The Queen's Assassin

by William King

  "It's dead," Rik shouted to Karl Mandrake.

  "It was dead from the time I first shot it."

  "How can you be so certain?"

  "The bullets were laced with dragonbane and notched so they broke up on impact. The poison was spread all through its body. It was only a matter of time before it went down."

  "The cannon shot might have had something to do with it too."

  Karl whipped away his mask. His brutal features were twisted in a crazed feral grin. "Aye, they might have," he said. "But I reckon you and I might still get medals for this."

  "Do notched bullets really split up?" Rik asked just to have something to say.

  "Aye - it's a nasty thing to do, but so is lacing them with poison in the first place."

  Rik could not disagree with that.

  Sardec leapt aside as the Wyrm raced by. He roared at the Foragers to take cover and prayed that none of them would be crushed. Moments later the out of control monster vanished down the street into the smoke and flames. He took stock. A bunch of corpses lay nearby. Smoke filled the air. Next to a wall a group of uniformed men had their hands held high while Weasel and the Barbarian stripped them of weapons. They were forcing the enemy soldiers to turn out their pockets and their purses as well, and Sardec saw no reason to stop them.

  From somewhere up ahead a horn sounded a long sad note. He heard cheering and screams and then more cheering. The horn sounded again, and then drums began to beat a slow, inexorable rhythm. As if in answer to the horns call, temple bells began to ring. More Kharadrean soldier's emerged from the alleys around them and began to throw down their arms. They kept shouting that they surrendered, and slowly it dawned on Sardec that the horn and the bells must have been a pre-arranged signal.

  Sergeant Hef rushed up to him. A Terrarch officer in the green uniform of the local militia accompanied him. His sword was held in the ritual position, hilt forward, balanced in the crook of his left arm.

  "Are you in charge here, Lieutenant?" asked the enemy officer. His face was smeared with soot. His eyes had a curiously empty look. There was a listless quality to his voice.

  "I am," Sardec replied.

  "Then I would be honoured if you would accept my surrender and that of my men. It appears that Halim has fallen."

  A broad smile spread across Sardec's lips. Enormous relief flooded through him. It looked like the siege was over and the Taloreans had won. Triumph filled him. They were victorious, and he was still alive to enjoy it. It looked like word had spread. Already the Foragers had begun to smash down doors and search within for their contents.

  This would not do, Sardec thought.

  "Get the men together, Sergeant," he said. "Why loot these hovels when there are palaces up ahead?"

  Hef nodded understanding. "Why indeed, sir? Why indeed?"

  Chapter Three

  Night lay over the camp of the victors. Funeral pyres burned bright as the still-blazing buildings within the city walls. The stink of burning flesh warred with incense. A vast space lay cleared between the tents of the Talorean commanders. In front of their pavilion stood the banners of the Armies of the South and of the East. In the middle of the southern edge of the impromptu square two high wooden thrones had been set up, and the Scarlet commanders sat waiting to accept the surrender of those they had conquered.

  Rik stood slightly behind and to the right of Asea in the group of watching Taloreans. She seemed to have recovered entirely from the backlash of her spell earlier. Now she looked exactly as poised and beautiful as she normally did. She smiled with that slightly shocked look that most of the officers had. They had ended this campaigning season with a stunning victory. The capital of Kharadrea was in their hands, and its Generals and nobility were all making the pilgrimage out to their camp to offer their surrender. He and Asea were close to the front of the ranks of observers so he had a good view of the proceedings.

  Rik studied the commanders closely. Lord Azaar was tall and lean. His body had a fragile wasted look. An antique silver mask obscured a face said to have been eaten away by some dread disease. His uniform was a simple functional red tunic. A long blade lay casually against the arm of the throne. His whole posture suggested fatigue and boredom.

  By contrast General Elakar sat open faced, in the modern fashion. His features could have been the absolute model of Terrarch beauty cast in bronze. He looked as arrogant and cruel as a dragon lord. His uniform was a gorgeous confection of scarlet silk, gold braid and rune-embossed buttons. He held the formal jewelled sceptre of a Viceroy in his hands. Between the two Generals and above them was Kathea. The Taloreans had already acknowledged her Queen of Kharadrea. Now they held the city where the rulers of the country were formally crowned. She looked regal in a long gown of green and red, not at all like the bedraggled and frightened figure Rik had rescued from the Serpent Tower.

  In the distance Rik heard the sound of music and merrymaking. He wondered how it was going in the city proper. An army freed from discipline and filled with relief at the end of a battle was a fearsome thing. Even its attempts to enjoy itself would be brutal. Rik guessed that many of the buildings that were alight in the city centre had not been when the western soldier's first entered the city. Many of the nobles who had come out to greet the Army's commanders were probably here as much for their own protection as to take part in the ritual of surrender.

  A huge number of people formed the column that emerged from the open gates of the city. No servants were allowed. Nobles held their own personal glowglobes on the end of their wands. Apprehension was written on every Kharadrean face. They had defied the approaching army and refused to surrender even when their city was surrounded. According to the normal protocols of war, the attackers were entitled to do with them what they willed.

  In truth they had very little choice. Their soldiers would expect something for the risks the defenders intransigence had forced them to run. The Talorean commanders had little option but to allow the traditional three days of rapine and looting. To do otherwise under the circumstances would have been to invite the mutiny of their own army. The question burning in the minds of the vanquished must be how much did the High Command of the Taloreans hold this against them?

  As they entered the square Elakar raised his sceptre and soldiers moved to stop the Kharadreans. Another gesture and a delegation of Terrarch nobles was allowed to come closer.

  "State your name," said Elakar. His voice was cold and cutting and gave no sign that he recognised the status of the defeated. If Lord Azaar resented having his fellow commander speak before him he gave no sign. If anything his posture became a fraction more bored and indolent. Kathea looked as if she wanted to speak, but dared not. She was not quite so secure in her power as the Taloreans wanted her people to think.

  "I am Telarn Vashaka, Lord Governor of Halim," said a stately, silver-haired old Terrarch. His face was lined and his skin seemed parchment thin in the witchlight. An air of weariness and sadness hung over him like a cloud. How old was he really, Rik wondered? What might have been signs of ageing in a human were often signs of disease in a Terrarch.

  "You are the one who chose to deny our legal request of surrender. You are the one who brought doom upon the people it was your lawful duty to protect."

  "I acknowledge that Lord Elakar. I ask clemency only for my people, not for myself."

  "The Queen's Soldiers were forced to fight. They have claimed their right of plunder."

  "Surely you would not punish all the citizens of Halim for an old dotard's folly," said Telarn. It was obvious that he had chosen to take all the responsibility for what had happened upon himself, possibly in the hope that his family and friends would be spared. It would have seemed noble to Rik, had it not seemed so futile. Nothing was going to stop the rape of the city now that it had begun. He had seen such things before, during the Clockmaker’s rebellion back in Talorea.

  "I don't think we have much choice in the matter," said Lord Azaar. "Events have taken the deci
sion out of our hands."

  Elakar looked at his fellow General as if shocked by his honesty. Rik guessed he was not a Terrarch who would ever admit to his own powerlessness. "Halim has resisted. Halim will pay the price," he said eventually. "In three days you will see what your folly has brought upon your city."

  "In three days I will not be alive to see it," said Telarn. "I will atone for my folly with my life."

  "Tell me why you chose to resist us?" Azaar asked. "It must have been obvious that you could not withstand our forces."

  "We were promised aid," said the Lord Governor of Halim. "It never came."

  "Who promised you this?"

  "King Khaldarus."

  "Khaldarus is not king," said Elakar. "He is a mere pretender to the throne that is rightfully his sister's."

  Telarn looked as if he wanted to disagree. For a moment his features became almost animated but then one of the accompanying delegation, a tall, fine-featured Terrarch woman, reached out and touched his hand.

  "It is as you say," he said, almost grudgingly.

  "Not only is he a pretender to the throne, he is a liar and a traitor to those who trusted him. As you have found out to your cost."

  "It is as you say, Lord Elakar. We have come to throw ourselves on your mercy and offer ourselves as hostages for our city. We place our fate in your hands, and request you show mercy as well as wisdom."

  "You may approach," said Elakar. "We will accept your surrender, and your parole."

  Elakar surveyed the approaching Kharadreans as if he had personally defeated every one of them in hand-to-hand combat and he expected applause and recognition for the deed. It was as if he, and not Azaar, was the famous General, and as if his plan, and not Azaar's had achieved the victory.

  One by one the Kharadreans approached and were announced. Elakar gestured his acknowledgment but said nothing. Occasionally Azaar spoke, greeting some old acquaintance among the conquered. There seemed to be a fair number of them. Eventually, after some hours the procession passed and was led off to a tented compound nearby. Azaar turned to Elakar and his fellow general nodded.

  "Halim has surrendered," Elakar said. "We are triumphant. Let our victory be celebrated."

  The Taloreans began to cheer. Azaar rose from his throne and limped wearily back to his pavilion.

  Sardec sat amid the ruins of the burned out building and looked at his men. Their uniforms were dirty, their faces smudged with soot but they looked happy and more than a little drunk. All of them carried sacks filled with plunder. The army had fallen on Halim like a swarm of locusts set on devouring a field of corn. Anything of the slightest value had been grabbed, any liquor or beer seized. Now men guzzled stolen food and glugged down stolen wine.

  Sardec did not blame them. They had risked their lives for months for the pittance the army paid them. This was their chance to get something for their trouble. Nonetheless he found it depressing. They were using tapestries as blankets and cloaks, and the frames of paintings burned on bonfires. In the distance he could hear the screaming of women, and now and again, a man would rise from the fires and head of in the direction of the sound. Some looked ashamed, some looked expectant but most of them went. A few men sat by the fires and muttered prayers against temptation, but some of those whom Sardec would have thought the most devout were among those most eager to head off. It was as if all normal rules of behaviour had been suspended. Laws did not apply in this time and place. Men could do now what they would have been hanged for at other times, and a significant number of them were taking advantage of that fact.

  Woe to the vanquished indeed, Sardec thought. He knew from previous experience that in a few days many of those men would be ashamed of what they were doing now. He supposed that they knew that as well as he, and yet it did not stop them. It constantly surprised him what war brought out in men. At times they could be selfless and heroic as saints, sacrificing their own lives as they tried to help fallen comrades. At other times they were little better than beasts.

  Out in the night now a whole city was being savaged by packs of marauders. Tens of thousands of people were suffering and thousands of their fellows were taking pleasure in that suffering, and making themselves richer while it happened.

  He thought of the elementals he had seen unleashed earlier today, demonic entities that could be trapped and compelled to do what a sorcerer wished. They were potent and yet they could not survive long away from the home planes. In this world they were like fish out of water or divers holding their breath deep below the surface of a river.

  Tonight another sort of demon had been let out of its bottle. He wondered how long it would take for it to vanish, or whether it ever truly did. The most terrifying thought for him was that perhaps it was there all the time, lurking behind the respectful faces of the men who followed him, and the servile grimaces of the servants. If that were the case he thought this whole world was in trouble.

  Perhaps those who said the Shadow made this world were right, he thought. He took another sip of victory wine. It tasted very sour.

  Azaar's tent was surprisingly spartanly furnished, Rik thought. He sat beside Lady Asea and a small number of the higher officers of the General's staff. A few eyed him resentfully, a few enviously, no doubt because of the carefully spread rumours that he was Asea's lover. Some of them looked at him calculatingly. His stock was high, and it was said that news of his bravery had reached the ears of the Queen of Talorea. They were no doubt trying to work out how to take advantage of that fact. It was the Terrarch way. Their lives were politics and politics were their lives. Now the same was true for him.

  Azaar gestured for his guests to be seated. Servants in the livery of his house produced wine and filled goblets. Azaar raised his glass. All present did the same.

  "To victory," he said. His voice was flat and dry, but it carried through the tent as clearly as a shout. Rik would have given a lot to master that trick.

  "To victory," the guests echoed.

  The glasses were refilled. "To her Majesty, Queen Arielle of Talorea."

  "To her majesty."

  "To her majesty, Queen Kathea of Kharadrea."

  "To her majesty."

  The General seemed to be taking a mocking pleasure in making the toasts and getting his guests drunk. Rik took only sips from each glass. He wanted a clear head this evening.

  The elaborately spiced food of the Terrarchs was set on the table. The drinking and chatter proceeded. "I thought Lord Elakar basked in his triumph very graciously," said a colonel from the far end of the table.

  "He was entitled to speak first," said Lady Asea. "The Queen gave him precedence."

  Rik's glance flickered from her to Azaar. Both of them were unreadable. They ought to be, having had thousands of years to practise hiding their thoughts. "He has the airs of a Viceroy," said someone else.

  "And the garb of one too," said the Colonel. “Where did he dig up that sceptre?”

  "We are not here to rule Kharadrea," said Azaar. His voice was flat and calm but there were compulsions in it that commanded belief, despite the subtle hints of mockery. More magic, Rik thought. "We are here to see that Queen Kathea gains what is rightfully hers."

  "It would seem our job is almost done then," said the Colonel. "The capital is ours. The nobles are lining up to swear fealty to Kathea, and we have not seen hide nor hair of the damned Sardeans."

  Azaar's tone was dry. "It's always been easier to get the Kharadreans to swear fealty than to make them keep their oaths. They are sworn to Kathea now because we appear to be winning. They will follow Khaldarus next year if our luck turns in the field."

  "Surely that is not likely," said the Colonel. "We have shown the Sardeans for the cowards they are. The Dark Empire has not dared interfere with our conquest of Kharadrea."

  "I repeat we are not here to conquer Kharadrea, Colonel. We are here to put its Queen on her throne. And if you believe the Sardeans are afraid of us I fear you are sadly misled."

 
; "Why have they not committed their armies then, Lord Azaar?" asked Colonel Xeno, the commander of the Seventh.

  "Possibly because they have not been asked to, by the Pretender," said Azaar. A round of groans told Rik how unlikely everyone present thought that to be. Only Asea did not join the general murmuring. Her attention seemed entirely focused on Lord Azaar.

  "Perhaps because they wish his position to become precarious," she said. "They want him to know exactly how beholden he is to them. They want it to be obvious that he has no chance to defeat Queen Kathea on his own."

  That silenced the diners. "And perhaps because they want us to be fully committed before they intervene," added Azaar. "Then they can sweep in as saviours of Kharadrea from the oppressive Talorean invader, and they can catch all our armies of the east in the field at once."

  Azaar's bright malicious gaze turned to Rik. "What do you think, young man?" he asked.

  Rik felt all eyes drawn to him. He was uncomfortable being the centre of attention but he considered the question for a moment. "There is another possibility."

  Someone laughed. Rik kept his face composed. He knew that whatever he said someone among the Terrarchs would mock him for it.

  "Go on," said Azaar. If he was offended by the fact that a young half-breed was suggesting he might have missed something, he gave no sign of it.

  "The Sardeans may be divided among themselves over what to do. There are always at least two factions at any court. There will be those who oppose this war."

  Colonel Xeno laughed. "The Sardeans are the most war-like people on Gaeia."

  "They have kept the Peace of Oslande for over a century," said Asea. "We are the ones who have broken it."

  "In order to see justice is done and Sardean ambition is contained," said the Colonel. His lips quirked. He knew exactly how cynical what he was saying sounded, but he was a Terrarch.

  "Our young friend is right," said Azaar. "There will be those in Sardea who oppose conflict. War is always risky no matter how powerful your army or how just your cause.”