The Challenge: Circle of Conspiracy Trilogy (Artesans Series Book 4)

by Cas Peace

  His gorge rose when he thought of those two unnatural beings behaving so wantonly in the King’s very castle, but he knew what a powerful weapon this was. Not only was it one he could hand to his disaffected young contact at the Manor, it was also something he could work on now, through his influence over the King’s Guard. All it would take was a small gold coin placed in the hand of Jinella’s maid, along with instructions as to what rumors to spread. How easy it would be to discredit and wound his enemies, proving beyond doubt that oaths, even those of marriage, meant less than nothing to these Artesans; a fact he had long suspected. The presence of such a young and attractive woman as the Colonel among the lusty males of the King’s fighting forces was as unhealthy as it was provocative, and he could use this incident as yet another lever with which to pry at Elias’s misguided policies. What a gift it was!

  Almost laughing aloud, he made for the Queen’s apartments. He knew she would be alone at this hour for she and Elias only ever tolerated each other at best and avoided too much contact, and she would be as pleased as he with this latest turn of events.

  *****

  They were due to leave Port Loxton around mid-morning. Sullyan was thankful it wasn’t earlier, as it gave her the chance to recover from yet another serious bout of nausea. She couldn’t even bring herself to drink fellan that morning as the mere thought made her stomach heave, and she regretted permitting Denny to pour her that wine last night. She really ought to know better. Instead, she forced herself to eat some dry bread and, finally, she began to feel better.

  King Elias readily granted her the private interview she asked for. His steward showed her into the King’s presence, and she didn’t miss the disdainful look the man gave her. She knew how many people had heard Reen’s accusation the day before, and she wasn’t surprised at some of the odd looks she received from the servants that morning.

  Elias welcomed her into his private sitting room and looked narrowly at her. “Are you quite well, Brynne? You look a little pale this morning.”

  “I will be well, Elias, I thank you. I should know by now not to drink red wine in the evening.”

  “Shouldn’t we all?” He smiled as he sat down. “I’m glad you asked to see me. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. Was that ‘accident’ what I suspect it was?”

  “I fear so, Elias. It had to be the work of an Artesan. And no,” she forestalled his question with a raised hand, “I have no idea who was responsible. Taran and I made a thorough study of the substrate yesterday. Whoever it was left no trace that we could discover.”

  “Is that unusual?” The King leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs. Elias was dressed in leather breeches, long boots, linen shirt, and overtunic. He was deliberately wearing dull clothing, as was his habit when traveling through Albia. It was prudent to be unobtrusive, thought Sullyan, her fears uppermost in her mind, although a full contingent of King’s Guard would soon be noticed in the countryside.

  She met his gaze. She was dressed in her normal combat leathers and bore her sword by her side as she was now on duty. It was a measure of the King’s respect and trust that she was permitted to go armed and alone into his presence. Only his most loyal officers gained that privilege.

  “Yes, it is most unusual. Whoever was responsible for that Earth-shift was remarkably skilled and powerful.”

  “Could you have done it?” he asked. “Left no discernable trace, I mean.”

  She hesitated. “Probably. If I really needed to.”

  Seeing his puzzlement, she explained. “When an Artesan reaches for the power of Earth, or any of the elements, he has to use the portion of his psyche that most closely corresponds to the signature of that element. This leaves an echo, an imprint, if you will, in the substrate, as does the element itself when it responds. These imprints fade over time, but the stronger the wielder’s power, the longer the image takes to fade. That Earth-shift must have been exquisitely controlled, otherwise it would have left no one in the vicinity standing. This indicates someone with very strong powers: a Master-elite at the very least.

  “But to leave no imprint behind takes determination and very fine control, and also the ability to hide one’s pattern within the element itself. Obviously, it can be done, but it is not a skill we foster as we generally have no need to conceal our working. Were I to take a few days to practice, I could hone the strength necessary to accomplish the feat. But it would take considerable effort and would tire me unnecessarily. It is not something I would do unless I saw a definite need.

  “To possess the level of control necessary to do what was done yesterday, the Artesan concerned would have to be a Senior Master. And to my knowledge, there are only two of us in existence.”

  The King listened intently. She knew that the Artesan craft had always fascinated him, and that something within him yearned toward controlling the elements through his own life force. He told her once that he felt he would instinctively know how to do it, if only he had been born with the talent. For now, however, her words alarmed him.

  “But if he can hide his working so well, surely he can also hide his existence? Isn’t it likely to be some Andaryon lord with a grudge who’s trying to foment trouble between our realms? After all, Rykan was going to use that Staff to overthrow Pharikian. I know Timar believes that the weapon was made elsewhere, but doesn’t Rykan’s rebellion suggest that the plot itself originated in Andaryon?”

  Sullyan shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “Not necessarily. You must remember that Artesans are welcomed and encouraged in Andaryon, their talents nurtured and trained. They have no need of concealment. No, your Majesty, I am certain that whoever is behind this is not Andaryan. Both Timar and I believe he could very well be human. I also fear he is being coerced.”

  Elias sat straighter. “How on earth could you coerce such a powerful Artesan? How would someone like me, for example, succeed in controlling and manipulating you?”

  Sullyan turned the full force of her gaze on him and saw him shiver. She knew he could almost sense the unimaginable energies she commanded, seething just below the surface, ready to flood out at her bidding. Seeing his discomfort, she lowered her eyes.

  “You would have to have an unshakable hold over me.”

  She felt his sudden eagerness, feeling they were close to some kind of understanding. “Such as?”

  She flicked him a glance. “Let us say, for instance, if you were holding and threatening someone very dear to me.”

  “Yes,” he mused, his eagerness growing, “something or someone you were too frightened to risk. Someone too precious to endanger.”

  They stared at each other, their feelings shared. Sullyan was thinking of Robin, or even Bulldog, Taran, or Rienne. She could not imagine allowing harm to come to any of her dear friends, although whether threatening them could force her into attempting Elias’s life, she could not say. She prayed she would never find out.

  Elias, she knew, was thinking of his children; the only consequence of his alliance with Sofira he cared anything for.

  Sullyan then told Elias about the raids into Andaryon by unknown Albians. He reacted as angrily and indignantly as she expected. He was on surer ground here, and determined to root out the perpetrators of this breach of his sworn word. He was proud of the alliance with Pharikian, something no Albian monarch had ever managed before, and the flow of trade goods had only just begun. Anything jeopardizing this arrangement struck at the heart of Elias’s policies, and he wouldn’t tolerate it. His scheduled visit to the Manor would give him the opportunity to discuss the problem with his General.

  “Come then, Colonel,” he said, throwing an arm about Sullyan’s shoulders. “We will raise this serious business with Lord Blaine. I take it your young Major will have returned from Andaryon by the time we arrive?”

  “Indeed, your Majesty. I confess I am eager to see him.”

  “I’m sure you are,” chuckled Elias, refusing to allow her disturbing report to rattle his goo
d humor. He had been looking forward to the inauguration of his College for some time now and nothing was going to spoil the occasion. A trip away from Port Loxton also meant a respite from the Queen’s disapproving presence, and that was always to be treasured, even if he did have to endure the company of her pet weasel, Reen.

  They left the royal suite together. As they made their way to where Elias’s escort was waiting in the garrison courtyard, Sullyan couldn’t help noticing the stares, sniggers, and behind-hand whispers of the castle servants.

  Lieutenant-Major Owyn Denny was in command of the forty-strong contingent of King’s Guard waiting in the courtyard. Sullyan returned his respectful salute, which was marred by the knowing grin he made no attempt to hide. She ignored it.

  Elias acknowledged the massed homage of his guard and raised his brows when he spotted Master Ardoch among the riders. The old swordmaster brushed aside the King’s tacit query. He had trained Elias’s father as well as Elias himself, and the two men knew each other well. Their relationship was much more complex than sovereign to subject, and the Master held a unique place at court. His decisions were his own to make. Elias accepted his presence with a shrug.

  “Just let me know if the pace becomes too much for you, old man,” he said. They all laughed at Ardoch’s growled retort.

  Sullyan swung up onto Drum. Taran, who had joined the group earlier and was already mounted, gave her a sharp glance. Sullyan had control of the nausea now and was giving it no further thought, but the Adept had something else on his mind and rode close to speak with her privately.

  “Have you noticed the attitude of the servants this morning, Colonel? I’ve been getting some very queer looks. Even some of the Guard have been acting strangely.”

  Sullyan glanced at him, and then at the faces of the men around her. None of them met her gaze. She paused before shrugging. “I imagine that yesterday’s events have left everyone feeling uncomfortable, Taran. Nervousness in the servants is to be expected; an assassination attempt always leaves fear behind. As for the men, they know they must be more alert than usual and are probably releasing tension as best they can. They will settle once we move out.”

  There was a delay while they waited for the last member of their group, and Elias quickly grew irritable. He was on the verge of sending a page to ferret out the tardy Baron when the man suddenly appeared, his niece walking beside him. Taran colored when he saw Jinella.

  The Lady Jinella was resplendent in a gown of russet silk. Her sunlit blonde hair cascaded around her face and an expensive-looking diamond necklace sparkled at her throat. She spared Taran never a glance as she bid her uncle a fond farewell, but the look she aimed at Sullyan was venomous.

  The Baron, dressed in flamboyant riding gear with a long cape flowing from his shoulders, mounted the chestnut pacer held for him by a groom. As soon as he was settled, the King gave the order to move out. He rode his roan charger at their head, accompanied by Denny. Taran and Sullyan rode just behind him, together with Master Ardoch. Drum put back his ears and snaked his head at the Torlander’s gray stallion and received an admonitory swat on the neck from his rider.

  “It’s about time ye trained that unruly beast of yours,” said Ardoch. Sullyan replied with a pithy soldier’s insult which drew an audible chuckle from Denny. She frowned at his back.

  “You should have lost all your stake money yesterday, Owyn!”

  “Ah, but I didn’t, my Colonel,” crowed the young officer over his shoulder. “Our generous monarch here declared the race a draw, with that chestnut coming in third. All wagers were honored and I made a killing!”

  “You were very nearly not the only one,” said the Baron loudly.

  Sullyan turned to stare at him before pushing Drum up beside the King. “Your Majesty,” she said deliberately, “might I ask why the Baron has been included on this trip? What useful function does he serve?”

  Elias kept his expression neutral, although anyone who knew him well could see his irritation. “I suggest you ask him, Colonel.”

  Sullyan stared once more at the colorfully dressed Baron. “Very well,” she said. “My Lord Baron, why have you come on this journey?”

  Reen sat taller on his sedate pacer and spoke stiffly. “I am here to serve the interests of my Queen.” No one could miss the lack of respect in his tone.

  “And those are?” pressed Sullyan, riding closer. She shot Taran a pointed look, reminding him of her plan to unsettle the Baron, and his own task of watching the man’s reactions. She hoped he wasn’t dwelling on his ungallant treatment of Jinella. He had more important things to concentrate on.

  Reen answered coolly. “The welfare of her subjects and their moral well-being.”

  “And are those not the King’s interests as well?” Sullyan retorted.

  “Well said, Colonel,” added the Master loudly. Denny grinned.

  Shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, aware of the glances and flapping ears of the King’s escort, Reen tried to retain his dignity. “Queen Sofira cannot travel about the realm as easily as his Majesty. Her responsibilities are to her children. As her trusted advisor, she has instructed me to stand in her stead and act as she would when occasion demands.”

  “Are you saying the Queen does not trust his Majesty to act when occasion demands?”

  Sullyan knew she had the Baron on the run. He grew abruptly irritated by the grins of the men around him, and also by the stiff and unyielding back of the King, riding just ahead. It was too much for him to bear, and he snapped.

  “There is no authority that requires me to discuss the Queen’s personal business with you, Colonel! I am in her service and I follow her orders. Even you should be able to understand that.”

  Giving him a hard and knowing smile, Sullyan let the matter drop. She had noted his reference to following the Queen’s orders and bleakly wondered just how far those orders might go. Without another word she pushed Drum ahead again, nearer the King, her choice of position sending an unmistakable message to the Baron.

  She was pleased to see that Taran was watching the Baron covertly as the noble chewed his lip in angry frustration.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rest of the day passed without incident and they made good time, riding at a comfortable canter. They would be spending the night at the country residence of one of Elias’s nobles. They reached the sprawling manor house by dusk.

  A feast was set out for them and they made short work of it, having been in the saddle for many hours. Sullyan conferred with Taran before they went to their rest, but although she and Master Ardoch had needled the Baron often during the ride and at the feast, none of them had noticed anything other than the anger their nagging comments deserved.

  During the evening Sullyan contacted General Blaine, then relayed his words to Elias. Those involved in the military exercises in Andaryon had all returned safely, and Pharikian wanted to meet either with Elias or his representative to discuss the shocking raid on the two villages. The sandy-haired monarch was not surprised.

  Despite the manor house’s adequate security, Denny posted guards and set watches. Sullyan and Taran took their places within the Lieutenant-Major’s arrangements. Sullyan was feeling uncharacteristically weary and wondered if her affliction would return in the morning. She had been very careful about what she ate during the day and had drunk nothing but water, so she was hopeful of feeling well when roused for her dawn watch-duty.

  When the time came, she was pleased and surprised that the nausea had not returned. Even so, she couldn’t face her usual morning fellan. The strong and bitter smell actually threatened to make her stomach heave when normally it called her compellingly. She also caught herself absently rubbing the bones of her left wrist, as she had done often while they were healing from the injury inflicted by Rykan in the arena. They had long since regained their strength, but today they seemed to ache and quiver. Irritated by the strange sensation, she forced herself to eat some bread, finding that its bland taste se
emed to comfort her stomach. Thankful that something helped, she put some in her saddle pack.

  The weather that morning was unsettled. There was a humid feel to the air and large patches of dark gray cumulus discolored the eastern horizon. The ground outside was damp, although she hadn’t heard it rain during the night. There was a loamy smell to the air as the company mounted.

  *****

  Taran was glad of his new leather jacket, which kept out the wind blowing damply off the massing clouds to the east. Grimacing at the threatening sky, he made sure his cloak was close to hand. He saw that most of the men had done the same, as had Sullyan. He also noticed that the Baron, appearing late and last as before, was wearing even more elaborate clothing than the previous day. He was vividly resplendent in a green satin tunic over russet breeches, and his fine cloak was bright green trimmed with yellow. He stood out in stark contrast to the conservatively dressed Elias.

  Denny’s men formed up as usual around the King. Elias led them off and picked up the pace, and soon they left the manor house behind. Their route took them through the countryside, avoiding populated areas where possible. They were taking a shorter route than Taran and Sullyan had on the way out, and should reach the Manor by nightfall.

  Around midday they emerged from a wooded valley and rode up onto the Downs, the trail affording a good view of the surrounding farmland. Taran, who had been looking about with his normal curiosity, spotted something in the distance. He nudged his stallion up beside Sullyan where she flanked the King, and touched her arm lightly to gain her attention. He pointed eastward.

  “Colonel, isn’t that Fiann over there?”

  Sullyan looked where he indicated, a pleased smile lighting her face. The Sinnian bard was some way off, riding his small gray pony over the downlands. He was leading a pack animal laden with his instruments, and had not noticed their party.

  “Yes, Taran, I believe it is.”