Exile (The Nandor Tales Book 1)

by Martin Owton

  “Good morning, good morning. Did you sleep well?” he said to Aron who hiccuped in reply. “I’ve news you’ll want to hear. Tirellan’s back.”

  “Where?”

  “Here, in the city,” replied Lionel. Aron hiccuped again.

  “Let me get you something for that.” Lionel turned and left the room.

  “Tirellan. He’s your enemy isn’t he?” said Maldwyn. “Let me aid you in this. Let me pay back some of the debt I owe by hunting him down for you.”

  “No, Maldwyn,” said Aron. “I will take my revenge on Tirellan first hand. This is a matter of blood.”

  The dramatic effect of this statement was somewhat diluted when Aron hiccuped violently at the end. Maldwyn looked disappointed and ready to argue the point, but Lionel returned with a cup of liquid which he passed to Aron.

  “What is it?” asked Aron between hiccups.

  “It’s just a little honey in warm water; my grandmother swore by it. Just drink it slowly and in a few minutes you’ll be fine.”

  Aron looked dubiously at the cup and then took a sip. “Excuse me Maldwyn, but I must speak with Lionel. When we’re done, I’ll find some practice blades and we can resume your tuition if you wish,” he said.

  Maldwyn and Davo took the hint and left.

  “Tell me about Tirellan,” Aron said and then took another sip.

  “He came back a few days ago; we believe he was in Caldon.”

  “How is it that he is allowed to be here? Isn’t he still under the sentence of exile?”

  “In the public face of things, yes,” said Lionel. “But in private, he is Caldon’s envoy and is allowed to freely come and go.”

  “But Caldon is still in rebellion against the High King and his servants are supposed to be seized and imprisoned wherever they are found.”

  “Again that is the public face of it, but in private the High King is negotiating with Caldon. According to Kyria, His Majesty has no greater wish than to see the kingdom healed.”

  “Leaving Darien in Caldon’s grip,” said Aron, his fists clenched. “I thought the King prided himself on being a just man.”

  “He does,” replied Lionel. “But he sees this as a price he is willing to pay to bring peace, and that peace he desires more than anything. More than that, there’s a new king in Peresia, who seems to want to reopen their claim to the southlands. His Majesty needs all his nobles behind him.”

  Aron sat in silent thought a moment before he spoke. “How long has the King been talking to Caldon?”

  “Tirellan first arrived nearly a year ago. He has been back to Caldon several times. We believe they are close to agreement.”

  “Fool! It will cost him his throne. He should confront Caldon while he still can. Otherwise Caldon will pick off his allies one by one just as he did with us until he’s too strong. There are reasons aplenty to kill Tirellan; this is but one more. But it must be soon.”

  “We’ve been trying since he first appeared in the city and got nowhere. He’s always surrounded by half an army of guards and has the devil’s own slyness. Our hand cannot be detected in it, otherwise we would forfeit any sympathy the King holds for us, and he has made continuous war on us. Did Tamon tell you of what happened to the house in Cooper’s Lane?”

  “Aye.” Aron nodded grimly. “There must be some way to get to him.”

  “He rarely steps outside his mansion, and when he does he’s surrounded by at least a dozen guards. He’s protected against sorcery too. Kyria’s wizard probed him for us and he’s shielded. Caldon’s wizard may have set him up with a talisman-based shield, but seems more likely that he’s been dabbling himself.”

  “Really. What’s the evidence?”

  “Coopers Lane for one thing. Why would the place go up like an oil store? There was a big pulse of magical energy around the time the fire started. Every wizard felt it, but no-one recognised it. It could have been him.”

  “That just makes it all the more important that we get to get to him as soon as possible. Have you any ideas?”

  “There’s one possibility.” Lionel paused.

  Aron eyed him suspiciously. “What is it?”

  “Lord Tirellan has enjoyed the pleasures the city offers,” Lionel said, picking his words carefully. “And we have discovered he has certain tastes that he has indulged whilst he’s been here.” Aron looked at him even more suspiciously.

  “Go on.”

  “He has a taste for young men. He likes to beat them and then take his pleasure with them. It’s rumoured that he’s killed more than one. He dismisses his servants and guards on the nights when he does this.”

  “That sounds like an invitation to visit him.”

  “We thought so. A group of us went over the back wall the last time.”

  “What happened?”

  “We didn’t get past the dogs.”

  “Poisoned meat takes care of them.”

  “Not these dogs.” Lionel shivered at the memory. “Man high with glowing eyes and jaws dripping fire.”

  “Hellhounds?”

  “We didn’t stop to find out. But there’s no way past them without using powerful magic and that just exposes whoever helps us.” Lionel paused. “There is another way though.”

  “Which is?” said Aron, his suspicions dark as a thundercloud.

  “There is a procurer in the city who supplies the boys. He pays in gold. There are people poor enough to take the risk,” said Lionel, turning his head so that he did not meet Aron’s eye. “The procurer has been persuaded to assist us.”

  “Are you suggesting that I offer myself as a prostitute for this man to supply to Tirellan?”

  The disgust thickened Aron’s voice so that he almost spat the words out.

  “It’s the only way I can see to get close to him. He likes them dark and slender like you,” Lionel said and turned back to face him. “How much do you want to kill him?”

  Aron sat in silence for a while turning the proposal over in his mind. At last he reached his decision. “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Have you news for us, Theobald?” Nicoras asked eagerly as he and Ezrin entered the guard commander’s room.

  Theobald smiled and indicated they should sit down.

  “Certainly there is some news, and some that will be to your liking, I believe.” Theobald’s attention moved to the tray on his desk; he lifted the lid of one of the cloth-wrapped jugs and inhaled the aroma. “Would you like a cup? I have peppermint or raspberry.”

  “No thank you,” said Nicoras. “Now what news have you?”

  “Patience, Nicoras,” chided Theobald. “Would you like a cup, Master Ezrin?”

  “Ah yes, thank you,” said the wizard as if surprised that he had been asked.

  Theobald poured for himself and Ezrin as Nicoras fidgeted irritably. Finally he spoke.

  “News then. The king is expected back the day after tomorrow, but our lord will not be returning with him, so you have a little more time, gentlemen. His Grace is at present visiting the Duke of Westport, and it is not yet known when he will return. I doubt he has received your message yet as the courier bringing this news crossed with the one bearing yours.”

  “How long do you think we may have?” asked Nicoras.

  “Another two days before His Grace receives the message and then it depends on his business in Westport. At least a week, I should think.”

  “Hmm,” Nicoras frowned. “Tell Theobald what you’ve found, Ezrin.”

  “Maldwyn of Nandor is in the city. He is staying in a house with a group of people he thinks of as the exiles. Their leader is called Lionel, and they are friends of Aron of Darien. He doesn’t know where the house is because he arrived there in the dark and he hasn’t left it.”

  Nicoras looked at Theobald inquisitively. “What do you make of it?”

  “Almost certainly they are the exiles of Darien and they are trouble. There has been a nic
e little war on the streets of the city between them and the Duke of Caldon.” Theobald poured himself another cup. “They’re a wild crowd. You certainly pick them, Nicoras.”

  “Do you know where this house might be?”

  “No, I don’t. You weren’t thinking of charging in there, were you?” Theobald looked sternly at Nicoras. “I would advise most strongly against it… it will certainly be heavily defended.”

  Nicoras frowned and stared into his cup for a moment. “Do you have any news of Earl Baldwin?”

  “Ah yes,” Theobald said. “Earl Baldwin and his family have taken rooms at an inn called The Seven Stars, and what is more, have been seen in the company of Lord Tirellan. I thought that might interest you.”

  “We’ll set a watch on The Seven Stars immediately, but what’s especially interesting about Lord Tirellan?” said Nicoras.

  “You’ve not heard of him? That does surprise me. I thought his reputation had spread far and wide. Not a man to get on the wrong side of, and he just happens to be the Duke of Caldon’s pet wolf.”

  “What’s Caldon got to do with this?”

  “Nothing, I hope. His Grace would be deeply displeased if this affair tangled him in Caldon’s nets.”

  “So why is Baldwin associating with Tirellan?”

  “Who can say? It is just possible that Baldwin doesn’t realise who and what Tirellan is.” Theobald smiled in amusement. “I wonder what the Darien exiles are going to make of this news?”

  ***

  “The fish are rising nicely, Cristoff,” said Lord Tirellan as he read the last of the four message scrolls that had arrived that morning. “The Earl of Dunmore invites me to dine and play cards. The Peresian ambassador invites me to luncheon; now I wonder what he wants to talk about? Lord Calshot invites me to hunt his estate with him and the Duke of Norrish bids me to a ball. Do you suppose the Lady Celaine can play cards, Cristoff?”

  “I would suppose she can play beggar-my-neighbour and other such nursery games,” replied Cristoff with a snigger. “Though I wouldn’t play against Lady Alice for more than pennies.”

  “A beautiful and clever woman,” said Tirellan. “And dangerous. Fortunately she is harnessed to that buffoon, which limits her power.”

  “You know, Petter. I thought you were exaggerating how awful Earl Baldwin is. I can see now you were merely being polite. I mean, the man was roaring drunk. I had to endure his interminable ravings about his land dispute for the whole night.”

  “Come now Cristoff, you exaggerate. I distinctly recall he fell asleep before midnight.”

  “Well perhaps, but it seemed like the whole evening. How do you wish for me to answer these?” He indicated the message scrolls.

  “Accept Dunmore, Norrish and the Peresian ambassador, stall Lord Calshot. I don’t wish to leave the city just now, there will be other replies coming and Calshot’s estate is too far away for anything less than eight days absence.”

  “Will you be escorting Lady Celaine to the Ball?”

  “I suppose I will need a suitable lady on my arm. Can you think of some way of ensuring that her father cannot attend, short of poisoning him?”

  “No, my Lord,” said Cristoff. “It is the sworn duty of a knight to bear fortitude with a good grace.”

  “You have such a wonderfully sympathetic character, Cristoff. Have you considered becoming a priest?”

  “Frequently. But then I would have to spend the rest of my days praying for the redemption of your soul, my Lord.”

  “A more worthy use of your time I could not conceive of,” Tirellan said with a broad grin. “Has there been any news of those Darien scum?”

  “None at all. They seem to have gone to earth completely. I’m confident they’ll turn up soon though. You know how the city is; you can’t keep anything secret for long. There was a very good wager fight at the Silver Moon a few nights ago.”

  “Oh really. A shame we missed that, who was it?”

  “You remember Kovac; big, shavenheaded right-handed swordsman. He did his usual trick of picking out some innocent punter and got stuck with someone who could really fight.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  “It was a classic by all accounts. The punter drew him on, toyed with him for a while then skewered him. Just your style, Petter.”

  “And who was this punter?”

  “No-one knows for sure, but someone thought he looked like that Darien assassin we had so much trouble with about eighteen months ago.”

  “Really?” Tirellan reacted sharply. “If there is any chance at all that it’s him, then I want him found.”

  “I’ve already put the word out, my Lord.”

  “Hmm. Shame about Kovac, he used to put on a good show. Good swordsman, but always likely to underestimate an opponent. Have you heard anything from Bazarkis the procurer?”

  “Yes. He says he may have something that will interest you, though the price will need to be higher.”

  “It costs what it costs, Cristoff,” sighed Tirellan. “I need something to look forward to.”

  ***

  “I don’t trust him and I don’t like him,” said Lady Alice with some force. “I know he’s well-connected and that just makes me more suspicious. And there’s something wrong with the way he looks at me and the girls.”

  “He seems a perfectly decent kind of a fellow to me. Even if he does prefer dancing to hunting,” replied Earl Baldwin. “How’s the fellow supposed to look at you then?”

  Lady Alice paused for a moment, searching for the words Baldwin would understand. “With respectful interest.”

  “What’s that then?”

  “The way you would look at a horse you were thinking of buying, or a good hound that belongs to a friend.”

  “Hmm,” Earl Baldwin snorted. “Is it not enough for you that he’s a nobleman with lands and substance, and he’s interested in our daughter?”

  “But why is he interested in Celaine?” Lady Alice fixed her husband with a hard stare. “She’s young and beautiful, but that’s all. You know we offer no great wealth or alliance, and that hasn’t been enough for a dozen men far less eligible than Tirellan. She’s been disappointed too many times already, and I don’t want to see it happen again.”

  “Why does it matter? Tirellan’s a rich and powerful man with wide influence. He’ll be an excellent ally for Nandor. He can arrange an audience for me with the High King. What more do you want?” Earl Baldwin drained his glass and then lifted the jug to see if any wine remained. “Dammit, this jug’s empty, call the maid to fetch me another.”

  Lady Alice rose to tug the bellrope that would summon the maid. She wanted to say no; that Baldwin had already drunk two jugs and it was only mid-afternoon, but she knew it would do no good to start an argument now. She wanted to say that Celaine deserved to be more than a dynastic pawn, deserved a husband who would love her and treat her well. She tugged the bellrope and sat down in silence. It was an old argument and there was no point in restarting it.

  “Lord Tirellan sent around the name of a dressmaker with his invitation. Celaine will need a dress for the ball,” Lady Alice said mildly.

  “More blasted expense,” grumbled Baldwin. “Do I look as if I’m made of money?”

  “For a man like Lord Tirellan, it is essential that his escort reflects well on him. You said yourself that he is a man of wide influence, who moves in the finest circles. Celaine simply cannot be shown up. It would reflect badly on his Lordship, and it would reflect badly on us. Come to that, I shall need a dress myself.”

  “Why?” Baldwin looked disconsolately into the bottom of his glass.

  “You don’t imagine that Celaine is going alone to the ball with Lord Tirellan! That would be most unseemly, and don’t tell me you’ll be keeping an eye on her because I know what you’ll be doing.” Lady Alice regarded her husband sternly. “You’ll be talking to anyone that will listen about the iniquities of Sarazan, and boring th
em to death most likely.”

  “I er, well. Try not to spend too much then.” Earl Baldwin knew when he was beaten. “Where’s that blasted maid got to?”

  ***

  “I’m bored,” declared Maldwyn.

  “So’m I,” replied Davo. They were sitting in the afternoon sun with their backs to a wall, on a balcony overlooking the inner courtyard of the Exiles’ house where a few of the exiles were aimlessly kicking a ball of rags about.

  “It’s all right for Aron. They’re all his friends and I’m sure they’ve got lots to catch up on, but I don’t know anyone and there’s nothing to do.”

  “I agree,” Davo said mournfully. “No one wants to play dice with me no more, an’ I caught up on the sleep I lost getting here. I wanna go an’ ‘ave a look around the city.”

  He idly flipped a lump of moss down onto the head of one of the footballers.

  “Exactly,” said Maldwyn. “The greatest city in the kingdom right outside the door and we’re shut in like naughty children. All my life I’ve listened to stories about the wonders of the Holy City. I want to see them. I was hoping Aron would show me, but he hardly has time for us now.”

  “Reckon we slip out an’ have a look around. We’ll keep our eyes peeled for Sarazan’s men, but they won’t try nothing. There’s too many people around for that an’ besides, we’re armed.”

  “How will we get back in?” Maldwyn scratched at the back of his neck.

  “Don’t worry about that, my Lord.” Davo grinned slyly. “Most of the guards are good lads an’ owe me a bit o’money.”

  ***

  “He’s on the move at last, Captain,” Ezrin said as Nicoras entered his room. “He’s going to look around the city with the little thief. Aron of Darien is not with them.”

  “Where are they?” Nicoras asked sharply.

  “He doesn’t know,” replied Ezrin, gazing into his viewing crystal once more. “He’s walking past a timber yard; there are good houses on the other side of the street. The exiles’ base seems to be close to a lot of woodworking workshops.”