Wolfblade

by Jennifer Fallon

  chapter 35

  A

  lija’s still here in Greenharbour.”

  Kagan looked up from his desk with a frown. Tesha had dumped a pile of work on him that had accumulated in his absence and he was trying to dispose of as much of it as possible before he left for Warrinhaven. He glanced out of the window, surprised to see the sun quite low on the horizon. The decanter on his desk was empty, too. He must have been at it for hours.

  “Are you sure?” he asked his apprentice, stretching his shoulders painfully. I should teach a few of the secretaries to forge my signature and hand over my seal, he thought wistfully. That would cut down on the workload considerably.

  Wrayan flopped inelegantly into the seat opposite Kagan’s desk. “I ran into Tarkyn Lye in the Library.”

  “What’s a blind man doing in a library?” Kagan asked suspiciously.

  “Returning a scroll Alija borrowed, according to Tarkyn,” Wrayan said. “It was an interesting conversation, actually. He spent most of it trying to quiz me about what you were up to, while I subtly interrogated him about Alija’s movements.”

  “Who won?”

  “Neither of us, I fear. Did you know his mind is shielded?”

  “How could that be? Tarkyn Lye hasn’t got a magical bone in his body.”

  “Well, it’s Alija’s work, obviously. I wonder what he knows that she’s afraid somebody else will find out if they read his mind?”

  “Why don’t you read his mind and find out?”

  “I can’t,” Wrayan shrugged. “At least not without giving away that I’d been inside his head.”

  Kagan threw down his quill and leaned back in his chair. “Do you think he’s heard Lernen is leaving Greenharbour tomorrow?”

  “Oh, you can count on that, Kagan,” Wrayan confirmed. “And if Tarkyn Lye knows about it, you can bet Alija does.”

  “Damn!”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. Don’t suppose you’d like to distract her for me?”

  “How?”

  Kagan grinned at him with a mocking leer. “Be nice to her. A good wine . . . nice music . . . Barnardo’s probably back in Dregian and she’s always had a thing for you . . .”

  “Oh, you are so funny,” Wrayan replied without so much as a hint of a smile. “And the only reason Alija has a thing for me is because she’s afraid I’m stronger than she is and she’s itching to find out.”

  “Is she?”

  “Is she what?”

  “Stronger than you?”

  “How would I know?” Wrayan asked uncomfortably.

  “I don’t think she can be,” Kagan mused, quite seriously. “I suspect even a little bit of Harshini blood gives you far more power than an Innate.”

  “I’m not Harshini, Kagan.”

  “Of course you are, foolish boy. And don’t contradict me. I’m your master.”

  Wrayan ignored that one. “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea. The only thing I know for certain is that Alija cannot be allowed to learn the reason for Lernen’s visit to Warrinhaven. Or be in a position to follow us when we leave tomorrow.”

  “She’s not going to let you leave Greenharbour with Lernen unremarked. She’ll probably want to come along, too. At the very least, she’ll try to put a spy in Lernen’s retinue.”

  “Speaking of Lernen’s retinue,” Kagan asked, “got any bright ideas about how we get rid of them for a week or two? I don’t want our esteemed High Prince getting distracted and there’s not a chance in all seven hells of making it to Warrinhaven in time with a couple of dozen of his giggling courtiers in tow.”

  “Poison them,” Wrayan suggested.

  “Excuse me?”

  His apprentice smiled at the look on Kagan’s face. “I don’t mean fatally. Just arrange to have something put in the wine the first night out that makes them puke for a few days. Lernen will think it’s an assassination attempt and you’ll be able to bundle him out of the camp so fast, he won’t even ask where you’re taking him until you’re halfway to Warrinhaven.”

  Kagan stared at him. “You worry me sometimes, boy.”

  “You keep forgetting where I come from, Kagan.”

  “I think you keep forgetting where you are,” the sorcerer replied with a shake of his head. “Still, it’s a capital idea. Wish I’d thought of it, actually.”

  “Consider it my small contribution to the cause.”

  Kagan studied Wrayan curiously. “You don’t think we should be doing this, do you?”

  Wrayan hesitated before answering. “If you want my honest opinion, then no, I don’t think we should be doing anything like this at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?” Wrayan asked in disbelief. “Have you taken a close look at the man you’re so desperately trying to keep in power? I’ve been inside his head, Kagan. There’s not a thought in Lernen Wolfblade’s mind that isn’t fixed firmly on his own pleasure, and they’re pretty twisted pleasures at that, let me tell you. Do you know how often they carry slaves out of his rooms in sacks? This is a man who thinks drinking the milk of new mothers and the blood of young boys will make him more virile, for pity’s sake!”

  “How many slaves do you think he’s killed?” Kagan asked.

  “I don’t know.” Wrayan shrugged, throwing his hand up in disgust. “A score or two, maybe more.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “For what?”

  “For keeping Barnardo off the throne.”

  “I don’t see how he could be much worse than what we face now.”

  “You don’t? Then think about this. You are absolutely right about the High Prince. There’s not a single thought in Lernen Wolfblade’s mind that isn’t fixed firmly on his own pleasure. But the difference between Lernen and his cousin? Lernen doesn’t care about anything else. He’s not going to conquer anyone. He’s not going to declare war on anyone. He’s not even going to interfere when the Warlords have a dispute. Lernen doesn’t want to do anything but pursue his own pleasure and that’s just fine by me, because while he’s chasing his phony nymphs and his pretend Harshini and his fake gods and goddesses around his garden on the roof of the west wing for a bit of hanky-panky, I’ve got some seriously competent people running this country, making sure we stay safe and prosperous. Lernen is a figurehead, Wrayan, nothing more. He’s not the best figurehead we’ve ever had, but the alternative is far more disturbing.”

  “And for the vague hope of an heir some day who’ll be more than a pointless figurehead, you’ll entrust a third of the country’s military power and wealth to Laran Krakenshield?”

  “If my nephew fathers him, I’ll bet you any amount you want that the next High Prince of Hythria will be a man to be reckoned with.”

  “There’s a word for what you’re doing, Kagan.”

  “Nepotism?” he asked with a smile.

  “Treason was the word I was thinking of. And so was every man in that meeting in Cabradell, I might add, although none was game to say it aloud.”

  “It’s only treason if we fail, Wrayan.”

  Wrayan looked at his master with a raised brow. “And you accuse the Thieves’ Guild of having an ambiguous moral stance?”

  That was a charge Kagan couldn’t really defend, so he decided to change the subject. “What are we going to do about Alija?”

  “I don’t know,” Wrayan sighed, clearly unhappy that his pleas to stop propping up Lernen had fallen on deaf ears. “Distract her somehow, I suppose. And we won’t even repeat your earlier suggestion about me being involved.”

  “But it may be the only way,” Kagan said thoughtfully.

  “Kagan, not in a million years would Alija Eaglespike believe that I—”

  “No, you misunderstand me,” Kagan cut in. “What you said earlier is the plain truth. Alija’s interest in you has always been centred on whether or not she’s stronger than you. Maybe it’s time we found out.”

  “I ho
pe you’re not suggesting what I think you are, Kagan.”

  “You need to challenge her.”

  “Challenge her how? We’re sorcerers, Kagan, not Warlords calling each other out over an insult.”

  “We need to find a way to force Alija into confronting you.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we’ll see who’s the stronger. Provided you confront her at the same time I’m leaving Greenharbour with Lernen, she’ll be none the wiser about what’s happening in Warrinhaven.”

  “And suppose it turns out she’s stronger than me, after all?”

  “Then I imagine you’re going to have a headache that goes on for days.”

  “I should be so lucky. She could kill me, Kagan. Or worse, I might kill her. I don’t fancy having an angry Warlord on my tail for the rest of my days seeking vengeance for murdering his wife.”

  “Nobody is going to die and nobody will be seeking vengeance,” Kagan assured him. “Just call her out and see what happens.”

  “You still haven’t told me how, Kagan.”

  The High Arrion thought for a minute and then he smiled.

  “Tarkyn Lye,” he said confidently. “If there is one sure way to get to Alija Eaglespike, it’s through Tarkyn Lye.”

  chapter 36

  E

  lezaar’s fragile security came crashing down around his ears as he listened to Marla inform her slaves about the substance of Laran Krakenshield’s proposal. They were gathered in her small, cosy sitting room the following morning, the weather grey and uninviting outside, while the princess detailed the High Arrion’s unbelievable plan to rescue her from marriage to the King of Fardohnya by marrying her to the Warlord of Krakandar and Sunrise Provinces.

  As he listened, Elezaar felt that same sense of impending doom he’d experienced when Alija Eaglespike walked into Venira’s Emporium after Ronan Dell’s assassination. He wasn’t ready for this. While Elezaar had always known the chances were slim that Marla would be allowed to keep him after her marriage to Hablet, that event was months away yet. By then, he’d planned to make himself so valuable to her, so indispensable, that he would have been in a position to beg a favour of his mistress before she married. He could have asked her to send him somewhere safe. Give him as a gift, perhaps, to another household, far from Alija Eaglespike’s influence.

  Laran’s offer effectively ended any hope of that happening. If Marla accepted this offer, then she would marry within days and Elezaar would be right back where he was the day he watched Alija’s soldiers slaughter everybody—including his brother—in Ronan Dell’s palace.

  “You can’t be thinking of accepting him!” Lirena cried, when Marla finished telling them what Laran had offered her, echoing exactly what Elezaar felt.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re already promised to Hablet of Fardohnya!” the old nurse reminded her. “You can’t go back on your word.”

  “I didn’t actually give my word, Lirena,” Marla pointed out. “In fact, I wasn’t even asked about it.”

  “Nevertheless, Lirena has a point, your highness,” Corin said, siding firmly with the nurse. It wasn’t hard to figure out why, Elezaar thought. He was Alija’s creature and Laran Krakenshield’s offer would stop the Patriot Faction’s plans dead in their tracks. He could do nothing else but try to dissuade Marla from accepting Laran.

  Which meant—by default—Elezaar had no choice but to take the opposite argument.

  “I think it’s a brilliant idea,” he announced, after Corin and Lirena had voiced their objections.

  Marla turned to him with a puzzled look. “Why?”

  Picking up her wine from the hearth where it had been warming, he walked across to her chair and handed it to her with a short bow. “For one thing, it means you won’t have to marry Hablet.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean her highness wants to replace him with another unwanted husband,” Corin countered. “Laran Krakenshield is merely a Warlord. Hablet is a king. She’ll be much better off in Fardohnya.”

  “Whose side are you on, Corin?” Elezaar demanded. “Her highness doesn’t belong in some foreign harem with a bunch of bored wives and court’esa all trying to claw their way over her for supremacy. She deserves much better than that.”

  He glanced at Marla out of the corner of his eye as he spoke, hoping the mental image he conjured up of a harem full of enemies would be enough to persuade the young princess. Although marriage to Laran was a looming danger, at least Laran Krakenshield had promised her she’d be allowed to keep one court’esa if she went with him. And she had to believe Elezaar was the only one who understood her plight. He was gambling on the fact that if she chose Laran, and Corin opposed the union, it wouldn’t be the handsome young court’esa who left Highcastle with his mistress tomorrow.

  Marla sipped her wine thoughtfully as the slaves argued around her, apparently putting his lessons to good use. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking these days, when she set her mind to it.

  “Whose side are you on, little man?” Corin asked. “You’re encouraging the princess to renege on a deal her brother made and bring dishonour to Hythria and the entire Wolfblade House.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think my brother spends a lot of time agonising over the honour of the Wolfblades,” Marla remarked. “Or Hythria.”

  “The whole thing reeks, if you ask me,” Lirena grumbled.

  Elezaar thought carefully before he spoke again, glancing cautiously at Corin. The handsome court’esa had been rather full of himself since Marla decided to make use of his services—as if sharing her bed had somehow elevated him in the pecking order. Elezaar thought it high time the young man realised that being useful in bed didn’t make one particularly useful anywhere else. The dwarf had tied himself in knots befriending and instructing the princess since he’d come to Highcastle and no pretty-boy spy of Alija Eaglespike’s was going to stand in the way of his secure future. Not now. Not when it was so close he could almost taste it.

  But he had to be subtle. Cautious. Marla could be a petulant child at times, but she was whip-smart when the mood took her and not easily swayed by flattery. The truth, Elezaar decided, was the only way to win this argument. Corin couldn’t fight that.

  “There’s a lot of very powerful people in Hythria who don’t wish Princess Marla’s wedding to Hablet to go ahead,” Elezaar told Corin, although his words were meant for the princess. “I’m not in the least bit surprised that some have come up with a way to prevent it. And Lord Krakenshield said the High Prince would be waiting at Warrinhaven. One assumes that if he’s involved, then the plan is legitimate.”

  “I suppose the real question here is how much you trust Laran Krakenshield,” Corin said.

  “What do you mean?” Marla asked.

  “Well, the man’s obviously got ambitions far beyond your hand in marriage, your highness. If you ally yourself with him and he fails, you’ll be guilty of treason, too.”

  “Fails in what?” Elezaar scoffed. “The man wants to marry our mistress, Corin, that’s all. Hardly the stuff of treason.”

  “That’s what he wants today,” the court’esa countered. “But once he’s married to the High Prince’s sister, what then? How long before he starts eyeing off the throne?”

  Marla looked at the two of them, shaking her head. “Laran suggested nothing of the sort. You’re both mad!”

  Elezaar turned to the princess with a grin. “Actually, probably only one of us is mad, your highness. Your job is to decide who.”

  She turned to her nurse, searching for some hint that would help her make the hardest decision of her life, but all Lirena could do was shrug helplessly. “Don’t look at me, lass. I don’t know what you should do.”

  “And you, Corin? You obviously think I should marry Hablet.”

  “Yes, your highness. I think you should honor the agreement your brother made months ago in Greenharbour. Otherwise we could be facing a war with Fardohnya.”

  She
sipped her wine, her brows drawn together thoughtfully, before turning to the dwarf. “And you, Elezaar? You seem to think I should accept the offer Lord Krakenshield has made.”

  “I don’t think it’s an offer, your highness.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If your brother is waiting at Warrinhaven for you, then there’s no crown awaiting you in Fardohnya any more. I think Lord Krakenshield made you an offer because he wants to give you the illusion that you have some control over your fate. What’s more, I suspect if you deny him, it will make little difference. There are some powerful people behind this, my lady. They won’t take kindly to you defying them.”

  “So you don’t think it matters what I decide?”

  “Not in the slightest. I think this was decided some time ago and a long way from here.”

  “That’s silly!” Corin declared. “Why ask the princess if she has no choice?”

  Elezaar shrugged. “Maybe he’s just being nice.”

  “Do you think so, Elezaar?” Marla asked, full of hope. Even if she had no choice, the idea that the man she was being forced to marry had at least some basic human decency in him was something she needed to cling to.

  “He’s a Warlord,” Corin reminded them. “Nice isn’t a word you use a lot when describing the highborn. Particularly not a Warlord.”

  “Glenadal Ravenspear was always nice to me. He was a Warlord.”

  Marla sounded a little hurt. And she was starting to get annoyed at Corin. That augured well for Elezaar’s future. If he kept this up, Corin had no chance of being the one she chose to take with her to Warrinhaven.

  “And Laran Krakenshield is the man Lord Ravenspear chose to succeed him, your highness,” Elezaar reminded her. “I think you’d be well served remembering that.”

  Marla nodded absently, taking another sip of the mulled wine. Elezaar wished he had some magical power, some way of reading her thoughts. Better yet, some way of influencing them.