Steel and Sorrow (2 page)

Melat opened a side door and two women, barely into their womanhood, entered the room. They wore very little.

“What is this?” asked Jolnan. He tried to appear upset, but could not hide his interest.

“Two virgins,” said Melat. “They are a gift for you. I thought it a more enjoyable way to seal the deal than a handshake.”

Jolnan’s eyes finally left the teenagers and drifted to Melat and then Charu. He chuckled. “We have a deal.” He shook his head. “You have a remarkable woman.”

“Yes, I do,” said Charu.

The two young women left with the councilor. Melat locked the door behind them. She turned with a smile. “You did it.”

Charu scowled. “I didn’t do anything. You convinced him. How did you know about the assassination attempt?”

“It was a hunch based on other information whispered about the city, especially in the local bathhouses where I bought the two girls.” She giggled. “They aren’t really virgins, but I doubt the old coot can tell the difference.”

“And what if you were wrong about your hunch?”

“I would have thought of something.” She frowned. “You aren’t upset with me, are you?”

Charu didn’t answer. Melat came over and wrapped her arms around him. Her familiar lavender smell drowned out the faint traces of pine from the furniture. “Look, you’re a brilliant man and a great military leader, but you aren’t a politician. That’s why I’m trying to help you. I’m not overstepping myself, am I?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t be so direct in the future.” She pulled a letter out of her dress and handed it to him. “Perhaps this will change your mood.”

Charu furrowed his brow as he opened the letter and began reading. He stopped and looked up. “These are details about Tobin’s army, including possible locations of attack.”

She smiled. “Yes. I made a friend.”

“Who?”

She gestured to the letter. “See for yourself. He contacted me. What do you think?”

Charu continued to read. “It seems legitimate. And he has good reasons for helping us.”

“So we can trust him?”

“For now.”

“Good. Because I already sent a reply. I expect the next letter to contain more details regarding Tobin’s plan for invasion.”

Charu stared at Melat, thinking of where he had been two years ago. His wife, Nachun’s sister, had cheated on him and embarrassed him before the council. He had lost standing with the Red Mountain Clan council as a result.

He met Melat a short while later after literally running into her on the streets of Guaronope. They had been inseparable since. Within a month, Melat managed to recover not only what standing Charu had lost, but also helped him rise higher than ever before.

And the entire time she asked for nothing. “It is enough to know I have you. What more do I need?”

“Stop looking at me like that. It’s embarrassing.” Melat cast her gaze downward. “What are you thinking about anyway?”

Charu snatched her off her feet. “Just how remarkable a woman I have.”

* * *

Duke Conroy sat in his study, thumbing through a book that chronicled the exploits of a general from the Quoron Empire named Victas. Centuries ago, Victas had conquered most of the known world.

Conroy felt a close connection to him.

During Victas’ early years, Quoron’s emperor had been the victim of an assassination. Victas seized control of the empire rather than supporting the heir to the throne. Scholars claimed that the young general did so out of necessity rather than selfish ambition.

He saw that the emperor’s son didn’t have the skills to keep the empire intact and therefore took the burden upon himself. His love for his country was too great to allow it to fall apart.

Historians agree that without Victas’ intervention and subsequent rule, Quoron would not have lasted.

What will historians write about me?

A knock at the door preceded the creaking hinges. A servant stuck his head in the room and bowed. “I apologize for interrupting, my lord. Duke Bronn has arrived. He’s insisting to speak with you right away.”

Conroy’s eyes peaked over the top of the book. “Send him in.”

The servant bowed again before quietly closing the door.

Conroy rose from his seat and strode to one of the large bookshelves lining the walls of his study. His most prized possessions, his library’s completeness and wealth of knowledge was second only to the collection on Estul Island.

Books had always been a passion of his. He had read his family’s collection several times over before reaching adulthood, and collected countless volumes since.

Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway behind the study’s door. The door flung open and slammed into the stone wall. Unsurprised, Conroy did not turn around.

“What are you doing in here?” said Bronn. “I thought you would be marshaling your forces. It’s time we showed Jeldor and that black devil who should rule Cadonia.”

Conroy paid little mind to the urgency of the man’s tone as he carefully found the spot for the ancient text and replaced it. He slowly turned and gestured to the study door that hung half open. “In the future, you will treat my home with more respect.”

Bronn gave Conroy a confused look. “Are you that upset about a door?”

“I’m upset that you would barge into my private study like a child and then presume to order me around like one of your servants.” The edge in his voice cut through the air.

Bronn frowned and began to apologize. “You’re right, I was only—”

“Close the door and sit down.” Conroy told him, finding his chair once again. He could see Bronn’s frustration, but the young duke wisely bit his lip and did as instructed. “Now, why are you here?”

Bronn took a deep breath, gripping tight the arms of his chair. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, we must mount an offensive. They embarrassed our armies in the north.”

“No,” said Conroy. “They embarrassed your army. Mine remains behind my borders, waiting for the right moment, just as we previously discussed.”

“Jeldor was susceptible for an attack after having come to Cathyrium’s aid. My commander took the initiative to act. Orenthal didn’t expect Kaz to redistribute his forces so quickly when he had Tomalt on the run.”

“Your commander is an imbecile.”

Bronn managed to control his emotions. “My father trusted him and he is well-liked among the men.”

“Well-liked means nothing. I care little if my men like me, only that they respect and trust me to lead them. They fight for me because I don’t make stupid mistakes. You should remove Orenthal from command.”

“It’s not his fault entirely. There were circumstances—”

“Circumstances you caused by seizing Arcas Island. That was not what we discussed. That act alone probably pushed Duke Jeldor to side with Elyse. If not for that alliance, her army would be a fraction of what it is now.” Conroy watched Bronn’s arrogant face twist with anger.

“How was I to know she’d be able to convince Jeldor to come to her cause? She had never shown the ability for such things before.”

“It was all tied to Jonrell arriving. Gone for twelve years and then he shows up when she needs him most.”

Bronn laughed. “I almost cried in joy when I learned he was shot by a boy with a crossbow. Just imagine, you fight the battle of your life only to have some foolish child put a quarrel through your heart.”

“He deserved better,” said Conroy.

“Hmm?”

“I never liked Jonrell, but what he pulled off at Cathyrium with the resources and time he had was impressive. And to retake Namaris at the same time? Incredible!”

Bronn grunted. “Pure luck.”

“Luck comes from wise decisions.”

“Is that how you explain Elyse’s decision to make that animal her commander after her brother’s death? Wise?”

“It depends. The reports say most of Kaz’s men would follow him to hell and back. Others, especially the nobles, are eager for the foreigner to meet his demise.”

Bronn’s eyes widened. “You admire him, don’t you?”

“You would have to be close-minded not to. Despite so many things working against him, he’s still managed relative success.”

“Listen to you. It’s almost as if you plan to bow before him rather than the other way around.”

Conroy’s eyes narrowed. “He and everyone else he commands will pay homage to me when I take the crown.”

“You say that, but then you refuse to attack. I could understand your hesitancy if Elyse still had the scepter. That would certainly change things. But Amcaro must have destroyed it before he died. Otherwise, she would have found a mage to use it against us by now.”

Conroy shook his head. “True, but I won’t leave the High Pass undermanned prematurely. Aurnon the Second bestowed its defense to my family centuries ago. I won’t throw my duty away to seek personal glory.”

“Why not at least remove Olasi from the field then? His lands are close enough. We wouldn’t have to travel so far from the High Pass to reach them.”

Conroy smiled. “I already have plans for Olasi.” He refused to elaborate further. “I’ll continue to let Elyse wear down her resources against Tomalt for now. When they are at their weakest, then I’ll crush them. Not a moment sooner.”

Chapter 1

Raker lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He downed the last of the whiskey bottle’s contents in one large gulp. Despite his position, he didn’t spill a drop. Years of practice made him an expert in drunkenness and he had become nearly perfect in the craft since Jonrell’s death. So caught up in war, few had noticed his recent mastering of the art.

Speaking of the art.
Raker pressed the glass to his lips. He guzzled air and cursed.

Where’s that kid when you need him? Oh yeah, off with Kroke and Krytien on some assignment for Kaz.

“Hey!” he called out. “You wanna throw me a bottle?” His voice echoed in the stone room. He and Drake, like most of the other officers, stayed in rooms away from the main barracks. Since returning to Lyrosene for the winter, an old place in the back of the armory had become their home.

“I know you’re there. You gonna answer me or just skulk in the shadows?”

A lithe figure emerged from the far corner of the room, stepping into the pale moonlight from a high window. He drew back the black cloak concealing his face and figure. He looked young, barely a man.

I hate kids.

In his right hand, the kid held a knife. “How long have you known I was here?”

“I heard you come through the window.” Raker allowed himself a grin as he watched the young man’s eyes betray his surprise.

“I expected you to be asleep at this hour.”

Raker spat and a glob of tobacco landed between the young man’s feet. “I don’t sleep much these days. I just drink.”

The kid looked at the mess near his feet then up again, disgusted. “So, I noticed.”

“You gonna hand me that bottle I asked for?”

After a moment the kid grinned. “Why not?” He walked over to a nearby table, picked up a full bottle, and threw it across the room.

Raker fumbled the toss, but the bottle thankfully landed in his lap. He popped the cork and took a drink. “Much obliged.” He took another swallow and put the cork back in. “I gotta say I’m flattered that I’m the one to get taken out. I thought you’d have gone after someone else. Kaz perhaps?”

The kid grinned wider. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Our entire guild was hired to take out everyone in the Hell Patrol. A few others as well.”

Raker whistled. “That’s gotta be a pretty big payday. I’m guessing the queen too?”

The kid nodded.

Raker heaved a sigh and turned his eyes toward his mace a few paces away. “Well I hate to tell you, but that knife ain’t gonna do much for you.”

The assassin widened his stance. “You really think I’m gonna let you get that thing? Not that it matters. You’re probably too drunk to wield it.”

Raker smiled a mouth full of stained teeth. “Aye, you’re right. I’ve never been quick on my feet. But that’s the problem with you kids. You get distracted and focus on the wrong things.”

Raker raised the arm he had moved beneath his sheets. It came up holding a rope that he yanked across his body. A missile sailed across the space and impaled the kid through the chest. The impact threw the assassin across the room, pinning his body against a wooden post.

Raker took another drink as he watched the light go out of the kid’s eyes. Then he cursed, realizing the thing worked. He kept telling Drake that firing a ballista with a rope wasn’t important, but the boy had pushed the issue.

Good thing he ain’t here. I’m in no mood to hear him gloat.
He cursed again.
I’ll have to get someone to clean this mess up tomorrow though.
He sighed.
I probably should get up and tell someone what’s going on.

He looked down at his bottle.
Gotta finish paying my respects first.
He eyed the kid whose blood dripped all over his floor.
Besides, if all the guild’s assassins are this sorry, there ain’t much to worry about. Good thing Kroke ain’t here. He’d be floored at what they’re passing for a killer these days.

He raised his bottle to the ceiling.

We miss you, Jonrell.

* * *

Zorik opened his eyes, but saw nothing in the pitch-black. He tried to move his hand to his head, hoping the simple touch would lessen the incessant pounding that echoed in his skull. But his arm wouldn’t move and neither would his other. He looked down and saw they had been tied to his sides. Thick rope also bound his legs. He panicked.

What happened? How did I get here?

He struggled, but to no avail.

Though the giant hearth had burned down long ago, the stone near him still emanated heat. Coupled with the stacks of pots and pans off in one corner and several sacks and crates of foodstuffs in another, Zorik remembered he was in the kitchen.

The rest of his memories came flooding back.

The guild had received a big contract, employing all its members to eliminate the Hell Patrol. He wanted a crack at one of the main officers, but since he had botched the last two assignments, they gave him the task of taking out some old woman and her lover.