Bonds of Vengeance: Book 3 of Winds of the Forelands (Winds of the Forelands Tetralogy)

by DAVID B. COE

  “Where is my wine?” he called again, his voice echoing in the corridor like thunder.

  A moment later a boy peered into the chamber like a frightened dog.

  “You have my wine?” the duke demanded.

  The boy nodded, stepping warily into the chamber. He carried a flagon and cup.

  “Quickly, boy!” he said, waving the servant forward.

  The boy set the cup on Aindreas’s table and began to pour. But the duke grabbed the flagon from his hand, spilling Sanbiri red on the table and floor.

  “Go get more,” the duke said. “I’ve a mighty thirst today.”

  The boy fled the chamber, eager to obey.

  The rest of that day and the entire night were lost to him in a fog of wine and grief and rage. It was only the following morning, when Aindreas awoke to a hard rain and keening winds, that he even remembered that the king’s men had come and had made camp outside the walls of his city. Dressing quickly, he left his bedchamber in search of Villyd, only to find that the swordmaster was waiting for him outside his presence chamber.

  “My lord,” the man said, bowing to him.

  “Swordmaster.” He opened the door to the chamber and entered, with Villyd close behind. Now that he had found the man, he was reluctant to reveal his concern for the king’s soldiers. Had Villyd had his way, the men would have been sheltered for the night. “I’ve been looking for you,” he finally said. “When I saw that it had been raining I . . .” He trailed off, glancing toward his writing table, hoping that perhaps there would still be wine there. He would have given his sword for a drink just then.

  “I had tarpaulin and poles taken to the men last night, my lord, as the storm moved in. I knew that you’d want them to be sheltered, even if they did come here as agents of the king.”

  Aindreas tried to keep himself from looking too relieved. “My thanks, swordmaster. As you say, we have no quarrel with these men, only with those who sent them.”

  “Quite so, my lord.” Villyd hesitated, eyeing the duke closely. “Shall I send for their captain, my lord? He awaits word from you.”

  “Not yet, Villyd. Later, when I’ve had a chance to consider what message I want to convey to the king.”

  The man pursed his lips briefly, then nodded, “Very well, my lord.” Still he lingered, seeming to muster the courage to say more.

  “Is there something else you wish to discuss, swordmaster?”

  “Forgive me for saying so, my lord, but I wonder if you’ve considered the consequences of further angering the king.”

  Aindreas glowered at the man. It was one thing for the duke to question his own judgment. It was quite another for one of his underlings to do so, even one as trusted and intelligent as Villyd. “To be honest with you, swordmaster, I haven’t given the matter any thought at all. I don’t give a damn if I anger the king, nor do I care if his men rot in their little camp outside my walls. Kearney offered protection to Tavis of Curgh when I was certain that the boy had killed my daughter, and he embraced Javan as his ally though Curgh and Kentigern were on the verge of war. He has shown no consideration whatsoever for the House of Kentigern. Why should I care a whit if I anger him?”

  Villyd stared at the floor, his color high. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me.”

  “Now get out.”

  Villyd started to leave, turned once as if to say more, then shook his head and walked out of the chamber.

  Aindreas didn’t see the swordmaster for the rest of the day. Twice guards came to his chamber, asking if the duke was ready to speak with Kearney’s man, and both times the duke sent them away, telling them that he would summon the captain when he was ready. The truth was, however, he feared this audience with the king’s soldier. The duke didn’t know what the man had been instructed to say to him, but he felt certain that the captain would expect Aindreas to reaffirm his loyalty to the realm or declare his intention to stand against the Crown. The duke wasn’t prepared to do either. He needed more time, but it seemed clear that neither the conspiracy nor the king was willing to give it to him.

  An hour or so after the ringing of the prior’s bells, as Andreas sipped from yet another cup of wine, someone knocked at his door again. Squeezing his eyes closed and rubbing them with his thumb and forefinger until they hurt, he called for whoever had come to enter.

  The door opened and a soldier stepped into the chamber.

  “My lord—”

  “No,” Andreas said angrily, “I’am not yet ready to speak with him.”

  “I’am sorry, my lord, but that’s not why I’ve disturbed you.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Then what do you want?”

  “There’s a Qirsi woman at the gate, my lord. She’s asking to speak with you.”

  Somehow Andreas was on his feet. “Which gate?”

  “My lord?”

  “From which gate did she come?”

  The man shook his head, a puzzled look on his blunt features. “She’s at the east castle gate, my lord.”

  “No, I mean the gate through which she entered the city.”

  “I believe it was the north gate, my lord.”

  Of course. That was the gate nearest the quays. The king’s men never would have seen her from their camp. He let out a breath, steadying himself with a hand on his table.

  “Shall I bring her to you, my lord?”

  This was’t a discussion he wished to have tonight either, but he could’t very well refuse her. It struck him as a measure of the Iris threat that he should fear this white-haired merchant so much more than he did his own king.

  “Yes. I’ll speak with her now.”

  The man bowed and withdrew. Aindreas drained his cup of wine, but when his servant lifted the flagon to pour more, the duke shook his head. “Leave me,” he told the boy. “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  The boy nodded and all but ran from the chamber. Aindreas stepped around his table and began to pace, wishing now that he had let the boy fill his cup before leaving. He was about to call the servant back when he heard a knock on the oaken door.

  “Enter!” he said, a flutter in his voice.

  The door swung opened, revealing Jastanne, slight and pale, like a candle flame, standing between two guards who towered over her.

  Aindreas eyed her for a moment, then nodded to the men. “We’ll speak alone,” he told them.

  Jastanne gave a wry grin and sauntered into the chamber, leaving it to the guards to close the door.

  “I thought you didn’t want to risk any more meetings,” Aindreas said, trying to keep his tone light. “Only written messages, you said.”

  “Yes, I remember.” She dropped herself into a chair. “But I thought a visit to your castle was warranted. The movement’s leaders wanted me to make certain that you appreciated fully the importance of our last message.” She opened her hands. “What better way to do so than to come here myself?”

  “I only received your message yesterday. That’s hardly time enough to give it the consideration it deserves.”

  “I realize that. But I also know that the king’s men arrived yesterday as well.” She tilted her head to the side. “Such a strange coincidence.” The woman continued to watch him, as if searching his face for some response. When he offered none, she gave a small shrug. “In any case, I didn’t want the arrival of Kearney’s men to serve as a distraction.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that she would know about the soldiers. No doubt the Qirsi had spies in every major city in the Forelands by now. But he found it disturbing nonetheless. Even had he been ready to make peace with the king and find a way to extricate himself from this alliance with the white-hairs, even had Ioanna allowed it, Jastanne and her underlings would have found a way to stop him.

  “It hasn’t distracted me at all,” he said sourly, “and it won’t. If you know they’re here, then you also know that I refused even to shelter them in the castle.”

  “I’d noticed that. Your treatment of these men has been
quite interesting, Lord Kentigern. You refuse to quarter them, but you offer them provisions and when the storms come, you give them material to build shelters. One might get the impression from all this that you’re of two minds about this king you claim to hate.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth. But I couldn’t merely send them away, not without provoking the king.”

  She raised an eyebrow, a cold smile on her lips. “You don’t seem to understand, Lord Kentigern. That’s precisely what we want you to do. I would have thought that my message had made that clear.”

  He stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time, his stomach turning to stone. “You knew they were coming,” he said hoarsely. “It was no coincidence at all that your message arrived just before they did. You were instructing me to turn them away.”

  “I prefer to think that we were offering you an opportunity to fulfill the oath you swore to us several turns ago. I must say that I’m disappointed you chose not to.”

  “You gave me no time.”

  “Nonsense! You’ve had since Qirsar’s turn.”

  Aindreas shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “I know it’s not. But you entered into our agreement thinking that you would use us as a weapon in your dispute with the king. You gave little thought to what we would ask of you, because you believed that our movement could be turned to your purposes. Only now, with the arrival of my message and this visit from the king’s men, do you begin to see how wrong you were. No doubt this is difficult for you, but to be honest, I don’t care. You’ve pledged yourself to our cause, and we expect you to honor that pledge. You wanted to strike at your king; now is the time.”

  The duke stood dumb, like a man who had just been cozened out of his wage by one of the tricksters who followed the Revel from city to city. He could think of no words with which to counter what she had said, because all of it was true. He had thought to use them only to find himself a tool in their hands.

  “I’ve yet to speak with the king’s captain,” he said at last, surrender in his voice. “Shall I send them away without granting him an audience?”

  “I’m not certain that’s enough anymore.”

  He swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  Before she could answer, there came yet another knock, this one loud and insistent. Aindreas’s eyes flew to the door, his chest tightening. “In a moment!” he called. He turned to the Qirsi woman and in a whisper said, “No one must see you here.”

  For a moment she stared at him, as if daring him to try to make her leave. After what seemed an eternity, with the pounding at his door resuming, she stood and walked to a second door, which led to the duke’s private antechamber. Only when she was hidden within the smaller chamber did Aindreas go to the first door and pull it open. As he had expected, Kearney’s captain was there, standing between two of the duke’s guards.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” said one of the guards. “We tried to stop him, but . . .” He shrugged sheepishly, leaving the rest unspoken. But he’s the king’s man.

  The duke resisted the impulse to point out that two of his guards should have been able to stop one man no matter whose colors he wore. Instead he motioned the captain into the chamber, glaring at the guards. “Return to your posts,” he said. “Make certain that none of the king’s other men find their way into my castle.”

  The soldier looked at the floor. “Yes, my lord.”

  Aindreas closed the door smartly and turned toward Kearney’s man.

  “You have no right entering my castle unbidden.”

  “On the contrary, my lord. I have every right. I was sent by the king himself, who is sovereign of all lands in the realm. I awaited word from you for as long as I felt I could, but I refuse to allow you to put me off for another day.”

  Any other day he might have argued with the man, but with Jastanne in the adjacent chamber he thought it better just to hear what the captain had to say and be done with it.

  “You bring word from the king,” he said, prompting the man.

  “I bring a warning, my lord. Your payments to the Crown are in arrears, you have yet to respond to the king’s message summoning you to the City of Kings, and the king knows that you speak openly of rebellion. The king has been tolerant of these lapses thus far, knowing how you and your family have suffered in the last year. But his patience wears thin. Soon he’ll have little choice but to send men to Kentigern in far greater numbers than he has this time.”

  Such arrogance! Aindreas wanted to slap the man, to watch the outline of his hand appear, livid and red on the captain’s cheek. He knew, however, that these were Kearney’s words, not the soldier’s, and he found his old hatred of the king returning. This was why he couldn’t accept Glyndwr as his ruler. This was why he had turned to the Qirsi.

  “And does your liege speak only of threats and war?” the duke asked, his voice like a drawn blade. “Does he offer no apology for the injustices heaped upon my house? Has it even occurred to him to hear our grievances?”

  “He will gladly hear your grievances, Lord Kentigern, just as he does those of all his loyal subjects. But you must first demonstrate your good faith by submitting to his authority and swearing an oath of fealty to the Crown.”

  Aindreas heard a light footfall behind him, his breath catching in his throat.

  “Splendid!” Jastanne said, clapping her hands with clear disdain as she stepped to the center of the chamber. “Do you hear how he speaks to you, Lord Kentigern? He speaks of submission to the king’s authority and oaths of fealty. But in return he offers only threats. How typical of you Eandi.”

  The captain’s hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. “Who is this woman, my lord?”

  “Don’t you see, Lord Kentigern?” she went on, ignoring the man. “Your loyalty is wasted on such a sovereign. You owe nothing to Kearney, because he offers nothing to you.”

  “What is this?” the man demanded, the expression on his face almost comical. “What is she talking about, my lord?”

  “I think you should go,” Aindreas said, not entirely certain to which of the two he was speaking.

  Jastanne smiled. “Now? When things are getting so interesting?”

  “My lord—”

  “This is my new first minister, Captain. And as you can see, she has little regard for what your king has to say. Frankly, I don’t either.”

  Jastanne gave a small laugh. “Your new first minister?”

  “I think you should leave,” Aindreas said again, clearly speaking to the soldier this time.

  The captain regarded them both in silence, shaking his head.

  Finally, he started toward the door. “Very well.”

  “No,” Jastanne said, stopping him. “This has gone on long enough.”

  “What?” the duke said, staring at her.

  But she was intent on the captain.

  It all happened so fast that Aindreas was helpless to do more than watch.

  The muffled crack, so much like the splintering of wood, was followed an instant later by a choked cry of pain as the soldier collapsed to the floor, grabbing at his leg. A random thought: she’s a shaper. Jastanne strode to where the man lay writhing, his face contorted with anguish. Candlelight glinted off something in her hand. A dagger; Aindreas hadn’t seen her pull it from her belt. The Qirsi grabbed Kearney’s man by the hair, lifting his head off the floor, dragging the edge of her blade across his throat. Blood pulsed from the gaping wound, a pool of red that spread across the chamber floor like fire across parchment.

  He gaped at her, his head spinning as if he were fevered. “Are you mad?” He dropped to his knees beside the man, but already he could see the life fading in the soldier’s dark eyes. There wasn’t even time to call for a healer.

  “No, Lord Kentigern. I’m merely doing what’s necessary, what you couldn’t bring yourself to do.”

  “Surely you didn’t expect me to do this!”

  “I expected you to honor your a
greement with us. Now you have no choice but to do so.”

  “You are mad.”

  She wiped her blade on her trousers and returned it to the sheath on her belt. “You’d best send Kearney’s other men back to the City of Kings, Lord Kentigern. And then I’d suggest that you prepare for war.” She glanced at the dead man one last time, then let herself out of the chamber.

  Aindreas should have gone after her. He should have killed her for what she had done, though he wasn’t certain how to go about killing a shaper. Instead, he just knelt there.

  And the king’s man stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Seven

  Duvenry, Wethyrn, Anton’s Moon waning

  Their ride from the City of Kings to Rennach took two days longer than Grinsa had told Keziah it would. Two days. And though the gleaner and Tavis quickly found a Wethy merchant who agreed to give them passage across the Gulf of Kreanna, they had to wait a full day before he and his crew were ready to set sail. The man’s price was reasonable, but they would be sailing to Duvenry rather than Helke, which would add more time to their travels. Still, Grinsa and Tavis were not in a position to be particular. Even the passage itself would have cost them a day had it not been for Grinsa’s magic. The weather was clear, the winds calm, as he had hoped they would be for Tavis’s sake. Indeed, the day proved so mild that the ship nearly was becalmed in the first hours of their journey.

  The captain, a dour, black-haired Eandi, with a barrel chest and thick forearms that were tanned and marked with pale scars, had his men lower the mainsail and go belowdecks to row. Grinsa thought about offering to raise a wind, but judging from the way the captain eyed him, he knew the man would refuse. He and Tavis had been fortunate just to gain passage—clearly this Eandi captain didn’t care for Qirsi. Still, their speed on oar was intolerably slow, and even with the waters of the gulf as tranquil as Grinsa had ever seen them, Tavis was leaning over the edge of the top deck, his face so ashen that his scars looked black.

  With nothing to lose and time to be gained, Grinsa stood beside the young lord, using his magic to raise a soft breeze. He did it so gradually, with so little visible effort, that neither the captain nor his crew seemed to suspect anything. He even went to far as to draw the wind from the southwest, so that they couldn’t steer a direct course to Duvenry, fearing that a more favorable wind might have raised the captain’s suspicions.