The blood king cotn-2

by Gail Z. Martin

  "Look who we found!" Carroway grinned, and the musicians looked from the bard to Tris as if they had seen a ghost. "You remember Helki, Paiva and Macaria-from back home?"

  "By the Lady, can it be?" asked Helki with a gasp. "My prince!" he exclaimed. Carroway made hushing gestures. To Tris's chagrin, the three minstrels bowed low.

  Lars came through the door just then, with a small bag of coins for the minstrels. "I have your pay, unless you're of a mind to leave without it," the innkeeper said, stooping to pick up a coin that fell. He froze, looking at Jared's image on the gold piece, and then rose slowly, looking from the coin to Tris and back again as if the coin might burn him.

  "M'lord mage," the innkeeper croaked. "I mean no disrespect, but 'tis the Lady's truth that there is a powerful resemblance between you and the king."

  "The minstrel called him 'my prince,' just now,"

  Tabethe said, nervously edging toward Lars.

  Resigned, Tris stood and spread his hands. "I didn't mean to deceive you," he said to the innkeeper, who looked pale with fear. Vahanian and Gabriel moved closer to him, and Kiara stood, her hand near her sword. "I wanted to spare you the burden of dangerous knowledge. You're correct. I'm Martris Drayke."

  The innkeeper gasped and then elbowed his wife, who stood with her mouth open. "Curtsey, you fool," Lars whispered as he made an awkward bow. Tabethe, after a moment, found the presence of mind to attempt an equally unpracticed curtsey, and nearly lost her footing. Lara and Toby stared wide-eyed from near the wall.

  "The rumors are true then!" Lars exclaimed, finding his voice. "By the Goddess! Prince Martris lives! Oh me, and what I've said, please, my prince, take no offense-"

  Tris smiled at the innkeeper's flustered apology. "None taken. We're grateful for your shelter, both before, when we fled for our lives, and now, when we're still in danger. I don't wish to put your family at risk. If you'll keep the secret of our passing, we'll leave."

  "On a night like this?" the innkeeper cried. "My prince, we're honored to have you under our root. Oh my, what am I thinking? There's royalty in the inn, and we've got them in the kitchen!"

  Tris burst out laughing. "Good sir," Tris said, "believe me when I tell you that yours are the best accommodations we've had in many a fortnight."

  Lars brightened, blushing with pride. "Truly? We're honored, Your Highness. You're welcome to sleep in our own rooms, humble as they are, rather than here in the kitchen."

  "We're quite comfortable here, near the fire, with some bedding if there's any to spare," Tris said. He was grateful for the man's offer, but preferred the quick exit of the back door. "But I beg of you, for your own sakes, tell no one that you've seen us."

  Lars looked shrewdly at Tris and the others. For the first time, the innkeeper took in their swords and the manner of both Kiara and Vahanian, which clearly spoke of battle training. "I take your meaning. There can be but one reason you've returned, my prince. And if there's aught that we can do to help you, just ask. All we have is at your service." With that pledge, Lars knelt, and his family also.

  "Please, rise," Tris said. "Tonight we're happier than you can know with a warm meal and a roaring fire. But now you know why I welcome your news and your rumors from the city-and why I'm anxious to hear what these minstrels have to tell us."

  "We'll leave you to your business," said Lars, motioning to his family. "If you need aught, just call. No one will bother you in here. I'll stay in the greatroom myself, to make sure."

  "Thank you," Tris said. "We're in your debt."

  "The prince himself, in my inn!" Lars murmured as he turned toward the door. He was still talking to himself in amazement as he left the kitchen. Tris sat, bidding the others to do the same. Vahanian took up a post at the greatroom door, while Gabriel moved closer to the outer door.

  "Can we trust him?" Kiara asked. She sat next to Tris as he motioned for the minstrels to gather round.

  Tris looked toward the door through which Lars had gone. "We have no reason not to, and every reason to believe him. He's right-where would we go, in this weather, that would be safer?"

  "You can trust Lars, my prince," said Helki. "If you want to know the truth of it, he's run something of a resistance out of this inn. It hasn't been safe for us to stay near the palace. Lars took us in- glad for the entertainment, no doubt, but watchful that when guards came, we could make ourselves scarce. Many times, Lars and his family have hidden people fleeing King Jared. Some of the palace staff, and not a few deserters from the army, have passed this way. They spread the word among themselves as to which are the safe houses, and they are spirited away, as if on a ghost carriage."

  Helki looked at his companions, whose expressions still reflected their utter amazement at seeing Tris and the others. "By the Mother and Childe! It's good to see you well, my prince."

  "What can you tell us about Shekerishet since we left?" Tris pressed.

  "Nothing good, Your Highness." It was Macaria who spoke up. Tris suppressed a smile, knowing that the dark-haired musician caught Carroway's eye. She seemed to be completely unaware of Carroway's attention, even now, when the minstrel watched her with unabashed joy. "I don't know how far news travels, or what you've heard, but it's been terrible."

  "Some of the bards have gone missing altogether," Macaria said. "Though whether dead or in hiding, I don't know. I've heard that Lady Eadoin is hiding some of the court musicians, the ones Jared particularly disliked. Eadoin's brother's family was killed for harboring fugitives. We managed to keep out of Jared's sights, but I've heard tell of minstrels who have been hanged for singing tales about King Bricen, or telling a story that raised Jared's ire. In the city, the king's guards are always prowling around, looking for someone to make an example of. They've beaten men in the street for telling jokes about the king, and dragged others out in the middle of the night for one 'crime' or another. No one ever sees the poor blokes again."

  "How is it you're here?" Carroway asked, and Tris noted that Carroway never took his eyes off Macaria as he spoke. She didn't seem to notice.

  "We left the city during the winter," Paiva said. "One step ahead of the guards. Since then, we've made what living we could singing for our keep in taverns, playing for our supper at the baker's and butcher's, and begging, if you want to know the truth of it." She sighed. "But there's been talk all Spring that something would be afoot at the Hawthorn Moon, and so we thought that with the crowds and all, we'd chance going back." Paiva grinned, and elbowed Carroway good-naturedly. "Looks like our pretty bird here has landed himself smack in the middle of a revolution!"

  "You don't know the half of it!" Carroway said. "But if you're game, and you're tired of Jared on the throne, there's a part you could play."

  "We're in," Helki said. "Anything to be rid of that bloody tyrant!"

  The group huddled around the table. "While Tris and the others do what they need to do," Carroway said, "I thought that perhaps Carina and I-with your help-could stir up a little riot or two in the city. There's another friend of ours, a hedge witch named Alyzza, who's headed this way as well. What do you think-can we work up a mob?"

  Macaria grinned wickedly. "Like that's a hard thing, with all the ale that'll be flowing?" The other bards laughed. '"Tis the Lady's truth-the only ones getting rich from Jared's rule are the barley growers and the rum smugglers, since any that haven't left the country drink to drown their sorrows."

  "Out here in the country, the songs I get the most requests for are the ones they'll hang you for in the city-the stories of King Bricen's battles, and of

  King Hotten's victory, and about the sorceress Bava K'aa," said Helki. "I dare say that might get a crowd going."

  Paiva snorted. "I can do you one better than that. Remember the songs we heard up in Ghorbal, the ballads about the maidens taken by the king's men, and the empty village with its ghosts? Had the biggest men in the room dabbing their eyes as they swilled their ale. I wager we could write a few more like that, to remind them what's been stolen
from them and get them in an ugly mood." The girl's lip curled into a devious smile. "I'll get to work on it."

  Helki looked at Tris. "My prince, you've got to be careful. King Jared's sorcerer is a demon. He's grown strong on blood these many months, like a big red spider. Even if you can take Shekerishet, how will you stop Arontala?"

  "He's a Summoner, he is," said Toby. Tris and the others looked up to see the innkeeper's son, who had been watching wide-eyed from near the fireplace. "Saw it myself, I did. Talked to the ghost that was busting up the place, and made him plain for all to see. Had a conversation with him, he did. Got robbed, poor bloke, and so I took word to his family the next day, to help him to his rest. He's a Summoner, by the Lady, he is!"

  "Really?" Macaria asked.

  "Do you remember the ballad we used to sing, about the ghosts of the Ruune Videya?" Carroway asked.

  Macaria gasped. "There were wild stories that the forest is no longer haunted. You mean they're true? How?"

  "You wouldn't really want to know," Vahanian said from his post near the door. "Trust me on that."

  "Tris did it-we were there. And that was before Tris trained with the Sisterhood," Carroway added. "He can handle Arontala."

  "My prince," Helki said. "We're honored to help with your return. We'll do as Carroway bids, and help you raise your diversion. I'd rather die fighting than spend the rest of my life running away."

  Macaria and Paiva murmured their agreement.

  "You may help to win the night," Tris said with a tired smile. "Carroway taught me a long time ago never to underestimate a bard!"

  "I don't mean to spoil the reunion," Kiara said, nudging Tris, "but it'll be daylight soon, and I think we might ride better with a little rest."

  "By your leave, my prince, we'll keep watch in the outer room," Helki offered. With Tris's nod, the minstrels took their leave.

  "I'll go with them," Carroway said, standing. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

  Tris looked at the others after the bards were gone. "Every time I hear us say aloud what we intend to do, it sounds too far-fetched to be possible. The damndest thing is, I haven't come up with a better idea."

  "That's what makes it brilliant," Kiara said. She found a chair with a back and drew it up near the fireplace, where the banked embers made a warm red heap in the center. "No one else will think we're crazy enough to pull off a stunt like that."

  "I really wish you wouldn't put it quite that way," Vahanian objected. He gladly gave up his post for

  Gabriel to stand watch, and stretched out on one of the empty tables with his cloak over him. Carina and Tris found tables or benches of their own, and drew up close to the hearth.

  "I've found that the Lady blesses the most unlikely of heroes," Gabriel observed from near the door. "Let's hope that Her blessing is on equally unlikely tactics."

  Tris echoed that hope as he drifted off to sleep, resolutely determined to enjoy a last night of warmth and safety before they reached the outskirts of the palace city.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  BY MID-MORNING, Tris and his friends left the Sparrow's Roost, with the innkeeper's pledge of secrecy and saddlebags full of wine and provisions. Helki and the minstrels promised to meet up with Carroway and Carina by the fourth bell on the night of the Hawthorn Moon in the Bristle Boar Inn, a favorite with local musicians. They set out, blending with the festival crowd, heading for Shekerishet. The rain was over, and the early summer days warmed considerably as the skies cleared. To avoid being conspicuous, Tris and the others split up the party as they rode. Tris and Carroway rode together ahead of the others. Kiara and Carina rode behind. Kiara bound up her long hair and secured it beneath a cap. She wore a man's tunic and pants that hid her figure well and made it unremarkable for her to carry a sword. Vahanian rode rear guard, on alert for trouble. They stuck to the

  back roads as much as they could. There were more travelers on the road than they had seen in other parts of Margolan, but not the crush of people Tris had expected so near the city just before a major festival.

  Trouble found them a day's ride outside the palace city. "Look there," Carroway noted under his breath as they rode, and Tris froze in his saddle. Six Margolan guardsmen rode toward them in the livery of the king, boisterously taking up more than their half of the road and crowding other travelers into the ditch. Tris struggled to relax as the guardsmen rode closer, dropping his head and turning his face to the side as the soldiers passed without a second glance.

  "What have we here?" one of the guards said as they rode toward Carina and Kiara. Without turning, Tris and Carroway slowed their mounts to narrow the gap between them and the women. When neither of Tris's companions replied the guard captain drew closer, matching the women's pace.

  "A pretty lady," another soldier said, sidestepping his horse to block Carina's path.

  Tris steeled himself not to turn. He let his mount slow further so that he could catch every word. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Carroway gripped his reins white-knuckled, anticipating a fight. "I'm a healer," Carina returned haughtily. "I've been summoned by a merchant in the city and I must not delay. Please move aside."

  "You've strange tastes in escorts, if you pick a beardless one like that," the third soldier said, still blocking the road.

  "We've been on duty for a long time," the captain said, moving closer to Carina. "The company of a lovely lady would be very much appreciated."

  "Move aside," Carina repeated, but the guards now blocked their way completely.

  "That's no soldier with her," one said suspiciously. "They're both wenches."

  The captain chuckled. "There's a clearing over there. Let's go." He drew his sword.

  Kiara's draw was lightning quick, blocking the captain's sword. Jae, on his way back from hunting, descended with a shriek, raking his talons across the soldier's face. At the sound of drawn steel, Tris and Carroway wheeled their horses. Vahanian galloped in from the rear, standing in his stirrups, sword aloft.

  "Ambush!" the captain cried, turning to deflect Tris's advance. Kiara battled the first soldier, and Vahanian drove at another hard enough to topple him from his horse as he struggled to parry. Carina pulled free her stave and went after Kiara's opponent from behind, beating at his head and shoulders. Carroway sank a throwing knife hilt deep into a guard's chest. Vahanian ran his opponent through and dispatched him with a slash across the throat.

  Vahanian made short work of a fifth guard just as Kiara's attacker was thrown from his panicked mount, trampling the downed soldier in its hurry to escape. Tris's opponent bore down on him with single-minded focus, fighting for his life now that his companions had fallen. With a two-handed swing, Tris maneuvered past the soldier's parry, scoring a blow that cleaved through the soldier's neck. The last guard launched himself at Tris with a wild cry. Tris barely got his blade up in time to block the strike. Tris knocked the blade aside and swung into a clean Eastmark kick, sending the guard stumbling into the path of Vahanian's sword.

  "Someone's bound to be by soon," Carroway hissed. "Let's get this mess cleaned up."

  Kiara was already dragging a body into the thicket at the edge of the road. Tris sent Carina to watch the road for danger as he and the others dragged the remaining bodies out of sight.

  "Not a bad kick," Vahanian commented as he wiped blood from his hands. "Not bad at all."

  Winded and sweating, Tris calmed his nervous horse. "A little too much practice lately, but thanks."

  Carina, shaken and pale, drove off the guardsmen's horses. Kiara, her expression grim, cleaned her sword and resheathed it. Carroway cut down a tree branch and began obscuring the blood on the road, masking the signs of struggle.

  "Those bodies won't stay hidden long," Vahanian said, resting his hands on his hips.

  "If we strip off the uniforms and take their purses, no one may think much of it," Carina said practically. "There're always bandits on the road when there's festival traffic."

  Vahanian
looked at her and grinned. "You're starting to think like a cutpurse. I like that in a woman."

  Carina ignored the jibe and began pulling off the dead guards' livery. Kiara and Tris joined her as Vahanian and Carroway stood guard. Within a few

  minutes, nothing remained to identify the dead men as soldiers.

  "That might buy us a little time," Carroway said. Carina stuffed the torn tunics into one of her saddlebags.

  "It would be a shame to hang for killing a soldier when we came to kill a king," Vahanian said dryly. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

  The group grew quiet as the day passed. They ran into no more problems as they neared the palace, doing their best to blend in among the crowds headed for the feast day. Tris's mood swung between anger and sadness as they rode. Under Bricen's rule, Margolan had been prosperous. Margolan boasted a large population of trades-people and merchants whose industry and income lifted them-if not up to noble standards of living-then well above the means of their counterparts in Isencroft, Trevath, and Nargi. Most of Margolan's farmers were freemen, taking pride in the small plots of lands and healthy herds they owned for themselves. Margolan had fewer sharecroppers and indentured servants than in either Trevath or Nargi, where such arrangements were often corrupt and indistinguishable from slavery. That meant that the debtors' prisons were relatively empty; those unfortunates who landed in jail could work their way free if they had the will and health to do so. Margolan's prosperity had also meant that its roads were generally safe from brigands and free of beggars. Bricen's disciplined troops had weeded out the highwaymen and cutpurses, while the acolytes of the Mother and Childe tended to the mendicants, taking in those who had nowhere else to go.