Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3)

by Richard Crawford

  "Shut up." Pressed between them, Edouard struggled to turn. Fury lent him strength to shove the giant off as Angelo asked.

  "What is this latest news?"

  With de Nortial laughing at his back, he caught Angelo's arm hustling him forward. "This is not the place. Come back to the palace and I will tell you everything." After a moment's resistance, Angelo moved with him. De Nortial tracked their steps.

  Edouard ignored him. There was no way to mend the harm done, and if a fight developed, he was too drunk to stop it. Whatever Angelo knew of de Nortial, he would not back down. Faced with disaster, thick headed with drink, Edouard could think of no better plan than to stay close to Angelo and get back to the palace quickly.

  The walk through the city became a nightmare. Angelo ignored him. De Nortial muscled close. He used every narrowed entrance and alley to impose his threatening presence. Determined not to allow the spark that would ignite trouble, Edouard ran interference. He put himself between every barged shoulder and jabbing elbow, rebounding between the two of them until his head spun. As they crossed the river and sighted the palace walls, he sighed with relief. Angelo glanced sideways; the look on his face made Edouard wince. Suddenly the palace did not seem such a haven.

  They reached the huge bronze gates and came to a halt before the guard's challenge. Once inside the gates, Edouard turned from the wide sweep of the formal drive to follow paved paths between stables and barracks. The route took De Nortial and the knights out of their way, but they followed. Desperate to be free of them, he turned again, into the intricate maze of cloistered walkways. Still de Nortial followed. Deep among the palace buildings torches flickered on the low vaulted ceilings and honey pale stone. Something about the quiet prickled his nerves.

  It did not last. Somewhere behind them a woman laughed. He forgot Angelo and de Nortial. He stopped. Someone walked into him and cursed in drunken good humor. Edouard pushed the man away and started towards the sound of a woman's laugh. It was followed by a snatch of low voiced conversation. He reached the corner and came to a halt.

  He could see her now. The length of the cloistered walk away, her hand was on the corsair's arm, and she pressed intimately close. They were laughing together. He was certain she was laughing at him.

  "Edouard?"

  He started as Angelo caught his arm. He pulled away from his grip, still watching. She was closer now. In a moment, she would see him. He stepped forward.

  ####

  Breathless with laughter, Mariette clung to Roslaire's arm. After an evening of comedy at the theater, he had kept her laughing and distracted through the return walk, recounting the court's most scurrilous gossip. The pleasure of an evening's distraction, made her light headed. He dissected the court wickedly, and she was delighted by every barbed comment.

  They turned to follow a wide cloistered pathway. Ahead, lanterns lit pale stone arches. A cluster of shadow resolved into a group of young men in court dress. She recognized the towering bulk of Sieur Gaspard de Nortial and lost all inclination to laughter. Her step faltered as a slender figure in dark velvet stepped from the shadows. Edouard.

  She cursed the ill luck of such a meeting and scanned the knights gathered beyond him, though she knew well enough the stamp of his latest cronies. Only the unexpected presence of Sieur Angelo offered any reassurance. At her side, Roslaire seemed relaxed, but she was not fooled. All the men were armed.

  She walked on, drawing Roslaire with her. Edouard stood waiting. Three strides and they were almost level. He bowed, a mockery, but one she could bear. Her fingers locked tight on Roslaire's wrist as she acknowledged Edouard's bow and kept walking. He did not move. For a heartbeat, she thought they might be allowed to pass unhindered. Then de Nortial made a whispered comment. Suddenly Edouard was blocking their path.

  There was no sidestepping that predatory speed. Jerked to a halt, she clung to Roslaire's arm to keep her balance.

  "My lady." Edouard bowed again. "I trust the night brings you pleasure." He gave the words an unusual stress.

  She ignored him and glanced to Sieur Angelo, who stood silent at Edouard's shoulder. He was her only hope. There were many dangers here, but she knew the greatest threat fell on Roslaire.

  "And, of course, not only the night." Edouard grin was provocative. "There are surely many other pleasures the lady does enjoy."

  If it fell far short of wit, the insult struck closer to the mark. She glanced again to Sieur Angelo, a brief appeal, and spoke quickly to forestall Roslaire. "Edouard, surely it would have been more graceful to retire?"

  "From your path or from court?"

  "Either, both." Despite good sense, she felt the first shiver of anger.

  "To slink away disgraced?"

  "If the King has dealt harshly with an innocent request, your retaliation does nothing but prove his point." She met his gaze, no longer caring what it might provoke. Let him show her the truth.

  "You think I should take it lightly, to be treated with such unwarranted contempt?" The words were double edged.

  "Does behavior that warrants such contempt improve the situation? Does it serve any purpose but to shame your father and family?" She saw by Sieur Angelo's face that he had no idea the exchange held a dangerous double meaning. She played that slender chance. "Does your father even know?"

  "If you speak of Ferdinand's actions, what business is that of yours?"

  "Thankfully none. Though surely it is not something you can hope to conceal? Your father will hear soon enough, there are always people eager enough to share such news."

  "What news, Edouard?" Angelo's question echoed in the sudden silence.

  In the moment of distraction, Mariette tightened her grip on Roslaire's arm, but her step forward was blocked. Edouard smiled with mocking sweetness.

  "Don't leave. You were exposing my failings and offering advice, pray finish, don't leave the job half done. There must be some other way I displeased you."

  It was an opening she was too angry to refuse. "Your conscience is your own. Choose your course and deal with the consequences."

  "Ah, another sudden change of heart. Your fickle turns are too quick for me." He turned to Roslaire. "And you, sir, are you confident of the lady's whim?"

  Roslaire met the challenge blank faced. "In my presence, you will treat the lady with due honor."

  Edouard laughed. "Perfect, the lady's honor is defended by a pirate, could anything be more fitting..." Before he could continue, Angelo caught his arm.

  "Edouard, enough."

  "You've changed your tune." Edouard snarled, shaking free of his hold. "And no, it's not nearly enough."

  Are you insane, do you want this to end badly?"

  "It is none of your business, Angel. Piss take your honorable notions, you don't even know what you meddling with."

  "If you want my support, tell me."

  "Have I asked for your support?"

  "No, but unless you give me good reason I will not stand by and watch you shame Chamfort."

  For a moment, Angelo's words silenced Edouard. Mariette began to think it might be all right, but then Gaspard de Nortial moved, faster than she could have believed. He caught Sieur Angelo by the arm and pushed him away. "You would choose to stand against him. What makes you think he wouldn't like those odds?"

  The giant's casual shove sent Angelo stumbling backward. He fetched up against Roslaire, regaining his balance with an athlete's reflex. His gaze flicked over de Nortial, but he spoke to Edouard. "Do you?"

  She watched Edouard. They all stood waiting on his answer. In the courtyard, the other knights had fallen silent. A trill of laughter came from a window overhead. Edouard glanced up and then took one silky, threatening pace forward. Behind him, de Nortial crowded close, his face blank with anticipation. As Edouard stayed silent, Angelo moved to stand in front of Roslaire.

  "Well, Edouard, is this how you find your pleasure now, insulting women and fighting your friends?" he asked.

  She realized Edouard
was very drunk, too drunk to master himself completely. Drunk enough to betray himself. He returned Angelo's angry stare, but she saw the fleeting look of doubt. It passed from his face quickly but lingered in his eyes. Mariette felt no sympathy if she caused their friendship to be tested. He already betrayed his friends and family, it was better they knew the truth.

  It was Roslaire who broke the moment. He placed a hand on Sieur Angelo's arm, urging him to stand down.

  "I do not have any quarrel with you, Lord Edouard. If you feel there is a matter to be settled between us, I will meet you at a more convenient time and place." Roslaire glanced to Sieur Angelo. "I see no need to drag others into this?"

  He faced Edouard, holding his gaze but without making it a challenge. It was skillfully done. Mariette watched; choked breathless by the risk he was taking. The silence lengthened as the tableau held. Edouard dropped his gaze first. He shook his head. "Your pardon. My brother says sour wine always begets sour temper. I am grateful for your forbearance." He bowed and turned away, pushing past de Nortial, and ignoring the giant's hissed comment.

  The knights drifted after him until only Sieur Angelo remained. He fidgeted, suddenly awkward. "My apologies, my lady, I don't know what possessed him."

  "You have no need to apologize."

  He bowed and left them. Alone with Roslaire, she moved closer. "Thank you."

  He did not answer. His sideways glance told her nothing. He took her arm, and she fell into step at this side. They walked quickly along the cloistered walkways, as they turned a corner she was glad to find the way ahead empty. Relief passed, replaced by a rush of furious reaction and anger.

  "He dares to pretend injured innocence. The gall of it after when he has..." Words failed her as a measure of good sense returned. "Can you believe his arrogance, to play such games with me? Well, I will see he pays." She noticed Roslaire's silence. "I thank you for defending me, but I don't want you involved, Roslaire."

  She glanced sideways. Roslaire's shadowed profile gave no clue to his thoughts. Almost running to keep pace, she shook his arm, suddenly afraid. "I will deal with it, Roslaire. Tell me you will not seek him out."

  "Your boy is quite safe from me, sweet Duchess."

  "My concern is not for him."

  "What is your game then?"

  "I don't play games. I don't want you involved in a fight with Edouard de Chamfort." She glanced sideways as he laughed. "You realize he is probably the best swordsman in Valderon?"

  "It is considerate of you to be concerned for my welfare. But just now he was wearing a sword, and you felt the best course was to provoke him in front of his friends?"

  "What are you saying?"

  "I know you like games, but this one is not to my taste."

  "I don't play games."

  "No, then what was the purpose of that little scene. The outcome was easy enough to predict. Whatever your intention, Lord Edouard has already been humiliated by you, Mariette. His behavior is not so surprising, nor is it surprising that it would anger him to be lectured." He took her arm. "What is surprising is that he was man enough to stand down. I find I may quite like your boy after all."

  "Damn you, Roslaire, must you be so contrary." Fear made her sharp.

  "If you will play these games, sweet Duchess, you must endure the consequences."

  "If I acted to influence the outcome of that nasty scene, it was with good cause."

  "My lady, you chose to twist a tiger's tail without care for who would face the reckoning. Should I be pleased to be your stalking horse?" He was angry, she realized.

  In a way, he was right. But what could she say when every defense was bound to break faith with a sworn oath, or insult him. "It was no game. What sort fool do you take me for?"

  He came to a halt and turned to fix her with a sharp gaze. "You're saying there is more to this than you have told me?"

  She hesitated; caught again by the part she played. "Is it so hard to believe I have no taste for games like that?"

  "The boy is still in love with you, Mariette." He was watching her intently now. "You know it very well."

  She spun away, but he still gripped her arm pulling her back. She did not resist.

  "It's not your concern, Roslaire."

  "Not my concern." He pondered the words. "If you have something against the boy that is between you, but do not make me part of your games."

  "It is not a game."

  "So you protest, but foul rumor, the kind you detest so much, suggests otherwise. Little birds twitter, they claim that you tumbled the boy from your bed but days before you welcomed me to it and that the first he knew of it was to find himself the butt of court gossip. Nastier yet, some wonder what news you gave Lord Edouard in the moments before his disastrous interview with our liege." He shrugged. "Tell me what he has done to anger you."

  "I can't," she said, watching him and suddenly afraid.

  They had reached her rooms. At the door, he bowed and turned away. "Good evening, Duchess Mariette."

  "Roslaire, wait."

  He halted but did not turn back.

  "Please, Roslaire, this is not as it seems." She moved a step towards him. "Be careful in your dealings with Edouard de Chamfort."

  He turned to face her, golden curls glinting in the flickering light. He shrugged. "Sweet Duchess, I will stay clear of your boy, he will come to no harm from me."

  Mariette fought the urge to slap him. "Damn you," she snarled, no longer patient enough to care if she offended him. "Take heed, Roslaire, he is dangerous."

  His smile was mocking. "He's not the only one."

  Her anger faded, replaced by fear. She had acted without thought, never imagining to stir up such a hornet's nest of injured pride. Roslaire had misjudged her motives, and the result risked more than damaged pride for both of them.

  "If I have angered you, at least promise you will heed my warning about Edouard. Meddle in this and you face danger far beyond his skill as a swordsman."

  "Come, Mariette, enough cryptic hints, you must tell me more if you wish to convince."

  "I cannot do so without betraying an oath," she said. He stared at her in silence. Seeing she had at least given him pause, she said, "Come inside, and I will tell you as much as I can."

  "An offer notoriously hard to resist."

  "Please, Roslaire."

  He followed as she crossed the threshold. Inside, a fire burned bright and lamps lit the darkness. Shivering, she went to the fire, throwing off her cloak. She watched as he poured wine and accepted the glass he brought to her. He chose a chair and sat. Candlelight glinted off his curls, but his gray eyes were cold. He sat in silence, waiting.

  Under that measuring gaze, she knew only the truth would serve. But it was not easily told. "You will have heard how Hugo died?" His eyes betrayed a moment's surprise, but he nodded without comment. "And no doubt you will have heard the rumors. His murder blamed on family treachery and civil unrest. The true horror has never been told." The words choked her, but she could not turn back from this now. "I believe Hugo's death was part of a greater plan, the opening moves in a threat to the throne. A threat driven by dark sorcery and murder." She watched his face for a sign.

  Roslaire met her words with silence. Unable to read his expression, she was forced to continue. She had learned to dissemble, but it was hard to keep her voice even. "For months the villages west of Montmercy had suffered attacks. Every time Hugo and his men arrived too late. Each village was brutally destroyed, the people slaughtered. It was terrible and worse for Hugo as he had failed to protect them. When word came, the raiders had returned he gathered his men and rode out at once.

  "They were too late to save the village. Yet again they found only death and destruction. But this time it was different, the raiders had not left. They were waiting close by." Mariette struggled to master the rush of grief and regret, the pitiless memories, and visions prompted by the words. "Hugo rode alone from the village, and they struck him down. It was quick and brutal.
His men could not reach him in time. When the murder was done the raiders vanished, not one Hugo's men was hurt."

  For a moment, the crackle of the fire was the only sound. Her throat ached with the effort as she spoke again. "At first, his death seemed but ill chance, but then we met others who had experienced this horror. We studied the raids on other villages and other unexplained murders of influential men. Over time, we have come to believe that it was more. These attacks cannot be explained as the work of outlaws and robbers. This evil has a plan. I believe the raiders waited that day with the intention of achieving Hugo's death. It was a message. He is not the only powerful man who has stood in their path and died.

  "I have set myself to find the truth, and to unmask an evil that threatens everything. There are powerful men behind this, and so we protect ourselves by moving in secret where we can. If, as you accuse, I play games, they are not undertaken lightly."

  Roslaire's gaze was still unreadable. Tired and raw, she finished. "There are others who believe as I do. I cannot give you their names or tell you more, without their permission."

  "And Edouard de Chamfort, is he one of these powerful men?" His voice betrayed skepticism.

  "He is under suspicion. It may be he knows something of this evil."

  "So you seduced him to discover more?" Roslaire tipped the glass and downed his wine.

  He had worked it out frighteningly quickly. She saw the danger, but only the truth would serve. "Yes."

  "And you found proof. You will go to the King, see him arraigned?" he asked. She hesitated for a second. It was too long. Roslaire stood up. "And what of the others, what of me? What part do we play in your game?"

  "Please, Roslaire. Maybe I have played a part. But not to indulge in a courtier's whim, much as it might seem so now."

  "Then go to the King. Let him deal with it."

  "It is not so simple. I do not have the proof, and there is too much at stake. And so much I can't yet explain, but please trust me. This is not something to meddle in carelessly."

  He set his wineglass down and turned away. She had miscalculated, and her failure would leave him in danger. The thought terrified her. On top of that, she would lose a valuable ally. She went after him.