Temple of the Traveler: Book 02 - Dreams of the Fallen (7 page)

“Why were you late?” Humi demanded, fingering her magic pearls like worry beads.

“Navara had a lot to say,” hissed Tumberlin’s crumpled form. “He had to wake some people up to ask a few important questions of his own.”

“Tell me everything he said!”

The emaciated face sneered, dark eyes mocking her. He no longer looked at her in lust; his appetites had changed during these many weeks of disembodied travel. “I don’t know if I should tell you. Ask me nicely.”

The Lady answered by holding the life-stone over an open flame. Both she and the Shadow were burned in the process. However, she willed herself not to cry out. Although Tumberlin’s screams were briefer than normal, he was panting when he replied, “Shatter my mind and you lose your message. Destroy me and you destroy your greatest weapon. You rely on me. You need me.” The last words came out as a shriek as the flame licked again.

Humi was sweating from her efforts. “Do I have to break your bones again, traitor?”

“No! I merely point out that you underestimate my worth,” Tumberlin hissed.

Humi spit over her shoulder. “Dog shit has more value to me.” She considered for a moment and added, “But this wastes my time. What is it you wish?”

Tumberlin bit his own crusty lip to avoid smiling. “I desire one free hour a night.”

Her nostrils flared. “I do not make bargains with devils.”

“I think you do.” This time the apprentice couldn’t suppress a grin. His facial stubble and the stubs of his broken teeth repulsed her. Humi grabbed one end of a nearby rope and pulled hard. The other end of the rope tightened around the apprentice’s throat, choking him and dragging him upwards. When she relaxed her grip and his breathing returned, Tumberlin said, “I hear that technique is pleasurable for a man during sex. Perhaps next time if you . . .”

This time, Humi tied the rope off to a metal tether on the floor and beat his dangling body with a metal-capped pole. The restraint system on board
The Beauty
was awkward due to its hasty rigging. Because she couldn’t risk stepping outside the protective circle at night, her questioning wasn’t effective. “It will be daylight soon,” she warned, as he slumped to the deck.

“We are at an impasse,” he eventually whispered. Only the added strength from draining the lives of fallen soldiers allowed him to resist. The flesh always thought of things in too short a time frame. For this reason, he would triumph over her.

“Ten bits,” she countered. “For this favor, you’ll answer every question I direct at you from now on.”

“Thirty-five, or I drop every other word from every message I deliver.”

She stared at his battered form and said, “For every heartbeat you are late, I will boil you in oil for seven. I reserve the right to revoke the boon if you evade or disobey me in any way. The rest will begin at midnight so that all critical work may be accomplished first.”

A look of relief crossed Tumberlin’s face. “Done.”

Then the dam broke and information began flooding forth. “Your first question was the easiest. Emperor Sandarac rarely gives his word and has consistently kept his promises. Examining his motives behind his offer will help to assure you of this. It’s well known that the Pretender has no heir and seems to have no interest in harems. He may be incapable of siring his own successor. It’s Navara’s considered opinion that Sandarac needs the male child you bear, and this will ensure your safety at least until the birth.” Tumberlin neglected to mention anything about Navara’s warnings about the treacherous nature of the Imperial court and the jealousy her sudden status might cause.

Humi briefly allowed herself to imagine the possible freedoms that such a life would entail. She would be an empress, yet bound to no man. “What about his ability to make war?”

Tumberlin shrugged. “War is first a political tool, and Sandarac has certainly shown himself adept at politics. The proposal itself is proof of this—turning a rival into a potential supporter overnight. Beyond political skill, he should be well supported by his subjects. His economy is strong, his harvests have been good, and his rule moderately popular. From all reports, he’s been studying from the Book of Dominion to learn more about how emperors wage war. His forces are well-known for skill in secrecy, alliances, and planning; nevertheless, Sandarac has never faced a large-scale armed confrontation. As our own Sept can attest, even the best plans rarely survive the first battle. No one can predict his true merit until this happens.”

“That was a very long ‘I don’t know’ delivered by another politician. I didn’t ask you for vague, noncommittal platitudes, I asked for advice.” To punctuate her displeasure, Humi cracked the end of the rope to one side like a lash.

The apprentice, weary of her moody outbursts, closed his eyes and rephrased what he had already shared. “Navara thinks that the marriage is a profitable one for all concerned. It consolidates power without the loss of valuable soldiers or gold. Sandarac’s methodical nature will also serve to compliment yours. You rely almost entirely on boldness and strength, even when you aren’t prepared for the consequences of your success.”

Her eyes flashed at the rebuke, but she held silent as he stated what he felt should’ve been obvious. For the sake of time and comfort, he also held back an insulting comment about the nature of women before continuing. “Delay all decisions possible until you are certain. Appear to agree while committing nothing irrevocable. This is the essence of statecraft. Use the betrothal periods and ceremony to your advantage. Semenea has been invaded by the Prefect of Bablios. If Sandarac can counter this threat within a reasonable period, wed him. If not, hand him over to the South on a platter and claim the throne as your reward.”

“It appears that I shall at least give my suitor the honor of meeting him face to face.” She summoned a porter and gave orders to set sail directly for the northern capital Reneau without stopping at her island palace.

“Now that we’ve taken care of the necessities, explain your insubordinate comment about my not being prepared,” she said, wanting to flay him.

“Only if I may speak freely,” Tumberlin insisted. She nodded slowly after consideration. Words could not harm her. “As one example, you have made this sheriff an obsession. What’re you planning on doing when you catch him? Torture him to death? That may make you feel better, but not the Heir. This man wasn’t even Lord Kragen’s murderer, only the catalyst. He has many potential uses. The emperor himself was interested enough to capture him independently. Why? Perhaps you would allow Sandarac some tie before you satisfy your own blind desires.”

“You wander perilously close to contempt,” she said, uncoiling a whip.

“You don’t deny it. Your obsession is so unthinking that you haven’t considered how to identify this sheriff. The emperor’s spymaster could have pulled any criminal out of a cell and tattooed him to match the description on our reward posters. Think! We have no witnesses from the palace who can clearly identify this culprit.”

Humi remained quiet for a long time, wanting to contradict her servant but unable to find a single fault.

Tumberlin envisioned her as a little girl getting scolded. “It’d be helpful to know why he instigated the assault or who he works for. Who told him where and when to strike? In the worst possible scenario, the Pretender may have arranged Lord Kragen’s assassination to strengthen his own claim to the throne! Only careful questioning of a verified live participant in the conspiracy would tell us what we need, impatient wench.”

At the last word, the tip of the lash caressed his hip, but drew no blood. “How can I know?”

“You can’t, not without entering the viper’s nest. But once there, you can be prepared to take revenge if treachery is discovered. Perhaps you could carry a small vial of poison in a locket around your neck, or a concealed dagger of some sort. As for the alleged sheriff’s identity, I know of no spell to force a man to speak the truth. However, we were able to find the lineage of his sword of Honor. These are in the reports Navara sent you. If this mercenary was the blade’s true owner, then he’ll recite the lineage from memory in a heartbeat. An impostor would have no clue.”

Humi nodded at the suggestions but asked, “Whatever happened to the other survivor of the raid, the smith who carried away the Sword of Miracles?”

Tumberlin opened his mouth to say something, but decided on a more politic answer. “We have extensive information about the fugitive, milady. We’ve taken his fiancée into custody—a slave girl named Anna. We’re also monitoring his family and all known contacts from Innisport. When this man Baran Togg surfaces again, we’ll have him. There are rumors in certain academic circles that the sword may be the fabled Great Defender itself.”

“Such a sword would be a fitting reward to the man who brings me the head of King Zandar.”

Tumberlin gave a pathetic attempt at a smile. “As well as a great symbolic contribution to the new emperor. Alas, Navara was the head of that particular investigation, and we’ve made little progress since his reassignment.”

Having reached a dead end, she returned to an earlier comment. “You said that the sheriff was one example. How else have you and the general found me lacking?”

“Your move on the throne of Zanzibos is ill-considered.”

Her eyes warned him again. “I’ll succeed, have no doubt.”

“Taking and keeping are two different things. You’ve declared yourself an Imperial and thus cannot sit on the throne directly. You can overcome their military, but their peasants, aristocrats, and bureaucrats would rebel. Navara has a plan to circumvent this unpleasantness and control the kingdom legally.”

“You have my attention.”

“Holding the king himselfhostage won’t work. Indeed, you’ll probably have to kill Zandar and his oldest son during the ‘confusion’ of the battle. However, he has fourteen children. I doubt even you could kill all of them before they got to a safe haven. Instead, make a point of
not
wanting to rule Zanzibos. Appoint a suitable regent through the Royal Council to take care of the kingdom until the next heir reaches majority. That’ll buy you years of influence and time to fasten a leash on the next monarch.”

“How do I force the counsel’s choice?”

Tumberlin’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, there is hope, yet. That was the discussion Navara and I were having before you so rudely returned me to this heap of festering meat. Tradition for the royal house is to pick a regent from the succession line, but not the first ten or so. That presents too much danger of a permanent occupation. An honest noble from a weaker family will help keep the others at bay without taking too much for himself. In times of war, the regent always has military experience and usually a medal of bravery or two. Finally, they prefer to promote a regional governor.”

“How many such suitable candidates are there?” she asked idly.

“Three. One of them is the practical young man we installed as governor in Barnham recently, the one who signed a non-aggression pact against your house. Another candidate, Lord Zorn, is an older statesman near Innisport who returned to his country estates for the sake of his health. The third is fond of hunting desert lions. It doesn’t take much imagination in this scenario to arrange a favorable selection, but it’ll take weeks to be sure without being overtly obvious.”

She nodded. “Navara is a wise teacher. I grow weary of your unkempt look and the smells of your blood and waste. I’ll have one of my maids clean you and dress you in new linens.”

Tumberlin gestured with the sign for “You are too kind.” All the while, he was plotting what he could do to Humi and her ship during the free time he had each day. He couldn’t kill her directly, but he could weaken protections on
The Beauty
and arrange a few unfortunate circumstances that might be exploited for further gain. More than anything, he imagined clapping her in chains and sucking the life out of her as she squirmed in pain, begging in that schoolgirl voice. He was drooling happily when the maid came in after sunrise.