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

by Duncan Lay

  Of course, that was the very quality that repelled and scared Nola and their daughters. Bridgit wanted to see her friends happy but, as a member of the Ruling Council, she could see that Brendan could be the difference between getting through this winter and watching Gaelland dissolve into chaos.

  Then there was Gallagher, who was offended by what had been said, as well as Riona and Devlin, who had not been talking to anyone for the last few days, except when they had to. And there was Fallon, who was becoming more and more inclined to do what he wanted, without talking to anyone else. That had worked fine back in Baltimore, when all he had to do was keep order in the village. Here was a different matter. She saw so many ways in which she would do things differently—and better—but there was the new baby to think of, not to mention Kerrin. And she did not know what a confrontation would do to Fallon. He had always listened to her but this was far bigger and so different to anything they had done before. Their relationship had defined both of their lives in many ways and she did not want to change that. She would rather see Gaelland fall. Or at least that was what she told herself. With everything on the line, she was beginning to wonder …

  “They have to be there. We shall summon them and make excuses if we have to,” she said.

  *

  Fallon was delighted to see Brendan walk in, although his smile faded when Nola was not with him.

  “Is she coming down? Spending too much time to get ready?” he asked, trying to put a cheerful face on things.

  “I don’t know. She’s not talking to me now,” the smith said flatly.

  Fallon thought of asking more but the smith’s face discouraged further conversation.

  Riona and Devlin were the next to arrive, but they sat away from everyone, pointedly ignoring them.

  “We can expect to get some angry people from yesterday,” he said to them, by way of greeting.

  “Don’t worry. We know it’s not a laughing matter,” Riona told him.

  He sighed and turned to see Gallagher arrive.

  “Did you and Rosaleen get anything from those men we captured yesterday? Any of them working for Munro?” he asked eagerly.

  “We could find nothing,” Gallagher said.

  “Well, we might find some today. Is she ready to check out anyone suspicious?”

  Gallagher shook his head. “You have made it quite clear that the Ruling Council has nothing to do with Aroaril. She will stay clear, as will I.”

  “What? But we need her help!” Fallon growled.

  “But you only want it on your terms,” Gallagher said. “The church is not at your beck and call. Just as Aroaril does not make rulings on civil matters, the Council cannot order the church around. If you want the Archbishop’s help, then you must go through the proper channels.”

  “Oh for Aroaril’s sake!” Fallon snarled, then held up his hands. “Right. What do you want? Something in writing?”

  “That would be best,” Gallagher said stiffly.

  Fallon slowly unclenched his fist. “You know, we are all on the same side,” he grumbled.

  “Perhaps you should have thought of that before ordering me off the Council,” Gallagher suggested.

  Fallon glared at his friend. “What has happened to you? This is not the way the old Gallagher would talk to me.”

  “The old Gallagher had not seen the truth,” Gallagher responded. “I have seen the light and it guides my life now. If you let it guide yours, then you too will find peace.”

  “I could use a bit of bloody peace now,” Fallon muttered, as he hunted out some parchment and hurriedly scrawled a request for the Archbishop to attend Petition Day. “Now, will you please hurry?”

  “It does not matter how fast I go. It is all happening according to Aroaril’s plan,” Gallagher said placidly, strolling out the door.

  Fallon restrained himself from hurling the ink pot at him only with great difficulty. His fingers were around it when Bridgit walked in.

  “Any sign of Nola?” he asked hopefully.

  “She is in no state to make decisions,” Bridgit said. “It will just be us five.”

  “Oh good,” Fallon said. “I cannot wait.”

  *

  As they had suspected, the line for Petition Day was nowhere near as calm and orderly as the previous one, which had been such a success. Instead, angry men, upset women and confused children filled the square.

  Even the icy wind that rattled around the square failed to cool things down.

  “Keep your temper, just listen and promise to consider their case, whatever it is, and then inform them of our decision by next Petition Day,” Bridgit murmured in his ear. “Yes, the city is behind us, but not if we act like Aidan.”

  But Fallon found it hard to keep quiet as people declared that their children or elderly parents were starving on these rations and demanded to join the feasts in the castle, where the Ruling Council stuffed themselves. Or that the Kottermani prisoners were growing fat while the Gaelish went hungry, or that the other towns were stuffing their faces while Berry’s children went hungry.

  Bridgit’s firm denials saw people leave calmer, although not happy. Fallon would have preferred to whip the ungrateful bastards out of there. What was going on in this city?

  *

  Munro watched proceedings from the back of the crowd, his face disguised with a filthy eyepatch, his clothes tattered and grimy. It was a gamble coming here and he expected no mercy if he was seen. But it was worth it. He liked seeing the Ruling Council look diminished and divided. Keverne had failed to kill Fallon or Bridgit and that was a shame but they were fracturing anyway. He especially enjoyed hearing so many of his rumors coming back as truth. His words had taken on a life of their own now. It was also interesting to note how many desperate and hungry people there were in the city. Many of the rich hated Fallon but would not risk their necks to defy him. But while the poor people liked Fallon, they would do anything for silver and food. And, luckily, he had both.

  CHAPTER 44

  Dina looked idly at Durzu and Swane as they talked together. The two Princes were united in their inadequacy. Each believed they were the best man to rule and that was perfect for her. Their egos just needed flattering and they could be brought under control again. It was tiring but at least they could be relied on not to do something stupid like waffling on about honor. Self-interest was their main motivation and that was easier to work with.

  “We are ready to see my father and for me to take the mantle as Emperor,” Durzu announced.

  Dina sighed. Time to go back to work. “We cannot do that yet,” she said patiently. “If the Emperor were to die with his succession still unclear, any number of nobles could step forward.”

  “But I am the next eldest, so my claim is clear!”

  “Yet many were there when your father the Emperor declared he had to be careful with his choice. They will want to advance their own position, so could push for one of your brothers to take the throne. At best, they could tie things up for moons,” Dina said. “At worst, we could see your armies marching against each other, rather than helping us get back Gaelland from that scum Fallon.”

  “How do you know this? You have only been in my country for a short time,” Durzu asked suspiciously.

  Dina shrugged. “I know men and I know nobles.”

  Durzu grudgingly nodded. “So what do we do? How do I become Emperor?”

  “We have to get your father out of the country and away from ambitious men. Get him to sail for Gaelland as soon as possible, with all four of his sons. Tell him that you should all be given a chance to prove yourselves as the new province is brought into the Empire. The one who performs the best should become the next Emperor. Of course, once we have landed in Gaelland, he can meet with an unfortunate accident. As eldest brother, you will have to take over. Then, when Gaelland is yours, you can return in triumph. What can the nobles say then? The Emperor fell in battle, as did three of his sons, but one remains who led you to glorious victory
and is ready to take up the task of the Empire. What can they say then?’

  She looked at the pair of them and smiled at the expressions on their faces. Let them do the work and she would enjoy the fruits of their labors. The only decision she had to make was when to get rid of Durzu so Swane could sit on the Emperor’s throne. Or she could keep Durzu around, although Swane was the better bet. She was deep inside his head now. She could breathe on his neck, or caress his thigh, and he was her slave. It would take moons of effort to have Durzu in that state, if at all. After all, he did not have the rich history that Swane enjoyed, with lustful feelings towards his mother and his earliest thoughts of sex associated with an older woman. No, Swane it was. They would keep Durzu around for a little longer though—the Kottermanis would not accept Swane as their ruler just yet. A summer or two and the old nobles would be weeded out, replaced by the right sort of men and then it would be time for another change. Of course, if it all went wrong, she was only behind the throne, not on it. Besides, who could resist her?

  *

  Kemal woke slowly, feeling as though every part of him had been beaten. He looked up at the stone ceiling and wondered where he was. It was dark in here, so it was almost as if he was locked down below again, while Swane and Dina performed their perverted rites. But there could be no stone on board a ship. He rolled over and blinked, seeing he was in a comfortable bedroom. His heart leapt—he had to be home! But how was that possible? His last memory had been on the ship, getting ready to warn Adana about these evil Gaelish.

  He rolled over and winced as pain stabbed through his side. He pulled up his tunic to find a bandage around his lower chest. He pulled it down carefully to reveal a healing wound just below his ribs. How had that happened? He sat up and walked carefully over to the door, feeling light-headed. Had he tried to escape and been struck by the Gaelish? He tugged on the door handle and walked out, almost into the arms of a pair of guards sitting right outside his door.

  “High One!” they leapt to their feet.

  “Where am I? What has happened?” Kemal demanded. ‘Where are the Gaelish?”

  He was annoyed to see the men look at each other, rather than jump to obey. Then one of them nodded and raced off.

  “Where is he going? What is happening?” Kemal demanded.

  “High One, you need to rest. You have been sleeping for a long time,” the guard said. “Please, return to your bed and we shall get physicians for you.”

  Kemal rubbed his face. “I have rested long enough. Now I need some answers. Either talk to me or step aside and I shall find out what is happening and then have you dealt with.”

  “High One, I cannot let you leave,” the guard said stolidly.

  “What?” Kemal shouted, then winced because it echoed around his skull. “On whose orders?” he demanded, in a quieter voice.

  “The Emperor’s,” the guard said, his voice betraying his fear.

  Kemal felt himself come fully awake. “What is going on?” he hissed.

  “I cannot say, High One. But others will come.”

  Kemal focused on the man’s face. “So you will not help me but will stand in the way of your Crown Prince? By Aroaril, I will see you staked out in the sun for this!”

  The guard’s face paled but he did not move. “I am sorry, High One. But you are no longer Crown Prince. By order of the Emperor.”

  Kemal staggered backwards and would have fallen if the guard had not jumped forwards and caught him.

  “Get my father. Get him and I swear you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams,” he hissed into the guard’s ear.

  “I cannot leave my post, High One.”

  “Lock me in. I will not step away from the bed. But, as Aroaril is my witness, if you do not get my father, then the Empire is lost and it will all be on your head.”

  *

  “Make way for the Emperor!”

  Kemal stopped pacing and sighed in relief. The past turn of the hourglass had been excruciating and he had been tempted to break his word and go looking for his father. But he was in no condition to fight his way to his father’s side.

  The door swung open and his father, the Emperor of Kotterman, strode in the room.

  “Father, I cannot say how pleased I am to see you!” Kemal exclaimed. “There has been the most terrible mistake—”

  “Indeed there has,” the Emperor snapped. “I put my trust in you and it was betrayed! Gaelland is in revolt, your army is destroyed or captured, you helped slaves escape and you allowed yourself to be used as a pawn by our enemies!”

  “What? Where did you hear those lies—”

  “Silence! You told me and Durzu and the rest of the nobles! I heard it all from your own mouth!”

  Kemal felt his heart leap out of his chest. “Father, this was a trick. The Gaelish who came here with me, they are evil, they worship Zorva and they have dark magic. They must have used it on me—”

  “Enough!” his father thundered. “The Hierarch himself has decreed them harmless. They are here to help. They want their country back and I want my new province.”

  “No, this is wrong! Father, they have lied to you. You must believe me—”

  His father stepped forwards and slapped him across the face. It was not a powerful blow but it stung.

  “Foolish boy. You had your chance and failed. Now you will accompany me to Gaelland with your brothers and we shall retake the province for the Empire. I shall decide which of your brothers shall be Crown Price once we have Gaelland firmly in our hands. With the traitor Fallon dead, we can safely hand over to King Swane.”

  “Swane is evil! I watched him sacrifice a screaming child!”

  But he might as well have been talking to the wall.

  “You will die there and all scandal will be forgotten,” his father went on remorselessly. “And the throne will pass to a more worthy son.”

  “Durzu!” Kemal spat. “Is he behind this? Is he a friend of these Gaelish?”

  “Try to die like a prince, even if you could not live like one,” his father said. “Do not call for me again. You shall be kept below when we sail and your guards shall be told you are to be treated like a common slave.”

  Kemal stared at his father in mingled shock and horror. “Father, will you not listen to me? I don’t care what happens to me but the Gaelish must be stopped! Swane has the blood of children on his hands!”

  He looked at his father but the Emperor’s eyes seemed curiously blank. Normally they were full of light and life but it was almost as if he were asleep. And his voice, it was all wrong. It was almost as if the Emperor were a puppet …

  “Father, they have got to you! Tell me they did not come to speak to you alone—”

  The Emperor turned away and he felt his heart drop out of his chest.

  “At least tell me my family is safe!” he cried desperately.

  “They will stay here. Durzu has promised to care for them,” his father said dully. “Do not call for me again. I shall not listen.”

  He turned and walked away but Kemal would not, could not, leave it there.

  “You are under a spell!” he cried, racing over. Perhaps if he struck his father, or dragged him into church—

  But the Emperor’s guards were too fast. Four small, lithe men blocked the way. Kemal recognized them instantly. Trained from birth, they were deadly with hands or weapons and obeyed orders without question. He had given the three he possessed to King Aidan and lost them. He could not hope to defeat one, let alone four, but he flung himself at them anyway.

  “Father, listen to me—” he cried desperately but it was not use. The Emperor kept walking and the guards moved in. A blow to the stomach and another to his healing side sent him tumbling to the floor and they backed out warily.

  He forced himself to his knees in time to see the door slam shut and he heard the bolts being rammed home.

  Tears came then, for his wife, his sons, his father and his country. How could he hope to save any of them?
<
br />   CHAPTER 45

  Fallon watched with rising frustration as his new army stumbled through their paces in the snow. Without Kemal, it would come down to hurting the Kottermanis so badly that they would leave Gaelland alone. Despite repeated calls for volunteers, not enough men had come forward. So he had been forced to offer extra food for all those who served. Thousands had responded and he had ordered his men at a score of towns around Gaelland to make the same offer. If they could all train over the winter, by the time the Kottermanis got here, there would be enough men to take them on—led, of course, by his core of trained men.

  That was the hope but the reality looked different. Their shield wall left gaps in a dozen places and their hedgehog defense of spears looked about as threatening as a slug—and moved at a similar speed. He had known their progress was slow but this was ridiculous. The Kottermanis would cut them to pieces and he could not even trust them to stand behind his experienced men.

  The black-bearded Bran and the baby-faced Casey marched over to him, both looking grim.

  “Do you want to tell me what in Aroaril’s name is going on?” he hissed at them.

  “It’s partly the cold but mainly the quality of the men,” Bran said with a shrug. “We’ve previously had men who wanted to fight for their homes and families. Now we have a bunch of men who are doing this because their families will get an extra ration of food.”

  “Then we have to weed them out! Throw the useless ones away and concentrate on the good ones!”

  “We’re trying, sir, but it’s hard to know where to stop. We only have a few good ones,” Bran warned.

  Fallon swore furiously. “Right. I’ll fire them up and then you will be free to get rid of any who don’t make an effort this afternoon,” he said. “Padraig, it’s time for you to help me.”