Kingmaker (33 page)

But remembering Arnold gave her an idea. “Okay, so neither of us want to be King. What about Arnold?"

Mark looked startled. “As King?"

"He's honorable. Unlike Sergius, if he agreed to a parliament, he'd deliver. And the royal family and nobility are so inbred we could probably come up with some reason why he's the legitimate king."

"You're forgetting something, Ellie. He's still loyal to Sergius. Even if we made him king, his honor would require that his first official act be to abdicate."

Mark was right, but Ellie wasn't about to give up on her idea. She strode toward the two-story house that she'd transformed into her home, letting Mark tag along. “He'll come around. Sergius is going to declare him traitor. In this culture, fealty is a two-way street. When Sergius turns on Arnold, Arnold will be freed of his vows."

"Maybe.” Mark opened the door to her house and followed her inside. “But no matter what happens, Arnold won't be king. He has a living father, you know. Ranolf would be the legitimate heir."

Ellie ignored him. “And if you married Shalla or Jeneen, you'd be a prince. Not a bad deal."

"Shalla? You're kidding."

His reaction surprised her. She'd been certain he had a crush on one of those girls. He almost looked horrified.

He managed to gasp, “watch out,” but by then it was too late.

She'd gotten too involved in listening to Mark, caring about his reactions. She had gotten careless.

They didn't catch her completely off-guard. Mark's look and gasp warned her.

She dropped her armor and helmet and reached for her katana. But she knew she was being too slow.

The two assassins sprang at her simultaneously, their swords already drawn.

She caught one with a kick to the gut, shoving him back and giving her space to draw her sword. She was going to die, but with luck, she could take one of these killers with her.

Her back crawled as it waited for the impact of the second assassin's sword. She forced down her reaction. When it happened, it would happen.

The assassin she'd kicked straightened, waved his sword in her direction, and charged.

She sidestepped, blocked, and caught him with the flat of her sword on the side of his head as he ran by.

He stumbled into the still body of his colleague and collapsed.

Ellie shifted her sword into high guard and looked around.

The killer she'd hit lay unconscious. Blood gushed from his partner where he'd been stabbed in the gut.

"What the—"

"You didn't think I'd just let them kill you, did you, Ellie?” Mark asked. He held his sword away from his body in a guard. Blood dripped from his sword and from a gash in his cheek.

"But—"

"I know. You're used to thinking of me as a nerd who might know something about tactics because I used to read a bunch of history books but who's worthless in a real fight. Hate to spoil those preconceptions.” He turned and headed for the door. “Oh, by the way, bring the one you knocked out by headquarters. I don't suppose we'll learn anything but we might as well question him."

"But Mark—"

But Mark was gone.

Ellie stared down at the corpse and the still breathing but unconscious body of the second assassin but her mind was on Mark. What had gotten him so steamed up? It took a lot longer than a couple of months to make a swordsman. Her father claimed it took twenty years and that she wasn't nearly there yet. So of course Mark was still a beginner. Not that he was completely incompetent, as he'd just proven, but nobody was going to mistake him for a really top-notch fencer.

Mark had never seemed vain or even especially worried about what other people thought about him. She knew that something important had just happened but she couldn't figure out what the heck she had said or done, or what she could have done differently.

She kicked the apparently dead assassin to make sure he wasn't faking it, then cut some strips off the dead man's clothing and secured the living one.

He was moaning slightly by the time she'd finished tying his arms to his neck in a knot that would increasingly choke him if he tried to get his hands free.

So she kicked him in the ribs.

"Uh."

"Who sent you?"

He hawked and she kicked him again before he had a chance to spit at her. “All right, I'll do it Mark's way. Come on. I'm going to turn you over to the army."

The assassin wouldn't talk.

Still, there was no disguising the freshly minted gold coins, each with Sergius's face on the front and the five-pointed star of the faith on the reverse.

He had come from the capital. Whether he'd been sent by Sergius himself, by one of the uncles, or by the bishop didn't really matter.

Mark assembled their leaders and let them blow off steam.

"Our ninja are trained killers,” Lart argued. “We need to set them loose. Kill Sergius, the uncles and the bishop. Then we'd be able to walk into Moray without having to fight at all."

Ellie shuddered. A year ago, she might have bought that argument. Been willing to believe that a single assassination could save the lives of thousands of soldiers. But that had been before Harrison had sent his men through the dimensions and murdered her parents. And before this attempt on her own life.

"Assassination is not honorable,” Arnold announced.

"Everyone knows you're still loyal to that killer,” Lart muttered.

"That isn't the point,” Mark said. “By Lubica standards, supporting the peasants and workers against the aristocracy is dishonorable."

"But assassination is different,” Ellie put in. She didn't know exactly how to explain this, beyond her personal feelings. But she knew she was right.

Mark nodded. “Sorry, I wasn't done. But you're right. It is different. Our goal isn't the simple defeat of Sergius and the replacement of one king with another. We need to establish a legitimate base for the political changes we're attempting to bring about. If our methods create a horror even in the people we're fighting this war for, our goals will be tainted. We'll set back the path toward democracy rather than further it."

"But Sergius started it.” Lart knotted his knuckles in a grip that would have choked the life out of any assassin foolish enough to get close.

Ellie looked around the table. The army had taken over the Duke's palace near the citadel. Unlike the medieval hulk of the keep, the palace was a renaissance style building with high ceilings, airy windows, and a conference room that would have made the most important Earth-bound CEO green with envy.

Lart's face was turning purple as he wrestled for self-control. Arnold looked thoughtful. More thoughtful than she had ever seen him. Most of the former bandits simply looked confused, and Mark looked confident.

"I agree with Mark,” she said. “Harrison began this campaign when he assassinated my parents and tried to kill me. Now he, or his allies, has tried again. He, Sergius, and Sullivan have no claim to mercy and no right to object should we reply in kind. But, if we do, we'll announce to the world that we're no better than they are."

"Fighting a war is going to get a lot of good lads killed. Women too,” Lart reminded the assembled captains. “So what if people think we're a little dirty. I've got friends in the army. I'd be willing to have strangers look at me funny and think I'm dishonorable if it kept them alive."

"That's the point,” Ellie explained. “If we simply assassinate Sergius and the others, we won't avoid war. Some aristocrat will announce that he's the legitimate heir and he'll continue the war. Sergius's army will be intact and spoiling for revenge. But even suppose we could follow up assassination with a coup while no one was looking? What do you think Rissel would do? What do you think the church will do? We'll be under interdiction, attacked by every nation on the continent. And every noble and half of the peasants and workers would be helping them."

Lart shook his head. “But Sergius can get away with it. That isn't right."

It wasn't right, but it was the truth. Sergius not only had a bigger army, he had a veneer of legitimacy that allowed him to get away with, well, murder.

And there was nothing Ellie could do about it.

That was something she intended to change.

Snow muffled the sounds of Harrison City.

Ellie snuggled under her thick down comforter and tried to find the energy to get up and throw some wood on the fire.

It had been snowing for three days now and it didn't look like it was ever going to stop.

The worst part was, the blizzard wasn't quite enough to cut communication with the rest of the country. Despite the redoubled efforts of the new city guards, three more teams of assassins had infiltrated the city. One had wounded Mark. The others had come after her. And died.

The muffled sound from outside could have been snow falling from the peaked roof of her cozy half-timber house. But it could be something else as well.

She slipped out of bed, her bare feet almost burning from the cold where they touched the icy floor. She picked up her sword first and then arranged a couple of pillows under the comforter.

Drawing her sword, she stepped next to the door.

There was supposed to be a guard outside. Mark had insisted on that after the second assassination attempt. But that didn't mean she was safe.

Her door edged open and a cloaked figure slipped into the room.

Her katana swept down, almost as if under its own volition.

And the intruder blocked it.

"I don't have time for games."

Arnold? She didn't want to believe that he would become an assassin, but he'd given his word not to escape. He hadn't promised anything about not harming them.

"You think you're ready to take me?” she demanded. She stepped back, shifting her guard. Arnold hadn't had to spend most of the past couple of months in meetings or as a judge. He'd worked out on the practice field, training with the best of their army's swordsmen. Honing his skills while her own talents rusted.

He was good. He might well be able to defeat her.

But she wasn't going to make things easy for her.

She stomped a feint, extended, and thrust.

Arnold knocked her blade away and, instead of countering, jumped back. “I'm not here to kill you, Ellie. I want to talk."

"That's why you snuck into my room in the middle of the night?” She didn't lower her guard but she didn't attack either.

"It isn't the middle of the night. It's just dark because of the snow. And I didn't sneak in. I was knocking for about five minutes."

Which might explain the muffled sounds she'd heard. Not snow falling from the eves after all, but Arnold trying to get her attention.

Maybe. She knew Arnold well enough to know that he could lie if he had to, if he felt his duty required it of him.

"All right. Stay on your side of the room. I'm listening."

She also wasn't putting her sword down. Crossing the room would take Arnold less than a quarter of a second.

"Do you want to put on some more clothes?"

"You want to talk to me about my wardrobe?” At least she hadn't been sleeping naked. A year in an army camp had cured her of that affectation from Earth. Of course, Lubica was a lot colder than Los Angeles.

"I get distracted."

She looked down and saw what the cold had done to her body. The flannel of her long nightgown didn't hide the chilled peaks of her nipples.

"Get out and I'll put something warmer on."

She didn't think he'd go, but he did.

If he thought she'd strip and give him a chance to strike when her face was covered by yards of fabric, he was mistaken.

She pulled a heavy robe over the nightgown, passing her katana from one hand to the other but definitely not putting it down.

"All right, you can come back in now,” she said.

He'd sheathed his sword—another good sign.

"Dafed arrived with news from the capital."

"Dafed? Here?"

Arnold nodded impatiently. “You can meet with him later. But Sergius has moved against my father."

"Is Ranolf all right?"

Arnold slammed a fist into the plaster wall of her bedroom. “Of course he's not all right. He's surrounded by Sergius's army. And it's because of me. If I hadn't had my head swelled with my honor, I could have gone back to Moray with the citadel guards. I was as good as inviting Sergius to attack me. And we both knew it."

She nodded. “Sit down, Arnold."

"I can't sit down. I've got to do something."

"Sit your butt down in that chair. We need to talk."

She could tell he didn't want to, but he finally complied.

"Here's the deal, Arnold. Sergius fooled us. He puts on this act of being a good guy and being honorable, but he's a snake, looking out for himself no matter who gets hurt. You can't make deals with snakes. I made a deal with him about the parliament and that bought me a spell as a Rissel prisoner."

"I know that. But this is my father."

"Do you really think I don't understand?” For her, this entire nightmare had started when they'd killed her father.

Arnold waved that away. “So you've got to free me from my parole. My father needs me to help him defend his Barony."

"We can't spare the forces to help Ranolf,” Ellie said. “If you went alone, Sergius would only kill you too."

Arnold's eyes looked half-crazed. “Do you think I care whether I live or die? He's my father, Ellie. And my sisters are with him. Sergius will kill him for sure. And either kill my sisters or give them to whatever of his knights he wants to reward. If I go and I die, he might be satisfied."

"Let's go talk to Mark.” Ellie walked over to her closet and pulled out a pair of pants and tunic. “You're reacting emotionally. I can understand that. But, you've got to do the best thing for your father, for your sisters, for yourself, and for Lubica."

"What's Lubica got to do with it?"

That was part of the problem, of course. The idea of a nation was still largely undeveloped here. Which was why Rissel could occupy significant parts of the country without any strong outcry from the people. In a way, Ellie figured that was to the good. She could think of plenty of examples from Earth history where jingoistic nationalism had led countries into needless wars. But they needed people to start thinking more broadly. She intended to start with Arnold.