by Candy Rae
Crispin had selected his tower room for a reason. No-one could overhear what he was about to say.
Under the pretence of holding a card party he had arranged the evening, providing wine and titbits. However, neither he nor his guests would be playing cards. It was, in Prince Crispin’s considered opinion, time to take his father’s plan on to its final stage.
As Paul Hallam (and some others) had suspected, it had been a man Crispin had sent who had persuaded the foolhardy Count of Markwood to set out for Dagan under the misapprehension that a colony led by him would be welcome there thus sowing distrust between Murdoch and Vadath. Not knowing about the storm, the shipwreck, Crispin still lived in hope that this part of the plan would succeed. His father wanted what might be called ‘un-cordial relations’ to exist between Vadath (who always supported the rights of the rtathlians and the other northern continent) and Murdoch.
He now knew that his father’s plan that the Dukes of Duchesne, Graham and Charleson should declare their independence from the crown had not succeeded. When he had found out about this, he had made a note to dispose of the interfering Duke of Hallam as soon as it was convenient. Paul, Duke of Hallam was in fact the third name on Crispin’s death-list, the first being his mother-in-law Queen Antoinette and the second being the Lord Prince Marshall.
Prince Crispin of Leithe was rather a vain young man which was unfortunate for both himself and his father’s ambitions. King Cadan had instructed Crispin to wait for Erik Halfarm to bring him the power core before he made a move in the palace itself. Crispin had decided not to wait. Crispin did not like Erik Halfarm. This would be his success, his victory and he needed no help from an illegitimate uncle.
One of four brothers, all vying for the attention and approval of a largely uncaring father, he wanted to prove himself, to prove he was the best of his brothers. As de facto King of Murdoch he would have a rank equal to that of his father, his brothers would be the ‘also-rans’, even the eldest, Catar, his father’s blood-heir.
Royal politics were dangerously murky in Leithe (as in Murdoch). His father had murdered his elder brother to become the blood heir of his father. Perhaps he, Crispin would do the same to Catar and Lars and become, after his father’s death Emperor of the Great Eastern Sea and Murdoch both!
* * * * *
The entire royal palace at Fort had always been a hotbed of intrigue and sedition, not only Crispin’s tower room. This, the year of AL 808, was no different.
Kellen Philip Ross and Kellen Charles Karovitz left the office of Baron Peter Taviston, head of the Bureau of Internal Affairs worried men but with a task ahead of them.
“I didn’t realise the full extent of Prince Crispin’s involvement until today,” Charles said in a low voice.
“You and me both,” his companion replied, “nor how far his plans have progressed. I hope Daniel is all right.”
“You’ve had no word from him then?”
“Only the message that he had arrived in Markwood safely and that he intended to present himself to the Duke,” answered Daniel’s father Philip Ross.
“You think he left with them?”
“He must have or I would have heard.”
“Daniel is quick and resourceful. When he realised the Markwoods were serious and an expedition to Dagan inevitable he must have talked fast to persuade the Duke to include him in the party. He made a choice to go and I believe he made the right one.”
“Agreed and he might not have had the chance to send me word. If it is as Duke Paul and Peter Taviston thinks then he will have been watched. He’s a sensible lad, he wouldn’t have taken the risk. My guess is that when he realised what was happening he went anyway, to try and negate some of the damage. Of course, the Duke of Markwood might not have known anything about it.”
“You think not? I must beg to differ. Stupidity may be the Duke’s middle name but he’s not an unobservant man. He’s a brave lad your boy Philip. He made the decision to go with them to keep an eye on them. That couldn’t have been easy for him”
“And to put a spoke in their plans if he can? Aye, sounds like my Daniel, but I’m still worried Charles.”
“As I am, but we can do nothing to help him at the moment. Is the Queen sending a ship to Talastown?”
“A fast one, yes.”
“Hopefully they’ll be able to persuade them that Markwood is working on his own and that Murdoch does not condone his actions.”
“I hope so.”
“Meanwhile, we have another task.”
“Aye, to find out how far along Crispin’s other enterprises have got, elsewhere and here at court.”
What neither Philip nor Charles knew was that the department run by Baron Peter Taviston had been infiltrated by one of Crispin’s adherents.
Charles Karovitz and Philip Ross never got the chance to begin their investigations. They were waylaid in a dark corner of the old palace and brutally done to death. Their bodies were found a short time later by a serving maid whose screams were heard outside the palace walls.
Although Baron Peter Taviston suspected the complicity of Prince Crispin in the murders, he had no proof. He did however dismiss the three men in his department who he suspected of having been bought, much to Prince Crispin’s chagrin.
Baron Peter Taviston Crispin added to his list of people to be disposed of when he came to power.
* * * * *
The attack when it happened erupted out of the blue in an orgy of blood and violence.
Philip Ross and Charles Karovitz were taken by surprise. The latter didn’t even have time to draw sword from scabbard before he was dead, his neck sliced open and his body falling on to the stone floor in a pool of seeping blood.
Philip Ross had the quicker reflexes although he was the older man. He fought back but there were four of them to his one and he had no chance.
As he gasped his last breath in life and his knees buckled under him, the four attackers melted away.
Queen Antoinette ordered an investigation but despite Prince Lord Marshall Pierre’s best efforts and the efforts of others, the perpetrators were not caught.
* * * * *
“It is time to make our move,” whispered Prince Crispin the day after the murders, “is everyone in place?”
“Yes My Prince. We smuggled the last of our men in last night. They lie quiet as rudtka in the deepest cellars of the citadel.”
“The Palace Guard?”
“They will be neutralised, I promise.”
“They’d better be.” Prince Crispin mentally ground his teeth together.
“It would have been much easier if their officers were in our pay,” said the man, most ill-advisably.
Seconds later and he was on the floor rubbing his chin.
Crispin, in his anger had punched him.
As he scrambled to his feet the man thanked whoever was looking after him from the netherworlds that his employer hadn’t had a knife in his hand.
“Now remember,” Crispin continued, “my wife must not be harmed.”
“The Queen?”
“Her death will be unfortunate, an accident. I’ve already been rehearsing condolence speeches. Tomorrow night. Midnight candlemark. Go.”
Crispin watched him leave. Soon, very soon, he would be de facto ruler of his mother-in-law’s country, in accordance with his father’s orders and if anyone tried to stop him, or rebelled against him when he reached his goal, well, the power core would be in his hands soon enough. He already had the instructions about how to use it.
* * * * *
With stealth, Kellen Kenneth Stewart made his way through the dark lit corridors to the chambers belonging to Kellen Robert Crawford. He was being extra careful not to be seen. As one of Prince Crispin’s ‘closest friends’ it was unlikely that he was being followed, but he kept a wary eye open and his hand on his sword-hilt, just in case.
* * * * *
It’s set for tomorrow night, midnight candlemark,” he informed Robert Craw
ford.
“Crispin’s men?”
“The lower dungeon level,” Kenneth Stewart informed him. “They’ve been gathering there this past tenday. He laughed. “T'wont be hard to distinguish them from the loyal members of the Court and Royal Guard. They’ll be stinking to high heaven.”
“Dungeon level,” mused Robert Crawford, “how convenient. Good. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Not too soon I trust,” said Kenneth, “I mean, you don’t want to alarm them.”
“They’ll be in place at the right time and not before. Like you I don’t want to alert our slippery little prince. You’ve done well Kellen Stewart.”
“I’m a loyal subject Kellen Crawford as I trust I’ve proved.”
“Of course. Now, I need you to do one more thing for me. You’ll have to go back to the Prince. Keep a weather eye out. Act normally at all costs.”
“I’ve been ‘acting normally’ for a number of months now,” Kenneth answered with a wry grin. “The Queen’s safety?”
“She will be safe, I promise you.”
“And my brothers, Malcolm and Andrew?”
“As I told you before Kenneth, we shall do our best. It all depends on them in the end though.”
And with that Kenneth Stewart had to be satisfied.
* * * * *
The lower dungeon level at Fort was dank and unpleasant. Water dripped down the rough hewn walls and fell into stagnant pools which but slowly seeped away.
Prince Crispin’s followers complained but endured the discomfort, quietly, echoes were wont to carry and the threat of discovery ever present.
Some endured due to misplaced loyalty to Prince Crispin. Others endured because of the promise of payment or the prospect of a lucrative position in government or at court when the coup was successful.
Prince Crispin had been lavish with the contents of his purse.
That they were traitors to their sworn liege-lady, the Queen, most gave no more than a passing thought.
A few were having second thoughts and were beginning to wish they had never got involved.
One of this minority was Kenneth Stewart’s brother Malcolm and the only reason he was still a member of the prince’s party was to keep an eye on their youngest brother Andrew, the most hot-headed one among the three.
For the life of him though, Malcolm couldn’t think of a single way he could extricate Andrew (and by inference himself) from their predicament. Perhaps Kenneth might know. Malcolm had a lot of faith in Kenneth’s abilities.
Why had he listened to Prince Crispin’s promises? Why?
But Malcolm knew why, his gambling debts. The prince had paid them off but had demanded his loyalty in return. Andrew had joined the plotters because he was eager for adventure and excitement.
Malcolm lifted his head as another sat down on the rough stone bench beside him.
“Hi brother,” said Kenneth.
* * * * *
-46-
THE DUCHY OF HALLAM, KINGDOM OF MURDOCH, A LITTLE WAYS NORTH OF THE MANOR HOUSE
“You’re a cold-drake, aren’t you?” stammered Jill.
“That is a very offensive term. I prefer dragon myself, more dignified somehow if you won’t use the word Lai.”
“Are, are you going to eat me now? I don’t think I’ll taste very good.”
Maru pretended to consider this and eyed Jill up and down as if he was assessing how tasty she might be.
“You do look a bit scrawny,” he admitted, “perhaps I should take you away and feed you up a bit first.”
Jill decided at this point that her adventure wasn’t turning out too well.
Maru laughed.
“Maru is my name and I am joking you young lady. You are?”
“”I am Contessa Jill Hallam,” she declared, straightening her back.
“The daughter of Paul, Duke of Hallam?”
“Why, yes,” she said with a gulp. How did this Maru know this? Does he know Father? Surely not.
“A fine man. I have heard only good reports of him,” said Maru, nodding his huge goldy-coppery head, “now Jill Hallam, can you keep a secret?”
Jill nodded with vigour.
“You must tell no-one you have seen me here,” Maru instructed, “although you must tell your Father. But no-one else, not even your sister with whom you have not hidden anything from before.”
Jill gulped again. How did he know she had a sister she always shared everything with?
“I promise.”
“That is good. Now, this is what you must say. Tell your father that the time of the great event draws close and that one will come soon who will make all clear. Can you do that?”
Jill gulped and nodded.
“You have much the look of your grand-sire about you, Jill Hallam,” said Maru, adding, “and the wish for adventure.”
“Father does say I take after his father, usually when I’ve done something wrong or disobedient.”
Maru laughed, “and the temperament of others before you and in your blood-line too I see.”
Jill didn’t quite know what to make of that but she was a duke’s daughter. She knew her manners and clearing her throat suggested that Maru might wish to speak to her father himself.
“I can go get him for you if you don’t want to come to the manor.”
“Not yet Jill Hallam, daughter of your father and descendant of the Robain whom once I knew. Not yet awhile. Now I must take my leave.”
* * * * *
Jill watched Maru fly away, she watched until he was only a pin-prick in the sky then she hurried home to tell her father.
As she kneed her pony into a canter she was wishing Maru had taken her away to ‘fatten her up’. Before today Jill had believed that riding her pony was the most wonderful thing she would ever know. Now she was not so content.
She wanted to fly!
* * * * *
-47-
THE SOUTHERN CONTINENT – THE NADLIANS OF THE LARG
The Dalina dropped anchor at, as Captain Hallam told them, the last safe anchorage at the very eastern tip of the Kingdom of Murdoch.
“This is as far as I can take you,” he told Thalia, “you sure they landed around here? It’s a pretty inaccessible spot.”
“Vya is sure and I believe her,” Thalia answered, “she is Avuzdel and they have ways of finding out things that would probably defy both of our imaginations. It certainly does mine. If she says the men landed here then land here they did.”
“Fair enough,” he answered. “You want me to take a message back for you?”
“Thank you Captain but that won’t be necessary and thanks again for all your help, hospitality and the supplies. They will come in very useful where we’re going.”
“I wish I could do more,” Alun Hallam fretted, “I don’t like the idea of you five on your own out there. You could be walking into a trap.”
“I am assured that we are not,” said Thalia, “true, the thieves have met with others, we’re not sure how many yet but Vya says that there will be help available if and when it is needed.”
“Strange are the ways of the Lind.”
“How true that is. I've been bonded with Josei for a number of years and he still surprises me.”
Captain Hallam laughed, “I’m sure he does. Well, that’s it then Vadeln Thalia.” He held out his hand for the traditional goodbye handshake. “Good luck and good hunting. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.”
“Thanks on both counts,” grinned Thalia as she passed through the sally-port for the last time and dropped into the boat which would take her to the shore.
Captain Hallam sighed as he watched his oarsmen make headway through the surf.
He wondered if he should have sent a party with her, at least for part of the way but discounted the idea almost as soon as it hit him. Lind were fast and his sailors would only have become an encumbrance.
Back to the islands the Dalina would go.
* * * * *
On t
he beach, Thalia spoke to Daniel.
“We’ll have to skirt round the duchies. Vya and Josei don’t look much like horses nor do they run like horses.”
“No hooves either,” Zeb mentioned.
“It’ll be much quicker to travel through Charleson,” complained Daniel who had friends in the duchy and had been looking forward to a comfortable bed for at least one night.
Thalia pretended to consider that but answered as he knew she would, “we’d never get through undetected.”
“Disguise?”
This time Thalia’s answer was a withering look.
“Ok, point taken, we go through Largdom.”
They began their run south, Daniel wondering anew at the ground devouring lope of his mount. It was far more comfortable and faster than a horse. He would be sleeping in a bedroll again come nightfall but the travelling was certainly much more easy that if they had been riding a-horseback.
* * * * *
That evening, both Daniel and Zeb undertook to brush Vya together.
“You know Zeb,” began Daniel as they worked, “women are unfathomable creatures.”
“I’ve heard Uncle Nonder say the same once or twice of an evening,” said Zeb, continuing his brushing with long and even strokes.
Vya chuckled : It is what we are : she telepathed to Zeb : a bit higher please. There’s an itchy bit just there. Yes, you’ve got it :
She leant into him.
