by Cas Peace
“It was necessary, Ty.” Already, Sullyan could feel the bitter fellan beginning to ease the throbbing in her head.
“How is he?” asked the Duke, stretching his long legs in front of him.
Sullyan spent a few minutes describing what had taken place in Pharikian’s chambers. When she was through, she found the courage to ask Marik what Pharikian had seen to cause his collapse, although she dreaded what he might tell her. “What was in the box, Ty? What was it that sent him over the edge?”
Marik dropped his eyes and didn’t immediately reply. Then he rose to his feet and crossed to a low fruitwood table set against one wall. He returned with a small wooden box and a piece of parchment and handed them to her. She briefly scanned the note. It read exactly as Marik had told her. He had only omitted one detail. On the bottom of the note, in place of a signature, was the unmistakable sun-circled seal of King Elias Rovannon.
Shaking her head, she set the parchment down, turning her attention to the box. It was quite small, rectangular in shape, about five inches long by two wide. It had simple spiral designs carved into it and was quite unremarkable. She thought she knew what she would see when she opened the lid.
Resting on a cloth which had once been white was the royal signet ring of Andaryon, the crest depicting a tangwyr clutching a four-starred crown in its talons. Sullyan had seen it before. Pharikian wore one like it, and Aeyron had worn his on the little finger of his right hand. If he was still alive—and she seriously doubted it—he would wear it there no more, for the ring was still on the finger within the bloody box.
She blanched, sensing the agony and hearing the screams of the Prince as his right hand was maimed. Whether he had survived the taking of the ring she couldn’t tell, but she knew Pharikian was convinced he had not. The note seemed to bear that out. She closed the lid over its grisly contents and bowed her head.
Some few moments passed before Marik said, “Gods, Brynne, what the Void do we do now?”
Sullyan raised her head and regarded him steadily. His eyes widened in understanding and he shook his head. Sullyan held his gaze, refusing to let him escape. “My friend,” she said softly, “you must assume command of the throne.”
Marik’s eyes betrayed his fear. “But I know so little about governing a country.”
“Then learn! Anjer will assist you, and so will Idri. They will steer you through it and see that you make no serious mistakes. You were a good lord to the people of Cardon, and you have already impressed those of Kymer. Governing Andaryon is much the same as ruling your own lands. Only the scale is larger.”
He nodded slowly, deep in thought.
“We must act quickly,” she continued, giving him no time to brood. “You told me the mine where the ransom was being gathered is on Tikhal’s lands. Who knew the arrangements for shipping the silver?”
“Idri and I, Anjer, Ephan, Tikhal, and Corbyn.”
“Are Tikhal and Corbyn still here?”
He shrugged. “As far as I know. They were yesterday.”
“Find them, Ty. Question them as to the loyalty of their people, especially the miners. Someone must have passed information to Aeyron’s abductors. Blood was spilled. Instruct Tikhal to find out who was detailed to guard the shipment and what has happened to them. Find out as much about the theft as possible, and then instruct Anjer and Tikhal to take any disciplinary action you deem necessary.
“Whoever took his Highness obviously never intended to exchange him for the ransom, which means plans to steal the silver were in place before the abduction. This implies it was an Andaryan ally of our enemy who carried out the theft. Tikhal must be instructed to make detailed enquiries to see what may be learned. Has Gaslek made any progress with the records you sent him?”
Marik shook his head. He told Sullyan that he hadn’t spoken to the Hierarch’s secretary since delivering Rykan’s and Sonten’s archives to him. Gaslek had given instructions for meals to be delivered to his rooms and had locked himself away with the mountain of papers in order to work undisturbed.
Sullyan rose. “We should pay him a visit. He may not yet know of the day’s events, and his work is even more vital now.”
Marik followed her from the room, but they didn’t get far before they met Baron Gaslek hurrying along the corridor, his robes flapping about his legs, his spectacles slipping off the end of his nose, and his arms clasped protectively around a sheaf of papers. He saw them approaching and stopped.
“I have to see Pharikian,” he panted.
“Have you found something, my Lord?” asked Sullyan.
“I have, Lady, but I ought to see Pharikian first.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Baron,” said Marik, his firm tone causing Sullyan to raise her brows approvingly. “His Majesty received distressing news concerning Prince Aeyron this morning and is currently indisposed. In fact, he is unable to rule at present. In the absence of the Heir, I am assuming command. You may bring your news to me.”
Gaslek gaped, both for the content of Marik’s words and the manner of his speech. The gravity of the situation had clearly come home to the Duke, and he was determined to make the best showing he could. Sullyan knew that Pharikian had been more than good to Marik since he had married Idrimar, and considering he had once been branded a traitor due to his enforced support of Rykan, Marik owed the Hierarch much more than mere allegiance.
Gaslek swallowed. “Is his Highness…?”
Sullyan touched his arm. “We do not yet know, my Lord, but his Majesty fears the worst. He was so distraught Deshan and I have had to seal him away from his powers. We will keep him asleep for the present, for his own good. The Duke of Kymer will assume the throne until his Majesty recovers. You had best tell him what you have found.”
“Well then,” fussed Gaslek, concern plain on his face, “we had better go in here and I’ll show you.”
He ushered them into an empty office and closed the door. Moving to the desk, he placed his papers on it and sorted them into orderly stacks. Sullyan and Marik tried to hide their impatience.
“These papers,” the Baron began, “are payment records from Rykan’s palace. They go back quite some time. Now, there may be a perfectly innocent explanation for this, but I thought it worthy of notice.”
He pointed out various passages in Rykan’s records detailing payments made to his elite guard. They were dry and boring lists, and Sullyan couldn’t blame Marik for not having read them before. When she saw what Gaslek had discovered, she frowned. The entries were always at the bottom, and the amount of gold bestowed, and the person named as recipient, were both a surprise.
She glanced at Marik. The date on the most recent parchment was about two months before Rykan issued his ill-fated challenge to Pharikian’s rule.
“Blackmail?” suggested Marik.
“Quite possibly,” she agreed. “But how, and why, would Lord Corbyn be blackmailing Rykan? And if it was not blackmail, then why would Rykan pay a northern lord more than one of his own generals?”
Congratulating Gaslek on such efficient detective work, Marik sent him back to his studies with instructions to continue the search and to let him know immediately if he found any more references to Lord Corbyn.
“Or his son,” added Sullyan abruptly. Gaslek raised a brow but forbore to comment.
Marik’s expression was hard and his pale eyes flinty as he and Sullyan hastened to the guest wing where Tikhal and Corbyn were housed.
It was no great surprise to find Corbyn’s suite empty.
Chapter Thirty-One
When questioned, Tikhal professed ignorance of his fellow lord’s departure. Sullyan believed him. However, she also noted the hastily covered start of surprise given by his son when he heard the news.
Marik gave Tikhal a brief outline of the day’s events and left the Lord of the North in no doubt as to his expectations. Tikhal agreed to send someone to question the mine workers, but was of the opinion that they were probably blameless. They
were all handpicked and loyal men. He was also apprised of the circumstances surrounding Marik’s assumption of command, both he and his son showing genuine fear for the probable fate of the Heir. In fact, Rand turned positively green when he learned the grisly nature of the message, and Sullyan thought it might benefit Marik to get Rand alone for an intimate chat.
Leaving Tikhal and Rand to their thoughts, Sullyan accompanied Marik as he sought out Anjer and told the huge man that he was assuming temporary command of the throne. She didn’t miss the look Anjer cast her as he formally accepted Marik as Regent. He had clearly expected the development.
“I will have the necessary proclamations issued at once, your Grace,” he said, giving the Duke a respectful bow. Marik smoothly made the appropriate responses.
Having done everything she reasonably could under the circumstances, Sullyan had to return to the Manor. She was due out on patrol in a couple of hours and could not afford to be late. Before she left, she decided to pay Pharikian one last visit to satisfy herself of his condition.
She never made it.
For the second time that day, a furious summons crashed into her burned and aching psyche. The harsh tones of General Blaine, suffused with such anger as she had rarely known from him, swamped her mind.
Sullyan! Where the Void are you? Get back here now! Elias’s son has been abducted and he’s beside himself with rage. All patrols have been canceled and an emergency council called.
His tone oozing betrayed hurt, he added, How dare you be absent when I need you? I’m very disappointed in you, Sullyan. I never thought you’d desert us at a time like this.
Her eyes pricking with the shock of his unjust accusation, Sullyan traveled as swiftly as she could back to Albia, being as reckless as before in crossing the Veils. Wondering how much more grief she could take in one day, she berated herself for not anticipating this tragic occurrence.
*****
Bull had spent some time thinking over Sullyan’s words the night before, both concerning her situation with Robin and also the problem of Ozella. He would obey her command not to interfere, but he had no intention of keeping quiet should he come across the Major in the course of his duties. He also came to a decision over Ozella, and young Tad was the key to his plan.
Bull made his way toward the College in search of the young cadet. To reach the College, he had to pass the barracks, and he was rather surprised to see Lieutenant-Major Denny and Robin walking together outside the low building, deep in conversation. Guessing that Robin had spent the last two nights in the barracks, he wondered what the men thought. He must see if he could get some of them talking over supper. Robin would be out on patrol by then, so the men wouldn’t be wary of his overhearing.
As he watched, the two men finished their conversation. Denny went back into the barracks, walking slowly and awkwardly as he was still very weak and sore. Robin turned in Bull’s direction. His pale face was set and his eyes downcast, so he didn’t see the big man leaning against the corner of the building. When he came abreast of Bull, Robin looked up, startled.
“Bull! I didn’t see you there.”
Bull stared at the young man. His usually fresh and handsome face was worn and strained. His indigo eyes were shadowed with worry, and his shoulders bowed. The ready smile he usually wore was missing. He returned Bull’s stare and his expression quickly changed to one of irritation.
“If you’ve got something to say, big man, then say it. Otherwise, leave me alone.”
“Oh, I’ve got something to say, all right,” growled Bull. “I just don’t know if I can keep my temper.”
“Keep your mouth shut, then.” Robin turned to walk on.
Bull wasn’t going to take that. He planted himself in front of Robin. “You young idiot! What the Void do you think you’re playing at?”
“Nothing,” spat Robin, his own temper rising. “I’m playing at nothing, Bull. Ask Sullyan what she’s playing at. Ask Taran!”
“I would, only you’ve driven him out, haven’t you? Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself. Oh, come on, Robin! Can’t you see you’re mistaken? If you believe for one minute that either of them would betray you like that, then you’ve no more sense than a mule’s backside!”
Robin rounded on him. “What do you know about it? I’ve spoken to people who saw them, Bull! It’s not just hearsay or gossip. This is fact.”
“Oh, fact, is it? Says who? Denny? And what exactly did he see, Robin? Two good friends working together, that’s what. That’s why she took Taran with her, for the gods’ sake! What did you expect her to do, ignore him? She would have behaved the same way if I’d gone, do you realize that? Would you have believed the rumors if it had been me instead of Taran? Because I love her just as much as he does, I can tell you that! And I know for a fact that she loves me too, because she’s told me often enough.
“But she doesn’t feel the same way about either of us as she does about you, gods help her! You know that perfectly well, yet this is how you repay her. One stupid little rumor from a man who’s bored out of his brain, a man who knows no better than to elaborate on some overheard, spiteful comment, and you throw away everything you’ve achieved over the last four years like a broken bowstring. Not to mention the love and trust of your life mate! What kind of a man does that make you?”
Robin looked as if he wanted to strike Bull, and the big man would almost have welcomed a fight. He thought he could probably still beat Robin in a fistfight, owing to his greater mass and size, but even if he couldn’t, it would give the young man a chance to work some of the poison out of his system. The Major controlled his fury with a huge effort, although his fists remained balled. Ignoring Bull’s question, he flung one of his own.
“If they’re so innocent, Bull, why did she turn her powers on me? Tell me that, if you can! If that isn’t a betrayal of trust, I don’t know what is.”
Bull shook his head. He was still dismayed at how overwrought Sullyan must have been to forget herself so thoroughly. He retorted forcefully. “You drove her to that! Something else to be proud of. You’re the only one who’s ever succeeded in making her lose control. That alone should tell you the depth of her feelings!”
He turned his head briefly before facing the furious young man again. Dropping the anger, he tried appealing to Robin through sadness. “Dammit, Robin, she’s hurting so badly. She needs her friends around her right now. We all do. Artesans should stick together at times like this, not tear each other apart.”
Robin’s hand cut the air in a desperate gesture. “Well, I’m hurting too,” he cried, a note of hysteria creeping into his voice. “Only no one seems to care about that! You’re all turning against me and I’ve done nothing wrong. If all you can do is blame and berate me, then I’m better off without you. Just leave me alone in future.”
He flung himself away and stalked off, but not before Bull saw the tears glittering in his eyes. The big man stood staring after Robin, only now realizing how deeply the rumors had sunk into the young man’s soul. Thinking that he had better find out exactly what Robin had heard to make him believe them so completely, Bull resolved to talk with Denny at the first opportunity. For now, though, he needed to find Tad.
*****
Parren returned from patrol just after the noon meal. He was tired and sweaty, for his command had encountered two raiding parties and had pursued the second one for a good few miles before losing them through the Veils. He had formed the impression that the demons were desperate, as if the person who should have opened the Veils was unavailable or preoccupied.
When they did manage to escape, they left Parren furious. He had been so close! Given another ten minutes, he was sure he could have run them down and taken captives. Now that would have been a feather in his cap. No one else had succeeded in taking prisoners, not even the all-powerful Colonel Sullyan, and he would have given much to have seen her face if he had been the one to bring back prisoners.
Then he calmed himself, thinking th
rough the situation. Would it actually be to his advantage to capture one of the raiders? What if it adversely affected the Baron’s plans? Yet he had been given no instructions from the Baron concerning the subject, and soon he ceased to worry about it. Though he had not been successful, no one could doubt his devotion to duty or question his commitment, not this time. And anyway, didn’t he already have a pocketful of gold from his patron, sent to him only the day before along with another message from the Baron? Although, by the sounds of it, there might not be many more such parcels.
In the message, Reen had intimated that his plans were nearing fruition. He added that their benefactress, whom Parren had no doubt was the Queen, was extremely pleased with his efforts so far and had already decided on his future reward. The gold was merely a token, although to Parren it represented a whole year’s pay.
Reen also told Parren that Ozella’s usefulness was probably over. The men guarding Ozella’s sisters were needed elsewhere, and Reen had ordered the girls’ release. They would be left to make their own way home or to a place of safety, and by the tone of the Baron’s letter, they would not find this easy. He left it up to Parren to decide whether to tell Ozella or not, and upon reflection, Parren decided against telling him. At least, not until he was secure in his new position, where Ozella’s denouncement could not hurt him. Parren smiled maliciously and fingered the two gold rings in his pocket.
He headed for his rooms, intending to wash away the grime of his labors and change his clothes before seeing what food was available in the commons. As luck would have it, he chanced across the young foreigner before reaching his chambers.
Parren saw Ozella’s face go white as the Beraxian saw him approaching. Several expressions conveying murderous thoughts and desires flickered briefly across his face. He swallowed when he saw the knowing look Parren gave him.
Sauntering up to the younger man, Parren stopped in front of him, looking him over as if appraising his threat and discounting it.