Wolfblade (4 page)

“Why?”

“It’s no great secret, my dear. The Fardohnyans want to stitch up the
hole in the royal line they lost when Hythria first separated from Fardohnya twelve hundred years ago. Our venerable High Prince of Hythria, on the other hand, is flat broke, terrified of his own Warlords, under threat from a pretender who’s backed by an entire faction who opposes him—to the point where they’re openly murdering his friends—and he has no real desire to govern his country, particularly if it’s at war with his neighbour.”

“Then Lernen will accept the offer?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Tesha took another thoughtful sip of wine. “Our influence in Fardohnya has been eroded considerably since Hablet took the throne. Perhaps you could arrange the release of those members of our order he imprisoned when he was crowned King.”

“Well, don’t get too excited just yet. In his moments of sobriety, even Lernen can see the danger in the idea of his sister becoming queen of a neighbouring country that’s just as likely to turn on him without warning.”

“Traditionally, the King of Fardohnya has no queen.”

“Up ’til now.”

“This could be the start of something very promising,” Tesha decided. “You’ve done well, Kagan.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the gods Lernen has a sister of marriageable age. There won’t be any deals without that.”

“Then you had best see she remains safe, hadn’t you?”

“I’ll keep Marla safe and sound,” he promised. “Just you make sure you keep an eye on the Warlords. And your dangerous little protégé, Alija Eaglespike.”

“Are you implying Alija might have had something to do with the attack on Ronan Dell?”

“I’m not implying anything, Tesha; I’m saying it outright.”

Tesha shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“Without her pushing the notion of her husband as a viable alternative to the High Prince, the Patriot Faction would have no focus. They’re not going to be happy if they think Lernen has found a way to keep his throne.”

Wrayan listened to the conversation with interest. In all the years Wrayan had been apprenticed to him, Kagan had done as little as possible to fulfil his duties as High Arrion and then only begrudgingly. He had continued to profess his abhorrence of all things political right up until the current High Prince, Lernen Wolfblade, ascended to the throne. Since then, Kagan had been acting just like a real High Arrion and Wrayan had been hard pressed to keep up with him.

“I’m curious, Kagan, as to your sudden change of heart,” Tesha said. “The last time I asked you to aid me in settling a dispute, you told me to . . .” She hesitated and glanced at Wrayan before she continued. “Well,
suffice to say, you suggested I perform an anatomically impossible feat upon myself.”

“And how do you know it was anatomically impossible? Did you try it?”

The Lower Arrion reddened with embarrassment. “Kagan, if you continue in this vein, I will move to have you expelled.”

Kagan looked unimpressed by the threat. “You’d have me expelled for being crude? Here’s an idea! The Patriot Faction, led by the Warlord of Dregian Province and aided by his sorcerer wife—in direct contravention of our rules—is actively plotting to take the crown of the man we’re sworn to protect. Why not bring
that
up at the next Convocation?”

“If we had a High Prince with half a brain, or even one located in his head rather than his nether regions, none of this would be happening, Kagan,” Tesha pointed out testily. “The Patriots were nothing more than a clutch of whining old men until that pervert you’re so determined to prop up took the throne. And as you are his chief advisor—”

“So it’s
my
fault Lernen is a useless prick? Fine! The Convocation of Warlords is only a few days away. Once we’ve confirmed Laran Krakenshield as the Warlord of Krakandar, I’ll have the High Prince declare war on his cousin in Dregian Province, shall I? We’ll find out who the Royalists and the Patriots are then, won’t we?”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Here’s a lesson for you, my young apprentice,” Kagan cut in. “What the Lady Tesha is trying so hard not to say is that it doesn’t matter how dangerous the threat to the High Prince gets, the Convocation of Warlords wouldn’t lift a finger to stop the Patriots. Now why is that, do you think?”

Wrayan knew it wasn’t a rhetorical question. Kagan rarely forced him to study, but he was always questioning him and his observations. It was the way Kagan liked to teach, which was to say he would rather not be teaching him at all.

“Because damn near half of them have
joined
the Patriot Faction?”

Kagan laughed aloud. Tesha wasn’t nearly so amused. “What are you teaching him, Kagan?”

“As little as possible,” Kagan admitted honestly. “I’m trying to make him learn for himself. It’s a lot less work for me and a lot better for him in the long run.”

Tesha wasn’t really listening. Wrayan felt a tickle against his mind as she tried to probe his thoughts, but he shut her out with ridiculous ease. Kagan noticed the push too. Tesha was almost, but not quite, an Innate, which meant she was very good at giving the impression she had real magical talent, but didn’t have much skill when it came to actually putting it into action. Kagan, on the other hand, was a master of reading other people’s body language, which made many people
think
he was a magician when in fact,
he had no magical talent at all. It was simply his quite astounding skills of observation.

“You’ve not a chance of cracking
that
boy’s mind, Tesha,” he laughed.

“I know the boy’s potential, Kagan. It’s why the Collective sent him to you for training.”

“And all this time I thought it was my charming personality.”

Tesha rose to her feet and placed the empty wine cup on the low table. “It is times like this when I truly grieve the loss of the Harshini. It is a sorry state of affairs indeed, when the choice of apprentice-master for a boy of Wrayan’s ability is a lazy, cynical old fool.” She lifted her chin and departed the room, her back straight and unrelenting.

“Ages come and ages go,” Kagan noted as he watched her leave, holding out his cup to Wrayan for a refill, “but that woman never changes.”

“You couldn’t have felt anything. How did you know she was trying to probe my mind?”

“She had that look on her face.”

“What look?”

“That constipated look of intense concentration she always gets when she thinks she’s using magic.”

Wrayan shook his head in amazement. Even after all this time, he couldn’t quite believe Kagan could have such a level of disrespect for his peers and still get away with being their leader. “You really are a troublemaker, Kagan. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” the High Arrion sighed. “I am a bad, bad man. If they had a Troublemakers’ Collective I’d probably be High Arrion of that, too. Shall we go to the party and upset a few more important people?”

Wrayan shook his head. Kagan was incorrigible. “What about Ronan Dell?”

“What about him?” Kagan shrugged.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to find out who killed him?”

“I know who killed him, Wrayan.”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to prove it, then?”

“Probably,” the High Arrion conceded. “But right now, all I can think of is that the world is rid of a monster who preyed on the weak and the helpless, and fed the sick appetites of our esteemed High Prince. The world is well rid of him, Wrayan. I might despise the Patriot Faction and everything they stand for, but sometimes I have to admit they do have excellent taste in their victims.”

M
arla was finished dressing and pacing her royal apartment impatiently by the time her brother arrived to escort her downstairs. A tall, gaunt man, although still only in his early thirties, Lernen had aged visibly since Marla had seen him last at his coronation. The responsibilities of High Prince had begun to weigh on him. His hair was dyed black this week, his cheeks were sunken and rouged and his brown eyes were dull with worry. This Convocation was his last hope, Marla knew. If the sorcerers wouldn’t aid them, the Wolfblades might soon be nothing more than a memory.

But the sorcerers
have
helped us
, she reminded herself.
I am to marry Nashan Hawksword and, once the sister of the High Prince of Hythria is allied in marriage to the Warlord of Elasapine, not the Patriots, not Barnardo Eaglespike, not even the Fardohnyans, will dare challenge us
.

“Marla, you look lovely,” Lernen told her as she presented herself for inspection, twirling around in a small circle in a swish of lavender silk. The dress had belonged to her cousin Ninane and had been re-sewn by Lirena to make it more fashionable.

“Is it really all right?” she asked, a little concerned. “It’s the feast of Kaelarn, the God of the Oceans, after all. I thought maybe I should be wearing blue.”

“It’s a lovely colour. Didn’t cousin Ninane have a dress the same shade last year when she was here for the Feast of Kalianah?”

“Lirena!”
Marla wailed in despair, her eyes filling with tears.

The old nurse rolled her eyes at the High Prince. “You really don’t think before you open that big mouth of yours, do you, Lernen Wolfblade?”

Lirena had nursed all the Wolfblade children and treated none of them as a slave should. Marla always wondered if Lernen was just a little bit afraid of his old nurse, a suspicion that seemed more than justified as the High Prince took a step back from the slave, apologising profusely.

“I can’t wear this!” Marla complained. “If Lernen noticed it’s a hand-me-down, everyone will!”

“Nobody will notice anything of the kind,” the old nurse assured her. “Your brother’s just more observant than most about that sort of thing, that’s all.”

“You truly are a vision,” Lernen added hurriedly. “Nobody will notice a thing, I promise. Now dry your eyes or you’re going to look all red and blotchy when you go downstairs.”

She sniffed inelegantly. “Are you sure nobody will notice?”

“Positive.” Lernen smiled at her encouragingly. “And if anybody does say something, then I’ll order him beheaded! How’s that?”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

“You’ll be fine, Marla.”

“I suppose . . .”

“But there is something we must talk about, my dear,” her brother continued with a frown. “Things are happening which affect you . . . danger all around us. One of my friends was murdered today . . . and now . . .” The High Prince’s voice trailed off helplessly, as if he couldn’t bring himself to add to her woes by telling her the rest of his news.

Her recycled dress forgotten, Marla brightened considerably when she realised what her brother was trying to say. “Oh Lernen, don’t look so distraught. I’m sorry about your friend, but I know what you’re going to tell me, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“You
couldn’t?”
Lernen glanced at Lirena with a puzzled look. The old nurse shrugged, as if to say,
who could fathom the fickle mind of a teenage girl
?

“I couldn’t be happier,” she repeated firmly.

“And you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ve always known I would have to marry someone you chose, but Lernen, I swear if I’d chosen him myself, I couldn’t have done better.”

“But you’d be so far away . . .”

“It’s not that far, silly. I’ll visit you as often as I want.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Marla? Really? He’s a little older than you, I know, and certainly not what I envisaged, but this alliance would mean we could do something about Barnardo—”

“Shoosh, big brother,” she said, placing her finger on his painted lips to silence his apology. “I understand, truly I do. It’s a sound political decision. And I honestly, truly, positively don’t mind a bit.”

“I don’t deserve such a sister,” he told her, with obvious relief. “But how did you learn of it? It was to be kept secret until the negotiations were completed.”

“We bumped into Lord Palenovar,” Lirena explained as she tidied up
the chaos Marla had left in her wake. “He let it slip that an offer had been made.”

Lernen nodded. “Kagan is the mediator for the negotiations. An interesting man, if somewhat disrespectful. I keep meaning to chide him for it, but I’d be lost without him. And his rank allows him some leeway, I suppose.”

“His rank?” Marla asked. “You mean because he’s the High Arrion?”

“He’s not just High Arrion, Marla, he’s a member of one of the oldest and most powerful noble families in Hythria. And the most ardent supporter of the Royalists in Greenharbour. I wouldn’t have a throne if not for him.”

Marla’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Then his apprentice—and his friends—would be of a similar political persuasion?”

“I suppose. I never really thought about it.”

So Nashan is a Royalist
, she concluded with satisfaction. “Oh, Lernen, you’ve made me so happy.” Impulsively she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Lernen held her stiffly, never comfortable with overt displays of affection from his sister.

“Yes, well, we should be getting downstairs,” he said, peeling her arms from around his neck.