The Saints of the Sword (66 page)

But that was tomorrow, not today. Today he was Lord Corigido, a minor Naren noble, travelling through the Highlands and enjoying Redburn’s hospitality. Everyone in Elkhorn Castle had believed this ruse, and Biagio had settled into it comfortably. As he sipped his beer, he watched Breena across the hall laughing as kinsmen showered her with gifts. She looked younger than she had before, more like a girl than a woman, plainly enjoying the good mood of the day. Redburn was next to her, swaying to the tune a band of musicians plied from their instruments. He was a good dancer, Biagio had discovered, a fact that made the emperor strangely jealous. Biagio himself had so far refrained from dancing, hoping that Breena would come and ask him herself.

But Breena hadn’t.

Biagio settled back in his chair. Listening to the music had put him at ease, and he had already drained several glasses of beer. A pleasant glassiness settled over him. What would he give Breena for her birthday? he wondered. He hadn’t come to the Highlands with anything but gold, and giving the woman coins would be horribly gauche. But he wanted to give her something. In his drunkenness he felt a great generosity, and he wanted to repay the things Breena had given him. Very slowly, he was recuperating. The world still remembered Renato Biagio as a butcher and a madman, but day by day that old Biagio was fading, being replaced by a changed man. Someday the world might see that change in him, but even if it never did, Biagio knew that great turns had occurred in his life. Gradually, he was climbing from the pit of derangement. And in some small way, Breena was lending a hand.

“Lord Corigido?” a voice interrupted.

Biagio looked up from his beer and saw Olly Glynn hovering above him. The clan leader put one foot on the bench.

“Yes?” said Biagio.

“I am Olly Glynn,” declared the Highlander. “Head of Clan Glynn.”

“Good for you,” said Biagio, and went back to his beer.

Glynn put his mug down noisily. “What’s a Naren lord doing in the Highlands?” he asked. “Are you on your way to Talistan?”

“Perhaps.”

“And you thought you’d use Redburn’s castle as an outhouse, eh? Just a quick stop before going to see your real friends?”

Biagio put down his drink. He had never been in a brawl before, but the strength from the drug had never really left him. When he was angry, it came flashing back. “I was having a good time enjoying the music,” he said. “Now go away, before you make me angry.”

“Oh! And what will you do to make me go, Naren? Spray perfume in my face?”

“Nothing as silly as that. I will merely report back to the emperor that you were rude to me, Olly Glynn. Then the emperor will send his Shadow Angels to your home, and they will drag you outside in the middle of the night. And while your family watches, they will slowly peel the skin from your fat body.” Biagio’s smile became enormous. “How does that sound to you?”

Glynn’s arrogance melted away. “You know the emperor well?”

“Let’s just say we’re dangerously close.”

“Indeed? Then perhaps you’ll pass a message on for me.” Glynn took a seat next to Biagio. “Tell his Greatness that the Eastern Highlands has need of him. Tell him to get off his Iron Throne for once and do something about Talistan. Do you think you could handle that, Corigido?”

“Certainly. I’ll be sure to tell him who the message came from, as well.”

“I’m serious,” said Glynn. “You Narens have been burying your heads in the sand. You have no idea what’s going on in Talistan, or in the rest of the Empire.”

“And you do?”

“I know more than the emperor does, I’d wager. Does he know that Tassis Gayle has been building up his armies? And that he’s in league with Duke Wallach of Gorkney?”

Biagio almost choked. “Wallach? What’s his business in Talistan?”

Glynn leaned closer and whispered, “Ships. He’s been supplying Gayle with an armada, straight from his own merchant fleet in Gorkney. I’ve heard rumors that they’re planning a move against the Black City.”

“How do you know this? My own people …” Biagio stopped himself. “Err, the Roshann; the emperor’s people, I don’t think they’ve heard about this at all.”

“You see?” said Glynn smugly. “Maybe the emperor should spend more time around the Highlands, instead of lying around the bathhouse with slave boys.”

Biagio bristled. “What else have you heard? Tell me, so that I can report back to the emperor.”

“That’s it, mostly. I hear things because I travel, or at least I used to before the border was closed. Redburn is as bad as the emperor, hiding out here in Elkhorn, but my clan still trades with Talistan some, when we can.”

“But what about these ships? Can you tell me nothing more of them?”

Glynn’s smile betrayed his satisfaction. “There’s something big happening in Aramoor. From what I’ve heard, Elrad Leth has been enslaving the Aramoorians, conscripting them to work on some big project. All of Aramoor is sealed off, guarded by Talistanian soldiers. None of my people can get in. Nor can any other traders, for that matter. I’ve heard this has something to do with those ships.”

“A shipyard?” Biagio mused. It didn’t make sense. Why take ships from Gorkney to Aramoor? There was no way to reach the Black City from there, not without first sailing back to Gorkney and then around the Empire. And that
voyage would take weeks. “I don’t understand. What else have you heard?”

“That’s it,” said Glynn. “Wallach is taking ships to Aramoor.” He shrugged. “As I said, maybe the emperor should find out for himself.”

“Yes,” said Biagio. “Maybe he should. But what about Redburn? Doesn’t he realize how much is at stake here? For God’s sake, it’s his country!”

Glynn became pensive. “Ah, Redburn. A good man, but young; and too cautious for his own good. He sees what’s happening. He’s not stupid.” The Highlander looked down into this beer. “He’s just afraid.”

The word lingered in Biagio’s mind. Everyone was afraid. Fear was the Empire’s newest plague. Biagio put the mug to his lips and took a pull, considering Glynn’s news. It had been a long time since he’d heard from Wallach. He had almost forgotten the vindictive duke. But Wallach remembered him, that was obvious. How could he forget the man who’d decapitated his daughter?

Tassis Gayle is pulling strings, thought Biagio. Who else has he brought against me?

“This is all you know?” he asked. “Nothing more about Wallach?”

“No more, but at least I’ve gotten your attention. You are as white as snow, Corigido. I’m pleased to see that I’ve frightened you. Now all you have to do is frighten the emperor, and maybe we’ll see some action.”

“I will tell him,” said Biagio.

“Bah, you will not,” scoffed Glynn. “Talistan is too important to you Narens.”

“I
will
tell him,” Biagio insisted. “Why do you doubt me?”

“I don’t doubt you, Corigido. I don’t even know you. It’s your emperor I have no faith in. Even if he hears the news, he will do nothing. He is an arrogant devil, and I’m sure he cares nothing about Aramoor, or the Highlands.”

“You are wrong. You don’t know the emperor as I do.”

“But I know about Narens. I have been around many years, a lot longer than you have, friend.”

I doubt that
, thought Biagio. He said, “You do not know the emperor. When I tell him about the problems in the Highlands, he will help. But he will need your allegiance. Things are bad for him in Nar City. You will have to fight against Talistan yourselves. Are you prepared for that?”

Glynn squared his shoulders. “I am always ready to fight.”

“And Redburn? Can you convince him to fight as well?”

The question deflated the clan leader. “Ah, well, that’s different. Redburn’s not a coward, but he’s not eager to fight Talistan.”

“I thought not. You must work on him, Olly Glynn. You must make him see the danger.”

“Yes,” agreed Glynn. “But not today. Today is a celebration.” A huge smile bloomed on his face. “Drink, Corigido! This is a party!” He jumped up and began to dance, grabbing a nearby girl and swinging her around in a waltz.

Biagio stared into his beer, thinking about Wallach. Tassis Gayle had been very clever in recruiting his allies. He had chosen a man with a huge grudge against the new emperor, and that worried Biagio. There were a lot of people with grudges against him, an ocean full of dead relatives. For Gayle to find allies, all he needed to do was open his eyes.

“Dear God,” whispered Biagio. “I’m in trouble.”

Now there wasn’t just an army to worry about, but a navy as well. The Aramoorian “project” he and Dakel had suspected clearly involved Wallach and his merchant fleet, a fleet that could easily be armed with the duke’s fortune. Biagio closed his eyes and summoned up a picture of Wallach’s daughter, the girl who had been married to Richius Vantran. Sabrina had been her name. She had been very lovely and very young, and Arkus had been pleased to give her to the Jackal. And after Vantran had betrayed them, Biagio had given the girl to Blackwood Gayle for some “fun,” and then had her head chopped off.

He had even ordered that gory memento sent to Vantran in a box.

Biagio shuddered as if a great wind blew through the room. “There isn’t much time,” he muttered. “I have to make Redburn listen.”

Leaving his beer on the table, Biagio rose and went over to Breena. The young woman was admiring another gift, an expensive-looking garment. Biagio maneuvered closer. Redburn noticed him first and scowled. But Breena waved, laid aside her gift, excused herself from the table, and went to Biagio.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “You look worried.”

“Come with me,” said Biagio. He took her gently by the arm and began leading her out of the room.

“What’s the matter?”

Biagio didn’t reply. He wanted to be alone with her, to find a place away from the noise and curious eyes. So he took her out of the main hall, past a throng of men howling around a foaming keg, and into a small alcove that only a few stragglers passed, barely paying them attention. Breena didn’t let go of Biagio’s hand, but instead held it tightly as she cornered him against the wall.

“My lord, you look troubled,” she said. “You’re worrying me.”

“It’s your birthday,” said Biagio. “I want you to have something.”

On his pinky was a ring of gold and silver twisted together like rope, forming two fanged serpents sharing a ruby in their mouths. The ring had been given to him years ago by his father, and Biagio hardly ever removed it. But he did so now, taking Breena’s hand and dropping the bauble into her palm. Breena’s eyes widened for a moment, struck by the gift, but she shook her head.

“My lord, I can’t take this. It’s far too valuable.”

“It is all I have to give you,” he explained. “Take it.”

Breena smiled. “You are drunk, my lord.”

“Indeed I am. But I will be offended if you refuse me.”

“My lord, I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”

“Because you have shown me things.”

“What things?”

Biagio didn’t answer. Instead, he merely closed her hand around the ring.

“Tomorrow we will talk,” he said. “I fear things are worse than I had imagined, and time is running out. Tomorrow I must see Redburn again. You must help me convince him.”

“My lord, what are you talking about?”

“Shhh. Tomorrow,” he hushed her. “Not today.” He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. The piece looked stunning on her. Biagio smiled. “Very nice.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Now come back to the hall with me.” She tried to pull him away from the shadowy corner.

“No,” Biagio said, “no more for me. You go; enjoy yourself. I have things to consider.”

She kept hold of his hand. “You promised you’d show me how to dance like a Crotan. Are you going to break your promise?”

“Lady Breena …”

“Don’t disappoint me, my lord. It’s my birthday.” Biagio looked at her. “All right, then,” he agreed. “One dance.”

Though he was drunk, Biagio danced with grace. Breena laughed as she twirled in his arms, and for a moment Biagio forgot his many troubles, losing himself in the music and the company of a beautiful girl.

E
lrad Leth rode through a dreary fog, his mood matching the climate. On his tail rode Shinn, characteristically quiet, and the silence of the morning unnerved Leth. It was unspeakably early to be roused from his warm bed, and the muddy road to Windlash did nothing to leaven his spirit. Two hours ago he had been asleep, only to be awakened by knocking at his door. Apparently, Captain Zerio had urgent news for him, news that couldn’t wait. As Elrad Leth galloped through the fog, he thought about the arrogant Gorkneyman, and what a pleasure it would be to pull his tongue out. If this was a joke …

But no, Zerio wasn’t a trickster. He was a bucket of slime with scum on top, but he didn’t have the wit for pranks. Leth expected to see a slave uprising, or Nicabar’s dreadnoughts on the shore. So far, though, everything was quiet. Leth set his jaw as he rode, determined to reach Zerio. The soldier who’d been sent to Aramoor castle had known nothing, and his ignorance had vexed the governor to the point of madness.

“If you don’t slow down, you’ll kill yourself,” Shinn counseled. “And take me with you.”

“Usually you don’t say a word, Shinn. Now I can’t get you to shut up!”

They passed the wrecks of broken wagons, abandoned hulks with splintered axles that had cracked in the effort
of dragging the ships across land. Groups of Wallach’s workers also went by in a blur, marching under the watch of Bisennan overseers or toiling in caravans, stopping just long enough to recognize Leth and spit. Leth ignored them. Since his last trip to Windlash, Duke Wallach had made astonishing progress. He had gotten his booms operational and had scheduled caravans with clock-like efficiency. According to the duke’s last report, nearly half his fleet had been brought across Aramoor and now lay at anchor off the southern shore. The other half would be across in two weeks. It was real progress, and Leth had been immensely pleased—until Zerio’s messenger had come.

He hoped nothing was seriously wrong. He doubted he could take such a setback, not when everything was going so well. With work progressing and their goals in sight, Tassis Gayle’s elaborate plans had finally seemed feasible. Even the Saints of the Sword had been remarkably quiet. Not one raid had occurred since Alazrian’s …