“No,” Tanellor rasped. “The queen. But she is dead already.”
“That is most unfortunate. Will you aid us, my lord?”
Shrugging his shoulders resignedly, Tanellor said, “Aye. I’ll see if there are any poor souls left in the dungeons to release.”
***
Ranell scoured the royal chambers, but there was no sign of Saurosen. He gritted his teeth.
“We’ve captured Xara, Saurosen’s old mother,” said Baron Laan at the doorway of the throne room.
“Where is she?”
“House arrest in the ranmeron apartments – under guard. She’s a bit of a harpy, but at present seems to be mourning the death of her grandson, Prince Haltese, and shows no concern for her son.”
“And her son?”
“He’s gone – with the Black Sword.”
“While he carries that weapon, he can command allegiance,” Ranell said. “How is the city?”
“Lornwater has fallen in most sectors. There are pockets of resistance, but nothing to worry about.”
“What of the fourth toumen, Baron?”
“They are sworn by an oath of allegiance to fight for the holder of the Black Sword. They continue to engage our troops outside the walls – and are instigators in those pockets of resistance.”
Ranell swore. “Even after all the bloodshed!”
“Thand’s toumen – and his followers in the populace – may have won the three cities, but Lornwater will be unstable until a king is crowned. The civil war is not ended.”
“Nemond Thand must locate Saurosen and obtain the sword. He cannot become king until he has accomplished that.”
***
Still wearing her blood-stained armour, her hair in disarray, Tantian stood outside the royal bedchamber, her dented helm under one arm. She clasped Baron Laan’s hand. “My lord.” Her eyes were mournful. “Yet again, my husband is not lucid.”
Licking his lips, Laan evaded her direct obsidian gaze. “If we are to prevent the spread of civil war throughout Floreskand, Nemond Thand must hunt Saurosen.”
“I know. I have already sent trackers ahead. When my husband is fit enough he will give chase.” Her round chin set firmly, she added, “Thand will bring Saurosen back to us for a reckoning. And he will be crowned. It is his destiny to be king.”
***
Baron Laan and two captains descended the steps into the dungeon. The smell was worse than the charnel-house they had left above. Slowly, they walked down the passages, over uneven mildewed flagstones, past empty dark cells rank with excrement. Rats, too many to contend with, scurried ahead or fought to get past them.
Finally, they arrived in a massive semi-circular room of hewn stone. Ten cells, and all of them occupied. “Release them all!” Laan ordered.
He watched as thin and careworn nobles emerged from their dark stinking cells. He recognised several, among them Ban-so, a rich slaver, Pelnoo, a financier, Qued, an ex-soldier and a recently elevated noble, and Xarop, the oldest. Qued was the most effusive in his thanks.
“Take them up to the royal baths!” he told a captain.
Then he and the remaining captain descended the stairs that led to the torture chamber.
Here, he stepped over the body of Che-man Car. He only found Aurelan Crossis, though more dead than alive. “Release him as well.”
The captain lifted Aurelan’s unconscious head, stared. “But, my lord, he’s the one who fought our men in Neran Square. For that alone, he should rot here.”
“No, Captain, you will do as I command and release him.” He clamped a hand on Aurelan’s shoulder. “He is a good man, I will vouch for him. Lord Tanellor told me he helped the injured in the Oxor mines.”
***
Fourth Sapin of Darous
Word spread rapidly. “We’ve caught the king! We’ve slain the king!”
“Can this be true?” Ranell asked, bemusedly stepping onto the main porch of the palace entrance. It overlooked the Madurava House and to the right Lord Tanellor’s abode.
“We’ll see soon enough,” Baron Laan said, pointing. “They’re coming in haste now!” He turned to General Luascar. “Bring Saurosen’s mother here – oh, and Lady Tantian.”
A short while later, Tantian approached them and leaned against a pillar, curious.
Then the general and one of his men escorted Nemond Xara to the side of Tantian. “What idignity do you inflict on an old woman, cowards?” she warbled from a narrow bloodless mouth. Abruptly, her parchment skin paled almost white as the overjoyed troops arrived in a flurry of dust. Two on horseback dragged a corpse behind them. They halted at the base of the steps, the horses restless. The dust- and blood-covered body rolled with the momentum and hit into the riser of the bottom step.
“The king is dead!” the milling populace roared.
There was no answering “Long live the new king” because Nemond Thand was not in evidence.
Now exceedingly distressed, Xara hobbled down the steps, aided by a Luascar soldier. Her long white hair trailed her back. Awkwardly, she lowered herself to her knees and leaned over the body. Then she turned to face the steps, her head shaking, her sagging jowls wobbling. “You’re all wrong!” She cackled loudly, her hooked nose twitching. “See,” she said, pointing at the corpse. “He doesn’t have the spider nevus on his left cheek!” She let out a triumphant laugh. “This poor wretch is a decoy!”
***
Oquar II forest
Saurosen kept the sword close, but that sound in the bushes had been nothing to worry about, probably a night-creature. Certainly not one of the fourth toumen, he knew, since they couldn’t be heard.
His wound pained him, despite the potions and ministration of Nostor Vata, but he was glad to be alive, even if in hiding. He cursed his luck, since the cache of jewels and gold he’d hidden was not this side of Lornwater; they were lost to him now.
He studied those with him in this clearing. He was impressed by the teamwork of Nostor Vata and Bayuan. She’d conjured up an escape plan, which was certainly better than his own, and Captain Bayuan had found a suitable decoy, Girs Chal, a guardsman, who’d been garbed in kingly robes, and sent in the opposite direction in an attempt to escape through sector fourteen, which was occupied by the enemy forces. The family of Girs had been paid for his loyalty – and sacrifice. Should Girs manage to escape, good luck to him; if not, then his body presented a diversion and provided valuable time. The remaining soldiers had acquitted themselves well in the escape bid, too.
True, he knew he was in a dark place, wounded, ousted out of his royal palace, deprived of his riches, servants and soldiery, but he still believed this dire situation could be resolved and his position restored. The promise from the Lord-General gave him hope.
He told Bayuan to send two men to scout for General Pinur Nhev and his fourth toumen. He gripped the sword hilt. As long as he had this, Nhev would help.
He noticed his cheeks were wet. Glad to be alive? No – well, yes – but also still feeling the loss of Jikki.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Later that same day, reports reached Baron Laan about several strange occurrences at the manderon gate. During the night, an alarm was raised when someone observed the lowered drawbridge, the partially opened gate and slightly raised portcullis! The three dead soldiers added concern, and when they investigated the earthbridge and found the eight corpses of the eleventh toumen, their suspicions redoubled. It was pure chance that none of the fourth toumen sequestered in the forest had noticed the opened door and portcullis. Perhaps the corpses would have deterred them.
Now, Baron Laan told Tantian, “We strongly suspect that while the decoy went through the dunsaron sector, Saurosen escaped at the manderon gate.”
“He will be protected by the fourth.”
“Aye, my lady, he will.” He hesitated. “Your husband…”
“Thand is slowly recovering.”
“But?”
“I m
ust trust you, Baron.”
“You may, my lady. You have my word.”
“Dear Daughter Dramomna speaks highly of you. That is good enough for me.”
“You know her?”
“We studied together – a long time ago.”
“What are you going to do now? The populace of the city waits, on a knife-edge, without a leader.”
Tantian locked eyes with him. “Baron, while my husband is not lucid you must be the nominal head of the city. And when we go after Saurosen – soon, I hope – you will carry on in that role.”
“My lady, I am honoured, but precedence should be given to Lord Tanellor.”
“I have spoken to him already, and he has declined, and suggested you.”
Laan offered a smile. “I will keep the city safe for your husband – and pray to the gods that he will enjoy full recovery soon.”
She drew him to one side. “Thand is still troubled by the Underpeople.”
Laan scratched his ear-lobe. “We know now that they are not myth…”
“Their existence might explain a few things. Sister Illasa knows more than she will reveal, I suspect.”
“She seems devoted to you both, however?”
“She is.”
***
His arm and leg wounds bandaged, his gut warm with wine and a sip of the poppy, Aurelan Crossis limped out of the royal palace and blinked at the brightness of the day. He swayed, unsteady on his feet. The bath had restored him a little, as had the wine and drug. He had made his way shakily to the palace guards’ armoury and selected a suitable sword and knife and found a change of clothes to replace his torn and bloody garments.
He leaned against a pillar and stared at a number of naked corpses strung up from nearby trees in the square. Placards declared the name and the offence; the punishment was self-evident: six men were looters, two men were rapists, and a seventh was a traitor. The looters lost their hands, the rapists their manhood, and the traitor his head. He squinted to read the nearest notice: Murar Hun, looter. His lips curled. But there was no sign of Jumo Bem. The wound in his leg stung, reminding him of Bem’s perfidy.
“Captain Aurelan Crossis!”
He turned, recognising the cultured voice. “Lord Tanellor! I’m no longer a captain, my lord.”
They shook hands. “You look in a sorry way, but you survived, at least. I suspect this has not turned out as you would have wished.”
Aurelan scowled. “I yet live – but so does Saurosen, I hear.” He raised a hand, forefinger and thumb almost touching. “I was that close.” He glared at the corpse of Murar Hun. “He and his turncoat confederate betrayed me.”
“Well, he at least has paid the price. As for Saurosen, I’ve heard from Baron Laan that Saurosen escaped through the manderon gate and joined the fourth toumen. Scouts report he is headed towards Taalland.” He heaved a sigh. “Nemond Thand is not well enough at present to give chase, though his wife insists that he will soon.”
“My men should still be camped near Dhur Bridge.” Aurelan eased his shoulders off the wall. “If you could give me a horse, I’ll join them and maybe we can fight Saurosen at the crossing.”
“Are you fit to do that?”
“My vengeance will sustain me.” He paused, grasped Tanellor’s hand. “Would you send a saptor to Lieutenant Danscar? Tell him I’m on my way, but if I don’t get there in time, he must prevent Saurosen from crossing Saloar Teen.”
***
Sister Illasa accosted Cobrora Clen sitting in the palace kitchen garden. “You performed well in the Nemond palace.” She sat beside him, adjusting her multi-hued dress.
He gazed at her close-set olive-green eyes and sensual lips then frowned. “Thank you. It was difficult.”
Resting her six fingers on his knee, she said, “You will master more difficult situations than that, I am sure.”
“You are too generous, Sister Illasa. I do not wish to speak out of turn, but you appear anxious. An aura about you…”
“I am anxious to move on, but cannot until Nemond Thand recovers.” The brownish spot on her forehead above the bridge of her nose shimmered.
He noticed the slight change in the lentigo. “You’ve had a premonition, Sister?”
“Perhaps that is what it was. Cobrora Clen, you must go ahead and not wait for Thand. You will find answers to the questions about your sister’s fate.”
“But where?”
“Go to Taalland.”
***
Ranell stood outside the palace entrance steps. Lorar ran towards him. “Ranell, you’re alive! Thank the gods!”
His mouth curved in a grin then froze.
She cast her gaze over her shoulder. Her despicable agnate stood shifting his feet impatiently across the street.
She wanted to hug Ranell, even kiss him. She stopped in her tracks, stood awkwardly. “I’m glad you are safe. I must go and honour my word. I am so sorry, Ranell.”
***
As Lorar turned on her heel and crossed the road, Ranell clenched his jaw, hate seething against the damnable agnate, but he knew that he could do nothing.
He spun round and made his way down the street, towards the Old City’s varteron gate. He must see to tidying up the Red Tellar; that was his main responsibility. It was a mess. There was no telling when Begetter would return. A great deal of repair work was called for; so, for now, that would suffice: he’d lose himself in work.
CHAPTER FORTY
RECKONING
“Iayen’s double-fisted blow hit him full between the legs,
and with the weight of chains he was unable to take any avoiding action. The pain was slight compared to the rest of his body,
but he was surprised at her strength. For a frail-looking young girl, she hit hard.”
- The Annals of Floreskand, Book I – Chapter 19: Ash
First Sabin of Lamous
Oquar II forest
After a restless night filled with ghastly dreams of the big doe eyes of Sno, the sister of Aurelan Crossis, Saurosen woke with his mind in a fog.
Accursed Aurelan! It was years since his dreams had been plagued by those damnable eyes. May Bridansor crush Aurelan’s heart!
Over a cold breakfast of dried meat and tomato, Saurosen and Nostor Vata jumped at the same time as nearby bushes rustled.
He stood awkwardly, his wounded leg stiff, and withdrew his sword.
Nostor Vata crouched, catlike, as if ready to pounce.
“Sheath the Black Sword, King Saurosen,” said General Pinur Nhev as he entered their clearing. “We have come to your aid.” The two scouts sent out yesterday appeared at the general’s side. His twisted scarred mouth seemed to form a smile. “Your men sought us, and we found them.” His gravel voice was laced with irony.
“Your presence here is most welcome, General,” Saurosen said, replacing the sword.
General Nhev was as he remembered him, tall and broad-shouldered, though the flesh under his dark purple eyes signified lack of sleep over several days. His boiled leather and metal jerkin was blood-smeared and dented in parts; his grey-green pants gathered at the waistline and the puffy legs overflowed the knee-high black leather boots. “You are wounded, sire. Let my physician tend to it.”
“Thank you.” He gestured at Nostor Vata. “My Sardan has given it care, but a second opinion would not go amiss.” Courtesy demanded not to refuse an offer of assistance.
***
Royal Council building, Old City, Lornwater
Welde Dep studied the assembled watchmen as they settled into seats opposite the Prime Watchman in the large auditorium. It was a dizzying blur of plaid, he reckoned. There were quite a few anxious faces, and a small number even bruised, and ten individuals with arms in slings and bandaged heads.
He spotted twelve special investigators like himself. Some might be busy elsewhere, but he knew a good number of them had been embraced by the Overlord in the rioting.
Prime Zen-il had called this meeting for the Chief of the Watc
h from the three cities, and also the respective watch commanders and investigators. Of the thirty-three watch commanders – one for each sector in the three cities – eight had been killed in the course of their duty and six were severely wounded. Apparently, a similar attrition rate had been suffered by the doomsmen too.
The low murmuring hubbub died down as Prime Zen-il stood to speak. He was tall, thick-set with piercing slate-grey eyes and wrinkled features. His uniform was the usual plaid, though tight-fitting in his case; he wore knee-high black leather boots.
“None of us here could have foreseen the death and destruction that has come to damage our city and Lornwater’s reputation.” His voice grated. “Indeed, what we have experienced is not over yet.”
A trickle of men and women reacted with despair or shock, and whispered, the sound growing louder.
“Enough!” He raised a hand.
“It behoves us to restore and maintain the peace. Our numbers have sadly been depleted – may the Overlord give them eternal and blissful repose – so we will require additional help.”
“Who?” asked the Chief of the New City. “The doomsmen are as badly affected, I hear; besides, they are not fighters but judges.”
“Dedicated men-at-arms have been donated by the nobles. They are happy to abide by our rules and apply themselves where the need is greatest.”
“The fire-snuffers are having a hard time of it; they could help there!” suggested another Chief.
“That issue is being addressed as well.”
“What do you want from us, Prime?”
“Your co-operation. For the time being, petty transgressions can be dismissed. We must help our fellow citizens rebuild their homes and lives, and also deter wrong-doing.”
As one, those assembled chorused, “You have it, Prime!”
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Most of the time, Tantian kept her armour on, only removing it in the evening when she bathed and slept. She believed it gave her more authority. And she needed that, for she was kept busy making arrangements to re-equip soldiers of the first toumen, paying them their dues, and negotiating with General Luascar regarding the administration of his toumen, since it now devolved upon the house of Nemond Thand, having switched allegiance from the late Prince Haltese.
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