by Rob Donovan
Vashna took a step back as if propelled by the ferocity of the Queen's words. So far, she had not shown him any animosity. As naive as it might have been, he had never entertained the idea of the Prince rejecting his offer. Why would Althalos turn down the chance to get his mother back? Because Norva failed to convince him, because Norva betrayed you? Vashna pushed the thoughts to one side. It was inconceivable that events would pan out like that. The worst he thought might happen was the Prince would get his mother back and then double cross Vashna, but even then, he thought the chances of the Prince doing that were slim. The Prince needed all the men he could muster. Vashna's men were amongst the elite. Why would he reject such assistance?
"Do you really believe I would do that?" Vashna asked. The idea appalled him.
Mirinda glared at him and then suddenly the fight seemed to go out of her; her shoulders sagged and her chest deflated as if all the bluster she had summoned had left her. The strong defiant Queen now resembled the ragged woman who had resided in his dungeon. "No, you are capable of many things but you were never an evil man."
"Thank you," Vashna said. It was all he could think of to say. "I think we have all lost our way these past few years."
"I didn't, I had my way snatched away from me."
Vashna winced, it had been a stupid thing to say. There was little point in antagonising the Queen when she had already backed down. He moved quickly to quell the situation and raised his hands apologetically. "Excuse me my Lady. I meant I have lost my way in the past few years."
Mirinda acknowledged the apology with a tight smile.
"Me too," Stasiak said with a growl. Vashna fought the urge to laugh. It was the first time he had heard the warrior utter anything close to resembling his feelings and it sounded ridiculous. The Warlord of Yurisdoria controlled himself however and nodded to Stasiak.
"Well this is all very touching, isn't it?"
Vashna whirled around to see Norva standing behind him. Seconds later two of his guards burst through the tent flaps and levelled their spears at her. Norva glanced at them, rolled her eyes and turned away. Vashna ushered them out of the tent making it clear he was unimpressed with their lack of diligence. In truth though, he hardly blamed them. The Ghost Assassin had earned her moniker for a reason and neither he nor Stasiak had sensed her presence in the tent.
"Well? Did you speak to the Prince?" Vashna asked.
"How is he? Is my son well?" Mirinda asked. Again, Stasiak bristled at the mention of Althalos. Managing Stasiak and Althalos was going to be very difficult. He wondered how Mirinda was going to tackle that situation or if she was even aware of it.
"The Prince is very well my Lady. He is eager to see you," Norva said. Vashna noticed the Ghost Assassin had ignored his question. Norva moved across to a fruit bowl and began plucking at a bunch of grapes. She was an odd-looking woman. Her diminutive size seemed to enhance her character and make her more attractive than she was. Her nose was flat and her eyes too close together but something about the way she conducted herself; her confidence, made her alluring. He could never imagine laying with her, but at the same time he felt a tremendous amount of admiration for her.
"So, he believed you?" the Queen asked. She beamed at the idea. It was the first time she had really smiled since Vashna had captured her.
"He did and he has agreed to meet with you."
Mirinda clapped her hands together and let out a small whoop of joy. There were tears in her eyes. Vashna could not help but be touched at her reaction although he could not fathom why the Queen had thought the Prince would not want to meet her.
"What about me?" Vashna said. "The Queen is not going anywhere without me." Stasiak placed his hand on his sword ready to defy Vashna. "Oh, stop being so bloody dramatic all the time. You know why I can't let that happen." Stasiak's hand did not move.
"The Prince has said he will meet with you, your wife, your General and captains but that is all. No one else is allowed to enter Lilyon and you will enter the White City in secret."
"Why?" Vashna asked.
"Why what?" Norva asked popping a grape into her mouth, some of the juice bursting from her lips as she bit into it.
"Why the secrecy?"
"He does not want the people to know of any potential alliance until he is satisfied of your intentions. You are a hated man in these parts Vashna and in my opinion rightly so."
Vashna could not argue with that although the idea of entering the capital with so little protection did not sit well with him. Especially as he would be taking Breshanel. He trusted the Prince but the other Warlord's would not be so accepting. There was nothing to stop him being executed there and then. In one swoop they could destroy the head of his army.
“The Prince must know I would be sceptical of entering his palace so unprotected?”
“He knows,” Norva said.
“And?”
“He figures that since you stole his mother for the majority of his life that you might owe him.”
Vashna kicked a chair and sent it toppling over. The two guards burst into the tent with their spears poised. “Get out you fools,” he said without sparing them a glance. “Does he know what happened to me at Shangon? Did you tell him the last time I entered a Warlord’s castle I was almost murdered?”
Norva watched the guards skulk out of the tent like whipped dogs. “I told him, he said he was not a Warlord and you should appreciate that. He also said that if you really thought he was worth following, then you would trust that he would ensure no harm would come to you.”
Vashna watched as the Queen smiled. It was a shrewd move from Althalos and one that Vashna had little choice in. He did believe in the Prince but that did not make him careless.
“It is not the Prince I fear. It is the other Warlords,” Vashna said.
Norva moved on from the grapes and selected an orange. She bit into it and then began to peel it where her teeth had punctured the skin. “He considered that too. He guarantees that only the Warlords and one or two of their chosen men will accompany him to make the numbers even.”
“What about the King?” Vashna asked. He glimpsed Mirinda flinch at the mention of her husband. She looked down at her lap. Vashna had noticed she had not been so keen to be reunited with her husband. He thought it strange but it was none of his concern.
“The King will not be attending,” Norva said.
“Is he well?” Vashna asked. Mirinda looked up.
“The Prince assured me the King was healthy.” Norva addressed her answer to the Queen who gazed down at her lap. Vashna was glad the King would be absent. If Frindoth was to move forward then the Prince did not need the overbearing shadow of his father. Perhaps Jacquard realised this and had purposely chosen to remain in the background.
“It appears the Prince has thought of everything,” Vashna said. Norva shrugged as if the scheming and political manoeuvring held little interest to her. It probably didn’t. Vashna wondered if the Ghost Assassin would be so nonchalant were she faced with the prospect of meeting with her former enemy in his own home and with no protection? Knowing Norva Steele she would have killed the Prince long ago. Maybe he could take a lesson from that. Maybe he could send a bunch of assassins to eliminate Cordane, Raoul Seth, Gambon and Lord Frindolin. It would certainly save lives. Most people would not care, if they were treated fairly and could make an honest living; the average person would not care who ruled them.
"What about him?" Vashna asked and nodded towards Stasiak. The warrior tried to look impassive but he flexed his fingers telling Vashna he was interested in the answer.
Norva looked at Stasiak as if seeing him for the first time. She had a difficult time separating the man before her who cared so much for the mother he barely knew from the monster she had heard so much about. Vashna knew how she felt. He had seen Stasiak mellow in recent weeks. He had witnessed how the ferocious warrior had slowly begun to question all that had occurred around him. It had not been an obvious transition but Vashn
a had known how despicable Stasiak had been before. The fact he was not so quick to commit mindless violence was a significant change. He recalled how Stasiak had not laughed when Vashna had been humiliated chewing on the Frostbite melon. At first he thought it was simply because the former painted man had no sense of humour but now he thought it was because Stasiak did not enjoy the needless cruelty. It was ironic considering that in the past, Stasiak had carved heads in two and ordered his men to sew them back together but upside down. And then there had been the barely concealed rage which had boiled through the warrior's veins at the sight of Raoul Seth. A man with that much hatred towards another must understand the difference between right and wrong. For Stasiak had surely been wronged. It did not bear thinking about what the ruler of Lakisdoria had done to warrant that much hatred from someone as callous as Stasiak.
"I did not mention Stasiak. I thought you would want to tell the Prince," Norva said. Her cheeks coloured as if she was unsure of her decision now.
"You were right," the Queen said. "I want to be the one to tell my son he has a brother and my husband he has a second son."
The Queen stood and faced Stasiak. The warrior glanced at Norva and Vashna with panic in his eyes. He was unsure what the Queen was about to say and even more unsure how he was supposed to react in front of an audience. Mirinda did not seem to care who was watching as she took both of her son's hands in hers. "I know this is extremely difficult for you. You were raised to believe Althalos was your enemy but he is not. He is your brother. I only understand part of what was done to you but I will spend the rest of life making up for the horror you have endured.
It is time for you to forget your past and look to the future. Stasiak was never who you were supposed to be. It was never your name. It is a name given to you by a man who is twisted and evil. A bastard who gleaned satisfaction in rearranging the letters in your name to represent how he rearranged your mind and turned you into a weapon of destruction."
Stasiak's bottom lip trembled as he clenched his jaw shut. His nostrils flared as he struggled to deal with the loving look his mother gave him. Vashna looked away. He felt guilty for witnessing such a moment. Particularly as the man had never shown any weakness and whose answer to any situation he could not cope with was to use a sword. Stasiak was trapped in his mother's gaze and could not handle it. Norva contented herself with inspecting the fruit.
In the end Stasiak asked "Stasiak is not my name?" He asked the question with a choked sob.
"No," Mirinda said. "I named my second son Stasiak’s. It is your true name and how you shall be forever known from now on."
Chapter 6
Tatanya slammed the dough down on the table and began kneading it for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. The sun had only just begun to rise and already her arms throbbed. Sweat trickled down through her fringe and threatened to sting her eyes. She punched the gooey mess in front of her and imagined it was Mahria's face. The stern cook was even worse than Morag. Whereas Morag was strict she was at least reasonable in her expectations. Mahria was positively brutal in what she asked the girls to do.
"You don't need to ground it as hard as that," Sandra said.
"I was just told I had not done it hard enough," Tatanya snapped. Sandra was the only girl who had spoken to her since Morag had moved Tatanya to the kitchen to teach her a lesson for her insolence. Tatanya had taken an instant dislike to her as well. All Sandra did was correct her in a supercilious way that made Tatanya want to pick up the dough and slap her round the face with it.
"Well maybe you will get it right with the next one," Sandra said and offered a tight smile.
"The next one? How many more do we need to bake?"
Sandra laughed revealing her crooked teeth with large gaps between them. "My, my, you really are naive we have barely started this morning."
Tatanya lifted her head to the ceiling and sighed. She had broadly enjoyed her experience since arriving at Lilyon. She had not seen much of Jacquard but she had been treated well. She had been told that going home was not an option right now due to the danger that surrounded the White City but if she was willing she could work whilst she lived in the palace and earn some coin. Tatanya had jumped at the chance. Having lived with Saisko all her life, she was not afraid of hard work and though the idea of living in a palace would be rather grand, she had also thought the work could not be that difficult compared to what she was used to. How wrong she was! The life of a maidservant was demanding and the constant instruction had irked her. However, she was now learning that life as a maidservant was nothing compared to the early hours and demands of the kitchen. This was her second day and already she was plotting how to extract herself from the role.
"Daydreaming, are we?" Mahria's shrill voice made her jump. She received a clip round the head which angered Tatanya rather than hurt her before Mahria's chubby face peered over her shoulder to inspect Tatanya's work. Tatanya detected the strong odour of coffee on the cook's breath and wrinkled her nose. She detested the drink and the smell made her gag. Mahria tutted and shoved Tatanya aside.
"You need to pound the mixture, grind it deeply and then fold it over and do it again. The only way to make good bread is hard work, sweat and tears."
Tatanya made a show of wiping the sweat on her brow and holding up her wet fingers for the cook to see. Mahria slammed her rolling pin on the table top and gestured for Tatanya to resume her place. "Maybe I will have to do something to bring on the tears!" she growled.
"Looking at your reflection should do the trick," Tatanya said.
"What was that?" Mahria enquired and stepped close to Tatanya, the smell of coffee overwhelming. The cook had a plain face and her brown eyes were magnified behind her glasses. Her hair was a mass of tangled black curls which was sprinkled with flour. She seemed to always have some ingredient loitering amongst the ringlets.
"Nothing," Tatanya said although she was pleased to see a few of the girls sniggering behind the cook.
"How is this?" Sandra said diffusing the situation and revealing a lump of perfectly kneaded dough.
Mahria stared at Tatanya a little longer. For her part, Tatanya did not look away. Eventually Mahria turned away and inspected Sandra's effort. "Ah now this is more like it. I wish I had seven of you Sandra. You will make a great cook one day."
Sandra beamed whilst further along the table one of the girls rolled her eyes. Tatanya fought the urge to knock Sandra's dough to the kitchen floor. Anything to wipe the smug grin off the girl's face. As Mahria went along the line criticising and lamenting her life for being given such woefully inadequate girls, Tatanya yawned. She was bored of the kitchen already. This was not her life. She knew it was only temporary. She was only here for punishment but even when she was returned to Morag, she would not be a maidservant for long. She had decided palace life was not for her. Although she did like Shana. Shana was kind. The young woman was also interested in hearing all the facts that Shana knew. She had not known that a reindeer's eyes turn blue in winter to help them see better or the Queen lizards of Wildecliffe Shore could run faster than a horse over a short distance. When she had tried these facts on Sandra this morning, the girl could not have been more bored.
Shana was different, she was positive and fun to be around. She was all that Tatanya needed when thoughts turned to her mother and father and how far away they were. Tatanya had always been independent but that did not mean she did not need her mother and father. Despite thinking otherwise most of the time, she recognised that she was young - a lot younger than all the other girls.
“Girl!” Mahria’s shout made her jump again. “Stop your dawdling and get back to work and get a haircut,”
As insults went it was weak and rather ironic considering the mop that sat on top of Mahria’s head. Tatanya raised a hand to the side of her head, running her fingers along the stubble. The first thing she had done once she reached Lilyon was to shave off the sides of her hair again.
“I can’t cut an
ymore off the sides,” Tatanya said.
“Well grow some then,” Mahria said.
“How can I do that? It grows when it grows?”
“Just…Eurghhh, I can see why Morag sent you away. Just do your job,” Mahria said.
“Silly old sow,” Tatanya muttered.
Mahria gave her an evil look. She had obviously heard the comment but decided it was not worth pursuing the bickering.
“Ahem,” Tatanya looked up to see Fyfe standing in the kitchen doorway. He had the ghost of a smile on his face. Her heart leapt at the sight of the chief advisor to Prince Althalos. He had been another who had looked after her when she first arrived. “Cook Mahria, may I borrow Tatanya for a while?”
Tatanya had lifted her apron off and hung it up on the hook behind her before Mahria could speak. Mahria was about to object out of principle but then decided she would rather be rid of the young girl. She waved Tatanya away and turned from Fyfe.
“Where we going?” Tatanya said not giving the rest of the girls a second thought.
This time Fyfe did smile. “Follow me I want to talk to you.”
Tatanya fell into step beside the man. He was double her size and one of his hands could easily fit around one of her arms. He would have no trouble kneading bloody dough. They walked in silence along through the lower corridors until they came to a small arched door Tatanya had never seen before. Fyfe drew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. It creaked open to reveal a stone spiral staircase heading upwards. He held the door and gestured for her to enter.
“Where does it lead?” Tatanya asked ever the curious girl.
