Kingslayer (52 page)

No. More likely, arguing with Behnam for the past fours was really to blame.

The man had a good point, as much as he hated to admit it. He really wouldn’t be able to get all of his men home without more supplies or the money to buy those supplies. Really, he needed both, as he couldn’t buy everything on the way home. Those fools on the Council no doubt thought that Behnam wouldn’t be in this situation because he would undoubtedly defeat Darius and proceed directly to the capital.

But getting him supplies and funds would mean contacting Tresea and haggling with her over the proper amount, which would take time, as she would undoubtedly refuse the idea as Darius initially had. And
then
, when he did get her to agree, it would take
more
time to collect those supplies and that money and transport it all here. All of that translated to
more delays.

Why,
why
had he promised fair terms of surrender?

“Ah.” Behnam snapped his fingers as another thought occurred to him. “And one more thing—”

Darius’s hand moved so quickly, so automatically, that no around him had the time to react. His hand reached for the sword leaning against the table and he drew it in a smooth motion, like a viper striking, the blade ending up against the side of Behnam’s neck. The general froze, eyes nervously regarding the three feet of steel hovering near his throat.

“Behnam,” Darius growled in dark voice, sounding like death itself, “let me make this clear. I left behind a wife I love very much, a wife that is heavy with child, our
first
child. She’s due to give birth in three weeks. If you make me miss that birth, I will not be a happy man. It is in your best interest to speed this matter up.”

Behnam raised a hand and cautiously pushed the sword away from his throat before answering. “I’ll give you all of our equipment in return. It’s worth quite a bit. Surely that will balance the scales?”

Actually, the Brindisian armor had a superior grade to it. Niotan badly needed to replace their armor and swords anyway. The trade was a fair one. Now if he could only get Tresea to see it that way when she still had to give money and supplies out of pocket…. “Let’s hope that My Queen agrees with you.”

“You’ll charm her into it,” Behnam said confidently. “You’re good at that.”

 “If I miss the birth of my first child because of you, I’m coming for
your
head.”

Behnam waved him down, a smile on his face. “You’ll make it, you’ll make it. You have a month to spare, don’t you? It’ll be fine.”

Darius slammed his sword back home and seriously considered killing the man after all.

Mihr cleared his throat. “In the interest of everyone leaving this room alive, I have a proposition to make. Bresalier, I believe you have been on duty for over nine months this year?”

He blinked at this question, which came out of thin air. “Err, somewhere close to that, yes.”

Raising a finger, Mihr tsked him. “I’m afraid, General, that it is Niotan policy that no general may serve for more than six months out of the year unless the Queen has overridden that policy. Did she issue such a command to you?”

Having a feeling where this was going, Darius swallowed and responded hopefully, “She did not.”

“Then I’m afraid that as the most senior general here, I must relieve you of command and take over from this point on.” Mihr couldn’t quite subdue a smile at this point.

Take over days, perhaps weeks, of negotiations and arguing? Darius had to firmly hold on to himself to avoid jumping for joy. “I quite understand,” he somehow said seriously. “In that case, I wish you gentlemen the best of luck.” Before anyone could rethink this, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the door.

“Oh, and send the Baiji horsemen home, would you?” Mihr called after him. “They won’t listen to me for some reason.”

Darius paused at the door long enough to give him a salute of acknowledgement before quickly disappearing from the room.

The veranda in their estate home had somehow gained padded benches and shade trees and awnings in the six months he had been gone. It had become a much more restful place, a quiet space that a person could escape to when they wanted to avoid people and the sun. Darius quite liked it and if he had a choice, this particular bench in the shade of a mimosa tree was where he would be.

After the noon meal had ended, he’d volunteered to put the baby down for a nap and then absconded with her to this open veranda. There were times, like today, when it felt too surreal to him. After a lifetime of war, having a home and a wife and a daughter without another war hanging overhead seemed too good to be true. When that happened, he came out here with a baby sleeping in one arm and a letter from a king in the other.

Darius ignored the open view of his lands that lay before him and leaned back into the bench at a comfortable slant. With the ease of long practice, he unrolled the letter from King Baros with one hand and held it up so he could re-read it.

Darius-

You might find it strange that I am writing to you personally like this. And perhaps it is strange. But I have reported to you, my mentor, for so many years that I find I cannot completely break the habit.

The last night that we saw each other, we gave each other orders: I ordered you to live. You ordered me to be a better king than my father and to not repeat his mistakes. I wish now that I had hearkened to your words the way that you hearkened to mine. You have indeed lived and done so more fully than you have ever done within my court. Behnam tells me that you are married and have a child now. I wish you joy in them. Heaven knows you’ve earned that happiness.

Losing your wise counsel has cost me dearly. Closing the campaign at Serrati I believe was inevitable—we never had a chance of winning it—but doing it has suggested a weakness to my enemies. Of course, that weakness became more blatant when the force I sent against you was repelled not once but thrice! The conquering habits of my family have now endangered what I hold. I have issued orders to stop all campaigns and I have recalled my armies to protect what I still have. I pray that it is not too late to heed your advice.

To that end, I have sent a proposal of treaty and trade agreements to your new queen. I tried to make them fair, as I do not have time to banter back and forth for months until we have reached an agreement, but I do not know her well enough to guess what she wants. I ask that you intermediate if I have failed to give her the terms she seeks. You know me and what Brindisi can offer—come up with terms we can both agree to and I will sign.

I miss you sorely, old friend. Know that I do not blame you for the death of my father. It only saddens me that because of it, we cannot see each other again in this lifetime.

I wish upon you continuing happiness.

Baros

Darius let the letter fall into his lap, where it automatically tried to roll back up again. He had received that letter two months ago. Tresea had received his proposed treaty at the same time. Baros had indeed been fair, and after a few minor corrections, Tresea had signed it and sent it back to him. Darius hadn’t even needed to really intervene.

The events of the world had come to him in reports from the Niotan spies and in rumors through the markets. Baros was indeed losing his grip on the countries that his father had conquered. Rumor had it that Arape had started gathering an army together. At this point, it wouldn’t take much resistance to win their independence back. The loss at Niotan had cost Baros dearly not just in terms of reputation but in manpower. He did not have the strength or numbers to defend himself on every front.

What Darius foresaw two years ago was coming true. Unless Baros pulled some miracle out of thin air, then the Brindisi Sovran would fall during his reign.

 “Darius?” Amalah’s voice came from within the house, sounding a little breathless and worried, her voice accompanied by quick footsteps. “Darius, where are you?”

“Out here!” he called softly, hoping his voice would carry from the veranda.

“Do you have the baby? I can’t find her anyw—” At that moment Amalah rounded the doorframe and stepped into view. She stopped abruptly, taking in the sight with exasperation. “You
do
have her.”

He knew good and well he was in trouble for having his daughter at that moment but after being apart from his family for six months, it was hard to stay away from either of his girls for long. Especially his daughter. Many people scoffed at the idea of love at first sight, but the love that a parent has for a child is exactly that. Darius had taken one look at his little girl and become hopelessly besotted with her. And at four months old, she had already figured that out and started manipulating him to her little heart’s desire.

“Darius.” Amalah tried to sound patient, but this was the third time she’d caught him outside with a sleeping baby on his chest, and her toe tapped in an irritated rhythm. “We have to teach her how to sleep properly in a bed or we’ll pay for it later.”

“But she cries if I put her down!” he objected.

“Yes, that’s how she’s training you,” his wife responded with an expressive roll of the eyes. “You give her
anything
when she cries.”

Parisa stirred against his chest, as if sensing somehow that her parents were arguing about her. Darius set the letter aside and lifted a hand to her back and rubbed it in light, soothing circles.

“Most of the time she doesn’t even have to cry,” Amalah added pointedly.

Darius drew himself up a little, attempting to regain some dignity. “My love, I learned from an early age a very important lesson from my father.”

Amalah gave him a look that said,
Oh, this should be good.

He raised a righteous finger to illustrate his point. “The first duty of a father is to spoil his daughters.”

“Well, you’re doing an
admirable
job,” Amalah informed him dryly. “But your spoiling session is over for the day. Queen Tresea has sent a request to see you. She wants your opinion on how to properly organize her navy.”

Darius frowned at her even as he left his comfortable chair. Was Tresea seriously thinking about using the navy to defend her merchant vessels against pirates, then? It would certainly be a better use of them than having them aimlessly sail around Izeh Port, but… “I don’t know anything about navies. Why does she want my opinion?”

“Probably because you’re her lead general.” Amalah reached out with both hands. “Now, give her here.”

Darius ignored her open arms and regarded the baby still contentedly asleep on his chest. He was pretty sure he could talk and hold a baby at the same time. Surely no one would mind if he just brought her along….

“And no, you may
not
take her to the meeting with you,” Amalah drawled, a twinkle of laughter in her eyes.

Well, the meeting probably
would
take several hours. That might get troublesome, later, trying to take care of a baby and talk. Not to mention he wasn’t sure if he could ride Sohrab and carry a baby at the same time. Resigned, he handed her over to Amalah, who took her with practiced ease. Parisa didn’t so much as twitch at the exchange.

Resigned, he scooped up his letter and rolled it back into shape, efficiently tying the leather cord back around it. Then he leaned down long enough to give his wife a gentle kiss. “I’ll try to be back by tomorrow morning.”

“Alright.” She smiled up at him. “Have a good time?”

“Oh, you funny, funny woman,” he groused as he headed for the door. “As if these things are
ever
fun.” He heard her laughing at that, but steadfastly ignored her as he called for Sohrab to be saddled and a bodyguard to go with him.

If endless meetings were the price for peace, he’d gladly pay it.

About eight months ago I had this amazing dream about a man that killed a king because of a broken oath. It was incredibly vivid and I was spellbound by the story. It even came with names—the name of the story and the name of the main character. (My subconscious doesn’t always give me names with the story so when it does, I sit up and pay attention.)