Green, Sharon - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter.htm

by Lady Blade, Lord Fighter

  "Not as awkward as moving bodies," the second voice said, a shadow straightening to its feet. "Let's see if we can't move them together."

  Chapter 6

  "My Lord Duke, over here!" a voice called from near one of the scattered torches, and Kylin was moving even before Duke Rilfe, Traixe thought. He himself wasn't more than a step behind, and wouldn't have been even if someone had been in the way. How thai broiling girl could walk out there alone! He would have sworn she knew better than that . . . !

  "We found this, my lord." the fighter who had called said, holding up something that gleamed silver in the torchlight. "And—that."

  His free hand pointed down to the stone, and Traixe had to put an arm about Duke Rilfe's shoulders, to keep his lord steady on his feet. The blood was actually pooled on the stone, dark in the darkness but unmistakable, and no man—or woman—had ever lost that amount and lived.

  "It isn't hers," Kylin said suddenly, not in desperation but with assurance, his light eyes examining everything there was to see. "Tell me, Fighter: was there any blood on that medallion or chain?"

  "Lord Kylin, perhaps you'd like to rest after so terrible a shock," Traixe interrupted, very aware of the way his fighter was staring at the young lord. He'd dropped his assumed characterization completely, but maybe something could be salvaged from the slip.

  "It's a waste of time going on with that now, Traixe," Kylin denied with a headshake, then looked at the fighter again. "Well? Was there any blood?"

  "No, my lord," the fighter grudged, still not entirely certain he ought to be answering like that, but needing to do something with those light eyes on him. "We found it there,

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  three feet away from the blood, and it was just like you see it."

  "I would have wagered all I own on that," Kylin said, looking to Duke Rilfe with satisfaction. "Your daughter is a Blade, my Lord Duke, and no Blade may be taken without the spilling of blood—most often the blood of others. The lady Sofaltis has been taken, but not without cost to the enemy."

  "How can you be certain she was taken rather than slain, Kylin?" Duke Rilfe asked, seeking assurance and not argument. "That blood—may well be hers."

  "If the blood was hers, her body would be beside it," the young Fighter answered bluntly, his eyes darkening in the torchlight. "What reason would they have for taking her body and hiding it? The Law allows those who have mysteriously disappeared to be declared dead, so what would be gained? No, her disappearance is for a reason other than death, and may even have been meant to suggest that she'd run off on her own."

  "Which is a possibility," Traixe put in, disliking having to say it, but needing to have it said. "If she felt she couldn't live with what was happening no matter which way it went, she might well have decided that complete withdrawal was her only option. She was fond of looking at things tactically."

  "As may be," Kylin said with a nod, refusing to allow Traixe's sourness to touch him. "There's nothing to say she didn't decide to leave on her own, and if she had it would scarcely be beyond her to arrange a pool of blood for everyone to grieve over. She would not, however, have left that medallion, not even if she had no intentions of rejoining her Company. I've known enough Blades to know that she would keep it even if it were packed away never to be taken out again. The fact that it was left behind means it wasn't left by her choice."

  "And the fact that there was no blood on it should also mean the blood isn't hers," Traixe pounced, now more eager than sour. "She wouldn't have given up the medallion willingly, and if it was taken from her body after she was dead there would be some trace on it. The only thing I don't understand is why it was left in the first place."

  "It may not have been left on purpose," Kylin said, looking around again. "Since the chain was broken and we can

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  see the blood that was spilled, I think we're safe in assuming there was a struggle of some kind. We all agree that whoever did the bleeding didn't survive, so there have to be others involved. If the others came after the struggle, they might not have known about the medallion—and wouldn't have been able to see it in the dark. I seriously doubt that they took the risk of lighting a torch."

  "But—how could they have captured Sofaltis?" Duke Rilfe demanded, finally having mastered the shock he'd been given. "If she killed the first to attack her, how could latecomers catch her unawares?"

  "I've been asking myself the same thing," Kytin muttered, beginning to prowi around the area. He was so intent he never noticed the stares he was being given by House Guard and fighter alike. The clothing he wore proclaimed him as something a good deal less than a fighting man, but those who looked at him were no longer at all eager to test the contention. The way he moved and spoke—and the expression in those eyes—

  "There!" he said suddenly, freezing in place as his nostrils flared. "I could have swom— Traixe, come over here. And pay attention to odors while you're doing it."

  The older Fighter raised his brows questioningly, but followed the suggestion without hesitation. Suggestion. Only right then did it occur to him that this was the man who was meant to be heir to his lord, and they were only then seeing the truth of him. Obviously not a man to suggest, dearly a noble born, a Fighter and leader, so much like his lord had been at that age—

  "Of course!" Traixe burst out suddenly, having caught the faintest trace of an odor, undoubtedly the same Lord Kylin had caught not two feet away. "Swamp mist! They must have had a cloth saturated with it."

  "Swamp mist?" Duke Rilfe echoed with a frown, making his sniffing way over to the other two men. "I've never heard of swamp mist, and don't smell a thing."

  "The traces of it are almost gone, but you'd know it if you'd ever come across it before," Kylin answered, rubbing his face with a hand as he looked around again. "It's a liquid rather than a vapor, but it's called swamp mist because it smells something like the swamps to be found in the south-

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  west. In my father's Duchy, it's used by the healers on those who are badly wounded or hurt and need serious work done on them. It knocks them out so completely, they don't feel a thing."

  "No one who has ever fought in the west can mistake that smell," Traixe put in in agreement. "Healers elsewhere don't seem to be as partial to its use. But even if you've never had it used on you, you remember how the healing tents there usually reeked of the stuff. It was enough to turn a man dizzy just passing by."

  "Duke Rilfe, I need to speak with you," Kylin said suddenly, those eyes having shifted color again. "And privately, if you please."

  Duke Rilfe gazed briefly at the young man fortune had brought to him, then nodded and turned to lead the way back into the castle. Traixe paused only long enough to take Sofaltis' medallion and order his men to a complete search of the castle, and then he had rejoined them. So as not to miss what young Kylin has in mind, the Duke thought, smiling to himself despite the pain of loss he still felt. And I find myself believing Kylin will get her back, he couldn't help adding. It was difficult seeing the fool Kylin and remembering Kylin the King's Fighter, but the fool was gone now and the King's Fighter had taken over. He'd been right to drop the pretense, and the results of his actions would prove if he was right in assuming command. At another time the Duke would have resented so peremptory a takeover, but just then he was too weary and heartsick.

  The Duke's guests had all retired to their accommodations out of respect for their host's distress, which meant Duke Rilfe had no need of enduring commiseration from anyone but Sir Fonid and the household staff. They, however, had the good sense to do no more than speak briefly before bowing themselves out of his path, which meant he reached his study in a less enraged frame of mind than would otherwise have been true. His grief was already beginning to turn to outrage and fury, burning away the debilitation weighing heavily on his mind.

  "
Very well, young Kylin, you now have the privacy you requested," the Duke said briskly once Traixe had closed the

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  door behind them, turning to face the King's Fighter. "What plan do you have, and how may we help you with it?"

  "I have more of a suspicion than a plan, my Lord," Kylin answered, impressed with how quickly the Duke had recovered his self-possession. This was a man fully as capable as his father, and one'easily admired. "I take it Lord Traixe is completely in your confidence, and privy even to family matters?"

  "If he weren't, he probably would have spitted 'Lord Kylin' at first glance," the Duke came back, aware of the way Traixe was chuckling. "Say what you will, it won't be anything he isn't already aware of."

  "That makes it easier," Kylin said, turning to look at Traixe. "When was the last time the exit tunnels were checked? Were there any signs of activity that shouldn't have been there?"

  "The exit tunnels are stone-braced, and therefore need only occasional checking," Traixe answered slowly, no longer amused. "The last time I saw them was with Lord Rymar, Evon keep him. And Evon take me for not thinking of them myself! How else could those attackers from'yesterday have gotten into the castle?"

  "Without the help of the traitor in our household, they could only have come through the gate as delivery men or laborers," Duke Rilfe said, frowning as he looked at the other two. "We discussed the point this morning, Traixe, and never even considered the tunnels for the simple reason that no one but we two know of them. How could the traitor have found out about them?"

  "The information doesn't necessarily have to have come from this Duchy, my lord," Kylin said, beginning to move around the room as his mind worked. "Anyone finding out about the exit tunnels would also find out that all the castles have them, and then it would only be a matter of locating their entrances here in the castle. I not only believe your attackers from yesterday were brought in through one of them, I also believe Sofaltis has already been taken out of the castle in the same way. I'd like your permission for Lord Traixe and myself to have a look at them."

  "Damn that son of chaos, why would he have his minions kidnap my daughter?" Duke Rilfe shouted, his fists clenched

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  in fury, his eyes blazing. "I can understand killing her, but why would he have her taken? What does he mean to do with her? Evon help her, what will he do to her?"

  "Absolutely nothing, if / have any say in the matter," Kylin answered so flatly that Duke Rilfe's gaze snapped to him, then nearly flinched away again. His own fury, though louder, was nothing compared to what the younger man showed in his eyes, and for the second time Duke Rilfe felt heartened. If it were possible to save Sofaltis, the man she was promised to would get it done.

  "Traixe, take him now, and quickly," Duke Rilfe said, drained of the anger as suddenly as it had come. The worst of it was the feeling of helplessness, ana he turned away from the two men already heading for the door, needing to sit quietly for a while with a cup of wine beside him. The last words between him and Sofaltis had been ones of anger, and if she never returned he would remember that to the end of his days. He lowered himself slowly into a chair as he was left alone, feeling older than he ever had, wearier than he'd been when he'd lost his beloved Araisa. At least Araisa had gone Home to Evon, not into the clutches of an inhuman, uncaring—

  Duke Rilfe's hands had closed convulsively on the chair arms, an unconscious attempt to choke the life from his distant, backstabbing enemy. After a moment he deliberately relaxed again, smiling faintly at the resolve that had come to him. So Nimram, working behind dupes and hirelings, considered himself safe, did he? Well, he had finally overstepped himself with this latest outrage, and would discover that personally if Sofaltis failed to return unharmed. Rilfe, Duke of Gensea, of the House of Kienne, would protect the lives of his two youngest daughters by personally ending that of His Holiness Nimram I. He'd hardly be likely to survive the doing, but for so sweet an end he was more than willing to give up his life. Duke Rilfe, smiling with pleasure, settled back in his chair and reached for the bell cord to summon his servants.

  "I think we can save ourselves some legwork," Traixe said softly to Kylin as soon as they'd left the Duke's study.

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  "Let's stop at my apartments for a moment or two, and I'll explain."

  "Let's save even more time and stop at my apartments/* Kylin countered, already beginning to lead the way in that direction. "If we find anything worth following up on I want to be able to do it, so I'm going to change out of these boots now. Their interesting color aside, if I don't get out of them soon rii be mincing around for the rest of my life."

  Traixe chuckled at the expression Kylin flashed him, then followed without argument to the destination already started for. Once inside with lamps lit and a hasty look around to be sure they were alone, Traixe settled himself in a chair while Kylin began digging through the luggage the servants had been forbidden to touch.

  "There are six tunnels, and four of them can be eliminated immediately, I think," Traixe began, watching Kylin's search with only half an eye. "One can be reached only through the main entrance hall, one from the stables, one from the Duke's apartments, and one from the family wing. With the number of people always around three of those, and the Duke's possible presence at any time near the fourth, 1 think the tunnel being used is one of the remaining two."

  "Then we'll check those two first," Kylin agreed, throwing around prettily-colored silk and usable leather alike. "If we don't find what we're looking for, we can always go on to the others— Ah! Here they are."

  "I never thought I'd find brown a more attractive color than red," Traixe observed with a chuckle, then grew serious again. "If I were to guess, Lord Kylin, I'd say you had a very special reason for all this hurry you're exhibiting. Would you care to share that reason with a simple Fighter?''

  "Lord Traixe, if the day ever comes that I consider you nothing more than a simple Fighter, I'll be the one who's simple," Kylin returned, glancing to the other man as he began pulling off the boots he wore. "Something you said about the swamp mist started me thinking, and that's why I'm convinced we have no time to lose. Tell me what sort of men you think are the ones who took Sofaltis. Fighters and Blades?"

  "No, certainly not," Traixe answered, frowning as he tried to follow the question to the conclusion it was headed toward. "Fighters and Blades are followers of Evon, and

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  these have to be fanatics bowing to Grail. Most probably they're farmers or hunters or possibly servants."

  "Who are almost completely unskilled with weapons," Kylin agreed, his hands still moving. "Are men like those likely to want Sofaltis awake and aware before they get her to where they're going? They know she's a Blade, remember, and they won't want to take any chances. Won't they feel that with the swamp mist they don't have to take any chances? All they have to do is keep her mostly under until they've reached their destination."

  "But they can't do that," Traixe protested, straightening in his chair. "Prolonged use of the mist builds up a tolerance, and then it doesn't work any—"

  "Exactly," Kylin said grimly, standing up to stamp on his brown boots the rest of the way. "Healers never notice that odor around healing tents that you mentioned earlier, the one that gets you dizzy just from passing by. If enough time goes by that the mist is completely out of a man's system it will work again, but not until then. If those people have no rea! experience with the mist and are just using it as a handy tool, the girl will come out of it when they're least expecting it, and probably come out fighting. How likely are they to have left her any weapons? How likely are they not to have knives at the very least of their own?"

  "We have to find which way they went as soon as possible," Traixe said as he also stood, his grimness a match to Kylin's. "How many of my men do you want to take?"
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  "I'll move faster and more quietly if I'm alone," Kyfin answered, already leading the way back toward the door. "We don't want them knowing they're being followed, or they might decide they'd prefer losing their captive permanently to letting her be rescued. Which way do we go first?"

  "This way," Traixe said immediately, and began leading off.

  "This is it," Kylin said as soon as they stepped into the tunnel, the second they'd checked, its entrance located in a dark, unused passage near the kitchens. Behind a section of dusty wall-hanging the stone had swung in smoothly and noiselessly, the torches they held showing an equally smooth floor angling clearly downward.

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  "How can you be so sure?" Traixe asked, keeping his voice low as he pushed the entrance stone closed behind them. "There's nothing here to suggest anyone's been this way since the last time I was."

  "Not even footprints in the dust, because there is no dust," Kylin pointed out, raising his torch to see as far as possible down the tunnel. "The first tunnel had dust and footprints both, but only a single set that was scuffed. Someone had been in it and then had tried to disguise his presence, but since it was only a single someone he didn't try too hard. Here all the dust has been swept clean."

  "To hide the exact number of feet that have been through it," Traixe said in disgust as he looked around. "And i never even thought to check them. When this is all over, the first thing I'm going to do is give the Duke my resignation."

  "What for?" Kylin asked, turning to look directly at the other man. "For protecting the locations of the other tunnels?"

  "Now what are you talking about?" Traixe demanded, returning Kylin's stare with confusion. "If they know about two of the tunnels, it stands to reason they know about them all."

  "They may know there are other tunnels, but they don't necessarily have to know where they are," Kylin explained, his tone not in the least condescending, Traixe couldn't help noticing. "You said the last time you checked the tunnels, it was with Lord Rymar. Did you check all of the tunnels with him?"