Chapter 39
Luca was scrubbing at the dried residue on the office floor when the outer door opened. “Is your master in?”
“Captain Torg,” called Shianan from the next room. “One moment, please. I’ll be right there.”
Shianan looked haggard when he came, as if he had not slept well—which he had not. “Good morning, captain.”
“Good morning, commander. I have a question about the fourth squad—”
“Leave that for a moment.” Shianan gestured to a chair as he sat behind his desk. “Captain Torg, I called you from the hinterland, and only recently. You did not know I would invite you.”
The captain looked faintly startled. “No, sir.”
“And I can’t imagine you were making alliances from that distant post in the expectation of finding yourself suddenly in Alham, which, thanks to my childhood, was very unlikely.”
Torg regarded him. “What are you asking me, sir?”
“Someone tried to kill me last night, Torg. And you’re nearly the only man I can trust to ask about it.”
“Tried to kill you?” The captain was appropriately disturbed.
“Yes.” Shianan ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t know of anyone who might try such a thing, do you?”
Torg blinked, hesitated, and shook his head. “Of course not, sir.” He shook his head again. “How?”
“He sent a slave to whore in the baths,” Shianan said testily, “and she was supposed to put a knife into me. Fortunately, I don’t have a taste for coerced women, and she never got a chance.”
Torg nodded. “How did you know that was her purpose?”
“I had a look in her master’s window. Apparently she had a change in heart, because she told her master she couldn’t kill after all. More, she said she wouldn’t let him do it, and I suppose he felt she had enough knowledge to be a threat, because he killed her.”
Torg whistled under his breath. “So you have evidence. Why not arrest the girl’s master?”
“I have no evidence at all,” Shianan corrected. “I overheard a slave say she would not kill at his order. A slave’s word is only barely admissible as evidence, with conditions, and that particular slave will never testify. I saw him kill a slave, which is uneconomical but not a crime.”
“And no one else saw this?”
“Luca was with me.” Shianan nodded toward him. “But again, a slave’s word carries almost no weight, His witness, even under torture, wouldn’t be enough to overturn the man’s denial while I have no other proof.”
Luca scrubbed vigorously with the brush, working bits from between the floorboards. His word’s lack of worth had spared him from Ande’s hearings thus far. He might be needed for the final trial, he had been warned, but not for the preliminaries. He hoped vehemently he would not be needed at all.
His knees ached. He had been working at this for some time. He wondered if Karlm’s light-haired slave were simultaneously scrubbing at a large dark stain.
“He’s a merchant, come to negotiate a supply contract. I’d never met him until a few days ago. What reason could he have to kill me? He must be working with someone, and I have to find who that may be.”
Torg steepled his fingers. “Could it—no, no.”
“You have an idea?”
Torg glanced toward Luca. “May I speak freely?”
“Luca has already seen as much of this as I have.”
“A slave can be bribed or threatened.”
“No.” Shianan shook his head. “In many cases I might agree, but this is different.”
Torg looked between Shianan and Luca. “No taste for coerced women, but coerced men have a different seasoning?”
“Captain!” Shianan’s steely tone made Luca jump. “I can relieve your mind on that score.”
Luca, red over his face and neck, dumped the brush into the dirty water and retreated into the sleeping room.
Torg cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir,” he offered, with a quiet emphasis on the final word. “I should not have suggested….”
Shianan exhaled, a little of the tension going out of his shoulders, and glanced at the door Luca had closed. “I’ve had Luca only a few weeks, true, but in that time he has saved my life. He stays because I trust him—and if I did not, no other reason could keep him here.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, captain.”
“No, sir, I am the one to apologize. I forgot my place.”
Shianan smiled bitterly. It was more than a little awkward, having their roles reversed. “Now we’ve settled that question, what other suggestions do you have?”
“Of course, there’s the Gehrn. Their high priest is imprisoned here, and you’re the reason he came.”
Shianan swore. “That’s an excellent point.”
“What little I know of the Gehrn, though, they wouldn’t favor subtlety. They’d be more likely to march on the city, I think. Kill you in the street.”
“Still, it’s worth considering. If you hear anything, on any front, will you let me know?”
“Of course. Who sent the slave he later killed?”
“His name is Karlm. I cannot imagine he conceived a grudge for me in Vandoga and came all the way here just to act upon it, so he must be in alliance with someone else.”
“I’ll keep my ears open, sir.”
Torg closed the door to his quarters and leaned against it, trying to calm his rapid pulse. He thought he had hidden his agitation well, but that would not be enough if his fears were realized.
Years ago, he had blunted the king’s intent to dispose of his bastard son. Now someone again meant to kill Shianan.
Torg closed his eyes and thought. The king had changed his mind about Shianan, hadn’t he? He had brought him to the capital, ennobled him. Surely he wouldn’t turn again to kill him—and if he did, he wouldn’t need a foreigner’s slave to work it.
Shianan didn’t know of the king’s early order, or Torg’s part in it. There was nothing to suggest he’d guessed he was meant to die that night.
Torg liked Shianan a great deal. He could not stand between Shianan and the king, but he did not want to see him killed by another malefactor. He would listen, for what good it would do.
Chapter 40
After Torg had gone, Shianan drummed his fingers, staring at nothing.
He had faced harm early and often as a soldier. On the roads there was danger, too, from robbers eager for coins, weapons, armor. But those were impersonal threats, a mere transaction of unsavory business. A soldier or a bandit did not choose Shianan particularly.
But this attempt had been for Shianan himself—direct, specific, personal. That somehow felt very different, and his mind wanted to shy from the thought. There was no reprieve in denial, however.
Who would benefit by his death? Almost no one, directly. He stared at his notes. His guesses were wild and baseless, conceived almost wholly on the basis of his parentage.
The queen. Queen Azalie had resided outside Alham since Shianan was first called to the city, having told her royal husband she would not enter the Naziar while Shianan was attached there. She had the sense and decency to publicly pretend her habits were not rooted in her resentment of the bastard, but Shianan knew better. If she had tired of arranging her calendar about his existence, or if she had tired of waiting for him to die in battle, she might have arranged to hurry his death.
The idea was extremely far-fetched, however.
Soren. The prince-heir had no likely reason to want Shianan dead, but he could conceivably be guarding his position. Half-royals had claimed the throne before. Again, it seemed unlikely.
Alasdair. The younger prince might be likewise jealous of a half-royal, and possibly more so since Shianan had the advantage of age. He might also, at twelve, lack temperance.
Another officer? Shianan had racked his memory for any officer who might have desired Shianan’s position or been jealous of his relatively quick rise. There had been a few raised eyebrows, of course, but had anyo
ne resented him enough to kill? He could think of no one, but perhaps he had missed something.
The Ryuven. Shianan did not flatter himself that the Ryuven feared him personally, but it was possible they were seeking to weaken their enemy by assassinating military personnel. But General Septime and others were a more logical choice than Shianan, and he could not help but think the magic-rich Ryuven would have chosen a more direct method than convincing a human merchant to send a slave to seduce and stab him.
Luca. Shianan had written this only out of a need for completion. Slaves did kill their masters; Furmelle was evidence enough of that. And Luca had been free once, and might seek to be free again.
But he had given up his chance in the beginning, when he had come to Shianan’s aid rather than taking the opportunity to flee. And he did not behave as a slave who loathed his master—the opposite, in fact, perceiving Shianan’s condition and emotions with uncomfortable accuracy.
And while he could have invented the story of the slave’s proposition, he had not been the one to kill her. Shianan could not imagine a plot so complex as to include Luca.
He glanced up with relief when the door opened for Ewan Hazelrig. “Good afternoon, your lordship. Do you have a moment?”
“As many as you require, my lord mage.” Shianan indicated the chair which Torg had used.
“Thank you.” The White Mage seated himself and glanced about the office. “May we speak freely?”
Luca was working in the next room, but the door was closed between them. “Go ahead.”
“The Circle has determined to remake the shield tomorrow night. I cannot stall any longer. The tests on the Shard have been completed, and it has been determined there is no lasting damage. The evidence against Ande will include the presence of Ryuven blood to disrupt the shield and unmake its properties, and while I have not found a way to reconcile that with my conscience, I have not found a plausible alternative, either.” Hazelrig sighed. “At any rate, if we want to allow for Ariana’s return, we must do something to prevent the remaking of the shield.”
Shianan swore softly. “Forgive me, my lord mage, but I had not expected this. I… have been distracted by other developments.” He gnawed at his thumbnail.
“Distracted?” Hazelrig’s voice was cool. “Is there something more pressing than regaining my daughter? Your friend?”
Shianan bit into the quick of his nail. “Someone tried to kill me last night, and I have no idea who it might be.” He looked suddenly at the mage. “I don’t suppose there are any magical aids that could help with that? A potion which might, when deposited in a cup of ale, force a man to reveal his plans and accomplices?”
Hazelrig, initially stunned by the announcement, shook his head and smiled faintly at Shianan’s speculation. “I’m afraid not. But can you tell me what has happened?”
Briefly Shianan wondered if Hazelrig had any possible motive, but if the mage wanted his help with the Shard, he could not want him dead. “In short, one of our visiting merchants made an attempt—unsuccessful, obviously—and he executed the slave who failed to kill me. I have no evidence on which to arrest him, and I cannot fathom why he would have done this.”
“You have no guesses?”
Shianan shook his head. “Nothing worthwhile.”
Hazelrig glanced toward the door. “Then, if I may offer a suggestion, you might send away the slave for a time. It’s possible that someone—”
“Why does everyone think of Luca?” Shianan sighed. “Luca—is not a typical slave. I trust him. Besides, I have put too much time into training him thus far. Why, he actually attacked me with a staff last night.”
Hazelrig stared at him, and Shianan shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, it has not been an easy night or day. If you hear anything that might help me, please let me know. Now, to the Shard—so we must steal it, then?”
“That is the best action I had thought of, yes.”
“Right.” Shianan sighed. “I think I can hide it.”
Hazelrig looked at him. “You thought before you would be under suspicion if it disappeared.”
“So I did. So I would.” Shianan winced as his thumbnail tore further. “She can’t return on her own?”
“Only Ryuven can leap the between-worlds. She must be carried, and Tamaryl can’t travel through the shield.”
“And he can’t just, I don’t know, push her across?” Shianan ran fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, I know it’s beyond me. I can’t think of any other way. You would have thought of anything magical.”
“There are several magical blocks,” Hazelrig said, “but none that could not be immediately detected and quickly overturned. That would betray us without serving our purpose. And of course, it would be futile to explain we believe her alive. At best, I would sound like a deluded man insane with grief. At worst….”
“We are both executed as traitors, and she dies there.” Shianan exhaled. “Then I suppose we have no choice.”
Hazelrig’s expression was full of conflict. “I want my daughter, Bailaha. I want her returned more than anything else. But I don’t want to sacrifice you to that end.”
“I don’t want to sacrifice myself, either. I will be careful.”
“How will it be done?”
“I will come to visit you in your office,” Shianan said. “I’ll take it from the cellar then, but we’ll have an alibi in each other. Then I’ll have the Shard well away and hidden before the Circle convenes.”
“Where will you hide it?”
Shianan shook his head. “No, this is my crime, my lord mage. You cannot lie if you do not know the truth.”
And I will solemnly try my best to say that only I was involved, though they ask me with hot irons. Shianan gnawed at his thumb, tasting blood.
Chapter 41
Maru was calculating remaining doses of the herbs when the door opened. He turned, surprised. “Daranai’rika. Good afternoon.”
She glanced about the room, past Ariana’s sleeping form. “It’s stuffy here, without a window.”
“Yes, but that is beneficial for her. The fewer sensations, the better.”
“Hm.” Daranai paced a few steps. “Tamaryl’sho is not returning so quickly this time.”
Maru nodded. “I think Ryl is—”
She laughed, interrupting him. Her laughter was not unpleasant, only amused.
Maru regretted his error. “I’m sorry, rika. Tamaryl’sho.”
She sat on the empty bed, Maru’s bed, and smiled at him. “I understand long force of habit.” She bent one elegantly curved finger to catch red-gold hair fallen over her eye. Maru could sense the aura of glamour around her but was not sure how much of her appearance was altered. “Tamaryl’sho has always been kind to you.”
“I consider him the best of friends, rika.”
“And I am glad you’ve had that pleasure,” she said. “Once Tamaryl’sho and I are formally conjoined, of course, you will not be able to visit so freely. As a prince doniphan, Tamaryl must pay stricter tribute to social custom, and fraternizing with nim.…”
The words cut through Maru. She spoke everything he feared. Even through the years when he and Ryl had been close, Maru had always quietly worried that responsibilities would eventually demand his friend. And it was already true: Tamaryl, once returned, had been repeatedly forced elsewhere by Oniwe’aru’s orders. Maru did not resent it—Tamaryl could not do otherwise—but to hear his fears confirmed aloud was cruel.
Daranai looked impersonally over Maru and smiled, catlike. “There might be a place for you in our household, though.”
For a moment Maru’s breath caught—he had never considered that there might not be a place for him, that Tamaryl might release him to the next lord of obligation—but then he pushed away the thought. Of course he would stay. His friend might have more responsibilities, but even Oniwe’aru had respected their friendship and restored Maru’s service to Tamaryl’s estate. It could not be otherwise.
D
aranai let her eyes move to Ariana, huddled and shivering on the bed. “I don’t mind that Tamaryl’sho has played with other toys before now,” she said. She looked back at Maru, her expression hungry. “I can understand the attraction of something wriggling and helpless.”
Maru’s stomach clenched with abrupt realization. His throat twitched as he swallowed.
Daranai laughed. “Don’t play so ignorant, nim. There’s nothing more helpless and wriggling than a handsome young male pinned by the balls.”
Maru did not meet her eyes. “You are my lord’s bride. I cannot, rika.”
“I am your lord’s bride,” she repeated, “your mistress, and you will do my will.”
“Rika—”
She stood and walked toward him, her stride never changing as he backed away until he found himself against a wall. She stretched her fingers to his chin and tipped his face up. “Ah, Maru,” she said, apparently pleased. “I don’t mind a little reluctance. It makes the play more fun.” Her eyes narrowed. “But don’t overdo it.”
Maru’s pulse pounded as he squeezed to the side. “Daranai’rika, I will be your obedient servant in all matters, but I cannot do this. If you will not accept my will, then please accept that I cannot betray my lord of obligation.” He appealed to Tamaryl’s authority—she surely could not argue against that.
She smiled, unaffected by his rebuttal. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. I will return in an hour. You have until then to think it over.” The smile chilled. “I urge you to see this my way, Maru. I have had a very trying morning with taxation and agricultural records and I am not in a mood to be patient. I will be gratified one way or another.” She turned for the door, leaving Maru frozen where he stood.
Ariana rose through the misty greyed darkness and found herself in her usual room. Her mind was matted with tangled sensations, but they did not hurt her; she was still safely under the sway of the drug. It was fading, though, and she would need another dose soon.
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