A Prince Among Killers

by S. R. Vaught; J. B. Redmond

  Aron considered asking Blath about why she didn’t like him, especially after she had saved his life and he had saved hers the night before, but the bells along the battlement began to ring. It was a quick pattern, and he couldn’t help gazing up at the nearest bell cove. “Stone Guild, coming home from a journey.”

  Dari’s brow furrowed, as did Blath’s. “There are no traveling parties due to return today,” Blath said as Iko came out of the Den door to shadow Aron. Raaf wasn’t with him, but only because the boy was likely be waiting near the stables with Tek already saddled for Aron’s mid-morning talon-back weapons training. Windblown had taken Zed on a hunt, but they weren’t due back for many days.

  “Where’s Stormbreaker?” Aron asked Iko, fighting the sudden lurch of unease that threatened what little store of energy he yet possessed for the day. “We bring news of Canus the Bandit.”

  Dari’s expression and even Blath’s mirrored Aron’s distress as Iko responded. “The High Master went to the main gate over an hour ago. He has been waiting there, watching over the horizon.”

  As if they were possessed of one mind, Dari and Blath started for the main gate and keep at the same moment Aron did, and Iko followed only a step behind. After the night of poking about darkened village doorways, checking barns and stables, questioning Stone informants, and standing down dragons, the walk seemed overly long to Aron. His breath came shorter with each step, but his curiosity and concern didn’t wane with his body.

  “Perhaps someone happened upon Canus the Bandit or his nine terrified outlaws,” he murmured, doing what he could to ignore a fierce stab of disappointment at that thought. Other than Dari’s presence, the thought of capturing the outlaw raider was the only thing that stirred Aron’s emotions to the point where he felt completely real and fully human.

  “I doubt that,” Dari said. “I can’t believe Canus would get himself captured so easily—and those nine are probably still running, and may run all the way to the shore and sea in Dyn Mab. When Stone goes after that dark-hearted monster, they’ll have to send the best at Triune.”

  “It will be whoever draws a stone on the bandit,” Blath reminded her. “Fate rules such decisions, not Lord Baldric or any of his guildsmen.”

  They reached the main keep and walked quickly through the rock passageway marking the keep’s center. In moments, they reached the courtyard, just as the main gate began to open. Aron spotted Stormbreaker coming down from the battlements, with Raaf hurrying along in his wake. Energy sparked around Stormbreaker like a thick yellow-black cloud, and thunder sounded somewhere above the castle. Raaf’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t flee or even shrink back from his pursuit.

  As Aron studied Stormbreaker’s grim expression, a new dread bloomed in his chest.

  What if these guild members had been ambushed on the road? Canus the Bandit, the Brailing Guard trying to set stores for another winter at war, or even panicked villagers thinking they were about to be attacked, not trusting Stone’s neutrality—anything was possible.

  What if it’s Zed, maimed or killed?

  Fatigue fell away from him, and Aron quickened his own pace, drawing ahead of Dari, Blath, and Iko. He reached Stormbreaker as the gate opened enough to admit a very tall brown-haired Stone Brother and his equally tall apprentice. The two rode bay geldings with leathers that looked to come from Dyn Cobb, and Aron couldn’t help noticing their appearance was so similar they might be father and son. Both of the new arrivals glanced past Aron toward Blath and Iko, and shared almost identical looks of surprise that gave way to deliberate masks of nonexpression.

  The weather brewing in Stormbreaker’s essence increased, and thunder cracked twice, then three times, seeming closer to the castle with each rumble. From the corner of his eye, Aron saw Raaf cower against Triune’s curtain wall, as if to hide from the bits of lightning lashing out from Stormbreaker’s shoulders. Aron no longer shared the boy’s fear of Stormbreaker’s displays, as he had learned that even distressed, Stormbreaker had remarkable control of his unusual mind-talent. He was only venting emotion, not preparing to strike out. Stormbreaker would never harm another living creature with his talent.

  Because he has a good heart, Aron thought as he kept his eyes on the man and boy approaching on horseback. And because Lord Baldric would put him down like a mad talon.

  As if summoned by Aron’s thoughts, Lord Baldric emerged from the keep’s archway, barreled past Stormbreaker and Aron, and shouted a greeting to the returned guildsmen. “Hasty! Terrick! Thank the Brother. We’ve had no word from the lot of you in over a year.”

  The names struck a chord in Aron’s memory, and he suddenly grasped the nature of Stormbreaker’s unrest. These were Tia Snakekiller’s traveling companions, the two who were supposed to be with Stormbreaker’s sister. Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder at Dari, who was standing post-still between Blath and Iko, worry etched across her features.

  “We’re bringing word, Lord Baldric.” Hasty’s bass voice seemed as loud as Stormbreaker’s thunder as the big gray-robed man dismounted and handed his reins to Raaf, who had finally dashed past Stormbreaker to help with the horses. “Tia Snakekiller sent us to you with her fondest regards.”

  All the lightning and thunder faded away from Triune. Aron felt Stormbreaker’s relief like the rush of a warm breeze as Lord Baldric grunted. “That’s a blatant lie, and you know it. She’d sooner send me a poison dart with my own name etched on the shaft.”

  Hasty shrugged as Terrick gave his mount over to Raaf. “She’s a Stone Sister. What do you expect, kisses and roses?”

  Lord Baldric looked faintly ill as he gestured to summon Terrick, Hasty, Stormbreaker, Aron, and Dari into the main keep. No doubt Blath and Iko would follow, but Aron knew Lord Baldric preferred they remain outside his chambers. He couldn’t stop the rumors about impropriety and side-taking generated by the presence of Sabor at Triune, but he at least made a point to minimize perceptions that they were influencing Guild decisions.

  Once they reached Lord Baldric’s rooms, he seated them around his table and poured tall, frosty glasses of raspberry water.

  Hasty took only one drink before he asked, “Sabor? Here?”

  Lord Baldric gave the Stone Brother a quick, hot glare. “Not my idea.” Somehow, he managed not to look at Dari, but he said, “They’re bound by birth-promise to Dari, here. She’s one of our sheltered, and she’s been helping us train some apprentices who have particularly strong legacies.”

  Before Hasty could even ask why in the name of the gods Lord Baldric was sheltering someone bound to Sabor protectors, Lord Baldric cut him off with a shake of the head. “I’m sorry, but that subject’s closed.”

  “Tell me about my sister,” Stormbreaker said in a soft voice that nevertheless seemed as powerful as any storm he might conjure. He sat forward in his chair, resting his arms—and his clenched fists—on the table before him.

  “She’s in the village of Finmont in Dyn Cobb,” Hasty explained, leaning away from Stormbreaker. “She’s caring for a rescue, a boy we found in Dyn Mab so grievously injured we all doubted he would survive. We intended to spend only one winter there, but Nic remained too ill to travel, and we weren’t comfortable leaving Snakekiller behind to tend him on her own. She’s strong and powerful, but hefting the weight of a grown man—an invalid—it’s quite a chore. Even after much healing and time, Nic’s better, but still unable to travel long distances.”

  Nic…

  The name echoed through Aron’s awareness, and for a moment, he completely forgot himself. Only the sudden mental grip of Dari’s mind-talents stopped his free fall in remembering the boy from his visions. He had a sensation of her shaking him, and quickly checked his own essence, concealing the colors as quickly and efficiently as he could with such a shock.

  After a moment, Aron realized that both Stormbreaker and Lord Baldric were looking at him, but Hasty and Terrick didn’t seem to notice.

  “Nic Vespa. At least he says that’s his
name.” Terrick had a grin that reminded Aron of Zed, friendly and relaxed. “I’ve had my doubts about his story, but he was in such a bad way when we came across him in the streets. Can’t blame him for not wanting to risk his people ever finding out where he’s gone.”

  “There are a fair number of Vespas in Dyn Mab.” Stormbreaker sounded almost casual, but his steady gaze at Aron carried the force of a rebuke. “Most are upstanding goodfolk, but I suppose any orchard can grow bitter fruit.”

  Aron shivered under Stormbreaker’s scrutiny, and forced his attention to cooperate enough to control the color of his legacy. The name Nic Vespa scrawled through his mind like words carved in bright colors, shades of red—yet it didn’t seem right. Terrick might have a point, that the rescued boy had lied about his name to keep himself safe from his attackers.

  Nic. He told me his name was Nic, on the other side of the Veil.

  Yet Aron knew it was possible to shade the truth, if Nic had a strong enough graal.

  Hasty made a snapping motion with both hands. “Poor Nic’s back was twisted near to broken, and he took what looked like a hammer blow to his head. Broken legs, broken arms—I’ve never seen anything like it. Whoever attacked the lad meant for him to die, and die horribly. We thought he was gone from us more than once.”

  No! Lie down! Aron twitched at the shout of his own memory, at the image of a broken boy whose spirit was trying to leave until Aron shouted at it the night the manes attacked. He had told Nic … what? To heal himself. Aron had ordered Nic to heal himself.

  Cayn’s teeth.

  Had Nic lived because Aron had used his graal to command it?

  Was that even possible?

  Aron almost lost his own control again, but caught himself at the last minute. He was beginning to shiver in earnest, and he wished he could go back to the High Master’s Den to sort out his confusion.

  Surely it wasn’t possible to use his legacy to keep someone alive. Dari would have told him if that was the case.

  But then Dari hadn’t realized it was possible for him to use his graal to command her in her Stregan form. Perhaps there were other uses of the Brailing mind-talent that she didn’t know, or perhaps, even, that the Fae had withheld from the Furies during the years of peace.

  Aron stole a quick glance at Dari, but all her attention was focused on Hasty and Terrick.

  If she knew anything like that, she would have told him.

  Of course she would have.

  If it is possible, and if I could have been there when the Guard attacked my family…

  No. That was too awful to contemplate. To think he might have had the power to keep his parents and brothers and sisters alive, with just words. Aron’s teeth chattered, and he had to press his lips together to stop the reaction.

  Stormbreaker’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed on the verge of standing and sweeping Aron out of the room when the bells started ringing again.

  Lord Baldric cursed. “Messengers. Brother preserve me, but I’d rather kill the lot of them than hear one more plea or demand to do with this infernal war.” He grumbled to himself another moment, then seemed to gather his temper but for the glowing flush in both cheeks. “No matter. The Brothers manning the keep will see to them. I’ve told them I don’t want to be bothered. Go on, Hasty.”

  Hasty was grinning at Lord Baldric, and looking both tired and happy, as if he were glad to find that some things, at least, had not changed in his long absence. For some reason, the man’s expression eased Aron’s nerves, and helped him to put aside his thoughts about his family in the interest of learning more about Nic.

  “Nic healed across the winter, in body, at least,” Hasty said. “He’s taken to fits now, though, and they leave him drowsy and weak for a day or more each time. We wintered with them in Finmont, then stayed with Snakekiller long enough to help her make a large store of nightshade wine, bruise poultices, and some elixir to reduce the fits—then we rode ahead to bring word to Triune. Snakekiller refused to employ a messenger. Said we were vulnerable enough without broadcasting our whereabouts. She’s far behind us on the road, because Nic can make only a few miles each day, even in the wagon.”

  “We’re going back to meet her,” Terrick added. “Just as soon as we’ve rested and packed milk thistle, skullcap, and valerian to make more elixir.”

  “I’ll go,” Stormbreaker said immediately, but Lord Baldric shook his head.

  “You will not. I’m sorry, Dun.” Lord Baldric’s frown conveyed genuine regret. “You’re the only High Master in the castle right now, and I need you here.”

  Dari looked relieved at this announcement, but Stormbreaker looked more rebellious than Aron had even thought possible.

  “We know her route,” Hasty told Stormbreaker. “We’ll go straight to her—and you know she’s worth a Guard regiment all by herself.”

  Stormbreaker’s arms pressed against the table so firmly his elbows trembled. “Not with a wounded, helpless boy to look after.”

  Nic’s not helpless, Aron thought, but didn’t speak the words aloud. Instinct or graal, he had no idea, but he knew that was true. Nic Vespa’s graal had a strength that reminded Aron of Dari’s mind-talents, though he had no idea if Nic knew how to use his legacy.

  “Terrick and I won’t let harm come to your sister,” Hasty said, and Aron heard the truth in Hasty’s voice.

  Stormbreaker didn’t seem convinced, but a loud round of knocking on Lord Baldric’s chamber door ended the discussion.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” came a shout from the hallway, “but this messenger will speak only to you.”

  “Who sent him?” Lord Baldric snarled, rising from his chair.

  “Thorn,” the Stone Brother in the hall answered, a little more quietly, as if fearful of the Lord Provost’s reaction. “It’s the First High Master of Thorn, Eldin Falconer.”

  If Lord Baldric had possessed a talon’s battle ring, it would have flared open like a deadly circle of poisoned daggers.

  Aron found himself standing, along with everyone else, pulse beginning to thrum in his ears. “The bells,” he stammered. “They didn’t ring right. Shouldn’t the bells have told us that someone of rank was approaching?”

  “Yes,” Stormbreaker said, his single utterance like the strike of hammer to anvil. Lightning leaked from all over his body, striking the chamber’s rock floor with little cracks and pops. Aron felt the press of Dari’s graal like a cloak over his own senses, but he didn’t fight her presence. She was only trying to protect him, he knew, and this once, he didn’t mind the protection. He had never before seen Stormbreaker look so angry—or so worried.

  “Manage yourself,” Lord Baldric ordered Stormbreaker, who didn’t seem to heed him at all. “Falconer was likely traveling under cover of disguise. There’s a war, Dun, or did you forget?”

  Stormbreaker didn’t answer, and Aron’s anxiety doubled.

  He had gotten a few glimpses of Stormbreaker’s neutral to negative feelings about Thorn in the past, but nothing—nothing—like this. Whoever this Eldin Falconer was, Stormbreaker had some unpleasant history with him.

  Lord Baldric glanced at Dari, and Aron was surprised to feel some of her energy flow away from him. He could almost see the tendril of her essence wrap around Stormbreaker, holding back the fearsome power he could wield.

  Stormbreaker startled, then turned to Dari. His voice was sharp when he spoke. “I don’t need your assistance.”

  “I say you do,” Lord Baldric countered, and that seemed to bring Stormbreaker to heel. The muscles in his shoulders bunched and flexed, but he once more turned toward the door. The weather lining his shoulders and head faded slowly away to faint black shimmers of energy.

  The damage, however, was done, as far as Aron could see. Dari looked as though she’d been slapped, or had her heart crushed by Stormbreaker’s reaction to her mental touch. Aron could feel her pain through his connection with her, and he had an urge to pound Stormbreaker into so many pieces of rain and wind. How co
uld he hurt Dari like that?

  A roiling wave of emotion rose through Aron like one of Stormbreaker’s lightning bursts, but he made himself contain it so he wouldn’t tax Dari further. Later, he told himself, glaring at Stormbreaker. Guild master or no, they would discuss how Stormbreaker treated Dari.

  Lord Baldric shifted his focus to Aron. “Your mind-talents would be extremely useful to Stone in this situation, but if you can’t contain your graal, leave now, through my side door.”

  “I can control myself, sir,” Aron said quietly, folding away his nervousness and discomfort like one of his apprentice tunics. He imagined himself tucking every bit of his emotion into a trunk like the one near his bed, and turning the lock and key. “I’m fine.”

  Lord Baldric looked next to Dari, who nodded and seemed very focused on her duties to Aron and even to Stormbreaker.

  “Well, then.” Lord Baldric seated them all at the table, then stalked toward the chamber door. “Let’s see what these bastards are up to now.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ARON

  Aron tried to work out whether or not he should stand to greet the First High Master of Thorn. It would have been proper, yet no one at the table so much as stirred in their chair, so Aron kept his seat.

  Lord Baldric jerked open his chamber door, grumbled a greeting, and admitted a tall man with Mab-blond hair turning ash at his temples. The man wore brown breeches, a brown tunic, and a brown traveler’s cloak with the hood pushed back. If it weren’t for his kinglike bearing, his dark blue eyes, and his benedets—crystalline tattoos of thorny rings in the same spots where Stormbreaker’s face boasted dark spirals—he might have succeeded in appearing nondescript and unimportant. As it was, Aron could well imagine him in cardinal robes, flashing the traditional winding silver arm bracelets associated with the Thorn Guild. He was a bit disappointed not to actually see those robes and bracelets, as he had been told the color of the cloth and the shine of the jewelry’s silver were vibrant enough to attract all the attention Stone’s gray robes sought to repel. Aron noted the deep lines at the corners of Falconer’s eyes and mouth, and realized that he might be much older than his appearance suggested.