Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  Katarina held up one hand, "Have you brought your concerns to Solis's attention?"

  Benedykt's mouth snapped shut. For just a moment, his gaze flicked over to Earl Joris. I wonder, she thought, if he was put up to this.

  "Uh," Benedykt said, "no, my Lady. I only just finished my own estimates of our supplies, and I didn't think to bring it to his attention until I realized the import of the situation."

  "You have a completely different understanding of our supply situation and you didn't think to tell your senior officer?" Bulmor growled.

  "Well," Benedykt stuttered, "I wasn't really certain until--"

  "Please," Earl Joris said, "this man has brought up an important issue and all you can do is undercut him?" This time Katarina couldn't mistake the look from Benedykt to Earl Joris. "Clearly this matter should be looked into. Mismanaging the supply situation like this isn't just incompetence, it borders on criminal!"

  Katarina sat back and her eyes flicked from one council member to the next. She had no doubt that Earl Joris had set this up. The only question she had was how many of her "allies" were involved.

  "Yes," Baron Marcel of Upper Debber said. The nobleman who notionally controlled the villages of Upper Debber and Tucola Lake was a recent addition to the council. Katarina had grudgingly given him a place on the council only because she had no other choice about it. She knew she needed to get the nobility on her side and show that she would listen to them or else she knew they would either sit the fight out or flock to Hector's banner.

  The tall, thin man wore a grave expression, "With our cities and towns flooded with refugees, the slightest misjudgment may doom thousands to death by starvation. I suggest that we appoint someone to look into this matter."

  Katarina might have felt agreement for his words, if she hadn't so recently read Kara's reports that suggested that Baron Marcel had hoarded food away and now sold it to refugees and even his own people at massively inflated prices. Since he had initially sided with her in order to request lands seized by Covle Darkbit for failure to pay taxes, she didn’t expect him to be fully forthright with her.

  "My son, Lord James," Earl Joris said. "He can look into this, since it impacts his company, I'm certain he will provide it his undivided attention."

  Katarina's eyes narrowed and she didn't miss several of her council members nod in agreement, however reluctantly. Even Lord Theodore gave a slow nod. Katarina schooled her expression as she looked around. At this point, she knew it would be dangerous to reject the option. If word of a possible food shortage leaked out, it would lead to a panic. Since they already had problems aplenty with food hoarding, Katarina couldn't rule out some kind of riots or other violence breaking out. And Joris wouldn't hesitate to cause a panic if it gave him political leverage, she thought with venom.

  If she did give in, she would be certain that Lord James would look into things with a fine-toothed comb. Katarina doubted he would find anything. As far as she could tell, Solis was both methodical and honest. The former innkeeper also had plenty of motivation to do his job well, seeing as he had lost almost everything to Hector's mercenaries. Her one concern was that Lord James might

  "Actually, Lord Joris," Katarina said, "What about Lord Garrel?" She gestured at her betrothed -- Joris's younger son. "I'm sure that with his education and skills, he might very well be able to fix any problems he finds." The boring young man was also either the most talented liar she had met or else he had no interest at all in politics. Nothing beyond his books and studies, anyway.

  Earl Joris's studious, earnest expression twisted. Just for a moment she saw his honest expression: one of spiteful rage at how she had thwarted him. Katarina took that expression as proof that his son would find planted evidence by Benedykt to suggest some maleficence by Solis. Yet he gave her a smile as the others looked at him, "Yes, quite the excellent suggestion," Earl Joris said. She had still given him some token, in allowing his other son the position of trust, enough for him not to fight her on it.

  Her gaze went to Lord Garrel, "I'll have you get with Master Solis when he returns to the Keep, if that works."

  Benedykt spoke up, "My Lady, perhaps if he went over the books with me, first..."

  "No, no," Lord Garrel said, "I think I should go over Master Solis's handiwork first. That way I will have a more neutral perspective."

  She hid a smirk as Joris and Benedykt both glanced at each other. Joris's problem is that while he's clever, he's not half as intelligent as he thinks he is, she thought. Which still wouldn't prevent the man from being a thorn in her side. If she didn't need him, she wouldn't have dealt with him at all, though.

  She still didn't know how far his ambitions went. If he just sought to ensure she didn't have enough political clout to break the nobility's power, that was one thing. Yet from the stories she had heard of him, he had his sights set much higher.

  The day might soon come when Earl Joris would move against her in an effort to replace her. As she stared down the table, she hoped she put every bit of confidence into her gaze. I'm watching you, she thought, and if you move against me, it will be the last thing you do.

  ***

  Earl Joris of Olsztyn

  "Damn that spoiled little bitch!" Joris snapped as he kicked a wooden bench out of his way.

  He saw his armsmen flinch at the outburst, but to his son's credit, James simply stood waiting. A good man, he thought, a capable heir. Joris was glad that his eldest had turned out so well. Not that Garrel was a disappointment, exactly, but if things had been the other way around, Joris would have had to take certain measures to fix things.

  Assuming James didn't fix things himself, he thought. The amusing thought helped him to clear his head... and reminded him that his oldest son wouldn't be too upset if he managed to give himself a heart attack in a fit of rage.

  Not that James would dare to take that matter into his own hands, though. Joris had made particularly clear to him that he had enough by-blows that even his eldest son was replacable when it came down to it. Not that Joris wouldn't miss the boy, it was just that he didn't want his son to grow too ambitious.

  "The whole scheme of getting you in place to sabotage that peasant is out the window, now," Joris said. "Garrel is too honest, too given with numbers and details to go along with that scheme and too bright to fall for any false paperwork that fool Benedykt can forge."

  "There are plenty of other options, father," James said in a tone of exaggerated patience. Partially to test how angry he was, Joris realized, but also to see if he could goad him into telling more of his plans.

  Little chance of that, Joris thought. He didn't trust anyone with all of his plans, especially not his eldest. The boy might think he was indispensable if that became the case. Or worse, he might take some of it to Katarina, Joris thought.

  While most of his plots were no worse than others of his station, some were quite illegal. Some, in fact, would get him not only executed, but stripped of rank and hung like a common criminal. Joris, of course, didn't care about the legalities. The stakes in the game were ever so much sweeter when they involved a bit of risk, after all.

  "I know," Joris said. "But it irritates me to leave that peasant in charge of our supplies. Even with Benedykt looking things over and Garrel added to the mix. Things could go wrong too easily." Part of the reason he had liked this plan was that he liked Benedykt. The well-born former officer came from a good family. Minor nobility, yes, but properly respectful of rank. "And think what happens if they go right!" Joris shook his head. The last thing he wanted was a commoner in position to be successful. That gave the others ideas.

  Like those bastards in Orlen, he thought with a sneer. "There's no help for it," Joris said after a moment. "We'll abandon that plan." He sighed, "How have things gone with our companies?"

  "We've brought our cavalry companies back up to strength," James responded. "Our infantry is still at one company, but we've split off leadership to form the second. It was hard to find the r
ight men for the unit. I've been told that the remaining men are being trained up and they will arrive in the spring."

  Joris nodded in response. It wouldn't do to arm just any commoners. The men drawn from their ranks to serve as his enforcers and soldiers all came from senior families, ones who had served his family for generations. That was what made the loss of one of his companies at Covle's hands all the more painful.

  Covle, he thought, there's another painful mistake in and of itself. Joris gave his son a level look, "Any luck on finding someone for that special task I set you?"

  James shook his head, "No one competent enough to take the job."

  Joris grimaced in distaste. That was the problem with assasinations. Bandits and the like were far too unprofessional. They couldn't be trusted to do the job right. Murder was a thing of brute force and most often those who dealt in it were themselves brutes... too likely to be caught and then talk afterward. No… assassins were artists and their work had to be accomplished with delicacy.

  There were relatively few such artists and even fewer took their currency in money. Vendakar had entire cults dedicated to the art, but that brought other baggage into the mix. He could use his contacts with the Order of the New Moon, but like the Vendakar assassins, that would bring in other ties and bonds.

  "We might have to do this one ourselves, father," James said. Even with no one besides their armsmen present, he didn't go into detail.

  "I realize that!" Joris snapped. What he didn't need to say was that this had been one more test for James... a test he had consistently failed.

  Not that it was fair to blame the boy. Covle Darkbit had every advantage in the contest. He had more native skill and better training... and he carried the same noble blood, too.

  Joris kicked over another bench as he considered Covle. Damn the man, he thought. Everything about Covle was a carefully crafted considered insult. From the way he enjoyed the finest luxuries to his very name. A dark-bit was the currency that Joris paid his coal miners with, the silver bits stained black by the coal dust of the mines. The wines and merchants he favored were the ones that Joris had used to enjoy, before Hector's taxes grew too heavy.

  With the military training Covle received as one of Duke Peter's armsmen and the combat experience he had gained fighting in Taral and Asador as a mercenary, Covle had become a fearsome prospect. Word was that over the winter he had become a scourge... and everyone knew that he was the illegitimate son of one of the southern nobles, which made his service to Hector all the more galling.

  If Covle's mother wasn't such a wretched commoner, I would have claimed him as my own, Joris thought absently. To this day, he still remembered her beauty, with her coal-black hair and pale skin. She'd been the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, born to the lowest ranks of his coal miners.

  It really was a shame he'd had to have her thrown from his castle wall.

  Joris sometimes wondered if he should have handled the situation differently. Yet he had just married Lady Jordyn at that point and his new bride had been pregnant with James. Since Lady Jordyn brought an alliance with her father, the Baron of Matthew Cove, it had seemed like the simplest thing to do to silence the common-born wench. She'd had the gall to publicly state that Covle was his son after all.

  He could have taken the boy in after, he supposed, but it had been so much easier to do what other nobles did, ship the boy off to military service. He had figured the boy would feel grateful for the chance to be an armsman to the Duke, a vast increase in social status over a coal miner, after all.

  Besides, Joris had even paid the woman's family in extra dark-bits to keep their silence in the matter.

  But it seemed that Covle shared in Joris's ambitious nature. He had tried to blackmail Duke Peter into marriage with his daughter. Then, after that plot had failed miserably, he had backed Hector in the assassination of Duke Peter's family. And right before my own little plan came to fruition, too, he thought darkly.

  Covle's ambition might well be the key, Joris thought. A smile began to grow on his face. "Maybe, my son, we have approached this all wrong?"

  "Father?" James asked.

  "Covle has to know that Hector doesn't value him anymore," Joris said with a wave. "He'll probably be growing desperate, looking for a new patron... how do you think he might react to an offer from me?"

  James's eyes went wide, "Father, you can't mean..."

  "No, no," Joris said, "I wouldn't displace you as my heir." Not without due consideration, he thought to himself. "But the offer of acknowledgment, to give him what he has always craved..." It would have to be a good offer, he knew. Every man has his price, he thought, and surely recognition as a son of one of the oldest and most prestigious noble houses would be a central part of that price.

  If the timing worked, he might even get Covle to throw Hector's forces in disarray or similarly gift Joris the credit for victory.

  He could even marry Covle off to Katarina. Given Joris's long term plans, it would be a minor thing. It would probably mean he would need to dispose of Garrel, but that could be managed easily enough, and in such a way as to gain much sympathy for his house.

  Yes, he thought, perhaps it isn't such a bad thing that my prodigal son has survived so long.

  ***

  Kara

  Kara patted the sleeping baby and then smothered a yawn.

  At least one of us has a chance to sleep, she thought. Her son, it seemed, had near boundless energy. At just over six months old, he still didn't sleep the night through, most often because he woke himself up moving. Josef's brothers and their wives helped out, when they could, but with the height of the snow, it was rare of late that they could come to the Keep to help.

  What she wanted to do was to curl up herself and get some sleep, but she had work to do. Kara moved away from her bed and sat down at the desk, stacked high with reports. Those reports, she knew, were every bit as important as spears and soldiers. The information she gleaned from these reports and from interviewing refugees might well bring down the Usurper.

  And bringing down that evil bastard is what I want most in this world, she thought. She felt tears prick her eyes as she thought about Josef, the big, kind man who, when he held her in his arms, had made her feel so safe.

  Hector's men had taken him away. Just as they had destroyed her home and shattered her world. She looked over at her sleeping son, Josef's sleeping son. She would make certain that he never had to worry about Hector and that he grew up in a world worth living in.

  She didn't know how long she and Josef would have had together if he had lived. She knew, felt deep in her heart, that they would have married, started a family together. Yet Josef hadn't been Starborn, which meant their time together would have been all too short in the end.

  We would have savored it, she thought, just as I savor the time that I did have with him.

  She wiped away the tears and turned her attention to the parchment and papers. Many of them were weeks old at this point, brought by the last of Gerlin's scouts who returned before the deep snows closed most of the roads. While some messengers could still travel, few braved the storms and the more recent rumors of ravening beasts.

  She had just started reading through one such rumor when she heard a tap at the door. She hastily flipped her parchments face down, the better to keep her sources secret, and then stood and went to the door, drawing a dagger as she did so.

  "Yes?" Kara asked as she opened the door a crack. In theory, few knew she had become Katarina's spymaster, but that wasn't to say she shouldn't take precautions.

  It was her father, though, "Hello, Kara," Solis said, even as he brushed snow off his shoulders. He looked around, "May we come in?"

  Kara looked past him and saw a hooded figure, still snow-covered from the trek to the keep. She hesitated, yet she nodded at her father, trusting his judgement. She kept the dagger tucked behind her, though, as she opened the door.

  Her father came in, but the man in the corr
idor hesitated. He drew back his hood and Kara's lips pursed as she recognized his face. "Him?" She looked at her father in betrayal.

  "Please, Kara, hear him out," Solis said.

  "I am sorry," Lord Lukas said. "I do not wish to cause you distress."

  Kara glared at him. "You should leave, then."

  "Please," Lord Lukas said, "Just answer some of my questions?" His earnest expression didn't fool her, though. Josef had told her all about why he'd had to run away from his home. He had broken Lord Lukas’s collarbone when he tried to stop a brawl the young nobleman had started. Poor Josef had fled, then, to avoid bringing punishment to his family from the Baron of Redcoast's youngest son.

  Kara looked away, "Fine, if you'll leave, I'll answer your questions." What she wanted to do was plant her dagger in his ribs, but that kind of thing would jeopardize her son's future.

  "I've been told that you were..." Lord Lukas hesitated and looked at Solis, "...close to Josef."

  Kara's lips went flat, "Yes." She let out a breath and felt tears prick her eyes. "I loved him."

  "I see," Lord Lukas said and he seemed to deflate a bit. He looked over and saw young Josef sleeping on the bed. "Your son, is he..."

  "He is Josef's son," Kara snapped.

  Lord Lukas nodded. "That's what I had heard. I just... I had to be certain."

  "Why, so you can persecute us?"

  "What?" Lord Lukas shook his head, "No! Not at all!" The young nobleman looked at the ground. “I was young and spoiled. I'd just lost my mother... I turned to drinking and picking fights, because I knew that no one would dare to hurt me.” The young nobleman looked down at his feet. “Josef broke my collarbone right after I'd drawn my dagger on one of Hector's mercenaries. If he hadn't stopped the fight then, I'd be dead now. Either that mercenary would have killed me or I would have killed one of Hector's men and the usurper would have had me killed in return.”

  “So, what does this have to do with me?” Kara snapped. She had little time for the nobleman. His trials and tribulations meant nothing to her. He didn't know what she'd been through... and even now he didn't really understand what he had done to Josef.