But other developments had made the situation more pressing. First off, Artemi had started experiencing regular headaches, and they seemed to be growing in magnitude and duration. Morghiad had done his best to explain them away, but he was pushing her trust. She knew he was keeping the truth of the headaches from her, and had even started to describe events which only could have occurred in a long-distant past. His second problem was one of the king’s benay-gosa, Suhla. Incredibly, Acher had managed to keep the girl around for nearly nine years, and rumour was that she would fall pregnant very soon. If Suhla did produce an heir, all of Morghiad’s careful planning would have been for nothing. Even more troublesome was the man King Acher had hired to guard his benay-gosa. There was something about him that made the kahr’s skin itch. He was not a man pulled from the ranks of the Calidellian army, but hailed from Forda in the north. Hegard was a mercenary, and as far as Morghiad could tell, only interested in money.
The door slid shut behind Artemi and her guards; he didn’t like leaving her unattended when she had nowhere to conceal a sword. He felt her contentedly striding away from him along the hard stone floor; the flame of her in his mind bobbed in anticipation of some freedom. The captain looked across at the assembled men; the ones he trusted the most to care for her and Calidell in his absence. They were among the few who knew of his plans. Silar was there, of course; Toryn, still as cold towards the kahr as ever; Koviere, useful for his knowledge of her from before - if not just his excellent swordsmanship; experienced Beodrin, who seemed to have adopted Artemi as a second daughter; Passerid and Jarynd, for obvious reasons; and Orwin, who had the potential to make a fine lieutenant once either Beodrin or Silar became captain. The matter of captain was something Morghiad still had to decide on. Outside of the army he had prepared a number of excellent administrators, treasurers, and men of law. Finding sympathetic governors from the provinces had been tricky, but Silar had been indispensible in locating seven very reliable ones, including his own father. “Any news from Lord Yardinehr yet?”
The blond man shook his head. “I think he is nervous of agreeing to support her in writing, but I know he will be very useful once she is... in place. But Cadra is far more important for her. She has some concrete support here, especially as the rumours about her being some long-lost hero of the past seem to be circulating like wildfire.” Silar grinned broadly, clearly proud of himself.
Morghiad nodded. “Good. Beodrin, have you managed to find any more out about Suhla?”
The stocky man regarded him gravely. “I found a little man in the castle archives. Dorlunh. He found the admission document for her. It is dated to the end of the first month, 3207 PD.”
“Then it is only four weeks away...” Orwin half-whispered.
Toryn cut in. “The timing is not always that precise.” He practically glowered at Morghiad. “What are you going to do to make sure Artemi does not end up in this situation?”
That was just what he needed. At the last meeting it had been questions about marriage and now he was being pressed over this? How awkward did the man want him to feel? “I am hardly going to be able to achieve that from inside a prison cell, now, am I?”
“Break her heart and I’ll collect your head,” Toryn stated for a fourth time. At least the older man was in a better mood than usual; the new woman Toryn had taken seemed to be doing him a world of good. Artemi had found it tough at first, no longer the only female in his life. But she had offered her usual warmth to Sindra, and the two women seemed to get along famously these days.
Jarynd rubbed his gnarled chin. “How long before Artemi remembers?”
Morghiad sighed, “About a month.” They would certainly have to pre-empt things to be sure there were no loose ends.
The captain turned his emerald eyes to Koviere. “I want to know how the old Artemi would react to being told she was to be queen.” He should have asked months ago, but had feared hearing the answer.
The giant creased his rectangular forehead into a frown. He still seemed to think Morghiad ought to be king, and still found their relationship an oddity. “You know, there are some differences between this girl and the woman. Trying to tell her what to do was like attempting to put a hurricane in a box. She won’t agree to something like this unless you give her no choice. Don’t tell her until Acher is dead and she is walking to the throne.”
Toryn grunted.
The kahr didn’t like it either. He felt like he was lying to her about so many things. “No one will be able to put her in a box once she’s queen.” He stood and paced the room.
“No, indeed. We are all moths to her flame, are we not?” Silar commented absently.
Morghiad was doing the best for her and for the country, wasn’t he? “And currently we push that flame about where we please.” It was the only way. Fight to save what you love. Destroying Acher was a part of that. He wasn’t doing it purely out of hate. Not quite, anyway. The window looked out onto the entrance courtyard and beyond, the dark grey wall. A light sprinkling of snow covered the untouched surfaces like a dusting of icing sugar. He could sense Artemi was just entering the city proper, exchanging banter with her guards. “There is still the matter of captain to be dealt with. I need someone who can keep everything together... but still make best use of their respective skills. I’ve had a thought: Beodrin, you should be captain after me. And Silar, I believe you would be best-placed as general. Orwin and Toryn can fill your current positions.”
There were some raised eyebrows. Silar raked his hand though his hair. “Shouldn’t Artemi be Calidell’s general? Even ignoring tradition, her experience considerably outweighs ours.”
He was right, but it was likely she would have her hands full of other problems. “Acher uses the army outside of Calidell purely as tax enforcers. Silar, you have an opportunity to do something different with them. Though I am sure Artemi will offer her advice if you ask.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Orwin whispered.
Morghiad allowed half a smile to escape. He hadn’t quite come to terms with it all, either.
A wave of unexpected heat brushed at Morghiad’s neck.
Passerid screwed his face up. “Wielding in the city? Is that her?”
The kahr grinned to himself. He had been very underhanded over the matter of wielders. “Not Artemi. Ignore it, it is not dangerous.” Acher had been thinking himself paranoid at seeing all the recent strange lights in the city, and every kanaala had denied it was Blaze-related. It was very satisfying to see at least one of his plans come into beautiful fruition. These women had been specially picked for their willingness to tease the king, but also for their integrity. All were relatives of the people he trusted.
“I thought they were only supposed to do that at night,” Passerid said.
The captain nodded. “They have permission to place images before Acher, day or night. I suppose they’re just more visible at night.”
“You are a crafty man, Morghiad Jade’an,” Koviere sighed with not insignificant amusement.
The meeting turned to matters of law enforcement. The kahr wanted the castle gaolers removed entirely and replaced with some more honourable types, though it was awkward to advance the idea given that he was their prospective tenant. He had to serve through his punishment for what he was about to do, and how those men would treat him mattered nothing. What worried him was their fervent loyalty and apparent direct chain of command to Acher. Morghiad doubted they would be quick to switch allegiance to Artemi, but he hoped to leave Cadra a garden free of thorns for her. “Silar, has Sergeant Neleum been dealt with?”
The lieutenant grimaced. “He won’t be stabbing Acher any time soon, though he wasn’t easy to persuade.”
Morghiad nodded with approval. He felt fire burn deep into her skin, and snapped his head to the window. A kanaala had touched her. She felt... concerned.
“Beodrin, are all the other kanaala in the castle today?”
The stocky man nodded with a puz
zled look. “Training as you requested, lord-captain.”
Artemi had turned and was headed back towards him. “This meeting is finished.” Morghiad swept out of the room, cloak billowing in his wake. He knew instinctively that Silar was following him; he was the only one who knew of the significance of the kahr’s link to Artemi, though others suspected. “She’s alright, Silar. I will deal with this.”
No one was behind him when he next looked back into the gloom of the halls. He trotted down the steps as fast as he could without running and paced to the main courtyard. The red-haired woman was already walking through the main gate when he reached the portcullis, five guards flanking her like a dark halo. Her expression was of measured calm, which belied the worry inside.
Morghiad clasped her by the uppers of her arms. “What happened?”
Her features tightened. “I was in the market. It was so busy, so crowded and someone... a kanaala, brushed against me. They know. They know I’m a wielder, and whoever it was is not someone we know.”
“Didn’t any of you get a good look at him?”
Artemi shook her head. The guards looked at the floor, embarrassed at their failure. “There were hundreds of people there. It could have been anyone,” she added.
Morghiad grimaced. He couldn’t sense other kanaala in the way he could wielders. Just like Artemi, their abilities remained invisible until touched. He could scour the entire city and never find this man. A trap would have to be laid instead. “It’s alright, I’ll keep you safe. I made you a promise that I would.” He embraced her tightly. “And I’m sure you could deal with him adequately yourself, if it came to it.”
Artemi half-laughed into his chest, the tension lifting from her muscles.
The kahr released her and stood back to stroke a hand through her hair. “Dismissed, men.”
The guards filed off tidily and left the pair alone.
She did look very beautiful in her white fur and green satin coat as it swirled about her body. Thick flakes of white snow began to gather in her auburn hair, settling like spring flowers. Artemi interrupted his reverie, probably tired of his incessant stares: “Let’s go back to your rooms.”
Her flame was growing cold. Morghiad removed his symbol-emblazoned cloak and wrapped it around her, which she seemed to find rather amusing. He held her close as they walked back to their chambers. Along with her headaches had come an increasing desire for independence. She wanted to be out riding, walking or practising with the sword when he was busy with his own duties and she abhorred asking his permission. The kahr wanted to accommodate her in all these things, to give her some freedom and anticipate her moments of claustrophobia. But it was difficult when her life was at stake; difficult when her life was so important. The more he cared for her, the more he realised he could not keep hold of her, and yet the tighter he wished to grasp her.
“What troubles you? Are you missing your cloak already?” She smiled up at him as they walked.
Morghiad moved his hand to her waist. “No. What would you like to get up to tomorrow?”
“With you?” She felt hopeful, and mischievous.
“I’m sorry, Artemi, I have another meeting to sort out this government. Likely it will take all day. Is there somewhere you’d like to visit or perhaps I can send a good sword hand to fight you?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather stay close to you for the moment. I’ll remain in the castle, if that’s where you’re having the meeting.”
He nodded.
“There are still parts of this building I’ve never explored.” Artemi pulled the cloak so that it fitted around her more snugly. “It’s going to happen soon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
When they entered his apartments she draped his cloak over the back of the armchair and sat him down on the edge of the bed. There was no question that she commanded him in private. “I have a gift for you.” She grinned.
Morghiad hoped it would be something he could take to the cells with him.
She went to the dresser, upon which a wrapped package lay. “I had this delivered from a shop in the city. I don’t expect you to like it immediately, but I know I have chosen well...” Artemi handed him the soft parcel.
He frowned. She ought not to be buying anything for him. “My la -”
“Shut up and open it.”
Morghiad obeyed and set about un-wrapping the gift. Whatever it was felt weighty and flexible, like heavy fabric. He felt half exited, half fearful. When the last of the paper had been removed he spied folds of deep, blue velvet; so dark it was almost black. It looked and felt rather expensive. The kahr gazed up at her, about to speak.
She cut him off again. “Find out what it is first, and then you may reprimand me.”
He carefully unfurled the material and laid it on the bed next to him. It was a full-length, perfectly tailored coat, split for riding and subtly edged in gold. Morghiad had never owned anything so understatedly extravagant.
The wielder was pleased with his silence. “A beautiful man should wear beautiful clothes. And besides, you have spent the last few years dressing me so it is high time I did the same for you.”
“You will turn me into a peacock of a man.”
She laughed. “I don’t believe anyone would think that of you. Are you going to try it on?”
He stood and unbuckled his old black coat. It had seen better days, and numerous fighting ones. Artemi watched closely as he slid his arms into the new one. It fitted like a glove around his chest and arms, before dropping freely from his waist. Gold buttons marched up the front of it and it was split highly at the left side for his sword, should he wish to wear the belt beneath the coat. Morghiad did not like that arrangement, and re-fastened the belt on the outside. He looked at Artemi for reassurance, feeling a little silly.
The woman stared at him. He could feel her love and sexual desire burning away, but there was something new there: a cascading feeling that made her skin prickle. “You will make a wonderful king. And not just because of your mind, lineage or your sword skills. Now you truly look like one, and a legendary one at that.”
He had no idea how to respond. How could he accept this when he had misled her? Guilt plagued his conscience, and so he did the only thing he could think of to rid himself of it. Morghiad picked her up, hooked her legs about his midriff and pressed her against the wall. Flames tore through his face as he kissed her, erasing all the thoughts he’d had before. These moments with her were the only moments of true clarity, when no events intervened and no worries interceded. It had been selfish of him, he knew, to keep her here when she could be hidden in the safety of a provincial farm. But as she pulled at his clothing and pressed her soft, rounded breasts against him he believed that selfishness had been entirely correct. She was supposed to be here; ruling Calidell had always been her destiny, and he was merely her facilitator. He would be the stepping-stone she needed to make her next legend, and fate had decided his love for her would be the bedrock for it. The pair fell to the floor, where they spent the entire night riding the ecstasy of their Blaze-enhanced sex.
King Acher blinked hard as the lights danced on the ceiling above him. Sometimes they formed shapes he could almost recognise, but mostly they were abstract curiosities that kept him awake. No one else ever claimed to see them, and they only flashed before him when he was alone. At first he had been sure it was a trick of a witch, but no kanaala he had asked knew what he was talking about. Acher feared he was starting to go mad. It happened to older people, so he had heard. One too many centuries on this Earth and your brain started to rot inside its casing. But he would have expected to be a thousand before this happened! He was only three-hundred and sixty-bloody-seven! Acher rose from the black velvet chaise and paced his quarters. The lights followed him around the room. Suhla was absent this evening and he was glad for some time alone. She was pretty enough, and loyal. But the girl was entirely stupid. The king hoped the child she produced would take its brains from him. And he hoped
it would be male. A queen would never do for Calidell. He thought briefly of Tylena, the woman who happened to get herself killed in the same year as Morghiad’s birth; a convenient substitute for Medea. Both women appeared to merge into one in his mind, these days. He remembered that he had loved Medea, but that she had been a filthy wielder. She could have lived in such wealth if she’d accepted his kind offer. All the woman had to do was undergo quenching to remove her of that cursed fire. True, she’d never have been safe to take to bed, but she’d have made a fine decoration for the court. Instead she’d left him with that pathetic excuse for a son. And no wonder he was so useless at every task he was set; the boy’s father had been just as soft – weeping over a dead woman before defending his children.
Morghiad was becoming a bothersome issue. Several times now he had directly defied Acher over military matters and the king was not about to lie back like a benay-gosa and accept it. No, he needed to punish Morghiad severely for that. Taking that fine, red-haired girl off him would be the first step. Acher had been far too generous in allowing the boy to have her. Perhaps a stint in the cells would be a good re-enforcer. A noise outside his chambers caught his attention. Someone was arguing with one of the guards.
“... This is an urgent matter, I must see his majesty.”
“The king does not like to be bothered at this time in the evening. Come back tomorrow,” came a muffled response.
“I’m telling you, he would want to know about this.”
Acher recognised the visitor’s voice and northern accent: Hegard. The mercenary had proven himself reliable in matters which required a certain level of discretion, and had come highly recommended by one of his most prolific provincial law enforcers. The king had heard enough and went to open the gilt door. “Let him in.”
City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) Page 38