Warlord

by Jennifer Fallon

  She looked at him curiously. “How is it you know so much about what the Fardohnyans are saying about us?”

  “Thieves and assassins know no borders, remember?”

  She studied him with some concern. “You seem to have excellent sources of intelligence, Galon.”

  “I doubt they’re as good as yours,” he remarked. “Between the intelligence network the Tirstone boys control and your contacts in the Thieves’ Guild …”

  “Do you mean Wrayan?”

  “Interesting man, the Greatest Thief in all of Hythria.”

  “You’ve been talking to him?”

  Galon nodded. “We’re likely to be doing a lot of business in the future. It pays to get these things smoothed out early.”

  “Why would you have business with Wrayan?”

  He raised a brow at her. “Haven’t you heard? Maybe your sources aren’t as good as I thought.”

  “Heard what?”

  “Franz Gillam has offered Wrayan the Wraith—Greatest Thief in all of Hythria—the position of heir apparent to the Greenharbour Thieves’ Guild.”

  “And he accepted?” she asked, stunned to think she knew nothing about this.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t he?”

  “He’s head of the Krakandar Thieves’ Guild for one.”

  “Well, depending on who you talk to, he’s thinking of leaving because some young upstart in Krakandar turfed him out of a job, or he’s leaving because he’s discovered he’s not aging the way he should and if he gets out of Krakandar now and comes back to Greenharbour, people may not notice.”

  Marla looked at the assassin curiously. Few people knew of Wrayan’s Harshini heritage. That sort of observation could only have come from Wrayan himself. “You two really have become fast friends, haven’t you?”

  “We heir apparents have to stick together, you know.”

  She frowned and glanced around the room. “Speaking of Wrayan, have you seen him this afternoon? He was supposed to be here.”

  “He was out in the garden last I saw of him, but I’m not sure how long he was planning to stay. He said something about catching up with an old friend. Have you noticed Kalan was late, too?”

  “No, I hadn’t. But you obviously did.”

  “She scares me,” he admitted with a grin. “I like to keep tabs on her when she’s in the room.”

  Marla shook her head, wondering what she was getting herself into with this man. “I expect you to make an effort to get along with my family, Galon.”

  “And I expect you to make your children promise that if you become a widow again in the near future, it’ll be because I died of natural causes.”

  Marla couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “I wish you’d met Elezaar. He would have liked you, I think.”

  “Your court’esa? The one you say you killed?”

  “He killed himself, actually. After Alija forced him into betraying me.”

  Marla tried not to dwell on Alija too much. Her downfall had opened a lot of old wounds. For Wrayan Lightfinger, it was a bittersweet victory. He hadn’t known Alija was responsible for his former master’s death. Although Kagan Palenovar had been gone for more than twenty years, Alija’s surprise confession had staggered him. It had also driven home to Marla how ruthless Alija had been. How utterly without sentiment when it came to achieving her goals.

  Ruthlessness wasn’t a quality Marla was unfamiliar with. She often demonstrated the same single-minded, merciless determination when she had to. But Alija’s crimes went beyond simple greed or power-grabbing. Marla knew why she did what she did. It was to protect her family, no other reason, and she didn’t try to fool herself into believing her motives were any nobler than that. Alija, on the other hand, actually thought she was doing good. That’s what had made her truly dangerous.

  Still, things were finally reaching a point where she could relax. Damin was Warlord of Krakandar and, when the time came, would be a High Prince Hythria could be proud of. Narvell was doing well in Elasapine, the centre of Charel Hawksword’s universe, vindicating the decision she made all those years ago, in this very room, when she decided the best thing for everyone would be for Nash to die in a tragic accident so nobody ever learned the truth about his treachery.

  As for her only daughter, Kalan was Lower Arrion already and had proved perhaps the most astute and intelligent one of all.

  Marla was just as pleased with her stepchildren. Luciena and Xanda seemed happily married and ran the vast Mariner shipping empire together as if the gods had granted them a licence to make money. Rielle and Darvad were obviously doing well in Dylan Pass. Rodja and Selena ruled the spice trade and now it looked as if they would be adding exotic Denikan imports to their empire. Adham still showed no inclination to settle down, but perhaps in Denika he would find what he was searching for.

  That reminded Marla of something else. Now this awful business with Leila was behind them, she needed to start looking for a suitable wife for Damin. He was twenty-five and needed to think about producing an heir.

  The Wolfblade line must go on, Marla was determined. She hadn’t come this far to let it die out now.

  “Your highness.”

  Marla turned to find Wrayan standing behind her. She smiled at him and took his hands in hers. “I was hoping to catch up with you. I’ve seen so little of you lately.”

  “Actually, I came to ask your forgiveness. I have to leave early. There’s somebody I have to meet and I couldn’t arrange any other time.”

  “Some secret Thieves’ Guild business I suppose?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Did I ever thank you, Wrayan, for changing careers for me?”

  He looked puzzled for a moment and then nodded. “Ah … you mean Alija?”

  “You didn’t have to kill her, you know. We had enough to hang her.”

  He looked at her curiously before glancing around to see who was near. “Do you think Alija was the first person I’ve killed?”

  Marla looked at him curiously. She’d never really thought about it. “I don’t know.”

  “Trust me, she’s not. She won’t be the last either, if I stay in Greenharbour.”

  Marla slipped her arm through his and walked with him toward the doors at the other end of the hall. “Galon told me about Franz Gillam’s offer. I was a little offended to think you told him before you mentioned it to me.”

  “Galon’s a professional colleague.”

  She looked up at him with a frown. “Is that what you’re calling your relationship now?”

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to marry him,” he accused. “So don’t go on about my relationship with Galon Miar, when you’re guilty of the same sin.”

  Marla sighed. “I haven’t even told my children. Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

  Wrayan shrugged. “He’s a loyal Royalist, if that’s what you’re asking. And it does get you off the hook rather neatly with the Assassins’ Guild.”

  They reached the doors and stepped through into the relative quiet of the corridor outside. Marla was still wracked with uncertainty. She stopped and made Wrayan turn to face her. “You’ve read his mind. Does he love me?”

  The thief smiled. “Four husbands behind you and now you start to wonder whether the man you’re about to marry loves you or not?”

  “I’m getting sentimental in my old age. Answer my question. Does he love me?”

  “Do you have any reason to think he might?”

  “That’s not an answer, Wrayan.”

  “But it’s all the answer I’m going to give you, your highness. I promised I wouldn’t pry, remember.”

  “You promised you’d not betray any Assassins’ Guild secrets you learned in his mind. You didn’t promise anything about how he felt for me.”

  “But I have learned to know when to leave well enough alone,” the thief replied. “I can tell you this much, though, if it will ease your mind. He has no agenda involving your children. Galon Miar knows what
he wants and it isn’t anything to do with Hythria’s throne.”

  “What does he want?”

  “You … among other things.”

  “Then he does love me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Marla crossed her arms against a chill she feared came from her own guilty conscience. “You know, I used to be appalled by how ruthless Alija was. How utterly without sentiment she could be when it came to achieving her goals. But it’s recently occurred to me that I’m no better than she is. I can be just as ruthless; I had to be, just to deal with her.”

  “Didn’t Elezaar and his wretched Rules of Gaining and Wielding Power have something to say about that?”

  She wished the dwarf was here now. “Rule Number One. Have a reason other than the love of power to reach for it.”

  “And do you?”

  She thought about her answer carefully. “I only ever wanted to protect my children, Wrayan. Power for its own sake leaves me cold. I didn’t do anything harsh, or ruthless, or even very profound, until I realised the only person in the world who could protect my children to my satisfaction was men.”

  “That’s a noble goal common to mothers the world over, your highness,” he assured her, “not a ruthless one.”

  She shook her head, unconvinced. “How many mothers the world over have killed to achieve it, though?”

  “How many have had to?”

  Marla smiled sadly. “Who’d have thought my two best and most trusted friends in the world would turn out to be a part-Harshini thief-turned-assassin and a dwarf slave? Or that my friendship would cost one of my friends his life and cause the other to commit murder.”

  “Elezaar would tell you that we’d done the right thing.”

  “He hated Alija. His opinion wouldn’t have been objective.”

  “Well, you have your vengeance for him, your highness. I think he’d appreciate that.”

  “What were her final thoughts?”

  “It’s over and done with, your highness. Let her rest. She can’t hurt you or your family now.”

  “Tell me. Please.”

  Wrayan looked at her oddly. “Did you want the gory details?”

  “I don’t need to be protected from them, Wrayan. What were her last thoughts?”

  Wrayan hesitated before he answered her. “She was cursing me. And you.”

  “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? I have broad shoulders, you know. I can bear the responsibility.”

  He rubbed his temples, as if easing a headache, and then looked at her. “The responsibility is mostly mine, your highness. I could have done something about Alija years ago. What’s more, I should have. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have the opportunity. Gods! Even Brakandaran would have helped me if I’d asked him. Come to think of it, he even offered once.”

  “Why didn’t you accept his offer?”

  “Because I was doing exactly what you’re doing now. Trying to convince myself I was better than that. That my motives were somehow nobler than Alija’s. That I was the better person. But I wasn’t. None of us are. We’re all just human and we’re flawed and we do what we have to, to keep the ones we love safe.”

  “Even if it means killing in cold blood?”

  “Even that,” Wrayan agreed.

  Marla wasn’t sure if she was comforted by Wrayan’s words or disturbed by them. “Galon told me just now that I should be proud of my children, of the way they’ve turned out. Do you think they’d be proud of their mother if they knew even half the things I’d done?”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but if you want my advice … don’t tell them.”

  “Because they’d despise me?”

  “Because they might not despise you,” he warned. “They might admire you, and then you’d really have a reason to lie awake at night worrying about the future.” Wrayan let go of her hand and bowed politely. “I should go, your highness. The man I’m going to meet will wait on no one and I don’t want to miss him.”

  “Go then. I’ll see you later.”

  She watched him leave and then took a deep breath and headed back into the crowded hall. Looking around, Marla smiled. Here was everything she’d fought so hard to preserve, so hard to protect.

  And she’d succeeded. Her family was safe. Fardohnya was defeated. The plague was done with. Hythria was secure. Alija was dead.

  If only, she lamented silently, Elezaar had been here to see it.

  Oddly, she was experiencing a few doubts but absolutely no remorse. She did have a vague sense of ineffable sadness, though, as she realised that an entire era had come to an end.

  Revenge should feel better than this. More satisfying.

  Victory, Marla decided, had a bitter aftertaste if you savoured it for too long.

  But the threat of the Eaglespikes—and with them, the entire Patriot faction—was gone, now. For the first time in two decades, her first thought on waking wasn’t wondering if Alija Eaglespike was planning to destroy her family today. Marla smiled thinly, thinking it a sad comment on her life to discover the threat Alija represented might have been what drove her to greatness.

  Elezaar would have been the first to point out that particular irony.

  In a strange way Marla was free; in another way, bereft. Elezaar was avenged, her children were safe, her son was a Warlord, the Assassins’ Guild was on her side and there was no Alija Eaglespike to rally the voices of discontent.

  Elezaar had a rule for that, too. Accept that which is unchangeable; change that which is unacceptable.

  Marla had lived by that rule all her life.

  And tomorrow, she would wake in a world that she had finally made acceptable.

  EPILOGUE

  The wharf district of Greenharbour City was massive. This was, arguably, the largest and busiest port in the world. It was loud and raw and a forest of masts stretched around the harbour. It stank like rancid fish, wet hemp, sweat and salt, yet it seemed to offer a safe port of call for every lost soul in the world.

  It was not surprising, then, that this was where Wrayan had found Brakandaran the Halfbreed.

  He hadn’t been looking for Brak, just as he was quite certain Brak wasn’t expecting to be found. Wrayan had come down to the wharves to check on the ship Luciena had arranged to transport Prince Lunar Shadow Kraig back to Denika. It wasn’t one of her regular ships. Most of Luciena’s fleet were coastal traders that rarely sailed out of sight of land, plying the trade routes between Hythria, Fardohnya and Karien. The voyage across the vast Dregian Ocean to Denika required a much larger vessel.

  Luciena had contracted Captain Soothan to carry the prince home, but Marla was still concerned. She had invited Kraig here to discuss a treaty, been forced to protect him from raging mobs, quarantine him from the plague, hide him by having him pose as a sex slave, involve him in a war and then have him witness foul murder in Krakandar as the family settled its differences. Marla was convinced she had stretched the friendship with Denika to breaking point. She was justifiably nervous about sending their crown prince home, only to have the ship sink halfway to Denika because it was unseaworthy.

  For no other reason than to ease the princess’s mind, Wrayan had offered to check out the ship himself and make a few inquiries about Captain Soothan’s credentials among his contacts in the Thieves’ Guild.

  The last thing he’d expected was to find Brak a member of Soothan’s crew.

  Once he’d found him, however, there was no chance he was going to let him get away without some sort of explanation. Wrayan had spent the last thirteen years fearing Brak was dead and he didn’t intend to spend the next thirteen years wondering why he wasn’t. Brak was reluctant to even acknowledge that he knew Wrayan, however, but had finally agreed to meet with him the following day in a tavern close to where the ship was anchored, if only he’d leave and stop making a fuss.

  The time Brak wanted to meet was right in the middle of Princess Marla’s reception, but it couldn’t be helped. Even t
hough he half expected him not to show up, Wrayan was waiting at the appointed time, figuring after all he had done for her, Marla would forgive his rudeness.

  Somewhat to his surprise, the Halfbreed appeared a few moments after he said he’d be at the tavern, looking tanned and fit and every inch a born sailor.

  “How did you find me?” Brak asked as he slid into the seat opposite Wrayan in a booth near the back of the taproom.

  “Hello, Brak, nice to see you too. I’m well, thanks, how are you?”

  “I haven’t got time for small talk, Wrayan, we sail on tomorrow’s tide. How did you find me?”

  He shrugged, disappointed Brak was feeling so unsociable. “Just lucky, I guess. I wasn’t actually looking for you. Princess Marla asked me to check on an ocean-going vessel she hired to return someone to Denika, and there you were.”

  “I chose that ship because it was an ocean-going vessel on its way to Denika,” Brak said, waving to the tavern wench to bring him ale. “She stays at sea for long periods of time. It keeps the gods away. They don’t like to mess with Kaelarn.”

  Wrayan studied him curiously. “Are you dodging any god in particular?”

  “Mostly Zegarnald and Dace, at the moment. They’re both peeved at me for one reason or another.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I quit my life of crime in the Sunrise Mountains, which didn’t please the God of Thieves very much. And I meddled in Zegarnald’s precious war, too. It came to a resounding halt a whole lot sooner than he was planning. He’s pretty ticked off with me about that.”

  “How could you meddle in the war? You weren’t anywhere near it, were you?”

  “I was for a while. Zeggie had this great plan, you see, to flood Hythria with Fardohnyans and then put someone really smart in charge of the Hythrun defence so it would drag on for years. I took the liberty of changing the odds. Once the numbers evened up a bit, lo and behold, a victory! I didn’t even really care which side won, just so long as somebody did. It’s a popular misconception, you know, this notion that one should win a war to honour Zegarnald. He’d much prefer you keep on fighting.”