Inheritance

by Simon Brown

  “Maybe you should make the grand tour,” Lynan joked. “I’ll stay behind to play at court.”

  Jenrosa shook her head. “Oh, no. Kendra is my home. I don’t want to leave.”

  “The way you speak of all these distant lands it sounds as if leaving Kendra is something you want more than anything else.”

  “Believe me, your Highness—”

  “Lynan, please.”

  “—I want to stay right here. But I can imagine you will enjoy yourself so much you’ll never want to come back.”

  Lynan finished his wine and refilled the glass. “Well, Kendra has one thing in its favor. That’s where you’ll be.”

  She looked at him hard, then fidgeted uncomfortably and stood up. “I see.” She looked like an animal that has suddenly realized it is in a cage.

  Lynan stood up, too, drew in a deep breath to speak. Just as he opened his mouth, someone started banging on the door.

  “Oh, damn!” he exclaimed, his breath coming out in a rush. “Go away!”

  The banging only increased in ferocity.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, your Highness!” shouted Pirem. There was such urgency in his voice that Lynan almost went to the door immediately.

  “Maybe the king needs to consult with his new roving ambassador,” Jenrosa suggested.

  “Pirem, couldn’t it wait?”

  “Now, Your Highness, please!” Pirem banged the door a few more times for effect.

  Jenrosa laughed quietly. “You don’t suppose he’s been listening outside, do you, and wants to make sure you don’t say anything too foolish?”

  “Foolish?”

  “Your Highness, please!”

  Lynan could no longer ignore the pleading in his servant’s voice. He stomped down the stairs to the door and opened it slightly. “This had better be important, Pirem—”

  He managed to get no more out before Pirem, breathless and pale and carrying Lynan’s coat and sword belt, forced his way in. He pushed his master away from the door, quickly glanced back at the corridor, then slammed it shut. He grabbed Lynan by the hand and dragged him up the stairs into the turret room. The servant’s eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head. “Quickly, Lynan, you have to leave the pal—” His words died in his throat when he saw Jenrosa.

  “How long has she been here?” he hissed.

  “Pirem, you forget yourself! And what business is it of yours how long Magicker Alucar has been here?”

  Pirem wrung his hands in distress. “Oh, I am sorry, your Highness, but not as sorry as you’ll be if you don’t leave the palace right now! This very minute!”

  Jenrosa stood up. “What’s happening?”

  Pirem thrust himself between her and Lynan. “How does His Highness know he can trust you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lynan demanded angrily.

  “She may be one of them!” he hissed.

  Lynan shook his head in frustration. “You have some explaining to do, Pirem. Be quick.”

  “Your brother’s dead!”

  “Dead? Which brother?”

  “The king! He’s been murdered!”

  There was a stunned silence, then Lynan said sternly. “That isn’t funny, Pirem. Your sense of humor is as sour as your tongue—”

  “I don’t think he’s joking,” Jenrosa said, carefully watching the servant. “Can’t you see how terrified he is? Pirem, how can you know Berayma is dead? Who killed him?”

  “I saw his body!”

  Lynan grabbed his servant by the shoulders. “Who killed him, Pirem? Who?”

  “Orkid! An’ Dejanus!”

  Lynan stared at Pirem, not knowing what to say, not wishing to believe his servant’s words.

  “Your Highness, please believe me. I haven’t been drinkin’. I wasn’t dreamin’. I know I’m an old fool sometimes, but I’m not an idiot!”

  “Tell me what you saw,” Lynan said, struggling to remain calm. “Everything you saw.”

  “There isn’t time for that!” He took Lynan by one arm and tried dragging him down the steps. Lynan resisted with all his strength. “They want to kill you, Lynan!”

  “Kill me?”

  “I’ll explain as we go,” Pirem said and again pulled on Lynan’s arm, at the same time handing Lynan his cloak and sword belt. “Follow me!”

  There was enough of the boy in Lynan, and still enough authority in Pirem’s voice, to make him obey the command. Pirem led the way out of the room and down into the main part of the palace, not far from Lynan’s chambers. “You can’t go back to your room, that’s the first place they’ll look for you. We have to get you a horse.”

  He led the way toward the royal stables, followed by Lynan and an uncertain Jenrosa. Lynan stopped and told Jenrosa to return to make her own way out of the palace. “I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no need for you to become involved.”

  Jenrosa agreed readily. “I want no part of a palace revolution.” She turned to go, but froze at the sound of tramping feet and jangling armor coming from around the corner at the far end of the hallway. “Then again…” she said halfheartedly.

  “Come now!” Pirem pleaded. “Quickly, before they see us!”

  He ducked down a side corridor, followed by his two charges, and hurried through a maze of little-used passages and servants’ ways. They soon heard a commotion from the general direction of Lynan’s quarters.

  “They’ve just discovered you’re missing,” Pirem said grimly, then stopped suddenly.

  “What’s wrong?” Lynan demanded.

  “I’m an idiot! They’ll be waitin’ for you at the stables!” His brow furrowed in concentration. “But you still need a horse.” Then his eyes lit up. “The Royal Guards’ stables! They won’t think of that! Not yet, at least.”

  They started off again, and a few minutes later they came out into an area behind the palace, near the stables of the Royal Guards. Pirem turned to the other two. “Be quiet, for God’s sake, or we’re all dead!” he said between clenched teeth. “We’ll have to work quickly and quietly to get you a mount, Your Highness.”

  “But where will I go?” Lynan asked, his voice rising.

  “Away from here,” Pirem answered, peering into the darkness as he spoke. “After that, I can’t help you, an’ I’ll slow you down if I come with you.” He peered into the darkness for a moment, then hissed, “The way is clear!”

  At a half-crouch the three fugitives ran across the open ground to the first enclosure. Lynan’s nose wrinkled.

  “Don’t they ever clean these stables?”

  “Of course they do, your Highness, but only once a day. These aren’t the Royal Stables. There, in the fourth booth, that looks like a good mount.”

  The horse was a fine-looking brown mare with a clean coat and a nose splashed with white. As Jenrosa led her from the booth, Lynan put on his coat and buckled on his sword belt. Pirem then helped him select a harness and saddle from those hanging from a wall opposite the entrance, and handed a bridle to Jenrosa.

  “I was in my room, your Highness,” Pirem started explaining suddenly, “when Harnan Beresard came asking me to find you an’ tell you that the king wanted to see you right away.” The two men lifted a saddle off its hooks and carried it to the waiting mare. As Lynan adjusted the saddle’s straps, Pirem continued his story.

  “I couldn’t find you, o’ course…” Pirem glanced at Jenrosa. “… so I went to tell the king there’d be a delay. When I got to his room, I heard voices, so I didn’t go straight in, thinking it best to wait until whoever it was had finished their business with his Majesty. Then I recognized the voices as belonging to Orkid an’ Dejanus. They were saying how some plan had to go right or somethin’, an’ I realized they could be talkin’ for hours, so I crept up to the door quiet as a cat to catch someone’s eye.”

  Lynan’s fingers were fumbling at tasks that had been automatic for years. Jenrosa was having similar difficulties fitting the bridle.


  “I was lookin’ into the room…” Pirem grabbed Lynan’s arm so tightly it hurt. His old, rheumy eyes looked up into Lynan’s face, tears rolling down his cheeks. “The king was on the floor in a bloody heap! I think they stabbed him right in the…” Pirem gagged, but managed to finish the sentence in a burst, “… in the neck, your Highness, pierced like a sticker in a boar’s belly, an’ the blood was everywhere.”

  Jenrosa swayed and held onto the mare’s head to stop herself from falling. Lynan was already crouching, but he too suddenly felt faint. He put a hand on the horse’s flank to steady himself.

  “They saw me! As I ran away, I heard Orkid tell Dejanus to kill me, an’ then to come after you! But I know this place like the back of my hand, all the servants’ ways, so I was able to get to you well before them. You know the rest.”

  Lynan slowly stood erect, taking the reins from Jenrosa. Pirem was resting against the wall, his hands shaking.

  “Thank you, Pirem,” Lynan said softly, trying to keep his voice even despite the fear threatening to overwhelm him. “You have risked your life to save mine. I will never forget it. Now you and Jenrosa must go. Find a place to hide, and I’ll try and let you know what happens to me.”

  “What will you do?” Jenrosa asked.

  Lynan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe King Tomar will help. But the first thing I have to do is get out of Kendra.”

  Pirem moved to the stable door and waved to him. “There is still no one here. Go now, your Highness, while you can. Quickly!”

  Lynan led the mare out to the open and mounted, then turned to say goodbye to his companions.

  “You there! Get off that horse!”

  Startled by the sound, the horse turned on its rear legs. Lynan saw five guards running toward him from the palace. Pirem jumped forward and slapped the horse on the rump. The animal bolted, almost unseating Lynan.

  “Flee, Lynan!” Pirem shouted. “Flee for your life!”

  Lynan did not know what to do. He wanted to ride away as fast as the mare could take him, but he could not just leave his friends like this. Pirem saw his indecision and drew his dagger.

  “There is nothing you can do for us!” he cried. “Flee!”

  Pirem turned and ran toward the guards, shouting an old war cry and waving his dagger above his head. The first guard tried to meet Pirem’s assault head-on, but Pirem had been a soldier longer than a servant. He dived under the sword and swept up with his dagger, lodging it into the guard’s chest. As the man reeled back, Pirem wrested the sword from his hand and charged again.

  After seeing the fate of their companion, the four surviving guards were more cautious. They kept their swords low and waited for the old man to come to them. Pirem swerved at the last moment to take the one on his far right, but his opponents were younger and more agile than he. There was a flurry of swordplay, then Pirem cried out and dropped to the ground, his weapon clattering to the earth next to his bleeding body.

  Jenrosa panicked and bolted, aiming for the servants’ door Pirem had led them through. The guards set off in pursuit.

  “Oh, God, no!” Lynan cried. He drew his sword, kicked his horse into action and galloped toward the guards. Two of them slowed down and spread out, trying to cut off his escape route. He charged the nearest.

  The guard brought up his own weapon in a high block, but Lynan loosened his left foot from the stirrup and slumped low over the mare’s right shoulder, swinging his sword up and out, striking the guard’s jaw and slicing along his throat like a barber’s razor. The guard grasped at the wound, dark blood spouting between his fingers, and collapsed without a sound.

  Lynan wheeled the horse around to face the guard on his right, but it was already too late. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the silhouette of a man behind him. A hand grasped his left foot, still out of the stirrup, and pushed it up and over the mare’s back. Lynan landed heavily on the ground, his breath whooshing out. A sharp pain in his side made him feel instantly nauseous. For a second he blacked out, and when he came to, he was on his back. Through a haze he could see a guard standing over him, his sword tickling Lynan’s throat, and two others standing back a few paces, Jenrosa struggling futilely in their arms.

  “Your Highness,” the guard over him said in a bitter voice, “for what you did to King Berayma tonight, I’m going to skewer you like a bird on a spit.”

  Lynan saw him bunch his muscles for the killing stroke when suddenly a shadow loomed over both of them. The guard gasped as a spear sprouted from his chest. He was pulled back off his feet and sent spinning away. A second, misshapen shadow cut down one of the guards holding Jenrosa, and the last guard turned on his heel and ran.

  A strong hand grabbed Lynan by the hair and pulled him to his feet. Lynan found himself staring at a salt-and-pepper beard and blue eyes.

  “Are you all right, lad?”

  “Kumul?”

  “What a silly bloody question,” the constable said. Still holding the prince by the hair, he spun him around so he could see the second rescuer.

  “And Ager,” Lynan said weakly. And then he remembered the magicker. “Jenrosa—”

  “I’m all right,” said her voice beside him. She was horribly pale and her whole body was shaking. She was staring at the body of the guard Kumul had killed.

  “The last guard!” Lynan said, remembering now that he had seen him running away. “He will tell others where we are!”

  “I’m too old to go chasing after him, and Ager here, for all his agility, couldn’t run after a lame infant.” Kumul turned to Jenrosa and Ager. “We need another three horses.”

  Jenrosa looked up at the constable strangely, then hurried back to the stables, Ager hobbling behind.

  “Do you think you can stand on your own, your Highness? I’ve got to help the others. We haven’t much time.”

  Lynan nodded vaguely and immediately felt his support go. He spread his feet wide to steady himself and looked around for his mare. She was standing twenty paces away, not far from the guard Lynan had dropped.

  I’ve killed my second man, he thought, and then felt wretched because the fellow had been one of the Royal Guards.

  He tried to control the heaving, but without success. He emptied his stomach. Groaning, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then tottered over to the horse. He returned to the stable, retrieving his sword on the way and cleaning the blade against his pants. Within two minutes he was joined by the others. All three mounted and the four headed down behind the stables and away from the palace. As they disappeared into the long shadows that covered the slope down to the city below, they heard behind them the first sounds of hue and cry.

  “Ride hard!” Kumul roared. The four kicked their horses into a gallop, then hung on for dear life as they descended into the darkness.

  Chapter 11

  Orkid stood in the doorway to Lynan’s chambers while Dejanus searched the rooms for any hint of where the prince might be.

  “He can’t be far,” Dejanus said. “My guards are at all the gates. He must still be in the palace.”

  “Unless Pirem found him,” Orkid said.

  Dejanus left the room. “His sword is gone, and the Key.” He looked desperately at Orkid. “What now? We need his corpse to blame for Berayma’s death—”

  “There’s no need to change the plan,” Orkid said, thinking. “Not yet, anyway. Your guards may still find and kill him for us.”

  “I’ll organize the hunt and make sure,” he said.

  “And I will wake Areava and tell her the tragic news about her brother.” Dejanus started to leave, but Orkid held him back and whispered fiercely in his ear: “And never forget the plan! We can gather all the willing witnesses we need once we have Lynan’s and Kumul’s bodies. Areava will believe the worst of her brother. And remember when you see her that she is queen now. Make sure your guards treat her as such.”

  * * *

  When Lynan and his companions reached the original city wall, they slow
ed their mounts to a steady walk. They needed to recover from their hair-raising descent, being almost as winded as their horses.

  They passed as quietly as possible through the narrow streets and alleys of old Kendra. There were some people about, marking the passing of good Queen Usharna and the start of Berayma’s reign, and the companions could hear snatches of song as they passed inns and taverns open late for the occasion.

  Lynan had no idea where Kumul was leading them. He sat on his horse like someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could not shake the feeling of nausea from his stomach, nor the images of Pirem’s tragic death and the guard he had killed. He had to swallow continually to keep the bile down. Jenrosa rode beside him, dazed by events and her predicament. Behind them came Ager, grimly silent. Only Kumul seemed to show any purpose, his face a mixture of alertness and barely repressed anger.

  They made their way southeast through the city. When Kumul pulled them up and ordered them off their horses, Lynan could smell the harbor not far away.

  “We’ll leave the horses here,” Kumul told them. “It’s best now if we go on foot.”

  “Where are we going?” Jenrosa asked.

  “A friend’s place,” he answered. “Now, no more questions until we get there. The less attention we draw to ourselves with unnecessary chatter, the better our chances of surviving the night.”

  They slapped their horses to send them on their way; if unhindered, they would eventually return to their stable. In a few minutes the companions had reached the docks. Ropes and pulleys creaked and clanked in the onshore evening breeze, and rats scurried out of their way. The harbor smelled of sewage and bilge and rotting flesh. Everything is death tonight, Lynan thought bitterly.

  Kumul, setting a rapid pace, led them east along the harbor for a league or so before heading north, back into the city proper. They passed warehouses smelling of exotic spices and busy taverns smelling of stale beer and urine. Skinny dogs sniffing for garbage scampered out of their way or growled at them defiantly. As the streets turned into alleys with houses dangerously leaning over them, the night air became strangled and still. The only sound was their own footsteps on the cobblestones and the occasional furtive scraping of a scavenging rodent or a hunting cat.