know. I do not work for people who can’t understand that restriction. Do I make myself clear?”
The taller of the two men simply sat there, seemingly uninterested in the discussion. The smaller man at first seemed to be insulted by the assassin’s words, then nodded reluctantly.
“Yes,” the shorter man replied sullenly.
“Good. Do you have the rest of my payment?”
The shorter man nodded again. “Here it is.”
The assassin snatched it from him.
“Good. Within the week. Do not try to contact me again. If you do, I will have a second assassination to undertake this week. Do I make myself clear?”
The shorter man’s face, though turned from Kaylie’s prying eyes, appeared to change to a lighter shade.
“Yes. Within the week.”
The assassin immediately rose and strode out of the inn. Kaylie considered following him, but decided against it. There was something about the man that frightened her. Besides, she had memorized his appearance. What she didn’t know was what his two accomplices looked like. But Kaylie remained glued to her chair for a different reason.
Who would get the kingdom upon her father’s murder? That was the question she needed to answer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rescue
Kaylie was still debating how to get closer to the two conspirators when they both got up from their table and headed for the door. Without thinking, she counted to five after they had exited and then followed. A small voice in the back of her head warned her that what she was doing was extremely dangerous. But the louder voice, which wanted to know who was trying to kill her father, drowned it out.
Stepping out into the night, she looked both ways down the street for the two men. Where could they be? They couldn’t have disappeared so quickly. There! The bright moonlight not only reflected off the water of the bay, but off the bald head of the tall conspirator, something she didn’t know while in the inn because he had kept the cowl of his cloak resting on the back of his scalp. The smaller of the two was talking animatedly, but the tall, bald man appeared to ignore him.
Kaylie counted five more seconds then started after them. The two men continued down the street for some time, which made Kaylie’s task quite simple, especially because of the large number of people moving to and from the various bars and inns lining the road. And with the men of the City Watch appearing on every corner, she felt quite comfortable in her task. But then her prey turned off the main thoroughfare and began making their way through some of the back streets and alleys – places the City Watch rarely visited because most of Ballinasloe’s citizens knew to stay away from them at night.
Despite her misgivings, Kaylie pushed on. She had little choice now but to follow more closely, otherwise she’d lose them going around a corner if she wasn’t fast enough. Her strategy worked well for several minutes as she deftly stayed in the shadows. Yet the small voice in her head grew more insistent, warning her of danger. She ignored it, too focused on her task to pay any heed.
The two men turned right at the end of the alley and Kaylie hurried after, fearing she would lose them. Rounding the corner, she felt a rough hand take hold of her arm in a viselike grip, stopping her in her tracks. The sudden bulge of fear in her throat kept her from screaming.
“So what do we have here?”
Kaylie looked up at the two large men standing above her. The one holding her arm had asked the question. His grin showed several missing teeth.
“A spy I think,” said the other hulking man. Just as tall as his friend, where the first had broad shoulders that belied his likely past as a brawler, the other carried most of his weight around his waist.
“Let me go!” demanded Kaylie. “You have no right to stop me. If you don’t release me, I’ll call for the City Watch.”
Both men laughed at her threat, quite taken with the humor
of it.
“Sorry girl,” said the man whose belly threatened to explode out of his shirt. “The City Watch doesn’t visit these streets very much. Scream all you want.”
“What should we do with her, Lester?” asked the other bruiser. “Our boss won’t like the idea of someone following him.”
“Well, he didn’t leave specific instructions, did he, Natul? He simply said to stop anyone who tried to follow after.”
“We could throw her into the bay, perhaps? Tie a rock around her ankles?”
The one named Natul smiled gleefully at his idea, obviously quite pleased with it. Kaylie felt as if she were watching the whole exchange between the two brawlers from someone else’s body. She couldn’t believe they were talking so casually about murder. Try as she might, she couldn’t break free of Natul’s grip.
“Slitting her throat now would be the easiest thing,” offered Lester, thinking deeply on the subject.
His employer really should have been more specific, he decided. He wasn’t paid to think. He was paid to follow orders. Thinking made his head hurt.
Events were quickly getting out of hand, Kaylie decided. She reached for the dagger hidden in her belt, but before she could get it all the way out of the sheath, Natul’s large palm engulfed her hand. He then pried the dagger from her fingers with relative ease.
“A feisty one.”
“She is, Lester,” said Natul. “She is indeed.”
“You know, I like ’em feisty.”
“Then perhaps we should teach her a lesson before we kill her,” suggested Natul.
“Yes, a lesson,” sneered Lester. “That’s a good idea, Natul.”
Kaylie shivered with fear. How could she have been so stupid? She should have guessed that whoever was trying to kill her father would take the necessary precautions to cover his tracks and ensure his identity remained a secret. She had been so focused on her task that she had ignored the warnings in her head.