The queen nodded. “We concur with your analysis. It makes for a grim but accurate assessment. We trust your shadowmen will keep a close but discreet watch on Lords Sheldon, Turner, Hunter, and Anders.”
“It is already being done.”
“Then the stage is set. We will spin our webs and watch to see who is entangled by their own words and actions.” In a thoughtful voice, the queen added, “We suspect the traitor will tip his hand by being overzealous in his professed loyalty. With a smile on his face, the traitor will seek to distract us from the knife hidden in his hand. We must learn the traitor’s identity before he gets close enough to strike.” Sitting back in her chair, the queen fingered the strand of pearls at her neck. “The murder of the two soldiers will be ‘discovered’ later today by a member of the Rose Squad. A full council will be convened to discuss the threat. The three of us will wear masks of shock at the council table.” She stared pointedly at Prince Stewart. “Play your parts well. We must out-charade the traitor in order to see behind his mask.” Waving her hand in dismissal, the queen added, “There is much to be done. We thank you for your advice and we release you to your duties.”
At the queen’s words, both men came forward to kiss her emerald ring of office before taking their leave.
Sitting alone in the council chambers, the queen considered the threat posed by the Red Horns. She had no doubt that her opponent was both devious and brilliant, but the queen had practice in dealing with both. Few men could appreciate how difficult it was for a woman to gain and then hold a throne. The days ahead would be dangerous but Liandra had no intention of losing to the Red Horns. When it came to plots within plots, she had yet to find her equal.
57
Jordan
Word that the bard from Seaside was playing spread through the south side of the city like wildfire. Jordan knew her brother was good, but the size of the crowd amazed her. The Green Stag was crowded with families, the low hum of conversation filling the pub’s common room. Jordan was glad they’d decided to have an early supper, laying claim to a table near the front.
At Justin’s request, they tried their best not to stand out, but it simply wasn’t possible. Stewart wore the boiled leathers of a common soldier but there was no hiding the handsome crown prince. Having two Octagon knights at their table did not help. The mere sight of surcoats emblazoned with maroon octagons stirred interest, but Sir Blaine also carried a hero’s blue sword and Sir Tyrone was fascinating with his dark ebony skin. Whispers and stares swirled around the tavern, drawing the owner to their table. Marg Staghorn made a loud show of greeting the prince and the two knights, insisting the first round of drinks was on the house. Shirking attention, Justin fled to a back room with the excuse that he needed to practice. Jordan, Jemma and Kath smothered smiles, enjoying the men’s embarrassment, while Duncan seemed oblivious to it all, an island of calm in his black leathers.
The friends tucked into a hearty meal of savory meat pies and tankards of rich dark ale. The fare was simple but tasty. Jordan enjoyed her lamb pie, but she could not help noticing the suggestive looks the other women kept throwing Stewart’s way. Annoyed, she possessively rubbed her thigh against his leg. He flashed her a smile that took all her doubts away.
Sir Blaine also garnered the interest of more than a few fair-haired lasses. The tall lanky knight was handsome in his own way, yet Jordan thought it curious that Kath showed no interest in him. She studied her sword sister, sitting next to Duncan, a pensive look on her face, paying more attention to her meat pie than the conversation. Surprised to see Kath so withdrawn, Jordan leaned forward to try to draw her into the conversation, but then Justin emerged from the back room, his small harp cradled against his chest.
Applause rippled through the common room, leaving an undercurrent of expectation. Justin took his place on a tall stool by the roaring fireplace. Bending over his small harp, he tuned and tested the strings. Jordan smiled. She’d once asked her brother if his harp really needed tuning before every performance. Justin had winked and replied that whether the harp needed it or not, the tuning of the instrument was a bard’s trick to gather the attention of the audience without saying a word. The trick seemed to be working. The low murmur of conversation stilled and the faces of the crowd turned toward the bard like flowers toward the sun.
Justin did not keep them waiting. Finished with his adjustments, he set his fingers to the strings and began to rip through a series of rousing chords. Jordan smiled as Justin launched into a lively sea chantey popular with the sailors of Seaside. The rhythm proved contagious, sweeping through the Stag. Smiling, the audience swayed and clapped to the chantey. Jordan was surprised to find the seaman’s ditty so popular with a bunch of land-lovers. Her brother must have spent more time in the Stag than anyone realized.
The tempo of the chantey increased and the Stag’s patrons clapped faster, chanting the sailor’s refrain to the captain’s orders. With just one song, Justin had captured his audience, almost like magic.
Finished with the sea chantey, Justin moved to other songs beloved across all Erdhe. Well-known classics like the Milkmaid’s Dilemma, the Dog and the Pussy Cat, and the Lover’s Knot kept the audience involved. More people streamed into the Stag, crowding the tables. As the latecomers crammed into the Stag, the intensity of the music somehow increased till it seemed like the small harp was strung with raw emotions instead of ordinary strings.
Jordan glanced around the tavern, watching the faces of the patrons. Bright eyes, hearty smiles, and clapping hands proved the crowd hung on every chord. Her brother had the gift.
Justin launched into a new set of songs, rousing the audience to laughter with the Farmer and the Donkey, and then he brought them to tears with the Ballad of the Forgotten Princess. Playing for the better part of an hourglass, he led the crowd through a gamut of emotions before the music stilled to silence.
Released from the spell, the crowd broke into a deafening round of applause, demanding more. As Justin bowed to his audience, a serving girl brought the bard a large tankard of ale. He raised the tankard in salute, and then took a long swallow, signaling the start of the break.
A bevy of serving girls poured from the backroom. Balancing trays above their heads, they circulated the Stag, offering fresh tankards of ale, cider, and spiced wine. A cheerful tide of conversation flooded back into the great room as the patrons took their ease.
Stewart ordered a round of drinks for their table. Leaning toward Jordan, he said, “I’ve heard your brother play before, but I had no idea he was this good.”
Flushed with a sister’s pride, she smiled. “It is only when you hear him play to an audience that you understand the true power of his music.” Glancing around the crowded tavern, she added, “Justin truly has the bard’s gift. The people of Pellanor seem to love him almost as much as the people of Seaside.”
Jordan noticed that Justin’s guest, Samson, was staring at the bard with something akin to awe on his face. The shy young man from Coronth was a stranger, but any friend of Justin’s was more than welcome at their table. Reaching across, she tapped the young man on the shoulder. “What do you think of Justin’s music?”
The skinny young man blushed and stammered. “I didn’t know the Princ…I mean, Justin, was so good. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard such music.”
Before Jordan could reply, a hush settled back across the common room. The bard returned to his stool, nestling his small harp on his lap. A flurry of chords ripped through the tavern, drawing a gasp from the crowd. Justin launched into complex melody that stretched the range of the harp, his fingers flying in a blur of notes. When he finished, the great room hushed to a solemn stillness. Into this quiet, Justin said, “Now I’d like to play something new for you, something I’ve just finished writing. It’s called The Ballad of the Flame.”
Justin tightened the strings of the small harp, heightening the tension in the common room. Carefully setting his fingers to the strings, he began to play.
The first notes evoked a haunting melody, his clear tenor voice weaving words to the music.
With open eyes we did not see.
The horror came we let it be.
And when he failed to pass the test,
We thought him guilty like the rest
Who knew that I’d be next?
We did not hear their sobs and tears.
We offered only cruelest jeers.
To those they chained upon the rack,
We closed our minds and turned our back.
Who knew that I’d be next?
Beware to claim what priests’ desire,
Daughter, home, or wealth acquired.
Whispers started by a liar,
Innocent condemned to fire.
Who knew that I’d be next?
Darkness spreads across our souls,
We turned our neighbors in for gold.
We hid amidst a chanting mob,
Devotion to a craven god.
Who knew that I’d be next?
No god of love could be so cruel,
Loved ones used as living fuel.
Join now brothers and make a stand,
And drive this evil from our land,
Who knew that I’d be next?
We must act now or live in shame,
To see good folk die in the flame.
No longer to this con we kneel.
Arise and fight this flame with steel,
Fight now or you’ll be next!
The melody hung in the air long after the bard had finished. Looking up from his small harp, Justin’s face was full of trepidation. He sat on the edge of his stool, waiting for the crowd’s reaction.
Jordan held her breath, knowing how much the crowd’s approval meant to him.
The mood in the room was complex and hard to read, almost as if each person silently weighed the message of the music. One person applauded. Soon one turned to many. An avalanche of clapping swept through the great room. “Again! Again!” The room fairly shook with the chant, the people paying the bard the highest compliment.
Jordan clapped with the others, happy for her brother.
Justin flashed a dazzling smile. Bending his head toward the small harp, he began to repeat the opening chords.
Watching from the front table, Jordan wiped a tear from her eye. Her brother was amazing. Listening to the ballad a second time, she prayed the gods would keep Justin safe. Their father had granted Justin’s request to take his music to Coronth. Jordan understood her brother’s desire to make a difference, but she also feared for his safety. Coronth was a dangerous place. As the haunting melody washed through the tavern, a chill ran down her back. She prayed to the gods to keep her favorite brother safe.
58
Danly
With a final thrust Danly finished with the girl. Freeing himself, he rolled sideways, sprawling naked and sweaty on the sheets. Danly slapped the harlot across her upturned rump, signaling he was through. He would have liked another romp but he didn’t want the leader of the Red Horns to catch him with his pants down.
Shielding the bedside table, he flicked open the secret catch of the poison ring and sprinkled the alchemist’s white powder into an empty goblet. Filling the goblet with rich red wine, he swirled the mixture with his finger and then turned back to the girl. Holding the goblet to her lips, he forced her to drink. A trickle of dark red wine escaped, running down the side of her chin. Against her fair white skin it looked like blood. Tipping the goblet, he forced the rest of the mixture into the girl’s ample mouth, igniting a touch of fear in her eyes. Her fear excited him. Pity he didn’t have the time to indulge himself. Perhaps next time he would do more than simply ride her.
It wasn’t long before the girl’s eyes glazed and her breathing slowed. To be sure, he pinched her right nipple. The girl did not even flinch. Satisfied, he rose from the bed to dress. Fastening the gold buttons on his emerald green vest, he left the bedroom for the outer sitting room.
A warm blaze crackled in the fireplace. Danly filled a fresh goblet with brandy and took a seat in a plush armchair by the fire. Sipping the brandy, he kept watch on the wooden wall panel that hid the secret staircase. He did not have long to wait. With a soft click, the panel swung open and the leader of the Red Horns joined him in the small sitting room.
Bowing to the prince, the counselor crossed the room and poured himself a generous portion of brandy. Swirling the fine liquor, he raised the glass in a toast. “To the future king of Lanverness.”
Danly raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
The counselor settled into the opposite armchair, firelight flickering across his face. “I trust you enjoyed yourself this evening.”
The man was baiting him again. Danly knew the counselor held his sexual adventures in contempt. Brushing the remark aside, the prince parried with a touch of anger. “I trust you came here to report on the cause rather than to simply drink the madam’s excellent brandy?”
The counselor’s gaze narrowed. “Progress has indeed been made. The first seeds of deception have been planted. Two soldiers were murdered as props for our little charade. An infantryman from the Rose Squad discovered the bodies. One of the dead held a note indicating a plot by the so-called Griffins to put a king on the Rose Throne. The shock of the murders was enough to catapult the news directly to the queen. The queen convened a meeting of her most trusted advisors. I did my best to look shocked.” The counselor grinned as he stared into his goblet, swirling his brandy. “And now the queen’s vaunted shadowmen chase their tails, searching for the imaginary Griffins. We’ve bought ourselves some breathing room.” Staring into the fire, the leader added in a musing voice, “I thought it was most interesting that the queen asked for extra guards to protect her royal person, but no one suggested additional guards for her second son.” He stared at the prince, a sneer on his face. “The queen is such a loving mother, don’t you think?”
Danly bristled at the insult. He knew his royal mother was a bitch but he did not like hearing it from others, especially the counselor.
“And why is it that your brother, Prince Stewart, gets a seat on the council and you do not? Could it be that your royal mother does not trust you?”
The counselor was full of nasty barbs. Danly took a long drink of brandy, trying to quench his anger. He glared at the counselor and threw a barb of his own. “So when will the Red Horns make their move? It’s past time I took my rightful place on the Rose Throne.”
“Patience, my prince, all in good time. There are still obstacles to be surmounted before we can tip our hand.”
“Obstacles or excuses?”
“Obstacles of course. We will only get one chance to grasp the Rose Throne. We cannot afford any mistakes.”
“So what are these obstacles and when will we be ready?”
“One of them is the crown prince and his loyal band of men.” The counselor sipped his brandy, his gaze locked on Danly. “Since we could not turn your brother’s men to our cause, we must find a way to get the Rose Squad out of the palace, or better yet, out of the city. I am working on a plan to do just that.” He gave the prince a piercing stare. “You understand of course, that in order to ascend to the throne your older brother must first be dead. I trust you have no qualms about eliminating this particular obstacle?”
Danly smiled. So this was the reason the counselor goaded him. It was almost amusing how little the counselor understood him. “I assure you, I have no love for my insipid older brother. Stewart is nothing more than a lap dog for the queen. You have my royal permission to execute him.” Putting steel in his voice, Danly added, “But not the queen. The royal bitch will kneel before me and I alone will decide her fate. If her tears amuse me, I may spare her life, confining her to the deepest dungeons of Castle Tandroth, or I may let the royal executioner take her head. Only a king should make a decision regarding the life of a queen.”
The counselor bowed his head in acceptance. “It will be as you have ordered,
my prince. The queen is a mere woman not a leader of men. Once the swords come out, she will not be a factor in the uprising.”
Danly smiled, looking forward to the day. He poured himself a second brandy. “How long will it take to get everything in order?”
“We will strike once Prince Stewart and the Rose Squad are out of the way. Once we have confirmation that the crown prince is dead, then the revolt can begin.” The counselor rose and bowed to the prince. “And now, with your leave, I should go. It is not wise for the two of us to spend too much time together, even in secret.”
The prince waved approval for the Red Horn to take his leave.
The counselor opened the secret panel. “Remember my prince, we must remain vigilant against the queen’s shadowmen. It would not do to make a mistake when our plans are so close to fruition.” The counselor stared at the prince as if to reinforce his point. “I look forward to the day when you will take your rightful place on the Rose Throne. Lanverness deserves to be ruled by a strong king.” With a last bow, the leader of the Red Horns disappeared down the hidden staircase. The wooden panel clicked shut, hiding the secret entrance.
The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1) Page 38