The Black King (Book 7)

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  He landed, moments later, with a loud splash.

  Ace sighed and wiped his hands on the tree bark. The blood stained it, making it even darker. Then he propped his feet on the branch and shifted back into his Gull form. He had to get one of these bastards to talk. Gift may have had an idea who wanted him dead, but Ace wanted confirmation.

  The next tree was shaking as well, and so was the tree beyond that and the tree beyond that. His Gull Riders, attempting to find out who wanted the Black Heir dead.

  Ace flew to the next tree.

  Abdal was in his Fey form, holding an unfamiliar knife to an archer’s throat. The archer’s quiver had spilled arrows down the tree and onto the ground. The bow was caught in a branch just below them. There was blood on the archer’s chin but he looked oddly calm.

  Abdal’s hand was shaking. Gull Riders were not normally soldiers. Usually they were scouts. Abdal hadn’t even gone on the raid against the first archers. Now he was here, in an unfamiliar place.

  “Who hired you?” he asked again in Fey.

  The archer had an unlined face, kept carefully blank. Ace couldn’t tell if the man understood or not.

  He flew to the nearest branch and peered down. The archer saw him, but said nothing.

  “Try Nyeian,” Ace said.

  Abdal sighed. “I already have.”

  “Islander?”

  “I don’t speak it.”

  But Ace had the sense that the archer was following this conversation. Something in the stillness of the man’s body, something in his eyes....

  Ace hopped down a branch and looked closer. The archer turned away. Ace’s heart started to pound.

  “Look at me,” he said in Fey.

  The archer closed his eyes.

  Abdal’s mouth opened slightly. With his free hand, he grabbed the archer’s chin, and yanked the archer’s face toward Ace.

  “Look at me,” Ace said again.

  The archer kept his eyes closed. Ace wanted to shift, but didn’t dare. He’d lose his perch on the branch. Instead he leaned closer and rested the tip of his beak against the archer’s right eyelid.

  “Look at me,” Ace said, “or I’ll remove your eye myself.”

  The man’s eyes flew open, and Ace gasped in spite of himself. Gold flecks. The archer had gold flecks in his eyes.

  He was a Doppelgänger. Doppelgängers killed their hosts and took their host’s form, along with his memories. This Doppelgänger had killed an Islander who had been part of this assassination team and had taken his place without anyone suspecting. The only thing that gave him away—that gave all Doppelgängers away—was the gold flecks in his eyes.

  “Who sent you?” Ace asked.

  The man’s mouth formed a thin line.

  Ace pushed on the eyelid. “Tell me who sent you or I swear I’ll disfigure you in ways you’ll never forget.”

  “All right,” the man said in perfect Fey. His voice was raspy because of the knife against his throat. “Take your beak out of my eye, and I’ll tell you.”

  Ace took a step backwards. The man sat up, carefully so as not to lose his balance. Abdal kept a grip on the knife.

  “We heard talk about an uprising among the Islanders,” the man said. “I was sent here to find out what was going on.”

  “We?” Ace asked.

  The man nodded. He wiped at his chin. Blood smeared across his fingers. “I report to the palace.”

  Ace went cold. He had thought that Gift and his sister Arianna were on good terms. “To whom at the palace?”

  “The Black Family.”

  “Queen Arianna?”

  “Her uncle and cousin have joined her now.”

  Ace swallowed. Bridge hadn’t seemed like a cunning man, but Lyndred—beautiful Lyndred—had been cunning. Would she have sent someone after her own cousin?

  “What were you supposed to do here?”

  “Find out what was happening.”

  “You’re here with a group of assassins. Weren’t you supposed to stop them?”

  “As an Islander? With a bow and arrow? What was the chance of that?”

  “I don’t care about chances,” Ace said. “I care about your orders.”

  “My orders were to report.”

  “And to shoot Gift if you saw him?”

  The man shook his head.

  “But you weren’t supposed to save him either, were you?”

  “I assumed there were others who were supposed to do that,” the man said. It sounded like a lie.

  “What’s your name?” Ace asked.

  “Reginald.” A Nyeian name. He was young then. He had probably come to the Isle with Rugad.

  Now Ace had to figure out what to do with him. They couldn’t bring him to the ship. A Doppelgänger was dangerous, particularly around non-Fey like the Nyeians. With one grasp of a hand, he could bring someone close, then put his fingers in his eyes, his thumb in their mouth, and pull their essence out of them. He could transform himself into someone else in a matter of minutes.

  Of course, once they found the bones, they’d search for him, but he could be long gone. And things would get worse if he tried to take over Gift.

  Ace shuddered. That violated Fey code, but Reginald’s presence seemed to do that anyway.

  “Are you done questioning him?” Abdal asked.

  Ace shook his head. His bird head stayed in place, watching Reginald. It seemed to unnerve him. “I thought Gift was popular with the Islanders.”

  “They don’t know him.” Reginald was as far back on the branch as he could be. It was bending slightly. Too much weight and it would break. Ace wondered if Reginald could survive the fall into the river.

  “They’re trying to kill him because they don’t know him?”

  “Rumors have been flying all over this part of the Isle. It’s said he touched the Black Throne and now he wants to be Black King. It’s said once he becomes king, he’ll kill every Islander”

  Ace lifted his wings, a gull sign of surprise. “You believe that?”

  “I believe he’s touched the Throne. I believe he went to the Eccrasian Mountains to find a way to overthrow his sister.”

  Ace turned his bird head toward Abdal. Abdal looked as surprised as Ace felt.

  “What about the Blood against Blood?” Abdal asked.

  “He could overthrow her without killing her,” Reginald said. “She’s peaceful. She needs someone to defend her.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Ace asked. “I thought your orders came from the palace.”

  “I didn’t say they came from her.”

  “Wouldn’t she know if someone had sent you here?” Abdal asked.

  “Why would you follow someone else’s orders?” Ace asked.

  “I don’t speak to the Black Queen directly,” Reginald said. “My orders always come from someone else.”

  “Who did they come from this time?”

  “Jair,” Reginald said.

  “And he is?” Ace asked.

  “The head of the Fey Infantry on the Isle.”

  “A Doppelgänger taking orders from the Infantry?”

  Reginald looked a bit guilty. “Sometimes. Things aren’t as structured here.”

  “I guess not,” Abdal said.

  “You took orders from an Infantry leader, orders that could lead to the death of the Black Heir, and you didn’t question them?” Ace’s voice rose. He had to concentrate to keep it down slightly.

  “No one said to kill him.”

  “No one said to defend him either,” Ace said.

  Reginald’s cheeks flushed. “Isn’t that why you guys are here?”

  “Gull Riders as a defense?” Abdal said.

  “You were doing pretty good,” Reginald said, touching his throat.

  “Better than you do when you lie.” Ace hopped a little closer. “If you were ordered not to defend the Black Heir, aren’t you worried that your actions could cause Blood against Blood?”

  “I’m not of the Black
Family,” Reginald said.

  “But you have three members in the palace. Arianna, Bridge, and Lyndred. What if your orders came from one of them?”

  “No one told me to kill anyone!” Reginald scooted back just a little farther. “Besides, he touched the Black Throne.”

  “How do you know?” Ace said.

  Reginald’s flush grew deeper. “The Visionaries, like Jair, they all saw a black stream cross the sky. They all knew the power came from the Throne. Only a member of the Black Family could have done that. Only Gift was close.”

  “Do you know that for a fact?”

  Reginald frowned.

  “What of Rugan, Rugat, or Golden?” Ace said, listing Bridge’s siblings. “What if it had been one of their children?”

  “I don’t know.” Clearly Reginald hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think the Shaman would have let them into the mountains.”

  “The Shaman, denying a member of the Black Family?”

  “They can’t,” Abdal said. “By law. The Black Family must be allowed access to the Black Throne. You know that.”

  A few yards away, someone screamed. Reginald’s head turned. A body—an Islander, his white skin and blond hair vivid in the gray light—broke through one of the trees and fell, slapping against the bluff with a sickening thud. He landed with a smack in the water below.

  Reginald swallowed. “I’d forgotten it.”

  This time, Ace knew he was speaking the truth. “If you were ordered here, then why are the Islanders here?”

  “I told you,” Reginald said. “They believe Gift is going to slaughter them all.”

  “Where did that belief come from?”

  Reginald shrugged. “I didn’t know about it until I joined them.”

  “Think,” Abdal said. “You have memories from your host. Use them.”

  Reginald glanced at the water below. He seemed to realize how close to the edge he was. “They were rumors. Everyone heard them.”

  “Everyone?”

  “All the Islanders in my host’s village.”

  “And who spread those rumors?”

  Reginald shrugged.

  Ace was feeling frustrated. “How did they know Gift was coming back?”

  Reginald spread his hands. “I really don’t know. My host didn’t know. Someone put the rumor out there, and the Islanders believed it.”

  “Someone,” Ace said. “Someone who knew Gift was coming.”

  “It leads back to the palace, doesn’t it?” Abdal said.

  Ace turned both of his heads toward Reginald. “Blood against Blood.”

  Reginald was shaking. “I wouldn’t have caused it.”

  “But you would have let a Black Heir die.”

  “I thought he was going to cause it,” Reginald said.

  Truth at last. Reginald would have let a member of the Black Family die to protect the Fey. Maybe they all would, if they believed it. But Ace had traveled with Gift for months now, and had never seen that kind of evil in him.

  “What do I do with you?” Ace asked Reginald.

  “You kill him,” Abdal said. “He already said he would have let Gift die.”

  Ace was staring at Reginald. Reginald glanced at the water below, probably calculating whether or not he’d survive the fall. Another scream echoed, harsh and raspy. Ace’s people were doing their work.

  Reginald glanced at him. “I’ll find out who gave the orders.”

  “You already told me,” Ace said. “Jair.”

  “No,” Reginald said. “Who gave him the orders.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I wouldn’t bring on the Blood against Blood.”

  “You nearly did.” Ace said.

  “I didn’t know.” There was desperation in Reginald’s voice. “Please. I’ll help you. I’ll help Gift. I’ll make sure no one attacks him. I’ll even ride on your ship if you let me.”

  “And kill the Black Heir yourself,” Abdal said.

  Reginald shook his head so furiously the branch bounced. He grabbed it in sudden fright. So he didn’t think he’d survive the fall. Ace wondered if there was a percentage in killing him.

  “All you’re supposed to do is report, right?” Ace asked.

  Reginald stopped moving. His grip on the branch was so tight his knuckles were pale. “Yes.”

  “Then report.”

  “What?” Abdal asked.

  Another scream echoed, higher, filled with more panic. Perhaps Gull Riders should be soldiers more often.

  Reginald asked, “Should I find out for you who was—”

  “No,” Ace said. “Just report.”

  “Report what? That the Black Heir is dead?”

  Ace glanced toward the west. The ship’s sails looked much larger now. “Report the truth—that the Black Heir survived. Let them know that he’ll be at the palace soon.”

  “I can’t get there before you,” Reginald said.

  “Of course not. You have a message system set up. There are probably Bird Riders or Wisps nearby. You can make your report.”

  “That gives them time to prepare for him,” Abdal said.

  “Do you expect them to meet him with a full army?” Ace asked.

  “I don’t know,” Abdal said. “It’s crazy here.”

  Ace had to agree. But if Gift didn’t like this idea, then he could change it.

  “How many others of you are there?”

  “No Doppelgängers,” Reginald said. “At least that I’m aware of.”

  “Archers,” Ace said. “I meant archers. How many more assassins will we find?”

  “There are nests every ten miles or so,” Reginald said. “Only a handful of people though. Most Islanders are afraid of the Fey. Or don’t believe the rumors. A few even think Fey rule is good for the Isle.”

  “Who are these assassins, then?” Abdal asked.

  “Those who never got over losing the war,” Reginald said.

  “They won the war.” Ace’s voice was flat. “The Black King died.”

  “They lost,” Reginald said. “The Fey are still on the Isle.”

  “How many Islanders believe that?” Ace asked.

  “Most of them,” Reginald said.

  “But Arianna shares the blood of the hereditary rulers.”

  “And she looks Fey,” Reginald said. “Some Islanders hope they can get their land back. They think killing Gift would be a good first step.”

  “It’ll only bring the wrath of the palace on them.”

  “They believe it’ll start the war again. They think the Fey won’t survive it this time.”

  “Why?” Ace asked.

  Reginald shuddered. “They’re reviving the religion.”

  “The one that killed Rugar’s people?” Abdal asked.

  Ace looked at him. He hadn’t heard this.

  “Yes,” Reginald said. “They’re searching for someone who knows the Secrets. They believe if they find an Aud or a Danite who wasn’t killed by the Fey, he’ll be able to recreate all the religion’s weapons. And then they can use the weapons to defeat the Fey.”

  Ace frowned. “So this is the first shot in a war.”

  “If they can bring down the Black Family and wipe the Fey off the Isle, they will,” Reginald said.

  Abdal’s eyes narrowed. He obviously didn’t believe Reginald. “You said there weren’t that many of them.”

  “There aren’t. They believe more Islanders will join their cause as they have some successes.”

  Ace glanced down the river. It had been too easy to defeat them so far. “Well, they won’t have any success if they continue on this course.”

  “They’re just beginning,” Reginald said.

  “So you have faith in them?”

  Reginald shrugged. “I have faith in the Fey.”

  The correct answer, of course. But did that mean Reginald had faith in all Fey or those he knew on the Isle?

  It ultimately wasn’t for Ace to decide. “Make your report,
” he said. “We’ll see you when you reach Jahn.”

  Reginald glanced at the knife that Abdal still held. Abdal grinned slowly at him. “You’ll have to make it back without your weapons.”

  “How do I know the rest of your Gull Riders will leave me alone?” Reginald asked.

  Ace shrugged. “it’s a chance you’ll have to take.”

  “I could talk to the Black Heir,” Reginald said, “explain to him what I told you.”

  “You could,” Ace said. “Or I could lose patience with you and change my mind about your survival.”

  Reginald nodded once, swung off the branch. His feet caught a branch below him, and he slowly worked his way down.

  Ace waited until he was all the way to the bottom and starting to run before saying to Abdal: “You follow him. Make sure he doesn’t take over someone else. We need to be able to track him.”

  “You think Gift’ll want him to go free?”

  “I don’t know,” Ace said. “But I know we can find you. If Gift doesn’t like what I’ve done, we can always find Reginald and kill him.”

  “What do I do when he reaches the messenger?”

  “Follow the messenger. Stay out of sight if you can. We’ll meet you in the city.”

  Abdal nodded, set the knife on the branch, and shifted into his Gull form. Then he flew away, going low so that he could keep Reginald in sight.

  Ace watched for a moment. An occasional glimpse of a Gull Rider would keep Reginald in line. He would strive to complete his mission as quickly as possible.

  Still, the entire meeting left Ace unsettled. Obviously the Islanders were mounting a campaign—however small—against the Fey. But Ace was convinced that they were unwitting accomplices of a Fey mastermind. And he was afraid that the mastermind was a member of the Black Family.

  He remembered how easily Bridge had gotten him off the ship. How Lyndred’s black eyes had an intelligence beyond anything Ace had ever seen. How beautiful that intelligence made her.

  And how dangerous.

  Had the two of them influenced Arianna against her brother?

  He would have to tell Gift.

  The next few days wouldn’t be easy. For anyone.

  TEN

  MATT HADN’T BEEN to the Vault since his father died. And he hadn’t gone much before that. His father who had once been the 51st Rocaan, head of Blue Isle’s religion, spent his last years in the Vault as he went mad. He usually forgot to wash and sometimes forgot to eat. The place smelled of filth and piss and his father’s sickness.