DESPERATE ALLIANCES

by Cory Daniells

  “What message?” Kalleen asked.

  Lightfoot removed the folded paper from inside his jerkin.

  “Give it to Kalleen.”

  “But she’s—”

  “What? A woman?”

  Lightfoot stiffened as he handed over the message. “I meant only that Lady Kalleen is not trained in the craft of war.”

  “And you are,” Imoshen acknowledged. “I would hear your advice too.”

  As Kalleen read the message, her face grew visibly paler. “So this is what the vision and dreams meant. Can we buy their freedom? I know where—” She stopped abruptly, her cheeks coloring.

  Imoshen used the old-empire signal for silence.

  “What is gold to King Gharavan, when he has the resources of the Ghebite Empire?” Lightfoot muttered. “No, he wants revenge!”

  Imoshen folded the message. “There is only one chance to save their lives, and I pray I am not too late. I must discover where the King is and sail in time to prevent Tulkhan’s execution. Gharavan will want to make his revenge a public spectacle.” She licked dry lips. Her experience in the Amirate made her bold.

  “What if you fall into Gharavan’s hands?” Kalleen whispered.

  “Then I will die.”

  They both stared at her.

  Lightfoot stiffened. “T’Imoshen, you have a responsibility to Fair Isle.”

  “Don’t speak to me of responsibility. I have always acted for the good of Fair Isle. Just this once I will follow my heart. Kalleen, I lay this charge on you: you must keep Ashmyr safe. If I do not return, I name you Regent.”

  Kalleen was appalled.

  Imoshen ignored Lightfoot’s exclamation, turning to him. “As leader of the garrison, I name you Protector of T’Diemn. Commander Peirs I name War General of the army of Fair Isle. As Shujen of the Parakhan Guard, Drake serves you, Kalleen.”

  The young woman shook her head.

  “Kalleen, Peirs, and Lightfoot will form a triumvirate of power. You three will serve the interests of Fair Isle until my son is of age to take an empress. A council of three, with majority rule.”

  The mercenary stared at her, as astounded as Kalleen was horrified. Imoshen supposed it was a long step from farm girl to regent and an equally long step from leader of a mercenary band to co-ruler of Fair Isle.

  Imoshen strode to the table. “We must move quickly. Kalleen, send for the Beatific. I need her to draw up the legal documents.” She frowned. “No doubt Engarad will want a finger in this pie. But which piece will I give her?”

  Kalleen would have argued, but Imoshen sent her away. “Lightfoot, I want you to go to Deepdeyne. If that snake Haase is still there, I want him dead and his head spiked on the city gates.”

  This order was more to Lightfoot’s liking. “He will expect this.”

  “He may, but these Ghebites always underestimate a woman. He probably thinks me cowering in my palace, terrified of the Ghebite King’s wrath. Select your force and go.”

  He saluted her as he would salute the General.

  When Tulkhan awoke, he found himself alone in the hot-spring cave. Shifting to ease the ache in his body, he realized the fever was over and the festering poisons had left his body. If his hunger was anything to go by, several days had passed. Where was Reothe?

  Grunting with the effort, he pulled himself to his feet, bending almost double to avoid the low roof. The position triggered a memory. With the painful clarity of a fevered hallucination, he recalled finding Reothe huddled in pain.

  Reothe’s skin had been stretched over his bones so tightly that Tulkhan saw the pulse beating in his temple. When he asked what was wrong, Reothe had glared at him. “I took a life while we were escaping. The man’s shade stalks me through death’s shadow, and I am crippled on that plane.” Dread had widened his eyes. “He comes for me again.”

  Tulkhan frowned as the memory faded. At that point he had believed they would both die. Then a third person had appeared, a healer with soothing hands. Those hands had packed his wound with herbs and forced him to drink a vile-tasting mixture. He could feel the bandages around his thigh, so it had not been a hallucination. Perhaps Reothe had died and the healer had taken his body away.

  Painfully slow, Tulkhan limped to the mouth of the cave. He was stiff and hungry but he was alive, thanks to Reothe. And if Reothe still lived, where was he? Perhaps the Dhamfeer had left him to his fate. That made no sense. Reothe could have abandoned him many times. Shame scalded Tulkhan, for he would have abandoned Reothe. He had meant to. Yet when it had seemed there was no escape for him on the bridge, he had urged Reothe to save himself.

  Tulkhan stepped out of the cave, blinking in the blinding light. Snow lay pristinely beautiful in the midday sun, individual crystals glinting like carelessly scattered diamonds.

  Nothing moved, not even the air.

  Tulkhan blinked and stared at a patch of darkness, which resolved itself into Reothe’s face shadowed under the hood of a white cloak. He slid down into the hollow to join Tulkhan.

  “When I woke and found you gone, I thought you dead.” Tulkhan’s voice rasped from lack of use.

  The Dhamfeer pushed back his hood, revealing his narrow face, the cheekbones painfully prominent. “You confront death in your way; I, in mine.” Reothe looked past him to the sky. “Haase’s men have not come searching this way for two days.”

  “How many days has it been?”

  “Six, I think.”

  “And the healer. Did I imagine her?”

  “Is that bandage on your thigh a dream?”

  “Then I didn’t dream your suffering. When the soul of the man you killed stalked you through death’s shadow, did the Parakletos come to your aid?”

  Reothe’s eyes widened, and Tulkhan was pleased to have startled him.

  “Don’t mention their name, True-man. They rule death s shadow, but they are capricious beings and I am no longer in their favor. Since that aborted attempt to take the Greater Pass, my mentors have abandoned me. More T’En riddles for you, Mere-man.” Seeing Tulkhan’s expression, Reothe laughed bitterly. Abruptly, he sobered. “I know exactly how many men I have killed, because I died a little with each of them. I am here now only because I have escaped death’s shadow yet again!” Contempt narrowed Reothe’s garnet eyes. “You True-men think yourselves superior to the T’En. You call us beasts. Yet you kill without compunction. Do not speak to me of this again!‘”

  Heart pounding, Tulkhan watched as Reothe stalked toward the cave mouth. “You saved my life. Why?”

  The Dhamfeer hesitated, then turned to face Tulkhan. “If one of the T’En saves someone’s life, that person becomes their responsibility. They must see to it that this person is looked after in a worldly sense and if possible in a spiritual sense. But Ghebites’ customs are different. Do you follow the Gheeakhan Code, General Tulkhan?”

  He stiffened. “I hold my honor highly.” That was why he had found it so hard to contemplate killing Reothe while under an oath of truce.

  Reothe nodded, as if Tulkhan’s reply confirmed what he knew. “Wharrd died in service to Imoshen, honor-bound by his Ghiad.”

  Reothe had saved the General’s life knowing Tulkhan would be under a Ghiad to him. The General’s head spun. Sunlight glinted on Reothe’s closely cropped silver hair. Light flashed.

  Tulkhan found himself facedown in the snow. Pushing Reothe’s helping hands away, he came to his knees. The full implications of his position hit him. He was honor-bound to serve his deadly enemy.

  “We must leave soon,” Reothe said. “The healer won’t be back. It is worth more than her life.”

  Tulkhan limped into the cave. “How did she find us?”

  “Deduction. After we escaped from Deepdeyne, she guessed we would head for this place. None of my people will reveal the location of the hot springs.”

  Reothe unwrapped bread, roasted meat, and a flask of wine. He cut off a chunk of meat, offering it to Tulkhan. “Eat. You need your strength.”

&nbs
p; Hunger made Tulkhan’s mouth water. He was honor-bound to serve Reothe, but did the Dhamfeer really understand what a Ghiad meant to a Ghebite?

  “Don’t worry,” Reothe smiled sweetly. “I won’t ask you to fall on your sword.”

  The meat turned to ash in Tulkhan’s mouth.

  “I have only one stipulation. Do not share Imoshen’s bed.”

  A flare of anger engulfed Tulkhan, but he bowed his head to hide his fury, for under the Ghiad Reothe could ask for much more. He could ask for Imoshen.

  Imoshen paced the map room. From information gathered, she knew that Gharavan was not in the Amirate. She longed to confront the little Ghebite King, but she would not make a move until she knew where he was. To set off too soon might mean Tulkhan’s death.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tulkhan hid the pain in his leg. He hoped walking was good for it; they had done enough, skirting upstream to avoid Haase’s men. It had been on his insistence that they had come back to Deepdeyne, and he had not revealed how much trouble his leg was giving him, not wanting to give Reothe any excuse to veto his revenge on Haase.

  Being under Ghiad to Reothe placed Tulkhan in a peculiar position. It was many years since he had followed another man’s orders. Reothe could have refused Tulkhan his revenge, just as he could have asked him to fall on his sword, but he did not. Haase had to be killed and Reothe understood the need to set an example. It was better to serve out of love than fear, but sometimes a little fear was necessary.

  “The secret passage will get us inside Deepdeyne, but there will be only the two of us against Haase and all his men,” Reothe said. “Now, if my gifts were healed, I could slip in there and bring out your commander without anyone noticing.”

  Tulkhan frowned. “And why would you do that?”

  “Because I need you to help me hold Fair Isle, General.” Reothe smiled disarmingly.

  Tulkhan cursed silently as he headed up the slope to study Deepdeyne. “You get us into Deepdeyne and I will do the rest.” He knew if he killed Haase, his men would surrender.

  “Very well. We’ll take a look at the defenses, but we’ll wait until the small hours before dawn to strike.”

  They kept low so as to present no outline, though it would have taken an alert sentry to notice them from this distance. Once on the crest it was clear their care was not needed, for Deepdeyne was under siege.

  Tulkhan was amazed to see that the encircling soldiers flew his own standard, the dawn sun. “Who?”

  Reothe chuckled. “Imoshen, of course. She wouldn’t let this insult pass. I expected as much.”

  Was Imoshen herself down there? How did she know of their capture? “Are you in contact with her, Dhamfeer?”

  Reothe’s eyes narrowed at the tone and term, then he smiled. Tulkhan was learning to dread that expression.

  His back to a tree trunk, Reothe rolled up his sleeve to reveal the bonding scar on his wrist. “My gifts are crippled. But Imoshen and I are still bound in ways a True-man would not understand.”

  Tulkhan wondered if his original suspicion hadn’t been correct. Perhaps killing Reothe would endanger Imoshen....

  “Isn’t that rider your mercenary leader?”

  Tulkhan shaded his eyes. “Lightfoot! He’ll know what’s going on.” The General plowed down the slope, limping in his urgency. Crossing the snow-covered field, he signaled the sentries, who gave a shout of recognition. His men charged out with their weapons drawn, running past him. Tulkhan turned to see Reothe surrounded by Ghebites.

  Reothe held the General’s eyes. Suddenly Tulkhan’s mouth was too dry to swallow. He heard shouts and the sound of a rider approaching.

  The horse pawed the snow, breath misting on the cold air as Lightfoot dismounted. “General? We had word... But I see report of your capture and execution was greatly exaggerated.”

  The mercenary glanced at Reothe, then looked a question at Tulkhan. Only the General knew he was under obligation to Reothe. He could deny the Ghiad and blame Reothe for the betrayal, ridding himself of the Dhamfeer.

  “Reothe saved my life. I am under a Ghiad,” Tulkhan said. Even Lightfoot knew the Ghebite term. To a man, Tulkhan’s soldiers were appalled. “I am not awaiting execution nor drowned in this river because of Reothe. Put away your weapons.”

  Reothe’s expression was unreadable. Did he think Tulkhan a fool for not ordering his death?

  “Well, you are alive. This calls for a celebration!” Light-foot filled the silence. “Come into my tent.”

  Tulkhan fell into place at his side. He had the men and the means to enter Deepdeyne. Before dawn tomorrow the dishonor of Haase’s betrayal would be removed.

  Suddenly, Lightfoot cursed.

  “What?”

  He lowered his voice. “I must send a fast horse with word of your safe escape. I only hope it reaches the Empress before she sails for the mainland to confront King Gharavan.”

  Tulkhan was astounded. “She wouldn’t.”

  Reothe laughed outright.

  The secret passage into Deepdeyne led through a damp tunnel under the river itself. The weight of water and earth above made Tulkhan’s gut twist. Ahead of him Reothe led the way, dressed in borrowed mail a size too small. He carried a branch of candles, his weapon drawn.

  “My parents saw to it that I knew the history of each of my estates,” Reothe explained softly. “Deepdeyne’s defenses are impregnable, but if the defenders wanted to make a sortie against their besiegers they could use this tunnel. Commander Haase will know nothing of it.”

  “Where does it come out?”

  “In the old tower.”

  At last they came to a stone wall. Reothe removed a small plug and peered through. “Good. This wall should come down without too much trouble.”

  The men moved in and demolished it, removing each stone quietly. Tulkhan stepped through an archway that mimicked the arches on the surrounding walls. Barrels were stacked against one wall. Only an unlocked inner door stood between him and revenge. At this time of night, except for the sentries on the outer wall, all the inhabitants of Deepdeyne would be asleep.

  “Do not hurt the locals if you can help it,” Tulkhan told his men. “Lead me to the bedchambers, Reothe. We’ll capture Haase before the alarm is given.”

  They searched the private chambers above the great hall, finding evidence of Haase’s habitation but not the man himself.

  Tulkhan returned to the great hall, where the men-at-arms slept, sprawled like so many dogs before the fireplace. Stepping carefully through the sleeping bodies, Tulkhan looked for Haase’s sword-brother. He would know where the commander was. Tulkhan found them together.

  The General signaled for his men to spread out. Weapons drawn, they stood over the sleeping men. Tulkhan had selected an equal number of his loyal Ghebites and Lightfoot’s mercenaries for this attack. His soldiers had served with Haase’s men. He knew it would not be easy for them to kill their companions-at-arms, but he hoped it would not come to that.

  Holding his sword point to Haase’s chest, Tulkhan roared, “Stand and face your fate, betrayer!”

  The man awoke with a jerk, scrambling for a weapon before he knew who confronted him. Tulkhan gave him no chance, kicking him so that he flew into the wall. The startled cries of the men-at-arms faded as they woke to find themselves captured.

  Haase glanced from Tulkhan to Reothe. He made the sign to ward off evil.

  “What is the fate of a traitor, Haase?” Tulkhan demanded.

  “No!” a voice roared.

  Tulkhan spun to see Haase’s sword-brother charge him, armed with a dagger. With precision, Reothe took his legs out from under him and sent the flat of his sword against the man’s skull. Even as the man was going down, Tulkhan sensed movement and ducked. Death whistled over his head.

  Haase had wrenched a long sword off the wall-mounted display. It stood almost as tall as he. Tulkhan wondered which of Reothe’s ancestors had wielded this grisly weapon. Before Haase could regain control of t
he unfamiliar blade, Tulkhan stepped inside the range of the sword, blocking it with the guard of his own. He drove his ceremonial knife up under Haase’s ribs, straight to the heart. The commander would die where he stood.

  Dispassionately, Tulkhan saw him accept this.

  Haase met Tulkhan’s eyes. “Pray to Akha Khan, General, that you never have to choose between your honor and your family!”

  He toppled forward into Tulkhan’s arms. Hiding his regret, Tulkhan laid the man’s body on the floor. The General looked up at Reothe, wondering what honor would force him to do. Tulkhan straightened, cleaning his dagger. “That is twice you have saved my life.”

  A fey smile lit Reothe’s eyes. “By T’En custom, twice over I am beholden to care for you and yours.”

  “By Ghebite custom, twice over I am under a Ghiad to serve you.”

  “General?” Lightfoot prodded. “What will you have me do with Haase’s men?”

  “First, there is a wrong I must redress.” Tulkhan went to the fireplace, where Haase’s ribbons of office hung. The men parted for him. He unhooked the three ribbons with the tip of his sword. They slid down the length of the blade to the hilt.

  “Come here, Reothe of the T’En.”

  Silently, Reothe approached Tulkhan and dropped to one knee. But the subservient stance did not match the gaze he lifted to Tulkhan. His mocking expression seemed to say, Do you expect me to be grateful to you for returning what is rightfully mine?

  Tulkhan cleared his throat. “For hundreds of years your family were the masters of Deepdeyne. You have proved a truer friend than my own man Haase. I confiscate his estate and return Deepdeyne to your care.” He dropped the white ribbon over Reothe’s head. “White to symbolize the purity of service to the people of Deepdeyne.” He slipped the red ribbon into place. “Red symbolizes the blood you have shed and are willing to shed in their defense.” As he let the black ribbon fall, his fingers brushed Reothe’s short hair. It was soft and so fine that the sensation barely registered. “Black symbolizes death, which comes to us all.”