“The Djaran may be good fighters, who can melt into the desert,” Jaelle said, “but they don’t pay taxes, and they disrupt caravans and steal from them whenever they get the opportunity. What few settled communities exist in this horrible place pay a tariff to the Djaran to ensure peace, since Duke Richelieu doesn’t care what happens this far away from his capital. We Ghajaran always trade for what we want, and we have never terrorized villagers. We migrate as do the nomads, but we return to the same place quite often, and we are always welcome.”
“Your people are a very fine and noble race,” Hawk said. “Your father is the finest man I have ever met. I wish we were with him right now, sleeping soundly in one of those wagons. Notice there is no music; soldiers don’t play the violin and guitar. I prefer a gypsy camp and the gypsy way of life; it is much like our own at Raven’s Nest.” He sighed and pushed his plate aside. “I’m stuffed. Think I’ll stretch my legs. I’ll be back.”
“I should have very much liked to have seen you dance, Jaelle,” Zarnoc said, as Hawk walked out of the tent. “You have never danced for me, and I’ve known you all your life.”
“That’s because I’m always on my best behavior when you’re around.”
After the meal was finished, Zarnoc cleared away the table, plates, and chairs with a wave of his hand. Enough rugs and pillows lay on the floor that the group gathered to play the game of dice Rook had brought with him. Leaning on a large pillow, Taliesin wiggled her toes and watched Wren roll the dice. Jaelle curled next her, resting her head on Taliesin’s shoulder, and tickled her feet whenever the dice were handed to the Raven Mistress. More wine was drunk, and from the bottom of Zarnoc’s wine glass came the sound of gypsy music. It rose and spread across the room, creating a festive atmosphere.
A cold breeze swept into the tent as Hawk stomped in and tossed an armload of gear and weapons onto the floor.
“Our tent has been taken over by that pompous, little creep Xander and his precious bodyguard. Roland said we’re to sleep in here,” Hawk said, furious. “The pavilion fell over in the wind, so they wanted a magical tent. We’re in for a storm tonight.” He pulled off his boots and tossed them aside. “And you should see the meal they’re having. Peach pie and port are for dessert. The good stuff. Master Xander has made Tamal and Sirocco serve them wine. Poor Simoom is singing to Harmattan’s lute playing. Harmattan never should have told Master Xander he plays; they’ll be at it all night, entertaining those bird brains.”
“Xander is not fit to be served as a lord,” Taliesin said, angrily. “Sit. You can roll the dice. Wren is winning. Maybe you’ll break her lucky streak.” She looked over at Rook. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed. We’ll sleep on the floor. Wren can join you.”
The young girl opened her mouth in shock. “Taliesin!”
“Give me those dice!” Hawk plopped next to Jaelle and slapped at her foot when she tried to kick him. “Master Xander wants to see you, Raven Mistress. It didn’t sound like a request. Nor did Roland say a thing about it. He’s sitting there beside that little worm, laughing at every joke he makes and agreeing with everything he says. I was thrown out of the tent, though I only asked for a piece of pie. If the wind comes, I just bet those soldiers toss out the horses and take possession of the barn tent. If they do, I’m putting my foot down.”
“You’re such a little girl,” Jaelle said, laughing. “Can I braid your hair, Hawk?”
The dice game continued. Taliesin stood up, found her saddlebags, turned her back, and slid on her Raven attire. Stepping into her boots, she reached for her sword, only to find Jaelle at her side. Jaelle took the weapon from her. “Do not take this with you,” Jaelle said. “It could be confiscated.” She placed a dagger in Taliesin’s boot. “Use this instead. My brother and his friends are being treated like servants. I do not like it. Nor would my father approve. The dagger is very sharp...”
“Our commander,” Hawk said, “at least did one good thing; he told Xander that Tamal is his squire, and that Simoom, Harmattan, and the others come from Erindor. Xander believed him. What an idiot.”
“Erindor? This truly is the last straw!” Jaelle grabbed the dice and threw them across the tent. They reappeared in front of her. She threw them again. “Stop it, Zarnoc! I’m angry. I have to throw something.” The dice returned, in front of Wren this time. “Do we look like we are from Erindor? I do not paint the soles of my feet with henna, or pierce strange parts of my body to dangle jewelry.” She caught Rook smiling at her, amused by her outburst. “I mean you no respect, dear Rook, truly, I don’t. I’m sure your dukedom is a lovely place. When you are Ghajaran, however, being called anything else is an insult. I am proud of who I am, and I hate this Master Xander for making us have to hide our identity.”
“People believe what they want to believe, and sometimes it’s best that they do,” Zarnoc said, sounding wise and profound. “If Sir Roland exaggerated and told Master Xander you are from Erindor, then we may assume it is because the Eagle Clan is prejudiced against gypsies. I have personally met Duke Dhul Fakar and spent a short time at his court performing the usual card tricks and pulling ferrets out of the most unusual places on his harem girls. A very noble man, much like Shan Octavio; perhaps a bit vainer, yet he sets a fine banquet table. He likes cheese as much as I do.”
Taliesin grabbed her black cloak and fastened it at the neck with a silver brooch. “I believe his family owns a magical scimitar called Tizona,” she said. “It’s been passed down for generations, and can cut through anything without breaking, but as with all magical weapons, it has a few harmful side effects. Makes you crazy if you use it too often, so they say. Probably crazy enough to eat cheese with maggots.”
Wren sighed and took Rook’s hand. “I love hearing about where Rook comes from,” she said. “Zarnoc, is it a beautiful place? Like the Isle of Valen?”
“There are men on the island who eat fire, swallow swords, and charm snakes with their eyes. Most of Fakar’s entertainers come from the islands,” Zarnoc said, rising as Taliesin, taking her time, walked to the tent entrance. “Fakar also enjoys camel racing. I believe an ancestor of the duke once visited Garridan and took such a liking to camels that he brought an entire herd home with him.”
“Perhaps Roland is onto something,” Taliesin said, able to say one nice thing about him. “Eagle’s Nest is located in Erindor, so they would not be suspicious of anyone from that area.” She gazed at Zarnoc. “I was angry with you earlier. I expected you to know everything, and I wasn’t very happy to see Master Xander arrive with his men.”
“I know this much,” Zarnoc said, the room quieting as he spoke. “Master Xander is a very crafty man. Lying is second nature to him. Whatever you do, do not let him turn you against Roland. You don’t support Roland, but I do. I don’t think your knight will allow any harm come to you, Taliesin. Roland cares for you. Try to follow his lead, won’t you? He won’t lead you astray.”
“Why should I trust Roland?” Taliesin asked.
“My dear, Roland didn’t know it would be Master Xander coming after you. Nor did he know his Grand Master had sided with the Eagle Clan, so he really didn’t lie to you. ‘Vermillion,’ by the way, is the secret code used by the White Stags to verify the Grand Master has issued an order. And now you know the secret code, too.” He patted her on the bottom. “Off you go, dear!”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
The obnoxious noises made by the camels, combined with the stench of their ripe manure, overpowered Taliesin’s senses as she headed toward Master Xander’s tent, and she felt any semblance of a good mood fade.
Everywhere she looked were Eagle legionnaire, with their nomad garb removed, displaying armor and gold cloaks. She remembered how Prince Sertorius’ camp had been overrun by Wolfmen at the Volgate. The Eagle Clan’s camp was exposed on all sides—the desert offered no protection. She’d even left a trail for the enemy. As long as Zarnoc had neglected using his usual magical charms
to ward off evil, she had every reason to expect an attack before morning.
Two Eagle guards stood outside the large tent. Taliesin entered before they had time to announce her to their master. Once inside, she came to a halt, and her mouth dropped as she gawked at the sheer size of the interior and the lavishness of the furnishings; Zarnoc had gone all out to make the Eagle heir quite at home. Tamal, polishing Roland’s helmet, stood behind a low dining table where Sir Roland and Master Xander were seated on pillows. A chainmail coif made it hard to see his hair, but it looked like someone had cut it right above his ears; a comical look for any Ghajaran.
“The Raven Mistress is here,” Tamal said.
“I can see that for myself,” Xander replied. “Wine for our guest. I can’t remember your names—one of you fetch wine for the sha’tar. Sit, sit, my dear. No ceremony here. You are with friends.”
Khamsin walked over as Taliesin approached the table, and motioned at a pillow near Roland, at the end of the table, for her to sit upon. Khamsin was missing his long braid which had apparently been cut off since she’d seen him last. Sirocco, also shorn and with an angry look on his face, poured wine for Master Xander, filled a glass for Taliesin, and refilled Roland’s before returning to his corner. Harmattan sat on a pillow in the corner and played a lute, while Simoom sang in a soft voice. Something appeared wrong, for Simoon kept touching his throat, and several notes were too high to sing.
Taliesin noticed fresh bruises on Simoom’s neck and felt her temper rise. It was clear Master Xander wanted a hostile atmosphere, and a smug look hung on his sickly, pale face. His thinning blond hair, still wet from his bath, was plastered against his skull. He wore clean robes and his gold jewelry. She found him ugly, and couldn’t imagine anyone who looked so sickly being able to lead an army. But he was a magic user; she smelled the odor of brunt feathers on Xander, a sign she’d come to recognize meant that dark magic was at work.
“This is Taliesin, the Raven Mistress,” Roland stated. “And this is Master….”
She remained standing. “I know who this is. Xander Aladorius.”
“That’s right,” the Eagle heir said. “I never thought I would meet a sha’tar in my lifetime. Sir Roland, this is a momentous occasion. On this very eve, the tide of war has turned in our favor. Alas, she is not quite as beautiful as you said she was. Her hair is too red. She has lips like a cat, and far too many wrinkles. As long as she’s the genuine article, I suppose it matters not. My father is most anxious to meet her.”
Master Xander’s voice struck Taliesin as odd, for it was far too old for his body; it was the voice of an elderly man. He slid thin fingers through the strands of his hair. His pale eyebrows wrinkled together and he regarded her with disapproval.
“She’s the real thing,” Roland said, as he popped a date into his mouth.
Taliesin glared at the Eagle heir and placed her hands on her hips, her feet planted apart. “I was led to believe you were a prisoner of Chief Lykus,” she said. “Obviously, that was a lie.”
Xander’s eyes widened, but he revealed little else; he gave her an annoying, thin smile as he giggled like a child. Roland merely smiled, making her wonder if he was under some type of spell, for he acted differently around the Eagle heir.
“Is that what you were told? That I was a prisoner of the Wolf Pack? Chief Lykus wishes he had the ability to capture me. He tries, but I always manage to slip through his claws. Wolf’s Lair is no place for any human, I assure you. My father should have burned that pitiful place to the ground years ago. One day, he will.”
Not if I beat Arundel to it, she thought, and then I will destroy Eagle’s Nest. Both thoughts brought a smile to her face, but she refrained from sitting. Not until she had said what she wanted to say.
“Secretary Glabbrio wanted Sir Roland to go in search of you, but he decided to come with me instead,” Taliesin said. “I’m sure Lykus ate the secretary; Glabbrio was fat. In fact, the Wolf Clan made a meal out of the Raven Clan, and yet you say nothing about it. Just why have you come all this way, Master Xander, if not to apologize for your clan failing to intervene and stop the slaughter? Surely, you have not come all this way to join me on my quest? I assume you know why I’m here.”
“Of course. And you know why I am here.”
“I’m surprised you made it this far. It’s either dumb luck…or magic.”
“Have you not told the girl our meeting was prearranged, Sir Roland? A real sha’tar should have sensed we were near, one magic user to another. A true practitioner of magic would have hidden. For all your praise of this sha’tar, all I see is a Raven renegade seeking fame and glory. Many, far better than you, have tried and failed to locate Ringerike. You will fail, unless you have my help.”
“Not needed,” Taliesin said, but Xander wasn’t listening. He turned to Roland.
“I dare say it’s a shabby affair when your squire is one of Fakar’s bastards and your servants are Raven tomb raiders. You should have waited for me at Castle Stalker.”
Taliesin kept her face expressionless. Roland had indeed lied to Xander about his squire and the Nova brothers. Taliesin thought it well-played by the knight; he was trying to protect the Ghajar. And himself.
“Sertorius was on our tail,” Roland said. “I couldn’t risk running into him, nor could I suffer Lord Valesk’s company more than a minute. I have never liked Valesk. He and his father may yet side with Prince Almaric. Keep a sharp eye on Aldagar, my lord. They are far more dangerous than the Wolf Clan. But Taliesin is right; nothing was done to prevent the massacre.”
Xander snarled. “How dare you blame the Eagles for what happened to the Ravens. My father supports King Frederick and does what is necessary to keep that bitter old man on the throne. I need not explain why Chief Lykus spared our legionnaires, nor why he chose to kill everyone else, include the fat secretary! Wolves will be wolves!”
The look of contempt thrown in Taliesin’s direction set her on edge. Like father like son, she thought, hating Lord Arundel and Master Xander equally.
“Lykus would be a fool to kill Eagle legionnaires,” he continued. “Neither of you can understand or appreciate the long association between my father and the Wolf Chief. They have been friends a very long time. Now that Doomsayer is in Almaric’s possession, we must counter with a stronger sword. We need Ringerike to win the war!”
Roland helped himself to a leg of mutton. “Don’t get your feathers in a ruffle, you two. We are on the same side,” he said, in a gruff voice. “I know you are upset, Taliesin, that I didn’t forewarn you about Master Xander joining our quest, but he is here to help. We need his men to prevent Prince Sertorius and the Maldavians from stopping us. Sertorius is working for Almaric. Tell her, my lord?”
“It’s true. Sertorius only goes to Garridan to raise an army against King Frederick. If he gets his hands on you, he’ll either entice you to find Ringerike with promises of gold, marriage, and a crown, or he’ll torture your friends until you give him what he wants. That man has no scruples. Are you satisfied, Roland? I have just warned your mistress this prince has far more teeth than Lykus or my father.”
The little worm Xander grinned at Taliesin, his teeth small and even, but with gaps that reminded her of tiny, white cobblestones. His inability to pick one emotion and stick with it annoyed her more than the offensive words that came out of his mouth. The idea anyone actually liked Xander for himself was impossible to fathom; a more despicable character she’d never met in her life. She watched Roland chew on the mutton.
“Grudge would never have accepted the help of anyone, especially an Eagle,” she said. “You know how I feel about the Eagles, how they twist everything around to get their way, and how they use people to get what they want. Arundel and Lykus work together. All this could have been avoided if you’d but told Osprey that Xander was not a prisoner, but intended to ambush me. Why the deception? If you’d told the truth, Roland, my clan would have stayed at Raven’s Nest and the Black Wings would hav
e beaten off the Wolf Clan, as always, and wouldn’t have died. Their deaths are as much your fault as the Eagle Clan’s. Perhaps even more so, because you could have prevented it. And don’t deny it. You told me you want to give Ringerike to the king.”
“I had my orders.”
Taliesin turned bright pink. “Did your Grand Master tell you to sacrifice Duke Hrothgar and Jasper? All you had to do was tell the duke that Sertorius and Peergynt waited in ambush. You could have told Hrothgar about the Deceiver’s Map. It should be Hrothgar and Jasper, not Xander, who joined us on the quest, you stupid magpie!” She looked for something to throw, but Roland caught her by the arm and yanked her to the pillows.
“Don’t accuse me of being dishonorable. Fregians died that day. I would have prevented the battle if I could,” Roland growled. “Strategy is clearly not your specialty. Hrothgar died so the rest of the High Council would see Sertorius for what he is, and join their king. The duke died a martyr of patriotism and its great cost to achieve.”
Applause came from the far end of the table. “Oh, this is rich,” sang out Xander. “Who would have imagined we’d be having a lover’s spat? What a wild stag you are, Sir Roland, rutting with the sha’tar. Seducing a normal woman to get her under your control is one thing, but tampering with this hellcat is another. If she won’t agree to help us, then she should be chained and dragged to the cave. Convince her to come along willingly, or that’s precisely what I’ll do. I don’t have time for this, though it is quite amusing.”
“A moment, please, sir!”
Roland released her arm. She scooted away.
“I swear I did not know the details of my Grand Master’s and Lord Arundel’s plan; I only knew that I was to meet my Order here. Now that Xander and his men have arrived, since we are being pursued by the Wolf Pack and the Maldavians, we need his protection. He’s right. We can’t reach the cave without him.”
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