King’s Wrath

by Fiona McIntosh

  “I’m not. But I’d stake my next bottle of Rough on it. Not her first attack I’d suspect but definitely affecting her gait. She’ll need that big toe amputated if she’s not careful.”

  Elka frowned. “How much Rough have you had this morning, Physic Janus?”

  He gave a gust of laughter. “Is it morning? Ah yes.”

  “So the drinking began last night?”

  “The drinking began several anni ago, Olka.”

  “Elka,” she corrected. “How long will it take you to sober up?”

  “I hate to be sober.”

  “I am prepared to pay for you to be sober. I need help with some injuries.”

  “You look all right to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing with me. Your help is required for a friend.” Friend? When had she come to think of Loethar as her friend? And yet the word felt right in her mind.

  “My doctoring skills are not what they used to be.” He laughed ironically at what Elka supposed was an understatement as he pulled at the dog’s ears.

  Badger was enjoying the attention, but Elka was losing patience. “What I need most, apart from your ministrations, is your discretion.”

  She had his attention now. “Well, well. A beautiful, big-bosomed giantess with a secret. How intriguing.”

  She raised an eyebrow at his familiarity.

  “Can I count on your tongue not loosening?”

  “Who am I to tell? Few people notice me these days.” He gestured to the stand of trees through the window that hid his hut. “You can see where I choose to live. I’m hardly a sociable sort.”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Do we have a patient?” he inquired archly, making a show of peering around her large frame.

  “He is not here. I will take you to him.”

  His gaze narrowed as he considered her. “All right. Because you’re the first visitor I’ve had stand in my house in many a moon—and especially because you have magnificent breasts—I’m going to attempt to clean myself up. Why don’t you make us a pot of dinch? Do they have that where you come from?”

  She sneered, to cover her astonishment at his directness. “Do you have any dinch or a clean pot to make it in?”

  He nodded to a small sideboard. “I’ll bring out the good stuff. Look in that weaven cupboard.”

  She nodded and as he turned to leave her he said over his shoulder, “I’ll need it strong.”

  Elka busied herself preparing the dinch and was surprised by how quickly he returned. “I thought you’d need all day,” she said, not even trying to disguise the sarcasm.

  Janus was in a fresh robe. “My last clean one,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I was surprised to find it, to be honest.”

  “You should burn the other one,” Elka remarked.

  He nodded. “Dinch?”

  “I’ll pour it,” she said, picking up a cloth to handle the pot. “Aren’t you frightened a spark will set off a fire while you’re out cold?”

  “Hasn’t happened yet and it may do me a favor.”

  She frowned as she poured the brew into the two beautiful, fragile cups she had found in the cupboard. “What about Badger?”

  “He’ll survive, won’t you, boy?” Janus said, rubbing the dog’s head. “He’s not mine, to tell the truth. He just likes it here. If there’s no food in the offing, he goes off elsewhere. I have no idea who else feeds him but as you can see, he does just fine.” He took a sip from the cup she pushed toward him and sighed. “Well, it’s not a perfect Penraven brew, but it’s not bad at all. Thank you.”

  She gave him a soft glare. “How do you feel?”

  “Well, I know I’m not sober.”

  “You act as if you are.”

  “I’m a doctor. I should know. Anyway, I’m certainly lucid enough, so tell me about this patient of yours . . . the friend in need.”

  “He’s on the other side of Francham.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “It’s all you’re getting.”

  “I see. So he must be someone either very important or someone that others might be looking for.”

  “Or both,” she offered tartly.

  “Indeed. In fact, I would guess at both. But he’s not Davarigon?”

  She shook her head. “How much will you charge to come help him?”

  “That depends on what is required.”

  “Are you a surgeon?”

  His eyes flashed wide. “He’s that injured?”

  “Give me an amount, Janus. One that ensures your lips stay firmly shut.”

  He sipped his tea, blowing on it between sips. Finally, he said,“I’ll do it for free if you’ll show me your giant’s ti—”

  “Forget it!” she bellowed. “You’re a waste of my time.”

  “Forgive me, Elka. That was outrageously impolite of me.”

  “You cover your mouth when you belch, you drink from fine porcelain and yet you live like a slob and your mind is even filthier. What kind of contradiction are you?”

  He nodded. “I deserve that. Again I ask for your forgiveness.”

  She gave him a look of disbelief mixed with disdain. “I don’t understand you.”

  “Now you know why I am considered worthless in this town.”

  “What happened?”

  He sighed, drained his cup. “I’ll have another please.” As she poured, he looked down. “Have you heard of the sickness called ‘sullied tongue?’ ”

  She shook her head, frowning. “It sounds like a jest.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “It is certainly an affliction that the gods had some fun with.”

  Elka caught on. “You have this problem?”

  “You’re fast. Yes. I am openly rude to people I least want to offend. I have no control over what I say at times, or any warning.”

  “I’ve never heard of this disease before.”

  “Oh, I’ve met two other cases. One of them was the son of a prosperous merchant turned into a seeming lunatic who wandered from town to town as a beggar. The other was a teacher whose career was cut short by the onset of this disease as he hit his third decade. It seems to afflict men.”

  “And it happens constantly?”

  He nodded. “I can behave perfectly acceptably most of the time. My affliction is actually rather mild. And yet it is offensive enough to have singled me out for ex-communication. I think the baker takes pity on me because his father and mine were friends. We didn’t exactly grow up together but he knows my outspoken words are never intentional. Again, I apologize for what I said. Being drunk keeps me lucid and my tongue clean. Ironic, eh?” He paused. “Your giant arse must be stunning naked.”

  She swung around and gave him a look of total disbelief. He shrugged, his expression one of mortification. “I will be apologizing constantly if you seriously want to go ahead with your proposition.”

  Elka laughed. “I’ve got broad shoulders, I’m sure I won’t wilt. How much?”

  “How long will it take?”

  She looked doubtful. “I can’t say for sure. A day?”

  “Two gold trents,” he said sharply.

  “That’s robbery.”

  “I’m an opportunist, can’t you tell?”

  Elka nodded. Loethar needed help sooner rather than later. “All right. We’ll leave now. You’re sure Badger will be all right without you?”

  “Lo, woman! You care more about the dog than me.”

  “The dog hasn’t tried to steal from me.”

  “I would like to rub your breas—”

  “Let’s go, Janus!” she said briskly, cutting him off before he disgraced himself again.

  Chapter Nine

  Gavriel had deliberately not woken Leo to take over watch but the king had roused himself before dawn and he’d had to come clean with the news.

  “You did what?” the king replied, a cup of water halfway to his mouth. Leo had heard it the first time, Gavriel knew, but he was making Gavriel repeat it in order to give h
imself time to digest the repercussions. He’d seen Brennus take an identical approach when his ire was up.

  “I told them to go.”

  “Why would you do that, Gav?”

  Gavriel hesitated.

  “Speak plainly,” Leo urged, his voice horribly cold but calm.

  Gavriel scratched his head. “Well, they were scared of you. Ravan is no enemy of yours and—”

  “That’s rich, coming from the person who wanted to butcher the bird at the first opportunity,” Leo cut in quietly.

  “You’ve shown me the error of my ways,” Gavriel replied equally quietly. “If not for your reluctance to kill we would not now have a new ally.”

  “Do you really believe he’s our ally, even after he ran away from us?”

  “I do. Especially now that we have permitted him to go on with his journey . . . whatever it is.”

  “Not we, Gav. You. You made that decision, against the wishes of your king. I wonder if your father ever defied mine?”

  “We shall never know,” Gavriel said, keeping his tone even, not at all appreciating the way Leo kept comparing him to his father. “But I do know this: I didn’t like the way you looked at that boy, Leo. You don’t need to resort to acts of barbarism to prove your worth as a king. You are Valisar. No one can take that from you.”

  If Leo felt any offense it certainly didn’t show. “But my throne has been taken from me. And now I learn that perhaps even the crown isn’t mine, that the barbarian warlord is also Valisar and every bit as entitled to wear it as I am. I can’t be sure but I imagine Loethar—my own blood—would still kill me if he could, and now I discover I have a blood brother who also wants to kill me. And I have access to protection from death, but you, my loyal Legate and champion, is steadfastly denying me that protection.” Leo shook his head, then took a deep breath and stood. “I don’t need you any more, Gavriel. Your stupid Davarigon bitch has defied me and now you have blatantly defied my orders, believing you know better. My father would have had your father cleaved in two for less.” He laughed once, bitterly, not even ashamed for such a barb. “Except your father was loyal in a way you clearly cannot be. He always did what my father asked of him.”

  “Yes,” Gavriel said coldly. It was taking all of his will not to strike Leo for the way he spoke about Elka or jested at his father’s fate. Only the thought that Regor de Vis would turn in his grave if he knew his son had behaved so ignobly stayed his hand. “Perhaps my father would be alive today if he hadn’t. And my twin brother might be living alongside me too, and I wouldn’t have lost a decade of my life. The de Vis family has served yours faithfully, Leo, but it seems our role is to just keep on giving while you Valisars keep on taking. You’re a king, damn you. Act it! Stop bleating about who has done what to you and why your life is so full of woe. You’ve done nothing but cringe in the forest, Leo. Do you even really want to be king?”

  Leo had fallen ominously quiet, staring at Gavriel with an undisguised rage. “You know I do,” he growled.

  “Then take the crown! Stop hiding, stop blaming other people for everything that’s happened, and take responsibility for yourself. You don’t have to chop the hand off a child and eat it to protect yourself. Your father didn’t!”

  “My father was not at war.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “You heard what they said. Piven is hunting me.”

  “And Loethar has been hunting you for ten anni and didn’t find you because you were cunning and you were patient . . . and because you had allies like Faris and Freath. But you killed Freath because of some obsessively misplaced sense of duty that your mother would turn in her grave to learn of and you’ve driven away Faris because he rightly believes you want to maim him and turn him into a jabbering puppet. I would run too, Leo. I don’t blame Faris one bit. And I’ll be damned if I was going to let you hurt a ten-anni-old in the vain hope that he might make you invincible. The child may have been Vested but that doesn’t mean he was an aegis.”

  “We didn’t know that he wasn’t,” Leo hissed.

  “That’s true. But I’ll sleep more soundly knowing we didn’t hack him to bits only to learn he wasn’t. This is turning into a madness!”

  “You don’t seem to think Loethar was mad.”

  “I am not loyal to Loethar. What I think of him is irrelevant. What I think of you affects me profoundly.”

  “Well, Gav, I think you’ll have to get used to the notion that in order for me to claim my throne I need the same protection my rivals have. I suspect Loethar will have his aegis soon enough—despite what you think about the Davarigon’s intentions—and we already know that Piven has his. Are you happy to have me that vulnerable?”

  Gavriel took a deep breath. Then he said quietly, “Leo, you were born vulnerable! You were Crown Prince. History attests that there is always going to be someone who wants that crown. You wanted yours handed down on a golden plate. Well, that didn’t happen. Another Valisar wanted it. Crowns are won and crowns are fought for, Leo. My father died trying to protect it for his king. Your father died trying to give you a chance to claim it. So claim it! Fight for it. And don’t give me that petulant story that no one’s fighting fair. Life isn’t fair! Lo knows I’ve learned that the hard way. Neither of us has lived a fair life but it’s no use you bleating about it. But what you are suggesting is morally reprehensible. Stealing a child’s life—or anyone else’s, for that matter—cannot be justified by your wanting the crown. Killing to defend oneself or in war is one thing; killing in cold blood because you want something that another has is just plain murder.”

  “I wasn’t planning to kill anyone.”

  “Tell Roddy that—it would be living death and you know it.”

  Leo walked away and Gavriel waited. He watched the king he had loved, the friend he would have given his life to protect, turn and face him with a set to his jaw that Gavriel recognized with dismay. He had lost the argument.

  “I need the protection that is my birthright. If Cyrena thought that trammeling was wrong she would not have made it possible when Cormoron first walked this land. This, right now, is probably why such a magic as the aegis was given to our family, to ensure that one of the four of us would hold the crown.”

  Gavriel felt his throat close. “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s right, you didn’t know about my sister, did you, Gav?” Leo didn’t wait for Gavriel to answer. “Oh yes, my father made provision for her. I don’t know how or where. All I know is that her death was a sham for the sake of Loethar’s horde.”

  “But she’d be only ten,” Gavriel argued. Suddenly Ravan’s and Roddy’s curious conversation began to make sense. They must have known about the princess—that’s who they’d been talking about. They were traveling to the mountains for her! And if she was there, perhaps Corbel was with her. His heart leaped with excitement but an inner voice told him not to share any of this with Leo, who was still talking.

  “. . . nevertheless is still an heir and who knows how empowered she might be? She might be the most powerful of all. And as long as I have nothing to protect me, I am the least able to contest that crown and yet I believe in my heart that I am the right sovereign. I am the eldest child of Brennus. I am Leonel, Ninth of the Valisars. It is not my fault or my concern that my grandfather laid his seed in the stony ground of the Likurian Steppes or that his crown passed to his younger son, my father. The way the line has gone is not my doing. But I am the result. I am the king. I believe this with all of my heart.”

  “So do I, Leo.”

  “Then fight for me, not against me!”

  “I will not fight for you if it means butchering another person in cold blood. You don’t need me to do that.”

  And now Leo turned his suddenly cold blue eyes on his long-time friend. “I don’t need you at all, Gavriel de Vis.”

  Gavriel stared at him in disbelief. It felt like an eternity passed between them. He felt short of breath and as though his heart was bea
ting erratically.

  “So be it,” he finally said. “I will take my leave.”

  Leo smirked. “Make good distance. Next time I see you, I will kill you, Gavriel de Vis.”

  “I know you will try,” Gavriel said. He picked up his weapons and bowed. “Your majesty,” he said solemnly before he turned and walked away, not once looking back. He did not want his king to see his tears.

  They found Loethar where she’d left him; she really wouldn’t have been surprised to find him gone but her heart leaped to see him watchful but nevertheless patiently awaiting her return. He seemed to guess her thoughts.

  “I made a promise,” he said with a resigned smile. She grinned. “And you must be one of the horses she went off to purchase,” he said to Janus, who frowned and cast a glance at Elka.

  “This is Physic Janus.”

  “Forgive me, Janus. As you can see I’m bored and resorting to childish humor.”

  Janus hadn’t stopped frowning. “You know my name, may I know yours?” Loethar glanced at Elka inquiringly. In the hesitant pause, Janus followed his line of sight back to the giantess. “You’re being very mysterious, Elka.”

  “I have to be,” she said to him before looking back at Loethar. “I think we can trust him.”

  Loethar shrugged and winced. “This is your idea.”

  She sighed. “Janus, you don’t recognize him?”

  Janus regarded his patient. “He looks like a horse’s arse. Sorry.”

  Loethar blinked and when Elka gave a small chuckle he turned his gaze back to her in a soft glare of astonishment.

  “I’ll explain,” she said, enjoying his confusion. “Janus has a problem.”

  “I’ll say,” Loethar replied. “You called me handsome just hours earlier.”

  “I didn’t call you handsome. You did,” she corrected. “Janus has an affliction that compels him to say outrageous remarks. It doesn’t prevent him from being a good physic.”

  “And you know this how?” Janus asked, smiling softly at her.

  “I know,” she replied, turning to the physic. “I trust you with our emperor.”

  “Emp—?” Janus’s head swung back, his expression shocked, as he looked at Loethar. “No, it can’t be.”