JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III

by JANRAE FRANK

  "Tell who?" Maya asked, urgently. "Tell who?" But it was too late. Yahni's eyes stared sightlessly past her shoulder. Twisted up by pain and poison he had left only an implication and not a statement of the most important fact of all, that Wrathscar and Galee were the vampires, not merely conspirators.

  Maya sat in numb silence, unable to think, unable to cry, hearing Leslie weeping softly for both of them. She lowered Yahni to the table and slid her arm around her mate's shoulder. Their triad had come to their favorite tavern to celebrate Leslie's pregnancy. Maya had passed Derryl's child to Leslie just last night. Derryl and Leslie had been married ten years and resigned themselves to a childless existence. A year ago Leslie gotten it into her head that Derryl, since he was not getting any younger, needed an heir, even if one had to be gotten on the wrong side of the blankets. So she pressured him into taking a mistress. He had always had an admiration for Guild women. Although Leslie was not Guild and neither was Maya, they were both Guild daughters. Derryl knew almost nothing about Sharani, having written most of it off to imagination and rumor until Maya began explaining it to them both.

  One of the taverner's sons came to check on them, bringing a blanket and they covered Yahni. Neither of them could bear to look at him, wondering how long he had lain in his captor's grasp before he had escaped to die here. Derryl joined them a short time later.

  "Tuhk tells me the lad died," Derryl said. "My darlings are taking this very hard, did you know him?"

  Maya's voice came as if from a great distance in her detachment. "It's Yahni. Wrathscar and the vampire murdered him over a book."

  "The hell, you say!" Derryl flicked back the blanket, his expression turning stormy.

  "Not an hour ago we're sitting here joking about Yahni this and Yahni that – and – and all the while they're killing him." Leslie choked.

  Derryl's face darkened. "Damn the Wrathscars. A book, you say?" He stepped quickly into the hallway. "Tuhk!"

  The Taverner appeared, drying his hands on his apron. "Lord?"

  "Find me a book that's been lost on the streets, dropped in the gutters most likely, maybe fallen into the sewers, I'll recognize it when I see it. It's a magic book, dangerous. So don't open it or try to read it. Get all the little gutter rats looking. A bag of gold for finding it. Make certain Wrathscar doesn't find out. That's what this altercation was about. This mon belonged to me. He was Maya's brother. I'll owe you a favor besides."

  "Tut. I am already in your debt, good lord."

  "You are a fine friend. Have my carriage sent round to the back. It will not do for Wrathscar to know I'm here. Have you something I can wrap his body in?"

  Tuhk nodded. "And I have a meat mon who will see that not a piece of those soldiers remains to tell Wrathscar what became of them."

  Derryl chuckled darkly, not entirely able to mask the twisting in his voice. "And who does he sell the meat to?"

  "Lord Wrathscar of course."

  * * * *

  "What are we going to tell the Guild?" Maya asked as the carriage rolled slowly up the mountain toward Ishladrim Castle. She wanted to tell her family, to go crying to her fathers, but first she was a daughter of the Guild. She knew her duty. They had ridden most of the winding way in silence. She had rarely seen Derryl so quiet. He had grown close to Yahni these last few months. He had no family, other than Leslie and herself. The vampire had claimed them all nearly thirty years ago during the first rampage.

  "To begin with I'm going to initially tell them that I found his body in a alley." Derryl's eyes hardened as he spoke, reaching for each word with care. "You see, not only do we have Wrathscar and Galee, but also we have a creature, this mysterious creature that poisoned him. You do not make a Guildsmon by fiat. And then you have Belyla, who he seems to think is at risk from both Wrathscar and the Guild." The Dance of Passion, Yahni? Did they snare you while you were searching for the book? And then, perhaps did your little lady turn on Wrathscar and try to carry you free? I wonder. If so, they've probably killed her.

  "A lot of Guildsmyn agree with you," Leslie said.

  "I'm certain of that, but I want to be careful that no word of what he said reaches Galee. So first I need to find out which unit he was working with. Ask around, my darlings, discreetly. As daughters of the Guild, you have contacts that I have not."

  * * * *

  Terrys hesitated before her door at the knock. She no longer opened her door without knowing who it might be on the other side. Terror and a growing sense of helplessness had become her companions. Shadows underlined her eyes. Although the day was late, she had not dressed as she had moved listlessly through the apartment unable to find the strength to leave it. "Who is it?"

  "Jajinga. Osterbridge is with me."

  Terrys opened the door and nearly fell into his arms with relief. Then she saw the look on both myn's faces and knew before they said the words, her heart quailing.

  "Sit down, Terrys. It's bad news." Osterbridge told her.

  "Yahni?" She went pale.

  Jajinga nodded. "They found his body ... in an alley. We suspect Belyla is dead also."

  A long, keening cry of anguish broke from her lips as she crumpled. Jajinga caught her and carried her to the couch. She shoved away from him and twisted up in a corner. Osterbridge came and knelt beside her, stroking her head and murmuring words of comfort that were meant as much for himself as for her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MOHANJA'S DECISION

  "My carriage nearly rolled over his body in the alley," Derryl explained. He sat alone with the Grand Master and his two lieutenants, Galee and Mohanja Raam, in the Grand Master's study. Half the morning had been lost in the senseless repetition of Galee's questions, sitting here, going round and round, and Derryl was losing his patience. He saw how high the sun had risen, its bright golden glow flooding through the northeast windows.

  "And you were alone?" Galee asked suspiciously.

  Her question forced his attention back again. "I've told you, my ladies were with me, my coachmon, driver, two outriders," he said, a trace of weary irritation at the edge of his voice. "Hardly alone. My ladies are grief stricken. They have not ceased weeping since we turned him over and found he was Maya's brother. My private healer sedated them. They are with Maya's family now at the temple keeping vigil over his body."

  "He was dead when you found him?"

  "Quite. I've said that."

  "Galee," Mohanja spoke, having grown tired of her endless obsessive probing, "Lord Derryl has told us all that he knows and he is an honorable mon. Let it be. My Lord and Master, call this meeting ended."

  Takhalme nodded slowly. "I am tired and this has been going over old ground. Thank you, Lord Derryl, for your service to us. I will see that you are rewarded. Carry my words to the Kjartens that I share in their sorrow at the loss of a fine young mon."

  "You are kind, Grand Master, as always."

  Mohanja aided his master to rise, helping him from the room.

  "If he lived long enough to speak and you have not told me–" Galee hissed.

  "Never fear, Galee, I am a loyal mon." Derryl gave her a stunning smile, a courtly bow, and swept from the room. The smile left his face as he stepped into the corridor, heading for the apartments he still retained in the palace for those occasions when he must, of necessity, remain late for council meetings. He prayed they would become rarer, yet feared it would prove the opposite. The last vampire war, as he and his close friends referred to it, had lasted close to ten years. It had not been a continuous thing, so much as a series of skirmishes that worsened and waned and worsened until it finally ended. He had been twelve or thirteen when he became conscious of what was going on, but that did not mean that was when it started. He needed to know exactly when it started, and not trust to childhood memories. He would have to ask Eshraf. He knew when it ended. By his reckoning both Galee and Wrathscar were old enough to be the vampire. Galee did not age. She claimed to be sylvan and had the pointed ears to prove it. He needed to fin
d a pretext to have a talk with that Willodarian mage of Eshraf's. He would know if she were sylvan or had sylvan blood. So would Channadar, but the Fae had always been cagey about that when he'd asked. They would have to eliminate all the long-lived bloodlines. Like the Sharani. There was a lot of Sharani blood in Havensword and not just the purebloods like Maya's family. There was Fae blood in Lord Channadar's family and yuwenghau four generations back in Lord Torrylimon's.

  Creeya was an amalgamation of races and bloodlines that Hadjys had gathered together by Reading their hearts when he decided to found this realm as the backbone of his worship. Their language was built of the fragments of a thousand tongues. Their spirit and devotion had been forged like a sword to bring justice to those who would not otherwise get it. Yet here in their midst was injustice of the worst sort. Derryl had dreamed of being Guild and, as a youngest son, he would have been allowed that dream. Only his dream had died with his brothers.

  He became the coffers, rather than a sword among swords, during Yukiah's fight. Although he saw far more of the action than his comrades would have liked and had the scars to prove it. If there were a way to bring vengeance for Yahni, he would bring it. Derryl walked faster through the corridor.

  * * * *

  Mohanja had watched Galee's eyes as Lord Derryl passed her. If glances were daggers, she had just murdered Lord Derryl. That did not befit one who wielded the power of the Guild. Derryl had done nothing to her. She had no right to intrude on his mistress and wife 's grief. She is not Guild. My master Takhalme made her Guild by fiat, but only our god can make a Guildsmon. What could have possessed him? It is almost a blasphemy.

  When Mohanja had gotten the Grand Master settled into bed, he stood and stared at the withered mon who had made a servant of his lieutenant. A shiver ran up the big mon's spine. For the last year, as the Grand Master had grown more and more withered and tired, he trusted fewer and fewer people. He allowed no one save Mohanja into the bedchamber. Mohanja put him to bed at night and got him up in the morning. More and more of Mohanja's responsibilities were being given over to Queiggy as the Grand Master clung to Mohanja for everything. Only when Galee brought her personal servants up to help the Grand Master bathe and dress did he let the big mon go and then it was with reluctance.

  He needed to speak with Queiggy; his second had called an up drawbridge and refused to leave the wing. The mon had magic of some sort. Mohanja had a special sensitivity to it. If Queiggy believed that Galee or the Grand Master had sent him to spy, the mon would refuse to answer his questions or twist things to protect the Guild from him in line with the teachings. He could order him to comply and then Queiggy could chose to mutiny. Queiggy had technically sealed off the wing, but not yet closed the doors. The death of Yahni could tip the scales in either direction. If only the boy had lived long enough to name his killers! Mohanja had a gut instinct it would have ripped the Guild apart. He headed down toward the Guild Wing, stopping off at his own chambers for a large envelope. He had to at least try to speak with Queiggy, and he hoped that these papers would help.

  * * * *

  This is all twisting the knife in our hearts further, Maya thought as she gazed at her brother's body in its open casket. The priests had tried to hide some of the signs of the torment in which he died by applying make-up to his face. Yahni lay in state before the altar in a private chapel within the temple, his body had been wrapped in linen by the priests to conceal the terrible wounds and scars before clothing him in his dress uniform with the hilt of a sword clasped in his hands. His ma'aram and 'lasah had requested a full Guild funeral with all honors and Mohanja had granted it, despite the somewhat questionable circumstances of his death. Galee had thrown a fit, citing Solance's report, which claimed the young mon had died of a deliberate overdose of street-drugs, that Yahni had clearly been an addict, and involved with vampires for the enjoyment of the sensations. All three healers had agreed upon the evidence of prolonged amphereon dependency, but nothing more. They refused to agree that the scar on his left wrist, even though it matched with the type of blade Yahni had been known to carry, was evidence of a previous suicide attempt. So Mohanja had overruled Galee in this since she had no jurisdiction over members of his units. Yahni would have his full Guild Military Funeral and Burial with all Honors. Maya felt that she was in Mohanja's debt for the comfort this gave her family.

  Maya held her father, Lord Oakwithe, who wept uncontrollably against her shoulder. Everyone could see that he was completely broken by his only son's death. She glanced around the room, half listening to all the conversations.

  Mikkal looked strained. "Just over a month ago, he and Belyla came to me, asking that I marry them secretly. I did so. She was carrying his child. They intended to run away as soon as word came from relatives in Shaurone who were willing to receive them. They were very much in love. In two days I will be burying him." He had revealed the fact of the marriage to those present in the understanding that it would not be repeated outside the chapel.

  "I believe that Belyla is dead as well," Jajinga told the old priest. "We simply have not found her body yet. We may never find it."

  "Tragic ... so tragic ... so young," Mikkal said, a soft undercurrent of outrage lining his words. "I want the monsters caught."

  They would be temporarily interring Yahni in the old crypts on their mansion grounds in Havensword before taking him home after the heir's wedding.

  Terrys, sitting on a pew, suddenly rose and threw herself across the casket, screaming, and weeping, her fingernails digging into the wood, her face pressed to his cold flesh. "Yahni! You can't be dead. You can't! I never stopped loving you. I should have told you. Yahni ...Yahni." Then she sank to her knees, her arms trailing across the wooden box. Osterbridge went to her, lifted her up, and guided her to a more private corner to comfort her.

  Maya felt grateful for that. These displays only made it harder on her father.

  "Wrathscar killed him," Lord Taurlys said, his voice full of vehemence and anger. "He found Belyla and Yahni together and he killed my nephew. I'm certain of it."

  "You cannot prove it, Lord Taurlys," said a Guildsmon.

  Maya did not know that one. Her brother had had far more friends than she realized. He had been well liked and well thought of in the Guild. She felt grateful for the way they all rallied around her family.

  "I don't need to prove it, I know it!" Lord Taurlys remained adamant.

  Maya felt a headache coming on. Word had been sent out to their far-flung clan to gather in Havensword and bring vengeance for Yahni. She had a feeling they were going after Lord Wrathscar. Maya felt she held the key to it all, but was not certain. If only Yahni had lived long enough to tell her all of it! She shifted her weeping father into the arms of one of her mothers. She swallowed. "I need to find Derryl."

  Cleatè nodded. "I understand. They should be done questioning him by now."

  "Do you, also, think Wrathscar did it?" she asked on impulse.

  "Yes."

  Maya rose and Leslie, who sat beside her, stood with her.

  * * * *

  Derryl reached his apartments to change before going on to the temple and offering what small comfort he could to Maya's grieving family. He found Leslie and Maya waiting anxiously for him in the parlor. Both looked tired, red-eyed from weeping, but Maya looked positively haggard. They were telling the same story to Lord Taurlys Kjarten's clan that they had told the Guild. Maya hated lying to her family, but they dared not risk the truth reaching the wrong people.

  "How did it go?" Leslie asked, grabbing at him. He kissed her and dragged Maya into the embrace. They clung to him for a long time. Derryl could feel Maya trembling, the way she fought so hard not to break down again, to stop giving way to tears.

  He brought them to the couch and sat down with them to either side. "I'm certain that Galee was involved. She threatened me and seemed desperate to know if he had said anything. How is your family handling this, Maya?"

  "They're torn up. Papa
Oakwithe has collapsed. Yahni was his only son." Maya sucked in a deep, shaking breath, her eyes filling again. "I can't believe Yahni's gone. Papa keeps crying." Her face crumpled.

  Leslie started toward her, but Derryl waved her back. He knelt in front of Maya, gripping her shoulders firmly with a little shake. "Listen to me, Maya. You're my Iron Lady. You must be strong. First we must discover how much of what Yahni told us about the heir is true. Can you do that? Yahni deserves his vengeance."

  Maya mastered herself, nodding. "Yes. Yes, Derryl."

  "Good. Do either of you know the name of that healer Wrathscar used who is now employed in the palace compound?"

  "Solance," Maya said.

  "One of you find an excuse to get him over here and pump him for rumors concerning the heir. But be careful. Don't swallow anything."

  Maya clutched at him as he started to rise. "Derryl, can we call the child Yahni?"

  Derryl glanced at Leslie, who nodded, and he said, "Yes. Your brother was a good mon, regardless of what others might say. I'll be proud to name our son Yahni."

  "Thank you." Maya's eyes filled again and Leslie wrapped her arms around her.

  "Dear, darling Maya. We love you." Leslie said.

  * * * *

  Galee raged back and forth in her apartments, yelling at her Lemyari, moving restlessly from one room to the next and then returning to her study where her dark servants waited. They were the same four who had sat with Talons that afternoon in the garden drinking poisoned wine.

  "There have been too many mistakes. First Wrathscar's chit of a daughter started seeing that Guildsmon. This cannot keep happening! You are supposed to be keeping an eye on my doxies. You should have recognized Yahni Kjarten!"

  "Galee, we tried to keep watch on all of them. Belyla was hard to keep track of. There would need to have been an entire cadre of us to watch all of this," said Meilurk. "And that would cause suspicion. Too many new faces. Later when more of the lords arrive..."

  "Shut up! How could you not know when Wrathscar turned all four of his little chicks in a single night."