Dark Lady_s Chosen cotn-4

by Gail Z. Martin

  Halik met his eyes. "Pray the child takes after King Martris, and Queen Serae's side of the family," he said with a level gaze. "If he's dark-featured, like Jared was-" "They'll conveniently forget Bricen's coloring and blame it on me," Carroway finished the sentence. He turned away from them with an oath and ran a hand back through his hair. "Does it get worse?"

  "I'm afraid it does," Tadghe said quietly. "Count Suphie and Lord Guarov claim to have their own intelligence from the war front. They say the war is going badly, and that the troops are being squandered against an opponent that's too well fortified to destroy. There are even claims that plague has broken out-a mage-sent plague. Guarov says it's probably something King Martris and his mages cooked up to use against Curane that backfired on him-"

  "Tris would never do such a thing!"

  Tadghe shrugged. "Unfortunately, at least some of what Suphie and Guarov are saying does seem to be true. I've been down to the barracks-have a few friends down there from the rebellion. They're the couriers who take Crevan's packs back and forth to the king. Their stories don't sound good. One man said he saw a cairn as tall as a house. Another said he wasn't permitted to come inside the camp because the King didn't want him carrying plague back to Shekerishet. He was ordered to drop his pouch outside the gate, and another pouch was waiting

  for him there."

  Carroway shook his head. "Tris left with four thousand soldiers. I wouldn't be surprised if others joined up along the way. Curane couldn't have that many men at arms. I knew minstrels who played at Lochlanimar. It's not as large at Shekerishet, and I don't think you could billet four thousand men or close to it at the manor." He started to pace. "Senne and Palinn were experienced generals. Ban knew a thing or two about war as well. And while I never liked Tarq or Rallan, no one ever accused them of incompetence." "Just insufferable arrogance," Tadghe muttered under his breath. "It's the magic," Bandele replied. "Even the hedge witches are talking about it. They say there's a magic river of power that all mages draw from, and it's gone mad, for want of a better word." She met Carroway's eyes. "There have been rumors about Curane taking in Arontala's blood mages since the rebellion. If the magic really isn't working right, that would work against the King." "What else is being said at court?"

  Halik and Tadghe exchanged glances. "There's talk of a vayash moru uprising."

  "I thought we ended that nonsense when Jared lost the throne."

  Halik shook his head. "When the King left for war, the vayash moru stopped coming to court-except for Mikhail. You said at the time they weren't sure of their welcome without the King. But from what I hear, it's gone beyond court. I have friends in the village whose 'extended family' include vayash moru. They've gone missing, and rather suddenly. No one knows where or why."

  "That doesn't mean they're planning an attack. Damn, I don't know," Carroway said, leaning back against the wall. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache that was rapidly gaining strength. "It's not like the vayash moru talk about their customs when they're with mortals. Maybe there's a religious celebration. It could be anything." "You know the court," Bandele replied. "They'll never take a simple explanation if a conspiracy can be concocted. But people are afraid. The King's gone to war. The Queen's under suspicion of treason. Lord Acton and Lord Dravan are two of the sane voices at court, but the panic is starting to feed on itself. Eadoin might have been able to sway people, but."

  Carroway swallowed hard. "How is Eadoin?"

  Bandele's eyes filled with tears. "The only word we've had came when Brynne and Seren

  rode out to Brightmoor. Guards stopped them before they reached the gates. They had to shout to their friends inside the manor. It's bad. Eadoin refused to leave when the fever first broke out. She didn't want to bring it to court and risk harming the Queen. Now she's fallen ill herself. It's a killing fever," Bandele said, her voice dropping. "About half who come down with it die. And Eadoin's not a young woman." Carroway closed his eyes, fighting back grief.

  "I'm sorry," Bandele said, reaching out to take Carroway's hand. She held it tightly and

  rested her cheek against it. "I'm so sorry."

  After a moment, Carroway found his voice. "What of Crevan?"

  Paiva leaned forward. "Bian's niece took me with her to the public house in the town where the kitchen girls like to go. I spent a night drinking with them, and got them talking. Seems Crevan's taken an interest in the cooking since Bian got locked up. Crevan hired her replacement himself. She's a fearsome old hag. The girls call her a witch, but they don't mean magic. They are afraid to speak of it near the palace, but I got them drunk enough to say what was on their minds," Paiva said with a satisfied smile. Her tale reminded Carroway that Macaria had told him Paiva made nearly as much picking pockets as she did with her music before Macaria had brought her to the palace.

  "This new cook of Crevan's brings her own ingredients and won't let anyone else touch them. But one day, one of the girls snuck into the pantry on a dare. She found tansy, rue and pennyroyal, plus hellebore, ground up fine as flour." Carroway looked mystified. "I don't understand."

  Paiva rolled her eyes and sniffed derisively. "Men. The girls knew immediately what it meant-and they were scared witless over it." At the blank stares Carroway, Halik and Tadghe gave her, Paiva slapped her palms on the table. "Have you never heard it said that a wench 'takes a flower to bed' with her if she doesn't want to end up with child?" "They're all herbs to prevent pregnancy," Bandele said quietly. "Worse-they're the herbs women take to be rid of an inconvenient babe. It's more than old wives' tales. Taken at high enough doses, they bring miscarriage."

  From the other men's stunned expressions, Carroway knew he was not the only one floored by the news. "Dear Goddess. Wouldn't Cerise be able to tell? Kiara's had Jae testing her food since Malae was poisoned."

  Bandele shrugged. "Since it's not technically poison-in that it won't kill the person eating it-Jae probably wouldn't notice. As for Cerise-the girl said the herbs were ground up to dust. If the cook was careful, she might use just enough to do damage without affecting the taste or making Cerise suspicious." "Can we prove Crevan is behind it?"

  "Not unless we can show that he paid for the herbs and knew what they were," Tadghe said roughly.

  "Macaria said Alle hand-picked the servants for the lodge," Carroway said, feeling panic begin to rise. "We can hope she saw to the provisioning herself, too. Do you know how much a woman has to eat before she loses the child?"

  Paiva shrugged. "Most of the women I knew were so desperate, they figured more was better. I think it depends on the woman."

  "Kiara has had a difficult time from the start," Carroway said, sitting down as shock overtook him. "She told us that her mother had nearly died bearing her. But if Crevan intended this, no wonder he wanted Bian out of the kitchen." He looked to Halik. "Can the boy who spies for you find out anything more?"

  Halik looked away. "He's gone missing. No one's seen him all day, and he didn't come home last night. Someone said there was a fresh hole in the ice on the lake." He bit his lip. "I never thought he'd be in danger. I wouldn't have asked him to help if I'd ever dreamed Crevan was this thick into it."

  "We still don't have enough to accuse Crevan," Carroway fretted. "But I know who will listen." He looked from Halik to Tadghe. "I need you to ride out and find Harrtuck. Surely whatever rioting Crevan sent him to quell has been resolved by now. He may even be on his way back. We need his authority to do anything. He'll believe you, and he'll know what to do next."

  Halik and Tadghe nodded. "We'll leave in the morning. With the Queen gone, there's less call for music so it's not as if we'll be leaving brokenhearted patrons behind." "What about us?" Bandele asked. "What can we do?"

  "Stay away from Crevan. We don't need anything happening to you, and he's bound to suspect if you're underfoot. Find out what you can, but don't put yourselves or anyone else at risk. If he is behind the boy's disappearance, he won't hesitate to hurt you if he thinks he's bein
g found out. Promise me you'll be careful."

  Bandele and Paiva nodded solemnly. "We'll be careful. We're no use to you or the Queen if Crevan bans us from the palace."

  Carroway managed a smile he didn't feel. "That's my girls. While Halik and Tadghe are gone, play when you can for the court and see what you hear. Tris and Kiara are going to need all the friends they can get if they're going to hang on to the throne."

  Chapter Twenty

  A man's agonized scream cut through the silence at the old fuller's mill. There was a thud as a body hit the wall hard. The wall that separated Cam's prison in an old wool room from the main mill area shuddered.

  "We know you're Donelan's spy," Cam heard Ruggs shout through the wall at his captive. "What I want to know is-what have you told Donelan?"

  Another thud, and the man screamed again. In his prison, Cam dragged himself painfully toward the wall. His broken leg was swollen to nearly double its size, and he knew he could not stand without the wall's support. But he couldn't sit by while Ruggs tortured someone. Not without trying to help.

  "I'm not a patient man," Ruggs said in a deadly tone. "Tell me what you know, and I'll stop the pain. Toy with me and I'll still have my answers. even if I have to drag them out of you along with your guts."

  Cam winced at the sound of boots connecting hard with flesh. The prisoner groaned and retched. Cam inched his way along the wall. His injured leg sent flashes of pain streaking through his body. His left arm was worse. The wound where Ruggs had severed his finger had gone bad; Cam knew that by the smell. His left hand was hot and swollen, and as the days passed, the infection had gradually made its way up his arm. Now, his whole body was feverish. A few more days and Ruggs's hope for a captive to use for leverage against Donelan would be dashed. Cam was quite sure the fever or the poison from the festering wound would take him before long. Still, he inched on, until he found a break between boards big enough to see through.

  Ruggs's captive wore the bloodied uniform of the Isencroft army. He was young, probably not yet twenty. From what Cam could see, Ruggs and his men had already worked the spy over before they got to the mill. The man's uniform was torn and covered with blood, and his face was swollen and bruised. Blood trickled from the soldier's nose and mouth. Ruggs gave the prisoner a vicious kick. "What does Donelan know?"

  The prisoner moaned. Cam had to lean closer to the break in the boards to make out his words. "The men we caught in town sing sweetly," he managed. "Donelan has them all-"

  "Liar!" Ruggs bent down and dragged the soldier to his feet. He pinned the prisoner to the wall not far from where Cam watched helplessly and slammed his fist into the soldier's stomach, doubling the young man over. A vicious backhand snapped the prisoner's head back up, slamming it hard enough against the wall that Cam was amazed the soldier didn't lose consciousness.

  A bitter smile crept over the young man's split lips. "It's too late. I was the bait. When I don't return, they'll know for sure you're here. You don't have much time left." Ruggs gave a howl of rage and Cam saw a glint of light as a knife turned in Ruggs's hand an instant before he plunged it hilt-deep into the soldier's belly. The point jammed into the wall, and for a moment, Ruggs let the prisoner hang suspended by the dagger beneath his ribs. The soldier groaned in pain and Ruggs could not restrain himself from landing another punch before he pulled his knife free and let the dying soldier slump to the ground. "Throw him in with the other one. We have work to do."

  Enraged, Cam shuffled closer to the door. Fighting or escaping was beyond reach, but he could at least use his bulk to attack whoever came through the opening. The door opened, and with a roar, Cam threw himself at the two divisionists who dragged the battered soldier between them. His leg gave out on him, and he missed the first man, but he landed hard on the second and clamped his uninjured hand around the man's thin neck, squeezing with all his strength.

  "Whore-spawned bastard!" he shouted as he sank his fingers into the man's neck. The pommel of a sword came down hard on the side of Cam's head, making him see stars. Three men dragged him from the downed rebel and broke his grip on the man's neck. The divisionists gathered their downed comrade and Cam looked up to see Ruggs framed in the doorway.

  "The men Donelan's captured won't stop us," Ruggs said as Cam raised his head to glare at him. "The army's on their way. We have some surprises waiting for them. We'll make it clear that some Isencroft men refuse to sell our souls to a foreign king." He gave a cold smile. "Make peace with whatever Aspect you honor. When the king's troops come into sight, I plan to hang both of you from the outer wall as a welcome banner." Ruggs slammed the door shut behind him and Cam heard the bolt slide into place.

  Cam dragged himself over to where the battered soldier lay. There was just enough light making its way into the storage room from the late afternoon sun for him to see how bad the

  young man's wounds were. Cam had seen enough of battle to recognize a mortal wound, and the jagged tear left by Ruggs's knife would have challenged even so fine a healer as Carina.

  The soldier turned his head slightly. "Don't move," Cam said quietly, drawing himself up into a sitting position with his good arm and gritting his teeth against the pain as he jarred his

  broken leg. "I'm nothing much to look at anyhow."

  "Cam of Cairnrach?" The soldier's voice was muffled through swollen lips.

  "Yes."

  "The king thanks you for your warning."

  Cam looked at him in astonishment. "Rhistiart made it through with my message?"

  "And my mission was to tell you that help is on the way."

  "Please don't tell me that you meant to let them capture you."

  The soldier gave a weak laugh and sputtered blood. "I was to tell you to watch sharp tomorrow night. That's when they're set to attack." He struggled for breath. "I thought they might want to trade us. Seems they're not much for exchanging prisoners. Live ones, anyway."

  As the young man spoke, Cam did his best to staunch the bleeding, but the warm blood

  drenched his hands. "Lie still."

  "Thank you for what you tried to do, there at the door."

  "My sister always said I was the size of an ox. Figured falling on someone could do some damage. I'm afraid that's the best I could manage."

  "I was proud to serve the king." The young man's voice was faint, and even in the waning light, Cam could see the pallor in the soldier's face.

  "You've served well," Cam said, fighting the lump in his throat. With his good hand, he clasped the soldier's hand tightly as the man began to shiver. "Hang on. I won't let go." "Say a prayer for my soul," the soldier murmured. "There's no family to mourn me." "What's your name? "Siarl."

  "I promise, Siarl." Cam said. He could feel the other's grip growing slack. The soldier drew a long, ragged breath and was still. Cam bowed his head. He had never been observant about the Lady. Carina had made offerings for the both of them, and Cam guessed that his sister also said whatever prayers he might have overlooked. But any man who soldiered more than a few battles knew the prayer for the dead. The words came to him now, and with them, the faces of so many

  friends who lay beneath the battlefields.

  "Let the sword be sheathed, and the helm shuttered. Prepare a feast in the hall of your fallen heroes. Siarl of Isencroft died with valor. Make his passage swift and his journey easy, until his soul rests in the arms of the Lady." His voice broke. Gently, Cam let go of Siarl's hand to make the sign of the Lady over his body. He closed the young man's eyes and laid his hands atop his chest, covering the savage wound.

  Cam drew a deep breath. He had no illusions about the likelihood of rescue. But he would honor Siarl's sacrifice. His hand went to the flint and steel in his pocket. Donelan would have his warning beacon. Siarl would have a pyre worthy of a hero. And Cam of Cairnrach would have his vengeance.

  DAY 5

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It was past noon when Jonmarc awoke. His body still ached from the attack, but his head w
as clear and the pain was manageable. He pulled back the covers and shuddered as the cold air struck him. The fire was banked, and its heat did little to warm the room. Jonmarc dressed quickly. He crossed to the heavy drapes that blocked the sunlight and pulled them back.

  Pristine snow-covered hills stretched out around Wolvenskorn, down to the thick forest. Above it all, a bright blue sky was cloudless. A good day for battle. Tonight, one way or the other, the war with Malesh would end.

  This was supposed to be our wedding day. He stared out across the snow toward the horizon, and his fists balled tightly as he struggled for control. Come dawn, both he and Carina were likely to be dead.

  He turned away from the window and belted on his sword. He strapped on the single arrow launcher, fastening it to his left forearm and fitting it with a fresh arrow. He left his baldric and daggers on the bed, along with his second sword and crossbow. There would be time enough to arm himself later, when they were ready to ride.

  A cold breakfast waited on the nightstand, and a pot of kerif simmered on the coals in the fireplace. Jonmarc finished his food and drank down the kerif greedily, looking to clear the last traces of the attackers' drugs from his system. When no one came to fetch him, Jonmarc let himself into the hallway and followed the sound of voices. The vayash moru would be at rest while the sun was high in the sky, so he assumed that it was vyrkin that he heard.

  Yestin and Vigulf the shaman were the only two Jonmarc recognized as he entered the great room. Twenty-five men looked up as Jonmarc walked in. Yestin and Vigulf greeted him and welcomed him to the table. Platters of roasted venison looked well picked over as Jonmarc waved off offers of food. "I see we've gotten reinforcements," he said to Yestin.

  "I know it doesn't seem like many. But we are fewer than mortals guess. They've sent the women and pups into hiding. These are all the vyrkin males within a two-day's ride of Wolvenskorn. I can give you my word that none of my people have sided with Malesh." Jonmarc could see the fierce pride in Yestin's eyes, even as he noted that the shapeshifter moved with a slight limp, evidence that he was not fully recovered from his injuries. Jonmarc knew better than to comment. Like Yestin, he had no intention of allowing his half-healed wounds to keep him from battle. "And the vayash moru?"