“You promised us a son, your highness.”
Marla leaned back against the cushions. “Certainly, Master Miar. Did he say which one he wanted? My eldest son, Damin Wolfblade? The High Prince’s heir? Or my younger son, Narvell Hawksword? The heir to Elasapine? My stepson, Rodja Tirstone, perhaps, who’s now responsible for one of the largest commercial empires in Hythria? Or would you prefer his younger brother, Adham? He’s off in Medalon somewhere, I believe. When you find him and inform him of his new career, you will give Adham my regards, won’t you?”
Galon seemed amused by her deliberate misunderstanding. “You’re a widow once more, your highness. And you’re a very beautiful woman. The Raven has no doubt you’ll marry again, and when you do it will be another fortuitous arrangement for you and the High Prince, both politically and financially. From the next union, you
will
provide us with the apprentice you promised when you entered into this agreement with the Raven two decades ago, even if you have to give birth to the child yourself.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked, privately gloating.
Alija’s lover thinks I’m very beautiful. He’ll want to hope his mistress doesn’t find
that
out any time soon.
“If you renege on your agreement with the guild, the first thing that will happen is the assassination you arranged all those years ago will become public knowledge. I’m sure that’s an embarrassment both you and the High Prince would rather avoid.”
Marla studied the man for a moment, and then came to a conclusion that left her almost faint with relief. “But you don’t know who it was that I had assassinated, do you?”
“The Raven promised that information would remain secret, your highness.
He
hasn’t broken his trust.”
She popped another grape in her mouth, hoping she looked unconcerned. “So if the Raven died tomorrow, the secret would die with him and it wouldn’t matter what you threatened me with, would it?”
That seemed to amuse Galon, too. “You’d try to have the Raven assassinated, your highness?”
Marla smiled. “Why do you ask? Looking for a bit of extra cash?”
The silence between them was laden with unspoken treachery.
“Thank you,” the assassin said eventually, “but I rather like the idea of being the next Raven. Killing the present one would be a very bad career move. My guild takes a dim view of people who assassinate their superiors to expedite their own promotion.”
“Not an unwise precaution in light of your profession.”
“May I give the Raven your answer?”
“My answer, Master Miar, is what it has always been. I will give your guild an apprentice. As soon as I’m in a position to do so.”
Galon bowed to her. “I shall convey your assurances to the Raven. He’ll be most relieved.”
“Do you have children, Master Miar?”
“If you know as much about me as you claim, your highness, you shouldn’t need to ask.”
He’s quick,
this lover of
Alija’s,
which made Marla wonder what someone as obviously intelligent and astute as Galon Miar saw in that aging old whore.
“You have two daughters and a son, if my informants are correct.”
“You’re remarkably well informed.”
“Remarkably,” she agreed coolly. “Tell me, would you apprentice
your
son to the Assassins’ Guild?”
“I already have.”
She raised an eyebrow curiously. “Like father, like son?”
“Only if he grows up to be a legendary lover, a sparkling conversationalist and a brilliant assassin,” Galon replied with a grin.
Marla found herself intrigued, despite herself. “You’re pretty damn sure of yourself, aren’t you, Galon Miar?”
“Comes with the job, your highness.” He shrugged. “A lack of confidence in one’s own abilities is fatal in my profession.”
“I imagine it would be,” she agreed, wondering what it would take to rattle that supreme self-confidence. “Is that what Alija sees in you, Master Miar? Or is it just your welltoned body she lusts after?”
He smiled. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“Maybe I will,” she replied. “Of course, I’m actually more interested in what you see in her. Is it the power a High Arrion of the Sorcerers’ Collective represents that has you so enchanted with her?”
“Don’t
you
find power arousing?” he challenged, shifting slightly from one foot to the other, the only sign Marla had that he might not be as at ease as he seemed.
“Not when it’s Alija Eaglespike wielding it.”
“You should try it sometime, your highness,” Galon suggested persuasively. “You might find it even more stimulating than money, which—according to popular belief—is what
you
find attractive.”
Marla’s expression darkened. “Don’t even presume to think you know anything about me, Galon Miar. Go back to your guild. Give your superior my answer. This audience is over.”
Unapologeticalfy, Galon bowed low, with all the courtly elegance of a nobleman. “As you wish, your highness.”
Marla didn’t answer. Instead, she ignored him, leaning forward to pick up a plum from the tray, examining it closely as if it was the most important thing in the room before biting into it, giving the blood-red fruit her undivided attention.
Taking the hint, the assassin turned and walked from the room, leaving Marla alone with the platter full of fruit and her racing pulse. She couldn’t say for certain, however, if it was the looming threat of exposure by the Assassins’ Guild that left her so unsettled or the unexpectedly disturbing presence of Galon Miar.
D
amin Wolfblade reined in his horse and turned off the road, allowing the column of Raiders to ride by, the dust of their passage whipped away by the crisp breeze. It was a beautiful day. Too beautiful to be marching to war, even with the knowledge the God of War favoured his endeavour.
As he watched his Raiders riding along the road, their pennons snapping in the breeze, and tried not to dwell on the meaning of being visited by a god, Tejay Lionsclaw spied him and pulled away from the column, trotting over to where Damin was waiting. Dressed like a man in a tooled red leather breastplate bearing the rampant lion escutcheon of Sunrise Province, she didn’t look like the mother of four small children. She looked more like the girl Damin had known when he was fostered at her father’s stronghold as a child—fierce, determined and as tough as any Raider in her father’s army.
Tejay circled her skittish mare and came to a halt beside him. “Something wrong?”
Damin debated telling her about Zegarnald’s visit, but decided against it, for no reason he could readily identify. Instead, he shook his head. “I was just wondering what Charel Hawksword is going to make of me riding into Elasapine with my army.”
“I’m sure, once you’ve had a chance to explain …”
He frowned. “I wrote him before we left, but if you were the Warlord of Sunrise Province and I was riding across your border with a couple of thousand troops, would you believe my explanation, or would you ride out to meet me with every sword you could muster at your back?”
“The latter, probably,” she conceded. “Still, Narvell’s effectively commanding Elasapine’s troops these days, even if he isn’t old enough to have the job officially. One assumes your half-brother will give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“I hope so.”
She looked at him askance. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
Damin grinned. “Yes.”
“Well, it’s good to see you joking around again. That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen since you got back to Krakandar from that cattle raid.”
Damin’s smile faded. “There hasn’t been a lot to smile or joke about lately, Tejay.”
“That never actually stopped you in the past.”
He stared at her with a hurt look. “Are you accusing me of being shallow?”
“Wasn’t that what you were trying so hard to make everyone believe?” she asked.
“I know, but … well, I thought my
real
friends would see the truth.”
Tejay leaned across and patted his arm comfortingly. “Your real friends do see the truth about you, Damin. And we love you anyway. In spite of that.”
“Tell me again why I let you come along?”
“You want to stop an invasion,” she reminded him. “Which is going to come through my province.”
“And is your husband likely to be waiting on
your
border with his army when we try to cross into Sunrise Province?”
“I doubt it.”
He glanced at her, puzzled by her tone. “I gather that won’t be because he welcomes our presence.”
“More likely he won’t be aware of it. Terin can be …” she hesitated as she searched for the right word.
“What?”
“Easily distracted,” she finished eventually.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He has other things on his mind.” She shrugged.
Damin was getting a little tired of Tejay and her cryptic comments about her husband. “You promised me you’d tell me what’s going on,” he reminded her.
“And I will, Damin, it’s just—”
“It’s just
nothing
,” he cut in. “Time’s up, Tejay. Tell me now, or I’ll have Adham escort you back to Krakandar and you can wait out this war doing needlework with my Aunt Bylinda and Luciena, and the rest of the women and children.”
She glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me.”
Tejay fumed silently beside him for a long time before she spoke again. The column continued to move past them. Adham waved as he rode by, sitting beside Rorin in the centre of the column. The dozen or more supply wagons were almost on them before Tejay deigned to answer his challenge.
“Terin is very conscious of the fact that his father was a bastard son promoted to Warlord,” she said finally. “He believes I consider him beneath me. That I think I’m somehow better than he is because I come from a long line of Warlords and he’s the son of a bastard soldier.”
“Do you?”
She glared at him. “If I think myself a better person than Terin Lionsclaw, Damin, it’s only because his actions lack nobility, not because of his birth.”
“So he thinks you’re a snob,” Damin concluded.
“It’s more than that,” she replied heavily. She hesitated, and then the words began to tumble out of her as if they’d been pent up against a wall and Damin had finally forced her to breach it. “You can’t conceive of what it’s been like, Damin. His every waking moment is devoted to proving he’s better than me. Better than my father, better than my brother, even better than his own father. It governs his every action. You can’t draw breath without him reading something into it, some implied criticism or insult. To start with, it was just when we were alone, but the longer we’re married the worse it gets. Even Chaine took him to task about it, on more than one occasion. He ridicules me in public every chance he gets because he thinks it proves he’s better than me.”
She hesitated, brushing away an annoying insect, but steadfastly refusing to look at him. “I stopped inviting my family to visit Cabradell years ago. I have no friends because he doesn’t allow them in the palace. I can’t go anywhere without having to explain where I am every moment of the day and who I’m with. He doesn’t love me, but he’s insanely jealous. I’m allowed no
court’esa
and when I once made the mistake of getting a little too relaxed in the company of one of my bodyguards, he had the man falsely accused of adultery and put to death.”
“Then how did you ever convince him to let you take the children …” Damin’s words trailed off and he stared at her. “He didn’t let you go, did he? You were leaving him.”
“But then the plague got in the way,” she said. “Which is why I turned north to Krakandar when I realised I couldn’t get to Natalandar. There was no way I could face going home. After Chaine died, I knew it was only going to get worse. My father-in-law at least made it tolerable because he had the power to curb the worst of Terin’s excesses. I couldn’t turn back, Damin. Even if the thought of going back to my husband hadn’t been so unendurable, the chances are good Terin would have had me killed the moment I stepped foot back in Cabradell Palace for taking the children away.”
“He knew you were leaving him?”
“Oh, yes. In my righteous indignation, I made the mistake of leaving a letter, spelling out—in no uncertain terms—what I thought about him.”
“Then he’s not likely to take your return to Sunrise Province at the head of the armies of Krakandar and Elasapine in a very good light, is he?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Damin.”
He shrugged philosophically. “It’s not your fault, Tejay. It’s just another problem we have to deal with.”
“You say that because you’ve never been through the torment of living with someone like Terin Lionsclaw,” she sighed.
Damin’s frown deepened. “Did he hurt you, Tejay?”
She looked away, still refusing to meet his eye. “That’s not the issue, Damin.”
“If he laid a hand on you in anger, my lady, I’ll
make
it an issue.”
“You need to worry about Hablet and his invasion, Damin. Terin may be a cowardly little prick, but he’s a loyal Hythrun. You need him
and
his army if you’re going to defend Hythria.”
“You said he was easily distracted,” Damin reminded her. “The man you describe sounds quite the opposite. Almost obsessive, even.”
“Terin’s feelings of inferiority aren’t confined to me, Damin. He thinks every vassal in Sunrise Province is looking down on him, criticising him, judging him. And that damned Karien just makes it worse.”
“What damned Karien?”
“Renulus is his name,” Tejay explained. “Chaine hired him to do a census of Cabradell City about two years ago. He moved into the palace and never left. Nor, incidentally, has he ever produced a count of Cabradell’s population. But that doesn’t seem to bother my husband. The two of them became great friends within days of meeting. Now he’s all but running the province and Terin just lets the sly little maggot do whatever he wants.”
“And he’s a
Karien
, you say?” Damin asked curiously.
“Strange, isn’t it? I always thought the Kariens couldn’t bear to be parted from their precious god long enough to travel into the evil heathen south, but this chap seems to manage. And what’s worse is Renulus has Terin believing the whole world is against him, including me. My husband spends most of his time trying to foil the plots Renulus has convinced him are going on all around him. Today it will be poor old Murvyn Rahan in Warrinhaven, tomorrow it’ll be Lord Branador up at Highcastle …” She sighed, shaking her head. “You’ll probably be halfway to Cabradell before either one of them notices your army, Damin, and when they do, it’ll all be part of yet another dire conspiracy, as far as my husband is concerned.”
“If he’s behaving so erratically, they won’t be imaginary plots for long, my lady,” Damin warned. “Particularly not if people come to believe a Karien has his ear.”
“I know that,” Tejay agreed helplessly. “And
you
know it. But there’s nothing I can do to convince Terin he’s being a fool. It broke my heart, living in Cabradell, Damin. Sunrise should be the richest province in Hythria. We control the only trade routes into Fardohnya. We have fertile soil, rivers teeming with life, enough lumber in the mountains to see us through to the end of time. And Terin just lets it all go while he tries to consolidate his position in a world where a good half of his enemies are in his own mind.”
“You know, Elezaar has a saying,” Damin told her. “By the time you’ve killed your last enemy, burned his last village and slaughtered his last chicken, it’s too late to discover you can’t enjoy being a conqueror if all you have left to rule over is a field of smoking ashes.”
“Elezaar seems to have a saying for every occasion.”
“It’s probably the most annoying thing about him,” Damin agreed, “besides his nasty tendency to report every little thing I do to my mother.”
“But at least you took some notice of what you were being taught,” Tejay sighed. “It’s a pity Elezaar, or someone like him, wasn’t responsible for teaching Terin.”
Damin leaned over and patted her arm encouragingly. “Then we’ll have to re-educate Lord Lionsclaw ourselves. And maybe do something about his little Karien friend, while we’re at it.”
“Good luck,” she replied sceptically.
The column had almost completely passed them by. As the last of the supply wagons trundled past, Damin gathered up his reins. “Race you to the head of the column?”
Tejay rolled her eyes. “You really are such a child sometimes, Damin Wolfblade.”
He laughed. “You’re just afraid you can’t beat me.”
“You think?” she challenged. Urging her mount into a gallop, Tejay charged forward leaving Damin staring after her in surprise.
“That’s cheating!” he yelled after her.
Without looking back, Tejay indicated exactly what she thought of his opinion with a rather crude hand gesture more common to a Raider than the highborn wife of a Warlord. Damin laughed at her as he took off in pursuit.
Accompanied by the cheers of the watching troops, he overtook Tejay a few paces from the head of the column.
Panting from the effort of the short, sharp ride, Tejay caught up with him a moment later, her fair hair whipped back by the cool breeze. The sun was shining brightly, but there wasn’t much warmth in it. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy from the brisk wind. “You just can’t bear to lose, can you?” she accused as she reined in beside him.
“My mother says that’s an admirable quality in a prince.”
“Your mother is hardly objective, Damin.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”
Tejay wasn’t amused. “Well, I just hope Hablet appreciates your intolerably competitive spirit. I’m not sure Starros will.”
Damin looked at her, puzzled by her abrupt change of subject. And her reproachful tone. He’d thought they were just fooling around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, Damin Wolfblade,” she scolded like a disapproving big sister as they rode at the head of the column, “that in your endless desire to win at all costs, you made a decision about your friend that really wasn’t yours to make.”
“How does that make me intolerably competitive?”