Covenants (v2.2)

by Lorna Freeman

  The king sighed. “We have given someone a command, yet you prevent him from obeying. Tell us, what is that called?”

  The King’s Own were chosen for their family trees, not their mental capacities, but these guards caught on quick and moved aside. I took one step closer and extended my hand. The king sighed again and, grabbing my hand, yanked me to him. “We haven’t bitten anyone. Yet.” He traced the rune just as Laurel did, and just as it did for the Faena, it flared warm. He looked up at me, his eyes now completely gold. “What did Ambassador Laurel say when he heard this?”

  “He was very upset that I hadn’t allowed Rabbit to be trained,” Suiden said.

  “Very good, Captain Prince,” Jusson said. “But we asked our cousin.”

  “He said that it was no wonder that Magus Kareste greatly desired my return, as I should have been reduced to a quivering mass like the assassins,” I said.

  “Indeed.” The king’s eyes narrowed into slits. Still holding onto my hand, he stood and spread open my palm. “Come look, everyone.” No one moved. The narrow-eyed gold glare swept the room and suddenly I was mobbed. “Do you see anything evil?”

  A ragged chorus of “No, Your Majesty” sounded. “Though he did kill a man, sire,” a lordling added.

  Captain Suiden opened his mouth.

  “Do not presume to answer for us, Captain Prince,” Jusson said. “While your zeal to protect your charge is commendable, please remember that you are not in Tural.” The king turned to Thadro. “Tell me, Lord Commander, how did Lieutenant Rabbit say he killed his attacker?”

  “With a knife, Your Majesty.”

  “So he did”—Jusson tapped my palm with his finger—“and not with this. Show us the knife, cousin.” I tried to tug my hand from the king’s grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. So I pulled the knife with my other hand and started to hand it to him. The guards as one drew their swords.

  “No, cousin, not to us.” The king indicated Lord Commander Thadro. “To him, if you please.” I switched directions and handed the Lord Commander my knife, noticing that I hadn’t gotten all the blood off.

  Commander Thadro took the knife and examined it.

  “Well?” said the king.

  “It’s just a knife, Your Majesty.” Thadro hefted it in his hand. “Well balanced and cared for, but still a plain knife. Though you should clean it properly, Lieutenant, before you resheath it.” He handed it to a guard.

  “An assassin is killed after he and his fellows attack Lord Rabbit,” the king said. “Is that evil?” Another ragged chorus denied that it was. Jusson nodded and let go of my hand. “No, of course it isn’t. We will tell you what is evil. When guests are invited to fellowship and one is poisoned and the other has to fight for his life.”

  The silence was back.

  “And when a soldier’s weapon is made to fail at the time it is most needed.”

  The silence deepened and I shivered.

  King Jusson turned to Suiden. “We will leave the royal physician plus two of our Own for Lord Esclaur here while he is recovering. Please tell Ambassador Laurel that this is only to relieve our anxiety and not to cast any doubt on him.” He waited for our bows and, gathering his Court, left the room in the same whirlwind that he entered in.

  As footsteps pounded down the stairs, I realized that, in guarding Esclaur, the two Own would also be standing outside my bedroom—and I wondered which way that sword was supposed to cut. I also realized that Lord Commander Thadro had taken my knife.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  I was awakened from a sound sleep by a pillow hitting me in my face. I immediately rolled out of bed holding the boot knife that I had under my own pillow, staring about in the gray predawn light as I strained to see who had attacked me.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake.” Lord Esclaur, leaning on one elbow, smiled.

  The bunk above me creaked as Jeff looked bleary-eyed over the edge of his bed. Lord Esclaur’s smile widened to include him too. I sighed and sat down on my bunk, and began to run my hand through my hair, nearly stabbing myself in the eye. I found my boot sheath and put the knife back.

  “Is this the embassy?” Esclaur asked, looking around the room. While the rest of the house was furnished in elegance and grace, the room looked exactly what it was, a soldier’s barracks. There were two sets of bunk beds with two foot-lockers, and that was it.

  I nodded, yawning.

  “How exciting. I can now tell my friends that I spent the night in the cat’s den.” He threw back the blanket, glanced down, then snatched it up again. “Uhm, I seem to have lost my clothes.”

  I mumbled at him that they all had been sweat-soaked.

  “My goodness, I really must’ve been sick.” He sat up again, making sure the essential parts remained covered. “You don’t happen to have a spare robe, do you, Rabbit?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, muttering that I had left all my robes at Freston.

  “Well, maybe the trooper has something I can wear.” Jeff grunted “No” and then wondered aloud what sin he had committed to be afflicted with chatter so early in the morning, “my lord.”

  “Surely someone in this place must have something I can put on.” Esclaur smiled again, ignoring Jeff. “Will you see to it, Rabbit? I can’t wander about naked.”

  I mumbled that I would see what I could do, then stood up, yawning and stretching.

  “Rabbit,” Jeff said. “What’s that by your foot?”

  I glanced down and was suddenly wide awake. I carefully moved my foot away from the spider about to climb on it.

  “There too,” Jeff said, leaning down and pointing.

  I looked and saw another one glowing against the dark blanket on my bed. That was not good. “Uh, maybe you should check your bunks.”

  There were squeaks and thumps as Jeff and Lord Esclaur (the lordling managing to keep decently covered) searched around.

  “There’s one here also,” Jeff whispered. He eased out of his bunk, climbing down to stand next to me. At that, Esclaur decided to join us, just on general principle, wrapping his blanket (after shaking it out) around him.

  “There’s another,” I said, pointing at the floor. “Four of them.”

  “Five,” Esclaur said, looking in a corner.

  We huddled closer.

  All the spiders were the same—long, pale and nasty looking, like the one we’d seen in the garden. The first one moved towards my foot again, apparently fascinated with my big toe, and I reached for one of my boots next to my footlocker.

  “Steady,” Esclaur murmured. He grabbed the other boot.

  “Don’t miss,” Jeff said softly, somehow managing to contort and get one of his own boots without moving his feet. “We don’t want angry spiders running about our exposed parts.” There was a silent count and then we raised our boots and brought them down, again and again. Jeff swarmed up to his bunk, knocking his bed guest to the floor where it was pounded flat. I did the same with the one riding on my blanket. Then we turned berserker, snapping off blankets, flipping mattresses, moving the footlockers, shifting the bunks themselves as we discovered three more spiders. Another spider crawled out from the boot Jeff held and he yelled, shaking it off his hand onto the floor, where Esclaur and I pounced on it, our boot heels coming down in rapid succession.

  The door was flung open but we ignored the royal guards standing there with their swords drawn and their mouths open. “Were you bit, Jeff? Did it bite you?” I asked. Breathing hard, Esclaur and I clustered around Jeff, staring at his hand. I grabbed it and moved it closer to the window, straining to see in the light. “It doesn’t look like it, but maybe I should get Laurel—” I turned to go and came face to face with Groskin and Slevoic standing just outside the bedroom door. I raised my hand to push my hair out of my face and Groskin slammed down to the floor while Slevoic, after a moment’s hesitation, took a step back. I scowled at Groskin. “Oh, get up. My hair was in my eyes.”

  “You threatened him,” Slevoic said as Groskin sl
owly rose and straightened his tabard, keeping his eyes on the floor. “You saw,” Slevoic said to the two guards. “Rabbit threatened Groskin.”

  “Go away, Slevoic.” I said as I made to go past him, but he pulled a knife and stepped in front of me. I sighed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Heavens, is that you, Slewy?” Lord Esclaur said, coming to stand beside me, his blanket still wrapped around him, and carrying his quiz glass. “What on earth are you doing lurking outside Lord Rabbit’s door?” He raised his glass, peering at the lieutenant’s knife. “Comparing weapons with your friends?”

  I watched Slevoic, who was staring in blue-eyed amazement at Lord Esclaur. “A little Border healing,” I said.

  Slevoic recovered fast. “It was probably a little Border poisoning to begin with, puke.”

  “I was poisoned?” Esclaur’s voice rose to a squeak, his quiz glass forgotten.

  “Yeah. See what happens when you hang out with freaks?”

  “But your mother wasn’t there, Slevoic,” I said.

  The two royal guards blocked the lieutenant, one catching his arm and pushing his knife hand down.

  “Why are you up, my lord?” The royal physician had come up on us from the stairs and, to her credit, only blinked at my smalls. And in that blink I was behind the door. I felt a presence next to me and looked. Lord Esclaur had beaten me inside the room and was also peering around the door, his head just below mine. There was a snicker and Esclaur and I opened the door so that Jeff was in the healer’s line of sight. There was a thud as he dove for a bunk, forgetting about spiders at the double threat of a woman physician.

  The healer didn’t miss a beat. “Why do you have a knife out, Lieutenant?” She listened to Slevoic for a few sentences. “Stuff and nonsense. Lord Rabbit had nothing to do with Lord Esclaur’s poisoning and I’m sure he has better things to do than to threaten you. Put it away before you hurt yourself and make more work for me.” She swept up to the door, which I had closed again to a narrow slit, and addressed my eyeball. “Open the door, my lord, so I may attend to my charge.” There was a breeze and then another thud as Lord Esclaur ran and jumped into his bed. Furious whispers were exchanged as he made Jeff find another hiding place.

  I made a diving leap for my own bunk, snatching up the blanket to fling around me (after snapping it very hard—I hadn’t forgotten the pale beasties). “Come in—” I stopped and tried for a few octaves lower. “Come in.”

  Lord Esclaur slid down in his bed until only his eyes showed over his blanket as the physician approached him, and another bout of whispers started as she tried to get Lord Esclaur to release the cover.

  “It isn’t enough that we’ve had excitement and alarms all through the night. You have to create more, before the sun rises,” Suiden said from the hallway, wearing a beautifully brocaded robe, its gold threads winking in the weak dawn light. Groskin and Slevoic, taken unawares, spun around while the royal guards snapped to attention. The captain’s green-eyed gaze, though, was aimed in the room, and Groskin tried to sneak down the stairs. “Where are you going, Lieutenant?” Suiden said, without turning around.

  “To the mess, sir!”

  “I see. As you and Lieutenant Slevoic are both so full of energy, you will put on your dress uniforms and guard my office door. Now. And Slevoic”—the captain held out his hand as the lieutenants turned to go—”give me your knife.”

  Slevoic paused, then finished resheathing his knife. “No, sir.”

  Silence fell hard in the hallway.

  “What did you say, Lieutenant?” Suiden’s voice took on a basso rumble.

  “I said, no, sir.” Slevoic looked over the captain’s shoulder. At me. All along the hallway, doors opened and heads popped out, and he raised his voice. “I refuse to go unarmed while Rabbit is not under restraints. Lord Esclaur was poisoned last night while in his company and he has just now tried to attack Groskin.”

  For the first time in two days, Groskin met my eyes, ashamed. “That’s not true, sir. I overreacted—”

  The captain rumbled over Groskin, flames leaping in his eyes. “You refuse a direct order, Lieutenant?”

  Slevoic smiled, his face filled with taunting derision. “Yes, sir—hellfire and brimstone!” he shrieked as the very real dragon bore down on him. He scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, his gaze riveted on the flames licking out of Suiden’s muzzle. I pulled my blanket over my head, hoping that the captain wouldn’t find me in the dark.

  “Do you really want to chomp the lieutenant, Suiden? I mean, he’s been hanging about with Ryson. No telling what he’s picked up.” I allowed a small opening in the blanket and watched as Javes the wolf appeared, placing himself between Suiden and Slevoic. He leaned against the dragon’s front legs and Suiden allowed himself to be stopped.

  “You twist whatever you touch, Slevoic,” the dragon prince rumbled, and the windows shook. “And what you can’t, you break. But not my men. Never my men.” Barely fitting in the hall, Suiden’s wings scraped either side and the ceiling. He folded them tight against his body as his flames burned yellow-white. “Give me the knife.” Slevoic weighed surrendering his weapon versus having his arm and any other body parts ripped off. Or fried. He gingerly laid the knife in Suiden’s outstretched taloned claw and turned to escape downstairs.

  “You haven’t been dismissed, Lieutenant,” Suiden said, and Slevoic froze, then pressed back against the wall. Suiden put his head to the door and looked into the room. “Come out from under there, Rabbit.” I emerged from under the blanket. “Where’s Jeffen?” Jeff came out from behind a footlocker, padding on black paws to the middle of the floor, avoiding the spider remains on the floor. Over at the other bunk, the healer stared down at the blue-eyed white wolf staring back at her. The royal griffins at the door shifted lion’s feet and ruffled their eagle’s feathers, while Groskin lay crouched down before Suiden in the hallway, the black panther’s ears flat to his skull. All through upstairs and downstairs I could hear the echo of animal sounds.

  “Apparently Sro Cat’s final catalyst has happened,” Suiden said. “Can you change us back, Rabbit? Or are we stuck like this forever?”

  “I don’t know, sir.” I swallowed, the now familiar metallic taste in my mouth, and my hands started to shake at the implication.

  “Who cares? This is outstanding.” Javes squeezed past the royal griffins and ducked under Suiden’s head to come into the room. His yellow eyes were gleaming. “Is this how you’ve been seeing us, Rabbit?” He glanced down at his body. “What happened to our clothes?”

  “Don’t know, sir,” I replied, my eyes on Suiden as the dragon turned his head to watch Slevoic.

  “You don’t know? Perhaps we should ask the ambassador, eh?” The gray wolf sat on his haunches and looked about the room, his ears pricking forward as he saw Lord Esclaur. “I say, you too?”

  As the two wolves eyed each other, I could hear the animal calls change into words as the world shifted once more. Laurel Faena entered the room carrying his staff, walking by Suiden in his brocade robe. Jeff was sitting on the floor, once more in his smalls. I looked down into my lap where my hands rested, and noted how they were still shaking. Breathe, I reminded myself.

  “What has happened?” Laurel asked, as Jeff rose and, in a nonchalant way, moved to his bunk and snatched a blanket off, wrapping it around him. Javes had the presence of mind to also rise and now stood in his own splendidly bright silk robe, his quiz glass around his neck. Out in the hallway other faces filled the doorway behind Suiden, their eyes wide. Many were grinning—a few, though, were not.

  “In good time, Sro Laurel,” Suiden said. He chose a burly trooper. “You will escort Lieutenant Slevoic to his quarters”—Slevoic jerked up and stared at the captain, his chest still heaving in his fright—”where he is to remain under guard until he is brought up on charges of insubordination. For a start.” Slevoic opened his mouth but, as Suiden gave a deep, rumbling growl, he shut it again, quick. The trooper slipped into his roo
m, returning with sword and knife, and stunned looks followed them down as the men watched Slevoic being herded down the stairs. One, though, scowled.

  “So,” Laurel said, looking at me. “What happened?”

  “We were invaded by weavers—” I began, pointing to the flattened and fragmented spiders.

  “We were hexed!” Ryson shouted out, causing everyone to start. (He must’ve not liked being a real sheep-biting, goat-tupping weasel.) The troopers shook off the shock of Slevoic being held accountable, and mutters of agreement swept through them.

  “No one was ‘hexed,’ ” Laurel said, his voice mild, as he frowned at me. He then looked at the floor. “These weavers?” He brought the end of his staff down with a thump. “How many were there?”

  “That was ten, sir,” Jeff said.

  “A pox on the spiders—” Ryson said, and the muttering grew.

  “What spiders?” the royal physician said. She left Lord Esclaur and moved over to where the spider pieces lay on the floor, and abruptly backed away again. “Everybody out of here. Now!” She grabbed Esclaur and hauled him up out of the bed. “Leave the blanket, my lord.”

  “I’m bloody naked—”

  “Do you want to be bloody dead?” The healer started pushing him towards the door, trying to pull the blanket off. “You know better, my lord. Why on earth did you stay in here?”

  “But we got them all—” Esclaur began, turning his head to her.

  The healer yanked him to the side. “You’re barefoot! Watch where you walk!”

  Suiden stepped into the room and squatted down by one spider carcass, then immediately stood up again. “Ten Pale Deaths?” He moved quickly out into the hall, the royal guards also backing up. “Get your arses out of there. Now.” He looked at Laurel Faena. “You too, ambassador. Dying of their bite is very—unpleasant.”

  I threw my blanket off and hurried to the door, Jeff and Laurel on my heels, making sure to avoid the weavers’ remains. “One crawled on Jeff’s hand,” I said.

  “If you haven’t started convulsing by now, you weren’t bitten,” the healer said, as she examined Jeff’s hand. She then peered at me. “You didn’t step on any, did you, my lord?” Her gaze switched to Laurel. “Ambassador? Their venom goes right through the skin.”