by CS Sealey
Emil discarded the pile of reports and the queen put down the piece of parchment she had been holding.
“I recall you telling me, Your Majesty, of an incident regarding the former mayor of Te’Roek.”
The queen sighed. “Briel Challan…yes. What of it?”
“I have been thinking. Although the man Challan hired to assassinate the Ayon general was discovered and killed, the fact remains that he still managed to carry out the deed successfully.”
The queen appeared to want to argue but Emil leaned across and rested a hand lightly on her arm. “My lady, His Highness does have a point.”
“And so do I!” Queen Sorcha insisted. “Challan went against my orders. I had to banish him! Gods know where he is now.”
“It was not him I wished to speak with, not directly, in any case. He has contacts in the underground who could be useful to our cause. Dare I say it, we may need the likes of thieves and cutthroats to aid us in overthrowing your usurper.”
There was a long silence in which Emil thought quickly. It was true that Challan had betrayed the queen’s trust but he had never acted against her. By ordering the hit on General Carter, he had delayed the Ayons’ invasion. Despite the repercussions, Challan had made a stand against the Ayon tide and Emil respected him for that.
“No, no, no,” the queen said, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all, Korrosus.”
“You said yourself that your city is no battleground. You will need the Ayons’ hold on Te’Roek to be torn apart from the roots with minimum casualties to your own people. Bring back Challan from exile and use his links! With skilled killers on your side, the Ayons will be disorientated. They could teach your people how to fight from the shadows, construct traps and who knows what else!”
“Korrosus, even if I did agree with you – which I do not – Challan left the city months ago with no indication of where he was going.”
Emil cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Aiyla could locate him.”
The queen regarded him angrily before turning back to the prince. “I do not like your suggestion. He has been banished by law. I cannot go back on my word.”
“These are desperate times,” the Tarek prince said solemnly. “I do strongly recommend you consider it, Your Majesty. What happens if our plan to smuggle our allies into Te’Roek is foiled too early? The entire city will be searched, the soldiers captured, and those housing the resistance will be put to death. We need someone to disrupt the chain of command, an expert.”
Queen Sorcha scrutinized him in silence. Emil could tell, without intruding on the queen’s thoughts, that she was trying to construct arguments against Korrosus’s suggestion. At the same time, however, she must have been considering it. Regardless of whether or not mercenaries would be able to stand against an organized army, the queen only had a few small chests of gold at her disposal. They could not afford to hire a large force of mercenaries. A handful of strategic attacks, though, might weaken the Ayons’ hold on the capital.
“And where might we find these men?” Queen Sorcha asked.
“Unsure,” Emil admitted. “In Te’Roek, we could muster the odd freelancer but no organized guilds. We will have to look further afield.”
“It will take another two or three weeks before the larger groups of soldiers arrive in Milena from across the Empire,” Korrosus said thoughtfully. “I think we have enough time to search most of the Ronnesian Empire for any individuals or factions Challan deems suitable.”
“That may be,” the queen said, standing, “but I have not yet agreed.”
“Every possible ally we can find could make the difference!” Korrosus insisted. “Master Latrett, what is your opinion?”
The shaman glanced at the queen for permission and, after she gave an exasperated hand gesture, he spoke. “Well, I agree that calling upon the services of the former mayor would be disregarding the laws upon which the empire was built.”
“Thank you!” Queen Sorcha exclaimed.
“However, these are, as you say, extraordinary circumstances. The fate of the empire could rest in the hands of these unexpected allies. We shouldn’t turn away the aid of these men if it could mean turning the tide. With Your Majesty’s permission, I will ask Aiyla to locate Challan.”
The queen sighed exasperatedly, resumed her seat, and picked up the report she had previously discarded. But no sooner had her gaze begun to move across the top line, she flung the piece of parchment back down and stood once more.
“Do what you will!” she exclaimed. “At least we will appear to be making some sort of headway.”
CHAPTER 63
Queen Sorcha, Emil and Kayte stood outside the dingy inn and looked skeptically through its open door. There had been music spilling out from its tavern hall some moments before, but now the performers had taken a break, the place seemed strangely sinister, like the rest of the city.
Caervyn was a long way south of the border of the Ronnesian Empire and, though the countries of Esgarth and Gorran had never been hostile, they had always been something of a mystery. Caervyn’s inhabitants were also notoriously apathetic toward the rest of the world and there was no indication that the news of the fall of Te’Roek had reached their ears at all. The men and women appeared to be going about their daily lives as though a war had not even begun in the north, and a city had not been lost. In that way, and only that way, did Emil envy them.
“Are you sure this is the place?” Kayte asked, turning to the shaman. “It doesn’t really seem fitting.”
“Not for a mayor of Te’Roek, no,” Emil agreed, “but it would do very well for someone wishing to keep his head down.”
They lingered a little longer in the street, but when a cart came trundling toward them, laden dangerously with stacked barrels and drawn by two grunting horses, Emil escorted the two women inside. There were a great number of men standing at the bar and in groups about the room. Many were puffing on pipes and a thin layer of smoke lingered in the rafters. Two large fireplaces at opposite ends of the room housed welcoming blazes and a number of armchairs stood in front of them, occupied by the more sober patrons.
Emil took a considerable amount of time scanning the tavern floor for Challan. Aiyla had provided them with his location, but finding him in such a packed establishment would prove challenging. They could not call out to him; despite being so far south of the Ronnesian border, they could not be sure that the queen would go unrecognized, even in her disguise, and Emil did not wish to attract unwanted attention or tempt any opportunists.
As Emil inspected the tavern hall, Kayte headed for the bar. After a moment, Sorcha followed her, drawing her shawl tighter around her face. The two of them sat down on the high stools and ordered a couple of ales. Kayte began asking questions about Challan but the barkeeper had very little information to give. After searching the tavern floor without success, Emil joined them. Queen Sorcha pushed her mug of ale across the bar for him.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I cannot imagine Briel being in a place like this. I expected him to go abroad! This is, in some ways, worse than finding him dead.”
“He was always a resourceful man…I’m sure he copes well enough.”
“I do hope you’re right. Despite his actions, he was always a loyal subject. Curse that Varren. If Challan can help us, I’ll see that he wants for nothing.”
Emil regarded her warily. “Let’s just find him first.”
“Nah, can’t say where he is,” Emil heard the barman reply to one of Kayte’s questions. “You may want to ask my boy. He’s over there with that rowdy lot, the bearded lad. Knows everyone, he does.”
“Thanks,” Kayte said and ordered another ale.
A few moments later, she and the others rose from the bar and wound their way through the patrons to the group of men the barman had indicated. They were indeed rowdy. In fact, Emil supposed half the noise in the tavern was coming from those four men alone.
�
��After that, I heard he introduced a curfew for the whole city!” one of them said and laughed. His companions joined in.
“One way to keep track of a wife, I suppose,” added another, moving to drain his mug but finding it empty. He turned to one of the company. “Hey, Des, your round!”
The man named Des grumbled a little before rising from the little table. He passed Emil, Kayte and the queen without so much as a glance. He was rank with the stench of ale and pipe smoke and Emil heard Queen Sorcha suppress a cough of disgust. Kayte took the lead and approached the table. Queen Sorcha made to follow but Emil found her arm and drew her back.
“I would prefer it if their attention remained off you for as long as possible, Your Majesty,” he muttered.
“I heartily agree.”
They watched anxiously from a safe distance as Kayte, still holding her mug of ale, stopped in front of the table. The men had moved on to another story and the first man was again laughing while trying to reach the end of his tale. It was not long, however, before his attention was drawn to Kayte.
“Well, hello there,” he said, relaxing into his chair, a grin spreading over his lightly bearded face. “What can we do for such a fine-looking young woman?”
Kayte chuckled lightly. “I was really hoping you could give me some information.”
“I’d be glad to help you in any way that I can. But, ah! I see you’ve sampled some of my father’s brew. Well, not his, of course. Still, he buys it from the best source.”
“I’m not a big drinker, it’s actually more of a bribe.”
“Oh, really? For what?”
“Perhaps for the help of a fine-looking stranger.”
The queen looked up at Emil with doubt etched across her face.
“She can look after herself,” the shaman assured her. “Just wait.”
“The name’s Teer,” the barman’s son was saying, indicating for Kayte to take the vacant chair at the table. “What might you need?”
“My uncle,” Kayte said, lowering herself into the chair. “I was supposed to meet him here, but I came later than expected and he appears to have gone.”
“And you need somewhere to stay for the night?” the barman’s son asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“Not quite, though perhaps some other time.”
“Indeed? And what might his name be? I know everyone who ever bought an ale here.”
“Oh, there he goes again,” another of the men said, rolling his eyes. “I bet a hundred pass you by when you’ve had a few!”
“I’m not a lightweight like you lot,” Teer said a little angrily. “Who was it who spent half the night under the table yesterday?”
The man grunted, folded his arms and sank back into his chair, defeated. Teer chuckled and turned back to Kayte, smiling once more.
“His name?”
“Briel Challan. He hasn’t lived here very long so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had slipped past your notice.”
“Nah,” Teer said, raising his hand. “I know him. About the same height as you, dark hair, anxious eyes.”
“Could be, yes,” Kayte said, sounding eager. She placed the ale down on the table and pushed it across to Teer. “Have you seen him this evening?”
The man grasped the handle of the mug, took a sip of the ale and then chuckled. “Yes. No offense, but he made quite a scene. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was still out back with his face in the mud.” Teer leaned across the table and raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps he’d prefer to be left alone tonight. Wouldn’t want his niece seeing him in such a state, would he?”
“Thank you,” Kayte said, standing abruptly. “Enjoy the drink.” Then without even so much as a glance back at the table, she strode away, nodded to Emil and the queen, and led the way outside.
“Hey, where you going?” Teer called after her.
“’Round the back,” Kayte said, ignoring him. “He apparently drank more than he should have.”
“Oh, gods,” the queen muttered. “What have I done to him?”
Kayte led them around the side of the building and down a well-trodden alley. It appeared that a great many horse-drawn vehicles had passed that way as there were two deep grooves in the rock-hard mud. The alley emerged onto a much larger thoroughfare further down but Kayte stopped before a pair of large wooden doors. They stood ajar and creaked loudly as she pushed one of them further open. Beyond was a small courtyard with the back end of the inn on one side and the stables directly opposite. In the center, a cart was being cleaned by a young and very dirty girl. She was using a brush to prize the more stubborn bits of dirt from the wheels and underside of the cart. As the three of them entered the courtyard, she raised her head warily and bumped it on the side of the cart. She cursed colorfully and held her head with both hands, smearing even more dirt on her already smudged face.
“Hello, there,” Kayte said kindly. “Don’t be startled, we’re just looking for someone. We were told he was here.”
“Most go in through the front,” the girl said, rubbing her head.
“Unfortunately, our friend drank a little too much ale,” Kayte explained. “He’s supposed to be around here somewhere.”
“Oh, him. He’s still here,” the girl said, wrinkling her nose. She pointed to one of the stables. “In there. Mind the floor. He’s made a mess.”
Kayte moved over to the stable box and looked inside. She sighed. Emil came up beside her and looked down into the strewn hay.
“Ah…”
“It may take a while to bring him ’round,” Kayte said, folding her arms. “I don’t suppose you could carry him? Oh – Ugh, he’ll need a bath too.”
*
It took them half an hour to return to their inn in the richer part of Caervyn. The owner was a little suspicious of the unconscious Challan, but after Kayte had explained that Challan had been attacked and would need a bath, he busied himself getting them hot water and towels. Once the tub had been brought in and the inn attendants had filled it with warm water from the kitchens, Emil was left alone to clean and dress the exile.
Kayte and the queen waited in uneasy silence in a private dining room downstairs. The queen barely ate but Kayte was too hungry to refuse her own meal. It was a long while before Emil came down to join them but he had good news: Challan had regained consciousness and appeared almost sober by the time he had been dressed and put to bed.
“He should be ready to talk to us tomorrow morning.”
“Did he know who you were?” Kayte asked, raising her eyebrows.
“After a while,” Emil said. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. He will look quite normal tomorrow.”
Indeed, the next morning, Challan was awake fairly early and spent a considerable amount of time in front of the mirror, shaving his face, combing his hair and trimming his nails. When he entered the women’s room with Emil in a clean but simple suit, there were no traces of the drunken vagrant. Spotting the queen by the fire, he swept into a low bow and did not rise until she approached him and rested a hand on his head.
“Your Majesty!” he cried, grasping her hand and laying a kiss on her fingers. “I can’t believe it’s you! This place is so ghastly, you are the first ray of sunlight I’ve seen in months!”
“Calm, Briel. This is not a social meeting. I have come to you for help.”
“Help?” the former mayor asked, stunned. “How could I help you?”
“It is a difficult situation,” the queen admitted. “I doubt you are aware of current affairs.”
“Yes, I have been ignorant of news of the war since leaving Londston.”
“Then let me fill you in,” she said. She crossed the room and sat herself in a chair, then motioned him to do likewise. Once he was seated, she continued: “Te’Roek has fallen.”
“What?”
“The Ayons have stormed the city and seized control. Menthenae and northern Kirofirth are under their jurisdiction and the south will soon follow.”
“But – but how?”
> “The king was killed,” Emil said, “and the invasion followed soon after. We had not anticipated their strength nor Varren’s power. It is he who now lords over the city and leads the Ayon Empire.”
“Though I had no option but to banish you, Briel,” Queen Sorcha said solemnly, “I find myself lacking friends with military contacts, and that is what I need. Will you help us?”
“Of course!” Challan said, though his eyes were wide and anxious. “You know I was always your most devoted servant. I never meant to injure you or betray you, I wished only to relieve you of – ”
“I know, Briel.”
“Then what kind of help do you require?”
“You hired an assassin to kill General Carter,” Emil said. “It is that sort of company we are after.”
“Mercenaries?”
“Unfortunately so,” the queen said.
“If we can find men who are skilled in guerrilla warfare,” Kayte said, “then it would greatly aid us in the liberation of Te’Roek.”
“We need your help finding a number of men from the underground who could remove as many Ayon officials as possible,” Emil explained, “and perhaps also aid us in killing Varren himself and training our soldiers to fight in a way the Ayons will not expect.”
Challan looked a little troubled at first. He put his elbows on his knees, lowered his head and sighed. Kayte glanced at Emil and, in that gaze, the shaman recognized one of her rare signs of anxiety. True, if Challan could not help them find mercenaries, they would have to go to men they did not know or trust, and that could end disastrously. With a situation as sensitive as theirs, they could not afford for anything else to go wrong.
“The man I used on Carter is now dead and he was on his own. It might take weeks to track down his friends,” Challan muttered more to himself than to the queen. “There’s a guild hall in Menthenae but they’ve probably gone to ground. There’s always Orego, but that’s unnervingly close to Leith. As far as anyone this far south…” He paused and his brow furrowed. “Of course! I have just the man for you. He is dangerous, often prone to sudden bursts of violence if he’s dealt with improperly but he’s never once backed out or failed an assignment he’s accepted.” He nodded and rose to his feet. “Get him on board and you won’t need anybody else.”