The Blood King

by Gail Z. Martin

  Carroway returned to eat with them, and then went back to the great room with a promise to be their eyes and ears. Carina noticed a burn on Lars' daughter Lara's arm. She smiled gratefully as Carina healed it to a faint, pink scar. Tabethe, the innkeeper's wife, prevailed on Carina for help with a bad back. In return, she brought the group food and ale until they could eat no more.

  "Picked a good night to be inside-it's still raining out there," Vahanian observed from his post near the door. Tris sat toward the corner, out of the way of the busy kitchen staff. Jae lazed near the hearth, much to Lara's amusement, who dropped bits of venison near the little gyregon until it finally fell asleep, completely sated. "What's got you so deep in thought?"

  Tris looked up from the diary of the Obsidian King. "Just looking for anything I can in the diary. I was hoping we could get an early start," he said with a glance toward Tabethe, who was bustling near the fire, "but our business has to start and end on the main night."

  Beside him, Kiara dozed in a chair until it was her turn on watch. Carina slipped into the great room with Carroway. Tris immersed himself in the small, tight handwriting that crowded the precious diary.

  What he found troubled him. Tris hoped to find a way to approach Arontala before the Hawthorn Moon, destroying the orb and the dark mage before Arontala could even begin his working to free the Obsidian King's spirit. But as Tris studied the journal, it became clear that the only way magic worked on a witches' moon could be dispelled was on that same eve of power. An advance strike was doomed to fail. Only on the night of the working could he intervene and destroy both the orb and the one who sought to escape it. Their opportunity for victory was much smaller than he had hoped.

  "Do you think Riqua was right about Lemuel?" Vahanian asked. He kept a wary eye on the rear window and leaned against the wall near the door, his hand close to his sword.

  Tris put the book down and blinked to ease his tired eyes. "That he got trapped and taken along for the ride, so to speak?" he asked, being deliberately vague because of the innkeepers' family within earshot. " Yes. It makes sense with what I heard from... 'my sisters,'" he added, thinking it unwise to refer to the Sisterhood by name.

  Vahanian caught the evasion and chuckled. "I like that. Your sisters." He sobered. "Poor guy, if that's what happened to him. So he's been a prisoner-all these years-in that big ball you talk about?"

  Tris cast a glance toward Tabethe and Lara, but they seemed wholly unconcerned with the conversation, bustling about the front of the kitchen to serve their festival-bound guests. "Grandmother apparently thought so. Who knows if he even exists anymore? I know that's where Kait is-and possibly mother, too. When this is over, if their spirits survived, I hope I can send them to their rest."

  Just then, there was a tap at the door. Kiara roused from her nap and straightened. Vahanian moved quickly, his hand on his sword as the door opened. Gabriel stepped in, shaking the rain from his cloak. "So this is where you are," the vayash moru said. "Tired of my accommodations?" Tris feared the innkeeper's wife might run screaming from the room, but Tabethe merely afforded Gabriel a nod.

  "Good evenin', m'lord," she said, as Lara went for a mug. "Deer's fresh today, if you want a nip."

  Gabriel smiled and gave a shallow bow in greeting. "I would be grateful, dear lady. Many thanks."

  Tabethe refused Gabriel's gold when she realized he was with Tris and the others. With all that Jared had done to foster fear of the vayash moru among the people, Tris gave Tabethe credit for her matter-of-fact greeting; a sign, he thought, that at least some in Margolan saw through Jared's fear-mongering.

  When the last of the great room patrons had departed, Carroway and Carina came through the door from the outer room, followed by three musicians whom Tris immediately recognized as Carroway's inner circle at court. First through the door was a man just a little older than Carroway, with touseled, short blond hair framing a youthful face with mischievous blue eyes. Next was a slip of a girl who looked barely more than sixteen summers old, carrying a flute. She had lank, dark hair, and cynical brown eyes. Beside Carroway was a tall young woman with short dark hair and violet eyes. She had a lyre over her shoulder.

  "Look who we found!" Carroway grinned, and the musicians looked from the bard to Tris as if they had seen a ghost. "You remember Helki, Paiva and Macaria-from back home?"

  "By the Lady, can it be?" asked Helki with a gasp. "My prince!" he exclaimed. Carroway made hushing gestures. To Tris's chagrin, the three minstrels bowed low.

  Lars came through the door just then, with a small bag of coins for the minstrels. "I have your pay, unless you're of a mind to leave without it," the innkeeper said, stooping to pick up a coin that fell. He froze, looking at Jared's image on the gold piece, and then rose slowly, looking from the coin to Tris and back again as if the coin might burn him.

  "M'lord mage," the innkeeper croaked. "I mean no disrespect, but 'tis the Lady's truth that there is a powerful resemblance between you and the king."

  "The minstrel called him 'my prince,' just now," Tabethe said, nervously edging toward Lars.

  Resigned, Tris stood and spread his hands. "I didn't mean to deceive you," he said to the innkeeper, who looked pale with fear. Vahanian and Gabriel moved closer to him, and Kiara stood, her hand near her sword. "I wanted to spare you the burden of dangerous knowledge. You're correct. I'm Martris Drayke."

  The innkeeper gasped and then elbowed his wife, who stood with her mouth open. "Curtsey, you fool," Lars whispered as he made an awkward bow. Tabethe, after a moment, found the presence of mind to attempt an equally unpracticed curtsey, and nearly lost her footing. Lara and Toby stared wide-eyed from near the wall.

  "The rumors are true then!" Lars exclaimed, finding his voice. "By the Goddess! Prince Martris lives! Oh me, and what I've said, please, my prince, take no offense-"

  Tris smiled at the innkeeper's flustered apology. "None taken. We're grateful for your shelter, both before, when we fled for our lives, and now, when we're still in danger. I don't wish to put your family at risk. If you'll keep the secret of our passing, we'll leave."

  "On a night like this?" the innkeeper cried. "My prince, we're honored to have you under our roof. Oh my, what am I thinking? There's royalty in the inn, and we've got them in the kitchen!"

  Tris burst out laughing. "Good sir," Tris said, "Believe me when I tell you that yours are the best accommodations we've had in many a fortnight."

  Lars brightened, blushing with pride. "Truly? We're honored, Your Highness. You're welcome to sleep in our own rooms, humble as they are, rather than here in the kitchen."

  "We're quite comfortable here, near the fire, with some bedding if there's any to spare," Tris said. He was grateful for the man's offer, but preferred the quick exit of the back door. "But I beg of you, for your own sakes, tell no one that you've seen us."

  Lars looked shrewdly at Tris and the others. For the first time, the innkeeper took in their swords and the manner of both Kiara and Vahanian, which clearly spoke of battle training. "I take your meaning. There can be but one reason you've returned, my prince. And if there's aught that we can do to help you, just ask. All we have is at your service." With that pledge, Lars knelt, and his family also.

  "Please, rise," Tris said. "Tonight we're happier than you can know with a warm meal and a roaring fire. But now you know why I welcome your news and your rumors from the city-and why I'm anxious to hear what these minstrels have to tell us."

  "We'll leave you to your business," said Lars, motioning to his family. "If you need aught, just call. No one will bother you in here. I'll stay in the great room myself, to make sure."

  "Thank you," Tris said. "We're in your debt."

  "The prince himself, in my inn!" Lars murmured as he turned toward the door. He was still talking to himself in amazement as he left the kitchen. Tris sat, bidding the others to do the same. Vahanian took up a post at the great room door, while Gabriel moved closer to the outer door.

  "Can we trus
t him?" Kiara asked. She sat next to Tris as he motioned for the minstrels to gather round.

  Tris looked toward the door through which Lars had gone. "We have no reason not to, and every reason to believe him. He's right-where would we go, in this weather, that would be safer?"

  "You can trust Lars, my prince," said Helki. "If you want to know the truth of it, he's run something of a resistance out of this inn. It hasn't been safe for us to stay near the palace. Lars took us in-glad for the entertainment, no doubt, but watchful that when guards came, we could make ourselves scarce. Many times, Lars and his family have hidden people fleeing King Jared. Some of the palace staff, and not a few deserters from the army, have passed this way. They spread the word among themselves as to which are the safe houses, and they are spirited away, as if on a ghost carriage."

  Helki looked at his companions, whose expressions still reflected their utter amazement at seeing Tris and the others. "By the Mother and Childe! It's good to see you well, my prince."

  "What can you tell us about Shekerishet since we left?" Tris pressed.

  "Nothing good, Your Highness." It was Macaria spoke up. Tris suppressed a smile, knowing that the dark-haired musician caught Carroway's eye. She seemed to be completely unaware of Carroway's attention, even now, when the minstrel watched her with unabashed joy. "I don't know how far news travels, or what you've heard, but it's been terrible.

  "Some of the bards have gone missing altogether," Macaria said. "Though whether dead or in hiding, I don't know. I've heard that Lady Eadoin is hiding some of the court musicians, the ones Jared particularly disliked. Eadoin's brother's family was killed for harboring fugitives. We managed to keep out of Jared's sights, but I've heard tell of minstrels who have been hanged for singing tales about King Bricen, or telling a story that raised Jared's ire. In the city, the king's guards are always prowling around, looking for someone to make an example of. They've beaten men in the street for telling jokes about the king, and dragged others out in the middle of the night for one 'crime' or another. No one ever sees the poor blokes again."

  "How is it you're here?" Carroway asked, and Tris noted that Carroway never took his eyes off Macaria as he spoke. She didn't seem to notice.

  "We left the city during the winter," Paiva said. "One step ahead of the guards. Since then, we've made what living we could singing for our keep in taverns, playing for our supper at the baker's and butcher's, and begging, if you want to know the truth of it." She sighed. "But there's been talk all Spring that something would be afoot at the Hawthorn Moon, and so we thought that with the crowds and all, we'd chance going back." Paiva grinned, and elbowed Carroway good-naturedly. "Looks like our pretty bird here has landed himself smack in the middle of a revolution!"

  "You don't know the half of it!" Carroway said. "But if you're game, and you're tired of Jared on the throne, there's a part you could play."

  "We're in," Helki said. "Anything to be rid of that bloody tyrant!"

  The group huddled around the table. "While Tris and the others do what they need to do," Carroway said, "I thought that perhaps Carina and I-with your help-could stir up a little riot or two in the city. There's another friend of ours, a hedge witch named Alyzza, who's headed this way as well. What do you think-can we work up a mob?"

  Macaria grinned wickedly. "Like that's a hard thing, with all the ale that'll be flowing?" The other bards laughed. "'Tis the Lady's truth-the only ones getting rich from Jared's rule are the barley growers and the rum smugglers, since any that haven't left the country drink to drown their sorrows."

  "Out here in the country, the songs I get the most requests for are the ones they'll hang you for in the city-the stories of King Bricen's battles, and of King Hotten's victory, and about the sorceress Bava K'aa," said Helki. "I dare say that might get a crowd going."

  Paiva snorted. "I can do you one better than that. Remember the songs we heard up in

  Ghorbal, the ballads about the maidens taken by the king's men, and the empty village with its ghosts? Had the biggest men in the room dabbing their eyes as they swilled their ale. I wager we could write a few more like that, to remind them what's been stolen from them and get them in an ugly mood." The girl's lip curled into a devious smile. "I'll get to work on it."

  Helki looked at Tris. "My prince, you've got to be careful. King Jared's sorcerer is a demon. He's grown strong on blood these many months, like a big red spider. Even if you can take Shekerishet, how will you stop Arontala?"

  "He's a Summoner, he is," said Toby. Tris and the others looked up to see the innkeeper's son, who had been watching wide-eyed from near the fireplace. "Saw it myself, I did. Talked to the ghost that was busting up the place, and made him plain for all to see. Had a conversation with him, he did. Got robbed, poor bloke, and so I took word to his family the next day, to help him to his rest. He's a Summoner, by the Lady, he is!"

  "Really?" Macaria asked.

  "Do you remember the ballad we used to sing, about the ghosts of the Ruune Videya?" Carroway asked.

  Macaria gasped. "There were wild stories that the forest is no longer haunted. You mean they're true? How?"

  "You wouldn't really want to know," Vahanian said from his post near the door. "Trust me on that."

  "Tris did it-we were there. And that was before Tris trained with the Sisterhood," Carroway added. "He can handle Arontala."

  "My prince," Helki said. "We're honored to help with your return. We'll do as Carroway bids, and help you raise your diversion. I'd rather die fighting than spend the rest of my life running away."

  Macaria and Paiva murmured their agreement.

  "You may help to win the night," Tris said with a tired smile. "Carroway taught me a long time ago never to underestimate a bard!"

  "I don't mean to spoil the reunion," Kiara said, nudging Tris, "but it'll be daylight soon, and I think we might ride better with a little rest."

  "By your leave, my prince, we'll keep watch in the outer room," Helki offered. With Tris's nod, the minstrels took their leave.

  "I'll go with them," Carroway said, standing. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

  Tris looked at the others after the bards were gone. "Every time I hear us say aloud what we intend to do, it sounds too far-fetched to be possible. The damndest thing is, I haven't come up with a better idea."

  "That's what makes it brilliant," Kiara said. She found a chair with a back and drew it up near the fireplace, where the banked embers made a warm red heap in the center. "No one else will think we're crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that."

  "I really wish you wouldn't put it quite that way," Vahanian objected. He gladly gave up his post for Gabriel to stand watch, and stretched out on one of the empty tables with his cloak over him. Carina and Tris found tables or benches of their own, and drew up close to the hearth.

  "I've found that the Lady blesses the most unlikely of heroes," Gabriel observed from near the door. "Let's hope that Her blessing is on equally unlikely tactics."

  Tris echoed that hope as he drifted off to sleep, resolutely determined to enjoy a last night of warmth and safety before they reached the outskirts of the palace city.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  By mid-morning, Tris and his friends left the Sparrow's Roost, with the innkeeper's pledge of secrecy and saddlebags full of wine and provisions. Helki and the minstrels promised to meet up with Carroway and Carina by the fourth bell on the night of the Hawthorn Moon in the Bristle Boar Inn, a favorite with local musicians. They set out, blending with the festival crowd, heading for Shekerishet. The rain was over, and the early summer days warmed considerably as the skies cleared.

  To avoid being conspicuous, Tris and the others split up the party as they rode. Tris and Carroway rode together ahead of the others. Kiara and Carina rode behind. Kiara bound up her long hair and secured it beneath a cap. She wore a man's tunic and pants that hid her figure well and made it unremarkable for her to carry a sword. Vahanian rode rear guard, on alert for trouble. They
stuck to the back roads as much as they could. There were more travelers on the road than they had seen in other parts of Margolan, but not the crush of people Tris had expected so near the city just before a major festival.

  Trouble found them a day's ride outside the palace city. "Look there," Carroway noted under his breath as they rode, and Tris froze in his saddle. Six Margolan guardsmen rode toward them in the livery of the king, boisterously taking up more than their half of the road and crowding other travelers into the ditch. Tris struggled to relax as the guardsmen rode closer, dropping his head and turning his face to the side as the soldiers passed without a second glance.

  "What have we here?" one of the guards said as they rode toward Carina and Kiara. Without turning, Tris and Carroway slowed their mounts to narrow the gap between them and the women. When neither of Tris's companions replied the guard captain drew closer, matching the women's pace.

  "A pretty lady," another soldier said, side-stepping his horse to block Carina's path.

  Tris steeled himself not to turn. He let his mount slow further so that he could catch every word. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Carroway gripped his reins white-knuckled, anticipating a fight.

  "I'm a healer," Carina returned haughtily. "I've been summoned by a merchant in the city and I must not delay. Please move aside."

  "You've strange tastes in escorts, if you pick a beardless one like that," the third soldier said, still blocking the road.

  "We've been on duty for a long time," the captain said, moving closer to Carina. "The company of a lovely lady would be very much appreciated."

  "Move aside," Carina repeated, but the guards now blocked their way completely.

  "That's no soldier with her," one said suspiciously. "They're both wenches."

  The captain chuckled. "There's a clearing over there. Let's go." He drew his sword.

  Kiara's draw was lightning quick, blocking the captain's sword. Jae, on his way back from hunting, descended with a shriek, raking his talons across the soldier's face. At the sound of drawn steel, Tris and Carroway wheeled their horses. Vahanian galloped in from the rear, standing in his stirrups, sword aloft.