The Poisoned Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 3 (Complete Edition)

by Duncan Lay

  She put such thoughts aside as all made way for Durzu’s guards. Even the most desperate petitioner knew Durzu’s symbol and his reputation for ruthlessness.

  The huge church doors were open, although guarded. Again, they were waved through without Durzu’s men breaking step. Feray would have expected the same thing to happen for Kemal, except there would be less fear on everyone’s faces as they bowed.

  Once inside the church she had to keep back a gasp of surprise. She had been here many times, for there was no finer place for the Crown Prince to worship. But the inside had changed completely. Where worshippers had once sat on long benches, now desks filled the open space in all directions.

  Durzu led them through the middle, scattering clerks and courtiers like frightened pigeons until finally they reached a barrier even he could not cross with impunity.

  The Emperor had been installed on a large golden throne where the altar to Aroaril had once stood. Even in her agitated state, Feray found time to wonder if that was a sign of some kind.

  The commander of the Emperor’s guard blocked their way and stared at Durzu with none of the fear everyone else had showed. Like the rest of the guards, he was not a large man, but they were all trained from birth in fighting and none dared cross them. His cold black eyes swept over the party. Like all of his kind, he had had his tongue torn out, so he could never speak of anything he saw inside the Emperor’s chambers. But beside him was one of the Emperor’s many officials.

  “Princess Feray, Princes Asil, Orhan and Durzu. The Emperor Yonetici welcomes you but you know the protocol. You are required to leave all weapons and guards here.”

  Durzu snapped his fingers and his guards peeled away, leaving just the four of them. He unbuckled his belt and handed it, with its attached dagger, into thin air. A servant raced forwards and caught it before it hit the ground.

  The guard stepped aside.

  Feray smiled down at her sons then lifted her chin and walked up the few steps towards the throne. The Emperor was speaking with a gaggle of officials but waved them away. He turned his attention on them and Feray sank to her knees, snapping her fingers for Asil and Orhan to join her. At her side, Durzu bowed deeply before dropping to one knee.

  “Rise,” Emperor Yonetici said loudly.

  She looked at her sons’ grandfather and husband’s father and saw a little of both of them in there. But where Kemal was thin, Yonetici was fat, his features hidden behind pouchy layers of good food and wine, the sharp lines of his face blurred by high living and the passage of time. It was in the eyes that she saw the greatest difference. This man held the lives of uncounted thousands in his hands. He but had to raise his voice and not just families but whole towns would die and that knowledge shone out of his face.

  “Exalted One. We have returned to you with news from Gaelland,” she said respectfully.

  “Where is my son, the Crown Prince?” the Emperor demanded. “Why does he not come here to report to me in person?”

  Feray took a deep breath. Time to start lying and hope she could get away with it. Luckily she had been given plenty of time to come up with a good story. Some of it was even true.

  “Exalted One, my husband, your son Prince Kemal, has been forced to stay in Gaelland to keep control of the new province. The King of Gaelland has turned to worshipping the Dark God in an attempt to defeat you. He is dead, as is his son and many of his supporters, but it took fierce fighting to stop them. They had even brought in a Fearpriest from a strange country far, far across the seas to make their evil plan succeed.”

  She paused for the gasps of horror to stop. The courtiers, who were not supposed to be listening but of course were all agog, had been unable to restrain themselves.

  “They intended to sacrifice us all to Zorva and then use that power to take over the entire Empire. King Aidan wanted to rule the world in the Dark God’s name and have every one of us bowing down to him while the sacrificial altars ran red with blood and the hearts of our children were burned in fiery pits.”

  This time there were actual cries of horror and indignation from among the courtiers. The Emperor did not say anything but he leaned forwards a little on his padded throne and she took that to be a good sign.

  “But this plot was destroyed and King Aidan killed, while his Fearpriest was also destroyed and the nest of worshippers executed.” She did not mention that it was Fallon who had done that, instead hoping the courtiers would leap to the wrong conclusion.

  “Aroaril praise Prince Kemal!” someone shouted and then the rest of them took up the cry.

  She used that time to bow her head, as if in respect, although it was more in relief.

  “Prince Kemal controls about half of the country now, ruling those Gaelish who are as horrified by their King’s evil as we are. But one of the King’s sons escaped and is trying to build up his forces. With the danger ever-present, my husband sent us back to bring back more men in the spring, so we can stamp out these Zorva-worshippers and make Gaelland secure for you to inspect, Exalted One,” she said, finishing with a flourish and touching her forehead to the ground.

  Immediately there was applause from the courtiers and she straightened up, feeling much more confident.

  The Emperor, however, seemed unmoved.

  “A fascinating tale,” he said flatly. “However, it does not explain why we heard reports of a slave revolt and mass escape from Adana, as well as answer why my son let his family risk the storms of the northern seas to return here, when he knew I would be arriving in Gaelland with an army in the spring anyway.”

  Feray bowed her head briefly, before holding it high and speaking clearly, her voice calm and steady. Any hint of nerves now would be fatal but, after what she had gone through in that storm, even facing the wrath of the Emperor seemed like nothing.

  “The first was a ruse. Prince Kemal had discovered King Aidan’s plot and knew that he was being watched by magical means. By helping the Gaelish slaves to escape, which was one of Aidan’s demands, he was able to return to Gaelland with an army and surprise the capital of Berry,” she said strongly. “As for myself and our sons, he knew the Zorva-worshippers saw us as the key to unlocking enough power to take over the Empire. He could have sent anyone to warn you but we were chosen to both protect us and to persuade you that the danger was very real and Gaelland is not yet safe for you to claim. It will be, for Prince Kemal will make it so, but he feared you landing in the wrong part of Gaelland and falling into the hands of the Zorva-worshippers.”

  “So the slave escape was a ruse?” the Emperor asked again, seemingly ignoring the rest of her story.

  “Of course, Exalted One. Why else would he order ships to sail away and guards to leave their posts?”

  “And the men who died?”

  “A necessary sacrifice to prevent a greater evil.”

  The Emperor rested his chin on his hand, the extra flesh spilling over his chunky fingers. He fixed her with a stare and said nothing.

  She made sure her back was straight and met his gaze evenly. He would not find any chinks in her armor.

  “It sounds suspicious, Father,” Durzu said, breaking the silence. “We know that Kemal crossed the seas himself, why did he not send a warning then?”

  Feray saw the danger instantly. She had built a beautiful house of half-truths and lies and while it had been crafted with care, it would not take much to bring it down. She rounded on Durzu.

  “He was being watched, as I told you. And because I and our sons had been captured by the Gaelish,” she said defiantly.

  “Oh, so he put his own family before the Empire?” Durzu said, pouncing on the bait she dragged in front of him.

  “He risked his life for the Empire and fought in the front line to bring down King Aidan,” she fired back, secretly delighted that this was now the focus of the argument. “He risks his life now, holding a new province with just a small army, while we risked our lives to deliver the warning.”

  She looked around the
circle of courtiers, every one of them a powerful man who controlled lands, trade routes and money flows. They believed her but they were hesitating, for none wanted to risk crossing Durzu unless it was with the Emperor’s support.

  Then they all fell to their knees as the Emperor rose with a grunt and stalked down towards her.

  She lowered her head a heartbeat before Durzu and sensed the Emperor stop just in front of her. He reached down a hand and helped her to her feet, looking in her eyes.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Did the Gaelish really have you?”

  She met his stare easily. “I was tied to a bloodstained altar to the foul God Zorva and a Fearpriest stood over me with a knife, ready to kill me and my sons,” she replied.

  The Emperor inclined his head slightly. “What metal was the knife made of?” he asked.

  She paused for a moment, taken back to that smoky chamber when she had been sure she would die, until Fallon had gone mad and freed them all.

  “It was not metal,” she said, remembering with a shudder. “It was a strange black rock, sharp enough to cut our ropes with one blow.”

  Yonetici’s hand came up and landed on her shoulder. For a moment she was terrified she had made a mistake and the guards were going to drag them out of there, then he smiled slightly. It was probably meant to be sympathetic but it looked like a crocodile showing its teeth.

  “Princess Feray has seen a Fearpriest and lived to tell the tale,” he rumbled. “She is a worthy wife for my son, the Crown Prince. This is disturbing news and we must decide whether we should purge Gaelland with fire, to make sure the taint of evil is completely gone.”

  “Exalted One, not all the Gaelish are evil. Many hated their King and cheered his death. They would welcome you,” she said, knowing she was pushing her luck but also determined to make the most of this.

  The Emperor returned to the throne before speaking. “Then what do you suggest?” he asked.

  “Exalted One, I merely follow the orders of my husband,” she said, bowing her head a little to help hide that lie. “Send a score of ships filled with our best soldiers and within two moons you will have the province you always dreamed of, happy to be part of the Empire and ready to honor you.”

  “And you would lead this force?” Durzu asked, a sneer hovering beneath his words.

  “Prince Kemal would lead them but, if you are concerned, you could take the reinforcements across the seas, before putting yourself under your brother’s command,” she invited.

  Durzu’s confidence cracked a little. “That would not be necessary,” he said hastily.

  No, it would not, because if you were ever at Kemal’s mercy, he could get rid of you and your scheming, blame it on the Zorva-worshippers, and nobody would ever know the truth.

  The Emperor snapped his fingers and a pair of scribes emerged from behind his throne, scrolls of papyrus at the ready.

  “Prepare fifty ships and fill them with our best men. When we are dealing with Zorva-worship, we shall not take any chances. With the men Kemal has already, that should be more than enough. I shall follow myself, two moons after you, with another fifty ships, if I have not heard from you,” he instructed.

  Feray pressed her forehead onto the step in a gesture of respect that was also one of massive relief.

  “All praise the Emperor Yonetici! His wisdom has saved us all!” she cried.

  Not to let a chance like that go past, the courtiers echoed her words. She looked up to see the Emperor nod to dismiss her and, as she turned, she saw Durzu’s bitter disappointment and anger and hid her smile. She had achieved everything she wanted and more. Once the storms were gone, Kemal was as good as rescued. They could then have the country on its knees, ready for the Emperor’s arrival. It could not have worked better.

  CHAPTER 28

  The light thrown off the fire was almost impossible to read by but it did not really matter, because they could not understand the words anyway.

  “What do you remember Brother Nahuatl saying? Did he have a catechism, like the priests and priestesses of Aroaril do?” Dina asked as they turned pages with half-frozen fingers.

  “He usually spoke in his own language,” Swane said sulkily.

  “Relax,” she soothed. “Think. Let your mind go back. Was there anything he said about Zorva?”

  Swane closed his eyes but she could see the frustration on his face, even in the dim firelight. “I can’t remember!”

  She restrained her frustration. How did men truly think they were the rulers of Gaelland when they possessed such little intelligence? She produced the box that Munro had also stolen. With numb fingers she opened it, revealing the blackened, shriveled heart. Luckily her nose was so cold she could not smell the tang of decay.

  “My brother’s heart,” Swane said, his voice betraying the first excitement she had heard since producing these dark items.

  “Hold it,” she urged.

  With trembling fingers, he scooped it out of the box.

  “What would Nahuatl do with it?” she urged. “Close your eyes and pretend to be him.”

  Swane did as he was bid, raising it above his head. “I dedicate this heart and soul to you, O Zorva,” he intoned, then jerked his eyes open excitedly. “That’s it!”

  “Keep going,” she urged. They had been sharing a bed for almost a moon now but, despite all they had done, this seemed strangely far more intimate.

  Swane closed his eyes again. “Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, the source of all power,” he said, then cast it into the fire. The shrivelled heart burst into flames instantly, something that should have been impossible. She felt a blast of heat that, again, made no earthly sense.

  Swane’s smile changed from relief to something darker and he shivered a little, something she could see had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Give me the book,” he said eagerly.

  She opened it for him and he hissed in anger, a noise that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

  “I still don’t know what to do! I sacrificed many serving girls in Meinster but I could not unlock the power,” he groaned. “It is so close and yet so far away!”

  “Think again,” she urged. “Did Nahuatl use gestures? Did he have a special knife?”

  Swane stared at her and then laughed. “That’s it! I have been using a metal knife and Zorva hates that!”

  Dina jumped to her feet. “Kane! Make your King a wooden spike.”

  “Wood?” Swane asked disdainfully.

  “For now,” she said. “Until you have the power.”

  He nodded. His eyes shone with a strange light. “Yes, Zorva will listen to me and the more blood I give him, the more power I will get. I shall make a knife of pure bone that can carve open men’s hearts. Get the Kottermani Prince. We shall sacrifice him now and then I can get us out of this storm, then take us back and destroy Fallon!”

  Dina liked the idea of getting out of the storm but rather less the thought of taking on Fallon again. Not with a handful of men and against a horde of priests of Aroaril. She reminded herself that as Swane’s consort her word was unquestioned but as a mere Duchess she could not command the nobles waiting back in Meinster’s castle. She just had to step carefully and use her skills to guide Swane down the right path.

  *

  Kemal had never known cold like this. He floated in and out of consciousness, wondering if he could ever be warm again. The snow was no longer falling on them and they were out of the worst of the wind but he was too far away from the fire to get much heat.

  There was something going on over by the wagon but he was too hungry, tired and cold to take notice. Until a quartet of guards dragged him from the back of a pile of unconscious wizards and into the firelight. For a moment he luxuriated in the warmth, and then they pinned him down on his back in the snow, using a knife to tear open the sacking he was wearing, as well as the filthy tunic he had underneath. He struggled but the cold and lack of food had sapped his energy and the four men held
him down easily.

  “What are you doing, Swane?” he snarled.

  The young Prince stood over him, a book clutched in one hand, a sharpened chunk of wood in the other, the Duchess Dina at his shoulder. Kemal did not show it but he did not like the expression on their faces.

  “Rejoice, Prince of Kotterman. You shall be the instrument of Fallon’s destruction, as you wished. Your heart and soul will go to Zorva and I shall use that power to grind Fallon into dust.”

  Kemal felt a tremor of fear at the thought but, after what Fallon had done to him, he was not going to back down in front of this bastard.

  “Kill me and you kill yourself,” he shouted. “Sacrifice me to Zorva and my father will not rest until you and every trace of Gaelland is gone. You think you have seen a large army? He can send two hundred ships, every one packed with veteran soldiers, and then three moons later have another two hundred ready. They will turn Gaelland into a wasteland.”

  “I shall defeat them,” Swane boasted.

  Kemal forced a scornful laugh. “You won’t be able to sacrifice people fast enough. They will drown Gaelland in fire and eventually there will be only you left, and then they will burn you. You will unite the entire Empire against you. Every country that wants to leave the Empire and fears my father will clamor to be part of an army that stamps out the worship of Zorva by a Fearpriest-King. You will have woken a sleeping giant and it will grind your filthy dreams into dust.”

  “You don’t know the power of Zorva,” Swane fired back, but Kemal could see the beginnings of doubt in his eyes.

  “I won’t see it but I shall know about it, when your soul arrives for Zorva to torment for all time because you failed him,” Kemal taunted. “The Empire is bigger than you could ever imagine and I am the key to it. By killing me, you seal your own doom.”

  “I have Zorva with me. And the Great God will not let me fail.”

  “Like he saved your Fearpriest, when Fallon gutted him and left him to die?” Kemal sneered.