by Джеффри Лорд
Blade felt an inner surge of new strength as the baron sprang clear, staring at his arm. And he felt the mood of the crowd swing in his favor-or was it just in favor of blood and victory, no matter whose? No time to think that over now, only time to press his advantage. He stepped up his own pace to a level he knew he could not maintain for long, and pressed his attack.
In another minute the baron showed blood on the side of his neck and a moment after that on his left thigh. But although he had abandoned the furious offensive of the first stages of the fight, he was still maintaining a solid defense. Blade heard the crowd, for a few moments perhaps his partisans, subside once again into rumblings and occasional remarks. And he knew he was pouring the last of his strength into an offense that had yet to break decisively through to the baron. He would have to draw the baron out, and soon.
As he stepped back for a moment’s break, his opponent did not let him move away unmolested. Instead Maltravos sprang out of his defensive stance with both swords slicing the air. Blade gave way before the attack, put his left foot into a slick smear of blood on the floor, and felt himself going over backward.
Instantly the reflexes developed by his unarmed combat training took over. Before he hit the ground he had whipped his left arm forward to hurl the shield at the baron and lashed out with his right foot at the baron’s kneecap: Both strokes connected. It was the baron’s turn to reel back so violently that he lost his balance. Blade continued his backward fall, kicked himself over into a complete backward somersault, and came up still clutching his sword before the baron had regained his feet. For a moment the solid defense was shattered. Blade thrust with every ounce of strength and speed he had left, saw his point drive through Maltravos’ chest, heard it scrape on the floor as it came out Maltravos’ back. Blood came out of the baron’s mouth, he coughed twice, then his grip on his swords relaxed and they clattered to the floor on either side of their dead master.
Blade felt like falling forward and lying face down on the stone until his head stopped whirling. Instead, he pulled his sword free, laid it down beside his shield, and turned to the King.
«Is it Your Majesty’s judgment that I defeated Baron Maltravos in equal and fair combat?»
There was a moment’s silence while the King pulled at his beard and another, deeper silence fell over the crowd. Then he looked at Blade, smiled, and said:
«You have, Captain Blahyd. And so be it. Herald, proclaim the new Champion of the King of Royth!»
As the trumpets blared again and the crowd swept the guards aside to cluster round him and congratulate him, Blade’s legs finally gave under him and he sank to the floor not far from the baron’s body. Part of his mind was hurling sharp remarks at him for this weakness, reminding him that his crew still needed protection and much else had to be done. The other part was informing him that he was not far from collapse and that if he had in truth any influence as Champion, it would not vanish in the few minutes it took to restore a small fraction of his energy. Eventually, he got his legs moving again and, half-walking, half-stumbling, he made his way out of the Court chamber in the wake of two guards assigned to lead him to his new quarters. The last things he saw before passing through the high-arched door with its bronze grill folded back were the faces of Alixa and the countess. They were staring at him from opposite sides of the room, and both had a combination of awe and hope in their eyes.
CHAPTER 16
Blade soon discovered that while being King’s Champion of Royth got him and his crew out of prison, it did not immediately solve very many of his other problems. Brora and the other pirates went through a solemn and humiliating ceremony at the local temple of Druk and, after being pronounced cleansed of the taint of the Brotherhood, went to work in the royal dockyards. Blade had a chance for a few words with Brora before the sailor led his men off to their new work.
«Find out who in the dockyards supports Indhios and who opposes him. If you can safely do so, organize the ones on our side for action in a crisis. They may be needed.» Brora nodded and went off without a word. Blade knew the man understood him perfectly and would do as much as humanly possible to win over and organize the dockyard workers.
Brora and the others at least had the consolation of hard, useful work day in and day out. For Blade, the duty of King’s Champion proved to entail more show than work, as the countess had warned him it would. It gave him the freedom of movement he needed to play his role in his own (and Larina’s) intrigues, and to visit Larina herself occasionally. But otherwise it was a thoroughgoing bore. For Blade it had more and more of a bird-in-a-gilded-cage feeling as the weeks wore on.
And also, as the weeks wore on the winter chill faded from the winds, and buds began to appear on the trees. Blade became more and more impatient. What he had learned in Royth confirmed what he had picked up in Neral-this was the year Indhios would make his move. And the year was pushing onward to the moment when Indhios would be prepared to strike.
Larina drove him wild with frustration as she continued to turn aside all his urgings for quick action, saying that while he might be a fighting man, she knew the intrigues of the Court. It would be folly to risk everything by moving prematurely. Blade was equally convinced it was becoming folly to wait, risking discovery by the Chancellor.
Blade was also becoming more concerned about Alixa. She was still in High Royth, or so it was reported, but any day now the Chancellor might decide to send her to one of his more remote estates, where she could be kept safely for the day when she would be turned over to the pirates. Even if Indhios himself were caught, it would be an easy thing for his henchmen to use Alixa as a hostage for their own escape, and tracking down every one of Indhios’ agents would be impossible. Only a quick blow at the count and his leading allies together, beheading the whole conspiracy at one stroke, stood any chance of saving Royth. And apart from that, Blade wanted Alixa safe. In this intrigue-riddled Dimension, she was one of the few whole, sound, sane people he had found. Still, for all the countess’ assurances that she was not jealous of Alixa, Blade could not quite trust her reaction if he urged faster action because it would help to save Alixa.
The winds grew warmer still; dawn now came before Blade slipped from Larina’s bed and down the stairs to where his horse waited. The buds began to turn to young leaves, and on a blue sea the white, red, and brown sails of ships began to appear. The seas were opening again-to pirates as well as peaceful commerce.
Brora’s talents and his previous reputation and popularity had led to his being given full charge of a dock, with the rank of an officer. Most of the other ex-pirates, except for a few incorrigibles, had also done well, in spite of the prejudice against even forsworn Neralers. Brora and his men had learned much and were learning more.
A fair number of the officers of the dockyard and the fleet had gone over to Indhios, who was pouring out money and promises with a lavishness that Blade knew could not be long maintained. These formed a solid, well-organized bloc. There was a smaller group, with some officers but mostly led by the senior warrant officers, foremen and the like, who were sworn to fight Indhios and his allies to the death. These had already done much to organize for action even before Brora appeared. And as always, there was the majority of both officers and men who saw nothing beyond their daily jobs and knew little and cared less of politics.
There was an extensive district of cheap waterfront taverns and sailors’ dives where most of the plotting and counterplotting went on. There Blade and Brora met every few nights to exchange information over leather cups of sour wine and scummy beer. Blade disliked the smells of over-aged fish cooked in rancid oil, the guttering torchlight, the shrill-voiced trulls and snarling tavernkeepers that filled the area, but it was by far the best place to meet in safety. Indhios had few if any supporters among the tavern population, and some of those who had been incautious enough to reveal themselves at the wrong time had never been seen again. Besides, Brora had a full twelve-hour day to work, while Blade had l
ittle or nothing to occupy his time except his occasional nights with Larina.
A gust-driven, spattering rain was falling on the huddled waterfront district as Blade made his way homeward toward the palace one night. This was a particularly bad area, and the night was warm, so he rode with his cloak thrown back and his sword openly exposed at his side. There was nothing to look forward to but the ceremonial good-night to the King and a late supper in the boring company of half a dozen other court functionaries, all of them twenty years older than he and with twenty years more of petty experiences to be boring about. The sigh and patter of the storm and the clop-clop of his horse’s hooves were the only sounds.
Abruptly a cloaked figure slipped out from an alley to his left and darted at him. His sword was free in an instant, and he was flipping it up for a downstroke when the countess’ voice spoke from inside the figure’s hood:
«Blahyd! Abandon your horse-now! — and come with me!»
If it had been anybody else but the countess, Blade would have spurred the horse to a gallop and vanished up the hill. But though her presence here in this slum was a surprise, he knew the countess would not be here but for some good and important reason. She had too much common sense to risk herself unnecessarily. He felt the tingling and stimulation that the prospect of action often produced; he had not had a chance to feel this way for much too long.
The horse clattered away up the hill by itself and Blade followed the countess down a pitch-dark alley into a low-roofed shed. Four men, their faces darkened with soot, were sitting around a feeble oil lamp.
«My guards,» said the countess. She turned to Blade and said, «Are your allies in the dockyards ready?»
Blade wanted to cheer out loud, but he only nodded and added, «‘As ready as they could be by now.»
The countess smiled. «Well and good. Indhios plans to move tomorrow night. His agents will start fires in the dockyards, destroying the navy’s supplies and many warships. At the same time, others of his faction in the garrison will call out their troops to «suppress disorders» and will march on the palace. King Pelthros will be taken prisoner, drugged, and used as a puppet until the pirates arrive. And Indhios is sending Alixa up-country. She and her escort leave tonight.»
Blade subdued a flare of rage at that news and asked, «Do you know the agents in the dockyard?»
She nodded and named several officers who were already on Brora’s list, plus others Blade had not heard mentioned. «Let me write a note to Brora,» he said, «and have one of your men take it to him immediately. He will probably still be at the Sailor’s Friend on Brandy Street. That should be all we need to make the dockyard safe. Brora has little love for pirates.» He quickly scribbled a few lines on a sheet of paper and folded it into a small square that one of the guards dropped into his pouch.
When the man had vanished into the night, the countess said, «For our part, it is time to go to the palace and alert the King. I have with me all the written evidence needed to convince even Pelthros, including your notes from your stay on Neral.»
«How did you get those? I thought Indhios had them concealed safely.»
«They were safe, until Indhios boasted too long to one of his henchmen. He no longer trusts me enough to speak before me, but his vanity has not changed. The man wanted me to come to his bed, and it was easy to raid his strongbox while he slept afterwards.» She shivered with disgust at the memory. «Once we have Pelthros convinced, it should be easy. Indhios has only a few supporters among the courtiers, and I can rely on you to deal with them properly if they appear. The Royal Guard is mostly loyal to Pelthros. If they are alerted, they can easily defend the palace against Indhios’ faction until the loyal troops come up. If we can only convince Pelthros and then keep him alive long enough to give the necessary orders. .» Her jaw set, but her eyes were anything but grim, gleaming with her own joy of battle and the hope of seeing her plans all come to fruition. «But we need no more talking. It is time to leave.»
There were horses for all of them ready in a stable on the other side of the shed. As greatly as he wanted to break into a gallop, Blade kept his mount reined in to a trot all the way to the palace. It loomed high and somber in the night, with only the few gleams of light that marked the sentries’ posts still breaking the darkness. As King’s Champion, Blade could pass anywhere without question, even into the personal presence of the King with no permission other than the King’s own. So the sentries at the outer gates passed them through without question once they recognized Blade.
Once inside, however, Blade kept his hand on his sword as they moved down the long, dark corridors towards the royal apartments. He cursed Pelthros’ frugality that led to the palace being largely in darkness. If Indhios had any of his allies prowling in this darkness, they might have to fight their way through against men who knew the palace better than he did. Blade almost wanted to take off his boots and pad forward on his bare feet, as their footfalls echoed from the stone around them seemingly loud enough to shake the whole palace and wake the long-dead Kings of Royth in their tombs far below. But as they twisted and turned their way closer to their goal, the palace might still have been a city of the dead.
They saw nothing to start at but their own shadows when they passed through an area lighted by a feeble torch or a few candles and finally reached the small, square chamber that lay at the foot of the stairs leading to the actual private chambers of King Pelthros. Four soldiers were on duty in the chamber, tough young men in chased silver cuirasses and open-faced helms, officers from the elite Royal Guard. Now, though, the light of the bronze chandelier hanging from the roof of the chamber showed the hard, tanned faces as bored and inattentive as those of any sentry walking his post on a cold night in a rear-area garrison. One of them yawned in Blade’s face as he led his party into the chamber.
Blade had no authority over the Royal Guard by law, but he had contrived friendships (or at least mutual trust) with some of the officers. Unfortunately, none of the ones he knew well were among the four on duty. The one who had yawned was a captain he knew only by name; the others he had never even seen.
«Good evening, Captain Tralthos.»
«Morning, rather, Champion Blade. It’s well on toward the second hour. What brings you here? And who are these people?»
«The Countess Indhios and three of her household.» Tralthos’ eyes widened at the name. «We have urgent business with His Majesty.»
«Hand the message over and I’ll see that it gets delivered to him the first thing in the morning,» said Tralthos wearily.
«It must be delivered to His Majesty personally. And immediately.»
Tralthos looked openly truculent. Blade could hardly blame the man. Or perhaps Indhios had managed to suborn some of the Palace Guard after all? A distinctly unpleasant thought. For a long moment Blade and Tralthos glared at each other in a direct confrontation of will power. At the end of that moment, it was Tralthos who gave way.
«All right,» he grumbled, unable to manage his surrender with grace. «I’ll go on up and wake the King.»
«Do that,» said Blade shortly. «And hurry, if you love your King!» He was feeling distinctly edgy. No premonitions of trouble-yet-but they could still be confounded and slain if a dozen of Indhios’ bravos charged out of the darkness. He turned back to look at the long corridor. Nothing moved in it, out to the end of the torchlight where walls, floor, and ceiling all merged into blackness. Not yet.
Tralthos vanished up the stairs to the royal chambers. They saw his torch flicker its way up to the small door at the top, heard him knock, listened as he did for the response, then heard a door latch disengaged and a squeak of hinges as the door opened and he vanished through it.
Although they almost stopped breathing, in the vague murmur of words floating down the stairs to them they could still distinguish neither voices nor words. It occurred to Blade that it would be a monumental jest of the gods if the Kingdom of Royth were to fall to the Neraler pirates because its King obje
cted to being awakened at two in the morning.
Then his speculation ended abruptly as Tralthos closed the door and came back down the stairs. «His Majesty will receive Champion Blade and the Countess Indhios, but the others must remain here.» Blade nodded. «Also, you must leave your weapons down here.»
Before Blade could explode in a futile and disastrous outburst of rage against all this timidity and bureaucracy, the countess laid a hand on his arm and said swiftly, «We agree. Lead us to the King,» to Tralthos, and in a half-whisper to Blade, «Silence! Would you smash everything when we are so close?» Blade’s temptation was to point out that they were not yet so close that they could not be interrupted-permanently-but Tralthos was already on his way back up the stairs and motioning them to follow him.
They found the King sitting on the edge of his bed, the blankets thrown back and the pillows shoved into a massive white pile in one corner. The bed itself was a huge canopied affair easily large enough to accommodate five people, hung with black brocade embroidered with red silk castles. Pelthros had pulled on a dark green chamber robe and belted his sword on over it. Otherwise he was barefoot, unkempt, with his thick salt-and-pepper beard and his not-so-thick gray hair sticking out in all directions, red-eyed and baleful in the glare he threw at the two visitors.
Blade let the countess explain their visit. She was more fluent in the Court formulas of speech, and had a strong personal incentive for making herself as conspicuous as possible in the King’s eyes. Blade had no particular interest in politics any longer except insofar as it was necessary to convince Pelthros of the threat. After that, he wanted only to work his way through the ranks of the enemy with his sword, starting with Indhios.
