The crowd cheered louder than ever and Cyn bowed to the four corners of the arena.
“You must join me for dinner,” Tar Nacht said, his voice barely heard over the din of the crowd.
Tarina de Baard turned to him, puzzled for a moment. ‘Surely he does not think to seduce me,’ she thought, but when she looked into his eyes she knew instantly that seduction was not on his mind.
“I have a great opportunity for you…if you’re willing to take it,” he said.
A small, dangerous smile blossomed on Cyn’s face. “I will eat with you,” she answered.
Three hours later she walked up the long stairway that led to the Great Hall of Sinis. Surprisingly, she was slightly nervous, but she was also proud, proud to be now wearing the robes of a Tar Executioner; black fabric with twin strips of red along the borders. She knew she’d never looked quite so good…perhaps, just perhaps, she would take a lover. A man or a woman…it did not matter, but whoever it was would die when she was done with them. She loathed loose ends…yes a lover…she may do just that.
Tar Nacht was waiting for her in a relatively small, intimate room dimly lit by a small fire and four lanterns mounted on the walls. There was also a candelabra containing eight candles sitting on the center of the lone table in the room. Cyn’s eyebrows briefly rose as she entered. Perhaps her initial suspicions were correct about the High Tar’s intentions.
“Come…come,” he said motioning toward a chair as she entered. “This,” he added indicated the room with a sweep of his hands, “is not what you might think. I have no designs on trying to bed you. This is my own personal dining area and I prefer to eat here rather than in the larger dining hall. I like the privacy.”
Cyn de Baard nodded and sat, taking him at his word. It was well known that the High Tar preferred to eat alone. Many believed he was fearful of being poisoned, and while that was not completely unheard of, it was very, very rare for the High Tar to be killed in such a way. For one thing the right of succession would fall into question and it was very likely the new High Tar would be immediately challenged, since to kill a rival in such an indirect way was viewed as weak and cowardly by all that called Sinis home. The High Tar must appear invincible to the other twenty-nine Tars if the title was to be retained for any length of time. Even so, the longest reign of any High Tar was just under twenty years and that by the indomitable Tar Kullardi, who successfully defended his claim to the High position no less than nine times.
Tar Nacht, though formidable was no Tar Kullardi, but Cyn thought he may have the skill to hold his present position for several more years.
The meal consisted of generous portions of fresh crab, lobster and shrimp along with a selection of green salad, fruits and nuts. Lemon ice, a rare treat, was also served. They ate in silence for a time before Tar Nacht finally wiped his mouth with his linen napkin. Cyn noticed that he did so daintily, almost ladylike and smiled inwardly.
‘Perhaps his tastes did not run to the opposite sex,’ she thought, which would explain why his eyes showed no real interest in her.
“I would like you to accompany me on a trip I will make in three days time,” the High Tar explained.
“A trip?” Cyn asked. She was not surprised that she would be traveling. Most of the messy work fell to the new Tar Executioners, though few complained, after all executions were their business; it’s what they loved. But she was surprised to be traveling with the High Tar.
“Yes, the High King has requested my presence. I would like you to join me,” Nacht explained as if she had a choice. She didn’t. Cyn did not mind however, to travel to the King’s Island was something very few Tars had the privilege to do.
“He wishes to kill someone?” she asked.
Tar Nacht smiled, then shrugged. “Perhaps…and if so the target must be very, very important. If the High King requests an Execution, it would be a worthy task of our new Tarina; don’t you think?” he asked and raised his glass, saluting her new title.
Tarina Cyn de Baard raised hers as well, but no smile came to her face. She was honored by the invitation, but all of her senses were now strumming, the sound of danger clearly resonating in the tune the High Tar was playing.
III
The first of the summer rains started the day after Lonogan Bock left for Cape. Rue informed everyone that severe weather could break out very suddenly on the Plateau, not only were strong thunderstorms a common occurrence, but cyclone twisters could be expected as well. At first Gwaynn felt a bit guilty about sending Bock out in the strong, steady rain, but in the end he decided it was for the best. It had to be done, and the sooner they got about it, the sooner they would rid Massi of the Deutzani occupiers. He stood at the barn door for a moment, looking out through the driving rain. He gazed past the hedgerows and to the Plateau beyond. Strong winds bent the trees and hedges sending new green leaves swirling about the yard. He wondered if his father ever spent a summer in the vast openness. He doubted it. The Plateau was remote and sparsely populated.
The winds shifted, suddenly pelting Gwaynn with large, cold drops so he moved deeper into the barn until he came to Eve’s stall. The mare was restless, having grown accustomed to traveling, but he would not be taking her out today. He patted her neck, and fed her a carrot by way of apology. She took it willingly but snorted her displeasure when his hands were finally empty.
“Sorry girl,” he said softly and then turned when he heard running footsteps behind him. Samantha came around the corner and out of the rain. She shook her head and arms trying to rid her hair and clothes of as much excess water as possible before also heading farther into the barn. She was almost upon Gwaynn before she realized he was standing before her.
“Hello,” Gwaynn said trying not to startle her, but she jumped fiercely in any case. He noticed how her eyes widened in fear when she looked at him and wondered at it.
“Hi…hi,” Sam answered and then looked away and over to Bull. The horse moved to the front of his stall when he heard her voice. “I didn’t know anyone was out here,” she added, trying to act indifferent. There was something about the Prince that attracted and repelled her at the same time. She felt very uneasy in his presence even with other people around, but she was not sure why that should be. He’d saved her life, she knew that for a fact, Navarra would have killed her easily, ax or no. Plus he’d never given her any reason at all to fear for her well being in his presence. Her mind knew this, but her body reacted in the completely opposite manner.
Gwaynn fumbled around trying to think of something to say. “I just came out to check on Eve,” he said and patted his jet-black horse on the neck once more.
“She’s magnificent,” Samantha said, but knew she would choose Bull over any horse if she had her way.
Gwaynn tried to smile at her but noticed that she was already looking away, down the row of stalls. Gwaynn scratched his head, his mind a complete blank.
‘It was never this hard with Mille,’ he thought, but then realized being around Mille was easy because she rarely stopped talking. Samantha was quiet, introspect. They were very alike in that respect. In fact, he realized they had much in common.
“He…he killed my mother and my sister,” Gwaynn blurted without thinking. Sam looked back up at him again, startled. She knew exactly who he was talking about and her eyes grew fearful, but then they softened.
“He was a bastard,” she spat with such hate that Gwaynn did not smile or react to her language.
“He’s dead now,” he answered, feeling his own hate for the man rising inside him. He glanced at Eve, then back at Samantha who was now staring at him with such intensity that he was reminded of the day when she’d first run into his life…she had wild, crazy eyes.
“He raped me,” she confessed suddenly, without meaning to, and it was his turn to be startled. “He raped me while my head was tied to the block, with my dead family all around,” she continued. “I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t tell anyone; that I would keep it a secret…wh
o would know then? I don’t even know why I’m telling you now,” she finished still looking up at him directly, refusing to look away, and Gwaynn found that he couldn’t…shouldn’t, and so their eyes remained locked.
“My dress kept falling down so he cut my arms free, and when he was finished he left me there and went into the house,” she continued on with her story, telling everything, about her fear, Wake, her jump from the Scar and most of her time with Cobb. She’d sucked it all into her soul and now she spit it all out as if it was a deadly poison, and in a way it was just that.
When she finished she was crying softly. Gwaynn listened to it all in silence, and then with a dark fascination he reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched away from his hand violently and took several steps back.
She looked at him, her face filled with hate and anger then she remembered where she was and who she was with. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Your eyes…they remind me of his.”
Of all the things she’d said in the past hour, this shocked Gwaynn the most and he took a step backward away from her, then another and before he could stop himself he turned completely around and strode out of the barn and into the rain.
“Gwaynn!” she cried from behind, but he continued on, acting as if he had not heard.
ǂ
Zarina Monde was nervous. Executioners always made her nervous in any case, but the fact that there’d been no word from High Zarina Aleecia for the last few days put her on the very edge. Monde sat outside the private rooms of Tar Nacht waiting to deliver him to the King’s Island. The summons was abrupt and the request to speak with Zarina Aleecia refused, all of which did nothing to help the Monde’s state of mind. Something was not right. She could feel it. The High Zarina had been missing for nearly four days with no word. It wasn’t like her, not like her at all.
Monde stood up from the wooden bench; ignoring the looks she was getting from the pair of guards outside the Tar’s door and walked slowly to the window. She was short and had to stand on her toes to see anything but sky. As it was there was not much to see, just the tops of a few trees and the Inland Sea beyond. The salty wind felt good however, though it blew her fine auburn hair about. She ran her hands through it, then pulled it together and tied it off into a ponytail just as the door to the Tar’s inner chamber opened.
The guards snapped to attention. Zarina Monde turned and saw Tar Nacht, a tall thin man with long limbs. He was dressed as an Executioner, completely in black, including a pair of black gloves. At his belt he wore a set of kali. Monde raised her eyebrows at the sight of them.
“Special permission received by the High King,” Nacht said with a gleam in his eye.
The High Tar, for the most part, was attractive. His hair and eyes were dark and only a deep red scar above his right eye marred his appearance. He reportedly contracted the scar in his fight with the former High Tar, but that was something Monde knew very little about. Next to him was a statuesque woman…another Executioner, also dressed in black and also wearing a set of kali. The woman was extremely attractive with dark hair and large doe eyes that when matched with her flawless skin painted a picture of soft innocence. But Monde realized it was a picture that was not to be trusted. Monde wondered briefly if the Executioners were lovers.
“The High King did not inform me that weapons would be allowed,” Zarina Monde replied, the hairs on her neck rising and moving slightly in the breeze coming off the sea.
Tar Nacht shrugged. “You are free to contact him if you wish, but then we will be late for the summons. I leave the decision up to you,” he said with a smile.
Monde considered it for a moment, this new dilemma not helping her nerves. They would be Traveling to inner courtyard of Rosethorn Castle. Monde had Traveled there in the past. The courtyard was very well guarded and it seemed very unlikely that the High Tar would be so reckless as to attempt an assassination from such a place, even with an additional Executioner. The two were also wearing their weapons in plain sight so guile was not an issue.
“No,” Monde answered but still the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach persisted. “We should go.”
“As you wish,” Tar Nacht replied, and both he and the woman smiled at her, which did nothing to dispel Monde’s queasiness.
Tar Nacht led them down a hallway and to the main audience chamber, which was large and at the moment very dimly lit.
“We will leave from here,” The High Tar said and Monde’s stomach rolled completely over. She said nothing, however, and without further prompting began to work her hands and arms in the patterns which would bring about the bridge between Sinis and the King’s Island. Her eyes were closed and her brow furrowed in concentration as she manipulated space and time with her thoughts. Her concentration was total; though she was also very aware of the two Executioners at her back…one was standing very close behind. She worked swiftly wanting to be done with this task as quickly as possible. As the bridge began to form she felt the two at her back tense and move even closer.
“Leave the bridge open,’ her mind screamed urgently to her. Over the years Monde learned to listen to the voice in her head, those times she chose to ignore it always spelled disaster. She would leave a way back, only a small one, invisible to most, but a connection that could be quickly expanded if needed.
The courtyard before them appeared empty from their limited prospective and as soon as it was stable Monde turned to the pair at her back.
“Travel,” she commanded and they stepped through the bridge. Monde apprehensively followed and the bridge shrank quickly behind them, and then, almost immediately after they were through, Monde spotted Zar Crimpier and Nic de Austral, both obviously dead. They lay at the very feet of the High King, who was watching her with wide expectant eyes. Monde spun away from the two Executioners just a bit slowly and felt a hammer blow on her left shoulder. She cried out, and with speed that surprised even herself, she expanded the bridge and leaped through with a fair amount of grace for a Traveler. The bridge collapsed behind her in less than a second and six inches of a kali clattered to the ground, cut cleanly in two by the collapsing bubble in space.
Zarina Monde fell onto the cold, stone floor of Tar Nacht’s audience chamber and rolled over. She let out an involuntary scream as pain shot through her shoulder then she climbed to her knees, her back on fire. She glanced over and was surprised to see the hilt of a kali sticking out of her upper back. Her breathing increased and beads of sweat immediately appeared on her forehead. She believed she’d been punched, not stabbed. Despite her pain, she forced herself to begin working on a bridge home, though now she struggled with the hand motions, and her brain felt fuzzy. However the sound of running feet propelled her on and within moments the bridge appeared and rapidly firmed up. She crawled through onto the soft grass outside the Grand Hall on the Isle of Light and turned back to see a dozen soldiers and Executioners racing her way. The bridge closed with a loud pop, testifying to her lack of control, but she was safe…at least for the moment.
‘They’re dead…they’re all dead,’ her mind screamed, but she remained relatively calm as she struggled to her feet and then staggered forward to warn those who remained alive.
ǂ
The rain continued intermittently for three more days before the dawn brought clear skies and clean, cool morning air. Over the past few days Gwaynn carefully avoided Samantha, though he was sure she’d noticed his reticent attitude toward her. Thankfully, when they were thrown in proximity with each other, she said nothing.
“When you return I wish to spar with you,” Afton Sath said from the front porch where he was enjoying the quiet of the morning with Rue. Because of his time on Noble, Gwaynn was accustomed to rising early and he found he preferred the morning hours.
“Krys and Samantha both tell me you’re quite good,” Sath added.
Gwaynn smiled. “If you wish,” he answered then turned and began the three-mile run to Koshka.
Running felt strange at first, but
Gwaynn soon found his rhythm and it quickly felt like an old friend. As he ran, his mind fell into a rhythm of its own, wandering through his memories of both the recent and distant past. But no matter how far they traveled his thoughts always seemed to return to the girl…Samantha. For some odd reason he just couldn’t put her out of his mind. He wondered what Gwynn would make of her. He wondered what Gwynn would make of her twin brother now that he’d changed so drastically. And he had changed; he knew that, though he clearly remembered his old self, his old fears and concerns. He’d been so petty, so fixated on the mundane. It seemed impossible that he could have ever been that person…that coward. Where had this new courage come from? At first he believed it came from the fact that everyone he ever cared for was dead. Why worry about living if there was nothing and no one to live for? But now he rejected such ideas. He had many things to live for; he would take back his country for one, and he cared for others…maybe too much…maybe too easily.
He was jerked out of his thoughts as he rounded a shallow bend in the road and Koshka came into view. He was surprised he’d covered the distance so quickly. By Noble standards it was an easy run, and though he was breathing deeply, he was not overly winded. He meant to turn back before actually going into town, but he spotted a group of Deutzani riders moving down the main street heading south toward the forest. His body continued forward seemingly of its own volition. What he planned to do he did not know. He only had a pair of six inch knives on him, so attacking the enemy was completely out of the question, even so he moved cautiously off the road and around the back of the one general store in town.
As he approached closer he could hear heated voices on the far side of the store, and so kept a close eye on his immediate surroundings. He did not want to be discovered or confronted at this time. He was not overly worried however, if discovered he planned to manipulate time just enough to slip out into the forest and hide. Young as he was, Gwaynn still realized that there was a time and place for everything. He would not fight now unless forced to.
Assassin of the Heart: Book Two: The Temple Islands Series Page 5