Tales of King's Blades 02 - Lord of The Fire Lands

by Dave Duncan

  briefly at Wasp as if to judge what he was

  thinking, then said, "I told you, the last I saw

  of my beloved cousin, he was heading for the

  Cweornstanas. What did he do--walk on

  water?"

  "Never heard anything about that." The thegn

  screwed up his face in thought. "And if he

  looked any cleaner than usual, I was too

  upset about you to notice. Don't recall seeing

  him at your funeral, but Cynewulf swore him

  in as tanist very soon after. Two days maybe."

  "And how many ambitious thegns have challenged

  dear Wulfie?"

  Aylwin looked more abashed than ever. "Give

  him his due, Radgar. If you believe the tanist

  should be the shire's best fighter--and lots do ...

  I don't say we don't have one or two that could

  beat him. ... He's nobody's pushover."

  "He would be for me."

  His friend blinked. "Truly?"

  "Guaranteed. And Wasp here could take him with

  both feet in one boot. Couldn't you, Wasp?"

  Wasp said nothing.

  Aylwin belched luxuriously. "Challenge

  is usually done with swords, but incumbent gets

  choice of weapons. How would your little cniht friend

  do with axes? Or bare hands?"

  "Ah! Forgot that." Radgar grinned

  ruefully. "Not well."

  Aylwin emptied his stein and wiped his mouth with a

  tattered sleeve. "Your cousin isn't

  married. He's sired a few thrall-born, but

  no usable heirs--wise of him, maybe? He and

  his father are the last of the Catterings, and when they go

  Catterstow may never produce another king of

  Baelmark again."

  Wasp slid his untouched tankard across to the

  Bael and took the empty one. He was torn.

  At times he could see the sailor as Radgar's

  childhood friend and appreciate his good

  qualities--loyalty, probably tenacity, a

  certain na@ivet`e, eagerness to please. His

  bovine manner was affectation, the pose of the

  warrior who regards thinking as unmanly.

  Despite the width of his neck, he had brains

  above it, although his interests would always be

  practical, never philosophical, and he would

  value courage well ahead of moral insight.

  He was sorely in need of a bath, but he had

  probably been working like a mule for days. He was

  not unlike Bullwhip, in fact--dull but

  utterly reliable.

  Without warning the view would make a bewildering

  shift and leave Wasp looking at an animal.

  Loyalty became ruthlessness, tenacity greed, and

  that eagerness to please just rank ambition. How many

  rapes, thefts, and murders had this ape committed?

  If asked, would he deny them or brag of them?

  Worse, Wasp could see Radgar's fascination

  --there but for the grace of Ironhall went the son

  of Aeled. He wanted to scream a warning, and he

  knew that any word from him would only increase the

  danger.

  Radgar was obviously making adjustments to the

  conclusions of five years' brooding. "I

  underestimated Healfwer's skills. He must have

  proofed Wulfwer against water just as well as he

  proofed me against fire. Maybe the brute did

  walk home! How often do I have to kill him?"

  The serving maid strolled meaningfully across the

  yard to flick a cloth over another table and

  Radgar nodded to her to refill the steins.

  "Tell me again," Aylwin growled,

  "exactly what happened that night."

  "Someone killed my parents, bolted me in my

  bedroom, and set the house on fire."

  "My dad was marshal," Aylwin said with enough

  menace to raise Wasp's hackles. "You're

  saying he let a murderer in?"

  Radgar flashed his most appealing grin.

  "Looking at all those expensive

  muscles of yours, old friend, I would never say

  anything so suicidal. I think I can narrow it

  down to four people. One was Swetmann, or someone in

  his war party. It was too late to stop the peace

  treaty, but he was ambitious and he must have known that

  the witan would never back him against Dad. I

  don't have a clue how he could have got past the

  guards."

  "No strangers got past my dad!"

  "Then how about Wulfwer? His bootlickers were

  ready to swear he never left the hall. Did they

  return too--Hengest and Frecful?"

  "Haven't seen them in years." Aylwin

  scratched his scalp busily. "Don't recall

  any scandal or accusations. Someone must have paid off

  their families."

  "Cynewulf, I'm sure. But Wulfwer's

  an excellent suspect, because he hated me and

  he knew which was my room. We were sure to be

  rivals when I got older--why let me get

  older? He got to be tanist, so he gained from

  Dad's death too."

  "We can ask my dad if Wulfwer went in.

  Who's next?"

  "Good King Cynewulf. He escorted my

  mother and me home, so we know he was in there. He

  gained more than anyone--he got to be king."

  "He also ..." Aylwin said and stopped.

  "Also what?"

  "Later. Who's the fourth?"

  "Good King Ambrose."

  "Not personally, I hope?" Aylwin said

  skeptically.

  "Not personally," Radgar agreed.

  At that moment the serving maid returned with

  three foaming steins. The thegn lifted the one

  Wasp had given him and drained it in one

  incredibly long draft, his throat working like a

  smith's bellows. The others watched in

  fascinated disbelief. He hardly seemed short

  of breath when he finished and handed the empty

  tankard to the girl. She fluttered her lashes

  at him and he awarded her a smile and a slap on

  the rump. Her obvious approval of this form of

  approval made Wasp wonder if it would work for

  him or if it required conjured muscles.

  "Then how?" Aylwin inquired. "Ambrose?"

  "He sent a Blade along with the embassy,

  although I suspect he'd promised not to--and a

  Blade who was very close to him, who used

  the name Geste. The Blades had a score

  to settle with my father. Have you heard anything about such

  a man?"

  "No." Aylwin's former menace was back.

  "Just how do you say a Chivian would have gotten

  in?"

  "He may have had ways."

  "Such as precisely?"

  Radgar looked to Wasp to see if he wanted

  to comment, but Wasp was as much in the dark as Aylwin.

  "Invisibility."

  "Whale shit." Aylwin took another drink.

  "I think I agree," Wasp said.

  "Possibly." This time Radgar spoke

  to Wasp. "The night before Wolfbiter was bound,

  I had a long chat with Snake and picked up

  all the court gossip. There's a rumor going

  around that the college has perfected an

  invisibility cloak. Granted, even if they have

  one now they may not have had it five years ago.

  But there was something very odd about the
way Yorick

  crept up on us in the coaster that night. He

  appeared on deck almost as if he-- Well, no

  matter. Just say that Ambrose has access to very

  powerful conjurements. If anyone could have smuggled

  an assassin past the house thegns it would be the

  King of Chivial, yes? I can't see what his

  motive would be except personal spite, which is

  not usually a reason for a triple murder. Why

  include me in it? Kings usually like having

  relatives among foreign royalty. But those are

  the suspects--Swetmann and the Bloods as my

  father called them, Wulfwer, Cynewulf, or

  Sir Yorick with the connivance of his King."

  "I'm really glad you're alive, Radgar

  Aeleding."

  "Thank you, Aylwin Leofricing."

  "There's something I must tell you. You've got

  one thing very wrong about that night. Wench! More beer!"

  "Have mine." Again Wasp pushed his stein over.

  The thegn spared him another brief look of

  contempt and again drained the tankard in a single

  draft. He seemed to have unlimited capacity.

  "What did I get wrong?" Radgar

  demanded.

  Somewhere--it seemed to Wasp--a hunting horn

  played a warning call, as if danger

  approached. It was only a hunch, of course, but

  he sprang to his feet an instant before a

  swordsman strode into the yard.

  From his silver-buckled boots all the way up

  to the white plume in his hat, he was an imposing

  figure, and two of the establishment's male

  flunkies came fawning in his wake. The hilt

  of his sword was gilded and bejeweled--from the look

  of the scabbard it was a falchion, a broad blade

  with a sharp taper at the end, possibly handy enough in

  a shipboard melee but not long enough to pose much

  threat to a good rapier man. The silver eyepatch

  bearing a sizable emerald identified him

  instantly as Aylwin's father, Ship Lord

  Leofric, formerly King Aeled's best friend and

  marshal. He came marching toward his son with a

  disapproving frown that only deepened when his glance

  took in Wasp.

  "What are you doing in here? I told you to--"

  Radgar turned around on his stool.

  "Aeled!"

  "Remember me, "uncle"?"

  "Radgar! Oh, Radgar! Atheling!" The big

  man started to fold down on his knees. His

  sailor's tan showed like paint over his pallor,

  and his one eye seemed ready to jump right out of his

  head. Before he could kneel, Radgar leaped up and

  caught his arms, pulling him into a hug.

  The hunting horns trilled again, and now Wasp

  could hear the baying of hounds as well. Either

  Leofric was the traitor who had opened the door

  to the assassins--although just looking at the man made

  that seem beyond belief--or he was the best advisor

  and helper Radgar could have, his father's most trusted

  confidant. If he seemed a threat, it was because

  he would try to lure Radgar home. Friends were more

  dangerous than enemies at the moment.

  Aylwin glared at the waiters. "Wine!" he

  shouted. "Red wine for the ship lord! And three more

  beers."

  Radgar reluctantly let Leofric kiss

  his hand and tell him several times how like his father he

  looked. The big man did not know whether to laugh

  or weep with joy. He could not possibly be

  faking that emotion!

  Then they all pulled up stools and Radgar

  told his story all over again. The ship lord sat

  in rocky stillness, staring at him fixedly, showing

  no reaction whatsoever. Aylwin had sunk

  into smiling, beery bliss. At the end

  of the tale, when Wasp was explained, Leofric

  nodded acknowledgment. Unlike his son, he

  approved of a Blade.

  "It sounds as if you had no need of binding

  to make you loyal to your friend, Sir Wasp. You

  may have your work cut out for you in future, I

  fear."

  Wasp bristled. "Will you be more specific,

  please, ealdor?"

  The older man took his first sip of wine.

  "Political ambition in my homeland has

  become a dangerous business. I will quote you

  cases later, Sir Wasp." The blue eye and

  green jewel turned to Radgar again. "You're

  taller, slimmer. But astonishingly like Aeled!"

  "I am a lesser man all 'round, uncle."

  Leofric shook his head. "Not "uncle"

  now, Atheling. Please call me thegn, for I

  dearly crave to be your man as I was your father's.

  I was never entirely convinced that his death was an

  accident and now your tale brings back my grief

  tenfold. I shall know no peace until we have

  avenged my lord and friend and put you on the throne of

  your ancestors."

  "Well said!" Aylwin proclaimed, somewhat

  loudly. "This sou'westerly keeps up, we can

  make lan'fall in four days."

  "Three!"

  Radgar was shaking his head. "I am not ready for

  such talk, ealdor. No, let me call you

  that, for you must be my wita as you were my father's.

  Continue your foering to Skyrria. I beg

  you. If you have room for a couple of green hands,

  then I should be grateful, although neither of us will pull

  his weight. You can drop us off here when you return

  and pick us up on your next voyage, perhaps."

  Seeing protest brewing, he became insistent.

  "I have been entombed these last five and half

  years, ealdor! I need to get some living in

  before I show my face in Baelmark. I am young.

  There is time."

  No. Closer came the danger--horns,

  hounds, drumming of hooves. ...

  Bright spears of sunlight lanced from the silver

  eye patch. "You do not have that luxury, lad.

  Four people were mourned after that fire--four in that

  house, I mean, for it spread and claimed other

  lives. Two of the dead were house thegns, who

  refused my orders and forced their way by me. It was

  a hopeless quest, because if the

  Hlaford Fyrlandum had not survived, then

  what could mere men do? But you know the code of a

  house thegn."

  "Four?" Radgar had become very still.

  The single eye glinted. "Aye, lad. The

  other two were you and your father. We thought he'd gone

  to save you. The heat was so intense after the house

  collapsed that we found hardly a bone."

  Aylwin trumpeted another fanfare belch.

  "Your mom escaped. Unharmed. She's still

  alive."

  That was it--the danger Wasp had sensed

  approaching. The hunt had closed on its prey,

  slobbering jaws and flashing swords. ...

  Radgar made several attempts before he

  managed to speak. "Where is she?"

  Father and son exchanged glances. Aylwin said,

  "In Catterstow. She's still queen. She married

  your uncle."

  When Wasp could stand the silence no longer he

  said, "Can you think of any reason why dear

  Ambrose did
n't mention this to you, Radgar? He

  must know. She is still his cousin."

  YORICK

  VII

  That was a good question. The air was full of good

  questions, but four days passed before Wasp received

  answers to even one of them. By then

  Faro`edhengest had entered the sheltered

  lagoons of Swi@thaefen through the Leaxmu`ed

  narrows. The blue-green sail with its white

  horse emblem hung limp in a dead calm, and

  he could lean back against the side and enjoy watching

  sixty Baels streaming sweat while they heaved

  on oars and bellowed out lewd rowing songs.

  They did not bother him now as much as they had at

  first. He had come to think of them as just dangerous

  animals--wolves or wild boars. No

  matter that his eyes told him they were men, no

  better or worse, no more clean or filthy,

  crass or cultured, than could be expected of

  any other gang of healthy, mostly young,

  sailors confined in an open boat. Even knowing that

  they were all well-disposed toward his ward, he still

  felt only contempt for them as people. The

  contempt was mutual. Leofric had warned the

  whole werod that the Chivian cniht was a

  Blade and any roughhousing with Radgar Atheling

  might trigger fatal reactions. He had made

  Wasp sound like a poorly trained guard dog.

  Fishing boats sat on reflected hills and

  islets; green slopes bearing farms and

  villages swept back to wooded hills. It was

  an idyllic scene, but over it brooded the

  smoking peak of Cwicnoll--white against a sky

  of perfect blue, whose only cloud was the one over

  the mountain itself. Before dawn it had glowed red; by day

  it was almost too white to look upon. Periodically

  it rumbled.

  In an hour or so Radgar would be reunited with

  his mother, and that idyll was overhung by worse

  dangers than a mere volcano. Just by being

  alive, and even more by being married to King

  Cynewulf, she changed the battlefield. Would

  she push her son forward as heir apparent under the

  crazy Baelish rules of succession? The

  sinister Cousin Wulfwer was alive, too.

  Radgar still protested that he had no royal

  ambitions, but even Wasp found that hard

  to believe. His friends and his family and his father's

  killers must all have plans for his future--or

  lack of one.

  But had the assassin been a Bael?

  Ambrose had known more than he should or less

  than he should. He had let slip that odd remark

  about a missing atheling. If he had sent Yorick