Ridmark had no particularly strong feelings about chess. The game seemed deceptively simple – each player had eight pawns, two rooks, two knights, two bishops, one queen, and one king. But the combinations of moves seemed nearly infinite, and skilled players could prepare all kinds of cunning traps and stratagems. Ridmark was only a middling player, as was Calliande, so he lost to her as often as he won their games. Gareth had the makings of a good player. Joachim had only gotten frustrated when Calliande had tried to teach him, and Rhoanna was too young. Most likely, she would try to eat the game pieces.
“What drew your attention to that blond thief?” said Calliande. She moved a pawn, and Ridmark grimaced as he lost a bishop.
“I don’t know,” Ridmark admitted as he studied the board. “I could almost swear I had seen her somewhere before, but I could not bring it to mind.” He moved another pawn.
“That’s one of the perils of growing older, I’m afraid,” said Calliande, studying the board. “Eventually you’ve met so many people that everybody reminds you of somebody.” She reached for a rook, hesitated, and settled instead on moving another pawn.
“Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “Caius thinks she might have been the wife or daughter of one of the Enlightened nobles.” He moved a knight in answer to her pawn.
“I suppose,” said Calliande. “A few of the Enlightened nobles did escape. Gavin and Antenora fought one in the catacombs of Tarlion a few years ago.” She moved one of her rooks forward several squares. “Perhaps she is the daughter of one of the Enlightened nobles. Tarrabus fell twelve years ago, and if this Aeliana is in her early twenties, she would have been only a girl then.”
“Aye,” said Ridmark. “Though I doubt Aeliana was her real name.” He studied Calliande’s rook. Had she left it open? “I think Vegetius and Flavius were right. She’s probably a clever thief and nothing more. No doubt in another week or two she’ll start working as a barmaid in Tarlion or another town as she selects out her next target.” He made up his mind and captured the rook.
Calliande winced. She hadn’t seen that coming. “That makes as much sense as anything. And I suppose thieving is a more pleasant way to make a living than whoring. It’s a cruel world. But that doesn’t give people the right to prey on each other.” She moved her remaining rook past her pawns.
“No,” said Ridmark. “That was the difference between Niall and Aeliana. Niall wasn’t preying on anyone. Aeliana was.” He moved his knight towards Calliande’s rook, a plan starting to come together in his mind. Chess wasn’t all that different from swordplay, come to think of it. One move led to another, and another, and if you put together right sequence of moves, you could get past your opponent’s guard. Though chess wasn’t as bloody as sword fighting.
Usually. Unless there was a wager involved.
“Are you going to bring Niall back with us to Tarlion?” said Calliande. She slid her remaining bishop forward.
“Maybe.” Ridmark didn’t bother to ask how she knew what he had been thinking. They had known each other too long for that. “He’ll always be known as a thief here, and the abbot might make trouble for him out of spite. I suppose it depends on what his aunt wants to do. He won’t leave her.” He moved his queen forward a square.
“I could find work for Rhiain in the domus or the Tower of the Keeper,” said Calliande, giving his queen a suspicious look. “She has a surprising knowledge of medicinal herbs. Perhaps she could work in the Tower of the Magistri, making the medicines we use to supplement the healing spells. You seem determined to make a man-at-arms of Niall.”
“I think he has the makings of a good one,” said Ridmark. Why had she moved her knight there? Did she see his attack coming? “Maybe he doesn’t want to be a soldier. If he doesn’t, we can set him up with one of the craft or merchant collegia in Tarlion. But I think he’ll take up the sword. All the men of Ebor agreed he was the one who kept his head when the red orcs attacked the villagers.” He moved his rook again.
“That’s a good point,” said Calliande, frowning at the board.
“I’m going to have to ask you a favor tomorrow,” said Ridmark as she contemplated her next move.
“Oh?”
“I want you to come with me when I go to speak with Accolon,” said Ridmark.
She looked up from the board. “You hardly need to ask a favor for that, Ridmark. I would have done it anyway. The abbot will whine about my presence inspiring his monks to lustful thoughts, but most of his monks are so old and fat that I doubt they’ve lusted for anything but food in the last twenty years.”
Ridmark snorted. “That would be harsh if it were not true.”
“I have known monks who I am certain were saints,” said Calliande. “That cannot be said of Abbot Caldorman’s cloister. There is such a thing as too much wealth and too much property, and that can be corrupting. But, yes, I will go talk to Accolon. It does not sound like he is doing well.”
“He isn’t,” said Ridmark. “He blames himself for the death of his lover.”
“If he had just shown a little more self-control this wouldn’t be a problem,” said Calliande. She sighed. “But we all have moments of weakness.” A quick smile flashed over her face. “You could have had me pretty much anytime you wanted after the first day we met.”
“It seems to have worked out,” said Ridmark.
Her smile faded. “And I know about grief, Ridmark. I know about blaming myself for things beyond my control.”
“We both do,” said Ridmark.
“Perhaps between the two of us we can make him see reason,” said Calliande. “But I do know this. He’s in that monastery because he’s overwhelmed with grief, not because he has a true calling to the monastic life. And even if he did have a calling to become a monk, rotting away in the house of Caldorman’s complacent, overfed fools is the worst possible place for Accolon. He’s too talented for that. He was born to be a man of action, not contemplation and prayer.” She reached over the table and gripped Ridmark’s hand. “Like you.”
He squeezed back. “Caius thinks it will take some kind of distracting work to lift Accolon’s mind from his grief. He’s likely right. Perhaps there is some problem or another Arandar can ask Accolon to handle. God knows that ruling is nothing but one damned problem after another.”
“That is the task of a lord,” said Calliande. “A good lord, at least. Handling all those problems.”
“Well, once the children are grown, maybe someone else can deal with the problems of Castarium,” said Ridmark. “I suppose Gareth would inherit the lordship, but God knows I don’t want to inflict it on him.”
“I would just be happy if he had a more peaceful life than we did,” said Calliande.
“That wouldn’t be hard,” said Ridmark. “Also, it’s your move.”
“What? Oh, yes, right.” Calliande withdrew her hand and looked at the board for a moment. Finally, she made an exasperated sound and moved her queen. “This game is enjoyable, but there comes a time when the outcome is decided, and everything else is a formality.”
“I agree,” said Ridmark, and he moved his rook one more time. “Checkmate.”
“Checkmate?” said Calliande, eyes widening. “That is not checkmate.” She stared at the board and scowled. “That is checkmate.” She shook her head and tipped her king over with one finger. “You win again.”
“You’ll likely win the next game,” said Ridmark. “I’m afraid neither one of us is terribly good at this. We’re like two inept swordsmen flailing away at each other.”
Calliande laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but I think this is the first time I’ve been compared to an inept swordsman.” She smiled at him, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. “You are victorious.”
“It would seem so,” said Ridmark.
“You’ve overcome my defenses, and I am helpless before you,” said Calliande. She rose, crossed to his chair, and seated herself upon his lap. Her arms went around hi
s neck, and she wriggled a little as she settled into place. “Well, you’ve won me. What are you going to do with me?”
She shifted her hips again, and Ridmark’s body had an immediate response.
“I’ve talked too damned much today,” said Ridmark. “No more words.”
“All right.” Her eyes glinted as she smiled. “What are we going to do instead of talk?”
In answer, he kissed her long and hard, his hands tugging aside her skirt to slide up her smooth leg.
Some time later, they lay tangled together in the bed, catching their breath as the fire died down to coals.
“Ridmark?” said Calliande, lifting her head from his chest and pushing the sweaty hair from her face.
“Aye?” said Ridmark.
“We’re a lot better at this than we are at chess.”
He laughed despite himself. “Thank God for that.”
She fell asleep, and Ridmark felt himself following. Today had been unpleasant, but he supposed it could have been worse.
In the final instant before he fell asleep, the grim part of his mind pointed out that things could always get worse.
***
Chapter 6: The Daughter Of The True High King
As midnight approached, Aeliana Carhaine opened her eyes to darkness.
The gloom was near-absolute. Seven of the thirteen moons were out tonight, but in the attic of the house, very little illumination penetrated inside. Only a few shafts of light leaked through gaps in the boards of the roof.
Aeliana had no trouble seeing in the darkness.
Not any longer. Not after the power the Warden had given to her.
She sat up and looked around. The attic was the top level of a house in the northern half of Castarium, not far from the gate to the monastery. A weaver and his family owned the house, and they specialized in making sails for fishing boats in their workshop on the first floor. Bundles of canvas were stacked across the floor, covered with heavy tarps and scented herbs to keep moths at bay. The hot air in the attic smelled of dried herbs and dust. The weaver and his sons hadn’t been up here in days, and they wouldn’t come up to the attic until they needed more canvas.
By then, Aeliana Carhaine would be long gone.
And, most likely, Castarium would be ashes.
She rose and dressed in perfect silence. Aeliana donned male clothing, a loose tunic, trousers, a mantle and cloak, a belt with sword and dagger, and a cap to conceal the braid of her long hair. She was a beautiful woman and knew it, and had no trouble attracting the attention of men when she wished it. But there was a time and a place to draw attention, and this definitely wasn’t it. Aeliana rubbed a touch of coal dust on her pale cheeks, just enough to give the illusion of stubble in the dim moonlight. No one should be on the streets at this time of night, but if anyone saw her, they would assume she was on some errand of her own, likely a man paying his mistress a discreet visit.
She lifted her backpack, which held her supplies and the money she had stolen from the innkeeper and the other townsmen. Aeliana felt no guilt about stealing it, and indeed, she even took a measure of enjoyment from the thefts. The townsmen were stupid and plodding. The women allowed themselves to be dominated by their husbands. The husbands were ruled by the town curia and the lord. In truth, the common people were little better than animals, fit for providing resources for their superiors to use and nothing more.
Aeliana knew she was better than them.
But, she had always known she was better than most people, hadn’t she? Ever since Aeliana had seen her mother sobbing and whimpering and begging and had felt nothing but disgust and contempt for her weakness, she had known she was better than the great mass of humanity.
Tonight, Aeliana would prove it. Castarium would burn, and Aeliana would be one step closer to her revenge.
She was superior to the plodding mass of humanity…but they had still taken things from her. Aeliana was the daughter of the rightful High King of Andomhaim, Tarrabus Carhaine, the man who had taken the throne not by his bloodline, but through strength and conquest. Her father would have remade humanity with the power of Incariel, transforming mankind into immortal gods, and Aeliana would have stood at his side forever as he ruled the world.
Instead, Tarrabus had failed. His stupid and petty vassals had failed him. His allies had deserted him.
And Ridmark Arban had murdered him.
Aeliana was willing to concede that perhaps Ridmark was also superior to the great mass of humanity. He had killed her father, after all. And she had watched as he dealt firmly and decisively with the cringing commoners that crowded his hall. His handling of that business with the sheep thief of Ebor had been clever. No doubt his talk of mercy was merely a cunning ruse to win the affection and loyalty of the commoners.
A ruse, to be sure, but an effective one.
None of that would matter in another day.
Aeliana slipped open the shutters of the narrow window. She slid through, climbed up the wall, and balanced on the rooftop. Night hung heavy over the town of Castarium, and Aeliana saw lights in only a few windows. The combination of the seven moons overhead covered everything in a sickly silver-green light, almost like the scales of a fish. In that light, Aeliana saw the town laid out on its peninsula, the towers of the castra dark shadows against the sky, and the endless undulating mass of the sea to the south.
It was strangely beautiful, she had to concede.
It would be more beautiful when it burned.
Aeliana jumped from rooftop to rooftop, making no sound as she did, taking care with her footfalls so her movements did not wake anyone sleeping below. The odds encountering anyone out and about after dark were low. The commoners of Caldarium feared the night, hiding behind barred doors and shuttered windows to await the dawn.
Not Aeliana. Not after the training the Red Family had given her, and not after the power the Warden had bestowed on her.
That thought caused her to shiver as she remembered Urd Morlemoch.
The night held no terrors for one who had entered the Warden’s cursed citadel and come out alive again.
That sent her thoughts back along the path that had taken her to Urd Morlemoch.
###
Perhaps it had started when she was four years old.
Aeliana’s memories of her early life were dim, hazy. She knew she had been born in one of the villages near Castra Carhaine in Caerdracon, the seat of the House of the Carhainii who had ruled the duxarchate of Caerdracon for centuries. That had been in the days when old Dux Samothus Carhaine ruled his lands with an iron fist before Tarrabus had taken his father’s place.
Her mother had been a commoner in one of those villages. An innkeeper’s daughter, perhaps, or maybe the child of a prosperous blacksmith or a commoner. Or maybe even the bastard daughter of a minor noble or knight. Aeliana did not know, and she did not care enough to find out.
She did remember the last day she had ever seen her mother.
It had been in a private room in a tavern in one of the villages near Castra Carhaine. Aeliana remembered her mother weeping, wringing her hands.
“Please, Tarrabus,” her mother had said. “You cannot just cast me out. I’ve had your child. My father will never take me back.”
Tarrabus said nothing. Her father sat in the room’s only chair, and at four years old, Aeliana thought he was the most magnificent person she had ever seen. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face, and his expression was remote and lordly and cool. Her father wore fine clothes, a tunic, mantle, trousers, and polished boots, and a sword and dagger hung at his belt. Two knights stood at his side, wearing blue tunics adorned with the black dragon sigil of the Carhainii. One was a big, burly man with close-cropped blond hair and mustache, and flat black eyes like those of a reptile. The second man was shorter and less bulky and wore his black hair long and his mustache bushy. He was smaller than the blond knight, but something in his stance made Aeliana think of a hunting cat preparing to pounce.
“Dux,” said Tarrabus.
Aeliana was not yet familiar with the noble titles of Andomhaim and wondered why her father was talking about ducks. Did he want her mother to cook him a duck for dinner?
“What?” said her mother.
“My father has died,” said Tarrabus. His smile was satisfied. Later Tarrabus would tell Aeliana that he had killed his father and enjoyed it a great deal. “Under the laws of Andomhaim, I am his heir, and now I am the Dux of Caerdracon and the lord of Castra Carhaine. You will address me as ‘Dux Tarrabus’ or ‘my lord Tarrabus,’ either is suitable.”
Her mother gaped at Tarrabus. Aeliana found something repellent in her even then. Perhaps it was a bovine quality in her eyes. Or the cringing way she looked towards Tarrabus, like a dog hoping for a bone from its master.
“Yes, my lord Tarrabus,” said her mother at last. “But…now that you’re Dux, surely you need someone to comfort you?” She tried a seductive smile. “I would be pleased to serve my lord the Dux in any way that I can.”
“I’m sure that you would,” said Tarrabus.
Her mother grabbed Aeliana’s shoulders and pushed her forward. “See? I’ve borne you a daughter. She’s a good, obedient girl. I named her for Aelia Licinius, that must please you. Surely you have a use for her? If you give me an income, I’ll ensure that she…”
“Is that what this is about?” said Tarrabus. “Money? Do not presume to extort me, harlot. You amused me for a time, and that was all. I suggest you do not get ideas above your station.”
“But the child, my lord, the child,” said her mother.
Tarrabus shrugged. “What is that to me? Support her however you like. Perhaps on your back, with one lover and one copper coin at a time.”
“My lord, please,” said her mother, and she stepped forward to reach for Tarrabus’s hand.
Dragontiarna: Knights Page 9