Read By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) Online
Authors: David Houpt
“Escort Soril back to his establishment,” Constans ordered one of his men, and waited for the fat man to depart, sputtering protests and outrage.
“We both know, I think, the truth of the matter,” Constans said, producing a small card. “Please assure your captains that the matter is settled in the eyes of the law, but that your men are forbidden to go near the Fair Winds or any establishment on that street. I’d like to avoid possible grudge fights.”
“I’ll make sure that your orders are understood and obeyed, Lieutenant,” Lian replied, bowing to the officer in the manner of Staikal yeomanry, “though I maintain that our men are nowhere near the Fair Winds.”
“Of course,” Constans said, with a tight smile, “and they never were. I imagine that, if we were to visit the Crimson Hood, we would find some of your crew there, who had been there all evening?”
“That is the simple truth, sir,” Lian said earnestly.
Constans offered his hand, which Lian took, “Personally, I don’t mind a brawl, as long as it stays under control. From what I see here, you did the right thing all around, and be sure to tell your captains I said so. Peace and good night, Alan.”
“Gods watch your path, Lieutenant,” Lian returned.
The crewmen all claimed that they hadn’t started the brawl, but did confirm that they had certainly participated in it. Lian confined them belowdeck until the captains returned, except for Alo. “Good work, Alo,” he said, “or we’d have had half our remaining crew locked up for gods know how long.”
“That’s why I came running, Mr. Alan,” he said. “But I’m curious why you didn’t go after them yourself.”
Lian said, “I needed to be here, and not short of breath, if the guard showed up to check on our story. I’m just glad they don’t use magical communication devices, or they’d have had a squad down here guarding the plank before Nan could make it back with the men.
“Also, I couldn’t abandon my post, however I felt about the matter. It worked out fine,” he continued. “If Constans had been a different sort, things could have gotten troublesome, to say the least.”
Alo nodded and added an expletive in his native tongue.
Cedrick, Arden, and Reidar returned just before midnight, and Lian gave them a full report, followed by Nan’s account of their rescue. Cedrick looked furious, and went below to address the men after commending Alo for keeping his head about him.
“Good job, son,” Arden said to Lian. “Better work than we did tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Not much luck finding crewmen, sir?” Lian asked.
Arden shook his head, “Hired one man who sailed with Cedrick a long time ago, but it was the same story all over the taverns. ‘
Searcher
is cursed, and I don’t need the work that badly.’” He uttered his own colorful curse.
“Would it be better to sail to one of the other islands and hire there?”
“No, I don’t think we’d have any better luck elsewhere. A story like this spreads faster than we can sail. I guess we’ll have to go buy the crew, like we discussed. At least Cedrick has a first mate, again. You’ll like him, but don’t let his scars put you off. If he comes aboard before you’re relieved, his name is Olaf.”
“Yes, sir,” Lian said.
“Again, good job,” Arden said, yawning widely. “I’m glad Nan didn’t kill anyone.”
“Me, too, sir,” Lian laughed. “I warned her not to before they left, but I didn’t know how well that instruction would take.”
“She’s got good judgment unless she’s really angry. Then, there’s not a force on board save some of Reidar’s spells that can restrain her. If that happens, don’t get between her and an enemy, Alan. She doesn’t always recognize her friends.”
Arden went to his cabin, leaving Lian in command after commenting that he’d better send a gift of some sort to Constans just to be sure the matter was settled. Below, he could hear Cedrick chastising his men, and thought that shore leave had probably been canceled for the men in question for the rest of this trip. Moving up to the stern deck, he saw that Nan and Snog were both dozing, leaning against the base of the ballista. Leaving them to sleep, he stood by the wheel and thought.
He’d been driven by true concern over the well-being of the crew, not simply by duty. Like it or not, he was becoming fond of
Searcher
and her men and women.
No one but Sileth even knows that I’m here, and so long as I keep the Key with me, no one will
, he thought to himself.
I could certainly find worse people to work for. This isn’t too bad a life, and it will keep me on the move until I can decide what to do with my life beyond making it through the night with my throat unslit.
The last few nights had been dreamless, a welcome respite from his continual nightmares, and he felt less hunted and pressured now. His identity as Alan of Staikal was unlikely to be compromised. Arden’s company would teach him the things he needed to know, and he could always leave the group later if their journeys didn’t coincide with his plans.
He thought that Arden and Cedrick wouldn’t turn him in even if they discovered how much Rishak was offering for him, and he tended to trust his judgment of people.
Yes, Arden’s band would be a good place to hide, a place where his talents could be honed and his plan devised in secret. For a plan he needed, one strong enough to unseat a king, usurper that he was. A plan clever enough to entrap a sorceress who was unbound by mores or ethics.
A plan to avenge his family’s slaughter without destroying the country that was his birthright.
And time and allies enough to afford him the chance to take his revenge and live to enjoy it.
Epilogue
“The smallest fang can hide the quickest death.”
-- Goblin proverb
“Your Majesties,” said the man, bowing deeply before the marble double throne. He tried to ignore the phalanx of guards, some of them armed with loaded crossbows.
They’re not the dangerous ones, anyhow
, he told himself, thinking of the vast powers commanded by the woman in the left-hand seat.
“It is our dearest hope, Coman, that you have brought us encouraging news,” said the man who sat in the right-hand seat, the seat reserved for the reigning monarch.
Coman nervously fingered the sash of his robe, the sky-blue ribbon denoting him as the royal seer. His immediate predecessor had met with a tragic and untimely end. “The only word I can report to Your Majesties is that the situation has not improved. The subject,” he said, for the command not to speak the prince’s name had been proven a dangerous one to break, “cannot be located by any means at our disposal.”
The usurper-queen said, “Any means?”
Coman nodded, growing frightened despite his best efforts, “Yes, Your Majesty. We have enlisted many of the mages who now occupy Firavon’s Tower, and despite their aid we remain unsuccessful.” The dark mages who were Rishak’s allies had employed demons and dark spirits, feeding them prisoners taken during the coup d’êtat. Coman, as the royal seer, had been forced to witness these sacrifices, and he was sure that his hair was now falling out nightly.
He was glad that he could shift partial blame onto the heads of others.
Rishak frowned deeply, but held his hand up to gently forestall his queen, who had been about to speak again. “What conclusion do you draw about the lack of success in locating him? We know that you found Khiseveth’s Eye and other powerful scrying aids. You
should
have been able to find him, no?”
“Oh, yes, Your Majesty,” he said, on more familiar ground now that he could theorize about the
why
of the failure. “Given the generous nature of the sacrifices you have made available, one or more of the seers and soothsayers, myself included, should have been able to find some trace of him.
“There are only two possibilities, Your Highness,” he continued, his voice steadying.
“The first is that the subject has fled this plane of existence by some dimensional magic that we are unable to trace. We find this unlikely, since the former master of assassins would most likely have trained the subject to stay in the game, so to speak.
“The second is that the subject is shielded by magics so powerful that we cannot breach them. This second possibility, as far-fetched as it sounds, is the more likely one in my view. We have approached the Sleepless One herself, through her priests, of course. Her high priestess, Wynoln, informed me that even the One-Eyed Crone will not surrender his location.” It was Coman’s hope that the monarchs would find no fault in him, a mere mortal, when the gods themselves were no more helpful.
Coman didn’t believe for a moment that the Sleepless One, the Goddess of Seers and his own patron goddess, didn’t know the prince’s location. He merely believed that it amused her to keep the information secret for now, and when it suited her, for whatever reason, suddenly all of their efforts would be met with success.
He carefully did not remind the two usurpers that divining was an uncertain science, for that had been his predecessor’s mistake. True, he’d made the observation when Jisa was particularly tired and irritable, but Coman had always considered himself to be more cautious than the late and unlamented Rymna.
“So you are telling us that your plan is to keep searching, and hope that the clouds which obscure the target are lifted?” Jisa asked, her voice the epitome of sweetness and light. Coman didn’t fall for the ruse.
“I fear, truly, Your Majesties, that Her Exalted Highness has the right of it,” he said, putting a slight mournful note in his voice, being careful, deadly careful, not to overdo it.
“Then is it not true that any seer or oracle could do the job as well as you, and simply keep searching?” she asked, just as sweetly.
“My love,” Rishak warned. “Do not needlessly frighten the royal seer, for we have true need of him.”
Too late for that
, thought Coman, stifling the urge to giggle hysterically.
“Coman, we expect you to continue your efforts to find him. The stability of the transition, we’re sure you agree, depends upon finding him.” That was true, on a variety of levels.
“I do understand the situation entirely, Your Majesty,” Coman replied. “Believe me when I tell Your Majesties that everything that can be done is being done.”
“Make certain that is true, Coman,” replied the usurper-king, dismissing the seer with a wave and taking his wife’s hand.
Once Coman had departed, Jisa frowned deeply and said, “He will be trouble for us if we don’t find him. Give me permission. It’s perfectly obvious these soothsayers can’t do the job, Rish.”
With a heavy sigh, Rishak turned to the woman who was his wife. “It can never be known, what you propose to do. Such a thing would raise the nobles against us, whether they have the power to raise a rebellion or not.”
“I am aware of the risks, love,” she said, her eyes flashing annoyance at being challenged, even by him. Her impatience softened, however, as she realized that he was going to decide in her favor. “But if even the Lady of Seers won’t reveal to us where to find him, I don’t see another choice.
“Unless you wish to let him go?” she asked sardonically.
His gaze snapped to hers. “You know that’s out of the question. You have your permission, woman. I’m perfectly aware that you’ve already made the arrangements, and had the bodies placed in your conjuring room. I’m not a squeamish man, you know, but the thought of what you are planning to do chills me to the bone.”
Jisa, now queen of Dunshor, smiled. “It chills me, too, husband. And I confess that it thrills me, as well. But it is the only choice.
“And Lian’s death will follow,” she said, laughing as she rose to begin her task.
After she was gone, Rishak whispered, “But at what cost?
“What cost?” The crown of Dunshor had been his for only a short time, yet it seemed that it already supported the weight of worlds upon it.
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