“I bring greetings from my father, the Warlord of Elasapine.”
“And I return the greeting gladly,” Frederak assured the young lord. “But what brings Lord Hawksword’s son this far south in the dead of winter?”
“Manoeuvres,” Nash informed him with a careless shrug. “Just keeping the troops on their toes. You know what winter lethargy can do to an army. Laran and I thought it would do the lads some good to march them through the snow for a bit.”
“You have Lord Krakenshield with you?” Kaul asked in surprise. His face was suddenly alight with anticipation. Everyone knew he was itching to join the Sunrise Raiders, but his father had denied him permission, claiming that as heir to Highcastle, it was inappropriate for Kaul to become a mercenary, even if it was for Highcastle’s liege lord.
“And several thousand Raiders. Thought we might ride up into the pass and take a look around.”
Frederak looked panicked. “My lord, while I appreciate your need to keep your troops active, don’t you think marching them into the pass is a little . . . provocative?”
“How so?” Nash asked.
“We are currently enjoying a rare period of stability in this region. The bandits are at an all-time low. The trade is flowing freely and therefore so are the customs levies. Is it wise to damage this current state of prosperity just to give the troops of a neighbouring province a bit of exercise?”
“I’m sure the Fardohnyans will take our manoeuvres in the spirit they’re intended, Frederak.”
“And Lord Krakenshield? Is he planning to visit us?”
“Of course!” Nash assured him. “He wanted to come with me this evening, actually, but I told him it was patently unfair of a new Warlord to arrive at his vassal’s door unannounced so I volunteered to come and warn you that he’ll be here in a day or so. You’ll want to get the estate books ready, I suppose. Laran likes to look at that sort of thing.”
Frederak’s relief was evident. “I appreciate the warning, Lord Hawksword. We’d heard Glenadal Ravenspear was killed some weeks ago, of course. Unfortunately, due to the inclement weather at the time, we weren’t able to attend the funeral in Cabradell.”
“I’m sure Lady Jeryma appreciated your predicament,” Nash assured him.
“Lord Krakenshield intends to keep Sunrise Province, then?” Marla asked curiously, thinking of a recent discussion she’d had with Elezaar when they’d first got the news about Glenadal Ravenspear. The dwarf was of the opinion that Laran would probably refuse the bequest. At least, he should refuse it—if he intended to keep his head on his shoulders.
“Of course he is,” Nash replied. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Civil war?” Marla suggested.
Frederak looked at her in alarm. “Why should it cause a civil war?”
“Because he’s already a Warlord,” Marla told him, bringing a surprised look from the men in the room. “The Convocation will never allow one man to hold two provinces.”
“Please elaborate,” Frederak commanded, just a little put out by Marla’s outspokenness.
Marla happily obliged, thinking that all the boring things Elezaar had been making her learn lately, like history and government and economics, were really very useful. And she so desperately wanted to impress Nash with her new-found grasp of all things political.
“Being Warlord of two provinces makes him the most potentially dangerous man in Hythria,” Marla told the men in a lecturing tone. “The other Warlords will never accept such a concentration of power. With that sort of power behind him, he could take over the whole country if he wanted. He doesn’t have a son, does he?”
“Not that I know of,” Frederak told her, considering her analysis. “Would it make a difference?”
“The difference between life and death, I imagine. If he had a son, he’d be expendable. The child would be nominated his heir and taken to a place of safety while they obliterate the father, who immediately gets relegated to the ranks of just another power-hungry fool who must be eliminated.”
“When did you become such an expert on the Warlords?” Braun asked from his place by the fire. He hadn’t moved from the rug, even to greet Nash when he arrived.
“I’m inclined to ask the same question, your highness,” Nash said, looking at her with new respect.
“I’ve been studying,” Marla explained, thrilled to think she had impressed Nash with her reading of the situation.
“And what does your father think of all this, Lord Hawksword?” Frederak asked. “Is he lining up with the other Warlords, as my niece expects, to put an end to Laran Krakenshield’s ambitions?”
Nash smiled. “He’s concerned that one or other of the Warlords might attempt an incursion into Fardohnya for slaves to boost his wealth in the face of the coming troubles.”
“Hence your arrival at Highcastle unannounced with several thousand troops?” Frederak smiled knowingly. “Are you really here for manoeuvres, my lord? Or to protect the border?”
Nash smiled. “You’ve found us out, my lord.”
“Are your troops here, my lord?”
“No. They’re camped across the river just outside Dakin’s Rest.” Nash laughed. “We didn’t want you thinking I was invading you, Frederak!”
“But you’ll stay here until morning, won’t you, my lord?” Marla asked anxiously. “Surely you don’t intend to ride all the way back to Dakin’s Rest tonight?”
“I’d be delighted to accept a warm bed for the night if there’s one on offer,” Nash agreed.
“Of course you’re invited to stay, Lord Hawksword!” Frederak gushed, suddenly embarrassed. “Please, you must think me so remiss as a host! And I’ve not even offered you refreshment! Can I get you anything? Food? Wine?”
“Wine would be good,” Nash said. “Mulled preferably.”
“Of course, my lord. I’ll see to it at once.”
Frederak hurried off to arrange Nash’s accommodation for the night and his mulled wine, leaving the Warlord’s son with Marla and her two cousins. He ignored Kaul and Braun in favour of Marla.
“Perhaps while I’m here, you and I could have a word in private, your highness?” Nash asked with an innocent smile.
Marla’s pulse began to race. I was right! He really is here to rescue me!
“I would be delighted, my lord.”
He took Marla’s hand and raised it to his lips once more. “Then I shall not sleep in anticipation of seeing you again.”
Marla felt her face grow warm and feared she was blushing. With a curtsey and some banal rejoinder she couldn’t even recall a minute later, she excused herself and fled the hall.
Once in the chilly corridor outside, Marla picked up her skirts and took the stairs to her chamber on the floor above, two at a time. She ran down the hall to her rooms, her breath a frosty mist in her wake. She threw the door open to find Lirena sitting by the fire and Elezaar and Corin playing chess. They all looked up expectantly.
“Lirena! Elezaar! It’s time for you to retire.”
All three of them knew better than to argue with their mistress when she started throwing orders around. Muttering unhappily, Lirena packed her knitting away while Corin moved the chessboard, with its game still in progress, to the table under the window.
“Goodnight, your highness,” Elezaar said, as he waddled out of the room with his comical gait. Lirena was only a few steps behind him, however she offered no farewell. She merely scowled at Marla, obviously annoyed that she was being sent from the princess’s cosy chambers to her own, far less comfortable—and much colder—quarters on the floor above.
“Not you, Corin,” Marla ordered, as the court’esa made to follow his companions.
“Your highness?” he replied with a puzzled frown.
Marla closed the door on the other two and leaned against it. “I need you here tonight.”
“But I promised the Lady Ninane—”
“I don’t care what you promised Ninane. You’re my court’esa. I want you here.�
�
“For what, exactly?” he asked with the faintest hint of a mocking smile.
Despite all her protestations to the contrary, Marla knew Corin thought her reluctance to use his services was based on fear and not her stated intention of being uncooperative. “I need you to teach me.”
“Teach you what?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Circumstances have changed, Corin. I believe my future is about to change radically, too.” Marla hesitated, thinking of everything Nash had said in the Hall. The Princess Marla stole my heart. Could I have a word in private, your highness? I shall not sleep in anticipation of seeing you again tomorrow.
It could mean only one thing.
And, Marla had just realised in a panic, she was totally unprepared for it.
“I have decided I require the skills you can teach me, after all,” she declared, stepping away from the door. “And I’m going to need them before tomorrow morning.”
Corin smiled. “I am at your service, your highness.”
Marla didn’t care for his tone one bit. “You’re damn right you are,” she warned. “And you’d better be worth every penny Lady Alija paid for you.”
“I believe, your highness,” Corin assured her confidently, “you’ll find you have little to complain about in the morning.”
“All right, then,” Marla said, looking about the room, a little uncertain about what should happen next. “Where do we start?”
chapter 33
K
agan thought up any number of ways of getting Lernen to Warrinhaven for his sister’s wedding during the journey south to Green-harbour. Most of the plans he came up with he abandoned almost as soon as he thought of them. Given the limited time he had to convince Lernen to accompany him north—which was about a day if they were going to get to Warrinhaven on time—there was really only one sure way of doing it.
The problem, of course, was if a single soul suspected Lernen’s mind had been tampered with, it wouldn’t matter what happened afterwards. The Warlords would tear the Sorcerers’ Collective down rather than risk such a thing happening.
For their own protection, the Collective took great pains to spread the notion among the general population that a sorcerer would rather die than invade an unwilling mind. Kagan had also done much to encourage the belief that if a person simply refused to cooperate, it provided even the uninitiated with a solid mind block that could not be penetrated without the victim being aware of it—the irony being that there were probably only two sorcerers alive who even owned the skill. That wouldn’t matter, however, if he was found out in this little escapade. Learning the High Prince had been so easily corrupted would destroy all his hard work in an instant.
It wasn’t just his own life at risk, either. If anybody realised just how easy it was for someone like Wrayan to slip into another’s mind, particularly a weak mind like Lernen Wolfblade’s, they would demand the young sorcerer be put to death. Kagan suspected Alija Eaglespike owned a similar talent. She was an Innate, after all, and it would account for the reason Barnardo was so pliable in her hands. Fortunately, Innates with telepathic ability usually needed physical contact with the subject before they could scan their minds. But Alija would never reveal the limits (or lack of them) of her ability, for exactly the same reason Wrayan was so coy about it.
Kagan decided not to visit the palace immediately, once he returned home. It wasn’t that he had the time to spare. He didn’t. It was just there were things that needed his attention at the Sorcerers’ Collective and he didn’t want to give the impression that he had only returned to the capital to collect the High Prince. It would raise enough eyebrows as it was, Lernen suddenly leaving the city. Kagan had no wish to contribute to the rumours by letting people think he was the reason behind the High Prince’s hasty departure. Kagan needed to be summoned to the palace and ordered to accompany Lernen to Warrinhaven. Everybody in the city had to believe the High Arrion was going along with the High Prince against his will.
After deciding the only way to do this without implicating himself or Wrayan was to set the wheels in motion before they arrived, Kagan instructed his apprentice to seek out Lernen’s mind while they were still two days north of Greenharbour. He was both relieved and a little disturbed to discover, even from a hundred miles away, Wrayan was able to seek out the High Prince and lock onto his thoughts.
“He’s building a garden,” Wrayan announced. The young man sat cross-legged by the camp fire, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed, his fire-lit face a portrait of concentration.
“Why a garden?” Kagan asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them. He hated sleeping outdoors, but couldn’t risk anybody witnessing this strange scene. There was a perfectly good inn a mere five miles from the secluded camp site Wrayan had found for them. Maybe later, Kagan thought. I’m going to need a drink before this night is done, I think.
“When did Lernen get interested in botany?”
“It’s more like a zoo,” Wrayan corrected without opening his eyes. “He wants to stock it with creatures of legend. Nymphs and gods and Harshini.”
“Really?” Kagan asked with sigh. “And where is he planning to get these nymphs and gods and Harshini?”
“He’s going to use . . . Gods, Kagan, this is like wading through a sewer.” Wrayan took a deep breath before he continued. “He’s going to find young men and women . . . slaves, I think . . . beautiful slaves . . . and have them dress up as Harshini and gods and whatever else his twisted little heart desires. He wants them to pretend. I think he’s trying to duplicate the legendary sexual prowess of the lost races. Or get a taste of it, at any rate.” Wrayan fell silent for a time, then cursed softly under his breath. “I think he’s trying to find a way to stain their eyes black, too, but the last few experiments with dye blinded the slaves he tried it on, so he’s looking for another answer.”
Wrayan opened his eyes and stared balefully at Kagan. “Are we really risking everything to keep this idiot on the throne?”
Kagan didn’t answer immediately, wondering if Wrayan realised his own eyes had turned completely black as the young sorcerer drew the power he needed to reach Lernen’s mind from such a distance. There was no doubt in Kagan’s mind any longer. Wrayan was Harshini, whether he wanted to be or not.
“Idiot he may be, Wrayan, but his time will pass. In the meantime, the damage Lernen can do as High Prince is far less than the damage a High Prince with an ambitious Innate sorcerer for a wife is capable of. Lernen is merely the lesser of two evils, I’m afraid.”
“Have you considered getting rid of both of them? Anarchy is looking quite attractive from where I sit if the choice is between Lernen Wolfblade and Barnardo Eaglespike.”
Kagan smiled thinly. “I’m sure it does. Can you actually influence Lernen’s thoughts from this distance, or just read them?”
“I can influence him. I just suggested he order more wine, and he did it, so I shouldn’t have a problem getting him to do anything else you want.”
Kagan thought on the problem and then nodded. “Plant the idea in his mind that Murvyn Rahan has the prettiest slaves on all of Hythria. Make him believe he has to go to Warrinhaven himself to select them.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, it would be nice if you could suggest he needs the High Arrion along for company on his trip to Warrinhaven. But we’ll add that idea to his thoughts once we’re in Greenharbour.”
Wrayan was briefly silent and then he opened his eyes. They had returned to their normal colour. “Done.”
“Just like that?”
“What did you expect?”
Kagan shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I just can’t get used to seeing someone wield magic without reciting a spell.”
“Honouring Zymelka, you mean?” Wrayan asked with a smile.
“What?”
“It’s just something Dacendaran said to me.”
Kagan shook his head in wonde
r. “Listen to you, talking about your conversations with the gods as if it’s an everyday occurrence.”
“For a while there, it was.”
Kagan looked at him curiously. “Have you seen any gods lately?”
“Not since we left Greenharbour.”
“Well, I suppose we should call it a night,” Kagan said, settling against his saddle which he was using as a back rest. “Do you want me to take the first watch?”
“Wouldn’t you be happier if we saddled up and headed into that village we passed just before sunset?”
“That would add an hour to our journey in the morning.”
“I know,” Wrayan agreed with a smile. “But your joints won’t be aching in the morning if you sleep in a proper bed, which means you might be almost bearable company.”
“You’d travel ten miles out of your way, just to put me in a good mood?”
“I’d walk across Hythria barefoot, if need be. Some things are just too precious to put a price on, Kagan.”
The following evening, Kagan and Wrayan repeated the same exercise as the night before. In a secluded camp site some way off the main road to Green-harbour, Wrayan penetrated Lernen’s mind, reinforcing the notion that the only place in all of Hythria he was likely to find slaves of the right quality for his Harshini garden was in Murvyn Rahan’s slave stables at Warrinhaven.
This time there was no village close by to take shelter in once they were done, so Kagan suffered an uncomfortable night on the ground. At first light the following day, they could see Greenharbour’s white walls in the distance and the glitter of the distant harbour beyond.
It was mid-morning by the time they cantered through the gates of the city. The Sorcerers’ Collective’s soldiers, smart and efficient in their silver tunics, saluted as the High Arrion and his apprentice rode under the portcullis. Kagan paused to have a word with the captain in charge of the gate detail and then rode on through the city to the Collective.
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