by CS Sealey
“What’s wrong?” Cassios asked, noticing his silence.
“Are the people really so desperate, so weak, that their loyalty to Queen Sorcha could be swayed with words alone?”
“Varren’s a magician, right?” Cassios said, shrugging. “How do we know he wasn’t using some kind of spell?”
“You heard him. Queen Sorcha did postpone replying to Samian’s proposal while sending reinforcements to the northern border. And the king did die in the castle and he was treated badly during his imprisonment.”
“Neither of us could have changed any of that, Rasmus.”
“But Tiderius said the queen wished to return Samian at once! It was Emil and Markus who convinced her that it was too late.”
“Then the queen has been given very bad advice. In one thing, at least, Varren has been correct, though I hate to say it. She thought she was acting in our best interests but, instead, she has condemned us.”
“Don’t say that,” Rasmus said, though he felt the pang of truth. “Had she returned Samian straight away, the Ayons would have attacked regardless.”
“Perhaps. We can never know.”
Rasmus looked at his friend as they continued to walk down the alleyway to the back door of their new residence. Rasmus had found his own flat occupied by Ayon soldiers after the siege and been unable to retrieve any of his belongings. Like Cassios, who had also found his home ransacked, he doubted he would ever regain them. But they both retained their most important possessions – their swords and armor.
“What else did your brother hear from Aiyla?” Cassios asked, turning a corner and entering another alley.
“Nothing more than orders from the queen and General Kaster. It looks like Tiderius and Angora will remain alone here for a while.”
“Against five Ayon mages and most of their army, that’s little comfort.”
They were standing in front of a dingy door with rusted hinges and a doorknob that did not function from the outside. Nothing distinguished this door from the others that led onto the alleyway, but most citizens of Te’Roek knew where the whorehouses were, either by frequenting them or being told to stay away. This den of pleasure, run by a slightly eccentric former courtesan named Lila Leshaid, was now the headquarters of a fragmented resistance group. Led by the Auran brothers and a handful of surviving captains from the Ronnesian army, including Cassios Avric, they had begun to spread their influence the moment the fighting ceased in the streets. There were simply too many Ayons in the city to fight them openly. Employing guerrilla tactics was the only way.
Rasmus knocked four times on the door, once, then four times again. There was a pause and then the door opened, creaking on its hinges. The shadowy figure of an old woman stood there, hunched over and leaning heavily on a short cane. Behind the figure was a dim passageway with many doorways leading off into small rooms, and a narrow, rickety staircase.
“Back already, sirs?” she asked, stepping aside.
“He was short but deadly,” Cassios muttered as he entered, wiping his boots on the coarse rug just inside the door. “Have we any new recruits, Lila?”
“Not since you left, sir,” the woman said, shutting the door and bolting it. “But if his speech was as poisonous as that, sirs, then I suppose we’ll either have an influx of newcomers or a sudden departure of men already signed up.”
“Gods, I hope it’s the former, Lila,” Rasmus said, heading up the stairs. “How are the supplies?”
“They’re holding up. We were able to buy enough for all the men when they arrive for the meeting tomorrow. We’re still storing grain in the cellar, but as far as luxuries, absolutely nothing.”
“Damn, I could do with an ale,” Cassios muttered.
“The Ayons are keeping the taverns open.”
“I’m not drinking alongside those murderers,” he said and spat.
“Hey, not in my house, thank you!” Lila exclaimed, hitting the infantry captain around the back of his leg with her cane. “Ladies still live here!”
The two men reached the third floor and let themselves into what had once been the most exotic of the pleasure rooms. Once, the drab wooden walls had been covered with rich red and purple curtains and a large four-poster bed had sat on an exquisitely decorated rug in the center of the room. Cushions had been scattered across the floor and sweet-smelling candles burned in candelabra, drowning the senses with perfume. Now there were only bare walls and floors with as many tables, chairs and benches as could fit. Barrels and sacks lined the walls and the candles gave off only the scent of burning wax. Since the invasion, many of the pleasure women had fled the city, fearing abuse from the Ayon soldiers. Lila Leshaid’s establishment gave shelter to girls who had nowhere else to go, as well as rebels.
“So the tyrant gave quite a speech, then?” Lila asked, as she hobbled into the mess.
“We’re losing them,” Cassios muttered, slouching over a pitcher of water. “The people were applauding him. It’s as if they’ve forgotten who they are.”
“Ah, don’t you worry about the fools who’d do anything to save their own skins,” she said, patting both men on the back. “They’ll come ’round once your plan takes flight.”
“But what if they don’t? We can’t afford to let Varren take hold of their hearts and minds as well as their houses and stomachs. They need to be shown his evils, and soon!”
A loud thud sounded from the floor above along with a few surprised shrieks. Lila became suddenly agile and tore across the room to the landing. She craned her neck around the bannister. “Girls, what’s the matter?”
“Something huge just crashed onto the roof!” replied a voice, shaking with fear.
“It’s moving!” another girl shrieked, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. “It’s coming toward the stairs!”
Rasmus rose from his chair and went out onto the landing. Lila was looking anxious and ready to use her cane but Rasmus sighed. He climbed the stairs to the top floor, walked to the end of the narrow corridor and pulled a chair toward him. Tiderius had placed it there, ready for his return home, but he must have forgotten to tell Lila and the girls that he and Angora would not be entering through the back door like everybody else. Anxious faces peered from each of the seven attic rooms. Standing on the cushioned chair, which had seen better days, Rasmus reached up and released the bolts on the trapdoor in the roof.
“Nothing to fear, ladies,” he said, smiling. “Just my little brother.”
There was a shuffling sound, then the trapdoor above Rasmus’s head was wrenched open and weak, late-afternoon sunlight poured in through the slanted roof. Rasmus hopped down from the chair and drew it back against the wall. A pair of legs appeared and then Tiderius jumped down and gave his brother a pat on the back.
“All go well?” Rasmus asked.
“We can talk about that downstairs.” Tiderius turned and looked back up through the door. “Right, all clear.”
“If you would be so kind as to look the other way,” Angora said testily, peering through the open trapdoor. “I said turn away, Tiderius! I can lock the door myself.”
Rasmus glanced at his brother, who winked. Groaning, he grabbed Tiderius’s arm and turned him around, letting Angora drop carefully down into the space they had just vacated. Once safely inside, she drew the chair over, clambered up onto the cushion, stood on the tips of her toes and pulled the door shut with a bang.
“Nice ankles,” Tiderius said, grinning as he turned back.
“Insufferable cretin.”
“I was just kidding!”
“What was that sound?” the closest girl asked from her doorway, anxiously gripping the framework.
“You would not believe me if I told you,” Angora said, purposely bumping into Tiderius as she passed him.
The three of them ignored all the questions from the girls and Lila and headed to the mess, where Cassios was still sitting with his drink. Tiderius and Angora poured themselves mugs of water before taking their places at
the end of a long table.
“Well, it’s good that Aiyla gave us our orders when she did. Another few hours and they would have been discovered,” Tiderius said. “The fleet had almost reached Kaledros and the Ayons have sentries and guard posts covering all the major roads and headlands around that area now. We managed to see Commander Mainar, but he wasn’t altogether enthusiastic about the situation. He had expected to reinforce our own soldiers on the plains, not to help us retake our capital city.”
“But without their help, we have little chance of succeeding,” Cassios said solemnly. “What of the Tareks?”
“Their plans have been changed. Once they set sail from Milena, they will land in Tensiles and await further orders, depending on our situation here.”
“Then our plans are relatively secure for now?” Rasmus asked. “That is some small comfort. But you didn’t hear Varren’s speech this afternoon. It was…devastating.”
“The people didn’t like him, then?”
“Oh, no, Tiderius,” Rasmus said, shaking his head. “They applauded him.”
“What?”
“Then he must have told them the truth,” Angora said quietly.
“The truth?” Tiderius asked.
“He has gained support for himself and his occupation by putting down his rival,” she explained. “Like it or not, Queen Sorcha has hidden more from the people than she has revealed, and telling them the facts is one way of gaining their trust. At this very moment, thousands of people will be questioning her, even the most loyal of her subjects.” She looked at Rasmus gravely. “Am I right?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then the people must now know that I – that King Samian died by my hand. Varren surely would not have left that out.”
“But this is ridiculous!” Tiderius exclaimed. “How could they believe him?”
“Sometimes, the truth is more powerful than any spell.”
There was a long, solemn silence. Angora rose from the bench and, grimacing a little, stretched her arms wide. Rasmus turned to look at her and noticed that Tiderius was doing the same thing. It was no secret that Tiderius and Angora were in some sort of relationship. For the past month, Tiderius had been sneaking kisses on Angora’s cheeks and neck when he thought nobody was watching. But, of course, who was he to complain? He had never told her his feelings and they had scarcely seen each other since they first met, while Tiderius had been in her company almost every day.
Yet Rasmus still felt that something was not right. Angora did not have the glow that possessed a woman in love. She did not smile when she met Tiderius’s gaze but shifted her eyes away almost as though she was ashamed. She never returned his kisses, never even seemed to enjoy them. In fact, as the days passed, she seemed to look even more sorrowful, an expression he suspected had nothing to do with the Ayon invasion.
Angora withdrew from the room, leaving her water untouched. Rasmus strained his ears and heard her light footsteps going up the stairs, across the landing and to her bedroom at the end of the corridor. Taking his chance, he drained his mug and left the room, muttering to Cassios to recount Varren’s speech to Tiderius in greater detail.
As Rasmus reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the attic landing, he spotted Angora standing in the doorway to her room. As he was about to speak her name, he saw her cover her face with her hands and suppress a sob. Shocked, he took a step toward her but she heard the light footfall and turned, hastily wiping a hand across her eyes and sniffing.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Angora forced a weak smile to her lips. “Of course. What have I to be unhappy about? Our situation could not be better.”
Rasmus chuckled halfheartedly. “Why are you crying?”
“I am not crying.”
“You know you can’t lie to me,” he said.
She sniffed again and turned into her room. Rasmus followed her tentatively and closed the door behind him. Angora sat down on the edge of her bed, crossed her legs and looked up at the roof. She released a shaky sigh.
“I am keeping something from everybody…”
Rasmus’s brow creased slightly. “What is it?” he asked. He drew out a chair from beneath a crude dresser and placed it in front of the bed. He sat and put his elbows on his knees, giving her his full attention. “And I know about you and my brother, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“I should not be surprised, I suppose.”
“But that’s not what you’re hiding, is it?”
She shook her head. “I-I do not know why I am telling you first. I suppose it just feels better this way. You are the one I trust the most.” She paused, swallowed, then looked at him solemnly. “I am expecting a child.”
Rasmus felt his mouth drop a little in disbelief and his skin prickle. Angora looked at him sadly.
“That’s…good news,” he said at last, forcing a smile to his lips. “I’m happy for you both.”
“A child – here, Rasmus…” Angora said, shaking her head. “It is the worst possible moment, the worst possible place.”
“How far gone are you?”
Angora absently rested a hand on her stomach but, when Rasmus looked, he could not see much difference of size. Then again, she was wearing a few layers.
“Some weeks.”
“Then it’s not – ”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Not the king’s. He probably thought I was barren for all the times he tried…But I am getting worried that I will not be able to help you regain the city. With every month that passes, it will become harder for me.”
“Should you really be flying around, even now?”
“Probably not, no, but it is necessary.” Angora looked at him a little sadly. “I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“You – you are not angry with me?”
“I could never be angry with you, Angora,” Rasmus said. No, only with myself. “You know you can ask anything of me. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’m happy, truly. I’m going to be an uncle! This news almost makes me forget Varren’s speech today, and that’s saying something!”
Angora regarded him sadly. “You cannot lie to me either.”
Her eyes dropped to her stomach. The look on her face prevented him from responding. He had the feeling that she was, once again, holding something back. But whether it was great or small, good or bad, he could not even begin to guess. And she had been right – he did not feel very happy at all.
CHAPTER 62
Good news had been hard to come by ever since the Ayons had successfully taken Te’Roek. The Tareks seemed to take longer than expected to mobilize and commence their march to Milena.
“If we don’t push the Ayons from Kirofirth, they will only get stronger and their influence will spread,” King Dallus had declared to his council. “We will send as many men as we can afford and pray it will be enough with our combined forces.”
“But we cannot leave our own borders vulnerable!” one of the councilmen had argued. “As much as we value our alliance with the Ronnesians, we must not forget about our own people, our own lands!”
“Yes, we do value our alliance,” the king had said forcefully. “Which of you would wish them to stand by were we under the heel of the Ayon consul? We have been allies and trading partners for centuries. This is the moment we prove ourselves friends as well. We will send them however many men they need to take back what is theirs!”
The number of men King Dallus was suggesting they send was more than their ships could carry, so couriers had been dispatched to ask every coastal village and town to send their largest ships north to the Cape of Milena. Reports were trickling in from every corner of the Tarek Empire, sending a dozen soldiers here, and two dozen volunteers and a small fishing vessel there.
But things were progressing too slowly for Emil’s liking. Aiyla still received dismal updates from Te’Roek through her communications with Tiderius and Angora – Varren’s hold
on the people was growing ever stronger and the resistance was too small to pose much of a threat. Citizens were being evicted from their homes to accommodate Ayon soldiers or sent to trial for crimes against the state. According to what Tiderius had told Aiyla, there had been twenty-seven executions in the space of six weeks. However, the arrival of the southern regiment reinforcements in Castlemaine Strait was reassuring. The men on board the ships were being smuggled ashore in the dead of night, disguised as merchants and tradesmen, and then making the journey to Te’Roek on foot or in small carts. Hopefully, they would be able to get past the Ayon guards at the main gates and make it safely into the city, where they would be met by the Auran brothers and Cassios Avric. Their weapons would be carefully concealed in carts under bundles of hay or in sacks of grain. It was a plan that had been developed by Prince Korrosus and his father. Emil, who had risked only two journeys back to Te’Roek in the last six weeks and knew little about the finer tactics of warfare, could only hope that Tiderius and his brother knew what they were doing.
As the shaman thumbed through the individual reports from across the Tarek Empire, making sure they had not missed any figures, Prince Korrosus entered the queen’s sitting room and bowed. The queen looked up from a report Emil had given her to review and shook her head.
“I thought we were beyond all this, Korrosus,” she said, the smallest hint of a smile on her lips.
“Never,” the prince said, approaching her table. “Besides, you are a queen and I am but the son of a king.”
“A great and wise king. I gather that, by the spring in your step, the healers have pronounced you completely recovered?”
“Quite, quite. Master Emil,” Korrosus said, turning to the shaman, “I’m glad you’re here.” He sat down on the sofa opposite the queen and leaned forward. “I have had an idea that might help our little situation.”