by Giles Carwyn
After those defenses fell there was only the Wheel. The last stand would be made there. The invaders could mount an attack from all sides. Their own lines couldn’t hold much longer than a day, a week at most. One way or another, Physendria would decimate them. It was only a matter of time.
Once again, Phandir had arrived with superior forces and taken what Krellis had held for a short time.
A Physendrian galley pulled slowly around the bay. It was difficult to see the ship even thirty feet out. It carried an announcer who shouted into the night, repeating the same message over and over again. He stood at the prow behind a wooden barrier bristling with arrows. A few of Krellis’s finest archers had shot the first announcer. They were more careful now.
“The loyal forces of your rightful king, Phandir III, son of the Phoenix, long may he reign, will attack at dawn,” the announcer bellowed across the distance. “Any who remain on this island to stand against him, man, woman, or child, will be executed. Any subjects loyal to the king who leave this island tonight will be spared. There are ships in the harbor to assist you if you swim. Any who leave the island will be spared.”
The announcer paused, then started again. “The loyal forces of your rightful king, Phandir III, son of the Phoenix, long may he reign, will attack at dawn…”
Krellis glanced down the line of rain-soaked defenders. None met his gaze. They all stared at the galley. Krellis wouldn’t be surprised if Phandir attacked in the night. Nothing was more demoralizing than having to await your doom in the cold and wet.
Krellis longed to meet his brother’s announcement with words of fire and steel, but he held his tongue. The time for speeches was past.
He turned and left the wall. Though the soldiers huddled deep into their cloaks, he left his shirt open at the chest, letting his heartstone remind them who he was.
Gorlym fell in step behind him. “There are three ships circling the island making the same offer,” Gorlym said as they walked.
Krellis grunted. “Are the men listening?”
“They are listening. No one has made a move yet, but it is early.”
“The lifelong Ohndariens won’t budge. You can be sure of that. They’ll die for their beloved city. But it isn’t them I’m worried about.”
“The soldiers.”
Krellis nodded. “These men weren’t born here. The jewel of the known world doesn’t glimmer quite so bright this evening. Why not serve Physendria instead of Ohndarien?” He waved a hand. “If we try to stop them, it will only be worse. If a man wants to run, he’ll find a way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course, if you catch any deserters, make a bloody public example of them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And spread a message through the officers. Tell them to remind the men that Phandir may spare their lives, but only long enough to sell them into slavery. Tell them there are twenty slave ships from Vizar waiting outside the Sunset Gate for that very purpose.”
Gorlym looked at him. “Is that true?”
“It could be.”
Gorlym paused long enough that Krellis shot him a glance. The former Master of the Citadel nodded. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“Yes. I need to know if you will still be here in the morning,” Krellis said, not looking at the man.
Gorlym paused. “Will you, sir?”
They walked in the rain for a while. Neither said a thing.
“You have your orders,” Krellis finally said.
“Yes, sir.” Gorlym left as they reached the brothel that Krellis had made into his temporary headquarters. The Scarlet Heart’s courtesans had not been happy about being rousted from their roost, but the brothel was comfortable, roomy, and most important, it had a view of the entire bay.
He thumped up the steps that snaked along the outside of the building to a second-floor landing. When he banged on the door, a short, stocky guard opened it. Relf was as ugly as a hog, but quicker and stronger than he looked. The man was as a damned good soldier, extremely competent and constantly underestimated by his foes. He stood aside immediately as soon as he saw Krellis. “The food you requested is on the table, sir.”
“Good.”
“The woman is awake, also. I heard her moving.”
“Thank you.”
The pig-faced man looked up at him, waiting for something. Krellis knew when one of his men needed a word of encouragement, but tonight he could not tell the soldier what he wanted to hear.
Krellis opened the first door on the left. The bed took up nearly a third of the room, but there was plenty more space for a writing desk, dressing table, and three wardrobes. Lavish, brocaded curtains hung over the windows. It was the madam’s own room, but the opulence was wasted on him. He’d chosen it for the view.
He strode past the open-air balcony to the bed. Baelandra slept soundly, her slender legs tucked up against her chest. Her wrist manacles were bolted to the stone wall behind the headboard. They’d had to cut a hole in the expensive rosewood. The madam would have a fit if she saw it, but she wasn’t likely to see the room ever again.
A small table next to the bed held a bowl of stew and a crystal decanter of wine. Working at the clasp at his neck, Krellis whipped off his cloak and threw it on the edge of the bed.
“I know you’re awake. There’s no point in pretending.”
Baelandra opened her eyes. She pulled the chain tight and slid closer to the headboard, farther away from him. Her green eyes watched him with cold fury.
“How long have I been here? How long have I been drugged?” she asked, her voice slow and rough.
“Three days,” Krellis said. He tugged at each finger of his glove, removed it, and started on the other one, then tossed them both on top of his cloak.
Baelandra’s nostrils flared. “Why?”
Krellis gave her a crooked smile. “You’ve been known to appear out of closets with knives in hand.”
She tried to keep her venomous gaze fixed on him, but he saw her glance at the steaming stew. He sat on the bed next to her, and she flinched away, scooted as far from him as her short chain would allow. He scooped up a spoonful of stew and tapped it against the side of the crockery bowl. After blowing on it, he raised the food to her mouth. She turned her head away.
“I’ve had enough of your sleeping powders.”
“If I’d wanted you drugged, you’d still be drugged.” He moved the spoon to her mouth again. She jerked her head the other way.
Krellis sighed.
“How long have Phandir’s troops been inside the city?” she asked.
“They breached the walls two days ago.”
“You’ve sold us all.”
He shook his head.
“Any word of Brophy?” she asked. “Has he returned?”
“No. There has been no word since the Kherif ship left for Physendria.”
“And Scythe?”
“He escaped.”
Her lip trembled and she flushed. “You killed him, didn’t you?” she whispered. “You bastard.”
“Why ask questions if you aren’t going to believe the answer?”
“Is there anything you say that I could possibly believe?”
“I doubt it.” He offered her the stew a third time. Baelandra shook her head.
“It’s not my manhood. Just barley stew. I know you’re hungry. Most Ohndariens will have a lot less to eat tonight.”
She waited a long moment. The spoonful had stopped steaming. Like a bird, she leaned forward and snatched a bite, chewing resolutely as she stared at him. He fed her spoonful after spoonful. She took them greedily and didn’t stop until the huge bowl was almost empty.
“Did you hear my brother’s offer? The one he is shouting across the bay?” he asked.
“I heard it. Is it a bluff?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Why attack? Our supplies are exhausted, and they’ve only had a few days to prepare.”
“Ohohhim ships r
ounded the point this evening.”
“In the storm?”
“They seem determined. I can only guess at their purpose. Perhaps they are coming to fulfill their bargain.” He sneered.
“You’ve heard nothing from them?”
“Not a word.”
“How many ships?” she asked.
“Two hundred.”
“Two hundred! By the Seasons, how many men do they have?”
“Like the stars in the sky.”
“Are they here to help us?”
“I would guess they plan to take Ohndarien for themselves.”
“If they are here to help us, how long do we have?” Baelandra asked.
He shrugged, reached for the decanter of wine, poured a glass, and lifted it to her lips. She shook her head, and he drank it himself.
“A day perhaps.”
“If they’ve rounded the point, they’ll be here by morning.” She pulled at her chains, frowned, brought her feet up underneath her.
He shook his head, filled the wineglass again. “No. While you were in the Citadel, Phandir filled the Narrows with huge log rafts. The Ohohhim can’t sail into the city until the logs are cleared. Or their forces will have to come over the logs like Phandir’s did. Still, my brother only has two days at the most. The Ohohhim will find a way to assault the gates. Phandir will want to finish us quickly so he can turn his attention to defending his new prize.”
“Then we have no chance?”
“Unless the Ohohhim take the city and give it right back to us.” He snorted. “No, we will be overrun in the first wave.”
“I see.” Lightning flashed outside. “And what are you going to do?”
He paused, held her gaze. “Escape through one of the tunnels leading out of the Heart. I’ve made arrangements with several officers in Faradan. They will smuggle me through the Quarry Gate.”
Her nostrils flared, and her lips pulled back in a sneer. He looked away.
Someone knocked at the door.
“What?” Krellis roared.
Relf spoke through the door. “Sir, there is a woman here to see you.”
“Tell her to wait,” Krellis growled.
Baelandra looked at him as though he was a roach. “Who is she? Your backup plan when I refuse to sleep with you?”
“Bae—”
“You have done many things I despise,” she spat, “but I never took you for a coward.”
“Baelandra…” Krellis said, his voice low. “I could take you with me. Just say the word.”
She laughed in his face.
He continued calmly. “I’m asking you to go with me. I…want you to go with me.”
She stared at him, slowly shaking her head. “How could you possibly think I would go with you?”
Krellis said nothing.
“You betrayed my nephew. You killed Scythe, the most loyal man I’ve known, who lived only for a kind word from me…” She choked, but her eyes were on fire. Clenching her teeth, she continued on. “You gave Ohndarien to Physendria. Tell me, my love.” She added cruel emphasis to the last word. “What do you have that I could possibly want?”
“I still love this city. I did what I thought was best for her.”
“Stripping her of her tradition, her dignity, the very things that make her beautiful and unique? And then fleeing as she is overrun by an army you enticed to fall on her?”
“I…” He hesitated. “My plans had a very different outcome.”
“Did they?”
“Yes. But I chose the wrong allies.”
Her mouth set in a line. “Yes. I am very familiar with that particular mistake.”
Lightning flashed, illuminating her hard features, her cold glance.
“Baelandra, don’t stay here. It’s pointless.”
“My heart belongs to Ohndarien,” she said, touching the stone in her chest. Krellis flinched. “I live and die with her.”
He looked away, fought for his voice, and it came out dark and husky. “At least let me give you your life. Do something with it. Save yourself for revenge if you must.”
“Revenge is your obsession, not mine.”
“Why live if not for revenge?” he shouted suddenly. “Phandir will pay for this day. He will pay dearly!”
Baelandra closed her eyes. “What’s the point in killing a man if he has already destroyed everything that you love?”
Krellis swallowed, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He stared at the woman chained to the wall. “Do you still love me?” he asked.
“I should ask you the same,” she said. “Or more important, did you ever love me?”
“By the gods,” he murmured. “Would I have let you leave my chambers alive with that poison dagger in your hair if I didn’t love you? Would I have tolerated you and the Sisters in the Heart? Would I have sent Shara to save Brophy—”
“He wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t betrayed him in the first place.”
Krellis clenched his fists. “I regret that,” he said. “Trent’s death made me…” He struggled for the words. “I wanted to stop loving you, but I couldn’t.”
Bae closed her eyes. Her jaw muscles clenched. “Then stay,” she whispered. “Fight with us. Do not let Phandir take this city while there is breath in your body. Your heart is bound to this place. You passed the Test when no one, not even I, thought you could. There was a reason for that.”
He shook his head. “I passed the Test because of my brother’s magic. Nothing more, nothing less. The influence of a Zelani.”
“No. The Heartstone cannot be fooled. You have a purpose here.”
He looked out the window at the thousands of torches on the far shore. There was no way to win this fight. He would not let his death become a grand and wasted gesture. He was not meant for that. “Not anymore.”
He stood. “You have made your choice then?”
“There is no other choice I can make.”
“I see.”
He left her on the bed and strode to the door. She rattled her chains as he touched the handle.
“Krellis, I beg you. Don’t leave me chained like a dog. For the love you claim you bear me, set me free.”
He turned slowly, his brows furrowed. “Sorry, my love. You are a dangerous woman and always will be.” He left the room.
“Krellis!” she called as the door shut. “Krellis!” she screamed again, her rage muted by the thick wood.
“The woman is waiting inside,” Relf said, pointing to the room at the end of the hall.
Krellis ignored him and stepped into the closest room, slamming the door behind him.
With a roar, he grabbed the full-sized table and threw it against the wall. A vase shattered on the floor. He flipped the bed over, grabbed a chair, and smashed it against a chest of drawers.
“Sir, are you all right?” Relf asked through a crack in the door.
Krellis threw the broken chair against the door. “Leave me be!” he shouted.
The guard snapped the door shut, and Krellis was left alone, clenching his fists so hard his fingernails bit into his palms. He stood like that until his ragged breathing slowly came under control. Picking up a broken table leg, Krellis twisted it in his hands and snapped it in two. He let the pieces clatter to the floor.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the corridor again. Relf watched him with wide eyes.
“Who is she?” Krellis asked.
“I…I don’t know, sir. She had this.” He handed a piece of paper to Krellis. It bore Gorlym’s seal. Krellis’s brow furrowed. Without another word, he walked through the door at the end of the hall and shut it behind him.
The woman stood at the balcony, covered by a full cloak and cowl. As she heard the door shut, she turned, pushed back her hood.
Krellis’s eyes widened. He laughed, though he wasn’t sure why. “By the gods…” he said.
“Isn’t the phrase ‘By the Seasons’ in Ohndarien?” she asked.
“I’m spe
echless,” he said, inclining his head toward her.
“You say that as if it is a rare thing. I remember how very little you talked the last time I saw you.” She looked him up and down. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“Leaving Physendria has been good for me.”
“Perhaps I should have done it years ago,” she said.
“Perhaps you should.”
He watched her closely, wondering what had caused this unbelievable meeting. Her breathing was too fast, and her eyes kept darting to the door.
Krellis scanned the room. Had she brought assassins? Was she the assassin? She had obviously convinced Gorlym to trust her. Or perhaps Gorlym wanted him dead now.
“Did my brother send you?”
“No. I came on my own.”
“You take your life in your hands. If Phandir found out—”
“I don’t have much to lose,” she said. Her voice was odd, resigned. He remembered her very differently. Vivacious, daring, spirited, cunning. She was the only one who could effectively banter with Phandir.
“It seems to me that the Queen of Physendria has a great deal to lose.”
“You’ve obviously never been a queen,” Ossamyr said.
“No. A king once, but never a queen.” His mouth crooked in a smile.
“I came to ask a question. Will you answer me?”
Krellis fought to put the pieces together. What could her game be? He could imagine King Phandir standing in this room much more easily than his wife.
“I would be honored.” He played along, thinking quickly of what he might ask in return.
“Is Brophy here? Has he returned?”
“What?”
“He is Baelandra’s—”
“I know who he is, Ossamyr. I exiled the boy.” He laughed again. “Surely that Kher did not have the truth of it. You’re not smitten?”
Her chin lifted. “I owe a debt. Is he here?”
“Last I heard, he was in your Wet Cells.”
“He escaped.”
