Bonds of Vengeance (33 page)

“Thieves. In the Grey Hills.”

“Someone get a healer!” he shouted to the men closest to the door. “Are the rest of you all right?”

“I’ve hurt my wrist. The bone may be broken. Otherwise we’re fine.”

“How much did you lose?”

Dunstan grinned. “Only a few qinde.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. “You were fortunate.”

“I suppose,” the piper said. “But you should have seen Corbin! He—”

“You’re right,” Cadel broke in. “We were fortunate. But Jaan needs healing, and a place to lie down.”

Dunstan stared at him a moment, then nodded.

The innkeeper led them to his own quarters in the back of the tavern, allowing them to lay Jaan on his bed. “I’ll be back with some food and tea,” he said, bustling back toward the kitchen.

Dunstan and Anesse remained beside the lutenist, but Kalida pulled Cadel into the next room. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her face was pale. Once more he was struck by how lovely she was. He was going to miss her.

“You said we were fortunate,” she began at last, her eyes meeting his. “I don’t think fortune had anything to do with it.”

“Of course it did,” he said, looking down at his wrist and flexing his hand. He could move it with only a bit of pain. Perhaps it wasn’t broken after all. “Anytime you encounter thieves and escape with both your life and your gold, you’ve been lucky.”

“That’s not what I meant. The way you fought them . . .” She shook her head. “I was watching you fight. You never had any doubt that you could defeat them, did you?”

“Of course I did.” He wasn’t certain why he bothered lying. He couldn’t stay. Dunstan was ready to write songs about his prowess with a blade, and now this from Kalida. When the shock of what had happened wore off, the others would have questions as well. They would never look at him the same way again. Still, his dream of leading a
quiet life wouldn’t die so easily. “There’s always doubt,” he told her. “When I fell today, when I hurt my wrist, that could have given him the opening he needed to kill me.”

“But you fought—”

“Honok and I used to travel a good deal. We encountered many thieves, and over the years we learned to defend ourselves. That’s why I fight as well as I do.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. You fought only when Anesse and I—” She swallowed. “When it seemed they were going to take more than just our gold. You could have fought them at any time, but you waited until then. It was almost as if you didn’t want us to see you fight, as if you were afraid to let us see how good you are with a blade.”

He started toward the door, intending to retrieve what few possessions he carried from his room upstairs. “I should go.”

“Who are you, Corbin?”

“I’m a singer.”

“And what else? A mercenary? Are you a thief yourself?”

He turned and walked to where she stood. She didn’t shy from him, and when he bent to kiss her lips, she returned the kiss.

“It doesn’t matter what else I am or was. I came here hoping to be a singer, and I became your lover because I thought you beautiful and kind. Never doubt that.”

He crossed to the door once more and pulled it open.

“Where are you going to go?”

“It’s best I don’t tell you.”

“What about your wrist?”

“I’ll find a healer.”

“What about us?”

He glanced back at her and smiled. “I’ll remember . . . us for the rest of my days. Tell Anesse and the others what you will. Be well, Kalida. Gods keep you safe.”

She gazed at him sadly, but there were no tears on her face, nor did he expect that there would be. Given time, he might have loved this woman.

“And you, Corbin,” she said.

He slipped past the other musicians, returned briefly to his room, and then left the tavern, knowing that several of those who remained in the great room of the inn marked his departure. He knew as well that people in Ailwyck would speak for years of the singer who came to
their city, bringing music such as few of them had heard before, only to leave a short time later, after single-handedly defeating five road brigands in the Grey Hills. This couldn’t be helped, nor could the fact that this tale would spread through the land, eventually reaching Qirsi ears, or perhaps those of Tavis of Curgh. There was nothing he could do but journey onward. He was an assassin. He had been an assassin for more years than he could count, and he would die an assassin. This, it seemed, was his fate.

Chapter
Thirteen

Solkara, Aneira, Osya’s Moon waxing

“You’re wasting time,” Henthas said, sulking in his chair.

Numar had to smile. “Perhaps. But it’s my time, not yours.”

There was a part of him that actually enjoyed seeing his brother so agitated. Certainly these discussions grew tiresome, but they also served a purpose, reminding Henthas that though he might have been duke of Solkara, Numar, in his capacity as regent, led their house now.

“The longer you remain regent to Carden’s child, the weaker you grow. She’s ten now, and with each year—”

“That’s right, Henthas: she’s ten. She has no claim to the throne for another six years. The fool’s way is to rush matters. And as we both know, I’m no fool.”

The duke’s face colored, and Numar nearly laughed aloud. He was no more a fool than Henthas was a jackal. Jackals were cunning; they were dangerous. His brother was neither. Numar had reduced him to little more than a lapdog, toothless and completely dependent on Numar’s goodwill.

“The dukes won’t follow a regent to war. You said yourself that
Dantrielle was already showing signs of defiance. What if he can convince others to stand with him?”

“Then I’ll crush them, just as I intend to crush Tebeo. I don’t have to be king to wield power. Indeed, I believe in most respects you’re entirely wrong. As regent, I have as much sway with the dukes as I would as king, and far more goodwill. Wearing the crown, I become just another Solkaran tyrant, a man to be feared and distrusted, just as Carden was. But so long as I remain regent, I am merely the dead king’s younger brother, humbly serving the land in its time of need.”

Henthas snorted. “You honestly believe they see you that way?”

“Enough of them, yes. And I’m fully certain that were Kalyi to meet her untimely end anytime soon, it would mean my downfall, and Solkara’s as well. Killing a noble or two is one thing. Murdering the child-queen is quite another.”

He saw a quick smile touch his brother’s face and vanish, and there could be no mistaking the gleam in his brother’s eyes. There was just enough malice in Henthas to make the prospect of such an end to Numar’s reign attractive to him. He would never be king, and he would remain duke of Solkara regardless of the house’s standing in the realm. Indeed, Henthas was the sole person in the royal house who would actually benefit from the girl’s death, provided he escaped blame in the matter. With Kalyi gone, her mother, Chofya, the former queen, would no longer have any claim to the status she had first attained as Carden’s wife. Numar, if he weren’t hanged for killing the girl, would be relegated once more to the marquessate of Renbrere, leaving Henthas as Solkara’s leader. The Solkaran riches would belong to him, and any hope the house had of reclaiming the throne would rest with Henthas and his heirs. In light of how little power Henthas had now, he would have been mad not to consider such a course.

Fortunately, Numar had considered it as well.

“I know what you’re thinking, brother,” he said mildly. “I give you my word, you will be blamed for any harm that comes to the girl, not I.”

“How can you be so certain?”

He grinned, opening his hands as if to reveal the answer. “Which of us is the Jackal, and which is the Fool? The dukes may not yet trust me completely, but they’re genuinely afraid of you. To them, you’re just like Grigor. In fact, several of them are still convinced that you had as
much to do with the poisoning of the queen and the Council of Dukes as our dear, late brother.”

“Thanks to you, no doubt.”

Numar merely shrugged.

“So what is it you want of me? You summoned me here. There must be something on your mind.”

“I require nothing but your patience, my lord duke. When the time comes, I’ll see to the girl. No one wants her dead more than I. But I’ve a war to fight as well, sooner rather than later if the missives from Curtell are to be believed. If all goes as the emperor says it will, we’ve much to gain from allying ourselves with Braedon. You need only to wait, and support me, and help keep the other dukes in the fold.”

“And how will my patience be rewarded?”

“Our success, and the continuation of the Solkaran Supremacy should be its own reward. But if you require more, I can offer you the lands of Dantrielle.”

Henthas sat forward. “Dantrielle?”

“If Tebeo opposes me, as I fully suspect he will, I’ll have little choice but to lay siege to his castle and seize his lands. The dukedom itself will remain, of course—my authority only goes so far. But as provided in the Volumes of Pernandis, his lesser holdings will be forfeit. And I’ll make certain that they’re given to you.”

“Can you do that?”

“I’ll have little choice, if he’s guilty of treason.”

Henthas shook his head. “I think you give the other dukes too little credit. As you said a moment ago, they chose you to be regent, not tyrant. They won’t stand by while you strip one of the major dukedoms of her lands. They might have allowed Father to do such a thing, but not you.”

“Treason is treason, Henthas, and the volumes are quite clear on the point. The other dukes will have no choice but to accept my decision.”

Henthas bared his teeth in what Numar took for a grin. “You think you’ve won already. Grigor was the same way, you know. He thought he’d won, and look how it turned out for him.”

“You forget. I’m the one who destroyed him. Grigor would have prevailed, but he took me too lightly. You’d be wise not to make the same mistake, brother.”

“You’re not as smart as you think you are, Numar. Not nearly.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m smarter than you.”

Henthas just stared back at him with an air of calm the regent had
never seen in his brother before. That look, that air of grim resolve, frightened Numar far more than anything the duke had said to him.
I know more than you think I do
, it seemed to be telling him.
I know things you don’t
. Henthas had always been the least formidable of the brothers Renbrere, weaker than Grigor and Carden, with little of their intelligence. But he was still Tomaz the Ninth’s son, and thus a far more dangerous foe than nearly any other man in Aneira. Could he have finally mastered the art of court politics? Could he have discovered a path to power that Numar had missed?

The regent forced a smile. “We’re being foolish, brother. Father wouldn’t have wanted us to work at cross-purposes.”

Henthas actually laughed. “And would Father have wanted to see Grigor executed so that you could claim the regency?” He shook his head again. “This is a strange time for you to start worrying about what Father would and wouldn’t have wanted.”

“All right. I don’t want you as an enemy.”

The duke stood, still grinning. “It may be too late for that.”

“I’ve already offered you the lands of Dantrielle. What more do you want?”

“I’m not convinced that Dantrielle is yours to offer. To be honest, I’m not certain that you’re in a position to offer me anything at all.”

“You’re wrong,” Numar said. “Long after those who oppose me have fallen, I’ll still be leading this realm, as regent, or as king.”

“You haven’t the faintest idea who opposes you, brother, much less how to defeat them. I’ll enjoy watching the battle, however. I’ll enjoy watching you fail.”

There was a knock at the door, but for several moments they merely held each other’s gaze, neither of them moving. The knock came a second time and Henthas leered at him.

“Duty calls, brother.”

“Yes, who is it?” Numar demanded.

“The archminister,” came the reply. “Queen Kalyi is with me. She wishes to speak with you.”

Henthas looked like he might laugh once more. “You should see yourself now, Numar. You truly believe that playing nursemaid to the girl doesn’t weaken you in the eyes of your dukes? Just look in any mirror.” He reached for the door handle. “When you find the time.”

The duke opened the door, revealing Pronjed and the young queen. Seeing Henthas, Kalyi shied away, hiding behind the minister as if she
expected the duke to make an attempt on her life right there. From the beginning of the regency, Numar had taken care in his conversations with the girl to portray Henthas as a threat, as a man who would murder her, despite their blood relation, to satisfy his ambitions. Chofya had done the same, he knew, though out of a sincere belief that her warnings were justified. Clearly, the girl had taken these admonitions to heart.

The minister stepped into the chamber, urging Kalyi to follow. “Lord Rembrere,” he said nodding to the regent. Then, to Henthas, he added an icy, “My lord.”

“Archminister,” Numar said, mustering another strained smile and wondering if his brother was right after all. He bowed to Kalyi, who could barely bring herself to tear her eyes from Henthas. “Your Highness.”