by Cas Peace
These thoughts and emotions caused Sonten’s heart to contract painfully. He struggled to breathe and stared maliciously at the Albian Journeyman. He just had to get him away from his two companions.
As he fought for composure, he glanced down at the table beside him. The glitter of a silver knife caught his attention and he frowned. Then a smile twisted his thick lips as, unobserved by his fellow guests, he palmed the knife, concealing it within the folds of his cloak. If the Journeyman could somehow be maneuvered away from the throng, one stab of this knife would render him weak and powerless...
Darting around the room, Sonten’s gaze rested on a young, attractive courtesan from his Grace’s retinue. When she looked his way, he beckoned her to him. Whispering urgently in her ear, he passed her the silver knife. She slid it out of sight, her nod and silent smile accepting his commands.
As if she had any choice, he thought, his hooded gaze sliding back to the unsuspecting Albian Journeyman. Satisfied, he sat; the servants were beginning to serve the food.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Taran was distracted from his worries about Sullyan and the Duke by the arrival of the food. Suddenly, he, Bull and Robin found they had more than enough to cope with as a bevy of Andaryan ladies fluttered about them, each determined to win their attention.
Bull’s injured shoulder brought him more admiring sympathy than he could take, especially as he only had one good arm with which to fend off prying hands. Robin was trying to hold three conversations at once. Taran was turning to help the Captain when an eyeful of creamy bosom appeared before his face. Startled, he looked up at the young woman who stood smiling down at him. He smiled tentatively back and when she slid onto his lap, he realized his mistake. The soft and yielding flesh, barely covered by her low-cut gown, was now even closer, and he could smell her alluring perfume. Embarrassed, he averted his gaze and she took full advantage by trailing her hands over his body.
He found her appealing in a puppy-dog kind of way and didn’t want to offend her by pushing her away. Her caresses, though, were too intimate and her smile too lustful. She was hard to resist and, to his horror, he felt his body responding. Her delighted grin told him she could feel it, too, and his face burned with shame. He tried to gently push her off but she clung to him. Unwilling to cause a scene, he fixed his gaze on Sullyan, using the concern he could sense from Robin to distract his unruly body.
He, Bull and Robin traded frequent despairing glances. Between trying to do justice to the truly fine meal, avoiding the silverware—of which there was far too much for Taran to even try judging which was spelled, so he used his own eating knife—and trying to dislodge his admirer, the meal passed in a blur.
Of all of them, it seemed Sullyan was having the easiest time. She had only one admirer to entertain and, judging by the way the Duke held fast to her hand throughout the entire meal, he was not about to let her escape. The other ladies who had managed to secure places at his table were being well and truly ignored and if their venomous looks were anything to go by, vengeance would be sought.
Endless though it seemed, the meal was eventually over and the servants cleared the tables. Taran sighed with relief, hoping to lose his determined little temptress in the crowds. But then the musicians struck up and her adoring eyes glowed. “Oh, good! Dancing,” she gushed, and grabbed him by the hand before anyone could take him from her.
Taran’s heart fell; he was not a natural dancer and the thought of close physical contact with that shamelessly heaving flesh was almost too much. Bull and Robin had also been claimed for the first dance, both looking as desperate as Taran felt.
He had a moment’s respite when the Master of Ceremonies announced the dancing would be led by Lord Rykan and the beautiful Lady Ambassador. They took the floor and Taran thought the Major looked a little strained around her eyes. As the Duke turned to her, though, she curtseyed, displaying an easy grace that drew glares from several ladies.
He realized his simpering young escort had ceased caressing his thigh. Instead, she was watching him archly.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” she accused.
Startled, he glanced at her. “No, not really.” He indicated Robin, standing nearby with a voluptuous lady on either arm. “Besides, she’s already spoken for.”
The woman followed his gaze, appraising the Captain, running her eyes appreciatively over his powerfully lithe body. She snorted and turned back to Taran.
“Him? He’s handsome enough, I’ll grant you, but he’ll be no match for milord the Duke should he decide to have her. You’d better warn him to stay clear if he values his health, or there will be trouble. His Grace doesn’t take kindly to interference.”
He heard her gasp and shot her a look. She was staring across the room but he couldn’t see the reason for such a reaction. “Come on,” she said, tugging at Taran’s arm. Resigned, he joined her on the dance floor.
The evening faded into a haze of female faces, a tangle of women’s bodies. Their perfume, their greedy clutches, their aggressively amorous looks, Taran found them nearly impossible to resist. More than once he had to steer himself and his partner away from the doors leading out to the darkened balconies as all of them, and especially his increasingly desperate little temptress, seemed determined to drag him out there. If any of them had succeeded in getting him alone, he only had his imagination to tell him what trouble there would have been.
Only a handful of times did he get a glimpse of the Major, monopolized as she was by Rykan. Not even the Count, it seemed, was allowed a dance with her and no one was foolish enough to try. Eventually, and to Taran’s immense relief, the musicians finished their sets. During the polite applause that followed, servants brought seats and arranged them in a ring around the room. He, Robin and Bull secured seats near the head of the ring where they could see Lord Rykan and the Major clearly.
Taran thought Sullyan looked tired, but she still spoke with and smiled at the Duke and laughed gently at some of his comments. He still held her fast by the hand and she no longer tried to extricate herself.
Once all the guests were seated—Taran experiencing a moment of triumph when the rush to secure the best seats denied the now-frantic courtesan a spot by his side—there was movement by the doors. Three servants carried in a huge floor-harp and set it before the Duke.
Taran had never seen a harp so large and wondered how one person could possibly play it. He soon had his answer when two minstrels moved forward and stationed themselves one on either side of the magnificent instrument. They played a set of songs that were alien to Taran’s ears, although the guests appreciated them loudly. Then, as a final piece, and after Rykan had sent a servant to speak with them, they played a love song that Taran recognized. He was disquieted by the look the Duke was giving Sullyan as the song was played, although she betrayed no emotion. He was also feeling rather proud of Robin, who was restraining himself admirably in the face of the Duke’s interest in his love.
Once the song was over and Sullyan had shown her appreciation, Rykan at last released her hand. He stood, the room instantly going silent.
“My dear Count Marik,” he began, his voice ringing deeply, “nobles and ladies all. It is late and we have been most royally entertained tonight.”
The guests applauded loudly.
“But before the evening draws to a close, I have a request to make of the lovely Lady Ambassador, who so graciously consented to be my consort tonight.”
Taran saw the momentary start Sullyan gave at the word “consort” and the wariness that crossed her face. Beside him, Robin raised his head like a hound sensing danger.
The Duke turned to Sullyan. “My vassal, Count Marik, tells me you have some skill with the harp, Lady. Would you do us the very great honor of playing the final piece tonight?”
A murmur ran around the assembled guests. Taran heard astonishment, delight, and even pique from some of the other ladies. He saw the Major close her eyes momentarily as if over
come by weariness, but she stood with liquid grace and gave a small nod of acceptance.
“The honor is mine,” she said and moved toward the harp.
She positioned herself to one side of the vast instrument and spread her hands on the strings. Soft, liquid notes rippled around the room and the crowd fell expectantly still. There was a pause while she stood with her head bowed, her eyes closed. Then her hands moved on the strings and the first sweet notes of a melody filled the air.
Taran recognized the tune—it was one of those timeless airs, ancient beyond knowledge of its origins—but when the Major began to sing, he could make no sense of the words. They had a profound effect on Lord Rykan, though. He seemed mesmerized by Sullyan’s skill, her mastery of the huge instrument a wonder to them all.
As the last throbbing notes of the song faded, silence descended. Taran looked around at the rapt expressions on the guests’ faces, none of whom wanted to break the spell. Just when it seemed they would sit that way forever, Lord Rykan stood, leading an applause that swept the room and rang to the rafters, the entire audience surging to its feet.
The Duke stepped forward and took both the Major’s hands in his. “I had no idea you knew the old high language, Lady. You have done us great honor tonight, for which we can only thank you.”
Sullyan bowed her head and returned his smile. “It is I who must thank you, my Lord, for giving me an evening I shall never forget when I return to Albia.”
Taran didn’t miss the double meaning of her words. The Duke however, was concerned by her mention of leaving and his predatory eyes narrowed. “Lady, it would please me greatly if you would accept an invitation to be my guest at Kymer. The comforts of my palace are surely far more conducive to diplomatic discussions than this poor place.”
“You are too kind, your Grace,” replied the Major smoothly. “Under happier circumstances I would be honored to accept your invitation. However, at this time, I fear I must decline, as after the council meeting tomorrow I am constrained to return to my duties. I do trust I have given no offense?” She executed a deep obeisance.
The Duke looked offended, but could say nothing in the face of her courtesy. His yellow eyes flashed in annoyance as he said, “Very well. I will excuse you this time, my Lady Ambassador, provided you do me the honor of promising to return soon to accept my hospitality.”
There was steel in his gaze and hunger on his face. Taran shuddered.
“If my General so wishes it, your Grace, I will indeed return,” replied the Major, keeping her head bowed demurely to avoid his furious eyes.
She curtseyed again as Rykan stamped away, followed by his retinue.
The rest of the guests drifted off to their rooms. Taran sighed with relief as the courtesan who had been vying for his attention all night left as well, not daring to come near while Sullyan was with them.
The Major was the subject of many envenomed glances as she left the hall. She was obviously exhausted and remained silent as they climbed the stairs to their suite. Once the door shut, she collapsed onto the bed.
Robin sat beside her and gathered her into his arms, stroking her hair. Taran watched in quiet concern. After a while she revived a little and, pushing herself away from the Captain, sat up.
“Oh, gods,” she said wearily, “I never would have come if I had known he would be here. No wonder Harva told me to beware. Curse Marik. What was he thinking of, why didn’t he warn me?”
“What’s Rykan doing here, Sully? Did you get any idea what he’s up to?” asked Bull. The big man was occupying an overstuffed chair, trying to ease his shoulder.
Sullyan’s eyes narrowed at this display of pain and she moved toward him. “I have a nasty suspicion that he intends to go against the Hierarch.”
“Bloody hell,” said Bull. “Civil war? Is he strong enough to risk such upheaval?”
She placed her hand over the wound in his shoulder, clicking her tongue at the heat in it.
“Ordinarily I would say no.” Closing her eyes, she gave Bull more healing. “For all his wealth and standing, I think he has neither the power nor the might to challenge the Hierarch openly. However, something is happening here that I do not like. For all his faults and reluctance, Marik and I are friends. He would not normally allow me to walk into such a trap. The fact that he said nothing tells me something is badly amiss.
“But although I dislike the coincidence of finding Rykan here while an invasion force attacks our lands, I cannot, at present, see a connection. The Duke is a skilled tactician, well known for taking personal command of his troops. I would not expect to find him attending the banquet of such a minor vassal as Count Marik while his warriors were laying waste to our realm. Even if the Count is known to be our friend.”
Bull’s face was losing its pained expression under Sullyan’s touch. Taran saw him begin to relax.
“It is not as if the Duke would fear Marik coming to our assistance,” she continued. “The Count cannot afford to maintain a force of trained fighters and the levies he could raise would pay for land laborers, at best. Neither does he hold knowledge that might be of use to the Duke. He was never a prolific or a successful raider, and I would wager that Rykan has a far greater knowledge of Albian defenses than Marik does. It is a puzzle I do not yet understand. All I can do is try to find out more tomorrow.”
She nodded at Bull and removed her hand. Taran felt envious fascination; he had never seen anyone capable of using power for one thing while talking about another.
“Will Rykan be at the meeting tomorrow?” asked Robin, his tone a touch too casual.
Sullyan smiled. “No, Robin. He intends to leave for Kymer before first light. I am relieved, I do not think I would have the strength to resist him again.” She headed for the washroom. “Come, gentlemen, we are all tired and I know you had your hands full of your own problems tonight. You did very well, by the way. I was proud of the way you resisted such temptation.” She grinned at their sudden embarrassment.
“Tomorrow will be a busy day and in the light of the evening’s events, I feel we should be on our guard tonight. Taran, will you take first watch again? Robin and Bull will take the later, and I the dawn watch. Let us see what tomorrow’s meeting brings.”
Most of the day was spent carrying out lightning raids. Heron’s company—like Verris’, augmented by the extra men he’d received—pushed relentlessly northward, firing villages throughout the provinces of Arnor and Rethrick, reaching the southern borders of Loxton.
Heron kept in touch with Verris through the substrate, coordinating their companies’ efforts while keeping the forces sent to oppose them from organizing an effective defense. He knew the Albian swordsmen had caught only rare glimpses of them; their orders to inflict damage and flee meant they posed a frustratingly elusive target. By the time news of their presence in a particular area reached the local defenders, they had vanished, only to resurface somewhere else.
He and Verris had roused their men just before dawn as usual. By midday, they were drawing closer together. Their routes brought them on converging lines and by the time Heron’s scouts caught sight of Verris’, they were well into the remoter districts of Loxton Province, territory controlled by the personal forces of Elias Rovannon, High King of Albia.
Heron knew Loxton was an open province, consisting mainly of grasslands and rolling hills. The vast forest surrounding Port Loxton, Albia’s capital city, was far to the north and the few wooded areas of the south offered little cover for raiders who wished to remain hidden. However, he was anticipating changes to their orders very soon and open countryside would better serve their needs.
Shortly after noon, he and Verris had finally met and they were allowing their men a breather under the scant protection of the only tree cover for miles. Abruptly, with no warning, Verris received the message they had both been waiting for.
He dropped the chunk of cheese he was eating and his eyes lost their focus. Heron stopped chewing his strip of meat and watched his
rival. The huge grin that appeared on Verris’ face told Heron that all was going to plan. He was both relieved that their initial task had been successfully completed and anxious about the next stage.