The second round of the Challenge, consisting of thirty-two men and sixteen duels, was to occur over a period of four days, and by the third Devlin Alvik was completely and utterly perplexed.
Both he and his brother were convinced Cadien Stavrakos and Aris Sylvain were responsible for the theft and replacement of the painstakingly-composed list devised by himself and Oliveah Oslund. And naturally, Devlin’s initial fear upon discovering this was that Stavrakos had somehow discerned the truth of either Taleb Okin or Nathon Wythe, and now aimed to halt Devlin’s attempts by ensuring the young man in question was killed during the competition. But the pairings that had so far and continued to occur gave absolutely no credence to this theory, nor to any other the jester could come up with.
Taleb’s opponent the day before had given him little trouble. Nathon’s had proven somewhat more concerning, and while he might have fallen to Beynon Ansell had it not been for Knoxx’s intervention, his death had been but a possibility rather than a certainty. The conclusion Devlin drew from this was that whatever Stavrakos’s intentions, they did not include knowledge of the two men he was trying so very hard to protect.
The next logical theory drew him to Prince Luken, although this way of thinking contained a major flaw; the jester could think of no possible reason why Stavrakos would want to see the prince harmed or dead. In fact, coupled with the reality of the king’s deepening madness, it was likely Prince Luken’s death would only bring about a civil uprising where the Major Houses would then put forth a battle for the throne. The result of this, no matter who conquered, would undoubtedly see Stavrakos—as well as the entire royal council—ejected right alongside their demented king. And so, unless it was his goal to lose any and all power he now possessed, it did not seem likely Stavrakos looked to bring any harm to Prince Luken either.
Devlin had also dismissed the theory that Stavrakos might be plotting with one of the houses that would make a play for the throne should King DeSiva suddenly lose his only heir, and the reasoning for this was also quite simple. With Redgar DeSiva half-mad but still relatively young and in good health, the treasurer was at the pinnacle of his power. Chances were actually quite slim that he would desire any change of circumstances, for he, along with Devlin, was basically running the country already. It just didn’t make any sense that he would wish to harm the prince and risk any threat to his own power.
This particular reasoning had been confirmed just this morning when Prince Luken’s name had appeared on the day’s list, slating him to fight a knight in the final match of the day. No knight would dare harm a member of the royal family, and so this pairing all but confirmed that the prince was not the one in danger here. Devlin was relieved but more confused than ever.
He could think of only one other reason why Stavrakos may have wanted to manipulate these games, and that reason was Kem Maida, the lastborn prince of Navosa. Devlin had made it a priority to see Maida alive from the Challenge, and Oliveah Oslund had readily agreed with this aim, seeing the danger of war should he die here upon Dhan’Marian soil. But Stavrakos had apparently agreed with this strategy as well, wasting no time in ousting Maida from the games by way of the warlord. This made sense, for he would gain nothing from inciting a war with Navosa, but while it came as a relief to have no more need to worry about Maida, the truth of it had also effectively shredded Devlin’s final theory over why Stavrakos had taken and changed his lists.
The royal jester could not remember ever before being as frustrated as he now was. Sitting there amongst the rest of the royal council, he paid very little attention to the day’s first three duels, carrying out his duties mindlessly as he declared a Dhan’Marian criminal, a knight, and then a foreigner the matches’ victors. The first duel was the only one to result in a killing, which also gave Devlin reason to ponder. Under the pairings he himself had devised for the first round, fourteen men had been slain. So far, under Stavrakos’s manipulations, only two had so far met the same fate. Clearly, a high body count was not the treasurer’s goal in this either.
Devlin’s last hope was that Knoxx, who wasn’t needed on the field this day, would turn up some possible clues. At his direction, his brother was right now disguised with invisibility and snooping about Stavrakos’s private quarters in the castle. It was a last-ditch effort and quite possibly a dangerous one. The jester had warned Knoxx that it was more than likely the treasurer had traps in place to guard his most secret dealings.
Sending his brother into such a situation hadn’t pleased Devlin, and neither had directing him onto the field to aid Nathon Wythe the day before. But by telling Knoxx the entire truth of the matter, he had made a decision, and one he was now committed to seeing out. Along with those of many others, Knoxx’s life now hinged solely upon the jester’s ability to keep their intentions unknown.
Devlin was still looking about more or less blankly, his mind on other matters, when it came time for Prince Luken’s duel. Idly watching the prince take his position, and having no more cause to be concerned with his fate, the jester went on with his ceaseless pondering. Frankly, not being able to come up with a single motive to explain why Stavrakos had taken his list was driving him utterly and completely mad.
It was then, just as the prince and knight began their “fight” that Devlin began to take note of the faintest inkling at the back of his mind. He slowly grasped the idea and examined it from every angle, testing it for feasibility. After several minutes he began feeling a rush of elation, for, unless Knoxx discovered something to the contrary in Stavrakos’s quarters, he felt he’d finally managed to discern the likeliest explanation for all this.
The revelation brought relief as well as worry. For while it seemed unlikely Stavrakos had even the slightest idea in regard to Taleb and Nathon and the circumstances surrounding them, Devlin knew it was possible he’d let something slip over these past few days, despite being incredibly careful to keep his particular concerns hidden.
Stavrakos knew he’d been manipulating the Challenge. But beyond a desire to oust the princes of both Dhanen’Mar and Navosa from the competition safely, he hadn’t known why. The treasurer, just as adept at sniffing out intrigues as was Devlin himself, clearly smelled a deeper conspiracy here, and the jester would now be willing to bet that he’d had Sylvain steal the lists simply to rattle him and see what shook loose. Stavrakos was fishing, and Devlin could only hope he’d let nothing of his true reactions show—giving him even greater cause to be grateful that he’d begun taking much more caution with his movements. Chances were, the treasurer now had his spies watching him more closely than ever.
Devlin suddenly realized that the match playing out before him was now over. Not surprisingly, the knight was on the ground, with Prince Luken standing victorious over him while wearing a pleased look of surprise. The man honestly seemed to believe he was winning these fights fairly.
The jester got to his feet and made his way forward. He again noted the apparent lack of enthusiasm from the crowd, this time picking up on more than just a faint note of hostility. Evidently Taleb Okin had not been understating matters when he’d claimed the entire city knew they were being shammed by these matches featuring Prince Luken.
A faint spattering of applause responded to his shout naming the prince the victor of the duel. Luken still appeared oblivious to any negativity, but Devlin knew they were about to have a serious problem when a few pieces of trash began hitting the field. A low grumbling was starting to resonate its way through the stands, growing louder in volume as it circled its way about the field.
“I think it best we be off now, my prince,” he said quickly to Luken, starting him back toward the rest of the council as well as the royal guard waiting to escort them all back to the castle.
Their exit from the forum bordered on ugly. While most of the populace seemed to be holding themselves to a simmering silence, the braver souls continued throwing garbage onto the field and some even began shouting disparaging comments th
at even Prince Luken could not misconstrue. He shot the jester a worried look as the royal guard hurried them through the marketplace.
“Why do they mock me, Devlin?” he asked, appearing genuinely wounded. “Do they not understand that I do this for their approval?”
Devlin withheld a sigh, imagining how very different matters would be if this man’s father was not such an insufferable ass.
“Clearly they are simply jealous of your startling fighting prowess,” he told the prince.
Luken looked at him dryly. “I’m not a complete fool, Devlin. Whatever you are doing, it needs to end now. The people expect better of their royal council, and in that they should not be disappointed.”
Hiding his surprise, Devlin simply nodded. Of course, this was not an order he planned to follow, but he did think it time for Luken to be safely removed from the competition. Once the devising of pairings was back in his competent hands, he would ensure that this happened early on in the third round.
The knights of the royal guard hustled them into the two carriages waiting to bring them back to the castle, where Devlin was informed upon his arrival that the king, who’d been riding in the other carriage, requested his presence in the council chamber immediately.
He stifled another sigh and headed there straight away, annoyed that this would only delay his meeting with Knoxx, who by this time would be awaiting him in his own chambers two floors above.
Devlin was not the only one summoned. In fact, the entire council but for Prince Luken converged within minutes, all taking seats about the table as the king stood before them. He appeared in a foul mood, and Devlin braced himself. He felt he knew what was coming, and had, in fact, been anticipating it for days.
“I would know,” the king began, glaring at Stavrakos, “why the warlord continues to live.”
Stavrakos appeared legitimately aggravated as he replied, which was not surprising.
“I have sent two assassins to take care of the problem, my liege,” he insisted. “Both, however, seem to have suspiciously vanished from the city grounds.” He then shot the most fleeting of glances to Devlin—a clear signal that he was aware Baiel Maves’ continued survival was solely due to the jester’s interference.
The king was not pleased by this answer. “Then send more assassins!” he commanded.
“I will see to it,” Stavrakos promised calmly.
Devlin noted Captain Poage and Commander Catala exchanging a glance. While neither held a particular love for the warlord, it seemed they didn’t approve of killing him just to prevent him from winning the Challenge, either. But of course, neither shared their reservations.
Devlin did not dare even glance at Seneschal Galaz. Now knowing Stavrakos at least suspected something, the very last clue Devlin wished to give him was that the seneschal was involved. For by unveiling that, the field of likely scenarios would be considerably narrowed, and Devlin could not imagine a more dangerous situation than Stavrakos possibly discerning what he and the seneschal were presently up to. There would be two ways in which the treasurer could possibly handle the matter if he did figure this out before all the pieces were in place—either quietly, resulting in only a handful of deaths, or by aiming for an all-out bloodbath. Devlin didn’t think the bloodbath option was very likely, but it wasn’t a chance he wished to take.
The king, by this time, had apparently grown bored of talk regarding the warlord, and taken his seat at the head of the table. He spent a few moments examining his hands—a move no one risked inquiring into further, lest they all be subjected to a lengthy lecture about palmistry or fingernail dirt or the Patrons only knew what else—and then settled his attention onto his royal jester.
“I think you have been fixing the matches, Devlin,” he began lightly.
Devlin had not been expecting this, and would now be on the verge of panic had nine years of serving upon the royal council not conditioned him well.
“An interesting theory, my liege,” he responded smoothly, “but I would never dare act so bold.”
Cadien Stavrakos interjected here. “For certain the Patrons are, then,” he began, staring at Devlin. “For while the odds of our dear prince drawing a knight in the first round were generous at about one in five, the chances of him matching with one again were somewhat more obscure. Less than twenty to one, in fact,” he said, the grin he was now wearing very faint but undeniably present.
Devlin stared back at him expressionlessly. Since it had been Stavrakos himself who’d paired Luken with a knight in the second round, he was suddenly wondering if this discussion was a coincidence, or something that bore a deeper truth.
Redgar DeSiva was grinning as well, and evinced a glint in his eye decidedly more sane than usual. “It pleases me to hear you claim so, Devlin,” he said, completely ignoring Stavrakos. “ For I was much concerned by the public outcry just recently witnessed in the forum, and believe the best way to placate the populace, as well as prove to them that there are no such manipulations occurring, would be to begin publicly drawing the pairings. We can commence with this for the third round.”
“An excellent idea, my king,” Devlin nodded, even while cursing the name of each of every Patron in the heavens, both past and present. He was seriously beginning to wonder if the king actually desired Luken to come to harm. He could think of no reason why if so, but one could hardly apply logic when trying to discern the motives of one who spent so much of his time lost to madness.
Looking about the table, Devlin saw none of the other men looking especially happy with this development either. Obviously, none wished to see anything happen to their prince, at least not for any reason Devlin could determine. Still, something about the timing of this was incredibly disconcerting.
He next contemplated the matter of having to relay this new twist to Oliveah Oslund. Suffice it to say, she would not be pleased. He then ran down a mental list of the twelve men to have so far passed on to the third round—the final four would be determined tomorrow—and then he began to sweat. There were three men remaining whom he considered very serious threats; one was the Balshan who’d killed to end both his matches, the Jennite Rydin Kale, and the Dhan’Marian mercenary he’d witnessed just that morning. He could not imagine the nightmare of any of these three being drawn to face Prince Luken, suspecting all would happily gut the prince before the entire populace. The thought of Taleb or Nathon having to face them wasn’t particularly pleasant either, although they, at least, would stand a fighting chance.
Deciding this would be an excellent time to panic, Devlin calmly took in his king. “Was there anything else you wished of us, your majesty?” he asked.
Redgar DeSiva regarded him in silence for a moment. He then did something extremely telling, and it sent a deep chill straight into Devlin’s bones.
The king shifted his eyes to Cadien Stavrakos. “I believe that is all,” he said. “You all may go.”
As he got to his feet and exited the room at the most casual pace he could muster, Devlin realized he had absolutely no idea what was now occurring here in the castle. That look to Stavrakos had come very near to being one of question, and that told Devlin something had happened to place Redgar DeSiva even further under the treasurer’s slimy thumb.
Whatever was transpiring, Cadien Stavrakos, and not the king, was pulling the strings. Devlin knew this likely meant his days were numbered, and as he headed up the winding staircase toward his private rooms, he aimed to make the most of them. If he was going down, it was within his power to bring the entire royal house down with him—a fact he still felt relatively sure Stavrakos was not yet privy to.
Devlin entered into his chambers. He made certain the heavy stone door was closed and securely latched before turning back to face the room. “It’s clear,” he announced.
Knoxx appeared instantly, sitting on the couch against the far wall. Devlin could immediately tell from his expression that he’d had little luck in searching Stav
rakos’s rooms.
“It’s fortunate you warned me of that man’s paranoia,” his brother greeted with a frown. “Had I been anyone but a trained thief, twice I would have been pricked by concealed and poisoned springs.”
“What did you find?” Devlin replied, taking the chair across from him.
“Not much,” Knoxx admitted. “Within one lockbox there was evidence showing he’s been siphoning funds from the royal coffers.”
Devlin snorted and waved a hand. “He’s been doing that for years. Anything else?”
“Two things.” Knoxx shifted slightly, then continued. “First, I found a contract hidden away in another lockbox and further protected by a poisoned spring. Given such precautions, I was forced to think it must be noteworthy in some way.”
“Yes?” Devlin said, interested.
“Stavrakos apparently spent an obscene amount of money shipping a set of jewelry here from Veron. Earrings and a bracelet, gold set with emeralds. If they’re for a lady friend, I’m thinking he must enjoy her company quite a lot.”
Devlin frowned. Despite his wealth, Stavrakos wasn’t exactly popular with the court women, with all evidence showing he felt much more at home in one of the city’s brothels. And Devlin very much doubted the aforementioned pieces were meant to be a gift for one of his whores.
“How much did he spend on the jewelry?” he asked, thinking.
“He paid one thousand gold for the items. I’m not certain if this included the cost of having them delivered to him here in Aralexia,” Knoxx said.
Devlin’s eyes widened. Despite the fact that the country of Veron was some distance away, he figured those emeralds had to be the size of chicken eggs to demand such a price. He also couldn’t figure a single reason why Stavrakos would suddenly be interested in women’s jewelry.
“This is indeed most curious,” he murmured. “Although with Sylvain now under his employ, I’m surprised he didn’t just send him to Veron to steal those jewels for him.”
“I thought of that too,” Knoxx nodded. “Seems to me Stavrakos realizes he can trust Sylvain only so far.”
Devlin grinned at his brother faintly. “I see the credo of your kind is apt enough. Honor Only Among Thieves, isn’t it?”
Knoxx wasn’t impressed by the comment, simply raising his eyebrows and staring back.
“What was your second discovery?” Devlin went on. He supposed he couldn’t fault his brother for having no sense of humor under the present circumstances.
“A safe. It was hidden behind a bookcase, cut into the very wall.”
Devlin found this extremely interesting. “Could you open it?”
Knoxx pursed his lips together in frustration. “No. Picking the mechanical locks would have been no problem, but there are numerous spells placed upon it as well. The safe itself was constructed by mages, and without the word they devised to act as the key, it will be very difficult to crack.”
Devlin took him in. “Difficult—but not impossible?”
Knoxx sighed. “I can try, but promise nothing. And I will need some time. First, to learn the anti-spells I’ll require, and then to physically work them upon the safe itself.”
“How long will you need to be alone with the safe?”
He paused to think. “Minimum, three hours.”
The jester frowned, thinking.
Knoxx waited, looking at him.
“Gather what you need,” Devlin then went on after another moment. “I will find an opportunity to ensure your safety for the hours you will require.”
It was clear his brother wasn’t looking forward to this.
“On another note,” Devlin went on, “we need to discuss what is to happen at the conclusion of the Challenge.”
Knoxx’s look cleared. “I presumed you would ask me to remain here in Aralexia. Clearly, my talents are a great asset to you.”
Devlin began shaking his head. “It can’t be you,” he said. “You are too well-known as my brother, and should you remain in Aralexia after this week it will only be seen as suspicious. No, you must return to Corbit’s Canyon.”
Knoxx’s eyes were now narrowed. “Then where are you going with this?” he asked bluntly.
“The talents of a thief are indeed a great asset to me at this time,” Devin went on. “And although I regret to lose your gift of invisibility, I would think any proficient thief could handle what I will require. Someone you trust, Knoxx,” he said.
His brother’s eyes were now widening. “You’re asking me to persuade one of my brethren to remain here and take orders from you? Without even knowing why?”
“Yes,” Devlin answered.
Knoxx sighed and shook his head, even as he dropped it down into his hands. “I suppose I could ask Tishan, if you have no objection to a woman. But she will not do this if Flynn forbids it,” came his muffled response.
Devlin had met Tishan on several occasions and thought she would work out nicely—so long as he kept her distanced from a certain member of the royal council. But Fajen could be a potential problem.
“However,” Knoxx then went on, looking back up, “I think I may have a way around that.”
Devlin knew the utter nightmare he was now making of his brother’s life. He also knew there was nothing to be done about it. Brother or not, Knoxx was now a resource, and Devlin had no choice but to use every resource he could get his hands on.
“Tell me your strategy,” he invited, sitting back.
Chapter 39
Auguries of Dawn Page 39