Prince of Wrath (30 page)

“What, and ruin our wonderful friendship, Governor? Perish the thought.” Demtro smiled as Evas stood up, ready to buckle on his sword.

At last, something was going to be done in Niake.

The argument in the empress’s day chamber was getting quite heated. None of the three participants were backing down on any of their stances. Isbel had begun sitting in her chair but she had now stood up and was angrily facing her furious step-daughter who had refused to take a chair in the first place.

Standing slightly back was Jorqel who was also showing signs of anger. His was mainly borne out of frustration but his arguments were having to take second place to the full-blown cat-fight that had suddenly erupted between the two women.

“I am empress,” Isbel stabbed her long finger down on her desk top, “and my word is law here in this palace, not yours, Amne!”

“Not for much longer, mother,” Amne spat back. “When you and father leave this place I’m going to make sure every stupid rule that you’ve imposed on us all here is torn up and thrown away, never to be shown the light of day ever again!”

“That won’t be your decision either, daughter,” Isbel snarled, her eyes almost like slits. “You’ll be deferring to Elas’ decisions. You won’t be in charge here, thank the gods!”

“Him!” Amne shouted, her voice dripping with contempt, “he’ll have the place turned into a mausoleum or a temple to the gods. If you think I’m going to stand by idly and watch him do that then you’ve got another think coming!”

“You will obey your husband, Amne Koros, or you’ll find yourself sent to a temple’s rest home by force!”

“Can we forget this nonsense and return to the real issues, please?” Jorqel shouted, placing himself in between the two snarling women. “What are we going to do about Argan?”

“In a moment, Jorqel!” Amne shouted. “I’m not going to be a submissive rug like you want me to, mother, especially to a corpse like that! You may wish to whimper and crawl to that humourless kind of man but by all the gods I certainly will not. He has the passion and desire of a castrated herd-beast. Do you understand what my life is going to be like with someone like that for the rest of my days?”

“Amne, you are going to do what you know is right for not only him, but to our House, the empire and the reputation of the Koros. Those things are far more important than your so-called happiness.” Isbel glared at her step-daughter.

“I am marrying him, but that doesn’t mean I have to be the perfect example of what you consider the ideal simpering wife!” Amne yelled. “I need love, passion, excitement! A purpose!”

“Your purpose is to produce children for the empire,” Isbel snapped.

“From him?” Amne almost shrieked. “If he’s anything like being as good a lover as he is at conversation and humour then I’m going to be asleep through the entire procedure!”

“Amne! Don’t be so crude!” Isbel screamed.

“Enough!” Jorqel interrupted. “I’m tired of this senseless argument. Your son, mother, is gravely ill. What are we going to do about him? He cannot attend the wedding, therefore it stands that he’s too ill to travel to Zofela. He must stay here.”

“He is to come with your father and me to Bragal, Jorqel. I have spoken.”

“Father has not, and once he sees Argan he’s going to overrule you, that I am certain of,” Jorqel said.

“And you will have to defer to your husband,” Amne said nastily.

“Amne, enough,” Jorqel said softly to his sister.

Amne looked sharply at her brother, then huffed noisily and nodded. “I agree with Jorqel. Argan is too poorly to go on that horrible journey to Zofela. I’ve been on it recently and those roads are in an appalling state.”

Isbel looked doubtfully at Amne. “When I was last there the roads seemed fine. No, I think you’re exaggerating just to back up your argument.”

“Jorqel?” Amne turned to her brother.

The Prince gave the empress a stern look. “You were last there before the civil war and the Bragal uprising. So much was destroyed there; farms, villages, livestock, roads. It’s almost as if we have to build from scratch again. You’ll discover that when you travel. Why do you think it’s taken messages twice as long to get here from Zofela direct as it has from Zofela via Turslenka? The roads are gone, that’s why. It was bad enough four years ago when I was last there, but Amne here has seen it very recently. Sorry mother but I shall insist to father not to allow Argan to travel on that route.”

Isbel scowled, drumming her fingers on the desk. Slowly she sat down. “Then he shall travel on the Turslenka road. The road to Makenia is paved; we made sure of that in our first year in power, remember? That road is the best in the entire empire; I trust both of you would have no objection to that?”

“As far as Turslenka, no,” Jorqel said before Amne could object. He felt her stiffen in outrage beside him, but he continued. Best he hold the conversation than his hot-headed sister. “But beyond that – the road to Bragal is through the Storma Valley and that isn’t great, and then there’s the road through the Bakran Mountains. Also once through there the roads deteriorate as you’re then in Bragal. Same effect.”

Amne relaxed. Isbel looked stubborn. “I shall insist he’s brought to Bragal. He must be with me!”

“Not if it kills him,” Jorqel said. “I shall speak with the apothecary and with father. It appears this issue cannot be sensibly determined after all.” He grabbed a chair and sat down, waving to his sister to do the same. It was less confrontational. “I have to regretfully say that I shan’t be able to attend the post-marriage celebrations.” He had been putting off the news for as long as he could but it couldn’t be delayed any longer. Amne had to know.

“Oh, why’s that, Jorq?” Amne said, her face stricken.

“Sorry, sis, but events in Bathenia are very serious and I must go as quickly as possible. I’ve ordered the army to slip out of Slenna this very evening and march to Efsia. There, Admiral Fostan will be waiting with his ships to transport them to Aconia. They will remain there until I join them, and then we’re to march on the road to Niake and hopefully by then we will have learned of the location of this Lombert Soul’s camp. I have to be on the Niake road very soon because I suspect the rebels will act sooner rather than later.”

Amne looked almost as if she were going to cry. Isbel laced her fingers. “Do you have to go so soon? Why not wait a day or so? You should at least be there for your sister.”

Jorqel kissed Amne on the cheek. “Duty, mother. Something you insist on Amne following. Well, I too, have my duty. I have to sneak out at night to fool the enemy spies. By now news of my arrival here would have filtered back to the Duras and this black-hearted brigand Soul, and they will think now is the time to strike. What they do not know is that my army will be between them and Niake within four days and I must be there at their head. Four days. That’s the day after the wedding. If I can reach my army undetected, then surprise is on my side.”

“Can’t it wait?” Isbel asked. “One day surely?”

“Mother,” Jorqel shook his head slowly. “My beloved is being held captive by that monster. The moment I defeat him her life is forfeit. I must get to her before news of the battle reaches his camp, wherever that is. I have to be back there as soon as possible. What happens if my army encounters them and I’m here drinking and talking to the petty nobility? What sort of commander would that make me, and indeed what sort of consort for Sannia? She is in real danger. I will not and cannot leave her fate to another!”

Isbel waved a hand in a placatory manner. “Alright, Jorqel, I understand. It’s just a pity you can’t be there to enjoy Amne’s wedding. With Argan too ill and Istan…..” she tailed off and sighed. “Istan is not behaving well and I don’t really want him spoiling the event. He’s been sent to his room and I doubt he’ll be there, either.”

Amne looked downcast. Jorqel took her by the shoulders. “I’ll be there to see you wed, sis, and I’ll be very prominent at the speeches. I’ll say my goodbye to you before I go. Don’t forget, you’re invited to my wedding in the summer at Slenna.”

The princess smiled wanly. “Yes, I won’t miss it for the whole of Kastania! I just hope father arrives soon. He’s leaving it very late.”

Jorqel grunted. “He’ll be here, don’t you worry. I’ll be glad when he does arrive. I have a lot to speak to him about.”

“Such as?” Isbel asked.

“Military matters, mother. I won’t bore you with them.”

“Meaning I won’t understand them, Jorqel? Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have no head for such things!”

“Oh, don’t start! I don’t wish to know some matters you and Amne speak of. What I have to say to father is between him and me. Man talk,” he smiled grimly. “Now, just who are you taking away from here when you go?”

“Oh, Pepil, Frendicus, half of the clerks in the treasury and administration, Vosgaris.”

“You’re moving the entire guard?”

Isbel shook her head. “No, Vosgaris is being replaced as Captain of the Palace Guard by Lalaas.” She looked long and hard at Amne who smirked. The empress shrugged. “My husband suggested we needed a new militia commander for Zofela and he was my logical choice. This is the palace and the Guard will remain here of course. They are now to defend Prince Elas and your sister – and what family they eventually have.”

“Hmmm,” Jorqel rubbed a hairy chin. “Lalaas is hardly an officer, is he?”

“So?” Amne pounced. “He’s a true warrior and has proven himself on more than one occasion, and the guards know him. Who else could I trust to protect me?”

“And what has Elas said about that?”

Amne pouted. “He has no say; he knows the Guard has to have a commander, and since Lalaas is already here and has saved my life many times over, he could hardly object on any count, could he?”

Jorqel pulled a rueful face. He looked at the empress. “And you’re in agreement with that?”

Isbel shook her head slowly. Amne frowned. “So what have you got against him, Jorq?”

“Nothing, but I would have appointed a proven officer in the first place and maybe assigned Lalaas as second in command to ease him into the position.”

“Phooey! You’re such a traditionalist! Have some flexibility for once, Jorq. Lalaas is the perfect choice.” She beamed a wide smile.

Jorqel caught Isbel’s look and he wasn’t reassured. He just hoped to the heavens Amne knew what she was doing. He decided the meeting was as good as over, and if the two women were going to recommence their argument over either Argan’s future or the wedding, he was out of there. He therefore left. The man he wanted to see was almost right outside, which was convenient. Captain Vosgaris saluted and the prince waved him to follow.

“Tell me, Captain, how are you finding your new charge? I hope she’s settling in.”

“Oh, she’s feeling trapped and helpless, and worries she’ll be sentenced to some horrible fate once the empress or emperor decide that they do not wish her to be around.”

“I have given my word she is to be unharmed. I would be extremely displeased is something did happen, Captain, you understand?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sire.”

“I have appointed you to take charge of her, Captain. That means if something does happen to her, I will hold you personally responsible. If that is the case I shall send someone to take care of you. Is that clear?”

Vosgaris stood stiffly to attention. “Perfectly, sire. I shall not fail in my duty.”

“Hmm, make sure that you don’t. Both the empress and my sister seem to hold you in high esteem. I do not as yet share their opinion. If you wish to enjoy my favour I suggest you follow my wishes. I will, after all, become emperor in time, you follow me?”

“I understand you very well, sire. Please be reassured I shall protect the Lady Alenna with my life.”

Jorqel studied the smooth-skinned man before him for a moment, noting that his clear eyes looked over his shoulder. Good military stance. He looked well balanced, which was good for someone who would have to use a sword. A few years younger than Jorqel, Vosgaris seemed to lack something, presence, perhaps. A reasonably competent subordinate, he perhaps was not a born leader. That was good, for Jorqel would not tolerate anyone who had ambitions above their station. “Very well, Captain. You may continue with your duties. Oh, speaking of those, have you uncovered any possible plot against my House during the forthcoming celebrations?”

Vosgaris thought for a moment. His hesitation was seized upon by the prince.

“Ah, then perhaps you might have?”

“Sire, nothing definite, but I have heard a rumour of something. I have no idea exactly what, but my informants have heard that someone of importance has been asking around the back streets for an expert in archery.”

“Then get onto it at once!” Jorqel was alarmed. “An archer? One man on a kill? For Kastan’s sake, Captain, if it is true then the target is almost certainly one of those to be wed!”

“I am working on the rumour, sire. I am awaiting verification from my informants in Kastan City’s poorer districts. It will be difficult to locate this lone man should this be true, I must say, but at present it is only a rumour. I have heard many these past few days and many are wild and fantastical.”

Jorqel pointed a stern finger into Vosgaris’ chest. “You will have to examine the temple carefully – that is a possibility where this act could be carried out. Check all the temple staff and priests. Question the clerics attending the ceremony. Keep me informed.”