The Red Knight

by Davies, K. T.

  The room humbled him, which was rare. Humans failed, but this room with its doors that burst into bloom every spring, and the Rainbow Window that flowed like water would endure long after he was dust. It was small comfort, but growing old had taught him to be grateful for the little things.

  The Governor of Tamalan was sitting beside the King, huddled in furs. Lady Tula was the very image of a kindly grandmother, except for the sword poking out from under her cloak. The seat on the other side of Daris, where the Governor of Cathlan should have been sitting, was empty.

  Jerim’s messenger had arrived bearing an apology from his Lord, but not the taxes that were due from Cathlan. They’d anticipated such a move and had planned for it, but as the time approached Hyram found his mouth was dry and his hands clammy. He never used to feel like this before indulging in a little play-acting. When had anticipation and excitement turned into weariness and dread?

  “When you got old…” he muttered under his breath.

  The King beckoned the nervous messenger over. “Tell my brother that because he is ill, I shall give him one month’s grace to gather the taxes and deliver them here, in person. However; and this is most important, so listen well, sirrah. Tell him that my patience is not infinite. If he cannot cope with the responsibility of being our Governor of Cathlan, I will appoint someone who can.”

  Hyram saw several of the Cathlan nobles exchange knowing looks and smug, pursed-lipped smiles. The chamber fell silent; the messenger shuffled uncomfortably. Hyram marshalled his strength and hauled himself to his feet. On with the motley.

  “Your Majesty, I must protest!” he barked.

  A shocked murmur followed the echo of his words around the chamber.

  Daris gave him a dead-eyed stare. “What about, Lord Costaine?”

  “He’s gone too far, Majesty! How many more times will you allow the Governor of Cathlan to flout your authority, and the authority of this Council? He makes fools of us all—”

  The King leapt to his feet, fists clenched. “How dare you question me? If I choose to give my brother the benefit of my patience, it is none of your concern!”

  Hyram felt the blood pumping through the veins in his neck as the eyes of everyone in the room bored into him. “Your Majesty, I must—”

  “One more word, Costaine, and I swear I will banish you to the Northern Wastes. I have said all I wish to say on the matter; let that be an end to it.” Daris turned to the messenger. “Take my words back to Prince Jerim with all haste.”

  The pale-faced messenger bowed and backed from the chamber.

  “Does anyone else have anything they wish to say about the Governor of Cathlan?” Daris demanded. No one spoke. “Council adjourned.” The King strode from the chamber, before anyone had time to rise and bow, leaving Hyram to endure the censure of his peers.

  Hyram was unrepentant and argued his point vociferously, even though he felt that his labouring heart was about to burst at any moment. All the while, he was taking note of which way the blades were falling as was his apprentice who was standing mutely in the background, watching his master’s performance. Later, when they got the chance to compare notes, they would compile a list of who merited further investigation, who could probably be trusted, and who was going to have an unfortunate accident.

  His apprentice was the last to leave the chamber. Hyram didn’t think he had the strength to get up and go even if he wanted to. As the last Council member swept past him, Garian turned to Hyram, and frowned. He shook his head and waited for the doors to close. Alone at last, he closed his eyes and waited for the iron bands constricting his chest to loosen.

  Later that evening, Hyram again found himself in a tight spot, this time trying to squeeze down a narrow passage that he hadn’t used in years. After almost choking to death on a mixture of dust and cobwebs, he considered the route was better suited to someone half, or perhaps even a third, his size.

  Daris, Lady Tula, Commander Trease, and General Tyrus were already in the King’s study when he got there.

  Daris smiled. “Ah, cousin, there you are. So how did I do?”

  You were average, I was bloody marvellous. The King’s Councillor divested himself of a veil of cobwebs.

  “Not bad at all, Majesty, if your noble lords’ reactions to our little charade were anything to go by. Several of the Council are convinced I’ll lose my head before the week is out. Indeed, some of your more…faithful subjects were quick to offer sympathy and assistance now that I’m no longer in your favour. Is there any wine? I’ve swallowed a century’s worth of dust.”

  Daris waved absently at a decanter on the table. “That’s good; I thought I might have overdone it. I can’t believe people really believe that I’d give my brother a month’s grace after all he’s done. Have I been so indulgent?”

  It was left to Trease to break the deepening silence. “Going on past leniency, I think most will accept it. What matters is that your brother believes it.”

  “Aye,” agreed Hyram. “I’m sure we did enough to convince his agents, and Jerim is arrogant enough to swallow it.”

  “How soon can we be in position? I want to bottle him up in Cathlan, before he has the chance to move across the border in strength.”

  General Tyrus rocked on his heels, his small eyes narrowing to pinpricks as he stared into the middle distance, counting armies in his mind before he spoke. “Four days, Majesty. We’ll pick up Mallebeck’s Bowmen on the way. I thought it best to have them wait with the Fifteenth. Gursten’s a good woman, very discreet.”

  Daris turned to Hyram. “I take it he has the full support of all the Cathlan lords?”

  Hyram managed to compact the torrent of curses that sprang to his lips into a disdainful growl when he remembered the Cathlans’ smug faces. “Naturally, Majesty. ‘Tis all this, ‘independent kingdom’ nonsense he keeps spouting, they eat it up.”

  Tension drew Daris’s shoulders into a hunch, signing his anger louder than words. His face was composed, but the mask didn’t fool Hyram.

  “Matlin; are the Third and Second in position?” Daris asked.

  “Yes, Majesty, they’re ready to board ships at Sallis as we speak. Shall I send word for them to embark?”

  “Aye. If my brother has bought the support of Vanen Iceheart and her sea wolves, Vorbek and Costaine could be in for a fight before they even reach Carngarthe. Who else is ready to sail?”

  “The Lowland Lancers and Lady Denholme’s companies,” Trease added.

  Hyram wondered if it was wise to discuss his more subtle plans with the warriors present. Lady Tula had the wit to grasp bold schemes, but then she was an excellent game player, unlike the other two who were…uncomplicated. Lack of time made the decision for him. Tyrus and Trease could think what they liked and be damned. Hyram poured himself another glass of wine.

  He cleared his throat. “About the Iceheart…Ulyan Redbear is backing this little uprising and, as you may know, he slew the Iceheart’s family. I have it from a trusted source that none of her Wolf Raiders will try to take advantage of our ships should hostilities break out, and they certainly won’t be helping Redbear. I’ve also heard she may take the opportunity to wreak a bit more vengeance on Redbear and those who support him.”

  “You haven’t been making deals with pirates have you, Councillor Costaine?” Daris asked.

  “Of course not, Majesty,” said Hyram, trying not to overplay his innocence. Less is more.

  Daris looked unconvinced. “That had better be the truth, because if I ever catch the Iceheart and her pirates, they’ll hang for their crimes.”

  “Indeed, Majesty. Quite right too. I am informed she neither asked for, nor was offered anything except information on Redbear’s whereabouts. I am sure that her hatred for him is stronger than her dislike of Antia. Which is why she’s been told where Redbear’s ships are to be found, and who his allies are.”

  Hyram expected the disapproval of Trease and Tyrus. They did not disappoint him. The Generals scowled at
him, haughty disgust written on their faces.

  “Oh, for Asha’s sake! She would have found out anyway,” Hyram declared. “There isn’t a ship that sails between here and Guthland those bloody flying worms don’t mark. This way it looks like we’ve helped her, not the other way around.”

  “I hope you’re right, because you’ve wagered seven hundred lives on it.”

  Like all warriors, the Commander of the Royal Guards was as arrogant as he was small-minded. Normally Hyram would ignore his bleating, but he was in a foul mood after being mauled by the Council and snapped back. “D’you think I make decisions on the throw of a dice? Or do you forget that Merrin Costaine is my daughter?”

  “I dread to think how you make your decisions, and yes, I often forget that Merrin is your daughter. She’s been in the Guards since she was twelve; she’s now twenty-eight. In that time I feel sure I have seen more of her than you have.”

  “Enough, both of you,” Daris commanded. “Now is not the time.” He tapped the table, drawing their attention to the map of the kingdom that was spread across it. “The Fifth can stay here and guard the city with the First. Stenna can bring my son back and then take over command of the defences from Corvinius.” He jabbed the map. “I want the Fourth to stay at Gallen Arth for now. I need to know how many Free Companies are loose in Antia before I commit all of my forces. I need that information soon, Hyram.”

  Hyram bowed. “I’ve already sent out scouts.”

  Daris turned to the Governor of Tamalan. “Lady Tula, I need your warriors to meet us at Hainian Pass. If my brother intends to mount an invasion, that’s where he has to come through. How many can you send and how soon?”

  Her skin was as creased as old parchment, but when she lifted her face from the thick, fur collar of her cloak, her eyes shone as bright as snow in sunlight.

  “Four thousand warriors are already on their way south, my King. After reading your letter I thought they might be needed. I hope I haven’t been presumptuous?”

  Daris smiled and inclined his head. “Not at all, Lady Tula, your insight serves our kingdom well.”

  The King might be pleased, but Hyram wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think it wise to let a descendent of the Clan Lords move armies around Antia. They had a taste for such things that should not be encouraged.

  Daris folded his arms. “So that’s almost five thousand at Hainian pass, and seven hundred by sea to Carngarthe. Hardly a mighty host. How many warriors have my lords of Antia promised?”

  “We should have another eight to ten thousand in about eight days,” said Tyrus. “Maybe less time, and maybe more warriors. I’m sorry I can’t be more certain, Majesty.”

  The King fixed his gaze on the map. “If only I could be sure of all of my nobles. Damn Jerim for seeding so much division in the kingdom, after our parents almost killed themselves trying to unite it.”

  A knock at the door saved them from another uncomfortable silence. It was the King’s valet. Listening in on other people’s conversations was more than a habit for Hyram; it was a necessary part of his job. Although he didn’t make a habit of eavesdropping on the King, he couldn’t help but pick out Rufus Corvinius’s name from the rustle of whispers. Just thinking about the man made his chest ache. The Captain of the 5th was at best a rake, at worst a buffoon who could play no part in their carefully crafted plans.

  “If you will excuse me, Lady Tula, gentlemen—I have a message to send.”

  After Daris left the room, and he was satisfied that his fellow conspirators were otherwise engaged, Hyram ambled over to the slightly open door.

  “Ah, Rufus…”

  Hyram heard the King say.

  “…I need you to send your best riders with a message for Captain Stenna.”

  “As you command, Majesty,” the Knight Captain replied.

  That wasn’t too bad, thought Hyram. Not even Corvinius could make a mess of so simple a task.

  Night turned to day while Garian and Lord Hyram decided which members of the Council warranted closer investigation and who they thought trustworthy. Garian had been surprised by how easily the nobles had been deceived by Hyram and the King’s performance. It was hardly the most convincing acting he’d ever seen. But from what he’d overheard, it had been good enough to convince them that the King was once again showing leniency towards his brother.

  What infuriated him was that so many of them had gloated over Hyram’s supposed fall from the King’s favour. He knew his master didn’t possess the most endearing personality, but until today he hadn’t realised just how many enemies Hyram had at court. It galled him to think that his master had to carry the shame of being rebuked by the King and that few would ever know the truth.

  “Are you listening, boy?” Hyram barked.

  “You want me to stay in the guise of librarian, keep my eyes peeled for any assassins, and if I find any, to deal with them quietly and efficiently. No fuss no mess.”

  Hyram narrowed his eyes. “Something of an over simplification. Let’s hope for the sake of the kingdom you won’t be as casual in the performance of your duty. Mark me well; as sure as night follows day, they will come. Don’t let Olin out of your sight. He’s second in line to the throne.”

  “Who’s guarding the Queen and Prince Talin?”

  “Don’t worry about Talin. He’s with the First, and Thea has her own bodyguards. In fact, don’t worry about anything; you just concentrate on guarding the Prince. I’ll worry enough for both of us.”

  The ghost of her body lingered after Alyda crept out of bed, but as stealthy as she’d been, the lack of her presence woke him. Talin opened his eyes. She was over by the washstand, braiding her hair. Tattoos that had been drawn by a skilful hand in shades of indigo and azure, danced across her back and down her arms. Half horse, half stag creatures leaped and chased across her skin, moving as she moved.

  “What do they mean?” he asked, trying not to think about the erection waking between his thighs.

  She tossed a finished braid over her shoulder. “What do what mean?”

  “The tattoos; do they mean anything?”

  She shrugged, strong fingers deftly weaving her hair into a second braid. “No idea. All I know is they’re traditional. My mother knows, but if she ever told me, I’ve forgotten.”

  “Aren’t you curious? They’re part of your heritage—part of you.”

  Alyda gave him a wry smile. “To the Shemisana I’m a Tamalak, to the Tamalak I’m Hadami. I’ve never felt like either. Now, if you want to know anything about the history of the Royal Guards, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “If they were on me, I’d want to know.”

  “That’s because you’re nosey.” Her eyes sparkled in the flickering candlelight. “Do you like them? Or do you think they’re barbaric, like most proper Antians?”

  “I like them. But then, if you were covered in horse shit I’d like it.”

  “That’s good, because you’d be surprised how often that happens.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’ve been around you long enough now.”

  She dived onto the bed and sat astride him, pinning him beneath the covers. He wrapped himself around her and rolled over onto her, reversing their positions.

  “Stay,” he whispered.

  She sighed. “I can’t.”

  He didn’t ask again, he didn’t want to spoil the moment. She pushed him off and got up and finished dressing.

  “Will I see you tonight?” he asked.

  “Whenever you want, Highness. I’m at your service.” She winked and tucked her boots under her arm before quietly lifting the door latch.

  “I’ll see you later…” He was about to add, “My love”, but the door was already closing.

  Night hadn’t quite faded from the sky, the birds hadn’t woken, and the foxes had returned to their dens. It was the still time, the frozen moment just before dawn broke and the world woke. Alyda loved being up this early and going to see her horses while it was quiet, but today it wa
s not to be. The moment she set foot outside of Talin’s rooms, Jamie waylaid her.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you, Captain,” he said, slightly out of breath.

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “A messenger has arrived from the King.”

  “Sit down before you fall down,” Alyda ordered the knight in russet and silver. The knight flopped into a chair. Alyda broke the King’s seal and read the letter.

  Captain Stenna,

  You are to escort my son back to Weyhithe immediately. You will then report to Captain Corvinius for further orders. The First Company are to ride at once for Gallen Arth and await your return.

  Daris.

  Alyda peered over the letter at the messenger. Her mousy hair was plastered to her head, and she was sitting awkwardly on one arse-cheek, like she was saddle-sore. Hardly the kind of person Alyda would have trusted to deliver a missive from the King, however brief. Although thinking about it, she might have been the best the 5th had to offer.

  “Well, that’s short and to the point. What’s your name, knight?”

  “Dervla, Captain Stenna. Dervla Kellam.”

  “Did the King give you this, Dervla?”

  “Aye, Captain, and he told me that it must be delivered to you with all haste. I haven’t stopped since leaving Weyhithe except to change horses, not even to eat or sleep.”

  Alyda ignored her whiny tone. “And there’s nothing amiss in Weyhithe?”

  The woman winced as she changed position. “All was well when I left, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Dervla. Go report to the watch, they’ll find you a bunk and something to eat.”

  The knight looked like she was about to faint, but climbed to her feet and gave Alyda a sloppy salute before hobbling from the room.

  “Do you think we’re going to war with Jerim?” Jamie asked.

  “That’s Prince Jerim, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I just don’t understand why the King wants to send the Company to Gallen Arth. The Black Lancers don’t need our protection, and there’s nothing else up there worth defending.” She examined the letter. “I’ve never received orders directly from the King.”