“Which brings us to how he’s going to manage to lead his troops into battle if he’s locked himself in his room, sulking.”
“He needs your uncle’s suit of armour,” Kraig suggested.
They all looked at the Denikan. “What are you talking about?”
“The first day I went to meet him, your uncle was parading around in a jewelled suit of armour; one—as you so rightly pointed out—that could be recognised anywhere, even on a battlefield.”
“But what use is the High Prince’s armour?” Tejay asked.
“This pass that is now blocked … its closure means you now have a fighting chance of winning this war, yes?”
“Yes,” Damin agreed warily.
“Then the man responsible for its closure should be rewarded.”
“The Halfbreed?” Rorin asked in confusion.
Kraig shook his head. “If the story gets about it was Terin Lionsclaw who blocked the pass, it would not be unremarkable for the High Prince to reward such bravery, would it?”
“And if he rewarded him with a unique and conspicuously gaudy suit of armour …” Damin mused.
“Huh?” Rorin said, looking at the two princes. “I don’t get it.”
Tejay smiled in understanding. “What they mean, Rorin, is that if the High Prince rewards Terin’s bravery with a suit of armour so distinctive that every man in Hythria knows who owns it, they’ll also assume it’s him wearing it in battle, too.”
The sorcerer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “One problem though, my lady … how does the High Prince present a reward to someone who isn’t actually here?”
Damin glanced at Tejay. “That’s a good point.”
“How well does the High Prince know your husband?” Kraig asked.
“They’ve met a few times. Terin didn’t like Greenharbour much so we didn’t go there often. Not unless we really had to. Why?”
“Prince Damin introduced me to the High Prince recently, claiming I was a slave. Only a few months before that, we met in Greenharbour where I was introduced as a prince. The man made no connection between the two events because he wasn’t expecting it. If you hold the ceremony in private, present him with someone who looks something like your husband and acts as if the man truly is a Warlord, I suspect your High Prince will accept whatever you tell him without question.”
Tejay looked to Damin. Nobody knew Lernen better. He would know if such a ruse were possible. After a long silence, Damin shrugged. “It might work.”
“Does this mean I get to do something about Renulus?” Rorin asked hopefully.
Tejay looked to Damin before she answered. It was up to him. Without his support, this clever plan wasn’t even a slim probability.
Damin studied her carefully for a long moment. “Can you do this, Tejay?”
“I should slap you for even asking.”
“You know what I mean.”
She nodded. “I have four sons to keep safe, Damin. Even if I didn’t give a wooden rivet about your problems with the Patriots, and the Fardohnyans, I wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardise their future.”
“You mean if there was any man in Hythria you considered as good as you, you’d let him have your province?”
She grinned suddenly. “Well, as there probably isn’t any man in Hythria as good as me, that’s not really the issue, is it?”
“You lose this battle on me, Tejay, and you’ll be wishing you died in it.”
“You’re all talk, Damin …” she sighed dismissively, privately delighted at her unexpected victory, as she turned to face Rorin. “And just how do you intend to get rid of Renulus, my lad? Kill him?”
The young man frowned. “I’m not a killer, my lady. I don’t know if I could kill someone, even if I tried. But I do know how to get rid of Renulus.”
“How?” Damin asked curiously.
“He’s a devoted Karien, a follower of the Overlord. I’m a wicked part-Harshini sorcerer. It’s simple,” the young man explained. “I’ll just draw on the source and show him my evil black eyes. That’ll scare the living daylights out of him.”
“You mean show him what you are?” Damin asked, a little concerned. “Is that a good idea?’
“Why is it a bad one?”
“Well … I kind of like the idea of having a sorcerer as my secret weapon against the Fardohnyans. Sort of ruins it if you start going around flashing your big evil black eyes at all and sundry.”
Rorin was adamant. “Trust me, if he thinks the wicked Harshini are still among us, Renulus will scuttle back to Karien so fast wanting to let his precious priesthood know about it, you won’t see him for the dust.”
“Won’t that just bring the wrath of the Kariens down on us?”
“Possibly,” Rorin agreed. “But they’d have to go through Medalon first to get here. You’d have years before it’s a problem.”
“Oh, well that’s all right then,” Damin replied sourly.
Tejay, on the other hand, was quite impressed with Rorin’s solution. He seemed to have a knack for coming up with solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems that didn’t involve bloodshed. She was becoming rather fond of the young sorcerer for that. “Rorin’s right, Damin, and I don’t think Renulus will be a problem, either, provided we convince him to leave.”
Damin didn’t seem convinced. “It’d be easier to just kill him.”
Tejay sighed. She loved Damin like a brother and he’d just given her an unheard-of opportunity, one she never thought she’d have in a thousand lifetimes, but that didn’t alter the fact that in some things—somewhat like her late and unlamented husband—he was such a boy. “You see, that’s why they shouldn’t let men rule the world, Damin. You just want to kill things.”
Her comment produced puzzled looks from both Damin and Kraig. “What’s wrong with that?” Damin asked, with a wounded look.
“When you work that out, my dears,” she told them, “there really might be a man in this world who can measure up to me, after all.”
CHAPTER 49
Taking care of Renulus was something that couldn’t wait. Very few people in Cabradell knew Rorin was back, or that he had returned alone, and something had to be done about the Karien seneschal before he realised his Warlord was missing and started making a fuss about it.
As he hurried along the covered walkway to the Karien’s room, Rorin wished he was as confident of scaring off Renulus as he’d assured Damin and Lady Tejay he was. It had sounded great in theory, but as he neared the man’s room his confidence began to waver. Three pillars away from Renulus’s door, he stopped completely, torn with indecision.
Suppose it doesn’t work? Suppose Renulus just laughs at me? The torch by his head spluttered and hissed as he fretted, the silence complete except for his racing heart and his chaotic, panicked thoughts. Suppose I just …
“Is there a problem?”
“Agghhh!” Rorin exclaimed, jumping with fright. He turned to find the big dark Denikan court’esa standing behind him. “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
“Sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death.”
“Is it not your intention to scare the Karien half to death?”
“Well … yes.”
“Then you should try to calm yourself, sorcerer,” he suggested. “Scaring a man enough to make him run away requires your victim to be more frightened than you are.”
“Oh, that was very droll,” Rorin replied, annoyed the Denikan could see through him so easily. Rorin squared his shoulders manfully, as if he was in no doubt about his purpose. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I thought you might want some help.” Kraig shrugged, and then added with a perfectly straight face, “Scaring people.”
Rorin studied him curiously. “Are you really a Denikan prince?”
“Don’t I look like one?”
“You look like a slave,” Rorin told him. “A really, really big slave, granted, but a slave, nonetheless. It’s probab
ly the slave collar. Sort of gives that impression.”
“You judge me only by what I wear?”
“Don’t you judge people by what they wear?”
The Denikan nodded. “I must admit, I do on occasion. Like now, for instance.”
“Now?”
“You stand before the door of a man you are hoping to intimidate, Master Mariner, dressed like a farm boy headed for a night on the town. Where are your robes, sorcerer? Your badge of office?”
“Ah,” Rorin said, thinking Kraig might have a point. “Perhaps I should get changed first.”
“There is no time,” Kraig replied. “This Karien might be minutes away from learning you have returned without his Warlord. There is not a moment to waste. You work your fearful magic, sorcerer. I will take care of the intimidation.”
Rorin warily eyed the big Denikan up and down. “I believe you will, Kraig. Does Damin know you’re here?”
“He is engaged in … diplomatic negotiations … with my companion, Lyrian. I thought it best not to disturb him.”
“Will he mind?”
“Only if someone comes along and finds us standing here openly discussing the very thing he wishes to remain secret.”
“Good point,” Rorin agreed, turning to look at Renulus’s door. “Do you think we should knock?”
The Denikan walked up to Renulus’s door, calmly raised his booted foot and kicked the door, splintering the wood around the lock with an ear-splitting crack.
“I think he now knows he has visitors,” the slave-prince remarked, as he stood back to let Rorin enter.
Rorin stared at the Denikan and then the shattered door, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to explain that to Lady Lionsclaw, you know.”
That threat didn’t seem to worry Kraig. “Call up your magic, sorcerer,” he commanded. “You have work to do.”
Not surprisingly, Renulus leapt out of bed when Kraig so rudely opened the door with his boot, spluttering angrily at the intrusion.
“What is the meaning of this?” Renulus demanded, striking a flint with shaking hands to light the room. As soon as it was lit, the Karien held up his candle and squinted at them. “What do you want?”
Rorin entered with a commanding stride, thinking the man looked vaguely ridiculous in his nightshirt.
“You and I need to have a chat,” Rorin said, opening himself up to the source. He felt the magic infuse his body, knew his eyes were darkening as he spoke, simply from the horrified expression that slowly crept over the Karien’s face as he watched the change happen.
“Demon!” the man gasped, taking a step backwards. He put the candlestick on the night table and made some symbol with his hands, no doubt trying to ward off evil spirits, or some such thing.
“Don’t be stupid. I look nothing like a demon.”
“You are one of them!” He kept backing away until he was pushed up against the bed.
“One of what?”
“An evil creature of the night!”
Rorin grinned, unable to maintain his menacing expression in the face of such an absurd accusation. But he hurriedly pushed the smile away. He was here to intimidate this man.
“Harshini mongrel!” the Karien spat, trying to back away from him even further, but with the bed at his back, all it did was land him on his behind on the mattress. Renulus glanced around, as if searching for something to use as a weapon, and then glared at Rorin with contempt when he couldn’t find one. “You are an abomination. Just like the Halfbreed. A mixed-blood sin against the Overlord.”
Rorin was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Nobody had ever accused him of anything nearly so illustrious before. To be put in the same class as Brakandaran was a compliment he never expected. Not that the Karien meant it as a compliment, of course. But it was hard not to smile, and right now, Rorin’s job was to do something about removing this fool from the palace. Still … fully aware he was probably the least powerful sorcerer alive, it was nice to think somebody thought he was dangerous.
“Abomination I may be,” he snarled impressively, advancing on the terrified Karien. “But right now, I’m your worst nightmare come to life. Any particular preference for the way you’d like to die?”
“You can’t harm me, sorcerer!”
Rorin did smile this time and held out his arm, mostly for dramatic effect, and the Karien began to rise from the floor. With a screech of despair, Renulus flailed around like a speared fish as he drifted up towards the ceiling.
“What do you think, Kraig?” Rorin asked the slave, who’d stood behind him silently, watching the exchange. “Should I kill this Karien worm here or let him run home to his Overlord and tell his priests the Harshini are still among us?”
“If you kill him here,” Kraig pointed out, “you will have to explain the blood on the rug as well as the broken lock to Lady Lionsclaw.”
“True,” Rorin agreed, holding Renulus by the rafters with casual disinterest as he discussed the problem with his companion. “But strictly speaking, you’re the one who has to explain the broken lock. I don’t think she’d mind the blood so much. Not if it was his.”
“You may be right, Master Mariner,” Kraig agreed. “Of course, you could hold him up there while I fetch a towel.”
“Let me down!” Renulus screeched. “When Lord Lionsclaw hears of this …”
“Sadly, Renulus, Lord Lionsclaw had a change of heart about you, while he was away,” Rorin informed the seneschal. “He’s decided you’re not worth feeding any more, but he didn’t really have the heart to tell you your services were no longer required. Now Kraig here, he volunteered to break your neck—to save Terin the trouble of dismissing you—but I thought it would be more fun to just throw you around the room a bit until you offered to resign.” He sighed regretfully. “But now … I fear Lord Lionsclaw was right. You’re never going to accept your dismissal gracefully and leave the palace without a fuss, are you? I suppose we’re going to have to kill you, after all.”
The Karien was pretty sure of himself. Even suspended in midair, he still managed to sound superior. “I don’t believe you! Lord Lionsclaw would never dismiss me! And when he hears about this, I’ll make certain you suffer torment beyond description before you die, you Harshini gutter-scum.”
Rorin stared up at him with his black-on-black eyes, guessing his gaze alone was almost enough to unman a Karien fearful for his soul. “You’re not really in a position to threaten me with anything.” Just to make his point, he let the man drop sharply. It was only a few feet, but it was enough to make the Karien break into a sweat. “Any luck finding a towel yet, Kraig?”
“No!” Renulus screeched as he dropped. “Wait! I’ll go!”
Rorin looked at Kraig in surprise and then stared up at Renulus. “You will?”
He nodded vigorously. “Let me down. I’ll leave the palace. I swear. You’re right … it’s more important I inform my people that an abomination such as you still walks the land, than staying here helping some fool of a Hythrun run a province that’s about to be overrun by the Fardohnyans, in any case.”
His capitulation was far too quick to be genuine, but it was costing Rorin more effort than he was willing to let on to hold Renulus against the ceiling and maintain a normal conversation. He let the man drop, breathing a sigh of relief.
Renulus landed heavily, and then pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Get up.”
Painfully, the Karien did as Rorin ordered, climbing to his feet.
“You’ve got about a minute to gather your things before we escort you out of Cabradell.”
Suspiciously acquiescent, Renulus hurried to the long trunk at the foot of his bed and dropped to his knees after he opened it. He tossed a few garments aside and then reached in for something at the bottom.
A moment later he rose to his feet, all sign of his previous subservience gone. In his hand he held a staff, a black metal shaft topped by golden star int
ersected with a silver lightning bolt and embedded with crystals, including a large one set in the centre. He held it out in front of himself, as if it was a shield.
Rorin hesitated. The sight of the staff dragged another one of those seemingly endless snippets of information that Shananara had planted in his mind to the surface. Instinctively, he knew he couldn’t touch it without pain. He just didn’t understand why.
“Nice little trinket you’ve got there,” Rorin observed, eyeing the staff warily as the Harshini memories flooded through him. “Not something you see every day. At least, not outside of a Karien temple devoted to Xaphista the Overlord.”
“Touch me again with your heathen sorcery and you will die!” Renulus announced, holding the staff out before him.
Rorin wasn’t entirely certain Renulus was bluffing. He knew what the staff was, although he’d never expected to see one in his lifetime. He also knew only a priest of Xaphista would be carrying such a weapon. The question of what a Karien priest was doing acting as an adviser to a Hythrun Warlord put a whole different light on the situation.
“Kraig, can you get that thing off him?” he asked, studying the staff cautiously.
“If you wish it.”
“Believe me, I wish it.”
Without hesitating, the Denikan moved towards Renulus, but he was quicker than either Kraig or Rorin anticipated. The Karien thrust the staff forward before Rorin could dodge it, connecting with his shoulder.
In agony, Rorin screamed and dropped to his knees as if he’d been branded with a white-hot sword. An instant later, Kraig was on the priest. He tore the staff from Renulus’s hands, and then swung it upwards, connecting with the older man’s chin. The Karien’s head snapped backward sharply, and he fell back against the trunk, dazed and limp. The big Denikan tossed the staff aside and took Renulus by the throat.
“Don’t … don’t kill him …” Rorin gasped from the floor.
“Why not?”
The pain scorching through Rorin was indescribable. His shoulder burned like someone had poured acid on his bare skin. The Harshini magic he was channelling, normally so sweet, burned through his veins as if it had been set on fire. “He’s … a Karien … priest.”
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