Certainly the Queen would not wish to live with the stink of tar once it was no longer necessary. Heavy, crimson velvet curtains draped massive windows on one side of the room, and rare animal skins were scattered on the floor. Stuffed heads snarled on the walls amid paintings and tapestries, and scantily clad youths in silken loincloths stood like statues between real stone images of nubile girls and muscular men. One statue looked a lot like a Mujar, and Kieran made a point of not staring at it.
Larina settled on her throne, arranged her rich clothes around her and clapped her hands. A youth came to life and hurried over to kneel before her.
"Bring a table, a stool and some wine," she ordered.
The boy hastened away as her advisors arranged themselves around her and the soldiers placed the stone on the floor at her feet, then backed out, bowing. The table and stool arrived swiftly, carried by more youths. They poured two cups of wine and handed them to the Queen and her guest. Kieran sat on the stool and sniffed the wine before he tasted it. The Queen took a sip from her goblet and leant forward.
"I'm sure you can guess the bargain I have in mind," she said.
Kieran nodded. "The sword for the stone."
"Exactly. That weapon will bring me more good fortune than the stone, I think. Whoever sent you to steal it was a fool. I would have struck the bargain with them, had they offered it. I don't care who they are, I must have that sword."
Kieran knew that she was lying, but it did not matter. He was not about to mention the Starsword's other properties. His eyes narrowed as he contemplated the ruby wine in his silver goblet. "How do I know you won't kill me the moment I hand over the sword?"
Larina smiled, a rictus almost as chilling at the Torrak Jahar's sinister laughter. "I give you my word, you will not be harmed. Leave the sword, and you're free to go, with the stone, of course."
Kieran swirled his wine to distract himself, longing to laugh at her insincere words. Only a fool would accept her bargain, but for now, he must be one. "That's it? You don't want to know who sent me?"
"If you have the urge to tell me, then do so. But I can see that a strong warrior like you would be immune to torture, so why should I try? So long as you have that sword you're invincible, it seems, if you can defeat eight of my black army. Therefore, if I want it, the only way for me to get it is to be honest with you and offer you a fair deal."
Kieran hid a smile. He was by no means invincible, as Tyrander had proven. Archers could kill him easily enough, for the sword offered no protection against bolts and arrows, or even spears, for that matter. The Queen's black army could have overwhelmed him through sheer numbers, and even she must know that. The Queen pandered to his ego, flattering him to further her plans. She did want to know who had sent him, and she also had no intention of losing her precious Stone of Good Fortune. She had judged him a common fighting man, with more brawn than brains with an ego to match. This worked to Kieran's advantage, however, for he could outwit the Queen easily on these terms. She interrupted his musing.
"You're unhappy with what I offer? I suppose the stone is no use to you, but surely your employers will pay you handsomely when you deliver it to them?"
"They'll be angry that I lost the sword," he replied, not wishing to appear a complete moron.
"Yes of course." She considered this, her eyes narrowed. "It must be very valuable, priceless. Would you take a bag of silver, more than they would have paid you? Then if they're so angry that they refuse to pay you for the stone, you won't have lost."
Kieran nodded with feigned reluctance, laughing inwardly. She had not offered him silver instead of the stone, proving that she intended to find out the identity of his patrons.
The Queen clapped her hands to summon a youth, and ordered, "Bring me a bag of silver, and my father's sword."
At Kieran's startled glance, she explained, "You must have a sword." Her smile dripped venom, but he ignored it and nodded in apparent satisfaction.
Two youths soon returned, one with a heavy bag, the other bearing a huge sword with a jewelled hilt. They set the items on the table and backed away, bowing. Larina beamed at Kieran.
"Would you like two servants to carry the stone for you? It's very heavy."
He sent her a low-browed glance that told he was not that stupid, and shook his head. "Only as far as the palace gates."
She sighed, shaking her head in reproof. "I've told you I have no interest in who sent you, but have it your way."
At her command, two servants brought a satchel and placed the stone inside it, along with the bag of silver. They carried it to the door and waited as Kieran unbuckled the Starsword and laid it on the table in its scabbard. That way it would baffle the Queen for a little longer, he hoped. Picking up the jewelled weapon, he bowed to Larina, who smiled with feigned benevolence as he backed away.
Outside, he strode down the corridor, the servants trotting to keep up, their sandals slapping the marble floor in an annoying patter. Soon they panted from the heaviness of their load and the speedy pace he set, but he ignored their pleas to slow down. He needed to get out of the castle as quickly as he could. Following their gasped directions, he arrived at the palace's main entrance, huge wooden doors bound and studded in copper.
Dawn brightened the sky with pale golden streaks as he trotted down the broad steps into the royal inner city, heading for the gates. The guards let him pass on the servants' instructions, and he crossed the expanse of parkland along a tar road to reach the outer gates, which stood open. There, he took the satchel from the sweating flunkies and shouldered it with a grunt.
The drab, deserted streets gradually lost their creeping shadows as the sun rose to dry the dew from them, and Kieran counted at least four furtive figures following him in the growing light. Hiding a smile, he paused to switch his burden to the other shoulder as the first one began to ache unbearably. People emerged from their homes as the day dawned. Women threw buckets of slops into the gutter and men yawned as they trudged to work.
Kieran entered an affluent inn, ignoring the sleepy proprietor's surprised look as he went straight through it and into the bustling kitchen. Bleary-eyed cooks frowned at him as he exited the back door on the heels of a kitchen boy carrying a pail of dirty water. He paused to check the street for spies, and, failing to find any, set off towards Boras' house.
Chapter Twelve
Queen Larina stared at the sword on the table, her bony hands toying with a thin braid of black hair. The heavy clump of stone feet made her turn as a Rider entered the throne room, its yellow eyes smouldering in its gargoyle face. It stopped on the other side of the table, and Larina smiled at it.
"See what I have gained, Trist! The weapon that defeated your fellows, a magical sword of immense power." Her grin widened. "The fool traded it for the stone and some silver. He thinks he will live to tell the tale. You shall feed on him today, as soon as he has led me to his masters."
"He fell for that?" the Rider rasped.
"He's a fool, a common man over endowed with brawn and lacking a brain."
"He must be."
"With this sword, you'll conquer vast new lands for me. You'll be able to kill from afar and cut your way into castles to slaughter the puny defenders." Her heart warmed with delight. "Nothing will stand in my way now! I shall become the most powerful ruler in all the land, kings and princes will kiss my feet."
The Rider bent to pick up the weapon, but the Queen slammed her hand down on it, pinning it. Trist withdrew its hand.
"Don't ever think of crossing me," she snarled. "You need me. Without me you're just a bunch of blood sucking murderers, and the people will flee your approach. I'm the reason you feed so well, and don't you forget it!"
"How can I?" the Rider grated, "I came to you with the offer of partnership, for that very reason. Why would I break our deal now?"
"Good. It's only because you obey me that the people stay. If I die this city will empty within a day, and you will be rulers of nothing."
&
nbsp; Trist nodded. "I know."
She removed her hand. "Take it then, but remember, it belongs to me, you only use it."
Trist picked up the sword, hefting it, then gripped the hilt and tried to draw it from the scabbard. The blade did not move, and the Rider pulled harder, its stone fingers crushing the leather scabbard. The Queen frowned as she watched the struggle.
"Are you so feeble that you can't draw a sword from its scabbard?"
Trist raised empty, glowing eyes. "It will not move."
"Give it to me!"
The Rider handed it to her, and she tugged at the hilt until her face reddened with exertion.
"It's you who are the fool,” Trist said. “You've been duped."
"How dare you?" she cried. "He won't get far! As soon as he leads me to the ones who sent him, I'll have him back, along with my stone and money. You think me a fool? He'll tell me the secret of this weapon before he dies, that I promise!" She flung the sword down, scowling. "When I've finished with him, you can play with him for as long as you like. No one tricks me like this and gets away with it!"
Kieran took so many precautions to ensure that he was not followed that he succeeded in getting lost. Stumbling down yet another narrow alley, he tried to get his bearings, but one street looked like another and he had no landmarks to follow. The piece of staff drained his flagging strength, and lack of sleep blurred his vision and made his eyes burn. He paused to rest, putting down the satchel, and spotted a ragged beggar limping up the street, one of the few survivors. Digging a silver coin from his purse, he offered it to the man in return for guiding him to Boras' house. The beggar helped to carry the satchel, and soon he was banging on Boras' door.
Visha opened it, and Kieran stumbled over the threshold, almost falling into her arms. He veered around her and made it to a chair before his legs gave way. Flopping down on it, he dumped the satchel on the floor. Visha's cry of amazement brought Shara and the boys running, and they were all clearly astonished to see Kieran alive, let alone in their kitchen. Visha gave instructions, and the children ran to do her bidding. Shara brought the sleeping mat and spread it in front of the fire. Jaevu went to tell his father while Chavas and Peran dragged the satchel into the corner. Kieran sagged, staring at the floor with eyes blurred by intense exhaustion. Having reached his destination, he could no longer keep them open. He ached and throbbed and his limbs seemed to be made from lead.
Visha wrestled the jewelled sword from his clammy grasp, and Shara helped her to get him onto the sleeping mat, where he stretched out, asleep in seconds. Shara unlaced his leather tunic and pulled it aside to examine the wound in his shoulder, which still oozed dark blood. She bathed it with warm water and rubbed a salve into it before bandaging it. Strangely, she could find no other wounds under his torn and bloody clothes, which puzzled her. Kieran snored gently, blissfully unaware of her attentions. As she finished her task, Boras burst in, gaping at the warrior stretched out on his floor.
"He made it!"
Visha hushed him unnecessarily, for at that moment the house could have fallen down without waking Kieran. "He's exhausted, let him sleep," she admonished.
"Did he get it?"
She gestured to the satchel in the corner. "I think so."
Boras opened the satchel, and the family gathered around to peer inside. The piece of gnarled grey stone, seamed with winking crystals and covered with lines of tiny writing, lay sombre and ancient at the bottom of the leather bag.
"He did." The merchant closed the bag and cast a look of deep admiration at the Prince.
"But he lost his magic sword," Visha said, nodding towards the jewelled blade. "He brought that one instead."
Boras' face fell. "That's bad. I warned him."
"Let's hope he didn't lead the Queen's men to us."
"I'm sure he was careful." Boras looked uncertain.
The messenger prostrated himself before the Queen. "Majesty, we followed him to the Dog's Head inn, he is there now."
"Excellent. Send for my guard captain."
Larina tapped an impatient foot while she waited for her guard captain. She had retired to freshen herself in her quarters, and her women had done their best to hide the effects of an almost sleepless night under powder and paint. The result, though not dramatic, had improved her appearance somewhat. Larina would never be a beautiful woman, and did not care. Power and wealth were all that mattered to her, beauty was for simpering fools who wished to warm a man's bed and bear his brats.
Her captain entered, his armour rattling, and bowed.
Larina ordered, "Take a company, surround the Dog's Head inn and arrest everyone in it. Bring them here to me, with my stone, my silver and my father's sword."
"At once, Majesty."
The man backed out, and Larina's eye fell on the useless magical sword. Her kick knocked the table over with a satisfying clatter and sent the sword skittering across the floor. Stalking back to her chambers, she ordered breakfast.
By the time she finished her leisurely meal, a timid lady-in-waiting announced that the soldiers had returned with prisoners. Larina hurried back to the throne room to view them. Apart from the innkeeper and his fat wife, five kitchen drudges and maids, only two wealthy travellers were prodded into the room, bowing and scraping. The Queen eyed her guard captain.
"Where are that muscle-bound moron, my stone, my money, and my sword?"
The soldier bowed. "We found no trace of them, Majesty. We searched the entire building, the stables and the grounds."
Her eyes narrowed, finding no fault with his actions. "How thorough. Yet they must be there somewhere. They couldn't have disappeared into thin air."
"My men are still searching, they will pull down the building if necessary."
"Good." Larina studied the prisoners. "One of you conspired to steal the Stone of Good Fortune from the black army's courtyard. I intend to find out who, one way or another." The wealthy travellers blustered, falling silent at the Queen's curt gesture. "I won't listen to lies. One of you sent a warrior with a magical sword, and he returned to the inn with the stone."
The innkeeper stepped forward. "Majesty, a tall man came into the inn early this morning, carrying a heavy bag."
"That's him! Brown hair, dark eyes?"
"Yes, Majesty."
"Where is he now?"
The man cringed at her tone. "He walked through the inn, straight out of the back door."
"Who saw him?"
"The kitchen staff, Majesty." The innkeeper prodded forward two gravy-stained men and a boy. "Tell her Majesty."
The men shuffled their feet and stared at the floor. "We saw such a man, Majesty. He walked through the kitchens," one said.
"Where did he go?"
The boy staggered as the cook elbowed him. "I - I saw him go down Boar's Lane, Majesty, then he disappeared."
"Imbeciles!" Larina swung away, her heavy skirts flaring. "Sacrifice the idiots who followed him at once!"
The captain bowed, stony-faced.
"Send out all the troops, and close the gates!" Larina cried. "Seal the city! I want every house, stable, brothel and pig pen searched, understand? Bring me every man who fits his description, and find my stone!"
The captain backed out, bent double, and the prisoners cowered from the Queen's ire as she swung to face them. "You will tell the news singers to spread the word! I will reward the man who brings me that thief with enough precious stones, lands and slaves to make him as rich as I am! Whoever brings me the Stone of Good Fortune will be doubly rewarded, now go!"
The prisoners fled, forgetting to back away bowing in their haste to leave the room and the livid, raging Queen. Larina flung herself onto her throne, gripping the arms with claw-like hands. The sword mocked her from the table, where the servants had replaced it after she had kicked it across the room.
"You won't escape me," she growled at it. "You're weak without your magic sword, and I'll find you." Turning to one of the immobile youths, she said, "Send for Tri
st."
When the Ghost Rider clumped into the room, Larina did not bother to look up at it. "He gave me the slip, but not for long. The city is being searched. Take your men and search the land outside. He may have already left, or he may have friends waiting outside. Bring me whoever you find."
The Rider turned and clumped out.
Boras jumped at a pounding on the door, and Visha swapped a nervous look with him as he went to open it. A thin, ragged figure squeezed inside and glanced at the sleeping warrior before turning to Boras.
"They're after him," the beggar announced. "Ransacked the Dog's Head inn, now she's offering a huge reward. The city's been sealed and they're searching everything."
Boras groaned and slumped into a chair. "I knew it."
"What are we going to do?" Visha demanded.
"I'd get rid of him if I was you," the beggar advised sagely. "If they find him here, you're in big trouble."
"We could hide him," Shara suggested.
The beggar shook his head. "They're tearing houses apart, he'll be found."
"He's managed to get this far," Boras muttered, "I can't let him down now. We'll help him to get out of the city."
"He's exhausted, he needs to rest," Shara protested.
The beggar helped himself to a piece of bread. "Getting him out of the city will be like sending him from the frying pan into the fire. The black army is out there, searching the land outside."
Boras slumped, fumbling for his pipe and tobacco. "What choice do we have? If we try to hide him, we'll all die. If we send him out there, we send him to his death."
Shara turned to the beggar. "How long before they get here?"
Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law Page 22