Dynasty of Rogues

by Jane Fletcher

  Synopsis

  When you're short on friends and long on enemies, things can't get much worse. Until they do... Ranger Riki Sadiq is known as a troublemaker, and in the close knit heretic community, a ero name is hard to lose. Standing sentry duty on a winter's day, all she can see lying ahead is an afternoon of being cold, miserable, and bored. Her mood isn't helped by deliberate goading from people who are supposed to be working with her. Even so, retaliating in kind isn't one of Riki's better ideas. When Riki is dispatched to Westernfort for one last chance in the Rangers, the hostile reception means her list of enemies has become still longer, and prime candidate to head the list is her new patrol corporal, Tanya Coppelli. It is hate at first sight. The way Riki sees it, Tanya may have good looks, talent and sharp wits, but is that any reason to like her? However, if Riki but knew it, trouble of a deadly kind is heading her way. With their lives at stake, Riki and Tanya will have to overcome the mutual antagonism and learn to work together.

  Dynasty of Rogues

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  By the Author

  Wolfsbane Winter

  THE LYREMOUTH CHRONICLES

  The Exile and the Sorceror

  The Traitor and the Chalice

  The Empress and the Acolyte

  The High Priest and the Idol

  THE CELAENO SERIES

  The Walls of Westernfort

  The Temple at Landfall

  Rangers at Roadsend

  Dynasty of Rogues

  Shadow of the Knife

  Dynasty of Rogues

  © 2007 By Jane Fletcher. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-355-6

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: March 2007

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Cindy Cresap and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: J. Barre Greystone

  Cover Image: Tobias Brenner (http://www.tobiasbrenner.de/)

  Cover Design: J. Barre Greystone

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, Cindy Cresap was the most constructively supportive editor that any writer could wish for, even though (aside from the editing process) she stubbornly refuses to tell me how far a block is.

  Having finally been fortunate enough to meet Stacia Seaman in real life, I now know that not only is she a whiz at spotting dangling modifiers, but she also recognises a good Scotch when she meets it

  As ever, Radclyffe and the whole BSB team were both friendly and professional, giving me the warm, confident feeling of knowing that all I needed to worry about was the writing, since everything that needed to be done was covered, in-hand and on schedule.

  I would like to thank Tobi for the cover art and Mary for help with horses in general and their hooves in particular. Also Jo for her critical appraisal, with and without accompanying gestures.

  Dedication

  To Paul and Brent

  brother and brother-in-law

  honest men at last

  Part One

  Against The World

  23 February 561

  Chapter One—The Troublemaker

  Leading Ranger Rikako Sadiq could no longer feel her toes. Her fingers were not faring much better. The icy north wind was the problem, stealing the heat from her. The miserable weather was even less enjoyable than might normally be the case since she was standing on the most exposed spot the sergeant could find. As a lookout position it was a questionable choice. As a place anyone would pick for loafing around on a cold day, it was a complete non-starter.

  Admittedly, the top of the rocks offered an impressive view. On the hillside above, fir trees swept over the contours in a blanket of green. A hundred meters away downhill, the forest ended in a straggling line, where farmers had cleared land for crops and animal pasture. The canyon holding the heretic stronghold of Ginasberg was a wide crack running along the edge of the fields.

  Riki slapped her arms around her sides and yawned. The morning was dragging. Standing lookout would not be so bad if there were something to look out for. Terminal boredom had set in hours before. Her only entertainment was tapping out rhythms as she stamped life back into her feet, and even this had become too painful to be any fun.

  The wind shifted, sneaking under her jacket with cold fingers, pinching at her stomach. Riki tried to seal the gap and looked down enviously at the logging camp beneath the rocks. The workers were out of the wind. They were also moving around, which would keep them warm. Best of all, they had something to do, and people to talk to while they did it. The new mine shaft needed more timber to shore it up, and a group of miners had been sent from Ginasberg to get it.

  Sentry duty was supposedly in case of danger approaching, and the rocks overhanging the camp were ideal for this—as long as the danger approached by swinging through the treetops. However, if whatever it was tried walking along at ground level, it would be completely hidden from view. Fortunately, with winter barely over, there was no risk of Guards being so far from their Homelands.

  Although nothing had been said, Riki was sure the real reason she had been made to stand on lookout was that the sergeant thought she had untied Corporal Lopez’s horse so it had strayed. Nothing could be proved, so the sergeant had settled for unofficial retribution in the form of freezing Riki’s tits off on pointless sentry duty. Riki grimaced as she thought about it. The reason nothing could be proved was that she had not done it. Lopez had been sloppy about taking care of her horse. If Riki had wanted to play a trick, she would have been far more imaginative.

  As she stood there, Riki was studiously trying not to think about what those more imaginative things might be, in case she came up with something too tempting to be ignored. She was in enough trouble as it was.

  Cheers from the miners recalled Riki’s attention. A young woman was lurching into the logging camp, carrying a large metal pot that swung back and forth in an awkward off-beat to her steps. Riki frowned, recognizing the new arrival as Beth. The pot would contain lunch, brought from Ginasberg, half a kilometer away. Hot food, either soup or stew, would be very welcome, but this description did not apply to Beth, and the feeling was mutual. What chance was there that Beth would put her responsibilities as waitress before personal animosity?

  Beth deposited the pot on a tree stump and shrugged a pack off her back. From it, she pulled bowls and bread. The miners left their ropes, saws, and axes and gathered around. After receiving their share, several sat on felled tree trunks to eat. Everyone appeared happy. Laughter rang out. Beth glanced up at Riki a couple of times but showed no sign of bringing her food.

  Riki sighed and settled her eyes on the distance, trying to appear unconcerned. Of course, personal animosity would win every time with Beth. How silly to even pose the question. Probably Beth was hoping for Riki to call out so that she could make a point of ignoring her. Riki would not give her the satisfaction. Eventually Beth would have to bring food up to the rocks, and Riki knew there was nothing she could do to make it happen any quicker.

  Fifteen minutes passed, and the miners had ta
ken second helpings, before Beth trudged into the forest. A few minutes later, she appeared on the uphill side of the rocks, where they emerged from the covering of soil.

  “I’ve brought you your lunch.” Beth’s manner could only be described as sneering.

  “Oh, that’s really kind of you.”

  Riki made sure her own tone and expression suggested nothing other than cheerful sincerity, as if Beth had done her a favor. She fixed her smile before examining what Beth had brought. As Riki had feared, the bowl was half full of cold, watery dregs. The bread was clearly the most overbaked portion Beth could find.

  Beth watched her smugly. “I’m sorry, there wasn’t much left.”

  Riki just nodded and chewed off a mouthful of bread, as if noticing nothing wrong, and was rewarded by seeing Beth’s smirk falter.

  “I’m afraid that bit’s burnt.”

  “It’s fine. I like a decent crust.”

  “I gave the miners more because they’re working, and you’re just standing around up here doing nothing.” Beth was now digging, trying to provoke a reaction.

  “Oh yes, sure. I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

  The lies were worth it for the expression of pique that displaced the last of Beth’s taunting smile. She glowered in silence while Riki drained the bowl and handed it back.

  “Thanks. That was great.”

  Beth snatched the bowl and stomped away. Riki waited until the surly young woman was gone before letting her shoulders slump. Winding Beth up by refusing to rise to the bait was the most fun Riki had felt all day, but Beth was far too predictable to be a challenge. Hot food would have been better, because now, after a morning of being cold, miserable, and bored, all that lay ahead for Riki was an afternoon of being cold, miserable, bored, and hungry.

  Why did Beth have to be so petty? It was six years since Riki had broken her arm, and it had been an accident, a childhood fight that had ended in a fall. Anyway, Beth had started it.

  However, Riki had gotten the blame. She had always gotten the blame. Riki sighed and kicked a loose pebble. It bounced away down the rocks and into the undergrowth clinging to the hillside below. To be fair, she generally was the one responsible, but not that time. She certainly had not been a bully, as Beth claimed. Even though Riki had been fourteen at the time, and Beth only twelve, Beth had been the taller by a clear ten centimeters.

  At one meter fifty-five, Riki was still small and lightly built, but her agility and wiry muscles meant that she could easily hold her own, although she was now far too mature for childish scuffles and similar mischief. Riki’s lips set in a line. How long would it take everyone to notice that she had grown out of her adolescent troublemaking? She still got blamed for far more than she was guilty of—as with Lopez’s straying horse.

  Down in the camp, the miners-cum-lumberjacks returned to their work, all except for Faye, who remained by the stew pot, talking to Beth. From her vantage point, Riki considered them cynically. It was no secret that Beth had her sights set on the young miner. Even Riki had heard the gossip, and she was always last for the rumor mill.

  Maybe Beth volunteered to bring the food in hope of talking to the object of her desire, and inexplicably, Faye was not running away—quite the opposite. Was Beth about to land her catch? The body language certainly suggested it was a possibility. The two were edging closer as they chatted.

  Riki pursed her lips thoughtfully. Trying to be objective, she guessed that Beth was sort of pretty in a bland, brain dead, bitch from hell type of way. Perhaps that was what Faye went for. Riki’s expression changed to a wry grin, with more than a touch of self-mockery. She could hardly claim any sort of expertise on the matter.

  Beth pulled off her wool cap and lay it on the tree stump beside the stew pot, and then tossed her head coyly, so her hair bounced around her face. Riki snorted in derision. Beth could not even flirt imaginatively, although Faye did not seem to mind. Presumably Beth’s imagination was not the source of attraction. Faye put her hand on Beth’s arm and leaned forward to whisper into her ear. The pair giggled like three-year-olds, glanced at the other miners, and then, arm in arm, slipped away into the woods.

  On the other side of the clearing, everyone else was busy. Riki shook her head in scornful bemusement. Why had no one complained about Faye shirking work? They certainly had noticed. Riki was too far away to hear what was said, but from the gestures passing between the group, they appeared to be mainly amused. Even the forewoman had a tolerant smile. All the irritation and discomfort of the morning returned to Riki in a wave of bitterness. In no way would she be allowed to get away with it.

  Riki’s stomach rumbled. She stared at the discarded cap, unable to keep the scowl from her face. How nice to be warm enough to take your hat off, for whatever reason. Riki’s eyes turned to the stew pot beside it. Was it really empty as Beth claimed? A sudden idea bounced into Riki’s head. Immediately, she tried to clamp down on it. Stamping her feet, she turned away, but the thought had taken hold.

  Riki attempted to push back the knowledge that she was cold and hungry, being punished for something she had not done. She tried to forget the smug sneer on Beth’s face. But then her stomach rumbled again, and she gave in. The temptation was far too strong to withstand.

  The miners were all occupied with sawing and splitting a huge fir into manageable lengths of timber. Riki gave them one last look, judging their likely positions for the next few minutes, and then hopped down from the rocks. Her feet landed silently in the soft carpet of pine needles.

  The light undergrowth beneath the trees was mainly snagweed and rock holly, although the first shoots of lemon vine were breaking through the soil. Riki crept down the hillside. Her small, agile build was ideal for sneaking. She had always been good at passing unnoticed, and childhood hikes with her gene mother had given her an empathy with the wilderness.

  The miners’ voices got louder as Riki approached. The mundane comments made it clear that her absence from lookout had not been noticed. Riki grinned as she ducked past the last few trees and reached the edge of the clearing. From the shelter of a knotted clump of snagweed, she peered out. The tree stump bearing the stew pot and Beth’s hat was only two meters away. The miners were all hard at work on the opposite side of camp. Nobody was looking around, and her Ranger’s green uniform should blend into the background. Keeping low, Riki scuttled to the tree stump.

  As she had thought, a good two centimeters of stew remained at the bottom of the pot. The food was now congealed, but Riki could see more than three times as much meat and vegetables sitting there wasted as had been in the bowl she had received. Beth must have deliberately strained the liquid she gave to Riki.

  The ladle was hanging on the side of the pot. Riki picked it up in one hand and Beth’s hat in the other. With a cheery cook’s flourish, she deposited a good dollop of cold stew in the hat, squashed it around to ensure that the wool was nicely coated, and then carefully put the hat back exactly where it had been. Riki hung the ladle over the rim and snuck back into the undergrowth.

  Crouched beneath the snagweed, Riki paused to consider the scene. A niggling doubt about the wisdom of her actions surfaced, but it was too late now. And just how much trouble would she get into? Would Beth even make a complaint, since it might mean owning up to her own spite? Once she had thought about it, she would probably keep quiet, although she was going to create a bit of noise at first, when she put the hat back on.

  At the thought, Riki’s grin returned. Any comeback was going to be worth it. Quite apart from the anticipated amusement, the activity had warmed her up. Riki’s grin got still wider as she began her stealthy return to the lookout rocks.

  A scream ripped through the forest, long and high, slicing the cold air.

  Riki leapt from her crouch, moving into the open. Across the clearing, some miners had instinctively ducked for cover. Others were jerking their heads left and right, trying to work out where the sound came from. The more alert were scrabbling for their axes.
Riki did not wait for them. She raced around the camp, toward the source of the scream, and dived back into the forest.

  Another scream sounded, quieter but more desperate than the first.

  Riki sped between the trees, plowing heedlessly through the barriers of snagweed and rock holly. Her feet skidded on the soft ground. After twenty meters, Riki hurdled over a fallen tree and joined a forest trail marked by two fresh sets of footprints. Riki sprinted along the track. The path led downhill, toward the sound of water. Ahead, the undergrowth was thinning out. Riki rounded one last thicket of rock holly and burst onto the open banks of a stream.

  Ten meters from where she emerged, Beth lay on the ground. Poised over her was a mountain cat, pinning her down. The animal’s dappled rump was toward Riki. Its tail switched back and forth like a whip. Beth’s heels were scrabbling in the mud between its rear legs in a pointless attempt to squirm away. Her arm was across her face and blood was staining the torn sleeve of her jacket.

  Riki ripped her sword from its scabbard and charged forward, shouting. The cat barely responded, just the faintest flick of its ears. Its attention was fixed on the woman under its paws. Open jaws lunged down at Beth’s throat, knocking her arm aside.

  Riki’s sword arced through the air. She did not have the time to get in close for a clean, killing thrust. The blade only made glancing contact with the cat’s tail, barely drawing blood, but that was enough to divert the animal away from Beth. The cat whirled round. Riki leapt back and brought her sword to the guard position.