“I knew it!” he cried. “I knew they hadn’t gotten to you. You’re too good a fighter, thanks to Master Oreius. Assassins wouldn’t stand a chance!”
Relam looked over Cevet’s shoulder at Oreius. The old warrior rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb towards the empty living room.
“We might as well all sit down,” he said. “Narin, put some coffee or tea on, will you? I could use a hot drink.”
“Narin!” Cevet released Relam and stepped back, looking around wildly. Then, he spotted Narin, hovering on the back porch uncertainly. The lordling shook his head slowly. “I never really believed that Relam had you killed,” he said somberly. “But I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“That’s what made it such a good hiding place,” Narin countered. “Nobody expected to find me here.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re alive,” Cevet muttered. “You always struck me as a good person. And we need those right now, as many as we can get.”
“Hold on,” Oreius growled. “We’ll talk in a moment. First, a drink. I’m not properly awake yet.”
“You’ve been up since midnight!” Relam protested.
“And I’m half asleep now,” Oreius replied, stumping into the kitchen and filling a battered coffeepot with water. “Narin, grind some beans for me, will you?”
“I’m not your servant old man,” Narin grumbled. But he followed Oreius into the kitchen and began rummaging in the pantry.
“We may as well help them,” Relam said to Cevet, stifling a yawn. “We’ll get to your urgent news faster that way.”
Cevet hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “All right,” he conceded. “But I really think we should talk first.”
“If we talk now, nobody except you will remember half of what you said,” Relam said gently. “We’ve been trying to figure out what to do about - er, something - all night.”
“Shall we have something to eat, too?” Narin called from the kitchen. “I’ve got some sausages here and I could make some toast. Oh, bacon!”
“Get out of there you pilfering bandit!” Oreius roared. “And where are those coffee beans?”
Thirty minutes later, Relam, Oreius, Narin, and Cevet finally sat down to an extensive breakfast of sausage, toast, flat cakes, bacon, eggs, potatoes and more. The coffeepot sat in a place of honor at the center, and each of the diners had a bracing mug of the strong drink close to hand.
“Much better,” Oreius muttered as he crammed food into his mouth. “Now, young Cevet, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm. Thought so.” Oreius speared several small cubes of potato with his fork and shook the loaded implement at the lordling. “So, what’s your big news?” he asked finally. “Something about the Citadel?”
“Yes,” Cevet said, shoving his plate to one side. He had hardly eaten anything. The young warrior leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Relam stopped chewing and watched his friend worriedly.
Finally, Cevet raised his eyes and met the gaze of each of the others in turn, ending on Relam. “I just came from the Citadel,” he repeated. “Because I believe that Master Bene D’Arnlo is planning to betray the kingdom, and that he is behind the attacks on the royal family.”
If he hoped to surprise the others with this news, he was sorely disappointed. Relam, Oreius, and Narin all nodded gravely and continued eating, though each felt a surge of triumph as they heard Cevet’s words.
“We reached the same conclusion earlier this morning,” Relam said finally. “I hope your evidence adds to ours so that we can do something about it.”
“There’s more,” Cevet said, looking down at the floor. “D’Arnlo did not act alone.”
“Eckle was involved too?” Narin asked. “I knew it!”
“I don’t know about Eckle,” Cevet said, shaking his head. He looked up at Relam, tears in his eyes. “But I know that my father was involved, and he is personally responsible for the death of the queen. I am so, very sorry.”
Chapter 40
For a moment, Relam was stunned speechless. Then, slowly, he set his fork and knife down and swallowed. Somehow, he was no longer hungry for more.
“Go on,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on Cevet. “Tell us everything. Start from the beginning.”
Cevet looked around at the three carefully neutral yet intense faces staring back at him, and swallowed nervously. Then, he began his tale.
As Cevet laid a hand on the front door of his home, he heard someone approaching behind him. Surprised, the young warrior turned around and saw his father walking briskly towards him.
“Headed to training?” Lord Thius asked.
Cevet nodded. “Yes. Master D’Arnlo wants to start us on practice bouts again, see how much we’ve learned in the past few months.”
“Mind if I tag along?” his father asked, smiling slightly.
Cevet frowned. He could see no reason why his father shouldn’t come with him. But he couldn’t see any reason why he would want to either. “Don’t you have business to attend to with the Assembly?” he asked.
“Well, yes, but that isn’t until later,” Lord Thius replied. “That’s what the messenger this morning was about.”
Cevet nodded, remembering. The messenger had arrived in the early hours of the morning, well before dawn, and hammered on the front door to wake his father. “It must have been an important meeting if the messenger wanted to let you know about it that badly.”
“It is,” his father said gravely. Then, he brightened abruptly. “But it got pushed back, as I said. So, can I come along?” Cevet’s father smiled, a rather strained smile, Cevet noticed. Looking closer, Cevet realized that his father’s shirt, normally free of wrinkles, was crumpled in multiple places and his hair was sticking out in some places.
“Are you all right, father?” Cevet asked uncertainly. “You seem . . . frazzled.”
“Frazzled? Not at all,” Lord Thius replied, edging past Cevet and ushering him through the front door. “It’s just a busy time of year is all.”
Cevet wasn’t entirely convinced, but he followed his father out the door and down the River Road, towards the Citadel, enjoying the silence of the early morning. The sun wasn’t even properly up yet, just a vague hint of dawn to the east.
“A terrible business,” his father said quietly, interrupting the silence. “The king passing yesterday, the prince gone this morning.”
“What?” Cevet demanded, stopping in the middle of the road and turning to look at his father.
“Did I not tell you?” Lord Thius asked, surprised. “That’s why my meeting was pushed back. So that a full search of the city could be done for young Relam. He vanished in the night and his room was found in flames. The whole royal suite was gone before the fire was tamped down, and the roof caved in and crushed three guardsmen.
Cevet shook his head in disbelief. “The line of kings is broken?” he asked, stunned.
“Possibly,” his father replied grimly. “It appears that Relam either fled, or was captured. He could have been killed by the fire, I suppose, but there is no sign of a body yet. Or at least, not last I heard. You were good friends with him, were you not, son?”
“Yes,” Cevet said sadly, nodding. He couldn’t believe Relam dead. Captured, maybe. But not dead. The prince –soon to be king - had been an excellent fighter. Cevet would not have wanted to try kidnapping or killing him, especially not in the midst of a raging inferno.
“He was a good friend,” Cevet said quietly. “I learned a lot from him.”
“In training?”
“And beyond,” Cevet said, nodding. “Did I tell you, he ended the rivalry with Garenes and the others a few weeks back? Brought all of us together for the first time.”
“Really?” his father asked, frowning.
“Yes,” Cevet continued. “He said he held no grudges, that we needed to stick together, not tear each other to pieces all the time. He even got Master Agath to forgive Garenes for his foo
lhardy actions during the trials.”
“Did he?” Lord Thius murmured, brow furrowed. “That’s interesting.”
Cevet nodded. “He would have been a good king. Still might be, I suppose, if we can find him.”
“We’ll be doing our best,” his father assured him. “I believe a city-wide search is already underway and everything is locked down.”
They walked in silence the rest of the way, arriving at the Citadel shortly. The guards hardly glanced at them, heaving the doors open and letting them in. Cevet was a regular, one of D’Arnlo’s students and his father was the greatest of the minor lords. There was no reason to delay them.
As they passed through the gate, Lord Thius pulled one of the guards to the side. “Do you know where D’Arnlo is?” he asked quietly.
“In his office, probably, preparing for training,” the guard said, nodding to Cevet. “Does that sound right to you, sir?”
“Seems reasonable,” Cevet agreed.
“We’ll look there first,” his father said, smiling. “Thank you, soldier.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
As they moved deeper into the Citadel, Cevet leaned towards his father. “What do you want to see Master D’Arnlo for?” he murmured.
“There are some things we need to discuss,” his father said evasively, looking around and straightening his robes and stoles. “Urgent business.”
“He won’t like you delaying training,” Cevet warned.
“He’ll understand, trust me,” Lord Thius replied breezily, starting up the stairs that led to D’Arnlo’s study. “Now, come along, quickly.”
Cevet followed his father up the stairs, wondering what this was all about. They passed the exit onto the third level courtyard, where soldiers were drilling under the watchful eyes of their sergeants. Cevet watched for a moment, lingering in the stairwell. What it must be like to be a professional soldier, a Citadel guard! There was no more honorable posting for a warrior, no more prestigious assignment.
“Cevet! Come along,” his father urged. “Don’t want to delay D’Arnlo any long than I have to.”
Cevet followed obediently, though their rapid ascent was beginning to wind him a little. The stairs were steep, meant to be climbed by athletic, strong men who spent every day in physical training. In short, meant for warriors. Not for slightly undersized sons of minor lords, skilled as Cevet might be.
Finally, they reached the top of the central tower, emerging into the wide hallway that circled the top level. The view was spectacular, even with the dreary season. Cevet walked to the nearest window and gazed south over the harbor, marveling at the frosted ships and the glittering, ice-covered harbor mole. His father, meanwhile, went straight to D’Arnlo’s door and rapped peremptorily.
The door was answered by a Citadel guard in burnished armor, who looked Lord Thius up and down disinterestedly. “Can I help you?” he asked after a moment.
“I’m here to speak with Master D’Arnlo,” Cevet’s father said grimly.
“He is busy preparing for morning training,” the guard informed him. “If you would care to wait until later, you may, or I can take a message-”
“Like hell you can,” Lord Thius growled, shoving past the Citadel guard and into the room. The guard chased after him and the door slammed, leaving Cevet alone in the corridor.
The young warrior blinked, surprised. He had never seen his father lose his composure so easily. Something must really be wrong for him to be in such a state. Was it the disappearance of Relam? Cevet tried to remember if his father had ever been particularly fond of the prince. But no such recollection came to mind. Curiously, Cevet moved to the heavy wooden door and put his ear against it, listening.
“Really, Ryker, I don’t see what the problem is,” he heard D’Arnlo snarl. “Now, out of my way. I have students to train and you are delaying me.”
“No,” Cevet heard his father reply. “I want answers. Were you involved with what happened last night?”
Cevet gasped, and pressed his ear closer to the door. What was happening?
“Perhaps,” D’Arnlo said in his oily smooth voice. “Why? Are events moving too fast for you to keep up?”
“A blatant attack like that looks immensely suspicious,” Lord Thius said quietly.
“Ah, but it gives us the opportunity we have been waiting for,” D’Arnlo countered. “The royal family gone, and a search must be organized. The military is best suited to step in and take control, don’t you think?”
“Seizing power now would look extremely suspicious. You can’t possibly-”
“Are you trying to back out, Ryker?”
“Well, no, but-”
“How fortunate. Because if you were, I would have to do the same thing to you that I did to the assassin I sent last night. The one who failed me.”
“Failed you? Does that mean the prince is on the loose?” Lord Thius asked, his voice hoarse.
“Perhaps.”
“This is a disaster. With him on the loose and not imprisoned he could reappear at any moment, expose us, and take the throne back. We need to back off, immediately, scrap the plan and wait for another opportunity.
“You fool, this is our opportunity.”
“How dare you speak to me that way,” Thius snarled. Cevet privately agreed, though he was too stunned by the implications of the conversation he was overhearing.
“Why shouldn’t I? You have been nothing but trouble, overcautious, timid, always second guessing my master plan to take the throne. And you tried to bring the Council into this despite my misgivings!”
“They preferred a more . . . peaceful resolution. I went along with their plan to send the king demands because I never expected him to do anything about them. If the demands had not been met, they would have joined us in a heartbeat.”
“It appears to me that you misjudged them badly.”
“Perhaps. In hindsight, it was a mistake to involve any of them. But at the time it seemed a good risk to take. Had we succeeded-”
“I’m beginning to wonder, Ryker, if it was a mistake to bring you into this,” D’Arnlo spat. “Your gambit with the bandits was pitiful.”
“It was working! Their continued operation was making the arm of the law look weak!”
“Weak enough that an untrained boy could lead a force of cavalry to wipe them out. You’re lucky he did not bother trying to trace the source of their wealth.”
“Well, maybe, but-”
“Maybe?” D’Arnlo sneered. “Maybe what little success you have had is luck. Maybe you really are a useless bureaucrat. Maybe, if you do not start performing better, you will meet the same fate as the others that have failed me.”
“Like the assassins who still languish in your care? That may know enough to expose us?”
“I can’t get rid of them. Do you know how suspicious that would look? Remember, nobody escapes the Citadel. Sometimes there are disadvantages to running the most impregnable fortress in the world.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Lord Thius muttered.
“The difference is, I have upheld my end of the bargain. The assassins have not talked. You on the other hand have repeatedly jeopardized everything. I don’t know why I ever thought I needed an ally, much less one like you.”
“You need my support to legitimize your rule!”
“I need support, yes, but I don’t need you. You can legitimize anything with enough soldiers, and I have a great many. Besides, there are others who will flock to my banner, once I step into the spotlight. You did have your uses though. Slipping poison into the stew that your wife delivered was a master stroke, I will admit. As far as I know, your family was never suspected of treachery.”
Cevet sagged against the door, jaw hanging open in shock. Stew? Were they discussing the death of Relam’s mother, the queen? His father had played a part in that?
“It was a risk,” Lord Thius growled. “But one you forced me to take.”
“And I will force you to take this
one as well. Now, listen carefully. I am locking down the city. You will meet with the Assembly later today. You will propose granting me temporary control of the capital until the prince is found. During that time, I will act as a benevolent ruler, always searching for our prince and serving the kingdom. When the allotted search time is up, you will propose to the Assembly that I be crowned king. By the time that happens, I will quietly have replaced key officers in the city guard with people loyal to me. I will have control of the city guard, the harbor watch, and the Citadel guard. That will be more than enough to discourage anyone from opposing me.”
“You mean us.”
“Of course,” D’Arnlo agreed smoothly. “Opposing us. You will have a position of immense power too, of course. I will need a right-hand advisor and, assuming you continue to play your part faithfully, that advisor could very well be you.”
There was a brief pause, then Cevet heard D’Arnlo’s voice again. “Do we have a deal, Lord Thius?”
Cevet backed away from the door, horrified. He had to find Relam, if he was still in the city, and warn him. Then, Cevet stopped. He would be betraying his own father if he alerted the prince or anyone that could stop D’Arnlo’s schemes.
The lordling thought for a long moment. His father was a traitor, and so was D’Arnlo. He had helped murder the queen, and possibly the king and Relam himself. If Cevet did not alert Relam, he could be considered equally guilty.
Then, Cevet thought of something else. Lord Thius was his father, yes, but he was not a very active father. He was always meeting with the Assembly, or the smaller Council, or some other nobles. Always working. Cevet only saw him at meals, and then infrequently. At formal events, he dragged Cevet back and forth, making connections for him and showing him off, never letting him just be himself. And he had used Cevet’s mother as an accessory to murder.
Then there was Relam. Relam was a friend, and a good friend, even if they had only been on the same side for a little over a year. What’s more, Cevet knew exactly what Relam would do if their situations were reversed.
“He would help,” Cevet said quietly. Then, his mind made up, the lordling turned and ran down the stairs. He didn’t know where Relam was hiding, if indeed he had fled, but he knew a good place to start looking.
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 48