Traitor's Moon: The Nightrunner Series, Book 3

by Lynn Flewelling

  Beka and the others returned to the guest house through a hazy red dawn, hoarse, light-headed, and covered in soot. The quiver holding Torsin’s ashes hung warm against her thigh as she rode. In the end, they’d had to break the longer bones to fit them in.

  Mercalle was standing by the stable with the day’s courier, Urien, and his guide. The Akhendi had a nasty-looking bruise over his right cheekbone.

  “What happened to you, my friend?” Nyal asked, squinting at him with smoke-reddened eyes.

  The man gave him a cool stare and shrugged. “A slight disagreement with some of your kinsmen.”

  “Some of the Ra’basi support Virésse,” Mercalle told Beka, not looking at the interpreter.

  “I’m sure we’ll get it all sorted out by the time the vote comes around,” Beka replied.

  “Captain!” a rider called out from the kitchen doorway. “Captain Beka, are you there?”

  Beka turned and saw Kipa looking anxiously around the yard.

  “Oh, there you are, Captain,” she called, spotting Beka. “I’ve been watching for you. Lord Thero said I was to bring you as soon as you came in.”

  “Is it Klia? Has she—?” Beka asked, following the younger woman inside.

  “I don’t know, Captain, but it sure feels like bad news.”

  Beka could hardly breathe as she ran up to Klia’s room. Mydri met her in the doorway, balancing a basin full of bloody water and rags against one hip.

  “She took a bad turn last night,” she told Beka. “She’s sleeping again. For now.”

  The bedchamber’s window was shuttered, the room lit only by the glow of a sizable bed of coals on the hearth. The stench of blood and seared flesh still hung heavily on the air. Thankfully, all other evidence of the amputation had been cleared away.

  Klia lay pale and still, thick new bandages swathed around her hand. Seregil and Alec slept awkwardly in chairs beside the bed. Judging by their plain, rumpled clothing, they’d been about their own business most of the night.

  Beka took a step toward the bed, then tensed as movement in a far corner caught her eye. Her hand flew to her knife.

  “It’s me,” Thero whispered, coming far enough into the light for her to make out his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

  “I suppose it’s best that it’s over with,” Beka said, pushing away the image of those severed fingers.

  “I only hope she survives the shock of it,” said Thero. “She’s shown no signs of waking and it worries me, and Mydri, as well.”

  Seregil opened his eyes, then nudged Alec’s knee. The younger man jerked awake and looked around blearily.

  “Any trouble at the funeral?” he asked, voice raw with exhaustion.

  “No. The ’faie who showed up gave him a good send-off. Were you here?” She gestured at Klia’s bandaged hand.

  “No. We just got back a little while ago,” said Alec.

  Seregil hooked a chair her way, then passed her a half-full flask of wine. “Here, you’ll need this.”

  Beka drank deeply, then looked around at the others. “So, now what’s happened?” Her heart sank when Thero sealed the room, then pulled a letter folded in Magyana’s characteristic fashion from the air.

  “Something none of us thought possible,” he told her. “This is hard to make out. I’ll read it for you. It begins, ‘My friends, I write you as I flee Mycena and the queen’s displeasure. Phoria has ordered an attack against Gedre to secure the port.’ ”

  Beka let out a gasp of disbelief. “An attack!”

  Seregil motioned her to silence.

  “ ‘There is a spy in your midst,’ ” Thero continued. “ ‘Someone has been sending reports of the Iia’sidra’s reluctance to act. I have seen these with my own eyes. In this way the queen also learned that it was I who sent you word of the old queen’s death. I am banished.

  “ ‘Make no mistake; Phoria was preparing for such a strike in any case. Recent attacks on Skala’s western shores have given her the excuse she needed to secure the support for this madness. Her recent victories in Mycena have cemented the loyalty of most. Generals who a month ago would have questioned such an action now support her. Those who don’t keep silent in the wake of the execution of General Hylus.’ ”

  “Hylus?” said Beka. “Why in the world would she execute him? He was a brilliant tactician, and a loyal soldier.”

  “Loyal to Idrilain,” Seregil observed with a cynical frown. “Go on, Thero.”

  “ ‘Prince Korathan left Rhíminee harbor with three fast warships yesterday at dawn. I believe he means to approach under the flag of a messenger ship and take the port by surprise. The surprise is more likely to be his. He might be reasoned with, if only you can find some way to prevent his arrival! Even if he is able to secure Gedre, whatever brief advantage this might afford will never offset the loss of Aurënen as an ally. If the ’faie turn against us now, what hope have we for Skala and the Orëska?’ That’s all she says.” Thero folded the letter, and it vanished between his fingers.

  Beka rested her head in her hands, feeling ill. “Bilairy’s Balls. Does the Iia’sidra know?”

  “Not yet, as far as we can tell,” Alec replied. “Everyone is still busy accusing everyone else of poisoning Klia.”

  “It’s only a matter of time before news leaks out,” Seregil cautioned. “This will undo everything. Not only is it an act of war, but it proves every suspicion Ulan has raised about Phoria’s motives.”

  “How could Phoria do this?” asked Alec. “Doesn’t she understand what this means? Klia could be killed, or held hostage.”

  “Phoria’s a general,” Beka told him. “In war generals spend the lives of a few to gain advantage for the rest. She’s decided we’re expendable. Still—her own sister?”

  Seregil let out a bitter laugh. “Klia’s always been the people’s darling, and the cavalry’s. Now, with Korathan being promoted and their other brothers dead, she’s next in line as High Commander of the Queen’s Cavalry. It’s her right by birth, unless Aralain is forced into it. I don’t think Phoria wants her youngest sister quite so powerful.”

  “Phoria is using what’s happened here to double advantage,” said Thero. “Klia is gotten out of the way, and Phoria gains justification for taking what she wants from Aurënen.”

  Shock was already giving way to anger. Beka rose, pulse racing the way it did before a raid. “We have to get Klia away to safety before the ’faie find out.”

  Thero shook his head. “She’s far too ill to move.”

  “What about by magic?”

  “Especially not by magic,” Thero replied. “Even if we could find someone to do a translocation, the flux would kill her.”

  “She’s safe here,” said Seregil.

  “How can you say that? Beka snapped, rounding on him. “Take a good look at her! This is what all their talk of guest laws and sacred ground amounts to. Now they’re fighting each other in the streets!”

  “I wouldn’t have thought it possible, not in Sarikali,” Seregil admitted. “But now we know the danger, and we’re guarded by your riders and by the Bôkthersans.”

  “I’ve put protections in place around the grounds,” Thero added. “No one will get in or visit any magicks on us without my knowing about it.”

  “That still leaves us trapped here when word of Korathan’s mission gets out,” Beka growled.

  “I know,” said Seregil. “That’s why we’ve got to do as Magyana’s asked—try to head him off before anyone’s the wiser.”

  “How do you suggest we manage that? I doubt sending him a polite note is going to do it, even if it got to him in time.”

  Seregil exchanged a veiled look with Alec. “I think it’s time I prove Idrilain right in sending me along.”

  “There’s a traitor’s moon tonight,” Alec told her, as if that explained everything.

  Seregil chuckled. “How’s that for an omen, eh?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Beka demanded. “We’ve got to find
a way to stop Korathan—” Breaking off, she stared at him. “You’re not saying you mean to go?”

  “Well, Alec and I.”

  Alec grinned. “Know anyone else you trust with this information who can pass as Aurënfaie?”

  “But the proscriptions! If you’re caught they’ll kill you. And maybe Alec, too!”

  Suddenly it wasn’t a spy or coconspirator she was looking at but the man who’d been friend and uncle to her since her birth, who’d carried her on his shoulders, brought exotic presents, and taught her the finer points of fighting. And Alec—Tears stung her eyes and she turned quickly away.

  Seregil clasped her shoulders, turning her to face him again. “Then we’d damn well better not get caught,” he told her. “Besides, we’ll be in Akhendi territory, then Gedre. They may haul me back, but they won’t hurt me. I know it’s risky, but there’s no other way. Your father would understand. I’m hoping you will, too. We need your help, Captain.”

  The subtle rebuke stung just enough to clear her head. “All right, then. What’s the soonest Korathan will reach Gedre?”

  “With a good following wind? Four or five days. We can reach the coast in three and sail out to meet him before he comes in sight of the port.”

  “Time enough, barring accidents,” she said, frowning. “But I still say it’s suicide for you to go. Perhaps Alec and I could pull it off, or Thero.”

  Seregil shook his head. “Korathan is going to take a lot of convincing to cross his sister, and with all due respect, I think I’m the one who can best carry that off. He knows me, and he knows the regard his mother had for me. Loyal as he is to Phoria, he’s the more reasonable of the pair. I think I can sway him.”

  “How do you plan to reach Gedre without getting caught? I assume someone will go after you as soon as they find out you’re missing.”

  “They’ll have to find us first. There are other routes over the mountains. The one I have in mind is tough going in places, but shorter than the trail we came over. My uncle used to bring us down that way on smuggling runs.”

  “Are those passes protected by magic, too?” asked Thero. “If anything happens to you, what will Alec do? He can’t get through that any more than we could.”

  “We’ll worry about that when we need to,” Seregil replied. “Right now we need to figure out a way to get out of the city without being seen.”

  “The moon’s in our favor, at least,” said Alec. “With Aurënfaie clothes and horses, we shouldn’t attract much attention. It could be morning before we’re missed.”

  “Perhaps longer, if I can manage a few tricks,” said the wizard.

  “You could go out as escorts with one of my dispatch riders,” Beka mused. “Steal different horses once you’re well away from the city, while the rider takes yours with her and leaves a false trail.”

  “Sometimes I forget whose daughter you are,” chuckled Seregil. His smile faded as he continued, however. “We have to keep this among ourselves. Except for the rider, no one else can know, not even our own people, since anyone who does will be forced to lie sooner or later.

  “Play up Klia’s illness, Beka. Keep the Iia’sidra away from her as long as you can. If you do get trapped here, Adzriel will protect you, even if it means claiming you as hostages.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll see Bôkthersa before I do.”

  “That still leaves us penned in here with a spy.” Thero shook his head in disgust. “Ever since I read that letter, I’ve been wondering how someone could have been spying on us under our very noses. If they’d used magic, I swear I’d have sensed it!”

  “Torsin managed to carry on his business without our tumbling for quite some time,” Seregil reminded him. “That didn’t take any magic.”

  “But with Klia’s knowledge,” the wizard countered.

  “When I find out who it is, they’ll wish for poison!” hissed Beka, clenching a fist against her thigh. “There must be some way of flushing them out.”

  “I was thinking about that earlier,” Alec said. “You’re not going to like this, but what about the dispatch riders? It would be easy enough for them to slip a message through, since they’re the ones carrying them. They’re also the last ones to handle the pouch before it’s sealed.”

  “Mercalle’s decuria?” Beka snorted. “By the Flame, Alec, we’ve been through Bilairy’s gate and back together!”

  “Not all of them. What about the new ones? Phoria could have turned one of them.”

  “Or had them placed in Urgazhi Turma before this ever started,” added Seregil. “In her place, that’s what I’d have done. Knowing Phoria, she’d want eyes and ears anywhere she could get them—especially among Klia’s troops.”

  Beka shook her head stubbornly. “We lost half of Mercalle’s decuria during the battle on the way over here. Ileah, Urien, and Ari are all that are left of the new recruits, and they’re just pups. As for the rest, Zir and Marten have been with me since the turma was formed. I know them. They’ve saved my life a dozen times over and I’ve done the same for them. They’re loyal to the marrow of their bones.”

  “Just let me speak with Mercalle,” Alec persisted. “She’s closer to them than anyone. Maybe she’s seen something, something she didn’t even know was suspicious.”

  But Beka still hesitated. “Do you know what even the hint of this could do to the others? I need them united.”

  “It won’t go beyond this room,” Alec promised. “If anything does come up, Thero can deal with it with total secrecy. But we have to know.”

  Beka cast an imploring look at Seregil but found no help there. “All right, then, send for Mercalle.” She looked down at Klia. “But don’t question her here. Not here.”

  “We can use my room,” said Thero. He flicked a tiny message sphere into being and sent it skittering through the wall with a wave of his hand.

  The cooler air in the wizard’s chamber seemed to clear Seregil’s head, enough for him to feel chagrin at not having arrived at Alec’s conclusions himself.

  Alec had been right all along—and the rhui’auros, too. Since he’d come back to Aurënen, he’d been too wrapped up in his own past, his own demons, to be of much use to anyone. Perhaps it went back even further than that. In rejecting Rhíminee, had he buried the man he’d been there, the Rhíminee Cat? I’d have been dead a hundred times over, or starved for lack of trade, if I was like this all the time.

  He sat down in the chair next to Thero’s neatly made bed; the others remained standing.

  Mercalle entered a few moments later and came to attention in front of Thero, oblivious to the tension in the room. “You sent for me, my lord?”

  “It was me, Sergeant,” Alec told her, and Seregil could see him rubbing a thumb nervously over the fingers of one hand. Alec admired the Urgazhi and had always been a bit in awe of them. To bring such an accusation against them was a difficult duty, and no less so for being self-imposed.

  Once committed, however, he didn’t hesitate. “We have reason to believe that there’s a spy in the household,” he told her. “Someone who’s able to get messages back to Queen Phoria. I’m sorry to say this, but it could be someone in your decuria.”

  The greying sergeant stared at him in shocked silence, and Seregil felt a cold jolt of certainty. Oh, hell, she does know something.

  “This is hard, I know,” Alec went on. “The idea of any Urgazhi putting Klia in danger—”

  Mercalle wavered a moment, then sank to her knees in front of Beka. “Forgive me, Captain, I never thought it would come to this!” Eyes averted, she drew the dagger from her belt and offered it hilt foremost.

  Beka made no move to accept the offered weapon. Her face had gone blank, but Seregil recognized the pain in her eyes and fought down the impulse to grab the sergeant by the hair and shake her. Mercalle and Braknil had trained Beka when she’d first joined the regiment. Both had requested to serve under her when she earned her lieutenant’s gorget. Between the three of them, they’d forged Urga
zhi Turma.

  That first betrayal—it’s always the worst, the one that never quite heals.

  “Stand and explain yourself,” Beka ordered.

  Mercalle rose slowly to attention. “I’m glad it’s come out, Captain. I offer no excuses, but on my honor I hoped it would be for the best. I swear it by Sakor’s Flame.”

  “Just get on with it.”

  “General Phoria summoned me the night Queen Idrilain gave Klia this mission,” Mercalle said. “She believed her mother wouldn’t survive to see this out. As heir, she wanted her own informant on the scene.”

  “But why you?” Beka demanded, and this time there was no mistaking the grief behind the words.

  Mercalle stared at the far wall, not looking at her. “Phoria was the first officer I ever served under. With respect, Captain, I came up through the ranks under her before you were born. We saw dark times together—and good ones, too. She was there when I married both my husbands, and when I buried them. I’m not proud of what she’s asked of me here, but orders are orders and she was in her rights as High Commander. I thought, ‘If not me, then she’ll find someone who doesn’t feel the loyalty I do to Klia,’ and to you, Captain. All I was asked to do was to send observations. That’s all I did. I never opened any letters entrusted to me, or mislaid any. If what I wrote contradicted them, it’s on my head. I only told the truth as I saw it, and tried to put the best light on it that I could for Commander Klia’s sake. If I’d ever thought it would come to this—” A tear rolled slowly down her cheek. “I’d cut off my sword hand before I’d willingly bring harm to any of you.”

  “Did you send word that we knew of the queen’s death?” asked Seregil.

  “I sent my respects, my lord. I thought you all had.”

  “Then it was you, listening outside the door of Klia’s room when we learned of it,” said Alec.

  Mercalle shot him another startled look. “Just for a bit. Those were orders, too.”

  Seregil recalled the bit of stable muck they’d found in the corridor outside and shook his head. Bilairy’s Balls, it was a good thing one of them had retained some sense.