To Darkness Fled bok-2

by Jill Williamson

  Achan snapped out of the daze Sir Caleb's comment had evoked. "That's not funny."

  "If Hamartano would truly be marrying one daughter to Esek and the other to Achan," Inko said, "he's not really being our ally. By his pledging one daughter to each man, he's securing himself a queen. That's being his only agenda."

  Sir Caleb snorted. "Don't assume Lord Hamartano has an agenda. He simply does his wife's will."

  "And no woman I ever met would be more capable of assassination than Lady Jaira," Achan said. "I'd be dead in a week. She's hated me from first glance."

  Sparrow nudged his foot again. "Only when she believed you were a lowly stray. Give the lady a chance to redeem herself now that she knows your true birthright."

  Achan spoke through clenched teeth. "Enough jesting."

  Sparrow shrugged. "I am only pointing out that Lady Jaira is known to fancy high-born, wealthy men."

  Achan's tone lightened. "Well, I'm not wealthy. Am I, Sir Gavin?"

  Sir Gavin stroked his beard braid. "Achan, don't worry-"

  "I am sure we could raise enough to turn Lady Jaira's regal head," Sparrow said.

  Achan stood up so he could tower over the boy. "Then why don't you marry her?"

  Sparrow propped his fists on his hips. "We both know how she feels about strays, Your Highness."

  "Hush, lads!" Sir Gavin said.

  "And don't even joke about an alliance with Jaelport, Vrell." Sir Caleb's bushy eyebrows pinched. "You cannot trust them. Ever."

  Achan fell back onto the cushy bed. "I don't want to marry anyone. I just want to lie low for a while."

  "People swore fealty to you at Council," Sir Caleb said. "The people want you as their king. You cannot hide. And you should choose a bride soon. Align with a powerful ally. If Esek is sworn in as king and takes up residence in Armonguard, the people will likely protest, possibly revolt. We need to gather supporters who'll rally the people in our favor when the timing is right. We need organization. A bride is a necessary step."

  "But not the first one and nothing we must decide tonight." Sir Gavin fell onto one of the white chairs and groaned. "Put it out of your mind for now."

  "But I…why should I…" Achan stammered. "You're really going to force me to marry?"

  "Every king must have a queen, Your Highness." Sir Caleb pulled his cloak off over his head, causing his short blond hair to frizz out. "Er'Rets has been without a king for too long. Even now, if Esek or even you were to take the throne, many won't follow. They've been following their own agendas for so long, they don't want a king. We must convince them they need one.

  "Most Kinsmen, true Kinsmen, will follow you. But the Kinsman population alone won't give us enough allies to take the throne. The majority-Poroo, Otherling, Giants, Chuma, Wildermen, Cela-will follow the coin. We have little funds. A bride can rectify that."

  Achan's stomach churned. "I won't marry someone for money nor will I bribe people to follow me. Esek will always offer more, and when my back is turned, someone will stick a knife in it."

  "Aye," Sir Gavin said. "Know then that you'll always have far more enemies than allies until this is over."

  Achan stared into the blazing flames in the hearth. "That I'm used to."

  A knock at the door stilled the conversation. Inko let in two servants, carrying a wooden tub between them. Three more followed with steaming kettles of water. The servants set the tub in front of the hearth and began filling it.

  A sixth man entered holding dark blue folded fabric and bowed. He handed the fabric to Sparrow. "A robe for after His Highness' bath." He stepped toward Achan. "And I'm to measure His Royal Highness for his new ensemble."

  "For the sake of the gods," Achan murmured.

  Sir Caleb waved him forward. "Nothing too garish, now."

  The tailor measured Achan's waist, chest, arms, and legs, then bowed and departed. The other servants left as well.

  Sir Gavin turned to Sir Caleb. "I'll stay behind with Achan if you and Inko would like to visit the steams. He'll be ready to dress by the time you're finished, then I can go down."

  "I can dress myself," Achan said.

  Inko lifted his pack. "Vrell can be coming along. Vrell?"

  Sparrow's eyes widened and he shifted from Achan's side to Sir Gavin's chair.

  Sir Gavin put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I need Vrell's help. He'll have to go later."

  9

  Vrell sat cross-legged on her bed in the servant's quarters adjoining Achan's chambers, perusing the sparse contents of her satchel. Esek's sleeve was the only fabric left. Perhaps Lord Eli would replenish her stores. She would hate to have to use Esek's sleeve as a bandage. She also hoped to bathe. Her skin felt like a tree in Darkness.

  The tiny room was only big enough for two beds separated by a narrow fireplace. A sliver of mirrorglass hung above the fireplace. She carried her toothcloth and toothpick there and began to pick her teeth, savoring the opportunity to clean them without an audience. Her solitude inspired her to bloodvoice Mother. She explained where she was and all that had transpired.

  I am glad you confided in Sir Gavin, Mother said. You can trust his wisdom.

  Sir Gavin said you stormed the mage. He explained the concept, but what did you do exactly?

  Storming is a complicated process. You must not attempt to do it on your own. Sir Gavin told me how it weakened you. I was foolish to risk you without knowing how you would fare. When you are home, I will teach you all you want to know about your gift. For now, do nothing to endanger yourself. Promise me?

  Yes, Mother. Vrell's gums itched. She traded her toothpick for the toothcloth and pressed it against her bleeding gums. What happened the day of the Council meeting? Why did we lose contact?

  One of Lord Nathak's shadows had been working in our kitchens. He tainted my meal with aleh. It had been so long since I had tasted it, I didn't realize what happened until it was too late. I instantly requested karpos fruit but there was none to be found. My guards investigated and discovered that a servant was seen leaving the castle with a basket of karpos. It seems Lord Nathak's shadow stole them all.

  Vrell rubbed her toothcloth over her bottom teeth. Did you find out who he was?

  A new man, naturally. Went by the name of Jamon. Captain Loam believes the name is false and he was one of Esek Nathak's old squires.

  Really? Which one? For Vrell had met many over recent years, though most did not stay squires for long. Esek tended to injure them.

  Captain Loam did not recall. Only that he'd seen the man at tournament.

  The door to Vrell's room swung in. Vrell closed her mind and hid her teeth-cleaning tools behind her back.

  Sir Gavin entered, looking clean and tidy. His long white hair slicked back on top, partly tied back. The rest hung straight to his waist, as did his beard braid, now smooth and tight. He set a stack of clothing on Vrell's bed. "Achan went with Caleb to fit the clothes Lord Eli ordered. The tailor sent this for you. Should you like a bath, Achan's water is still warm. Sorry I can't get fresh, but I'll stand guard. Also…" He tapped a small leather bundle atop the folded clothing. "I asked Lord Eli if he had a gift I could take my niece in Melas."

  Vrell looked from Sir Gavin's blue eye to his brown. "I did not know you had a niece."

  "I don't." The old knight winked his brown eye. "Enjoy your bath, my lady."

  Vrell opened the bundle and found a mirror, comb, and bar of rose-scented soap. She squealed and hugged Sir Gavin around the middle. "Thank you, good sir! I shall be quick."

  Vrell turned every nude statue in Achan's room to face the wall, and, despite the used water, savored the bath. She couldn't tell her leech wounds from mosquito bites at this point. For all she'd been through in the past few days, she was remarkably unscathed. She tugged the snarls from her hair with her new comb. Mold speckled the belly of her padded disguise. She needed to air it out, fill it with fresh wool. How would she ever have the opportunity?

  Reluctantly, she put the undergarment back on
and dressed in the royal blue tunic and black trousers Sir Gavin had brought. She cracked open the door to the hallway.

  Sir Gavin turned to the door. "Feel better?"

  "Much." Vrell exited and closed the door behind her.

  Sir Gavin offered his arm. "Time for dinner."

  Vrell slid her fingers around Sir Gavin's forearm and allowed him to lead her down the hall. What freedom to be herself, however brief. She straightened her back and held her head high. Footsteps on the stairs caused her to release Sir Gavin's arm. A servant flowed off the landing and strode the opposite direction, holding a kettle of water.

  Vrell flushed. How could she have been so careless?

  "My apologies," Sir Gavin said in a low voice. "Probably not the best idea."

  Vrell pushed the near miss away with a smile as they made their way downstairs. "How long will we remain here?"

  "Just tonight. Lord Eli invited us for longer, but I'll not tarry. Not here."

  Vrell agreed. She did not trust Lord Eli either.

  Sir Gavin stopped on the landing halfway down where the staircase furled out into the pillared foyer like a river into the sea. Hearty smells drifted on the air. Vrell's stomach growled, then tightened when she saw Achan.

  He stood with Lord Eli at the entrance to the great hall, looking every bit like a rich, exotic prince. He wore a black leather doublet over a royal blue tunic embroidered with silver thread. The sleeves dangled past his fingertips. Silver buckles cinched black trousers below his knees where they met shiny black boots. His black hair slicked back into a braided tail, held in place by a sparkling jewel. No bandage covered his scruffy cheeks, but his facial hair had been trimmed into the start of a beard that would eventually hide his scars.

  But nothing could hide his sour expression. Such chagrin could be due to the fact he had been dressed like Esek, yet Vrell bet Lady Jaira Hamartano's presence was the likely cause. She stood with her mother, sister, and Lord Eli's wife at the bottom of the stairs.

  Vrell paused beside Sir Gavin and frowned. Jaira's blue dress suspiciously matched Achan's ensemble. The gown clung to her every curve as if painted onto her skin. It had a wide, revealing neckline with little cap sleeves that dripped black beads down her slender arms. She wore black satin gloves to her elbows. The slender skirt fanned out from her knees like the tail of a fish. A silver chain draped around her narrow waist with a matching blue reticule attached.

  Jaira's dozens of fine black braids were piled atop her head like an ebony crown, baring her long neck and shoulders. Shiny obsidian teardrops dangled from her ears. A third larger stone hung from a thin cord around her neck and plunged toward her low neckline. Her olive skin looked bronze under the flickering candelabras and sparkled as if she had bathed in mineral dust. Paint reddened her cheeks, outlined her eyes in black, and dusted each eyelid blue.

  Vrell had never seen such repulsive beauty. She could hardly bear to see Jaira standing with Achan in such a way. Lord Eli had plotted these matching ensembles, she had no doubt. Vrell took a deep breath and tried to create a neutral expression, but a sudden thought stole her breath. She had been dressed to match Achan as well.

  As his squire.

  She turned her gaze upon the vestibule. Lord Eli left Achan to go to his wife, Lady Katiolakan. They wore matching ensembles of gold and green. He led his wife to Achan. Lady Mandzee and her mother walked behind them, themselves clothed beautifully. Appropriately. Mandzee wore violet and her mother wore peach. Neither was dressed as bait. Did these people think Achan a womanizing fool like Esek? Did they hope he might fall for Jaira's display?

  Switch places with me, Sparrow? You be prince and I'll be squire.

  Vrell jumped. Achan had just bloodvoiced her. Without knocking. Her shields were up, and still she sensed the open connection between them. How was he doing that? It had to be his power. She could not accomplish such a feat.

  Sir Gavin inhaled through his nose. "Something smells sour," he said with a lilt to his voice. "What do you think of the colors blue and black tonight?"

  Vrell wrinkled her nose. "They look like a bruise."

  Sir Gavin laughed. "That they do, my lady. I quite agree."

  *

  Why didn't Sparrow answer? Perhaps Achan hadn't messaged correctly. He did forget to knock first, and he hadn't concentrated hard. Yet he'd managed to keep his connection open to Sir Caleb most the afternoon as Sir Caleb had groomed him. He had thought the same process might work for Sparrow. Apparently not.

  Achan would have done anything to stand on the staircase with Sir Gavin and Sparrow. He hadn't moved since the women had entered. He wished everyone would pass him by. He made eye contact with Jaira when Lord Eli had brought the ladies over, but he didn't dare look in her direction again. Never had he seen a woman dressed so brazenly. He cursed his eyes for wanting to look back.

  Sir Caleb, Sir Gavin, and Inko had been given matching white tunics with leather vests and brown trousers. Inko and Sir Caleb hadn't shaved. Getting started on their beards for Tsaftown, Achan supposed. He couldn't wait to be there.

  Lord Eli led his wife before Achan and bowed low. "Your Highness, may I present my wife, Lady Katiolakan?" He held out his wife's hand as if passing her over for Achan to catch. She was pretty and plump with grey skin and sleek black hair. Achan lifted his hand instinctively, then lowered it. What did they expect him to do?

  Take her hand and kiss it, Your Majesty, Sir Caleb said. Have you never seen such a greeting?

  Kiss it?

  You're the future king of Er'Rets and must act with dignity and respect in formal gatherings.

  Hoping his expression was dignified, Achan reached out. His arm seemed to belong to someone else. He took Lady Katiolakan's dainty, gold-gloved hand and stared at it.

  Try to look as if you know what you're doing, Your Highness, Sir Caleb said. Say something witty and kind, then softly kiss her hand and let go. You're not marrying her. It's not meant to be heartfelt.

  Achan forced yet another smile from his lips. The act caused his freshly wounded cheek to throb. "It's an honor, my lady." He pressed his lips to the gold silk glove then released it.

  Pig snout, he wanted to leave.

  Lady Katiolikan rewarded his actions with a screeching giggle that took Achan back to the miserable days spent walking in Esek's procession. "The joy is being mine, Your Highness. I am being appalled to be discovering this treachery in Sitna. My heart is going out to all you have been suffering. The gods will be demanding retribution, I am being certain."

  How should a prince respond to such? "Aye, it was an outrage, my lady."

  Good. But next time say "yes" not "aye." You sound like a soldier.

  Achan clenched his teeth. Why is this evening necessary?

  Because we need supplies if we're to make it to Tsaftown.

  Tsaftown. Yes. Achan would focus on Tsaftown. He'd play this role for a chance to see Lady Tara again. A lady with charm. And obvious virtue.

  Lord Eli gestured toward the other women. "May I also present to Your Highness my special guests from Jaelport. Queen Torrezia Hamartano and her daughters, Princess Mandzee and Princess Jaira."

  Achan couldn't help his bulging eyes. Princess of what?

  Cela Duchy. Yes, I know the Hamartano women are vile creatures, but you must not sink to their standards. Dignity and respect, if you will.

  The ladies each curtsied. Thankfully, none offered her hand. Achan bowed with rigid formality without making eye contact. "I'm honored."

  Jaira surged forward and fell to her knees, seizing the legs of Achan's trousers. "My lord prince, I beg your forgiveness for my serpent tongue. The words I spoke when last we met were those of a spoiled child. I promise you, I have grown in wisdom and grace since then, and I pray you do not hold my behavior in Sitna against me."

  Achan blinked at the pile of black braids pinned to the top of Jaira's head. It seemed an eternity before he could fathom how to respond, and when he did, he barely managed a whisper. "Not at al
l, my lady. Think on it no more and enjoy your evening. I've heard Lord Eli is a tremendous host. Please, rise and tell me if the rumor is true."

  Sir Caleb's voice invaded his mind again. Well said, Your Highness. You're your father's son after all.

  His insides coiled, but he offered his hand. He was slightly humbled at how she'd humiliated herself, but he still didn't trust her a hair. Now, if she were to treat Sparrow kindly with no witnesses present, he might believe her claim of having grown.

  Jaira slipped her black-gloved hand in his. It felt oily. She smelled strongly of a spice he couldn't recognize, as if she'd bathed in the scent. He tried to pull her up, but her skirt had tangled under her knees. She gathered the layers of blue fabric in one hand and tugged. With a yelp she went down again. Achan caught her waist and lifted her to her feet. She stood in his arms, looking up into his eyes, cheeks flushed maroon.

  She did that on purpose, you know.

  Achan released Jaira and glanced over her head to meet Sparrow's eyes. The boy stood at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, leaning against a fluted pillar. The smirk on his round face said it all.

  You can hear me, Achan said. Why didn't you answer before?

  She is such the actress. What performance will she give next? Perhaps the tale of the princess who wins the heart of the young prince.

  Funny. I'd like to see you play my role. Sir Caleb put oil in my hair. This isn't exactly fun.

  Oh, yes. It does look dreadful to have beautiful women literally throwing themselves at your feet. How ever do you manage?

  Jaira pressed a hand over the black stone on her chest. "Thank you, Your Highness. The things a woman must wear to be beautiful. I'm afraid they can be a hindrance."

  And now she fishes for compliments. Well? Go on then. You must oblige. It is only polite.

  You're such a boil, Sparrow. Achan forced a smile. "They're more than worth the trouble, my lady, I assure you." He met Sparrow's eyes one last time. Happy?

  Quite.

  "We shall feast in my personal dining room," Lord Eli said. "It is more intimate than the great hall." He offered one arm to his wife, his other to Queen Hamartano, and led them through a set of painted doors as high as the vaulted ceiling. "Bring your men, Sir Gavin, Dinner is served."