by Max Irons
“You have passage booked already?” he asked.
“Aye.” Arlana wouldn’t be happy about additions to the retinue, but she’d get over it. Maybe.
“Then it’s time to plan some treason, wouldn’t you say?” Rand turned around and walked toward the door of the foundry.
Galeron blinked. “I never—”
“You didn’t have to. Any man who takes my daughter from me loses the right to command me.” Rand tossed his smock into a corner. “Night comes swiftly.”
Galeron followed him out of the foundry and back into the main floor of the shop. “We have to be careful. None of this can lead back to you.”
Corinna looked up from her bookkeeping at the front counter. She squinted at Galeron with one eyebrow raised, a gesture that looked far too much like Lonni’s for comfort. “What’s this?”
Galeron glanced from her to Rand. Should they tell her?
“Lonni will be free tonight,” Rand said. “We’re going to make sure of it.”
Corinna blinked, then she got up and locked the front door, closing the store’s shutters while she moved about the front. “What madness has possessed you, Rand Tomkin?”
Galeron frowned. That hadn’t been the reaction he expected. Wasn’t this the woman who’d been ready to storm the baron’s keep and get Lonni back by force?
Rand apparently sensed the same thing. “Weren’t you of the same mind not long ago?”
Corinna folded her arms under her breasts and sniffed. “Yes, in the heat of the moment, but surely you see we need to go through proper channels first. We can’t just raise arms against our king. Look what happened to the Drakes.”
Galeron traced a pattern in the floor with the toe of his boot. Strictly speaking, that had been him and Iven, not Soren. The Drakes had, in fact, been hiding under the Broton navy’s nose. It wasn’t a good example of Soren’s efficiency, but she got the point across anyway. Couldn’t blame her, really.
“Channels, proper or otherwise, won’t make a difference,” Galeron said. “Soren won’t ever give her up.”
“You know the mind of the king?” asked Corinna sharply.
Well, his sister does. “Not so much, no, but I have good information,” he said.
“You would condemn my little girl to the life of a fugitive?” Corinna shook her head. “A permanent home may mean little to you and Iven, but Lonni has always had a place to lay her head and food in her belly. If she stays with Soren, at least she will live.”
“What kind of life will that be?” asked Rand. “We won’t see her again, Corinna. The king will keep her locked away in Harracourt, and she will be as good as dead in our lives.”
“We should let her run off with a couple of sell-swords?” she asked. “How is that any better?”
“Lonni is a grown woman, and she deserves to have a real life, not one of slavery,” Rand said. “Once the king has given up searching for her, perhaps she can return.”
Corinna put her face in one hand. “I just…” Her voice trailed away, and she abruptly headed for the stairs to the upper living quarters.
Galeron watched her go. “She didn’t take that well.”
“It may take time for her,” Rand said. “Corinna loves order and structure. The current situation is anything but.”
There was an understatement.
“Where is Iven?” asked Rand. “Shouldn’t he be working with us?”
Galeron pointed his thumb toward the lean-to. “Sleeping off some bad news.” Should he tell Rand about Iven’s nobility? It might help ease Corinna’s mind somewhat, but it wasn’t his secret to tell. “He got word of a death in his family.”
Rand grunted and sat on a stool behind the counter. “I’m sorry to hear of it.”
“He’ll be along to work tonight,” Galeron said.
“For Iven to play his part, I must play mine,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
Galeron leaned an elbow on the counter top and closed one eye. He’d done this before, setting ambushes in mountain passes rather than city streets, but it was similar. “Some of it might be a bit messy, but I thought we might try this…”
For the next several hours, he and Rand bounced ideas off walls and each other, each suggestion more and more implausible than the last. Rand immediately dismissed Iven’s suggestion of scaling the keep, and Galeron waved off the plan to sneak in dressed as city watchmen. Getting the watchwords would be next to impossible on such short notice.
As the sun dipped low in the sky, Rand threw up his hands. “I’m not sure it can be done.”
Galeron nodded and slid off the counter, where he’d been sitting for the last hour. “You might be right.”
“Could we just ambush them in a side street?” he asked.
“I suppose.” Galeron ran a hand through his hair. Very messy and very loud. “I don’t really want to do it that way, but…”
“Aye.” Rand nodded and rubbed his forehead.
Someone rapped on the door.
“We’re closed,” Rand called.
“I’m no customer.”
Galeron froze at the sultry voice. What was she doing here? Had she come to collect him anyway?
“Then what do you want?” asked Rand.
Low laughter. “Galeron, you haven’t told him I might be calling? Let’s discuss this indoors like civilized folk, shall we?”
A deep growl escaped Galeron’s chest, but he started for the door.
“Who is that woman?” asked Rand.
“Trouble on pretty legs,” said Galeron. He unlatched the door and opened it.
Arlana glided into the shop, and Galeron closed the door behind her. Rand’s eyes bulged. He didn’t so much stare as drink in Arlana’s visage. She cocked her hips to one side and stuck a leg out ever so slightly, a wry smile twisting her mouth.
Galeron sighed. Right. She had that effect on men. It waned after a while, but for the unsuspecting, her looks obliterated thought for a bit.
Rand shook his head and blinked, but couldn’t seem to find words.
Arlana chuckled and turned to Galeron. “Let’s go release your lady love, shall we?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Galeron coughed. Had she really just said that? “Come again?”
“You want Lonni freed, and I want you with me in Keenan Caffar,” she said. “Besides, I think she could be useful. The Deathstalker and an inventive firespeaker at my side. Call it deterrence.”
“Isn’t that a bit much?” asked Galeron.
Arlana shrugged. “Hundreds of mages in Aleor against you two? I’d call that being lightly armed.”
Reasonable, but that still didn’t answer all of the problems she’d brought up. “How are we doing this without getting Soren involved?”
She smiled. “Oh, I’m certain that my dear brother will hear about Lonni’s unfortunate illness, and I have no doubt the king’s guard can be encouraged to enjoy a holiday for a few months. Especially if that encouragement comes clinking out of a royal palm.”
Galeron’s eyes narrowed. It all added up, but that twisting snake in his gut wouldn’t go away. There was always another angle. “The only catch is going to Raya?”
“Galeron…who is this?” Rand managed to choke out the words, though he still couldn’t tear his eyes from Arlana.
Galeron gestured to the princess. “Rand, meet Princess Arlana, my liege from the Delktian Wars.”
Rand spluttered and sank into a deep bow. “My lady. Forgive me for my discourtesy.”
“Rise, master firespeaker,” Arlana said, glancing towards the ceiling. “If I wanted my presence known, I’d have come with guards and fanfare.”
Rand straightened. “Of course, my lady.”
“Ready, Galeron?” she asked.
Galeron turned to Rand. “Would you mind waking Iven and getting Lonni’s things together? There’s always the possibility this could go bad.”
Arlana gave him a wan look. “Still don’t trust me, do you?”
&nbs
p; His eye twitched. “I only trust one person.”
She stroked a long finger down her jawline and neck. “But he doesn’t have my looks.”
He bit his tongue. Get used to it. You signed up for this. What he wouldn’t do to pay off a debt.
Rand walked out to the lean-to, and Arlana arched an eyebrow. “Waiting for something?”
Galeron shook his head, and they left the shop. He fell into step with Arlana, off to her left and slightly behind. His hands itched in the leather half-gloves. Those burns were taking their time healing. He pushed aside the urge to scratch and kept his gaze straight ahead, footsteps on the stiff side.
“Relax, Galeron,” Arlana said. “What are you worried about?”
“Something’s going to go wrong,” he said.
“Mmm, better regain that nerve before we get to Raya,” she said. “Court isn’t kind to those wearing emotions on their sleeves.”
His face soured. His anxiety had nothing to do with nerve and everything to do with the woman walking beside him. She knew it, too. “What’s your game?”
Arlana said nothing for a moment. “You assume I have a game.”
“When hasn’t there been one?” he grunted.
“Someone’s deceiving me,” Arlana said. “The details in my missives have too much story for this kind of scandal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Letters are a peek into the past. The accusations are too well-considered for a document written a mere day after the murders.” Arlana pursed her lips. “Something else is at work.”
Galeron sighed. “If you found two people in the bedchambers like that, what would you assume?”
“Oh, I’m not saying Princess Carys and Fletcher weren’t wrestling beneath the sheets,” said Arlana. “I’m speaking of the rest of the tale. Unless he’d become sloppier than a trainee, it should have taken Rayan authorities at least a few more days to find any proof of…other activities.”
A fair point. Now that he thought about it, the chain of events couldn’t have moved that fast. The jump between Fletcher’s affair and Fletcher’s spying was an enormous chasm. Even still, once Rayan officials considered the possibility, documents would have to be seized and sorted, and then they’d have to break Broton message codes. Even with mages, there was no way to do all of that in a few hours.
Not unless they already suspected Fletcher anyway.
“Could they have known beforehand?” asked Galeron.
Arlana shook her head. “I received reports a scant three days before learning of his death. He made no mention of such suspicions.”
“He didn’t mention his meetings with Princess Carys, either,” Galeron said.
She sniffed. “Of course he did. That was part of the assignment.”
Galeron’s scowl deepened. “You sent him to break a woman’s heart?”
“Collect information,” Arlana said. “In the easiest way possible. I left it up to him to determine how.”
“This is why I quit,” Galeron said. He lowered his voice. “The Rayans are allies. Why was he down there anyway?”
She gave a deep throaty chuckle. “What are alliances but ink on parchment? Easily broken and subject to political gales. Magic winds I have no time for.”
“You don’t trust mages any more than Soren,” he growled.
“A mage is just a man with more power. It’s their leadership in Aleor I don’t trust. They have their own goals, and those don’t always match Raya’s.”
Galeron’s mind flashed to a shattered marble building and the knowledge a teacher had shared. Arlana was more right than she knew. Every man possessed the capability for magic, though most folk disputed that or denied it altogether. He shuddered and pushed the memory away.
They arrived at the baron’s keep, the royal guards falling to one knee as Arlana passed by.
“Princess, we did not expect you,” said the grumpy sergeant from earlier.
“I come and go as I please,” she said.
One soldier opened the door to the keep, and Galeron followed her inside, as simple as going to a tavern. Royalty opened a lot of closed doors. Arlana ignored the antechamber and entrance to Baron Heuse’s small meeting hall in front of them, instead veering to the right and climbing a staircase. Galeron adjusted the blade on his belt and ascended as well.
His boots thudded on the dull stone, a stark contrast to Arlana’s silent footfalls.
“You’re going to need new boots,” she said.
Galeron’s face soured. “I’m made of coin.”
“We can take care of it, but you won’t sneak up on anyone in those.”
Never really had to. “As you say.”
They reached a landing, and Arlana stopped outside a solid oak door. The guard sank to one knee.
“They are dining presently, my lady,” he said.
“I’m sure the baron won’t mind a brief interruption,” said Arlana.
The guard nodded, rose, and opened the door. Galeron and Arlana walked into Baron Heuse’s dining hall. A modest affair, the room might have been big enough for ten men to stand abreast. A long trestle table sat in the middle of the room on a rug of deep ruby weaving. Servants dressed in the baron’s colors bustled about, switching platters and refilling pewter goblets. A double-layered candle chandelier hung over their heads, casting flickering shadows on the food and occupants.
Roasted duck with a hint of rosewater, wafted from the table. Galeron clenched his mouth shut as his belly grumbled. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Thinking with his stomach always got him in trouble. He pointedly stared at the occupants of the table, ignoring the food spread out before them. Now was not the time to get distracted.
A woman a few melon tarts short of plump sat at the baron’s right hand, her goblet frozen halfway to her mouth. Several elderly men, clad in doublets of the household colors, sat on the bench to Heuse’s left. Lonni sat on the baroness’s left, her eyebrows twisted into a knot as she stared at him, mouth slightly open.
Baron Heuse stood sharply and smashed his knee into the table’s underside. He winced and bowed low, the rest of the occupants, Lonni included, following his example. “Princess Arlana. This is…an unexpected honor.”
Arlana inclined her head. “Baron, I hope you don’t mind the interruption, but I happened to be passing through.” A half-smile crossed her face.
“You are always welcome in Azura,” said the baron.
“Mmm, I thought as much,” she said. “I would impose on you for dinner, if it’s all the same.”
“O-of course.” The baron’s eyebrows jumped on his slender face. “Your pardon, for we aren’t set up to receive royal guests.”
Arlana chuckled. “My presence is as known as I want it to be.”
Heuse slid down next to his wife, leaving the head of the table open. He snapped his fingers and gestured to one of the servants. “Bring extra plates for her highness and her guard.”
Arlana patted Galeron on the shoulder. He bolted his limbs down, refusing to jump or react. What was she doing?”
“I think I’m safe enough in the baron’s presence,” she said. “Why don’t you entertain the young lady?” She gave him a knowing wink. “She looks lonely.”
Lonni’s gaze could have ignited night dust. Galeron’s cheeks flushed, and he stifled a scowl. She didn’t understand. She didn’t know how Arlana worked. He could explain it. Lonni was a reasonable person…who may or may not have been grinding her teeth at him.
“As you wish,” he said to Arlana.
He approached the seat next to Lonni with all the fluidity of an ox. Galeron sat on the bench, leaving a decent amount of room between them. Arlana glided behind him, all grace and swaying limbs, and landed at the head of the table, where she immediately began conversing with Heuse in lower tones.
“What are you doing?” hissed Lonni through her teeth.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Galeron said.
“How much did you pay for that tr
amp?” she asked. “Or is she one of Iven’s women?”
Galeron blinked. Did Lonni really think…actually, that made a lot of sense. People saw what they expected to. Arlana’s dress and mannerisms would make her indistinguishable from a typical courtesan. Only those who actually recognized her on sight, like the king’s guard and the baron himself, would know otherwise.
“That really is Princess Arlana,” Galeron said.
“And she just happened to be in Azura?” asked Lonni. “She just happened to owe you a favor?”
Galeron scowled. “Yes, and no. She’s the way I’m keeping you out of a lifetime at Harracourt. It’s…well, it’s complicated.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I told you, I don’t need rescuing.”
Women. “It’s not a rescue,” he said. “I owed you, and if this works, we’re even.”
A plate of duck, turnips, and mustard greens dropped in front of him, accompanied by a two-pronged fork and a goblet of spiced wine. He cast a disparaging look at the wine but said nothing.
“You are a fool,” Lonni grumbled.
Galeron bit back a scream of frustration. Why was she so opposed to help? “Would you prefer I left you to rot in some northern workshop?”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said, taking a drink from her own goblet. “You’ve worked for me over a month with no pay.”
“That’s not how I see it.”
He took a bite of the duck. Perfection. Savory, juicy, with a nice bit of salt that remained afterward, driving a man to take the next bite.
Swallowing, he said, “Besides, either I did this, or Corinna would have marched down here and blown a hole in the keep.”
That dragged a smile across her face. “She would, wouldn’t she?”
“She closed the shop and grabbed a firelock when I told her about you. Lucky Rand managed to talk her down.”
Lonni nodded, and then her shoulders sagged. “What’s the price?”
Galeron swallowed another piece of duck. “What price?”
Her eyes flicked to Arlana. “She’s nobility. They don’t do anything without compensation.”
Right. That. Should he tell her now or later? He kicked the idea around in his head for a moment. Telling her later would let him do it under better circumstances than at the baron’s dinner table, but, given where they were, now also might temper her reaction. Lonni wouldn’t get completely angry with him here. Somewhere more discrete, and at a later point, perhaps, but not here.