The Challenge: Circle of Conspiracy Trilogy (Artesans Series Book 4)

by Cas Peace

  Reen settled smugly back in his chair. He regarded the young man before him, well aware that this was Parren’s real goal. What he was about to hand him would be honed and sharpened into a very effective killing tool. Of that, he was sure.

  “What do you do to someone you are unable to hurt physically?” he mused, as if to himself. “How do you damage them without implicating or risking yourself?”

  “Well?” demanded Parren, eagerness overcoming manners.

  “Don’t be so impatient, young man. You will learn, in time, that careful planning and prudent management can allow you to exert influence where it is least expected. Over members of the King’s forces, for example. Even over people such as those you despise.”

  Parren’s face showed doubt. “What? You can exert influence over Sullyan and Tamsen? What kind of influence? How?”

  The Baron shook his head and smiled. “Never you mind! You want to know how to hurt these people?” He held out his hand before Parren’s face and slowly clenched his fingers into a fist. “You take and destroy something they value. You strip them of something precious!”

  Satisfaction swelled his heart as he saw Parren’s answering smile.

  *****

  Robin woke languidly the next morning, a little later than usual. Reveille was never sounded when the Manor had royal guests. The men were all roused by their sergeants, and senior officers were supposed to be disciplined enough not to need rousing, although their valets could always be relied upon when necessary. But Robin had been on duty until late the previous night and had no intention of being woken too early.

  A slight sound disturbed him and he rolled over in the bed he shared with Sullyan. She had been soundly asleep when he came in, looking worn by her recent experiences as well as the aftermath of a long debriefing with General Blaine. She hadn’t even stirred as Robin settled to sleep against her. He reached out an arm for her now, but she wasn’t there.

  Opening his eyes, he saw that she was fully dressed and the faint sound he had heard was made as she buckled her sword belt. Watching her appreciatively and feeling the warm stirrings of passion—he had missed her while they were apart—he raised himself on one elbow and smiled. But the warmth in his eyes faded as he took in her pallor and worried expression.

  Without thinking, he asked, “What’s wrong, love?”

  “What is wrong?” Her voice was sharp with rare irritation, making him frown. “You ask me that? Two serious incidents, both of which could have cost the King his life in as many days. Two! Both could only have been executed by a powerful Artesan. Both were nearly successful, and both were carried out right under my nose! How can you ask me what is wrong?”

  She swung away from him. “Someone is laughing at us, Robin. Playing with us. I do not like it. Add to that the fact that I lost one of my oldest and dearest friends yesterday under circumstances I should have prevented, and I think you might understand my mood today.”

  He slid from the bed and came to hold her, alarmed by her manner. Her temper was mercurial, it was true, but it was rarely turned on him. It was also unlike her to be so rattled by events, although he appreciated the gravity of the situation.

  She wouldn’t allow him to comfort her. “I must attend the King and the General again this morning,” she said, “and I suggest you prepare to do the same. There will be a diplomatic mission to the Hierarch very shortly. We have to understand what is happening before more life is lost.”

  She left abruptly, leaving Robin puzzled and more than a little hurt by her tone. In truth, he was becoming concerned. This wasn’t the first time she had spoken coldly to him or rejected his loving advances. On quite a few mornings over the past weeks, maybe even months, if he thought about it, she had been less than enthusiastic when he wanted to share his love. He was even starting to wonder if she was cooling toward him. Yet at other times she was very passionate, and he was confused as to what was causing such strange moods.

  For the moment, he pushed his concerns to the back of his mind, although the small worm of doubt refused to vanish completely.

  *****

  Humming tunelessly in a rare good humor, Captain Parren strolled toward the stables in the morning sunshine. He was rolling the two gold rings over and over in one hand, and now and then he glanced down and smiled thoughtfully. Today promised to be a good day and, he hoped, the start of many more.

  He was casually stalking the olive-skinned young man who had walked here a few minutes earlier. He knew his quarry would return this way, it was the only track leading back to the College. Satisfied, he leaned on the rails of an empty paddock and put the rings back in his pocket. After ten minutes or so he drew his sword, making a show of inspecting the blade. He suppressed a smile as he heard the other man returning.

  From the corner of his eye, Parren watched the young man come down the track. Ozella had seen him, of course, but was taking no notice. As he approached Parren, he gave the lean officer a slight nod and made to walk on past. He was brought up short as Parren whipped his sword across his path, blocking his progress.

  Ozella started in surprise. “What did you do that for?”

  Parren grinned and sheathed the weapon. He had Ozella’s attention now. He beckoned and Ozella came closer, indignant but still curious. Parren reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the rings. He held them out on the palm of his hand.

  Ozella frowned, and then his almond eyes widened. He went pale. “Where did you get those?” He grabbed for the two rings, but Parren was too quick and snatched his hand away.

  “Not so fast, my foreign friend. You recognize them, then?”

  “Of course I recognize them. They belong to my sisters! What are you doing with them?”

  Parren was silent a moment, giving Ozella’s annoyance and apprehension time to build. He dropped the rings back into his pocket.

  “Well, now,” he said smoothly, “let’s just say I’m holding them for safe-keeping.”

  Ozella turned even paler. His skin took on an unhealthy hue and his dark eyes grew larger. “What do you mean? Why would they need safe-keeping?”

  Parren turned lazily and leant his weight on the rail. “Well, you wouldn’t want them stolen now, would you? And the men holding your sisters are most unscrupulous where gold is concerned. And not only gold, of course.” He turned to gaze at Ozella, a chilling expression on his face.

  The young man swallowed, looking suddenly nauseous. He turned trapped eyes to Parren’s. “But why are you holding them? What do you want from me?”

  Parren showed his teeth. “Very good, my friend, you catch on fast. It’s a shame you’re not so quick to learn your lessons here, isn’t it?”

  “What are you talking about?” Ozella was plainly confused by the change of subject. “What have lessons got to do with my sisters? Why have they been taken? Where are they? You bastard, you’d better not have harmed them!”

  Anger suddenly overcoming fear, Ozella grabbed at Parren’s shoulder. The Captain was ready for him and had the point of his sword resting against Ozella’s sternum before the younger man realized he had moved. Staring mutely down the length of steel and then up into Parren’s intense glare, Ozella saw death and a lack of choices. He sagged.

  “Please, just tell me they’re all right,” he begged, his voice sounding knotted and painful. “I love my sisters. They’re so young….”

  Parren weighed his capitulation and found it satisfactory. He sheathed his sword. Ozella would come to rue his lack of application to swordplay as much as he would his other failings, Parren was sure. He turned his back on Ozella to show how little he feared him. The younger man made no move.

  “So far,” said Parren, his tone nonchalant, “they are unharmed. Their continuing health and well-being, however, depends on you.”

  Parren could almost hear the defeat in Ozella before he spoke. “What is it you want?”

  Parren turned his head. “Nothing too onerous, I assure you.” His kept his tone mildly friendly, hopin
g to unsettle Ozella further. “Information, my friend, that’s what I want. The use of your eyes and ears. And the assurance of your loyal, and silent, compliance.”

  “Information about what?”

  Ozella asked the question automatically. He was trapped and he clearly knew it. All he needed now was the means to keep his sisters safe. As soon as he realized what was happening, Parren was sure he would do whatever he was asked to guarantee their release.

  Parren grinned broadly. He was experiencing a raw and heady sense of power. He would repay them all for passing him over! He was a good soldier and an even better officer. He should easily have been a major by now. Twice, his promotion had been blocked by Robin Tamsen, and he nurtured festering grievances with Sullyan that went back years. They came surging to the surface as he reviewed them, and an almost orgasmic pleasure swamped him as he anticipated his just revenge.

  Wrenching himself from these gratifying thoughts, he proceeded to tell Ozella precisely how to ensure his sisters’ safety.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Inauguration Day for the new College, but the morning was taken up by a hastily convened meeting between General Blaine, King Elias, and Colonel Sullyan. Sullyan had already told the General of the suspicions she had formed in Port Loxton, and also of her fear that substrate communications might not be as secure as they thought. She needed to discuss these fears with Elias so the three of them took breakfast in Blaine’s private apartments, something not even Sullyan had ever done before.

  Blaine’s suite was on the third floor of the Manor, along with Vassa’s rooms and the senior officers’ hall. It consisted of a functional but comfortable sleeping room, a small privy and washroom, a cooking area which Sullyan thought was hardly ever used as she prepared fellan there, and a large living room furnished with comfortable chairs and couches. Blaine’s valet, Hyram, was stationed outside the door with strict instructions to admit only those expressly summoned, and the thick stone walls and sheer three-story drop outside would ensure there was no danger of their being overheard. In addition to these precautions, both Blaine and Sullyan had their shields down tight.

  Sullyan was thankful that her stomach was behaving itself as she was in desperate need of fellan. She only felt fatigued, although she was still plagued by the tingling sensation in her left forearm which, inexplicably, had now begun to affect her right. Some of her temper with Robin that morning had its roots in this strange discomfort.

  She brought a tray of cups through to the living area and placed it on a low oak table. She served Elias and Blaine before taking her own drink, and then seated herself on a wooden chair facing her monarch and commanding officer. They both thanked her, and an uneasy silence fell as they sat sipping the scalding fellan.

  As was often the case, Sullyan spoke first. “With your permission, your Majesty, General?” The two men nodded. She laid aside her cup and faced Elias. “Taking all the known evidence into account, and especially following the incident at the horse race and yesterday’s attack, I think we must now accept that the perpetrator of these events and the person responsible for creating the Staff and backing Lord Rykan are either the same person or part of the same group.”

  Elias regarded her sourly. She ignored his displeasure. “We all agreed last year that there had to be almost limitless funds behind this plot, and it is now also clear that this is not merely someone with a grudge against Artesans or their supporters. The two attempts on your life prove it is far more serious than that.”

  Blaine cleared his throat. “In the light of what Colonel Sullyan has told me, Elias, I cannot but agree with her conclusions. If not for your patronage, Artesans would stand no chance of overcoming the people’s prejudice. You are our only champion. Removing you would seriously jeopardize the few advancements we have made, and if an Artesan was implicated in your death I doubt any of us would survive the reprisals.”

  The King sat in silence. His eyes strayed to Sullyan and she held his gaze as she spoke again.

  “Both these attempts, your Majesty, were undeniably the work of a skilled and powerful Artesan. The fact that on neither occasion could I detect any traces of the controlling psyche is a source of great concern to me.”

  Blaine was clearly troubled by this too, but Elias had no knowledge of the history of Artesans and scant understanding of the craft.

  “There’s no need to be so formal, Brynne,” he said absently, unsettled by what he had heard. “This isn’t an official state meeting. Why does being unable to detect the Artesan concern you so?”

  “Maybe it should be an official state meeting, your Majesty,” she responded. That drew a sharp look from Elias. She turned to Blaine without answering the King’s question. “General, might I suggest we mount an immediate diplomatic mission to the Hierarch of Andaryon? First, to offer our sympathy for the recent destruction caused by Albian raiders—your Majesty, some sort of recompense from the Treasury might be politic and would be much appreciated, I am sure—and second, to officially enlist his aid in finding whoever was responsible for the attacks. Someone gave the Albian raiders metaphysical access to his realm, and as our attackers yesterday were undeniably Andaryan, Pharikian has to take some measure of responsibility.”

  General Blaine nodded and she turned back to Elias.

  “Forgive me, your Majesty, but before I voice my suspicions concerning our enemy, I would like to confer with Timar. Due to his great age and the fact that Andaryon has always encouraged the Artesan craft, he knows much more of our history than I do. He might be able to throw some light on a matter which has been puzzling me. I would also like to ask whether he has been able to locate any of Rykan’s former nobles, as they may possess valuable information. And a visit to Lord Marik might be advisable, to see if he discovered any clues in Rykan’s records as to his accomplices.”

  “You’re convinced he wasn’t acting alone, then?” asked Elias, curiosity overriding unease. He leaned back in his chair, stretching long legs in russet-red breeches. In a simple cream shirt with his sandy-blond hair falling in his eyes, he appeared much younger than his thirty-one years.

  “He plainly was not, your Majesty,” she pointed out. “Otherwise these recent attacks would not have occurred. No, there is someone more than powerful behind all this, someone not only with a high-ranking Artesan’s power at his command, but also that of State.”

  “State?” Elias sat up abruptly. “Why do you say that?”

  “I say it because of the amount of gold I believe changed hands over the creation of the Staff. And also because of the attempts on your life.”

  “Explain,” snapped the King, disturbed.

  Sullyan lowered her gaze. This would not be easy. The dreadful suspicion planted in her mind by Denny would not go away and needed airing, if only to eliminate it. But it would not be well received. She raised her eyes to the King, determined to face his ire as best she could. She had volunteered for this. She already felt she had failed Elias, so she was the obvious choice to broach such a painful line of enquiry. Even so, she couldn’t just blurt it out.

  “Your Majesty, what would have happened had either of the attacks succeeded in taking your life?”

  The King’s gaze sharpened. Blaine remained silent, having agreed the night before to let Sullyan take the brunt of Elias’s anger. “My Queen would become Regent for Eadan until he was old enough to rule,” he said shortly.

  Sullyan nodded. “As you know, it has recently become apparent that Baron Reen is foremost among those who oppose the legitimization of the Artesan craft.”

  She paused and Elias gave a curt nod, unsure where she was headed. She took a breath.

  “We also know that Baron Reen is Queen Sofira’s confidante and liegeman. On the first day of our journey here he made reference to following her orders, and she insists he accompanies you wherever you go.”

  The King’s countenance darkened and Sullyan glanced down at her hands. Still, it had to be said.

  “Your Majes
ty, how far do you trust the Queen?”

  Elias’s expression hardened. “Are you suggesting the Queen is trying to have me killed? Do you know what you’re saying, Colonel? You are accusing her of High Treason, an offence which carries the death penalty.”

  “It is only a suspicion, your Majesty,” Blaine said. “We’ve had precious little to go on so far, barring Reen’s flaunted dislike. Even that might just be the posturing of a small-minded and prejudiced man, or it might be a ploy to deflect us from our real adversary. Who knows? But we can’t discount any possibility, however far-fetched.”

  There was silence before Elias gave a deep sigh. “All right, I can understand how your suspicions arose. I can’t pretend that the Queen and I enjoy a completely… harmonious marital relationship. She made that obvious after the horse race. I suppose I can’t complain. I wed her for political reasons, to keep her father in line, not for love. I had hoped affection would come in time, but it hasn’t. However, she’s never opposed my policies and I do not believe she would try to have the father of her children murdered. Reen, now… well, he’s another matter.”

  Sullyan could feel Elias watching her as he spoke, but she didn’t raise her head or react in any way. He frowned, finally noticing just how tired she looked.

  “Brynne,” he said gently. She looked up and met his gaze, although her discomfort was plain. He pursed his lips. “There’s no need to be so downcast. I have every confidence you’ll find the one responsible for all of this. I trust your loyalty and judgment.”

  She lowered her eyes once more and murmured, “You can trust my loyalty implicitly, your Majesty, but my judgment failed you yesterday.”

  Elias glared at her. “Aha! So that’s what this is about. That’s what all this formality is for. Brynne, how can you think you failed me when you fought the way you did in my defense? What more could you have done? Do you think you should have been killed instead of Lord Fiann?”

  His rather blunt words brought tears to her eyes. “I deeply regret he was forced to that act, yes, your Majesty. Had I realized sooner what the manipulation of that storm meant, I might have prevented much injury and loss of life.”