The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1)

by Peace, Cas

  Chapter Thirty

  Levant returned to his private rooms after bidding farewell to the people’s delegation. As a whole, the meeting went well. The hotheads were less inclined to accuse him without the mob behind them. He had answered all their questions and assuaged their fears. He sent them away to report to the city before the hour grew too late.

  Vassa awaited him in his living room, sitting by the fire and sipping brandy, deep in thought. When Levant came in, Vassa rose and handed him a crystal tumbler of amber liquor. Levant took a healthy swallow before collapsing into the chair opposite Vassa.

  “I could have done without that.”

  “Did you satisfy them?”

  Levant shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. They’d whipped themselves up over nothing. You know what crowds are like. Once they calmed down they were ready to see reason. I just hope nothing else happens to set them alight. We’re woefully shorthanded after losing Denny and his company.”

  Levant eyed Vassa, seeing the other man’s mouth tighten at the mention of the tragedy. “What are you going to do about that?”

  Vassa sighed. “Valustin will command as acting Lieutenant Major until the King returns and promotes him, but what I really need to do is contact the Manor to request more men. I tell you, Rendan, I’m not looking forward to reporting all this to Elias. If he’s having his usual trouble with Lerric—not to mention having to deal with Sofira—he’s not going to be in any sort of mood to receive this news. That is, if I can report to him at all. Have you heard any more about Taran’s condition?”

  Levant shook his head. “I left strict instructions for both you and me to be told immediately if he wakes. The last bulletin I received said he was still deeply unconscious. That fire and the tragedy of Lady Jinella’s death affected him badly. You know something of what these Artesan types are like, Jerrim, and you’ve known Taran longer than me. What are the chances of him snapping out of it?”

  Vassa shrugged sadly. “I really couldn’t say. I’m no expert on what they’re capable of, despite living among them all these years. I have absolutely no talent, according to Colonel Sullyan, and I can’t begin to imagine what they experience. But I’ve frequently heard her say they’re highly-emotional people, ruled by their feelings until they learn to use and control them. It may be that without help of some kind Taran will take days to recover.”

  Levant grimaced. “And we can’t contact Colonel Sullyan to ask for that help. It’ll take two days to get a runner to the Manor. The King’s due back before then. What shall we do?”

  “We’ll just have to wait until Major Tamsen or General Blaine tries to bespeak Taran tonight. When he doesn’t report as usual, they’ll know something’s wrong. Maybe one of them can rouse him from where they are, but even if they can’t, Sullyan will soon know of it. I wouldn’t be surprised to see her arrive here in the next few hours.”

  “We’d better wait up, then, in case she does.” Levant leaned forward to refresh Vassa’s glass.

  + + + + +

  Dexter counted heads as his men left the tavern, emerging reluctantly into the freezing night, tugging cloaks reeking of smoke tighter about their bodies. Dexter frowned and counted again. “We’re two short. Who’s missing?”

  The men glanced around, checking their friends. “Col and Pen, Captain,” someone called.

  “Did anyone see where they went? Did they leave the tavern?”

  Dexter’s snappy tone indicated his annoyance. They’d all had strict instructions as to what they could do and where they could go. Slinking off on their own hadn’t been part of the plan. He was surprised Col and Pengar had disobeyed his order; it wasn’t like them.

  He recalled Col’s questioning look when offered more ale. This didn’t add up. He called out names and sent some of the men back into the tavern to check the upper rooms and the storeroom. When that yielded no results, he began to get really worried.

  “Come on, lads, split into teams of four and begin a search. Don’t go knocking on any doors just yet. Let’s check the streets, barns, and outhouses first. Work outward from the tavern. Hopefully they just felt the effects of that damned smoke and staggered outside to get it out of their lungs. Look anywhere they might have gone to get out of the cold. Maybe they were overcome and they’ve fallen asleep somewhere.”

  They fanned out and began searching, Dexter cursing under his breath. He had been certain he could rely on all his lads. Col had been with him many years and was a trusted comrade. Pengar was a more recent addition, having transferred from another garrison a year ago, but Dex would have sworn he was as reliable as the rest of them. He’d never had any trouble from the man. Swearing expressively, but careful to keep his foul language to himself, Dex urged his men to the search.

  It was over an hour before word reached him the absentees had been found. He had grown increasingly irritated and anxious. It was coming on for midnight and they would all be on a charge if they were late getting back. He shuddered to think how badly this would reflect on the King. He raced after the man who’d brought him the news and soon arrived at the barn where Pen and Col had been found.

  He swore aloud when he saw the state of them. Collapsed on the floor, they both reeked of strong alcohol. Four empty bottles of grain spirit lay in the straw beside them and they had both fouled themselves in their drunken state. Dex thumped his fist into the door, furious at this flagrant breach of orders. The two men would be put on a charge and would eventually be discharged with dishonor. Such behavior was simply not tolerated. But Dex had been in command this night and his was the ultimate responsibility.

  “Get them out of here!” he barked. “They’ll have to be carried. Gods, just look at them! What did they have to do this for? The General will have their hides. I might even flog them myself. Come on, get on with it! We’ve fifteen minutes to get back to the palace before we all get some of what’s coming to them. Move!”

  It was a dispirited band that jogged up the final yards to the palace gates. Wil was on duty, along with two of Lerric’s men, and he was watching anxiously. He had the gates open before they arrived, and frowned in consternation as they straggled through. “What happened, Captain? Why are you so late? I expected you an hour—gods, what happened to those two?”

  Dexter stared sourly at the goggle-eyed corporal as he waved the men through the gates. “Bloody disaster!” he spat. “Went and got drunk, didn’t they, and against my express orders! Where’s the Major, Wil? I’d better report this to him before he finds out from someone else. Lerric’s lot seem to think it’s funny and I wouldn’t put it past one of them to make sure he hears before I get to him. That’s all I need!”

  Wil sent a runner to fetch Robin, and Dexter saw the two men back to their bunks. The Major strode into the crowded barracks, his feet thudding furiously on the floorboards. His face was thunderous and Dex cringed. This was likely to be all over the palace by morning, causing embarrassment to the General and the High King. He squared his shoulders and prepared to face the storm.

  Robin marched over to the two comatose swordsmen and stared down at their sprawled bodies. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of alcohol and human waste combined. He transferred his fury to his captain, and Dexter tried not to look away from the disappointment he read in Robin’s eyes.

  “What the hell happened, Captain? Weren’t my instructions clear enough?”

  Dexter took a deep breath. “They were perfectly clear, sir, and all the men were fully aware of them.”

  “So what’s your explanation for this fiasco?” Robin flung out an arm toward the unconscious men.

  Dex bowed his head. “I don’t have one, sir. All I can tell you is that the last I saw, Col and Pen were obeying your orders. They were sitting with two of Lerric’s men, and Col asked permission to accept one more drink. I gave him that permission, as they’d only had one.”

  “Then they took your permission too literally, Captain. Didn’t I tell you to only take men you were sure of? If these
two couldn’t be trusted, they should have been left behind!”

  “But that’s just it, sir!” Dexter held Robin’s furious gaze. “I’d have trusted these two with my life. They’ve never given a moment’s trouble, you know that. They’re usually the last ones to bother with drink. That’s why I deliberately included them. That’s why I took my eye off them. I’d swear on my life and my sword that they wouldn’t have done this on purpose. They would never knowingly let you down, let alone the King.”

  Robin stood in silence. He trusted Dex and trusted his judgment of the men. If Dex said they weren’t inclined to heavy drinking, he had to believe him. And it was true that he’d never had to discipline either man. He gazed at the two oblivious men before turning back to his captain.

  Dex held his gaze openly, willing him to believe what he’d said. It didn’t alter the circumstances and wouldn’t cut any ice with Lerric’s men, but Dex wanted his superior officer to know he was convinced some chicanery had occurred this night—some malicious prank to discredit Elias by revealing his crack troops to be just as debauched and disobedient as Lerric’s rabble. He knew they would suffer the consequences, but it was important that Robin understood none of them had deliberately let their King or comrades down.

  Robin let out his breath with a sigh. He shook his head in exasperation. “Very well, Dex, I believe you. We’ll wait until morning and see what these two have to say for themselves. Get them cleaned up and make sure all our lads keep their mouths shut. There’s no chance Lerric’s men will, but we can’t do anything about that. Keep these two out of sight until I’ve had a chance to talk with them. I’d better go and report to the General and the King. Elias is going to be furious over this. He’s trusting us to show Lerric how it’s done, and he’s not having an easy ride up there. I wouldn’t care to speculate how he’ll react.

  “Carry on with your orders, and try not to let this … incident upset the lads. I still trust you all and I’ll reserve judgment on these two until later. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Dexter saluted smartly, as did every other man standing, feeling wretched. He feared how far the repercussions of this fiasco might travel.

  + + + + +

  Robin shook his head as he left the barracks, feeling exactly the same as Dexter. He could hardly conceive of a worse occurrence, except perhaps a drunken brawl that ended in a murder. He could only imagine what the General would say, and Elias’s temper was vicious when crossed. And he was being crossed at every turn up in the luxurious surroundings of Lerric’s private chambers.

  Robin mounted the tower steps two at a time and brushed past the sentry without a word. His angry footfalls sounded loudly in the empty hallways, unmuffled by rug or tapestry. He passed into the better-lit halls and found, with a heart sinking further by the minute, that he could hear angry voices even from here. He had hoped Sofira and Elias might have calmed down before he returned. He cursed under his breath, using one of Sullyan’s choicer oaths. The next few minutes wouldn’t be pleasant.

  He approached the door to Lerric’s private rooms and reached for the latch. Before he could touch it, the door was wrenched open from inside, and the furious, white-faced specter of Sofira appeared before him. Her eyes snapped fire and two spots of color flamed high on her cheekbones. She breathed heavily and her eyes were red-rimmed, although there was no hint of tears. She froze when she saw Robin, and then turned slowly, deliberately, back to face the room.

  “You are cruel, Elias,” she said loudly, her voice quivering with rage or pain. “You must never have loved me if you can come here offering false hope. You can’t deceive me with your soft words and empty promises. You hold out your hand then snatch it back just when I begin to believe you! It’s a dishonorable trick, and unworthy of you, to use my children against me.”

  She turned to Lerric. “Father, if you love me at all you’ll withdraw your hospitality from this man. He has degraded me, both as a Queen and a mother. It shames me that you sit there with him, sharing your fireside and the comforts of your house. Well, you may do as you like, but I won’t suffer his torments any longer. I’ve taken as much abuse as I can stomach and I’ll speak with him no more.”

  Sofira trembled as she delivered this speech. She half-turned as if to leave, then stopped and raised her head. She glared at Elias, her voice low and full of menace as she said, “You do wrong to dismiss me so lightly, my Lord, and you have shamed me for the last time. I say to you now, for I hope we never meet again: Look to your safety, Elias of Albia, and look to your throne.”

  The Princess turned on her heel and strode past Robin, her shoulder striking his as she went. She didn’t acknowledge the contact and Robin chose not to react. He looked in dismay at the King’s rage-reddened face, wondering how on earth he could deliver his report now.

  He could see Elias controlling himself with difficulty. The meeting had degenerated as soon as the subject of their children was broached, and far from causing Sofira to lose her temper and let slip information, she had turned on him immediately, accusing him of ill-treating their children, of withholding letters, of poisoning their minds against her. It was all patently untrue, but it had put Elias on the defensive and he’d ignored General Blaine’s attempts to bring him back to the visit’s purpose. As Blaine had feared, Sofira had turned the tables on them, playing on Elias’s wounded emotions as easily as Sullyan played her harp. Robin was forced to watch in discomfort as Blaine eventually despaired of Elias and retired into resignation, nursing his drink and trying to block out Sofira’s harsh, grating voice.

  An awkward silence descended. Elias sat unmoving, his breast heaving with the effort of controlling his towering anger, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so hard the knuckles were white. Lerric sat to his left, his eyes on his drink, his face inscrutable. General Blaine was waiting for Lerric to speak, but when it was obvious he wouldn’t, not even to apologize for his daughter’s behavior, Blaine turned to Robin.

  “What was it, Major? No trouble, I trust?”

  Robin swallowed. He wasn’t going to blurt out what had happened in front of Lerric, although the king would hear of it soon enough. And with Elias in his current state of mind, he didn’t think it politic to add to the High King’s distress. Yet his news couldn’t wait. He took a breath.

  “May I speak with you, sir? In private?”

  Blaine raised his brows and very nearly broke his own rule by initiating contact with Robin. They had agreed before their arrival that contact through the substrate was to be avoided unless vital. The policy was a hang-over from years before when Sullyan thought the Baron had discovered the means to monitor substrate communication. The thought there might be others who could eavesdrop on supposedly secure conversations was hard to shake off. Blaine controlled himself before he went too far.

  He was saved from replying by Lerric, who rose to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he said with false cheer, “it’s been a long evening and you must all be tired. I have had comfortable rooms prepared for you. I suggest we allow our overheated emotions to calm down before we enter into any further discussions.”

  He bowed to Elias. “With your leave, my Lord, I’ll bid you goodnight. There is a servant outside who’ll convey you to your rooms when you’re ready. I will see you again at breakfast.”

  Elias didn’t react to Lerric’s words or otherwise acknowledge him. It was left to the General and Robin to accept Lerric’s homage and return their own as the subject king left, closing the door behind him.

  Robin eyed the King warily as he moved farther into the room. General Blaine gestured for Robin to sit. “Well, Major? What’s wrong?”

  Robin took a seat opposite the General and related what had happened in the tavern, keeping his account factual and free of emotion. From the corner of his eye he saw Elias come out of his funk and pay attention. Robin would almost rather he stayed oblivious until the sorry tale was done, but a narrowing of the eyes was the King’s only reaction—that and the paling of his redd
ened face.

  Blaine, however, was another matter. “Idiots!” he burst out, thoroughly disgusted. “How could they do this to us? Especially now, when we need their utter obedience! I thought you’d brought men you could trust, Major? Or is it your judgment that’s failed here?”

  Robin tried to ignore the General’s comment. A couple of years ago he would have reacted hotly. Now he knew better. He knew the General was only letting off steam. He told Blaine what Dexter had said about the two miscreants, and of the Captain’s suspicion there had been foul play.

  The General narrowed his eyes. “How likely do you think that is?”

  Robin shrugged. “From what I’ve seen of Lerric’s men, I wouldn’t discount it. I’ve told Captain Dexter I’ll withhold judgment on the two men until they’re capable of being questioned. I’ll soon be able to spot whether they’re covering up a lapse of conduct. If they are, they deserve to be punished and dismissed. But, sir, isn’t this exactly the sort of thing we thought might happen? Didn’t we discuss the possibility of someone pulling such a stunt to put us off the scent? What better way to prevent us from snooping than by causing trouble among our own troops? And we have made it rather easy for them. It was putting a lot of responsibility on the men, allowing them to go off with Lerric’s lot. I’d say they held up remarkably well under the circumstances. From what Dex has told me, Lerric’s men tried every trick in the book to distract our lads and lead them astray. They even trotted out a particularly nasty brand of inhaled narcotic and flooded the tavern with it.”

  “And what effect did it have?” The General’s manner had calmed in the light of Robin’s words.

  “None of our lads succumbed, sir, unless that was what finally got to Col and Pengar. We’ll know more after I speak with them.”

  “How are the rest of the men, Major?”

  Robin started at Elias’s voice and turned to the King, noting the febrile glitter in the man’s eyes. His temper might be under control, but its effects were still apparent.