Warlord

by Jennifer Fallon

  “No,” Marla agreed. “But I can have that slimy little sightless ground-slug, Tarkyn Lye, taken care of any time I want. In fact I’ve already arranged it with the Assassins’ Guild.”

  “And then what? If something happens to Tarkyn Lye, isn’t she going to suspect it was you behind the attack?”

  “That doesn’t bother me.”

  “She’ll retaliate.”

  “Also a given,” Marla agreed. “Our job is to find a way to see that whatever Alija does, it discredits her, rather than bolsters her cause.”

  Kalan stood up and walked to the window to look down over the garden. “She couldn’t have picked a worse time. We’re about to be invaded. How are we going to get the troops belonging to the provinces under the Sorcerers’ Collective control to the border if Alija’s out for vengeance? Then there’s the risk she’ll see this as an opportunity to finally be rid of Damin. If he’s killed in battle, she can hardly be blamed for it.”

  “Unless his death is a direct result of her failure to send the troops Hythria needs to defend itself,” Marla pointed out. “But you’re right, of course. We need the Collective supporting the throne, not actively working against it. Which brings up another issue. What do you think of Damin’s plan?”

  Kalan glanced over her shoulder at her mother. “The one that has him leading our armies to war or the one that lowers the age of majority?”

  “Both.”

  She shrugged and sat down on the window seat. “The first one’s easy, Mother. Damin’s trained for this all his life. He’ll make a fine general.”

  “And reducing the age of majority?”

  “That’s the one that really surprises me,” Kalan admitted. “I never thought my brother smart enough to come up with an idea like that on his own. But then, as Wrayan pointed out to me last night, I’m compiling a fairly impressive list of people I’ve misjudged lately.”

  “From what Wrayan tells me, your brother comported himself with remarkable restraint after Leila died.”

  Kalan seemed amused at the assessment. “Remarkable is a good word. The man who was bossing everybody around in Krakandar wasn’t the Damin I know.”

  “Then I’ll speak to Lernen about it. Hopefully, there won’t be a problem getting him to agree to either suggestion.”

  “Do you think he’ll object?” Kalan asked in surprise. “I was under the impression Uncle Lernen signed anything you put in front of him.”

  “Ah, the good old days,” Marla sighed wistfully, leaning back in her chair. “Your uncle is a sick man, Kalan. The gods alone know how he avoided falling victim to the plague. But along with the sores and infections he suffers comes a level of paranoia that is truly frightening to behold.”

  “What do you mean? Is he insane?”

  “That’s something I’ve been trying to decide for twenty-five years.” Marla shrugged. “This is more like unreasonable fear. He thinks everyone’s out to get him.”

  Kalan chuckled softly. “Well, if you think about it, Mother, he’s not that far off the mark. A lot of people are out to get him.”

  Marla frowned. “I’d probably find humour in the situation too, if his delusions didn’t include even me, on occasion.”

  Kalan rose to her feet. “Did you want me to come along? Maybe, if I was there to support you … ?”

  Marla shook her head. “If he’s in one of his moods, it will just convince him we’re ganging up on him. No, I’ll speak to him and we’ll get Damin the command he needs. And the authority to use it. After that, we’ll just have to leave the fate of Hythria in your brother’s hands for a while, because you and I, Kalan, will be too busy destroying Alija Eaglespike to worry about it.”

  When Marla arrived at the palace the following day, Corian Burl was waiting for her. The old chamberlain bowed as deeply as his weary bones would allow and smiled at the princess as she entered the palace. “You’re early today, your highness.”

  “I wanted to see my brother before he gets too engrossed in his latest entertainment,” Marla explained as she walked across the tiled great hall toward her office with the chamberlain at her side. “What is he currently occupied with? Or would I be better off not knowing?”

  The old man shrugged. “Surprisingly, his highness’s amusements have been quite dull of late, madam. He has decided the garden on the roof of the west wing contains too many advantageous places of concealment for assassins. He actually hasn’t left his room for the past three days. He informs me he’s officially in hiding.”

  Marla sighed. “Perhaps I should go and speak to him first.”

  “That might be a good idea, your highness. He’s been asking where you are.”

  Marla turned for the stairs, wondering what sort of mood she’d find her brother in. The news he’d been hiding from assassins for the past three days wasn’t good. It meant he was probably in the full throes of a paranoia attack, which, if it was bad enough, might mean he feared his only sister had turned on him as well. If that was the case, Marla knew she would get nothing useful done until he was over it.

  When she arrived outside the magnificent doors of the High Prince’s suite with its gilded wolf’s head escutcheon, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and then motioned the guards on duty to admit her. The soldiers did so without question. Inside, the suite was dark, the heavy drapes drawn and the candles extinguished. When the guards closed the doors behind her she could hardly see anything at all.

  “Lernen?”

  There was no answer. The rooms smelled musty. In Greenharbour’s humid climate, it was never a good idea to seal rooms up like this. They needed fresh air and light or, before you knew it, there were things growing off the walls. She walked to the window and threw back the drapes before opening the windows to let in some air.

  “Lernen? It’s me, Marla!”

  “Are you alone?”

  She looked around, wondering where he was hiding.

  “Yes, dearest. I’m alone.”

  “They’re gone then?” the disembodied voice asked fearfully.

  “Who?” she asked, walking toward the sofa.

  “The assassins the Patriots sent after me. Are they gone?”

  “There’s nobody in the palace who looks anything like an assassin,” she assured him. Marla knelt on the seat of the sofa and looked over the back. Hythria’s High Prince was curled into a foetal position on the floor behind the couch. “They’re all gone, Lernen. You can come out now.”

  Hesitantly, her brother pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and looked up at her. “Are you sure?”

  “I made it here alive,” Marla pointed out.

  That seemed to satisfy the old man. He climbed painfully to his feet. “You’re very brave to roam the halls of the palace alone, Marla. They’re everywhere, you know.”

  She patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ve had Corian Burl order a sweep of the palace. They’ll find any assassins lurking around and have them killed.”

  “Bah!” he spat. “Corian Burl is probably one of them.”

  “Then I’ll have him killed too,” she promised. “Come sit by me, dearest. We need to talk.”

  Lernen walked around the sofa and took a seat beside her. He wore only a thin loose shirt that he obviously hadn’t changed in days, his spindly legs bare and grubby underneath it. When he got like this, even the slave boys he normally surrounded himself with were banished from his presence. Because of that, he hadn’t bathed for some time, either, she guessed, steeling herself against the smell of his unwashed body. The High Prince of Hythria was apparently incapable of taking a bath without a score of attendants to help him.

  Lernen sat himself down beside her. “Have you news for me?” he asked hopefully. “Good news?”

  Marla wasn’t sure what her brother considered good news, but it certainly wasn’t what she’d come to deliver. She shook her head. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. I bring the saddest news of all. Leila Damaran is dead.”

  “Little Leila?” Lernen gasped. �
��Mahkas Damaran’s girl? She’s quite the sweetest creature I ever met. Was it Patriot assassins?”

  “She took her own life when her father wouldn’t let her marry the man she loved.”

  “Why, that’s appalling!” the High Prince declared. “Did you want me to order Mahkas killed?” He leant forward and added in a low voice, “I can do that, you know. I’m the High Prince.”

  Marla nodded solemnly. “I think Damin would like to take care of it himself.”

  At the mention of his heir, Lernen smiled proudly. “He’d do it, too, that boy. Will he kill him very slowly, do you think?”

  “He can’t afford to, Lernen. If Mahkas dies before Damin comes of age, then Krakandar Province will fall under the protection of the Sorcerers’ Collective and that would mean handing it to the Patriots. Of course … if he was of age already …”

  “Then we must do something!” Lernen insisted, his fear of the Patriots apparently the order of the day. Tomorrow he might be frightened just as easily by a teapot. “We can’t let something like this go unavenged.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, brother, but unless you did something like lowering the age of majority to twenty-five so if Mahkas dies, Damin can inherit Krakandar immediately,” she sighed mournfully, “I don’t see how we can risk doing anything at all.”

  He looked at her curiously. “Lower the age of majority? Can I do that?”

  “You are the High Prince,” she reminded him.

  He slapped the sofa cushions determinedly. “Then we’ll have to lower the age of majority, by the gods! Damin must be free to take vengeance! Leila’s death deserves nothing less.”

  “I’m so glad you thought of doing such a brave thing, Lernen,” Marla told him, squeezing his hand affectionately. “I’d never have come up with such an inspired solution on my own. And I promise, Damin won’t—”

  “Damin won’t what?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “I was going to say he won’t let you down,” Marla assured him, patting his hand comfortingly.

  “No, you weren’t!” the High Prince accused, snatching his hand away. “You were going to say something else! This is a plot, isn’t it? If I lower the age of majority, he’ll be able to take my throne!”

  “Your throne is perfectly safe, Lernen,” she assured him, wishing she could slap her brother for being such a fool. It would only make matters worse, she knew, but it was so very tempting … “Very well,” she conceded, knowing the more she pushed on the subject, the more likely he was to dig his heels in. She took a deep breath. “Forget the age of majority. Why not keep Damin too busy to threaten you, Lernen? Give him something to keep him occupied and out of your hair until he does come of age.”

  “Keep him busy how?”

  “I don’t know … perhaps a role in the military … something to let him know how much you appreciate his loyalty, along with too much responsibility to leave him any time to plot against you.”

  “Damin would never plot against me!” Lernen exclaimed, in a complete reversal of his position of a moment ago. “The boy dotes on me. You’ve told me that any number of times.”

  “And he does, dearest,” Marla assured him hurriedly. “But isn’t it nice to do something unexpected for those we love, every now and then. Just because we can?”

  “I suppose.” Lernen shrugged. “But what role could I give him?”

  “Hmmm …” Marla said, as if trying to think of something suitable. “Why not Lord Admiral of Hythria’s Navy?”

  “We don’t really have a navy,” Lernen pointed out with a frown. Then he brightened suddenly. “I know! What about Lord of the Northern Marshes? That would keep him out of my hair in the north, wouldn’t it?”

  “You awarded him that title when he turned eighteen,” Marla said. “And it’s a meaningless one, dear. There’s nobody to fight in the Northern Marshes.”

  “Ah … well, what about … Lord Commander of Hythria’s Army?”

  Marla thought about it for a moment. “I suppose. Although unless you were to call up the combined armies of Hythria—which hasn’t happened in a millennium—it’s rather an empty title, and it wouldn’t give him that much to do.”

  Lernen patted her hand and winked at her. “Empty titles are always the best ones to hand out as gestures, Marla. Can’t have the boy getting too full of himself now, can we? He’ll be busy enough, I think. They have lots of parades.”

  “Of course,” Marla agreed, rising to her feet. “You’re very wise, brother. I shall have the papers drawn up immediately and you can sign them this afternoon. Shall I send someone in to run your bath?”

  Before he could answer, the door flew open and Alija strode into the room, followed by Corian Burl (objecting loudly to the intrusion) and the two soldiers who were supposed to be guarding the door outside. The men seemed unsure if their duties included manhandling the High Arrion to prevent her entering the High Prince’s chambers.

  Lernen squealed like a girl when he saw Alija and hid behind Marla, who had jumped to her feet when they were disturbed.

  “She’s one of them!” Lernen screeched, pointing at Alija. “Kill her! Kill her now!”

  For a precious moment Marla hesitated, wishing the guards would do as her brother ordered, but they weren’t about to cut down a woman in cold blood, particularly not the High Arrion of the Sorcerers’ Collective.

  “Belay that,” Marla sighed, making no attempt to disguise the reluctance in her voice. “And leave us.”

  Bowing as they backed out of the room and looking more than a little concerned, Corian Burl and the two guards closed the doors behind them.

  Alija glared at her. “Smart move, Marla.”

  That’s debatable, Marla replied silently.

  “What’s she doing here?” Lernen demanded, tugging on Marla’s skirt. “She’s a Patriot. She’s one of them. She’s the one who sent the assassins after me.”

  Alija rolled her eyes impatiently. “For the gods’ sake, Lernen, if I wanted you dead, I’d have done it long before now. As it happens, I’m here to report on some disturbing news about your nephew.”

  Marla’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Which nephew?”

  “Why our precious heir, of course,” Alija replied. “I have news that he’s in Cabradell with an army, preparing to invade Fardohnya.”

  “Are we invading Fardohnya, Marla?” Lernen asked.

  “It’s more like he’s protecting us from the Fardohnyans, dearest,” Marla told her brother soothingly, wishing she hadn’t so hastily belayed that order to kill Alija.

  “Then the rumours I’ve heard about Hablet gathering his army over the border are true?” Alija enquired. She directed the question to Lernen but she was looking straight at Marla. “We face an invasion from Fardohnya and all we have to protect us is a handful of cattle thieves led by an inexperienced boy not yet come of age?”

  “That’s all right. I’ve taken care of that,” Lernen announced.

  Marla could have cheerfully throttled him. Even though Lernen had refused her request today, he might just as easily grant it tomorrow. If Alija learned of her plans to lower the age of majority before Lernen signed the decree, Marla was sure she’d find a way to talk him out of it. In her own way, Alija was just as proficient at playing on Lernen’s fears as Marla.

  “Taken care of what?”

  “Damin,” Lernen told her. “Him being too young. Found a way to keep him busy. I’m giving him a new title. Lord Commander of Hythria’s Army.”

  Alija glared at Marla as she realised the magnitude of Lernen’s gift (even if he didn’t) and then smiled sweetly at Lernen. “That’s remarkably generous of you, your highness. There aren’t many sovereigns who would pass up an opportunity for fame and glory in favour of their heir.”

  Lernen stared at her, obviously puzzled. “Fame and glory?”

  “I would have expected you to lead Hythria’s combined forces, your highness. It was very courageous of you to award your nephew the honour.”


  “Me? Lead a real army?”

  “Naturally. I mean, isn’t that why we have a High Prince?”

  To Marla’s horror, she realised her brother was seriously contemplating the idea.

  “You have matters of state to attend to here in Greenharbour,” she reminded him. “We don’t even know if there’s an invasion coming. Let Damin play with his soldiers in Cabradell while you remain here, Lernen. Keeping us safe from the Patriots,” she added, staring pointedly at Alija.

  “Marla!” Alija exclaimed, quick as a rodent. “It’s not like you to be so selfish. Surely you can muddle through with things here in the palace while our High Prince is fulfilling his sacred role as Hythria’s defender?”

  “She has a point, Marla,” Lernen mused. “That is my role, you know. Hythria’s defender.”

  Marla stared at her brother, standing there with his grubby shirt and his skinny legs. The gods help us, she thought, if you’re defending Hythria.

  “You will need to call up the reserves of all the provinces to defend us, your highness,” Alija reminded him, ignoring Marla completely. “With so many under the control of the Sorcerers’ Collective, it is my duty as High Arrion to provide the throne with the support it needs to defeat this threat, and while I have no doubts about your ability to lead our forces into war, sire … I’d be reluctant to do the same if I thought command of our forces was in the hands of an inexperienced boy.”

  You conniving bitch! Marla wanted to shout, as she saw what Alija was doing. By refusing to release the troops under the Sorcerers’ Collective’s command unless Lernen led the army, she was making it his fault if Hythria fell to the Fardohnyans. And forcing Marla’s hand. There was almost no chance Lernen was going to be able to deny Alija now.

  “You are needed here in Greenharbour, Lernen,” Marla insisted, even though she knew she was fighting a losing battle. “This city has been devastated by the plague. If you leave now, people might think you’ve abandoned them in their hour of need.”

  “Of course, if he left now, the chances of our beloved High Prince catching the plague would be significantly reduced,” Alija pointed out, strengthening her hand by playing on Lernen’s fear of the deadly disease. “As for people thinking he’s abandoned them, Marla … you’d be better served wondering what people will say about Lernen Wolfblade when Hablet of Fardohnya is sitting on Hythria’s throne.”