Borric nodded. “We’ll wait.”
Locklear sensed movement before he heard anything. He sat up and his eyes sought out some hint of what had brought him out of his doze. Princess Sojiana lay sleeping soundly next to him. Their lovemaking had been passionate and protracted; in the Princess, Locklear had finally met his match.
Then he saw it, a dark shape in the gloom. “Who’s there?” he asked, not keeping his voice down. The Princess stirred, then awakened.
From out of the murk shapes appeared. Locklear moved quickly, knowing something was wrong. He swung his legs over the side of the huge bed and as his feet touched the stone floor, a figure loomed up out of the dark. Locklear’s sword lay atop his clothing, in a pile only three feet away, but before he could take a single step, a massive fist slammed into the side of his head.
His senses reeling, Locklear went to his knees, clutching the bedcovers as the Princess sat up and shouted, “What is this?”
As Locklear tried to stand, another blow sent him crashing to the floor. As he struggled to keep his wits about him, someone lit a lamp. Five men dressed in the black of the Inner Legion stood ringing the Princess’s bed. Sojiana screamed, “Guards! To me!”
In concert, Locklear heard her voice stop with a gurgling, choking sound and a boot slammed into the side of his head. The world turned upside down and the last sight Locklear saw was the dark face of General Beruck, and the last sound he heard was the General saying, “Take him.”
Erland and Sharana both came awake instantly when the gongs began to ring. They hadn’t really been asleep, but rather were lost in a soft, warm doze that came quickly after their lovemaking. Despite her soft appearance, the girl was young, healthy, and fit, and challenged Erland, leaving him exhausted when they were done. But it was a wonderful exhaustion and he could not imagine anything he would wish for more than to have it last for a very long time.
But her reaction to the sound of the gongs banished that mood in an instant. “What is it?” he asked.
Sharana leaped out of the bed, the servants drawing aside the curtains for her, and said, “Court dress!”
As Erland fumbled to recover his own clothing, the servants had the Princess’s kilt and vest for her in moments. As she fastened the clasp that bound her kilt, she said, “It’s an alarm. It’s a command to seal the upper city. It means that something is very wrong.”
Erland hurriedly finished dressing, and when he was done, they both left the garden and entered his quarters. A mixed company of trueblood court guards and men in the black of the Inner Legions waited for her. They bowed and the officer in command said, “Your Highness. Your servants informed us you were here when we called at your quarters. The Empress commands us to bring you to her.”
Sharana nodded, and as Erland moved to come with her, one of the black-armored legionaries said, “We have no orders regarding this one, Highness.”
Sharana spun and almost spat as she spoke. “This one!” Pointing at Erland, she said, “He is Heir to the Throne of Isles! He is royalty!” Her voice was powerful, commanding, and her face flushed with rage. She almost screamed at the man when she shouted, “You will address him as you would my uncle, for he is Awari’s equal in rank. That is my command!”
Erland was astonished at the anger in the girl’s reaction to the slight, and the ferocity with which she expressed it. He half expected her to order the man to abase himself, but instead she simply motioned for the company to depart.
Erland noticed the officer was pale and perspiring and felt no envy for him this night. But as they rounded the corner, Sharana’s voice was once again honey and wine as she said, “I suppose it may be something to do with this unfortunate business of your father’s army. I doubt it could be anything really dangerous. Not in the upper city.”
Erland tried to reconcile the sweet and smiling girl who walked beside him now to the shouting one who had dressed down an officer only a moment before, and he couldn’t.
They entered the wing of the palace that contained the Court of Light, the formal hall of governing. Erland had not been inside it before, even when called before the Empress. Always before, they had met in the Empress’s audience hall.
But now he entered the seat of Kesh’s government, the place where darkness never intruded, for the hall was constructed with a thousand chandeliers, each with a score of large candles. Light bathed the room. As bright as day, the hall was almost devoid of shadows, for where sunlight came from only one direction, here light came from twenty thousand sources. Even as the business of the court continued, teams of workers lowered chandeliers and replaced guttering candles almost spent, for never was darkness allowed in the Court of Light.
Down the long entranceway they hurried, past assembled court officials and Imperial Legion officers. At the foremost of the crowd stood the general staff officers of Aber Bukar’s Dog Legions. Upon a throne leafed over in gold sat the Empress, resting on cushions made from material of woven gold thread.
Around her on rising seats, tier after tier climbing upward in a semicircle, sat the assembled rulers of Kesh in their Gallery of Lords and Masters. And even as Erland approached the throne, more were entering the hall, hurrying to their places.
The room was humming with quiet conversation and it took no seer to sense the tone of the meeting was fearful. Something terrible had occurred and the room echoed with the most apprehensive speculation.
When Sharana and Erland reached the foot of the dais, the Empress’s Master of Ceremonies struck the ground with the ironclad butt of his giant staff. The falcon that adorned the top of the staff seemed ready to launch itself from the disc of the sun it held in its claws.
“Attend, all ye! She is come! She is come! She Who Is Kesh now sits in judgment!”
Instantly a hush fell over the room. The Empress motioned for Sharana to come up the twelve steps to the top of the dais and the girl did so, a clear look of uncertainty upon her face. This was an unprecedented act, for in the tradition of the Empire, none mounts the Imperial dais save the Empress’s Master of Ceremonies, and he remains a step below, ready to pass up to She Who Is Kesh any documents she might need to peruse. But now she hesitated at the last step, and again her grandmother beckoned Sharana to come to her. When the girl reached her grandmother, she fell to her knees. Lakeisha, Empress of Great Kesh, gathered her granddaughter into her arms and began to cry. The chamber fell to utter silence at the spectacle, as nothing like it had been witnessed by any in attendance.
At last the old woman released her confused and distressed granddaughter and stood. Breathing deep to regain control, the Empress cried out, “Let it be known that murder has been done in my house!” Tears came to her weathered face again, but her voice remained strong. “My daughter is dead.”
There was a collective gasp from the audience. Several members of the Gallery of Lords and Masters looked at one another, seeking some sign that they had not heard this. “Yes,” cried the Empress, “Sojiana has been taken from me. She who was to follow after me is now taken from the light.” Then Lakeisha’s voice turned angry. “We have been betrayed! We have welcomed into this house one who has betrayed us, who is serving those who would seek to bring us low!”
Erland watched from the floor of the hall, and seeing the Empress’s eyes fall upon him, glanced about looking for his companions. James and Gamina were standing well to the rear of the vast hall, obviously under guard. Gamina’s voice came to him. James says to remain silent no matter what. He thinks we have been made—
Before she could finish the Empress screamed, “Erland! Prince of the House of conDoin, have you come into this nation to do naught but evil?”
Erland took a breath before speaking, and in a clear, calm voice said, “Make your meaning clear, Lakeisha, Empress of the House of Kesh.”
The familiar use of her name was not lost on the Keshian nobles. Erland was asserting his rank as Heir to the Throne of Isles. He knew that whatever happened, he was assured some protection
by his rank and the tradition of diplomatic immunity.
Glaring down at Erland, the Empress said, “You know my meaning clearly enough, child of woe. My daughter Sojiana, she who would have followed me in ruling Kesh, lies dead in her chamber, as you well know. Dead at the hands of your countryman.”
Erland again glanced around the room, but even as he failed to find the face he looked for, he heard the Empress’s voice say, “My daughter was murdered by the man you brought to our house, and if it can be shown he did so at your order, your rank and position will mean nothing.”
Almost in a whisper, Erland said, “Locklear.”
“Yes,” shouted the Empress. “Baron Locklear has fled into the night after doing his bloody work. The palace is sealed and the search begins. And when he has been brought before us, we will at last know the truth of this. Now, get you from my sight; I’ve had enough of the men of Isles for this life.”
Erland stiffly turned and walked out of the chamber, and as he crossed the portal, James and Gamina fell into step behind him, surrounded by guards. Not a word was said until they reached the apartments given over for James’s and Gamina’s use. Erland turned and commanded the guard Captain, “Leave us.” When the man hesitated, Erland stepped forward and shouted, “Leave us, now!”
The Captain bowed and said, “M’lord,” and ordered his men outside.
Erland turned to Gamina and silently said, Can you find Locky?
Gamina answered, I can try. She closed her eyes and was motionless for a while, then her eyes opened wide in astonishment and she said aloud, “Borric!”
Erland said, “What!”
Forcing herself to mind speech, she said, For a moment … just a moment, I thought… There was a silence, then she continued, I don’t know what that was. For an instant I detected a pattern that was familiar, then just as I recognized it … as I thought I recognized it … it vanished.
Vanished? asked James.
It must have been a magician. Only a magician could have shielded his thoughts from me that quickly and absolutely. With a note of sadness, she said, It couldn’t have been Borric, not here in the palace. I’m tired and worried. I must have just sensed something familiar in the pattern and jumped to the wrong conclusion before I was certain. I’ll keep seeking for Locklear.
The two men went to a divan and sat, watching as Gamina stood motionless, eyes closed as she sent her mind questing through the vast palace, looking for the familiar mental pattern that was Locklear’s. Erland moved close to James so he could speak in confidence while leaving Gamina undisturbed. “Did you find anything earlier?” he asked, referring to James’s intention to sneak out and scout around the palace.
“Nothing. There’s too much ground to cover,” James whispered. “It took me the better part of a month to discover most of the secret passages in your father’s palace and that’s one-tenth the size of this one.”
Erland sighed. “I thought you might … find something.”
James shared his disappointment. “So did I.”
They hardly spoke as they waited for Gamina to finish her search. After nearly a half hour, she opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she said quietly.
“No sign of him,” said Erland aloud.
No, she answered. He’s not in the palace. Anywhere.
Sitting back against heavy cushions, Erland said, “I think there’s nothing more we can do tonight but wait.” He rose and without another word left James and Gamina.
Borric almost jumped from behind the bushes. “What—” he began, but Ghuda yanked him back down before the guards in the entrance noticed. About five minutes after the alarm bell rang, guards began passing the doorway, all hurrying in one direction. There were both the white-kilted truebloods of the Palace Guards and the black-armored members of the Inner Legion. Borric’s only thought was that someone had at last grown suspicious about the odd-looking group wandering through the palace unescorted.
Ghuda said, “What are you trying to do?”
Borric whispered back, “I thought I heard someone speaking behind me for a moment.”
Nakor grinned. “There was some magic.”
“What?” asked Ghuda and Borric simultaneously.
“Some magic. Someone was searching the area. They reacted for a brief instant when they touched your mind.”
Borric blinked in confusion. “How do you know this?”
Nakor ignored the question. “But I fixed it. They can’t find you now.”
Borric was about to pursue the issue when another group of guards in the black of the Inner Legion entered the garden and began methodically searching among the hedges and bushes. Ghuda slowly and methodically pulled his sword from over his shoulder, ready to leap at the first guard who parted the brush behind which they crouched. When the guards were nearly upon them, Nakor leaped up and shouted, “Yeah!”
The closest guard nearly fell over backward in shock at the sight of this strange, scrawny madman leaping out at him. Then Nakor did a little dance and suddenly a dozen guards were rushing him.
Borric’s eyes widened in disbelief as a repeat of the scene he had witnessed the first time he had seen the diminutive Isalani was repeated, for no matter how close it seemed someone was to Nakor, the wily little man eluded his grasp. First one guard, then another, would almost close upon him, only to see the spry Isalani leap nimbly away, laughing maniacally the entire time. Twice he ducked under the encircling arms of one man, tripping another, and darting past a third, before anyone knew what was occurring. As arms sought to encircle him, he hit the ground rolling, and as guards dived to tackle him, he leaped into the air. Whenever a grasping hand sought to close upon him, it found only emptiness. And the hooting, gibbering sounds he made only drove the guards to try harder, taunting them into acting rashly.
Finally a Sergeant of the guard bellowed orders and the legionaries spread out to surround Nakor. The little man reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small object, about the size of a walnut. As the guardsmen rushed him, he threw it at the ground.
When the device struck, a blinding white light burst forth, followed by a cloud of white smoke, accompanied by the same nasty sulfur smell Borric had experienced in the jail at Jeeloge. Blinking, confused guardsmen stood around a moment, then discovered that Nakor wasn’t in the center of the circle anymore. A wicked laugh caused them to turn as one and there stood the Isalani before the hallway door. Whistling shrilly, he motioned for the guardsmen to follow and ran off toward the center of the palace. Ghuda said, “How did he do that?”
Suli whispered, “He must truly be a magician.”
Borric stood up. “They’ll be back when that Sergeant remembers there were others and they hadn’t finished searching this garden. We have to find another place to hide and quickly. Come on.”
Ghuda snorted in derision. “One place is much the same as another to die, Madman.”
Borric looked back at the mercenary for a long moment, then coolly said, “The object of the exercise is not to die, Ghuda.”
Ghuda shrugged. “I can’t argue that. Where now?” Borric glanced into the hall door and said, “In the opposite direction from where all those guards were heading. If we can circle behind into the area they’ve already searched, we can buy some time.”
He didn’t wait for further comment but simply walked into the hall calmly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Silently, he wished he did.
Erland sat alone brooding. Nothing was making sense. The events of the past two days were so improbable that he couldn’t for a moment believe the Empress actually thought he had come into her palace to cause this havoc. There was no motive, no reason, and no explanation, save the obvious one. Whoever had tried to foment war between the Kingdom and the Empire was actively attempting it again and seemed bent on speeding things along. The only suggestion that offered itself was that whoever the architect of this plot was, he wished to provoke the confrontation while every possible suspect in the Empire was in the city for the Ju
bilee. And there was a bloody brilliance to it, for if enough royals on both sides turned up dead, at some point both nations would cease seeking answers and start looking for vengeance.
Erland wished he knew more intimately the name of him who would wish this madness on two nations, for he would gladly have delivered him—or her, he amended; the women in court were as dangerous as the men—trussed like a game bird to the Empress. He considered trying to get a note to Sharana, reassuring her that he had absolutely nothing to do with this violence against her mother.
Then he thought better of it. Even if he had plunged in the knife or put poison in Sojiana’s cup himself, he would proclaim his innocence. Then a thought struck him: how was the Princess Sojiana murdered? And if Locklear was under suspicion, where was he? It was not as if he was a thief in the night; he was a peer of the Kingdom, a Baron of the Prince of Krondor’s court. Even should some conflict arise, some argument—even the most heated—Locklear would not harm a woman.
Erland knew Locklear was being made the scapegoat, but how to prove it?
Lady Miya entered the quarters and bowed slightly. “Erland,” she said softly, “the Empress has ordered that you be confined to these quarters under house arrest.”
Erland sat upright, anger suffusing him. “How dare she! Even she would not jeopardize the tradition of diplomatic immunity.”
Miya came to sit next to the Prince. “She’s lost her daughter. Her advisors are cautioning her that if she harms you or any of your party without leave of your King, she risks reprisals, and no Ambassador will dare enter the borders of Kesh again.” The woman sighed and put her arm around Erland’s shoulders. “She’ll change her mind in a day or two, I’m certain. Until then, you’re free to visit your friends in the other part of this wing, but you can’t leave this area without guards, and then only to return to the Empress’s court should she desire to see you again.”
Erland said, “How was the Princess murdered?”
Prince of the Blood Page 35
