Secrets of the Night Special Edition (53 page)

He reached for his acorn toast. "I appreciate your offer, but I can't let my people down." He slid a look her way, a rebuke in his expression. "We've gone over this many times."

She nodded toward his bronze goblet. With Radegunda's connivance, she'd drugged his cider. "Be sure to drink your cider, then. It's a long ride to the capital. You don't want to get thirsty."

He waved his hand. "Not today. You know how hard cider aggravates my headache."

Keriam stifled her disappointment, now more determined to accomplish her goal. "Father, I beg of you, stay home. I told you I can give--"

Tencien slammed his fist on the table, making her jump. "Stop your nagging, Kerry. I've had enough!"

* * *

Leaving his horse at the city stables, Roric headed for Talmora's Square, less than a half-mile away. Hundreds, thousands! of people had assembled in the city, their excited voices drowning out all other sounds. He edged through the crowds that jammed the streets, his head turning right and left. The smell of smoked meats and spicy cider floated through the air, vendors selling refreshments. Hawkers plied their souvenirs--wooden carvings of the Earth-mother goddess, miniature flags, and special Lug buttons that commemorated the God of Light. Fathers balanced young children on their shoulders, while older children were held in place by their mothers. Would the festive mood remain throughout the day? Roric worried, or would tragedy strike?

His gaze covered every street, every corner, his hand fingering his sword hilt. Hemmed in by the multitude, he looked in all directions, grateful that extra guards surrounded the dais. More were posted at each city block and beside every oak tree. He nodded in satisfaction; yes, all the appointed men stood guard. One oak tree in the far distance caught his attention. Could a zealous archer use that tree as a base for assassination? Quickly, he dismissed that concern. Not even the most skilled archer could hit a target from that distance.

Buildings of only one story flanked the city square, not high enough for an archer, so he saw no danger from that angle. Roric tried to relax, hoping his worries proved groundless. Goddess, he prayed, protect the king.

* * *

From her high perch in the oak tree, Aradia had a clear view of the king and the princess as they arrived, a glimpse denied ordinary mortals at this distance, since they lacked her exceptional vision. Next to the dais, the king's retainers helped him and the princess dismount.

Aradia sneered as the king and princess mounted the platform. Just look at Tencien, so full of his importance, so confident his stupid subjects loved him. And the ridiculous princess, smiling and waving at the mob! Well, that insipid Keriam wouldn't be smiling in a few minutes.

Aradia pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. All these idiotic people cheering the king and princess, raining flowers on them! Just wait, just wait . . .

A page sounded a trumpet, then Tencien raised his arms to address the mob. The applause reached a crescendo.

The branch that supported Aradia cracked and broke, sending her tumbling. She caught herself on a lower branch, then checked a scratch on her left leg, cursing her bad luck. The lower branch didn't give her nearly as good a view. And what if someone had seen her fall? Her gaze shifted from side to side, until she was convinced no one had spotted her. She lost precious seconds raising herself to another branch above her, an absolute necessity.

Now the king turned to the side, speaking to those to his right. Damn it, would he never turn in her direction again? She must aim for his heart, only one chance granted. An eternity passed before he faced her direction again. So, now . . .

Perspiration dripped into her eyes, hindering her vision. Cursing again, she brushed her hand across her eyes. Now the king had turned in the other direction.
Demoness Endora! Are you not with me today?

The king faced her way.
Now!
Aradia reached for the arrow in the branch and nocked it. She sighted down the shaft, bringing the king into sharp focus, as if he were mere feet away. With a silent prayer to the demoness, she released the arrow.

Chapter Fourteen

“Just in time, gentlemen.” Slowing his horse to a walk, Balor turned in the saddle to address the officers who rode behind him, having reached Moytura upon their return from Elegia. He raised his voice to be heard above the cheering. “Look, the king is entering the city.” He lifted his hand slightly in that direction, careful to remain unobserved. Ten of the king’s guards surrounded the dais, prompting a chuckle from Balor. Much good the guards would accomplish against Aradia’s aim.

He thought about the productive mission to Elegia, a trip in which he had gleaned useful details about the Elegian army, its size and equipment, and why their swords performed so much better than those of Avador. Balor and his men had inspected the fort closest to the border and learned the distance from that fort to the next farther north. Yes, a fruitful trip.

The general and his men stopped by a large warehouse at the hilly northern entrance to the capital, gaining them a clear view of the city square with its fountains and greenery, the dais where the king would speak. Clusters of oak, ash, and rowan trees rose behind them, but here the hilly ground was bare, except for weeds and thick tree roots.

Cheers and applause filled the air around him, the multitude frenzied with excitement. Stupid fools! Soon they’d scream with horror, if–and he never doubted it–Aradia had succeeded in reaching the city during the night. His eyes scanned the mob, to all the men, women, and children who thronged the streets. Now Tencien and Princess Keriam mounted the steps to the flag-bedecked platform, waving at all their meek subjects.

The king’s ministers and the city magistrate already occupied the wooden dais, standing and bowing as Tencien and Princess Keriam approached.

Balor’s glance slid far to the right, to an oak tree warding the stature of Talmora. He focused his eyes anxious to see movement in the tree. Was Aradia preparing to shoot the arrow now? He shook his head in acute disappointment. Damn it! He couldn’t see any movement that far away. Balor prayed silently to Endora that Aradia had reached her destination, that she would execute their plan any moment now. She must kill the king!

A trumpet blew, and Tencien began to speak. Balor’s gaze flew to the king again.

“My fellow Avadorans,” Tencien said in a clear voice, “I greet you on this first day of the Lug Festival.” He turned to his ministers, recognizing each of them for the ways in which they had aided the country, then spoke on the progress he had made since the Bel Festival. “And we thank the god of light for all that he has done for us, for giving us bountiful crops. We pray that he will always bless–Ah!”

Princess Keriam screamed.

The king staggered and fell, an arrow through his heart.

“No!” The princess sprang from her seat and dropped to the floor beside him. She knelt over his body, her hands raised in supplication. “No, Father, please no!”

“Talmora, help us!” The ministers fell to their knees beside the princess and checked the king for signs of life. They crowded around each other, each one desperate to assure himself that the king. Stunned looks captured their faces.

From a distance, Balor smiled, his pulse racing with excitement. Aradia had accomplished her task well.

Shock silenced the multitude, but for only a moment. Then cries and screams erupted, everyone shouting at once.

“What happened?”

“The king is wounded.”

“Goddess, no!”

“An arrow through his heart.”

“He’ll recover. It’s not a fatal wound.”

“You fool! An arrow through his heart–can’t you see he’s dead?”

“Oh, woe is me! The king is dead!”

Princess Keriam clutched her stomach, rocking back and forth. “No, Father, please don’t die! Father, I tried so hard to save you. I did everything–“ Broken sobs tore from her throat; Balor could hear her cries even from the distance separating them. Well, he’d give her something more to cry about.

* * *

Grinning exultantly, Aradia threw her bow into an upper branch and tore her dress off, tossing the garment far above her, where it snagged on a branch.
Thank you, Endora, thank you
.

The king was dead! A glow of satisfaction warmed her. After performing a hasty shape shift, she scampered down the tree, her agile paws flying from limb to limb. In her urgency to transform herself, she had sacrificed the finer jackal attributes–keen hearing and smell–for speed in completing the shift. She must get away! After one quick glance around, she raced off toward the palace. Her heart pounded with exhilaration, her tail twitching with excitement. No one had seen her.

* * *

Balor raised his hand, beckoning to his officers. “Now!” With him in the lead, the mounted officers guided their horses down the hill, then plunged through the mob. “Out of my way!” Conscious of the passing time, he pushed at the obstructing fools. On all sides, crowds hindered his passage, slowing his progress. Tempted to kick the clods out of the way, he thought better of it; mustn’t antagonize the people at this early stage. Precious minutes later, he reached the dais.

Ah, at last. His face deliberately set in sorrow, Balor dismounted by the platform and threw the reins to one of the king’s guards, then climbed the stairs, his officers following.

“Balor!” Leith Connor, the Minister of Coinage exclaimed, “thank the Goddess you’re here.”

“Yes, we thought you were still in Elegia,” the Foreign Minister said. “But we’re glad you’re back.”

Ignoring the princess and ministers, Balor crouched by the king’s body. Princess Keriam stared at him, her face streaked from crying, her mouth open in shock. He felt for a heartbeat and found none. Thank the demoness. Thank Aradia.

“You!” The princess sprang to her feet and pointed a finger at him. Tears streamed down her face. “You did this! You’re behind the murder. You and Aradia!”

Leith Connor laid a remonstrative hand on her arm but she shook him off. “No, madam, you mustn’t speak like this. The general has always been a loyal servant of the king.”

Another minister spoke up, his voice choked with sorrow. “Please, madam, I beg of you. Don’t make the situation worse.”

Men and women closest to the dais murmured among themselves, their heads turning from the princess to the general. Balor restrained a smile, inwardly laughing at their confusion. Of what did Princess Keriam speak? they asked each other. Was she truly accusing
him
of this wicked deed? Why in the name of the Goddess had she made such an outrageous accusation? Why, indeed.

The general stood, glancing at his officers. He donned an expression of shocked grief as he addressed his men, his eye on Princess Keriam. “I fear the princess is too distraught to think clearly.”

“You bastard!” She waved her hand at him, her face red with sorrow and anger. “You’re not fooling me.”

“Madam, please!” the Minister of Forests scolded. “You must not speak to the general in this manner.”

Balor turned toward Keriam. “Madam, I just returned from Elegia, only arriving here as the king began to speak, so–“

”Aradia! She committed this evil deed at your command. Don’t deny it.”

His hands on his hips, Balor spoke with stern resolve. “Madam, I fear grief clouds your thinking. I’ve ever been a loyal subject–“

”Liar! Murderer!” She lunged for him, but his officers restrained her. The ministers traded dazed glances and muttered among themselves. Choking on her sobs, she struggled in the officers’ grasp, loosening her hairpins until her hair fell in tangled strands in front of her face. The men held her in an iron-hard grip, their faces set in determination.

Malvin Kerr addressed Balor. “General, is this restraint necessary?”

“Of course, can’t you see she is momentarily deranged? Why, she might hurt someone, or even herself.” He turned toward the Minister of Justice. “We can’t let this wicked deed go unpunished. I charge you with conducting an inquiry into the king’s assassination.”

The Minister of Justice bowed his head. “By all means, general.”

“Princess Keriam!” a spectator cried, others following.

“Let the princess speak.”

“Yes, let Princess Keriam speak.”

Keriam clenched her jaw. Her captor’s concentration focused on Balor, their grip

slackened, and she broke free. His officers grabbed for her again, but Balor held up a hand. “No, let her speak. Let’s see what the
unsettled
princess has to say.” Brushing the tears from her eyes, she faced the general. “Balor! You traitor! Murderer!”

He spoke in low tones, his words audible only to her. “Beware what you accuse me of, madam. I can make things difficult for you.”

“So you say!” She took a deep breath; firm resolve hardened her words. “What makes you think you can fool these people for long? I’ll have the druids conduct an investigation and–“