Dark Lady's Chosen

by Gail Z. Martin

  Carroway shook his head. "This sounds like the kind of story you hear from some down-and-out drunk soldier. The kind of guy who thinks everything's a conspiracy. No one's actually seen Crevan do anything except send off a pigeon. So answer me this-why? Why would he betray the king? Why would he try to kill Kiara?"

  Paiva cocked her head to look at him. "Do you remember when we were trying to identify all of the spies? And we could never figure out who was Isencroft's man?"

  "There was one more thing Mikhail told us," Tadghe said. "The night he was arrested, he'd been doing the books up in the exchequer's office. He says he found Isencroft gold that doesn't match what's in the ledger. It was in a bag off in a corner, as if someone wanted it safe but not noticed. Mikhail wonders whether whoever framed him wanted to make sure no one else was watching the books. And the only one who had access to the exchequer's books, besides Mikhail and Zachar, was Crevan."

  "Which might explain why Crevan turned down our requests to visit Mikhail," Halik added. "The only way we got in was through those vayash morufamily connections. I happened to know that both the guards last night have vayash morukin. They went off to 'investigate suspicious noises' right before we came and left."

  Carroway ran a hand back through his hair. "I'll grant you that a pile of Isencroft gold is pretty suspicious. But why would King Donelan's spy be trying to kill Kiara?"

  "Maybe Crevan's playing a double game," Tadghe said. "I've been talking with the traders who come down through Isencroft from the Northern Sea. They said that they won't make another trip on that route until Donelan gets the divisionists under control. To hear them tell it, Isencroft's on the brink of civil war over the idea of a joint kingdom when Donelan dies."

  "That doesn't make any sense! Crevan was born in Isencroft, but Zachar told me he grew up in Margolan."

  "Suppose Crevan was loyal to Isencroft-enough so that Donelan made him his spy," Halik said. "Someone that loyal to Isencroft might not want to see the crown divided. I've heard what passes for logic among people who wrap themselves tightly in their flag," he added, dropping his voice. "If Kiara and the baby die and Jared's bastard were to take the throne, Isencroft would surely declare war. And at least for Donelan's lifetime, the crown would be secure-and independent."

  Carroway stared at Halik in horror. "We need proof," he said, his voice not altogether steady. "Kiara's on shaky ground as it is. We can't go to her with accusations like this. Eadoin's too sick to help. The lords on the Council who supported Kiara might listen to Eadoin, but who'll believe a bunch of bards? They'll say you've fabricated the whole thing to save me. And right now, we have no proof at all."

  "How do we get that proof?" Bandele asked.

  "Keep watching Crevan. But you've got to be careful. If you're right, you could be in danger if he suspects anything. And if you're wrong, he could still throw you out of the palace if you get on his bad side." Carroway shook his head. "I wish Harrtuck were here. I'd feel better knowing someone I trust is looking after Kiara."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Where is he?" Ruggs's voice was deafening, shouting next to Cam's ear. For emphasis, Ruggs grabbed a fistful of Cam's curly dark hair and thrust Cam's head into a large tub of icy water. Cam writhed, both from the struggle to breathe and from the pain of being forced to kneel on his broken leg. Ruggs kept him below the surface until pinpricks of light began to crowd out Cam's vision and his lungs ached for air. Ruggs yanked him back, and Cam gasped, his heart thudding.

  "Where's the other man?"

  "I don't know."

  Ruggs plunged Cam beneath the surface once again, holding him down so long that Cam threw up. When Ruggs pulled him up, Cam's ears were ringing and his head felt as if it would explode as darkness crowded his vision. "Next time I let you die. Where is he?"

  Camspat puke and water at Ruggs. "I passed out. When I came around, he was gone. Took my cloak pin and my last two coins. A whore-spawned thief."

  Ruggs looked at him, and Cam knew the other man was debating whether or not to finish him. Go ahead. It would be a kindness.

  "Ruggs, we've got a problem." It was Leather John's voice behind them. Cam was still pinned over the tub, with Ruggs's hand painfully gripping his hair. "The king's men got Dolancey. They mean to hang him at dawn as retribution for this one. Seems the king did get your message."

  "Dolancey was stupid. He gets what he deserves." Ruggs jerked back on Cam's hair, eliciting a groan. "How best to send Donelan my next message, I wonder? He's got your finger. Shall I send him the hand to go with it? Leave the pieces of the puzzle for him to find and reassemble?" Ruggs laughed at his own joke. "I just might-but I think Donelan's fool enough to come after you. I'm betting that he just might take this personally. Isencroft's hot-tempered king, never content to let someone else do his fighting for him. No, you're still worth something as bait." Ruggs stood, tearing his hand loose from Cam's hair.

  "I think we'll move you from where your 'thief' mysteriously disappeared," Ruggs said. "And just in case you've got any other ideas, let me give you something for the pain." Without warning, his boot lashed out, catching Cam on the side of the head and sending him into darkness.

  Images filled the darkness. The gates of Brunnfen, Cam's family's manor, stretched high against a gray sky. Never before had the walls seemed so high, or the gates so solid. But never before had Cam been shut out, with those solid doors barred behind him. Carina brought her horse next to his, and the animal snuffled in the cold. Carina was huddled in her cloak, but Cam squared his shoulders, sitting up tall on his horse. Only fourteen, he was as big as most grown men. That just might save them, now that their father had disowned them and driven them from his lands. If they were lucky, they might find an inn that would take on a healer and a hired hand, or a merc group that would accept Cam's word about his age. If not, they would be beggars.

  "Don't waste a look back." Carina's voice was quiet against the wind. Cam raised his face defiantly. His father stood on the walk above the gates, and next to him was their eldest brother, Alvior. Alvior's arms were crossed, and his face was set in a hard expression. Alvior, the one who had betrayed Carina's healing to their father, knowing what would happen.

  "You can't let them go!" It was Renn, their younger brother. Without even a cloak, the boy ran across the walkway. "Father, no! Please, no!" He ran at Lord Asmarr, but their father turned away.

  "Go away, Renn. This isn't your concern."

  "You did this! It's all your fault!" Renn threw himself at Alvior hard enough that Alvior staggered back, despite the fact that Alvior was a man of twenty and Renn was only nine years old. Renn beat against Alvior's chest with his fists, until Alvior backhanded him hard enough that the boy fell.

  "Carina! Cam! Come back!"

  Camcould hear Renn sobbing, but the guards at the gate remained expressionless, barring them from entry. Carina laid a hand on Cam's arm and used her magic to nudge their horses into motion. She said nothing, but Cam saw the tears that ran down her face. They could hear Renn calling out to them until Brunnfen disappeared on the horizon. Is she crying for Renn or for us?Cam wondered. Renn has to survive living with Father and Alvior, but we're on our own now. Goddess help us.

  Renn's voice rang in Cam's mind as he felt himself struggle out of unconsciousness. He awoke to the squeaking of rats. A cold draft filtered up through the floorboards. The room was half filled with the bales of fulled wool, and dust hung heavy in the air. Faint light illuminated the edge of the door and slipped up through the cracks between the floorboards. Soaked from his interrogation, Cam shivered. His left eye was swollen closed from where Ruggs had kicked him, and his head throbbed. Cam curled into a ball, trying to stay warm. His broken leg ached and his left hand, where Ruggs had cut off his finger, was hot and swollen. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

  I wonder how Carina's doing in Dark Haven,he thought, trying to distract himself. I don't imagine she and Jonmarc will waste time. By spring, I wouldn't be surprised if there's a baby
on the way. She's better off out of Isencroft. Jonmarc will keep her safe.

  His throat was still raw from the near-drowning, and his chest hurt from the water he'd swallowed. At least I know Rhistiart got away. Ruggs wouldn't have been so angry if they'd caught him. But will he take the message to the guards? And will anyone believe him?

  Worse, he thought, might be Rhistiart's success. Ruggs was right; Donelan had a reputation for reckless stunts in battle. They made his reputation as a fierce warrior in his youth. But that was decades ago. Cam did not want to be Ruggs's bait.

  He forced himself to sit and look around his new prison. Bales of fulled wool as high as his waist filled most of the room. Dust filled the air, floating in the faint shafts of light. Cam could smell the vile liquid the fullers used in their craft, meaning that the pits where they mixed water, manure and urine were not far away. There was only one door and no windows. Cam guessed he was imprisoned in a storage room.

  He shifted, and felt something move in his pocket. With his left hand, he dug down until he found the flint and a bit of broken steel left from Rhistiart's tools. Cam smiled as a plan began to form. He might not be able to escape, but he just might manage to alert Donelan to the danger.

  Exhausted, Cam dragged himself closer to the warmth of the baled wool and tried to find a position that was both warm and not too painful. His sleep was fitful. He dreamed of Rhosyn, the brewer's daughter. Plump, well endowed and quick with a laugh, she was everything Cam had ever hoped to find in a girl. Her father, the head of the brewers' guild, might not be noble, but he was a man of standing in the city and well-regarded. Cam had hoped to ask for her hand come springtime. In his dream, Rhosyn welcomed him with a mug of ale and a shameless kiss on the lips.

  His dreams shifted to a cold hillside. Cam watched helplessly from where he lay as the slavers torched the caravan camp. Too far away to see what became of the captives, he only knew that when the fires died and the camp was silent, Carina did not come looking for him. That meant she was among the dead-or the captives. Blood soaked his tunic from a deep sword wound. He lay on the mossy ground and waited to die.

  "There he is!"

  "I see him, but can we lift him, that's the question."

  Camdimly remembered Soterius and Harrtuck dragging him onto a makeshift travois. He awoke in a healer's hut. There had been voices in the darkness, just outside where he lay.

  "Why do you want to see him?" It was Soterius's voice, skeptical and challenging.

  "The Sisterhood sent me. The healer asked for our help. Stand aside, if you want your friend to live."

  Camrecalled an outline of a woman in the doorway, her face lost in shadow. "Hail, Cam of Cairnrach," the stranger said. "What you seek is almost within your grasp." She'd healed him then, with a touch as powerful as Carina's. When the Sister finished, Cam was exhausted, but the pain was gone and a thin pink scar replaced the gaping sword wound.

  "Our Sisters told us that you and your twin might seek our help," the woman said. Her face was shadowed beneath her cowl. "We have the elixir you've been searching for."

  "Will it heal Donelan?"

  "Nothing will heal him until the mage who sent the sickness is destroyed. But the elixir will give him the strength to endure, although it will not be pleasant."

  "The slavers took my twin, Carina. They've got Tris Drayke, too. I have to go after them."

  "Choose, Cam of Cairnrach. You cannot save them all."

  "I've never failed her."

  "Then keep your oath to your king and you will not fail her now."

  Later, he'd heard Soterius and Harrtuck in a shouting match with the Sister just outside his doorway. "Like hell. We're going after them." It was Soterius's voice, and he was as angry as Cam had ever heard him.

  "The battle is already decided. We've felt it in the currents of magic. Your friend's power is greater than we imagined. He has tamed the spirits of the Ruune Vidaya. You will do best by meeting them in Principality."

  "Lady, they're not going to Principality," Harrtuck argued. "They're going to Dhasson."

  "Martris Drayke can't reach Dhasson alive. The border has been spelled against him. He will go to Principality. You can rejoin him if you leave now."

  "And if we don't?"

  "The runes were cast. You will die, and Tris Drayke may not regain the throne."

  New voices intruded on Cam's dreams. Angry voices, arguing just outside his prison. Groggy, he dragged himself to sit. The voices belonged to Leather John and Ruggs.

  "We've got to move. We've stayed in one place too long," Leather John argued. "Maybe you relish a fight against the king's guard, but I don't."

  "We stay until I say differently. No one knows we're here."

  "No one except the thief who escaped."

  "You worry about a pickpocket? He's long gone by now. What's he going to tell anyone? And who would believe him?"

  "I don't like it."

  "I'm not asking you to like it. I'm telling you to do it."

  "And what about Donelan?"

  "If we're right and Donelan rides out with the troops next time, we'll have some surprises waiting for him. Curane's man sent gold-Isencroft gold-enough to buy all the weapons we need. There's only one way into this mill, and that's through that valley out there and across the bridge. If they come in after us, we can pick them off from the hillsides. If they try to make a stand on the flatland beyond the valley, we can attack from the forest. The old witch who gave me the spelled dagger assured me that it would fly true and deadly to the person I named in the curse. And if the witch's blood magic doesn't work, well, I have some other ideas on how to kill a king."

  "I don't like this. We joined up with you to save Isencroft, not to kill Donelan."

  "Donelan's betrayed you. He's sold Isencroft's future to the Margolenses. The princess is whoring her birthright and her claim to the throne. How many times has Margolan tried to invade Isencroft? Three? Six? A dozen? And every time, our people drove them back. Now Donelan wants to hand the crown over to them without a whimper. And for that, he deserves to die."

  They moved off, and Cam could no longer make out their words. His hand reached into his pocket, reassuring himself that the flint and steel were still there. He looked at the dry bales of wool around him. He might not be in any shape to fight, but starting fires was something he'd always been good at. For now, he'd bide his time. And then, Cam decided, he would do Donelan one final service.

  Day 4

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jonmarc Vahanian set out for Wolvenskorn as soon as the sun was bright in the early morning sky. He guessed by the looks the villagers chanced in his direction that they were as happy to see him leave as he was to go. Jonmarc was ready to move on. There was work to be done.

  The snow was deep and the road lay untouched. Alongside the road was the forest, a dark, silent presence even in the daylight. Jonmarc squinted as the sun glistened off the snow. Just off the road, near the forest's edge, the snow had been disturbed. Even at a distance he could see dark shapes lying still and the broader stain of blood.

  Warily, he rode closer. Three large wolves lay dead in the snow. No, not wolves. Vyrkin. The animals' staring, violet eyes made that plain. He cursed as he swung down from his horse, sword drawn. It was clear from the snow that there had been quite a fight. It was equally clear, Jonmarc thought with disgust, that whoever had done this had been hunting vyrkin. The nearest body was shot through the heart with a crossbow quarrel and stabbed through the belly as well. He frowned as he knelt beside the other two bodies. In their necks, nearly hidden by the thick fur, were darts. The vyrkinhad been drugged, stabbed and eviscerated.

  A whimper drew his attention. He looked up, and saw a fourth wolf lying further away in the snow. Drugged like the others, this one was still alive, although from the snow beneath it, Jonmarc could see the vyrkinhad lost a lot of blood. Blood matted its dark gray fur, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of its mouth. The vyrkinraised its head, opening i
ts eyes, and Jonmarc was startled by the pattern of its markings. Yestin.

  Jonmarc took a blanket from his saddlebags and gentled the injured vyrkinonto it. He did the best he could with rags torn from a shirt in his bags to bind up the wolf's wounds, then he drew out the dart and tossed it far from them into the snow. Carefully, he lifted the vyrkininto his arms, not surprised to find that it was as heavy as a man. As gently as he could, he secured it behind his saddle. He met the wolf's eyes.

  "Looks like you ran into some trouble," he said, not sure Yestin could hear him. The wolf blinked, and Jonmarc took that as a sign.

  "I'm sorry about your friends. I'll get you back to Wolvenskorn, and your shaman can patch you up. Hang on. It'll be slow going in this snow."

  The wolf-Yestin closed his eyes and slumped. Jonmarc wasn't sure whether the wolf was resigned to the pain of travel or whether Yestin had lost consciousness.

  Just as he led his horse back to the road, he saw a group of six men emerging from the forest. He slipped his sword hand behind his cloak to conceal his drawn blade. The men were armed with bows and the man in front carried a sword and wore a collection of daggers in the baldric across his chest. But what drew Jonmarc's attention and fueled his rage was the man's wolf-pelt cloak.

  "Making off with our prize?" The lead man shouted as the group neared. Their weapons were raised, and Jonmarc had no doubt they were spoiling for a fight.

  "You have no business here. Put down your weapons and go home."

  The man with the wolf cloak gave a bitter laugh. "Who do you think you are? Lord Vahanian?"