Treason Keep

by Jennifer Fallon

He shook his head. “Sorry, but I’ve got other things demanding my attention.”

  “Ah well, it was worth a try. I’ll ask young Dace. He seems to know everybody in the whole damned camp.”

  Tarja stopped dead, almost jerking Miffany off her feet. “Dace? A fair-haired lad about so high? Wears the worst collection of cast-off clothing you’ve ever seen?”

  “That’s our Dace,” Miff agreed. “How do you know him?”

  “I came here looking for him.”

  “I thought it was too much to hope that you came here just to see me,” she sighed.

  “Where can I find him?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? He’s a sweet boy too, but every time he appears, something goes missing. He hangs around with a Karien boy. They turn up every now and then, looking for a meal.”

  “And you feed them, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have any idea where I can find him? It’s really important.”

  Miffany thought for a moment and then nodded. “Try old Draginya, the herb woman. She lives over by Will Barley’s tavern tent. She’s a weird old buzzard, always praying to the Primal Gods and muttering to herself, but I’ve seen Dace with her now and then. She might know where he is.”

  Tarja bent down and kissed Miffany’s plump cheek. “You’re the best.”

  “Then how come you’re leaving?” she called after him.

  Tarja would have found Draginya’s tent simply by following the smell, even if Miffany had not described its location. The tent was crammed with dried herbs and a smoking brazier that gave off an aroma unlike anything he had smelled before. The old woman was wrapped in several tattered shawls against the cold and she looked up with rheumy eyes as Tarja bent almost double to get through the tent flap. He straightened up once he was inside, his head brushing the roof of the tent.

  “Captain Tarja Tenragan,” the old woman said, as if she expected him.

  “How do you know who I am?” The tent was gloomy and he had to squint to make her out.

  “You are the demon child’s appointed lover. Kalianah has made it so. She told me about you.”

  Tarja was still atheist enough not to want to know what she meant. “I seek Dacendaran.”

  “The God of Thieves? An odd companion for a man like you.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “The gods are everywhere, Captain.”

  “I was hoping you could be a bit more specific.”

  The old woman smiled revealing toothless pink gums. “Dacendaran said you were unusual for a Defender. I see what he means.”

  “I need to speak with him,” Tarja insisted.

  “The gods listen to all our prayers, Captain.”

  “I don’t want to pray to him, dammit, I need to ask him something!”

  “Well, there’s no need to yell, Tarja. I’m not deaf.” He spun around to find the God of Thieves standing behind him. The boy looked unchanged from the last time he had seen him in Testra, but that was hardly surprising. Dace pushed past him and knelt down beside the old woman. “Is he bullying you, Draginya? Shall I turn him into something with six legs that likes to live under a rock?”

  “He is young, Divine One, and at the mercy of Kalianah’s geas.”

  Dace stood up and turned to Tarja. “Well, it seems you get to stay in one piece. What did you want?”

  “Where’s R’shiel?”

  “At the Citadel, I suppose,” Dace shrugged.

  “Something’s happened to her.”

  “I’d know if she were dead. You humans worry far too much.”

  Tarja glared at the boy. “Jenga has been ordered to surrender.”

  That news gave the god pause. His grin faded. “That’s probably not a good sign.”

  “Dace, the only way that order could have been issued is if R’shiel failed. Something has happened to her.”

  “Well, if it has, it’s her own fault. I offered to go with them, but did they want my help? No. They wanted to do it all on their own. The Harshini are like that you know. They always think—”

  “Dace!”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry. What did you want me to do?”

  “Find out…what happened…to R’shiel,” Tarja explained very slowly and carefully.

  “Oh. I suppose that’s not a bad idea. If something’s happened to her, we’ll have to start this whole demon child thing all over again. Now that would be a bore.”

  “How long will it take?”

  Dace shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Tarja clenched his fists at his side, rather than grab Dace around the throat and shake him soundly, which was what he really wanted to do. “When will you leave?”

  “You’re so impatient.”

  “She could be in danger, Dace.”

  “She might just be sunning herself beside a pool somewhere, too,” the god retorted. “On the other hand, it is winter and R’shiel never was the sort to relax, although it wouldn’t do her any harm…Oh, stop looking at me like that! I’ll go and see what’s happening, but I won’t cross Zegarnald if he’s got a hand in this. He’s as strong as he’s ever been with this war going on.”

  “You do whatever you have to, Divine One,” Tarja agreed.

  Dace grinned. “Divine One? Does this mean you’re finally coming to believe in us, Tarja?”

  “I believe in you Dace, I just don’t happen to want to worship you.”

  “Ah, well,” the god sighed. “Just so long as you never tell Kalianah you love her.”

  “That’s not very likely.”

  “Glad to hear it. Will you see that Draginya gets away safely?”

  Tarja nodded. The boy turned to the old woman and kissed her cheek. “See, Tarja will take care of you. I’d better go see what’s happened to the demon child.”

  Dace vanished without warning, leaving Tarja frowning and old Draginya smiling toothlessly.

  CHAPTER 53

  Mikel was chattering away to Dace about the eggs they had stolen when he suddenly realised that his friend was no longer with him. He looked around the crowded camp, puzzled. Dace was nowhere to be seen.

  Mikel sighed, used to Dace’s odd disappearances by now. He did that sort of thing a lot. One minute he was there and the next he was gone. Still, it wasn’t that important. Mikel knew the way to the old herb woman’s place where the eggs were safely nestled in an old shawl in the corner of her tent. He was far more interested in them, anyway. The chicks should hatch any day now and he was as excited as any expectant father.

  He turned into the street beside Will Barley’s tavern tent and stopped dead as a familiar figure emerged from the old woman’s tent. Mikel bit back a startled cry and slipped back between the tavern tent and the tent beside it. What was Tarja doing in the old woman’s tent? Had he discovered the eggs?

  Even Mikel knew that stealing a clutch of swallow’s eggs wouldn’t warrant the attention of a Defender. Perhaps he was sickening for something and had gone to see Draginya for a cure? Then something truly dreadful occurred to him. Perhaps Tarja had discovered that Mikel spent most of his afternoons with Dace and had come looking for him. The only reason Tarja would seek him out was to punish him, Mikel was certain. What would he do? Would Jaymes lose a finger because of his brother’s folly? That he had disowned his brother as a traitor was momentarily forgotten.

  He waited anxiously, filled with trepidation as Tarja moved off between the tents. When he was sure the Defender wouldn’t turn back, he hurried to the old woman’s tent and slipped inside.

  “Did he hurt you?” Mikel demanded as soon as the flap closed behind him.

  Draginya sat in her chair by the smoking brazier from where she hardly ever seemed to move; at least in Mikel’s company.

  “Did who hurt me, child?” She sounded surprised by his question.

  “Tarja.”

  Her face creased into a wrinkled frown. “You speak with too much hatred for a child.”

  “That’s because he’s a monster!�
�

  “Your ignorance blinds you, boy. Tarja is the appointed lover of the demon child. He is destined for great things.”

  Mikel stared at her. “Says who?”

  “The gods, of course. Hasn’t your god explained these things?”

  “The Overlord doesn’t speak to the likes of me. He only speaks to the priests and stuff.”

  Draginya nodded sadly. “That is a great shame.”

  “Anyway,” Mikel added, rather put out by the old woman’s pitying tone. “Tarja’s a Medalonian. That makes him an atheist. Even if I believed what you say about the other gods, he wouldn’t.”

  “Tarja knows the gods exist, Mikel. He simply choses not to worship them. The Primal Gods like to have believers, but they don’t need them. You honoured Dacendaran when you stole those eggs. Whether you believe in him or not doesn’t enter into it.”

  “We never stole anything!”

  “You removed those eggs from their rightful owner without permission. That defines theft, don’t you think?”

  “But we wanted to save the chicks,” he protested.

  “If you kill one man to save another, it is still killing, Mikel. Good intentions don’t alter the nature of an event.”

  “Then I betrayed the Overlord,” he concluded, sinking down to the floor beside Draginya’s stool. “I’m doomed.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” the old woman scolded. “You are a child, Mikel, and far too young to concern yourself with visions of doom and eternal damnation. Live life to the full and follow the god of your heart, not the tired litanies of grown-ups whose desire for power has a lot more to do with their faith than what their god might want.”

  “That’s blasphemy.”

  “No, it’s wisdom. When you’re as old as I am, you get to call everything wisdom. Now go check on your eggs and be off with you. I’m tired and I have to start packing.”

  “You’re leaving? Why?” Mikel was much less concerned about the old woman travelling in winter than he was about his eggs. If she left, what would he do with them?

  “Because your people will be here soon. They’ll take one look at me and burn me for a witch, I’m certain.”

  “You mean there’ll be another battle? One that Prince Cratyn will win?”

  She shook her head and placed a withered hand on his shoulder. “The battle has been fought and lost far from this place, child. The Defenders have been ordered to surrender.”

  All thought of eggs fled Mikel’s mind as the news sunk in. The Defenders were going to surrender! Jaymes would be released and brought back into the arms of the Overlord.

  And best of all, he thought happily, Princess Adrina wouldn’t have to pretend to hate Prince Cratyn any more.

  Mikel hurried back through the camp, his heart lighter than it had been for months. Any day now, Prince Cratyn would cross the border in triumph. Karien had won. Tarja would be hung for the criminal he was. The Overlord had made the Medalonians surrender with hardly a drop of blood spilt. (He conveniently forgot the massacre resulting from the only serious Karien incursion into Medalon.) It didn’t matter what happened now. It didn’t matter what they did to him. The Overlord was truly omnipotent, just like the priests said.

  He skirted the edge of the camp and wound his way back through the corrals, taking the route closest to the Hythrun stables. He always took the same route. Dace claimed it was in the hope of catching sight of his brother—a charge Mikel vehemently denied. It was simply the easiest way back, he insisted, ignoring Dace’s knowing smirk.

  This time, however, he actively searched for his brother. He had to give him the news, quite certain that as soon as Jaymes learnt his own people would soon be here, he would see the error of his ways. Mikel was thrilled by the prospect and burning to share it with someone.

  Jaymes was nowhere to be found, but as he stuck his head cautiously around the corner of the first stable block, he spied someone who deserved to hear the news even more.

  Adrina was alone, brushing down a gorgeous golden mare, talking to the beast softly as she worked. There was nobody else around, not even a guard. Mikel chose to think of that as a sign from the Overlord, rather than the more obvious conclusion—that she wasn’t guarded because they didn’t consider her in need of one.

  “Your Highness!” he hissed loudly.

  Adrina turned and frowned when she caught sight of him.

  “Mikel? What are you doing hiding over there?”

  He slipped into the stable and ran to her, dropping to one knee as he had seen the Fardohnyan lanceman do after the battle. The gesture had struck him as being terribly noble.

  “Your Highness, I have the most wonderful news!”

  “Have you now? Do tell.”

  “Medalon has surrendered, your Highness. Prince Cratyn will be here any day. We are to be rescued!”

  Mikel looked up, expecting to see relief and happiness radiating from her in equal measure. He was disappointed to find her taking the news quite calmly.

  “And where did you hear this startling piece of intelligence?” she asked.

  “From the old herb woman in the camp. She’s already packing to leave for fear of the Overlord’s wrath.”

  Adrina smiled. “Mikel, don’t you think if Medalon had surrendered, their troops might be told before some old herb woman? I’m sure she’s mistaken.”

  “But she seemed so certain, your Highness. Even Tarja went to visit her.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” Adrina agreed. “Do you know why?”

  “The old woman said it was to talk to the God of Thieves, but I don’t believe her. There is only the Overlord, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed absently.

  “Aren’t you happy, your Highness?”

  “I’m delirious with happiness,” she assured him. “It’s just not seemly that a woman in my position display extremes of emotion.”

  He smiled with relief. He had forgotten how well mannered she was, how careful she was not to shame herself. It must have been so hard on her, having to pretend to be nice to everyone, while inside she was missing Prince Cratyn so badly.

  “It will be alright, your Highness. Prince Cratyn will be here soon.”

  “I can’t tell you what a comfort that is,” she said.

  Mikel stood up beaming. To have been able to deliver such wonderful news to his lady was more than he could have hoped for in this dreadful place.

  Adrina smiled down at him. “I thank you, Mikel, but shouldn’t you be getting along? The Defenders haven’t surrendered yet, and I’d hate for you to wear a beating on my account.”

  “It won’t be long now, your Highness,” Mikel promised with an encouraging smile. He turned and ran from the stable, almost colliding with Lord Wolfblade. He yelped with astonishment and fled past the Warlord, praying he hadn’t been recognised.

  A few paces from the stable, Mikel stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The Warlord had vanished inside. The princess was in there. Alone. It just wasn’t proper. He wavered with indecision for a moment and then headed back to the stable.

  Mikel slipped back into the building silently, grateful for Dace’s instruction on how to sneak around without being noticed, and hid in the first empty stall he came to. It was close enough to hear what the Warlord said to the princess. The boy smiled expectantly. Now that she knew she was to be rescued soon, he fully expected Adrina to give him a piece of her mind.

  “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

  Adrina looked over her shoulder. “When I was a child, the only thing we were ever allowed to do for ourselves, was groom our horses. Hablet thought it would teach us a responsibility.”

  “And did it?”

  She smiled. “Actually, I think it taught us more about the value of bribes. It was more fun trying to avoid the task than doing it.”

  Damin walked up behind Adrina and placed his hand over hers as she brushed the animal with long slow strokes. He stood so close behind her that their bo
dies were touching. The princess didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch. Damin bent his head and touched his lips to her neck, just below her right ear. She arched her back and leaned into him.

  “Stop that.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s no future in this, Damin. You know that as well as I.”

  He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Ah, that’s right, we hate each other, don’t we?”

  She turned in his arms and touched her forehead to his. “You’re confusing lust with genuine feeling, my Lord.”

  As if to give lie to her words, she kissed him. There was no mistaking it for anything else; she was definitely kissing him, not the other way around. Mikel almost bit through his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out his outrage.

  “If that’s your idea of trying to make me stop, then the court’esa who trained you needs to be horsewhipped,” Damin laughed softly when they finally came up for air.

  Adrina smiled. It was the same sort of intimate smile R’shiel saved for Tarja. The sort of smile Adrina had never bestowed on his prince.

  “That’s all this is, you know. A simple case of two well trained and rather bored people amusing themselves far from home.”

  “I grant you that we’re both well trained,” Damin agreed, unwrapping her arms from around his neck. He held her hands for a moment and then turned them over, kissing the palms. “And I’ve no doubt you’re bored. But this is far from simple, Adrina.”

  She sighed. “I know. So what are we going to do?”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m heading home while I still can.”

  “How noble of you. What happens to me?”

  “That’s up to you. You have two choices. Stay and face Cratyn, or come with me.”

  Adrina’s eyes widened. “Follow you to Hythria? You’re pretty damn certain of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I wish I could say my offer was entirely motivated by the knowledge that you’d rather die than live without me, but the fact is, neither you nor I want a Karien heir to your father’s throne. The whole world will be safer with you in my bed, rather than Cratyn’s.”

  “You are the most arrogant pig I have ever met.”