The Queen's Gambit (9 page)

Only it wasn't all. It would never be that simple.

All his confidence, his self-assurance that he would never again unleash fire or utilize his other powers vanished before this brutal reality. Until tonight, he'd believed that he'd conquered himself. He thought he'd driven his abilities so far away that they were no longer a part of him, and he was at last a true Mandrian.

So he'd thought.

Bitterness welled up inside Talmor's throat, and he swallowed hard.

It seemed now he'd only been deluding himself. It was a
miracle that Inthiere hadn't been standing in the room to witness Talmor's darkest secret. Sir Inthiere was no friend, and would welcome a reason to turn against Talmor.

Had any of the wounded men seen what just happened? Talmor felt the old fear creep up around him. He'd heard no one in the room cry out, yet he lacked the courage to lift his head and see if any of the others were staring at him.

Ruin took only a moment, he told himself. No matter how carefully a life was built, day by day, little achievement after little achievement, it could all topple in a heartbeat. The first sixteen years of his life had been lived in the agony of missteps, disasters, and secrets. Then had come exile, and the chance to start over. For ten years he'd lived without persecution, achieving his goals little by little, and now. . . and now. . .

“I've brought more water,” Pears said quietly.

Startled, Talmor rubbed his wrist swiftly across his burning eyes. He had keen ears, but Pears had come back so silently Talmor hadn't heard him at all.

He squinted up at his squire, and saw the apprehension in Pears's eyes behind his stalwart expression. Fresh humiliation plummeted through Talmor. Here at Durl, Pears alone knew the truth. Pears, who had served him all his life.
“When a servant fears you, a poor master you are.”
So had Talmor's father always said. Right now, Talmor would give anything to wipe that look from Pears's face.

“I don't need it now,” Talmor said, referring to the pail of fresh water Pears was holding. “Let it be.”

Some of the tightness around Pears's eyes relaxed. “Thought ye might be wanting a drink.”

Talmor let Pears bring the cup to his lips. He drank, barely tasting the water this time. It was a peace offering between them. No more could be said.

But as Pears gently eased him down, urging him to lie quiet and go to sleep, Talmor could read his squire's feelings. It had happened tonight. It could happen again . . . and would. They both knew that now.

In the morning, Talmor arose stiffly, every joint creaking
and sore. His headache had dulled to a faint throb; his ribs made him move stiffly, but he felt no more discomfort than that.

“Aye, healing right up, just like always,” Pears said in satisfaction. But he avoided Talmor's gaze as he said it, and went to fetch warm shaving water and breakfast.

Talmor understood the deep-seated Mandrian fear of being enspelled or soulgazed. He pretended he did not notice and shifted his thoughts to more important problems.

Yesterday's raid had been a disaster. The village was burned to the ground, the fishing fleet destroyed. Nearly all the women and children had been taken as captives, and would never be seen again. Much of the hold had been looted and burned. Lord Pace, his protector, Sir Albie, and three-fourths of the hold's fighting men lay dead. A handful of knights, some visibly wounded, had been taken captive. The few men who remained included Talmor, Sir Inthiere, Sir Banjermal, and Sir Pentigne, plus a scattering of sentry-rank knights. Two of the wounded had died before dawn, and another, needing his mangled leg taken off, would probably die within hours. The survivors had retreated up into the small fortress, locking themselves in with limited supplies of food and water, for fear that the raiders would return.

As soon as he'd eaten, and Pears had eased him into a loose-fitting tunic, Talmor sent for Sir Inthiere.

The reply came back swiftly. Sir Inthiere was engaged with important matters, and Sir Talmor was to report to
him.

“Now, now,” Pears said soothingly. “What does it matter if he's taken charge? Aye, and him the only officer fit and on his feet.”

Talmor stood up on rubbery legs. “He's no business taking command.”

“Yer not fit to go out. Better to rest and face him later.”

There was wisdom in what Pears said, but Talmor was filled with a strong sense of urgency. The raiders would probably return, lured back to the hold to loot more of it. Were there no danger, Talmor would have played the game of outwaiting Inthiere, letting the fortress commander run into a
situation he could not handle and then be forced to seek Talmor's aid, but there was no time for such foolishness.

He went to Inthiere, with gritted teeth and a strong sense of exasperation.

The fortress commander stank like an alehouse. Despite that and his bloodshot eyes, he acted reasonably sober on this sad morn. Talmor found him standing on the ramparts, squinting seaward. The sea looked as gray as the sky, and was running rough.

“More storms coming in,” Sir Inthiere said without greeting. “No raiders on today's sea, Thod be praised.”

“They rode yesterday's storm in,” Talmor said. “We'd best secure what remains of the hold.”

“We'll not go back down there!” Inthiere said fiercely. “ 'Tis unsafe, indefensible. We'll stay up here in the fortress and count our blessings that we're still alive.”

“What about food and water? Have we enough for—”

Inthiere turned a bloodshot eye on him, and said, “I've taken command, sir. I'm the only ranking officer who's fit for duty. Leave the details to me.”

Anger swept Talmor. “Had you been fit for duty yesterday, had you even done your duty, the warning would have been sounded in time.”

Inthiere stiffened. “You blame me for this? How dare—”

“I dare much. As Lord Pace's adjutant, I rank above you. Command is mine, until the king sends us his orders.”

“You're nothing but a fetch-and-carry boy!” Inthiere said. “Had you held the seawall as his lordship bade you, none of this would have happened.”

“I saw the boats coming in,” Talmor said between his teeth. “I gave you the warning signal. Had you been watching, had your sentries bothered to look seaward at all, instead of sharing ale with you—”

“Ah, and now you accuse me of being drunk, of—”

“I do,” Talmor snapped. “You're drunk now. Or close to it.”

“That's a lie!”

“How many were killed because you and your men did not
keep watch? How many taken captive? The seawall could not be defended, but there was time to get everyone into the fortress had you sounded the warning when you should have.”

“There isn't room enough up here for everyone from both hold and village.”

Talmor stiffened, and silence fell over them both. It was a damning admission, and the fortress commander slowly turned red.

Talmor's head began to throb. He was furious, but beneath that emotion ran sorrow. “And so,” he said very quietly, “you thought you'd make room by letting the villagers perish. The village is always expendable first, before the hold.”

Inthiere grew redder than ever. His eyes dropped from Talmor's steady gaze. “ 'Twas his lordship's standing order. You
know
that.”

“I know that we could have crowded in here and been spared for the few hours necessary. This was needless carnage, sir, and well you know it!”

“Easy for you to throw accusations,” Inthiere said viciously. “Where were you when such decisions had to be made? Nowhere. Why did you and your men not hold the road between hold and fortress? You could have sent some of your knights this way, had you bothered to think of us. The brutes came howling halfway up to our gates before they turned back.”

Talmor stared at him, appalled at the man's stupidity. “You were safe here. What need was there to waste men defending your gates?”

“Oh, yes, a waste. And I with the responsibility for the safety of Lady Alda and her daughters. Don't look at me with that superior air, sir! I know what you think of me, you the baseborn son of some southern lord, and no better than you should be. I have no highborn blood, but I'm an honest man. I've worked hard to get where I am, and you will not accuse or insult me this way. I did my duty, and you failed in yours. That's all there is to it.”

Rigid, Talmor took a step back. “That is your report. Very well.”

He turned to go, but Inthiere gripped him by the arm and spun him around so roughly he nearly cried out with pain. “You are not dismissed, sir.”

“I do not acknowledge your right to command,” Talmor said sharply.

“You will do so!” Inthiere shouted. “I am the ranking officer—”

“You are a drunkard and a fool. You have no business taking charge.”

“I order you to retract that! On pain of—”

Talmor stepped up into the man's face and gripped his surcoat at the throat. “Do you challenge me, Sir Inthiere?” he asked in a voice like silk.

The fortress commander drew in his breath sharply. He tried to pull back, but Talmor held him fast.

Inthiere was blinking rapidly, and the choleric color drained from his face. “I—I will not fight a wounded man.”

Disgust made Talmor shove him away. “Oh, easily said, sir. And how convenient for you.”

“Take care, Sir Talmor. You were free enough to sneer and criticize when you were Lord Pace's favorite officer. You have no such position now. While you've been lying abed, I've had the thankless job of trying to cope with everything. You've no idea—”

“I have a very precise idea,” Talmor broke in coldly. “Until the king sends his orders and a new chevard, we had better—”

“A new chevard!” Inthiere said. “But nay! Lady Alda and I are in league—I—I mean to say, we are determined to keep Durl Hold as it is.”

“You mean ruined? Destroyed?”

“Don't be a fool. I am to command, and she will hold the title. All can go on as it has. What need has the king to know?”

Stunned, Talmor stared at him. He understood perfectly now. Small wonder Inthiere was feeling so sure of himself.

“Well, sir?” the commander said. “I ask you, what need has the king to know? He never comes to us up here. Why should Durl revert to the crown, just because Lord Pace left no male heir?”

Daughters could inherit some titles, Talmor knew, but females could not be chevards. Responsible for maintaining key defense points along the edges of the realm, chevards had to be warriors first and foremost. They worked hard, faced dangers, and did not lounge about at court in the king's exalted company. And when a chevard died without male issue, his lands were forfeited to the crown, to be redistributed and awarded elsewhere according to the king's pleasure. Lady Alda was committing treason by concealing her husband's death from his majesty just to preserve her title and home. She could not succeed with this mad plan, for the king had agents everywhere and would soon discover the plot.

Talmor frowned. Either the woman was as stupid as Sir Inthiere, he thought, or she had some other scheme in mind. Well, it was not a matter for him to untangle. He knew he must take himself far from here at once and avoid being implicated in such wrongdoing. He hated going, but to remain would be the greatest folly.

“I know you intended to so ingratiate yourself with Lord Pace that he would someday adopt you,” Inthiere said now, “but your scheme has come to naught. I command here now, not you, and best you accept it. If you feel up to resuming your duties, go down to the hold and take charge of the detail gathering food and supplies.”

Talmor let nothing cross his face. Coldly, he looked at Inthiere, and revealed his contempt only in his tone of voice. “His lordship is not yet buried and already you warm his bed, and his lady. Congratulations, sir. It seems you can strike at an opportunity when you see it.”

Red surged anew into Inthiere's face. He drew back his hand to hit Talmor, but Talmor gripped his wrist hard and held him so that he could not deliver the blow.

Inthiere strained to break free, but although the effort made his head throb with pain, Talmor held him fast with superior strength.

“You go too far, sir!” Inthiere said furiously. “Damne, but you go too far!”

“My liege vows were broken when Lord Pace died,”
Talmor told him. “You may inform Lady Alda of my immediate departure from Durl Hold.”

Releasing Inthiere so suddenly the knight staggered back to keep his balance, Talmor turned on his heel and started down the steps leading from the ramparts. Inthiere hurried after him.

“Wait! Lord Pace's flag has not been struck. You must keep your oath and remain in his service.”

“I swore allegiance to him, not his banner.”

Inthiere glared at him. “Officially, Lord Pace lies wounded. Durl has need of every knight. Continue to serve, and you'll be amply rewarded.”