“You’ll be held hostage, of course,” Damin told Lord Regis, once the men were dispatched. “Pending negotiations for your ransom, your release and your return to Fardohnya.”
“I have no care about what happens to me.” Regis shrugged. “My life was done for the moment Her Serene Highness set eyes on me. What will happen to my men?”
“They’ll be moved back to Winternest,” Damin informed him. “We have a mountain pass to clear. A few thousand prisoners of war should do the trick in no time, given it’s their only way home. Who is Her Serene Highness?”
“Her Serene Highness, Princess Adrina of Fardohnya,” Regis explained. “Hablet’s eldest daughter. A demon disguised as a goddess.”
Damin looked at him oddly, wondering if the humiliation of defeat hadn’t sent the Fardohnyan general just a little bit crazy. “I see …”
Regis smiled thinly. “No, your highness, I doubt you do. But it’s thanks to her I’m here and thanks to her there’s not likely to be an offer of ransom made on my behalf.”
“Does she have something against you?”
“She showed an interest in me, your highness. Only a fleeting one, mind you. I’m sure she did nothing more than flirt with me to relieve the tedium of the Winter Palace. But in the eyes of Hablet of Fardohnya, looking at one of his daughters uninvited means you’ve probably got your eye on his throne and that’s akin to treason. He doesn’t trust his daughter and the moment she looked at me, he started to doubt me, too. Hence we find ourselves in this place, you with a victory and I faced with death no matter which way I turn.”
Damin shook his head, thinking Hablet’s court made the troubles in Hythrun politics seem quite dull. “Is there no chance you’re mistaken?”
“I’m not even sure it wasn’t Hablet who blocked the pass, with the deliberate intention of stranding me here in Hythria.” He turned to the young messenger he’d been talking to when Damin and his men burst in. “Tell them, Ollie. Tell them the message you brought me from our king.”
The young messenger glanced at the Hythrun invaders nervously. “He said … um … he said to tell Lord Regis that his daughter, Her Serene Highness, the Princess Adrina of Fardohnya, doesn’t think he’s worth saving. He told me to tell Lord Regis that at her suggestion, King Hablet was going to abandon the general and his men to their fates.”
“Tell him, at my daughter’s behest,” Regis quoted bitterly, “we are leaving him to do what he can against the Hythrun for the greater glory of his king and his family name, but there will be no further support from Fardohnya.”
“And all this because she flirted with you?” Damin asked, shaking his head, partly in sympathy, partly in disbelief. “What a nasty bitch. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise. The fault is not yours.”
A moment later the sound of trumpets echoed across the foothills—Fardohnyan horns, sounding the surrender. The noise was followed, a few moments later, by the distant call of Hythrun horns, declaring victory.
Regis listened to the echoing trumpets with a morose expression and then turned to Damin. “It seems the day is yours, Prince Damin. Congratulations.”
Damin glanced down at the curved Fardohnyan sword he was holding. It was heavy and unfamiliar and it represented more than even this Fardohnyan could know.
“Will you ride with me, Lord Regis? To meet the High Prince?”
“Will I be as surprised by him as I have been by you?”
Damin smiled. “Actually, the gossip probably doesn’t do him justice. You’ll find him to be everything you’ve heard and then some.”
“And yet you follow him loyally?” Regis asked curiously. “Even knowing what he is?”
“I notice knowing what Hablet and his daughter are didn’t stop you coming through the Widowmaker,” Damin pointed out. “At least Lernen Wolfblade is family.”
Regis shrugged. “We men do foolish things for pride and glory.”
“Is that why you invaded Hythria? For pride and glory?”
“And to kill you, your uncle and your half-brother,” Regis added. “I had quite specific instructions about that.”
“Why does Hablet want me dead?” Damin asked. “I’ve never even met the man.”
“He wants all the Wolfblades dead, your highness. I thought you knew that?”
Damin sighed, wondering if there was actually a single soul outside of his immediate family and close allies who didn’t want him dead. “Well, he lucked out this time. Shall we go?”
Axelle Regis picked up his oiled cape, swinging it over his shoulders against the rain as he walked away from his command post and into his new role as a prisoner of war, the bitter miasma of defeat hanging over him as if he wore a second cloak woven from despair.
CHAPTER 69
Kalan Hawksword led the delegation to visit Princess Marla and inform her of the unfortunate events that had recently taken place at the Sorcerers’ Collective. Accompanying her was the acting High Arrion of the Sorcerers’ Collective, Bruno Sanval, the assassin, Ga-Ion Miar, and the head of the Krakandar Thieves’ Guild, Wrayan Lightfinger.
Marla welcomed them into the High Prince’s audience chamber, standing just below the podium where her brother normally sat on those rare occasions he was required to actually perform his duties as High Prince.
Bruno greeted Marla with a surprisingly courtly bow when they stopped before her. “Your highness. Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”
Marla smiled warmly at the old man. “How could I refuse such an … eclectic assembly, my lord?” she replied, casting her gaze over the odd allies. “A sorcerer, an assassin, a thief … and my daughter. The reason for your visit intrigues me, Lord Sanval, almost as much as the company you keep.”
“You know Master Lightfinger and Master Miar?”
“I’m acquainted with both of them,” she agreed. “Although I admit I never expected to see either man in the company of the Lower Arrion of the Sorcerers’ Collective. What can I do for you?”
The old man cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There has been an accident, your highness. At the Sorcerers’ Collective. Involving the High Arrion.”
“Alija?” Marla asked, feigning surprise. “I hope nothing ill has befallen my dearest cousin. Greenharbour just wouldn’t be the same without her.”
“It’s more the ill that has befallen the Sorcerers’ Collective,” Kalan informed her mother, neither of them betraying the fact that this meeting was not only expected, but almost rehearsed. “Illness that was delivered by the hand of the former High Arrion.”
Marla raised a brow and looked at Bruno. “The former High Arrion?”
“Lady Eaglespike is dead, your highness,” Bruno told her.
“Dead?” Marla was genuinely shocked to hear it. Kalan knew her mother had been expecting news of her arrest, not her demise. “How can she be dead?”
“She attempted to draw on the magic of the Harshini directly, your highness. We all witnessed it happen. It was a tragic thing to behold.”
Marla’s gaze landed on Wrayan. He shrugged. “She’s done it before,” he explained, “only the last time she tried it, she was using a Harshini spell to protect herself from the danger of too much exposure. This time she didn’t. Perhaps she was overconfident. Or she forgot the spell.”
Bruno nodded sadly in agreement, which Kalan thought was a bit optimistic. Bruno Sanval had no more magical ability than she did, so for all he knew, Wrayan had killed Alija himself. In fact, Kalan wasn’t entirely certain that wasn’t exactly what had happened. She didn’t intend to challenge him on it, though. The outcome of their meeting with Alija was everything Kalan could have hoped for and more. She wasn’t about to start questioning their good fortune now.
“I have assumed her duties temporarily,” Bruno informed the princess, “until we can arrange a new High Arrion.”
Marla looked stunned. “But what would make the High Arrion attempt anything so foolish?”
“She wa
s attempting to evade justice,” Bruno replied gravely.
“Lord Sanval, I trust you have proof of this allegation,” the princess warned sternly. “To accuse a High Arrion of any crime is a most serious affair. What was she accused of?”
“Murder,” Bruno informed her heavily.
“Dear gods!” Marla exclaimed. “Who did she kill?” Kalan was quite impressed by her mother’s performance. She’d never realised what a good actress Marla was until now.
“It’s more a case of how many did she kill, actually,” Wrayan corrected.
“Talk about a gifted amateur,” Galon added. “There’s retired old assassins out there responsible for fewer deaths than Alija Eaglespike.”
“And you have proof of these murders?”
“She confessed, Mother,” Kalan said, her eyes meeting Marla’s so only her mother could read the triumph in them. “She killed Ronan Dell and all his household; Kagan Palenovar; she tried to kill Master Lightfinger back when he was an apprentice; and then, to top it all off, she tried to commission Master Miar to kill him again today, in front of both the Lower Arrion and the Chief Librarian, Dikorian Frye.”
“She confessed to all of this?” Marla asked, her shock quite genuine.
Kalan shared her surprise.
They were hoping to expose Alija’s previous attack on Wrayan. They’d considered it an outside chance she would demand Galon kill Wrayan as soon as she recognised him, and with luck condemn herself a second time in front of two impeccable witnesses. But nobody had expected her to incriminate herself with the revelation she had ordered the attack on Ronan Dell.
They hadn’t even suspected she’d had a hand in Kagan Palenovar’s death.
“Regrettably, your highness, she did confess,” Bruno replied.
“But how?” Marla demanded. “Did you just walk up to the High Arrion and enquire if she’d killed anybody recently?”
Bruno fidgeted uncomfortably with the cord around the waist of his formal black robes. “My first hint anything was amiss was when Kalan … Lady Hawksword … brought to my attention the fact Wrayan Lightfinger was visiting Greenharbour. When she told me he’d been living in Krakandar all these years … that he’d sworn an oath to the God of Thieves … well, I was quite beside myself, particularly when I learned he’d visited Sanctuary in his travels. We’d all assumed him dead, you see. Lady Kalan arranged a meeting and during our discussion he told me of the circumstances of his departure from the Sorcerers’ Collective and his arrival among the Harshini …” The old man shook his head sorrowfully. “After that, things just began to snowball. Wrayan mentioned that Master Miar may have reason also to suspect Lady Alija of criminal activities, and that he had been courting her favour with the hope of proving her culpability. With Master Miar’s help, we were able to secure the testimony of a slave trader who knew of the Ronan Dell massacre. Your own court’esa was apparently a victim of her machinations too, I regret to inform you. I admit though, until she confessed, I had hoped there was some plausible explanation for the evidence that was building against her.”
“I share your shock and disappointment, Lord Sanval. It must be a bitter brew indeed you find yourself having to swallow. Is there anything I can do?”
“We are here as a courtesy, your highness,” Bruno explained. “With the number of provinces under the governance of the Sorcerers’ Collective, I thought it prudent the High Prince be advised of this situation, as soon as possible.”
Marla nodded sympathetically. “Of course, my lord, I will send a dispatch to my brother at once, apprising him of the news. Do you have any recommendations about what I should advise him to do with the troops?”
“I’m not sure I follow your meaning, your highness. Surely that is a military decision?”
“Please, forgive me if I am presuming to quote Collective law to someone as eminent as yourself, Lord Sanval, but it was my understanding that if a Higher or Lower Arrion was removed for a criminal act, all decisions and rulings issued by that person following the act of committing that crime become void until they can be reviewed and judged on their merits.” Marla shrugged, letting that sink in. “I realise I’m just a woman with no real comprehension of your laws, but the way I understand it, if Alija’s first crime was the murder of Ronan Dell, doesn’t that pre-date her appointment as High Arrion? I could be oversimplifying the matter, but I believe that makes every ruling, every decision and every appointment she’s made since she was appointed null and void.”
Kalan stared at her mother, open-mouthed. Even she hadn’t known about that law. How did Marla know these things, she marvelled. It was humbling to think that no matter how clever Kalan thought she was, her mother always seemed to be one step ahead of everybody else.
“Dear gods!” Bruno breathed in horror. “Your highness, I fear you may be correct. I hadn’t thought about it.” He was having great difficulty grasping the scope of the problem. “This is a calamity! A disaster!”
Galon looked at the others in bewilderment. “You mean everything Alija’s done since she’s been High Arrion is now invalid?”
“It may well be,” Wrayan agreed. “The law was put in place by the Harshini when the Sorcerers’ Collective was first created. It was meant to stop anybody profiting from a criminal act. You know, killing someone and then appointing your nephew to the post—that sort of thing. I remember Kagan telling me about it once. Or making me go look it up.”
Wrayan’s explanation solved the mystery of how Marla knew about the law, which relieved Kalan a great deal. It was hard enough being surrounded by real sorcerers. Having a mother with almost mystical powers would have been a little too much to bear.
“What does it mean in reality, though?” Kalan asked. “Are we going to have to go back and undo every decision she’s made in the past twenty-odd years?”
“The decisions don’t need to be unmade,” Wrayan explained. “Just reviewed. But they can’t be considered valid until they’ve been independently assessed as not benefiting anyone as the result of her crimes.”
“That could take months. Even years.”
“And we’re at war, gentlemen,” Marla reminded them grimly, “with no time for such a drawn-out process. May I make a suggestion, Lord Sanval?”
“Please, your highness, if you can see some way out of this dilemma, I would be most grateful for your wisdom.”
“I’m not sure if I have the solution to your entire problem, my lord, but in the short term we do have a more immediate issue with the chain of command on the war front. Alija appointed her own son as commander of all the armies belonging to the provinces under the Sorcerers’ Collective guardianship. In light of recent events, perhaps that command should be temporarily transferred to the High Prince? At least until the Fardohnyans have been dealt with.”
“That would be a solution, your highness, but is the High Prince really up to … you know …” The old man’s words trailed off uncomfortably.
“I believe the High Prince is surrounded by enough sensible men that such a transfer of command would not unduly burden him, my lord,” she assured him.
“Then I shall draft the orders immediately, my lady, if you would be so kind as to arrange a messenger to carry them to the front.”
“They’ll be in Sunrise Province in a matter of days,” Marla promised. “My second suggestion is that you form some sort of board of inquiry, not so much to question the High Arrion’s decisions but to decide if, indeed, she was guilty of anything at all. If Alija died before she was formally charged with a crime, perhaps there might be a way to avoid the unpleasantness that comes with.impeachment?”
“That is a wise suggestion, your highness. I thank you for your understanding. It grieves me deeply to assume the rank of High Arrion under such circumstances.”
“I trust you and Lord Dikorian will handle the problem with wisdom and dignity,” Marla replied.
“Dikorian?”
“He’s now the Acting Lower Arrion, isn’t he?” Marla enquir
ed.
“Ah, well … no, your highness, he’s not.”
“Then who are you thinking of appointing, my lord?”
“Um … your daughter,” the old man told her. “Lady Kalan Hawksword.”
Marla’s gaze fixed on Kalan. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. “You’re the new Lower Arrion of the Sorcerers’ Collective?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“This is … unexpected.”
Kalan was delighted to think she’d done something that had taken Marla so completely by surprise.
“I am my mother’s daughter,” she said.
CHAPTER 70
Tejay Lionsclaw spent a good two days pacing her tent, listening to the rain beating an incessant tattoo on her roof with no idea what was going on in the war camp, no idea what was in store for her, or even if they’d won the battle. She had only Kendra Warhaft for company and the young woman was kept as isolated as Tejay and had no more notion of what was happening outside the walls of their tent than she did. The slaves who tended them were not her own and the guards on her quarters were Dregian Raiders who didn’t respond even when she asked them direct questions.
She was effectively alone in the world, cut off from everyone she trusted or thought she could rely on and starting to wonder if her misguided heroics were going to cost her much more than she’d bargained for.
It was all Lernen Wolfblade’s fault, Tejay reasoned, as she paced the small empty space in the living quarters of the divided tent. If the High Prince had even an ounce of backbone, she might have got away with posing as a Warlord. He may have even thanked her for it. She was the one who’d sat in front of those damned soldiers, after all, facing the entire oncoming Fardohnyan army, just to make certain the archers got their arrows away at the right time. Had she received any thanks for her courage? Not a jot. Instead, they confined her and cut her off and were probably plotting to take her province and her children from her in her absence.
It was Damin’s fault, too, she fumed. If that damned irresponsible boy had been where he was supposed to be when she and Lernen arrived at the command post at Lasting Drift, she might have had someone on her side. Instead, all they found was Cyrus Eaglespike, shocked to the very core of his being to realise the occupant of Terin Lionsclaw’s armour was, in fact, not the Warlord but the Warlord’s wife.
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