Still holding Mairi’s shoulder, he tried to pull her closer.
She resisted. “I won’t allow you to take my place.”
Daric laughed. “Who said anything about taking your place?”
Mairi looked puzzled.
As well she might, Fa’rann thought. Did the man think he was just going to walk out of there?
“Why else would you come in such small numbers?” Mairi said. “I thought… Well, when I saw you approach, I thought you must have agreed an exchange, that Lord Breen decided you would make the better hostage. Is that true? Is that what is happening here? Because I won’t allow it, Daric.”
“We leave together, Mairi, there is no deal. I’ve brought friends to help me convince Breen to let you go. Cal will represent the Cren. We have Ranyr of the Ulroch. Gaiden and Ishban,” he pointed at the wolf and the tall man who was standing just inside the door. “Brin is here with Aleria, and this is Yacob, a legite missionary. When Breen sees what he is up against, he will let you go.”
Mairi was shaking her head before her husband had finished talking. “Lord Breen might have agreed with you, but I don’t think Lord Breen is in charge anymore. The way some of his guards talk about him, it’s as if they worship the man. He has changed, Daric. The man I saw wasn’t human.
Daric glanced around the room. Leaning close, he whispered something into Mairi’s ear that Fa’rann could not hear.
“Interesting,” Fa’rann said. He stroked Kasini’s flank. She purred and pushed her shoulder against his thigh. He scratched her under the chin, then slid the panel back. “Come, girl. Time to introduce ourselves.”
* * *
Finally, Daric let go of his wife. He had hugged her so hard, he worried he might crack a rib. She was crying again. Softly, this time, but the tears wet her cheeks. He had felt more than one tear of his own, but he could not completely give himself over to his feeling; they were not out of there, yet, he would let himself relax when they were safely on Lyduk’s back and flying north.
What Mairi had said worried him. Was Yosil right? Was Breen the demon Magryn had asked him to kill? If that were true, they had made a huge mistake; he could not count on a demon to think like a human.
You should have listened to Brin, Daric told himself. What the hell are you doing here? You should have waited, done what Cal said and gone to Brea’vis. Why didn’t you listen?
Insufficient information. I do not know why you did not listen to—
I wasn’t talking to you, Daric told the lattice.
A door Daric had not noticed opened in the wall to their right, and a cat the size of a Darkin wolf strolled into the ballroom.
“What in the nine hells is that?” Daric whisper.
Would you like me to tell you, or is this another trick question? the lattice said.
Not a trick question, Daric said. What is it?
The creature is a basti, the lattice told him. An extremely rare desert cat from the Almond Plains of western Sharm. They typically live in the valleys to the east of—
Yes, all right, that will do for now. Thank you.
Lord Breen followed the basti into the ballroom. Then, petting the huge cat, he shot Daric a wicked grin. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“If you say so. I’m more of a dog man, myself.”
Breen shrugged. “Each man to his own.”
His Lordship glanced around the group before asking, “To what do I owe a visit from such esteemed folk?” he asked.
Breen was dressed in a long robe. It looked nothing like any of the clothes an eastern lord might wear; more like that of a Myrashek sultan. If Yosil was right about the man, the demon possessing Breen’s body clearly favoured the southern fashions. But other than the clothes, there was no sign of any change from the arrogant man Daric knew from the palace. Tall, regal, somewhat pompous in his manner; this was definitely Breen – at least on the outside. As for the demon, Daric supposed he would have to wait and see.
“I think you know,” Daric said.
He was going to say more, but Gaiden stepped forward.
Eyeing the big cat, the old wolf said, “We are here to collect our friend.” He nodded at Mairi. “She has been gone too long. I’m sure we all thank you for your hospitality over these last few weeks, but it is long past time she was home.”
The old wolf turned to Mairi. “Are you ready to go, young lady? I would as soon we left early; these old bones don’t move as well as they once did.”
“I… yes,” Mairi said. She looked at Daric, then shot Breen a quick glance. “I just have the one bag, but it contains nothing of import. We can go right—”
Breen had started laughing. “You Rukin, you are such entertaining company. Really, I insist you all stay for dinner. Or better still, you should stay the night. We have plenty of room. I assure you, accommodating you all will not tax my resources.”
Gaiden made a bow. “Such a gracious offer, sir, but I fear you are somewhat deceived by what you see here – our numbers are far greater than this small group. I fear your resources would be… strained.”
“Oh, I think you would be surprised at the breadth of my abilities, sir.”
Outside, the sky suddenly darkened. Wood creaked under the howling wind which battered the shutters. The air was thick with driving snow and, despite all the windows being closed, the ballroom was suddenly filled with a chill air.
If Breen had caused the sudden change in the weather, it was an impressive trick, Daric thought. He wondered if the man was like Gialyn, and had control over the Voice.
Great, he thought. That’s all we need.
But Lord Breen seemed as surprised to hear the gusting wind as Daric was. It was the briefest flicker of movement, but His Lordship definitely had not expected the sky to blacken.
Breen hid it well, though, and at the far end of the ballroom, a partition opened. What the sliding door revealed was a mix of shadow and dark shapes, but it did not take Daric long to recognise what his eyes were seeing.
“Tolas!”
It was Mairi’s shout that identified the man chained up and hanging by his wrists against the back wall. Daric would not have recognised him: his face was a bloody mask, his eyes almost closed from the swelling around them, his cheeks and chin a carpet of purple and blue. Where his wrists were chained to the wall, thin tendrils of blood trickled down his forearms. His thumbs had been cut off, and there was no foot at the end of his left leg.
The two guards at the door pulled swords and stood in a fighting stance. Three more emerged from the alcove where Odaman was hanging. At the servant’s entrance, Daric was surprised to see another four men – where had they come from? Even had they not given up their weapons, they would still be outnumbered, and that was saying nothing of the big cat.
“What did you do to him?” Mairi asked, seemingly ignoring the new arrivals. “He did nothing to you. Why did you do that?”
She made to step toward the alcove, but Daric grabbed her arm.
“Oh, come now,” Breen said, “I only met the man once, and already I want him dead.”
Mairi struggle to free herself from Daric’s arms. She was moaning and cursing, her eyes full of tears. It was all he could do to hold her without hurting her.
“You had no right,” she cried. “He was no threat. You had no right.”
“I have all the right in the world,” Breen said. “You came here to interfere; you are a threat, and I will treat as such. Now, I suggest we all calm down. You had a plan, you wanted to force my hand, and it did not work. But despite your betrayal, I am a reasonable man, I see no need for violence.”
“Tell that to Tolas,” Mairi said.
Daric looked at the man hanging on the wall. Was Odaman even alive? If so, why was he not screaming? The wounds were fresh, barely an hour old; why wasn’t he thrashing about?
The man is dead, the lattice told him. Oddly, its voice was sympathetic.
Daric hugged Mairi close. She was shaking, sobbing quietly.
The dragons are still free, the lattice said. Would you like me to contact them?
You can do that?
Of course. Simply walk to the window and I will send a message. I need a clear line of sight. That… man… is interfering with the Voice.
I can’t go to the window. Can’t you just send a message from here?
A long pause. Then, I can try, but it would be better if you could go to the window.
Well, I can’t go to the window. Send the message. Tell Lyduk what has happened and ask him to get help. Ask her to try the Cren; we already know the wolves can’t—
Breen cleared his throat. “If you would all look this way, there is something I wish to share with you.”
One of the guards had pulled out a large chair from somewhere. She placed it on the dais opposite the bloody alcove. Breen nodded a thank you, then sat in the chair. The big cat circled the seat once, then sat on her haunches next to His Lordship. Her head was level with his, and she regarded Daric’s group with a look that went beyond a mere stare. Daric wondered if she was going to say something, but she simple purred as Breen rubbed behind her ear.
“Are we all calm?” Breen said.
Daric felt anything but calm. He had walked into a trap. Worse, it was not even a very good trap. The wind continued to batter against the windows as Daric regarding the man now sitting on the dais. Just who was he? A demon, like Yosil had insisted? A black raic? Something else entirely? He was no normal man, that much was plain. Daric felt at the lump in the lining of his cloak. How could he reach the hidden pocket without one of the guards noticing?
You can’t, he told himself. Have you got any ideas? He asked the lattice.
Not a valid question.
He had to grin at that. Turning his attention on Breen, Daric said, “I think we are about as calm as we are going to get, given the circumstance. Now you have got us here, what do you want from us? You must know the Rukin will hear of this, and we have friends watching your estate. If you have a plan, you should hurry it up before your home is overrun with wolves.”
Breen shrugged. “I think I have a little time,” he said. “In fact, given that most of the Rukin are currently spread across half of Crenach’coi, I imagine I have more than a little.” He shot Daric another of his wicked grins. “Oh, come now, did you think I would not know? And as for you,” he pointed at Ranyr, “I don’t even know what you’re doing here; the Ulroch will not venture north of Myrashek, never mind come all the way up to Whitecliff. As for the Cren, I fear they are spread too thin to give me a second look. You should have waited, Daric. You just had to rush in, didn’t you?”
He turned to Gaiden. “And you, my old friend, I fear you are mistaken; I have more than enough resources to look after all your friends.”
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, focus your attention on Morgat.”
“Why?” Daric asked. “Is she going to do tricks?”
“Oh, she has some very interesting tricks. One in particular, I think you will like. Look into her eyes. Are they not the deepest green? Watch as they change colour. Allow your mind to…
Daric felt suddenly tired. The edges of his vision began to close in. Soon, the cat’s eyes would be all he could see. He wanted to lie down, but could not. If he lay down, he would not see those green eyes anymore. Those beautiful green eyes.
He felt suddenly content. What had he been worry about? Mairi was quite safe. She was with Lord Breen, what safer place could there be? And now he was there, too. Together they could bask in His Lordship’s glory. He did not need the palace or Bailryn or his farm in Albergeddy. His family was here. His life was here. He should go find Gialyn, tell him to come to White…
What is happening to me? Why can’t I…?
You are staring at a basti’s eyes, the lattice said. The creature is hypnotising you. My mission is in danger. Recommend you look away.
Daric tried to close his eyes, to turn his head, but it was as if a string was pulling his gaze toward the basti. He would move a little, then a painful pressure, like someone squashing his eyes, forced him to look back.
I can’t look away.
Would you like me to blacken your vision temporarily?
Yes. For the god’s sake, just do it.
Abruptly, all was black, as if someone had pulled a thick sack over his head. Daric fell forward, banging his knees on the hard floor. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear talking. A man was asking someone a question. Then there was a crash. Had a window broken? He still could not see. Under his palms, he could feel the cold wood of the ballroom floor. A strong wind now pushed at his cloak. He could feel snow on his hands. Was he still inside?
I’ll have my eyes back, please, he told the lattice.
Are you sure?
Yes, and hurry up about it.
Someone removed the sack from his head, and he was staring down at his hands. Breen and the cat were still on the dais, but two of the guards were running toward him.
Daric leaned back and picked up one of the heavy plates off the table. Doing his best to focus, he threw the plate.
The guard laughed. “You missed,” he said.
“I wasn’t aiming for you,” Daric told him. Still a little dazed, Daric leaned to his left. The room was spinning. He could feel the table leg pressed against his ribs. Reaching up, he tried to steady himself, but looking up brought the spinning back.
As the guard turned toward the dais, Daric noticed the basti was shaking her head, sneezing. The plate had hit her in the face. Daric let out a short bark of laughter. How in all the hells had he managed to hit his target? He could barely see.
“Daric, get up!”
The voice came from behind. Daric felt a hand on his shoulder, then he was on his feet.
He saw them then. Swords drawn, the two guards lunged toward him.
Cal pushed Daric into the table, then, a chair suddenly in his hand, he attacked the first of the two guards. The guard flinched away, the chair missing him. But both were wary now. They stepped back, both sets of eyes fixed on the big Cren.
“Can you fight?” Cal asked Daric. “Grab one of those meat skewers.”
Daric backed away from the table. He could barely see the plates, never mind the thin skewers. Fumbling, he found one, then turned on his attackers.
“Leave these two to me,” Cal said. “Go help the others.”
It was then Daric heard the cries. All around the ballroom, folk were fighting. When had that happened? Had he been unconscious?
“More on the way,” Brin said. Brea’s father was suddenly at Daric’s right. He had a knife in his hand, likely stolen from the guard who was now unconscious at Brin’s feet. “Sounds like another dozen at least. We have to get out of here.”
Something flickered by Brin’s shoulder. Without conscious thought, Daric lunged, the skewer meeting resistance, then a popping sound Daric knew all too well. The guard he had stabbed in the chest looked down in consternation, unwilling to believe he was already dead. Daric pulled the skewer from the man’s heart and pushed him away. The dying guard crumbled, first to his knees, then onto his face. He shuddered a moment, then lay still.
“Thank you,” Brin said, his face suddenly pale.
“Just get to Mairi,” Daric said. His vision was clearing. He still felt dizzy, but at least he could see where he was going. “Get her out of here. Climb out the bloody window if you have to.”
Two more guards hesitated, glancing back and forth between Daric and the dead man. One swung his blade without conviction. He would attack or run. Daric waited, allowing Brin enough time to retreat and find Mairi.
Another guard, a small woman, was not nearly so hesitant. Fast as a cat, she pounced on Daric, blade flashing. Daric grabbed her arm, then grimaced as the woman
bit his wrist. The knife flashed, and Daric found himself stepping back from the tiny guard.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her.
The small woman huffed. “As if you could,” she said, and threw herself at him.
No sound, she thrust the blade toward Daric’s neck. Instincts alive with self-preservation, Daric deflected the blow and twisted the woman’s shoulder joint until she let out a high scream. She fell to her knees. Daric took her blade, then punched her hard at the back of her neck. She collapsed in a heap. Not dead, Daric hoped, but no longer in the fight.
“I’ll take the left,” someone said.
When Daric turned, he saw Ranyr holding most of a table at his shoulder as if it were a huge, square cudgel. Daric could have laughed at the sight of the priest, his face contorted in a fighter’s rage, but just then, the big doors were flung open and at least a dozen more guards flooded into the ballroom.
Daric forced his soldier’s mind the recognised their situation. Even were all his friends armed, they could not fight for long; sheer numbers would overwhelm them.
“Find another way out,” he told Ranyr. “I’ll hold them off. You find Brin and get my wife out of here.”
“You will hold them back?” Ranyr said. “On your own? That’s a little overly optimistic, don’t you think?”
Daric let his eyes wander over the ballroom. All was chaos: Gaiden was cornered by the basti, Cal was pinned in a corner by four guards, Brin was making his way toward Mairi, who was trying to free Odaman from his bonds, and Mags was stabbing ineffectually at a woman who was trying to force her out of the window. The gods alone knew where Aleria and the other legites were.
A scream brought his focus back to Mairi. Breen had her by the wrist. He was dragging her toward the concealed door he had used to enter the ballroom.
“Change of plan,” Daric told Ranyr. “You hold them back, I’m going after my wife.”
Daric ran for the concealed door, but suddenly his path was blocked by the big cat.
The basti dropped into a stalking stance, eyes fixed on Daric. She slowly padded forward, teeth bared and claws out. Daric glanced over her back, just in time to see Mairi disappear into the hidden passage.
The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One Page 39
