Pelkesh shrugged. “It was a few dregs. No one would miss them.”
“You’re forgetting Monere and the other nobles who are unaccounted for,” Pashna said.
“As you say … unaccounted for.” Pelkesh was again peering over his glasses. “No one has proven these Farlanders took them. As I said last time, for all we know, they simply fled the city like the courtesans and so many others. They’re probably in Melanil as we speak, having a grand time.”
Leroi let out a frustrated growl. “Don’t start that shit again. They were taken!”
And so the arguments had been all afternoon and continued to escalate, the other nobles adding their input where they saw fit. Most were so frightened by the appearances of the Blighted Brothers they considered the Farlanders to be the lesser evil. At least they were human. But the destruction in the River Quarter couldn’t be denied. Neither could the stories of the freed prisoners. And still none of it was enough to sway them.
Leroi reached beneath his table, took a breath to suppress his loathing, and picked up the leather chestpiece. He gingerly placed it atop the table. The bickering ceased, all eyes now resting upon the Farlander armor. “Every one of you here have some power in soul, however small, or else you wouldn’t be a part of the nobility. This.” He pointed at the armor. “Could be one of you. It could be me. It could be my wife, my daughter, one of your wives or children, your mothers or fathers, or any other person you care for. We are little more than farm animals to these Farlanders. Something must be done.”
“You’re the Lord Marshal,” Lord Gortal said, shrugging, “what do you propose?” His gaze lingered on the armor before he looked away, face a bit more ashen.
“For starters, we make certain the city is safe. All of the city. Then we decide how much we reveal to the people. The last thing we need is to cause a panic. There have been enough rumors.” Leroi eyed the armor, for scant moments wondering how many lives were used in its creation. “And we keep the details away from the king for as long as we can. It was he who brought the Farlanders to Kasinia. We need to be sure he had no part in their plans.”
“Do you honestly think he knew?” asked Menseral, scowling. “As much as some say his brain is addled, Ainslen seems as shrewd as ever. He’d be a fool to engage in something like this. The people would turn against him. He’s proven he wants them on his side, knows he needs them. Look at how he’s awarded dreg, commoner, and nobility alike.”
“Madmen don’t think like we do,” Pelkesh said.
“Brave words, Pelkesh.” Lord Gortal stared the man down. “Be careful they don’t cost you your head. Now, I can agree to many things, but not informing the king isn’t one of them. King Ainslen made an example of the last men who plotted with you, Leroi. I won’t suffer the same fate. Nor will my family. Not much is left of the Fiorentas or the Hagaraths, and whatever power I possess is a mere pittance compared to what they wielded. The king must be made aware of our every move.”
Before Leroi could utter a word, Lord Gortal’s head separated from his shoulders. A ripple appeared in the air. Envald materialized from the wall beside Gortal, a massive sword in his hand, its edge bloody.
Pashna screamed and dashed to her husband’s side. Blood spurted from his headless corpse even as it toppled to the carpeted floor. The other nobles scrambled away from the table, horrified gazes riveted on Envald.
“I didn’t want it to come to this.” Leroi stood, fist clenched against his anger. It took all of his fortitude not to turn on Envald, not to lash out. This was the last thing he’d expected from the man, but he was left with no recourse but to back Envald’s play. “I thought you would see reason, would understand the gravity of our situation without being forced.” He paused as Pashna’s wails changed to a blubbering, snot-filled cry, and then forced himself to continue. “The king is mired in his own battle at the Swords of Humel, and is relying on these same Farlanders for reinforcement. These are his men. He brought them here. Even if he’s ignorant of their intent, he’s still responsible.”
“Wh-what you’re saying may be true,” Pelkesh said. “But the king is all we have now. If we act against him here, then he might lose to the westerners. They’re savages, blasphemers … they sacrifice children to their Gods.”
“But they don’t eat them,” Leroi said. “As terrible as it sounds, I would take an occasional ritual sacrifice, a person thrust into the Pillars of Dissolution, over the enslavement and mass killings of thousands. Wouldn’t you? Regardless, I believe we stand a chance against the west. The Farlanders, on the other hand, will crush us once they’ve become entrenched and decide to reveal their true goals. If Ernassa’s fall and King Jemare’s defeat weren’t examples enough, surely, the attack on the River Quarter is.”
“So what is it you expect of us?” Menseral dabbed at his mouth with a cloth and tried for all the world to act as if Envald did not exist. “We have no soldiers to offer, no real power.”
Leroi made a sweeping gesture toward them. “You might not all be counts and countesses, but you do have power. As with all nobility, you’re respected, run businesses, provide livelihoods for many. The people will listen to you. Spread the word concerning the Farlander atrocities, but at the same time you must reassure everyone we can keep them safe. Limit what you reveal so as not to create outright panic. Either you or your representatives will visit the nearby towns, villages, and farmsteads as far south as the Raging Sea, west across the Parmien Plains to the forests and east to the borders of Marissinia. Take some of the prisoners we freed, and family members of those who never returned to add credibility to the news you deliver. Urge those folk to come to Kasandar.”
“If we do that, won’t the king eventually hear of it?” Pelkesh’s gaze flitted to Pashna. The woman was cradling her husband’s corpse, rocking back and forth, and whimpering.
“He will hear, yes, but news takes time to travel,” Leroi said. “And he won’t be informed of any plans we might make or know exactly what we’ve done. If, like some of you suggest, he had nothing to do with the Farlanders’ crimes, then we’ve just defended his city and the Empire against a deadly threat. I’ll travel to the other major towns and cities, making them aware of our discovery. Now, go, do your part. The Empire’s future may well be in our hands.”
After murmured goodbyes, sympathetic glances toward Pashna and her husband, and fearful ones in Envald’s direction, the nobles shuffled toward the door. Leroi waited for it to open before he spoke again.
“Should any of you think to send a message to the king, remember what happened here.” His openhanded gesture encompassed the skin armor, Pashna and her dead husband, and Envald. He met their frightened expressions with one of steel. “This could be you or your loved ones.” He let the words sink in for a moment. “As a precaution against the return of the Farlanders, a Brother will follow each of you to ensure your safety. You won’t be able to see them, but trust them to be there. When you leave, can one of you ask a few servants to attend me?” He dismissed them with a wave.
With the council gone, the anger seething inside Leroi threatened to spill forth. He forced it down and waited for the servants. They extricated Lorinel’s corpse amid Pashna’s cries and protests and led the grieving woman from the room.
Leroi rounded on Envald. “What were you thinking? I could’ve convinced him to see reason. Or had him followed and made certain any messages he sent were destroyed. This isn’t what we agreed upon. With his death you’ve tossed me into a war with the king.”
“You have long been at war with the king,” Envald said. “Even if you tried to deny it. Even when you did not realize it. I simply opened your eyes to the obvious. The question you should be asking is if you can trust them not to betray our next move.”
“Fear of the Blighted Brothers should suffice.”
“Good, for I would take pleasure in setting another example.”
“That won’t be necessary. You saw their eyes … the terror. They’re convinced invisibl
e assassins are following them.”
“Then we begin our assault.”
Leroi sighed. He’d hoped seeing the dissent from the council might serve to change Envald’s mind. Or perhaps allow for more time to set up a better way to oversee Kasandar in his absence. For a moment he considered disregarding Envald’s insistence for help in this plan of his. A moment was all the thought lasted. He had a family and a future to consider. Envald was right. He’d dabbled in the secret plots of Far’an Senjin for long enough. The time had come to stand or to fall. So had the time to secure his family’s immediate safety.
******
Late that night he was lying beside Amalia, exhausted yet content. He stroked her hair, the tresses appearing completely silver by way of Antelen’s glow through the skylight and the window. Satisfaction lasted for a few minutes only as he considered his next move.
“What is it?” Amalia shifted her head on his chest until she too stared at the ceiling. “What bothers you, my love?”
“Noth—”
“Don’t deny it. The last time you had such passion for me was the night before Succession Day. Besides, you’re no longer rubbing my hair, and your sword has grown dull despite my touch.”
“You know me too well.”
“How else could I keep you even when you stray?”
“True enough.”
“So, tell me.”
“There’s too much risk in staying in Kasandar. I’m sending you, Elaina, and Jaelen away.”
“Where to?”
“The Farish Isles.”
“But you said Kasandar was the safest place until the war is done.”
“That was before I discovered the Farlander plot.”
“A part of me knew this was coming.” She moved up, turning so her face rested in his neck. Her hair smelled of lemon essence. “I dreaded it, but I knew.” The tremor in her voice tore at him.
“You’ll leave with a merchant vessel, supposedly going on one of your usual shopping trips. The ship will head south on the Ost. When you reach the coast, you’ll travel west to an inlet a few miles from Port Orillian. A Farish Isle ship will be waiting.”
“What about your sisters? Your cousins? My other family?”
“The less people who know of this, the better. You know the importance of keeping Jaelen alive. As he goes so does this family.” He wanted so badly to tell her and Elaina the truth about the little boy but knew he couldn’t. Elaina needed to keep on thinking as she did, that her nightmares were just figments of her imagination. Any deviation in the love she had for the boy would ruin everything.
“I would try to convince you to flee with us but I would be wasting my breath, wouldn’t I?”
“There are things I must do here. I still have a city to govern.”
“When do we leave?”
“In the morning, mixed in with all the other ships abandoning the city.”
“Then I suggest we make the most of what’s left of the night.” She kissed him, lips like a soft wind’s caress. He pulled her up and allowed pleasure to chase all thought from his mind.
The next morning, eyes brimming with tears, he said his goodbyes in the privacy of their bedroom. He hugged them, savored their feel and smell, and promised they would be together again soon.
******
Days later, he found himself upon the far slopes of the Whetsone Mountains, north of Kasandar. He was sitting in the topmost basket on an ereskar with Envald beside him. His Blades and the Blighted Brothers were hidden among the rocks. Below them, a cloud of dust marked a Farlander ereskar cohort’s path. There was at least a score of the beasts, baskets filled with men and supplies.
“Our job is to stop them. Then we take the ereskars to be driven by the few Blades trained for the task among my forces,” Envald said as if he were speaking about the featureless blue sky above them.
“Impossible.” With his vision Magnified, Leroi could see the enemy outnumbered his men four to one. If that weren’t enough, there were Blazers among them, firesticks shifting this way and that as they sought a target. “My men tried to stop an ereskar once. Not even quaking ground bothered it.”
“Something much simpler does.” Envald chuckled. “Stomach pain.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than two ereskars released echoing brays, the agony in the cries undeniable. The beasts crashed onto their stomachs, spilling men from their baskets. Every other ereskar drew to a halt despite the urging and whips of their Jophite controllers. Mewling in distress, the beasts ambled to their fallen companions.
“How?” Leroi asked.
“A poison of sorts … water laced with kerin. The beauty is their reaction. Ereskars refuse to abandon their own unless involved in a battle.”
The Farlanders were so taken by the chaotic situation they did not see the Blighted Brothers launch themselves into the air. The Blades followed. Carnage came next.
L ife and L eather
“W here is General Sorinya?” Stonelord Bogdanya regarded Ainslen from his seat across the tent. The Thelusian’s eyes revealed little. Neither did the serene expressions of his counterparts Nadya and Severine. The presence of only half the Thelusian hierarchy was a message. So was their choice of blood-red war garb.
Bogdanya’s face was one of straight lines and angles, the set of his mouth that of a man used to issuing commands. He was so broad of back and shoulders his tapered coat formed a wide V, and his arms threatened to burst through his sleeves. Despite the tumble of braids that fell to his shoulders, he reminded Ainslen of Sorinya, had the same challenge in his eyes. Perhaps it was that same arrogant temperament that made Bogdanya think he could question his betters. Or simple stupidity. Ainslen decided it was the latter.
He prepared a scathing retort, but instead calmed himself. There would be time enough to express his feeling. “Helping to keep Kasandar secure. He was too distracted and upset by the Farlander attacks on Thelusia. He was thinking with his sword rather than his head. So as not to risk him upsetting the delicate balance of my alliance, and thus losing that very same head, I gave him another task, away from said Farlanders.”
Ainslen gazed past his guests. Two posts were driven into the ground, most likely supports of some sort. Beyond the tent’s apertures heat rose in waves from the Wetlands’ drying fields. A slight breeze carried scents of rain. Crimson-uniformed Thelusian guards held position at the tent’s front and rear. A matching number of his Blades were at the sides. The main Thelusian army’s ordered ranks were some thousand feet to the east. Several Blade cohorts waited at a similar distance back toward Merelyn ready for any sign of deception.
“Now, enough of the small talk.” Scowling, the king held up the letter. “This is a jest, isn’t it? Tell me this is a jest. At any moment a guiser will duck into this tent to recite a tale of King Ilsindin’s little prick and stunted seed, and I’ll laugh until I cry.” He made a show of tilting his head one way and then the other, peering past his hosts as if in search of a guiser’s pompous entrance. When he refocused on them, his expression was ice. “Not only did you threaten to withhold your armies, but you dare to accuse the Farlanders of these atrocities?”
“There will be no guiser,” said Stonelord Bogdanya with an infuriating calm. “We wouldn’t make these accusations without proof. We’re here to see where you stand.”
Terestere placed a hand on Ainslen’s arm as he made to push to his feet. His fingers formed claws, digging into the armrest, and for scant moments he wanted to snap the wood. The sensation passed; he heaved a breath, and unfolded his fingers. Bogdanya regarded him with one eyebrow raised.
“Stonelord Bogdanya,” the queen said, “I suggest you provide such proof for your own good. In case it’s gone unnoticed, we’re at war, and I fear my husband’s patience is like supple wood bent to its limit. Should it break there’s no telling who the splinters might stab.”
“First, we must have assurances that he won’t overreact,” said Stonelord Severine, voice quiet and se
rene, seemingly oblivious to the queen’s warning. He had skin to challenge the night, the sweaty sheen making it glow. His red shirt was partially unbuttoned and stuck to his chest. Unlike the other two, his hair was tied back with a cord.
“Must? Assurances?” Ainslen crumpled the letter and let it fall to the rug-covered ground. “Provide what you have or I’ll take your gods-forsaken heads. Is that assurance enough?”
“An empty threat.” Stonelady Nadya was the youngest of the group, too young for her position it seemed, her skin an unblemished deep copper, face lacking the lines of experience. Her red dress enhanced her curves. Yet for all the softness about her, there was steel and fire in those eyes, and a mouth stuck in permanent distaste. “If you intended to kill us for any slight we would be dead already. Besides, without our help, you cannot win this war.”
Smirking, Ainslen met the three pairs of eyes before him and spoke softly. “It’s said that you Thelusians have short memories. Your words and tone tells me this affliction still ails you. If it didn’t, you’d remember the example I made of Rion. Wasn’t another example made of the rebels who thought to rise against your agreement with me? Multiply that destruction several times, and you have an idea of what I’m truly capable of without your aid.”
“No, we haven’t forgotten the murder of our innocents,” Bogdanya said. “Nor the defeat of the overzealous Princes.”
“There are no innocents in war,” Ainslen countered.
Bogdanya nodded. “Then it shouldn’t upset you to discover your own Kasinians have suffered the same fate we now bring to your attention.”
Ainslen laughed. He couldn’t help himself. After a final chuckle, he sighed. “So, you wish me to believe the allies who’ve stood by me, helped me gain the crown, conquered you and the Marishmen in my name, and are now on their way here to crush the western rabble, have enslaved citizens of the Empire and gone about harvesting their skin and flesh for soul?” He shook his head, a humorless smile playing across his lips. “And here I thought a guiser would enter the tent. Why didn’t you tell me you were trained in the ways of foolish entertainment?”
The Quintessence Cycle- The Complete Series Page 79