"We had no problem with Blade."
"It is well known that Blade is no fighter, but Scar, by all accounts, is a different matter."
Bellcamp snorted, swinging away to pace the length of the room. "Then we should get rid of Blade. At least that would prevent him from learning more from his cronies."
Mendal shook his head with a sigh. "There is no more to learn. No one else will try to hire an assassin to kill him, and now he has a bodyguard, so he too is a hard target. The Prince has been sent back to the desert, and the war continues unabated, so whatever the Queen had planned to bring about peace has failed. I say we leave well enough alone. Our kidnapping Blade had the unexpected effect of making the Queen send the Prince home, thus breaking off her discussions with Kerrion. There is no point in doing anything more. We have succeeded."
"We have to avenge Mordon's death," Durlan said.
"The Queen ordered it, My Lord, Blade was just the tool. According to our laws, she is responsible. Do you propose to kill her?"
Durlan looked away from Mendal's glassy stare. "Of course not."
"Then I say we lie low and see what develops. Bellcamp will go to Luxborg, where I daresay he will have to spend the remainder of his days, for to return to Jondar would be suicide."
Bellcamp shrugged. "I shall not miss it."
"Good, then we are agreed."
"I will put a price on that bastard's head before I go," Bellcamp avowed. "If he ever comes into the city without his bodyguard, he will die."
"Lord Conash is not to blame," Javare said, breaking his sombre silence. "As Mendal has pointed out, the Queen sanctioned Mordon's death."
"That is not the reason for it," Bellcamp argued, shooting Javare a glare. "If not for Blade, Mordon would be alive. The courts would not have convicted him for trying to kill a Cotti Prince. Because of him, Prince Kerrion was sent back to the desert, and now the threat of him hangs over us like an executioner's axe. We should have killed him when we had the chance. He will only get in our way again."
Mendal shook his head. "Providing the Queen makes no further attempts to stop the war, we have no reason to set ourselves against her."
Bellcamp snorted, raking the advisor with a scathing glance. "You of all people should know that Queen Minna-Satu does not give up so easily."
"She has spoken with Kerrion and failed. What more can she do?"
"I do not know, but I will wager that she will think of something."
"Let us not build any bridges where there are no rivers, My Lord. When we know in which direction she is going, then we can start thinking about how to stop her. Until then, we do nothing."
Two tendays after Blade had recovered from his wounds, the advisor Symion returned from the front with four prospective consorts for the Queen. Although she praised his diligence, the Queen sent Symion away without considering any of the young men, merely ordering that they should be housed in the palace. This puzzled all but Blade, who did not bother to enlighten anyone, not even Chiana, despite her accusing stares, or perhaps because of them.
An uneasy tranquillity settled upon the palace, which deep currents of suspicion and anticipation underscored, as if everyone held their breath. The only one this did not touch was Blade, who ignored the whispers around and about him, going blithely about his business. Several times he gave Lirek the slip long enough to enjoy some solitary drinking, and even once to perform an assassination for a merchant client.
Minna-Satu affected contentment, hiding her unhappiness behind a facade of well-being. Her daily routine went unchanged, though perhaps she showed a little more zeal than previously, as if to provide a distraction from her thoughts. Her countenance remained gloomy, despite the antics of monkey-kin jesters and graceful flamingo-kin dancers.
Blade was exercising in the garden when Chiana appeared through the hedgerows bearing a plain, grubby missive. She paused to admire him in the moment before he revealed that he was aware of her presence, and he raised mocking brows when he turned from his fluid movements to face her. Looking embarrassed, she held out the letter, turning away without a word when he took it.
Blade frowned at her back, wondering why the Queen's chief advisor should be the one to deliver a missive to him, then shrugged it off and tore it open. The scrawl within was barely legible, though written with great care and smudged with dirty fingerprints and tears. Blade sighed as he finished reading it, and raised his head to gaze around at the sunlit garden.
His retainers had rejected Lilu, despite the letter he had given her, which they had dismissed as a forgery. She was now living in someone's barn, working as a milk maid in utter squalor. Her predicament did not unduly trouble him, but her letter gave him a good reason to travel to his estate, which he longed to see. His request to see the Queen was granted, as always, and she smiled at him when he bowed to her.
"My Lord Conash, it is good to see you. Since your remarkable recovery, I have scarcely had your company."
"You are busy, My Queen. I do not wish to intrude."
Minna-Satu waved it away. "You never intrude. Would you care for lunch?"
"No, thank you. I have come about a matter of some importance to myself."
The Queen sighed and sank onto a mound of silken cushions, glancing at the sand cat who slumbered in a patch of late autumn sunlight. Shista's ears and whiskers twitched as she hunted prey in the land of dreams, her paws jerking.
"So," Minna grumbled, "you have not come for the pleasure of my company, but for some favour."
Blade hesitated, surprised by her testy tone and obvious displeasure. Minna glance up at him and gestured to the floor in front of her. "Do not loom over me, Blade, sit."
He settled on a cushion. "I have not come for a favour, My Queen, only to inform you that I shall be visiting my estate."
Minna's brows rose. "To inform me? Not to ask permission?"
"No." Blade leant forward, frowning. "Whatever is troubling you, I ask that you put it aside for the moment. I have done nothing to deserve such rancour."
"No?" Minna jumped up and strode over to the window, staring out. "You have disobeyed me on numerous occasions, defied my wishes and flouted my instructions. You have even refused to answer my questions, for which a lesser man might have lost his head. I, on the other hand, have rewarded you richly, elevated your rank to one of the highest in the land, and saved your life. For all this, you do not see fit to ask my permission to leave? You brashly announce that you will be leaving, without asking me if I can spare you?"
He gazed at her stiff back, noting that her hands were clenched at her sides, and his frown softened. "Why do you not write to him?"
Her shoulders slumped. "And say what?"
"Ask if he is well, tell him of your unhappiness and of his child."
She turned to face him, looking defeated. "You are far too perceptive. It will get you into trouble one of these days." She sighed. "I cannot write to him, my letters would never reach him."
"Kerrion is a man of eagles, his familiar is a desert eagle. An eagle could bear a message to him and bring his to you. All you need is a man or woman of eagles who you can trust to have their familiar carry the missive."
She returned to sit on her cushions once more, her eyes dark with sadness. "How long will you be gone?"
He shrugged. "Not too long."
"You will be back before the winter storms begin? Once they do, the roads will be impassable."
Blade nodded, hiding his reluctance. "Of course."
"I will have need of you once my condition becomes known. People will suspect, there will be much speculation. My enemies will plot against me again."
"Unless you give them no reason to." She shot him a puzzled glance, and he elaborated, "If you take one of the consorts to your room, they will assume -"
"No. I cannot do that."
"He has only to sleep on the floor, so long as you can trust him. It will buy you some time, allay their suspicions until they realise that the consort could not be the
father of your child."
She considered this, her eyes flicking over his face. "You are clever, Blade, though your cleverness does seem rather underhand. I do not like stooping to such measures, deceiving those around me with charades and lies. I shall, however, think on the matter, for it is my child's life that is at stake here, not mine."
For several minutes she appeared lost in thought, and he waited until she became aware of his presence once more and said, "Go to your estate then. All is quiet here for now, but return before the winter storms. I shall give you a company of men to guard you, for there are perils on the journey."
Blade did not want a company of men, but saw no point in arguing the matter. The Queen could be implacable at times, and he sensed that this was one of them. Instead, he rose and bowed.
"My Queen."
She inclined her head. "Safe journey, My Lord Conash."
Chapter Fifteen
Kerrion returned to his desert city in a glorious fashion. Thousands lined the way to his palace, cheering and tossing precious flowers in his path. He wondered at the hero's welcome bestowed upon a prince who had been the Jashimari Queen's prisoner and released at her behest. There was nothing heroic about his ignominious return to the desert, dressed in Jashimari clothes and riding a steed the Queen had provided. Upon reaching the Cotti camp, he had almost been shot before he was recognised. The well hidden, pitying looks of his senior officers had annoyed him greatly. In their eyes, at least, his captivity had reduced his stature.
Once dressed in Cotti clothes again, he was joyously reunited with his familiar, Kiara, who had been caged during his absence to prevent her from following him and being killed. Fortunately the officer who had discovered his abduction had had the foresight to cage the bird before she had woken on that fateful morning. With her perched upon his shoulder once more, he had compounded his unpopularity in the eyes of his men by announcing that he wished to have a Jashimari slave, and ordered that all the slaves in the camp be brought for his inspection. Twenty dull-eyed boys and fifteen frightened girls were brought before him. Kerrion ordered that they be taken to the mountain pass and released, which evoked angry muttering from some of his bolder officers. He informed them that slavery was banned under his rule, and any slaves found would be released and their owners punished. A few officers voiced protests to this, but his glare silenced them.
Three days later, he had set off on the two tenday journey to the city, where he would face his brothers and the ordeal of his coronation. The pale metropolis shimmered in the heat, its buildings built primarily from white stone or whitewashed to reflect the fierce sun. Tall palms shaded the wide, paved roads, and patches of verdure grew next to mansions and temples. Awnings protruded from shops to cool their bland interiors and invite the heat stricken to enter their tempting shade. The throngs of sun-bronzed Cotti that lined the way to wave and cheer their prince provided thirsty patrons for roadside inns and tea houses after he passed.
Kerrion still wore the silver circlet of a prince as he reined in his horse before the sweeping marble steps that led to the pillared archways of his father's great palace. The tall, gilded domes glowed in the sun atop pale walls built by master crafters in a previous age. He dismounted before the roaring crowds that cordons of soldiers held at bay, and turned once to wave before mounting the steps, his officers flanking him. The noise was left behind as he entered the cool, bare halls of the palace, a building that had outgrown its furnishings and whose grandeur was marked by an echoing emptiness, apart from a few cosy rooms. The scarcity of wood made it impossible to fill the many chambers with anything other than stone statues and a few paintings.
Liveried servants bowed and took his dusty white cloak, brushing sand from his tunic with its silver sun emblem, while others ushered him towards his private apartments. He did not expect to reach them unmolested, and was not surprised when Lerton appeared to confront him with a supercilious sneer. His younger brother, resplendent in foppish finery of pale yellow linen with gold trappings, bowed mockingly.
"Welcome home, Sire," he jeered.
Kerrion frowned, his fatigue making him curt. "I am not in the mood for your antics, Lerton. I am tired and I want a bath. Get out of my way."
Lerton hopped aside. "Whatever you say, Sire, your word is my command."
Kerrion stalked past, annoyed by his derision. Kiara spread her wings to keep her balance on his shoulder.
Lerton fell into step beside him. "Did you enjoy the hospitality of the Jashimari Queen?"
"I was a prisoner."
Lerton laughed. "Aye, taken prisoner by a woman!"
Kerrion stopped and swung to face his brother, causing Kiara's claws to dig into his shoulder. Lerton eyed him, and the various retainers stepped back. Because they had different mothers, Lerton was a mere two moons younger than Kerrion. He took after his father, a broad bear of a man, despite being the kin of snakes. His familiar, a pale golden stone snake with enough venom to give a man a bad headache, was coiled around his neck like an ornament. The half-brothers looked nothing alike, for Lerton owned blunt features that were at odds with Kerrion's fine, aquiline looks, and the younger Prince's almost white hair contrasted with his dark brown eyes.
"Is that what everyone thinks?" Kerrion demanded.
"It is true." Lerton shrugged, looking smug.
"No, it is a lie, which you probably made up. I was kidnapped by a man disguised as a woman, a skilful assassin who also killed our father."
Lerton snorted. "You were seen walking off into the desert with a whore, and you went willingly."
"I had a knife at my ribs, you fool."
"So you say, but of course you would." Lerton looked disparaging. "Who would admit to such a demeaning capture?"
"And do you also think that our father was killed by a woman?"
"No one knows who killed him. Perhaps it was you, so you could run off with your whore and consort with the Jashimari Queen."
Kerrion's eyes narrowed as he saw the thrust of Lerton's accusations and their danger. If enough people believed his brother, Kerrion could be denounced as a traitor. "You lying little worm," he snarled. "If that was true, I would not have returned."
"But you had to claim your crown. You are nothing without it."
Kerrion glanced around at the gaggle of servants who stood blank-faced, absorbing every word, and mustered his poise. To allow Lerton to goad him into a public outburst would be ill advised, and was exactly what his brother was trying to do. Kerrion forced an indulgent smile.
"And you would dearly like to get your hands on it, would you not? No doubt you have regaled any who would listen with this ridiculous story. Be careful your desperation does not lead to anything that may be seen as treason, Lerton. I would not like to see my little brother on the gallows for making false accusations and spreading malicious lies about me. If there are any doubts about what happened in father's camp, let the courts accuse me. It is not your place to do so."
Lerton stood stunned as Kerrion turned away, then trotted after him again. "Rest assured, there will be an enquiry, brother. No one will believe that a woman killed father. Trying to blame it on the whore he slept with that night is folly. Your claim that she was a man is ridiculous. Many of the officers observed her that night, and none doubt her sex."
"That is what makes him so successful, idiot. How am I to prove the truth of my words? Would you have me call him as a witness?"
Lerton giggled, clearly delighted by this suggestion. "Of course that is impossible, since he does not exist. All the killers the Jashimari bitch sent failed, so you decided to do it yourself and blame it on some non-existent assassin who looks like a woman. That is a tall story for anyone to swallow. Could you not think of a better one?"
"Sometimes the truth sounds more far-fetched than the tallest tale, but that does not make it a lie."
"You had better start thinking of a better story than that. The council of judges will never believe such a ludicrous yarn."
A
rriving at the door to his chambers, Kerrion turned to face his younger brother. Blade, he thought angrily, was too good at his work, so much so that the blame was now being laid at his own doorstep. "I have never been eager to sit on the Cotti throne. That has always been your greatest ambition. If I did not know that the Jashimari Queen sent that assassin, I might be tempted to accuse you of it."
Lerton blanched, stepping back. "I was here in the city when it happened."
"There are plenty of assassins for hire."
"None who would kill their king!"
"Not a Cotti, but a Jashimari or Contara assassin would be eager for the work. A simple matter of sending a messenger to find a suitable man. Everyone has a price, and you have access to almost unlimited funds, though not for much longer." Kerrion stepped closer to his brother. "Once I am King, I intend to restrict your powers, since you only use them for ill. Think long and hard about what you are doing before you incur my wrath. You may live to regret it, if you make an enemy of the future King. I would advise you to leave me alone right now, my mood is not good after the long journey."
Kerrion left his brother gaping at him, shocked speechless by this blatant threat. Before Lerton could muster his thoughts, servants closed the doors. Kerrion placed Kiara on her perch, then crossed the room to splash his face in a basin of water. The servants unbuckled his armour and stripped off the various royal trappings he had worn for his return to the city. Curtained doors on one side of the room opened onto the palace's inner garden, which spanned the area between the royal apartments and the harem on the far side of the square. A feast of fruit and cold meat awaited him on a table, and he went over to sample it as the retainers finished their tasks and retreated. With a sigh, he sat on one of the finely crafted wooden chairs and nibbled a grape, frowning.
The movement of a curtain caught his attention, for no wind blew in through the open doors. He froze, his hand dropping to the jewelled hilt of the dagger in his belt.
"Come out, or I will call the guards."
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