Heddas Sword.jpg

by Hedda's Sword (lit)

  Cianan's blood turned to ice in his veins, and he felt Kikeona's sudden tension. He had not done anything to bring the watch's attention to himself.

  "Unless standing up for that drifter was a crime." Kikeona sounded a bit shaky.

  "What's he done?" Cary demanded.

  "Queen Sunniva herself wants a word."

  "He means to destroy this place if you do not show."

  "Well, at least I got to finish my supper first." Cianan turned to the man. "I am Cianan."

  The man looked him over, and his lip curled further. "Come. I wouldn't keep our sovereign waitin'."

  "Looks like I get to see who is in charge of this misbegotten land, and sooner than we thought. Stay with me, partner. We may have to leave in a hurry."

  She snorted. "I should like to see them try to keep up."

  "Let's go." The night watchman approached with chains.

  "Am I under arrest?"

  "Our sovereign insisted ye appear 'fore her."

  Cianan allowed the cuffs. The locks clicked. He could break them, but the flash of power would negate the seeming, and he would be in trouble. "I am all yours. Lead the way."

  He wished Lord Elio was here to watch his back. He glanced over his shoulder on his way out the door.

  Every man in the Broken Blade looked like they would never see him again.

  Chapter Three

  Cianan's chains rattled as the night watch dragged him through the mud on Soto's deserted stone-paved streets. Kikeona stayed a reassuring warmth in the back of his mind. "Recon, ranger," she reminded him from her stall. He straightened his shoulders. This presented a perfect opportunity to determine if Sunniva was the source of all the troubles.

  He always preferred firsthand information to hearsay.

  A prickling at the back of his neck announced another presence, normally a welcome one. The crown of Cymry allowed Loren to stay in touch with his people with but a thought, regardless of distance. Now, Cianan feared his empathic best friend might misconstrue the whole situation.

  "Chains?" Loren demanded. "What happened?"

  Loren's mental bellow reverberated in Cianan's mind, making him wince. "Take it easy. This gentleman is escorting me to Queen Sunniva."

  "In chains?"

  Cianan tried to make light of the twinge of uneasiness in his gut. "The men she summons do not always present themselves for her inspection. Mayhaps she is an old hag."

  "So you are not a prisoner?"

  "My fool of a gaoler thinks I am, but I can break these chains at any time and Kikeona is with me. Worry not, I have them right where I want them. Well, almost." Cianan sobered. "I have heard disturbing things about this queen and the goings-on in her realm. Trust me, I have the situation well in hand."

  "I do trust you. The Lady does not choose Her champions lightly. But forgive my concern for my friend."

  "There is naught to forgive. King or nay, you are my best friend on two legs."

  Kikeona snorted. So did Loren. "If you need me, I shall know." Loren withdrew.

  Once Loren left, Cianan's momentary bravado fled. He shivered in the wind, unable to wrap his cloak around himself with his hands bound. He was not about to ask the night watch for assistance, nor make a move that might call his submission into question.

  Sunniva's winter palace loomed closer. Hundreds of torches blazed, making the white stone and stained glass windows glow in the dark. He could tell it was a new building, of the finest materials and workmanship.

  A pair of guards at the gate barred their way. "Step aside," the watchman growled. "Queen Sunniva requested his presence."

  Cianan saw the men smirk. Afore he could discern the reason, they yanked him up the stairs into the main hall. Four fireplaces, one on each wall, burned high. The sheer opulence gave Cianan pause. The number and variety of colorful tapestries, curtains and carpets made his eyes water. Gold gilded the ceiling. A peacock throne cushioned in teal velvet stood on a dais at the end of the hall.

  The guards stood stripped to the waist in the overheated room. Cianan began to perspire in his cloak. The corner scribe sat cross-legged on the floor and bare-chested. All the men were young and fit, not a greybeard in sight. Cold green eyes stared down at him from the oversized oil painting hung above the throne. Queen Sunniva, no doubt. He took back his hag statement, but found nothing attractive about her. A chill went up his spine despite the roaring fires. Stunning, but with a petulant mouth and eyes that could freeze a man's soul.

  Another soldier approached Cianan and the night watchman who had dragged him here. From the man's military bearing Cianan sized him up as an officer. "Check him for weapons."

  Cianan bore the search stoically. He had been through far worse in his long career.

  "One way t' ensure he's harmless," the watchman growled.

  "True." The officer smirked. "Disrobe."

  Cianan froze. He glanced at the portrait, then the guards, wondering if she made fat sixty-year-old merchants strip afore approaching her. He unfastened his cloak and dropped it to the ground, then held up his bound hands.

  The watchman's eyes narrowed.

  "How am I to remove the tunic with manacles?"

  The watchman snickered. "We'll cut it off."

  "Cut it off, and what am I to wear when I leave?"

  "Who said ye're leaving, dog?"

  Kikeona's presence flared. "That does not sound hopeful."

  "Relax, I am still unharmed." To the guards he said, "I am flattered you think that, unarmed, I could rush through Queen Sunniva's best warriors and make it to the door. Why would I leave afore seeing her? You want the tunic off and I would like it in one piece. Put the chains back on afterward."

  The officer shrugged and unlocked the cuffs. "Be quick about it."

  Cianan pulled the tunic over his head. Now he knew the reason for all the fireplaces.

  "Breeches an' boots, too, lad."

  Cianan winced. "You mean for me to stand naked afore your queen?"

  "Nay, she means for ye t' kneel, fully disarmed. I know what I stash in my boots."

  "Thank the Lady your real weapons are here," Kikeona said. "You shall lose those knives."

  Goddess, he hated this. "I shall never live this down."

  "I shall never tell."

  Cianan stripped off the breeches and boots, as ordered. The floor itself felt warm, for all the hard marble. He wondered at the contradiction. It felt odd to stand in public in naught but his loincloth. He sighed as he handed the man his boots and watched the officer withdraw the two throwing dirks.

  The man hefted the blades. "The balance is perfect. I believe I'll keep these." The blades disappeared into hidden sheaths in his gauntlets. He reshackled Cianan's wrists and turned to one of the other guards. "Tell our sovereign the prisoner has been disarmed."

  "And disrobed," Kikeona commented.

  The curtains at the far end of the hall parted and the dark-haired woman from the painting entered. Every man in the room rose, bowed low. Cianan caught a quick impression of an utter, almost religious devotion on their faces.

  "Kneel afore yer sovereign!" The night watchman slammed the length of his spear across the back of Cianan's knees. Cianan muffled a grunt of pain as his legs buckled and he dropped onto the unyielding tiles.

  Glittering in layers of gold-stitched purple silk, she strode forward, back stiff as a pike, leading with her chin. He sensed her cold arrogance and moral decay through an aura the dulled red of drying blood. Her cloying perfume, blood roses and cloves over ambergris, enveloped him as she approached.

  "You sent for me, Majesty?"

  The spear butt whacked against the back of his head. "Silence! Ye'll answer when yer sovereign gives ye leave t' speak!"

  Cianan shook his head to clear it. His eyes narrowed; he wearied of getting struck. "At the risk of courting yet another blow, may I point out it is unfair to punish someone for breaking a rule explained after the transgression has occurred?" Sensing movement behind him, he braced himself f
or the retaliatory blow, but it never came.

  "He has a point," Sunniva conceded. She had the throaty voice of a practiced seductress. A whore with a crown. "You're not from around here, are you?"

  He grimaced, willing his distaste not to show on his face. "Nay, Majesty."

  "The title is sovereign. You're Cianan, a mercenary from the south."

  "My name is Cianan, Sovereign. I fought in the south, but I am from east of here."

  "So I've been told." Sunniva waved her hand. "Watchman, you may go."

  Cianan raised his head to find himself eye-level with royal cleavage. She stood shorter than he had thought. Rather than dropping his gaze to the floor, he looked higher, daring to meet her gaze.

  She lifted a haughty brow. Her green eyes narrowed. "Are you familiar at all with royalty in your own lands?"

  Cianan thought of Loren and Dara. "I am."

  "How do you greet and address your own?"

  "With a bow and a direct gaze to show honorable intent. Only those with something to hide look away."

  "Here you will show the proper respect." She glared at him. "I've heard of your demonstration. You've been giving lessons to those protecting criminals in my realm."

  "Careful," Kikeona warned.

  Cianan frowned, also sensing a trap. "I do not work for the dealers."

  "Nay, but you work with and train those who do."

  Cianan thought that hypocritical, considering Sunniva's forty percent cut off the top of each and every clandestine, as well as legitimate, interaction. "I must make a living, and feed my horse."

  "Ah, aye, I've also heard of your... animal." Her lip curled.

  "Ooh, I would love to show her what I am capable of!"

  "Easy, partner." He turned his attention to the queen. "You hear much."

  "I know everything that goes on in my kingdom, and beyond."

  Cianan caught the lie. "You wish me to stop teaching?"

  "I'd have your talents in the service of the crown."

  "You are already in the service of the crown. Just not hers. Arrogant bitch."

  "You invited me here to offer me a job?"

  She looked him up and down with daunting avarice. Where her gaze lingered made him shiver with dread. "Your talents are wasted on the guild. I'll have you in my guard."

  Cianan wanted to groan. Become one of those underdressed marionettes, forced to dance attendance on a selfish, spoiled monarch with none but her own interests at heart?

  "Where she can keep an eye on you," Kikeona commented.

  He frowned. "More than that, I think."

  "Where you can keep an eye on her?"

  He considered. Sunniva hid something. "Partner?"

  "She does not have your best interests at heart. All I know is she intends to use you for some specific purpose, and not just to join her little harem."

  "Just?" Cianan grimaced. "You jest."

  "Nay."

  "You should be honored." Sunniva stepped closer. "Don't you find your queen beautiful?"

  Cianan thought of gold eyes and red hair. Dara. His true queen. "Aye." But this one? Sunniva's eyes were the same shade as the green tree viper of the Shadowlands back home – eye-catching from a distance, but deadly up close. His eyes watered and he swallowed to keep from choking. He wished she would take her perfumed breasts elsewhere.

  Three different women had tried to seduce him in as many days, and he had found none of them appealing. Mayhaps the most notorious ladies' man in Poshnari-Unai turned over a new moral leaf. No one back home would believe it.

  Her smile was all teeth. "Join us, and become part of the greatest army in the world. I have great dreams for this country and my people. We can make it worth your while."

  Cianan wondered what said dreams entailed, and why she built up her army. There could only be one reason. Expansion. And the only direction for little northern Shamar to advance was south. Into Arcadia. Into Riverhead. Into Dara's former home. His heart turned to ice.

  Had he been here in Shamar but three days? It felt a lifetime. Were he a true mercenary, he would have jumped at this chance. However, he had a different mission. Signing up would let him investigate the palace, but he remained wary of this unfamiliar enemy.

  The Shamari queen's voice broke into his thoughts. "Come. A toast to your new allegiance." The guard officer handed her two goblets, and she held the left one out to Cianan.

  Cianan felt Kikeona's sudden alarm. "What is it?" he asked.

  "Cloudwort. A great mind-weakening drug for humans – like dreamwine, but without the painkilling and sleep effects."

  "And for our kind?"

  "It shall not affect your mind. But it shall make you sick. It affects a small number of humans the same way, so you shall not arouse any suspicion. Leastwise, you shall not have to worry about her inviting you to her bedchamber anytime soon."

  "How comforting." Cianan's stomach already clenched in anticipation of the potion. He turned the goblet in his hands, watching the ripples on the surface of the potion, but did not see any way to avoid it. Sunniva would not take no for an answer. He envisioned a sword in the back for outright refusal. He raised his glass: "To my new future," and drank it down.

  He tasted nothing but spiced red wine, and took a deep breath as he braced himself. The edges of his vision began to shimmer and Sunniva's form wavered. The sound of surf pounded in his ears... and it struck. Fire tore through him, and he clutched his stomach. Sunniva jumped back as the drugged wine and his supper hurled back up.

  "I warned ye this could happen," the guard said from a hundred leagues away.

  "Get him out of here." Sunniva's voice dripped disgust over something else. Something that almost sounded like... disappointment. "Put him under locked guard. We'll deal with him later."

  "Aye, Sovereign." He and another guard dragged Cianan for what felt like an eternity in the seven goblin hells, until they reached a tiny room. He barely registered the cot afore darkness overwhelmed the pain, and he passed out.

  * * * *

  Aquamarine eyes wreathed in flame. Twisted, blackened trees and a boiling river of blood. Marigolds of bronze with snarling wolf faces pinned to the tattered cloaks of advancing skeletons...

  Cianan's eyes snapped open. That cursed dream again. His throat burned and the taste in his mouth did not bear thinking about. Where were his clothes? Then he remembered.

  Sunniva.

  He rose, weak and shaking, to his feet. He had to get moving. Lady, but he ached!

  "Are you all right?" Kikeona demanded.

  He grimaced. "I believe I shall live. When you said that brew would make me ill, I had no idea how ill."

  "Neither did I. I reached Hani`ena to warn King Loren of what transpired. You had best contact him."

  Cianan sent his mind eastward. "Loren?"

  The blaze of concern knocked him right onto his backside. The thin mattress caught him. "Are you out of your mind?"

  Cianan flinched. "The worst is over. I shall live."

  "You need to get out of there."

  "This room, aye." Cianan wanted nothing more. "The palace? Not yet. She is plotting something. She mentioned building her army. There is only one reason."

  "Expansion," Loren agreed. "There is only one direction this Sunniva can go. South, straight into Arcadia."

  "Warn Hengist to go on alert. I cannot leave yet. I need to find out more." Some clothes would not hurt, either.

  "Dara shall go mad. The last thing Hengist needs is another war. They are still recovering from the last one with Jalad. Be careful, ranger. Strength in the Light." Loren withdrew.

  "Can you walk?" Kikeona asked.

  His head pounded and his sides ached, but he could walk. At least across the floor from the bed to the window. "What time is it?"

  "An hour afore false dawn."

  Time to escape. He needed someone to open the door. Cianan leaned into the iron bars across the window – prison bars disguised as decorative latticework. He tested them, but th
ey did not budge. But he managed to reach the latch on the shutters and flip it back. The wind jerked the shutter out of his grasp, slamming it into the wall. He shivered as the wind blew over him, but at least it cleared his head, and chased the sour smell of vomit from the room. He stared at the ground, three stories down and shimmering with frost. "Well, I shall not go out the window."

  "Were you planning to fly?"

  "Wait and see." Cianan stood, shivering, and waited.

  As if on cue, the door opened and in strode one of Sunniva's guards. Cianan's heart sank at the guard's short stature. Was it too much to hope for clothes that fit? Eyes half-closed, he slumped against the bars and tried to look weak.

  "Be ready. On my signal, lend me some power."

  The guard approached to within two horse-lengths and stopped, frowning at Cianan. "Are ye mad, openin' th' window? It's freezin' out there, an' now in here!"

  Cianan slid farther down the wall. His leg muscles coiled as he prepared to strike. He groaned. "Too hot."

  "That's all I need." The guard closed the distance to Cianan's side and closed a hand around one arm.

  "Now, partner!"

  Kikeona flung Goddess-power at Cianan.

  Heat and strength flooded Cianan's body. He struck the guard in the throat to prevent the smaller man from crying out. When the guard staggered back, shock in his widening eyes, Cianan spun, catching him in the temple with his heel. The man dropped to the ground and Cianan stripped off his boots, breeches and weapons belt. He sucked in a breath as he tugged the breeches over his own hips. The black leather threatened to split at the seams and the legs were too short, but they were better than nothing. He buckled the weapons belt over the breeches, which refused to close fully. At least he rearmed. He dragged the unconscious guard over to the bed and dumped him in, covering him up with the blanket against the growing cold. Hopefully seeing an unconscious dark-haired body in the cot would delay a search long enough for him to get away.

  "Are you going to tell him a bedtime story too?" Kikeona's acerbic voice taunted. "Move!"

  Cianan tried cramming his feet into the other man's boots. No luck – they were far too small. Cursing under his breath, Cianan strode barefooted to the opened doorway and peered out. No one. He slipped into the hall, closing and barring the door behind him.