Shadow War (40 page)

“Lord Blintel’s
son?”

The man’s eyes
flickered with another muted flash of resentment. “A younger son, sir.”

Hovet pursed his
lips and moved to the curly-headed man with the twinkling eyes. “Name?”

“Rander Malk,” the
man replied. His voice was sunny and assured. He almost smiled as he answered.

“Coastal-born, are
you?”

Rander blinked,
then did smile. “Aye, I am.”

Hovet grunted and
moved to the Traulander. He squinted up at the man. “Name?”

“Caelan E’non.”

It was said
evenly, but with a touch of pride. She saw the unconscious lift of his chin,
the squaring of his shoulders, the quirk of defiance at the corner of his
mouth. He was probably used to hearing cheers every time his name was
mentioned.

Elandra sniffed to
herself. She would not compete with her protector for attention.

“Traulander?”
Hovet barked.

“Yes.”

“What made you
leave the games for the service?”

Caelan’s attention
focused hard on the man. Warily he replied, “A chance to fight for honor rather
than entertainment.”

The other men
stirred slightly, and even Elandra was impressed by the honesty of Caelan’s
answer. This was a complex man, not easy to handle, and far too good-looking.

She did not trust
her own interest, or the way her pulse quickened when she merely stood within a
short distance of him. He reminded her of the mysterious lover in her dreams,
and she liked that least of all.

“Majesty?” Hovet
asked. “Will you have them spar again?”

She hesitated, her
gaze sweeping the three candidates. Then she shook her head. “No. Have them
cleaned up and brought to the gallery in a few minutes.”

Turning her back
on them, she left the arena and found she was walking a little too fast,
breathing a little too rapidly. Her hands were sweating inside her gloves.

She hurried up the
spiral of steps, although there was no need to go so fast, and rejoined her
husband with a sense of having returned to refuge.

“Well?” he asked
her. “What do you think? You were quick in making the initial cut.”

“I must consider.”

Kostimon smiled at
her indulgently and patted her clenched hand. “Take your time, my dear.”

She looked away.
She did not want to be patted and patronized. But this was no time to indulge
in bad temper.

“Hovet?” the
emperor asked. “What did you think of them?”

The protector
shrugged. “I could take any of them in a fight.”

“Of course,”
Kostimon agreed, suppressing a smile. “That’s not the point, is it?”

Hovet shrugged. “She’ll
make a good decision.”

He stalked away,
and Kostimon smiled at Elandra. “Cold weather makes him grouchy. His bones
ache, as do mine.”

She was
immediately concerned. “Are you chilled? Am I taking too long?”

“Hush, my child.
Hush,” he said, waving away her questions. “It is of no importance. I am in a
tolerant mood. We have driven back our enemies, and all is well.”

She looked at him,
dying to shower him with questions, but he held up his finger.

“No, I will not
discuss it. All is well. That is sufficient for you to know.”

She settled back
in her chair, trying not to be petulant. So the invasion had failed. She could
not help glancing at Tirhin, but he was toying morosely with his dagger and did
not look up.

Captain Vysal
cleared his throat to gain her attention. “The men are here, Majesty.”

Kostimon gestured,
and Hovet immediately went on the alert, hovering discreetly a short distance
away. Led by their stern-faced sergeant, the three candidates filed into the
gallery and stood at attention in the same order as before. They now wore
crimson tunics and plain breastplates. Their helmets were tucked under their
right elbows, with their hands resting on their empty sword scabbards. They had
not been permitted to come armed into the presence of the emperor. Their chins
jutted at the correct angle, and their eyes were focused on the distance. They
looked well trained and ready to serve.

“Your decision, my
dear,” Kostimon said.

Lord Sien walked
forward to hover directly behind her. She felt a chill touch her spine and
wished he would move where she could see him.

“Majesty, shall I
use the truth-light now?” the priest asked.

Of the three, only
Caelan E’non showed the slightest reaction.

She noticed and
wondered why he should care.

Tirhin had risen
to his feet. He glared at Caelan, who returned his gaze impassively, without
shame, without appeasement.

Elandra remembered
the Traulander’s anguish only a few days ago, when he had been torn between
duty and a personal sense of loyalty to the prince.

She needed loyalty.
Above all things, she needed that.

Her father had
told her to confound the others with her choice, to do the unexpected.

Lord Sien had
urged her to pick from any province save that of Gialta.

Prince Tirhin was
standing rigidly, his fists clenched at his sides while his father smiled
benignly at the entire situation.

Elandra sensed
dangerous crosscurrents around her. Angers and resentments smoldering beneath
the surface.

She wanted the
Traulander. He was the best fighter because he was arena trained. That alone
made him more ruthless, more dangerous than the others. He was loyal, perhaps
to extremes. He was fierce, as fierce as Hovet any day. He was strong, with
incredible stamina, and he healed quickly. He had been a champion, which meant
he was a survivor, yet he possessed integrity and honesty. He was intelligent
and perhaps sensitive. There was nothing of the brute in him, although his
manners needed work.

He was ideal for
her purposes, but she dared not select him. For one thing, he had belonged to
Tirhin only a few days ago. She did not understand whether the prince had sold
him or freed him or why, but she suspected from the look on Tirhin’s face that
it had not been by choice. Tirhin already considered her his enemy and direct
rival. She did not wish to fuel the flames of his resentment.

Besides, she was
extremely disconcerted by her personal reaction to Caelan E’non today.
Disconcerted and angry. Passion was not a quality she expected to find in
herself. She would not permit it to exist if she could not feel it for her
husband.

No, Caelan was too
dangerous, in too many ways.

Without further
hesitation, she looked at the curly-headed man. “I choose Rander Malk.”

Rander’s mouth
dropped open in disbelief, only to spread wide in a grin.

Thai Brintel sneered,
hooding his eyes but not before she saw contempt in their depths, mingled with
a dose of self-pity. She was glad to be rid of him.

Caelan E’non was
looking at Tirhin; then his gaze brushed against hers and again she felt oddly
breathless. He nodded to her very slightly, and it was like a tiny salute of
respect and acceptance.

That, more than
anything else, reassured her that she had done the right thing.

Then all was
confusion. The sergeant hustled the others away, leaving Rander Malk with only
his captain for support. Rander looked overwhelmed and delighted. He could not
stop grinning.

When she rose to
her feet and walked over to speak to him, he bowed deeply to her.

“My lady—Majesty,”
he stammered. “I am honored. I will serve you till death. I swear it.”

She returned his
smile, gratified by his eagerness, but held up her hand. “The truth-light
first. Lord Sien?”

The priest
gathered a shimmering ball of unearthly light in his palm, then tossed it at
the suddenly serious Rander. The light shimmered down over the soldier and
spilled in a radiant glow at his feet.

“He is true,
Majesty,” Sien said.

She nodded and
held out her hand to Rander, who knelt and kissed her fingers clumsily. But all
the while, she was thinking of a tall, kingly man with blue eyes who was
walking away from her at this moment, a man who would have served her beyond
duty and ordinary courage, a man who might have given her his heart and his
soul.

She wanted to
change her mind and call him back, but she couldn’t, not with Rander kneeling at
her feet and humbly swearing his oath of allegiance. Not with her aged husband
standing beside her with a benign smile of approval.

A strange noise
awakened Elandra from the depths of sleep. It was a soft susurration of sound,
like the rubbing of cloth across a hard surface, almost inaudible, yet unusual
enough to have pricked through the layers of her sleep. At the same time she
also became conscious of a disturbing warmth against her chest.

She stirred,
burrowing her face deeper against her pillow, and slitted one eye open.

A strange golden
glow shone from beneath her, reflecting off the pale surfaces of her pillow and
bedclothes.

Puzzled and only
semiawake, she groped for the jewel pouch hanging around her neck. When her
fingers closed on it, she was startled by its warmth. It was as though the
jewel had taken on a life of its own. The light glowing from it spilled through
the drawn top of the pouch and grew increasingly brighter.

Elandra raised her
head and yawned, wondering what magic was working on the jewel.

Just then, she
heard a slight scrape of the bed curtain rings upon the brass rod fitted to the
canopy of her bed.

Elandra rolled
over and saw a shadow looming over her.

It was like
nothing she had ever seen before. In that split second of frozen time, she saw
it clearly in the unearthly light cast by the topaz. It was the shadow of a
man, yet only the shadow. There was no man standing there to cast it. Dark and
opaque, it was thin enough to look almost invisible when viewed from the side.

Elandra opened her
mouth, but with impossible quickness it surged closer, engulfing her.

Its ghostly
fingers reached for the cord around her neck.

Elandra screamed
and flailed against it, trying to drive it back. But her hands passed through
it as though it was made of air.

She screamed
again, rolling away from its unearthly touch, but it snagged the cord in its
fingers and held fast.

She did not know
how it could do so, but this was not a time to question what she was
witnessing. The tug of the cord around her throat frightened her, and she
suddenly feared this creature meant to strangle her.

She screamed a
third time, but its dark fingers dug instead inside the pouch for the topaz.

“No!” Elandra
shouted, but a burst of light shot forth from the jewel, filling the interior
of her bed and almost blinding her.

She heard a scream
inside her head, scree-thin and horrifying.

The shadow dropped
the pouch. The topaz was blazing now, and Elandra cupped her hand protectively
over it as she scrambled back.

She seized pillows
and flung them at the shadow, only to see them pass harmlessly through it. Then
she was tumbling off the opposite side of the bed, landing in an awkward tangle
on the floor, as frightened as she was furious.

Where was her
protector?

“Majesty!” Rander
cried, crashing into the room. Holding a lamp aloft with one hand, he ripped
open the bed curtains just as she picked herself up and came around to the foot
of the bed.

“Rander, take
care!” she tried to warn him.

The lamp fell from
his hands, shattering on the floor and spilling burning oil across the carpets.
Little flames danced up like imps, reaching for the floor-length bed curtains.
One blazed with a sudden whoosh of fire up to the canopy.

Rander went
stumbling back from the bed with the shadow on top of him. It had him by the
throat, and he grunted in increasing desperation, hurling himself about in an
effort to throw it off.

Chairs went
crashing as he flailed and fought.

“Rander!” she
called in horror.

The protector
staggered and dropped to his knees, gasping and wheezing. Elandra ran for the
door, wondering where her ladies were, wondering where the guards were; then
she ran back toward him, her long hair flying.

Rander had drawn
his dagger, but the weapon had no effect on the shadow that perched on his
chest. His body convulsed violently, then went slack. The dagger fell from his
fingers.

“No!” Elandra
cried.

She dodged the
flames that were now roaring in the middle of a fine carpet and knelt at his
side. Taking the jewel pouch in both hands, she pulled open the top and touched
the topaz to the shadow.

Again she heard
that thin scream in her mind. It flew off Rander and went sliding across the
floor, flowing up one wall with liquid rapidity.

Elandra bent over
Rander, gripping his sleeve. But his protruding tongue and staring eyes told
her she had not been quick enough to save him. Protector less than a day, dead
already in her service.

“No!” she cried,
shaking him although she knew it was futile. “Please, no!”

The shadow leaped
onto her back, clinging cold and surprisingly heavy. She nearly fell across
Rander from the impact of its landing and caught herself just in time.

The cord around
her neck drew tight, and in a panic she twisted around to thrust the topaz at
it.

The shadow sprang
off her and flowed away.

An eerie sound
from behind her made her spin around, crouching low even as she picked up
Rander’s dagger.

More shadows
spread into the room through the open doorway, sliding across the floor,
half-seen against the leaping flames and thickening smoke.

Coughing, Elandra
crept backward until her back bumped against the wall. The shadows converged on
her, driving her down one side of the room toward the doorway leading to the
secret passageway. She thought about plunging into it, realized how easily
these things could trap her in the narrow, unlit space, and shuddered in fear.
Better to stay here in the smoke and the fire, where she could at least see
these things.