Wolfblade

by Jennifer Fallon

  “Where’s the harm in it? They won’t hurt her. All they want is gold. They’ll take her over the border, keep her locked up for a bit and wait for Laran to cough up the ransom. Even if they find out she’s not Marla, what’s the worst they could do? They’ll probably just ask for a smaller ransom.”

  “You’re mad, Darilyn.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t expect you to do anything that might upset dear brother Laran, anyway,” she said scathingly. “And the gods know, we mustn’t ever do anything to harm poor little Riika.”

  He shook his head, as if he was shaking away the temptation. “It would never work. Laran would find out we were involved. He’d know.”

  “Not if we were careful.”

  “But what if you’re wrong? What if something happened to Riika?”

  “It would break my heart,” Darilyn replied unsympathetically.

  “I won’t do it.”

  “Fine.”

  “I mean it, Darilyn. I refuse to be a party to anything so treacherous.”

  “You said that already.”

  “She’s our own flesh and blood, for the gods’ sake!”

  “Fat lot of good that did either of us when Glenadal died.”

  That hurt. Darilyn knew it, too.

  “I won’t do it,” Mahkas repeated, as much to himself as his sister.

  “As you wish.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  Darilyn smiled coldly. She could tell he was weakening; trying to convince himself, not her.

  “You’re probably right,” she agreed, shifting her embroidery basket to the other side. “It’s not something either of us would seriously contemplate.”

  Mahkas breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But hypothetically speaking,” Darilyn added thoughtfully, “how much do you think we could get for someone the Fardohnyans believe is Marla Wolfblade?”

  chapter 47

  T

  he departure of Marla’s husband for the fortress at Winternest gave Elezaar the opportunity to relax. He didn’t like Laran Krakenshield, not because of anything he’d done to Elezaar in particular; the Warlord was quite civilised in his dealings with his wife’s court’esa. It was the influence he could see Laran gaining over his mistress that concerned the dwarf.

  Laran was the sort of man others instinctively turned to. People sought his good opinion without even realising they were doing it and Marla was no more immune to his personality than any other courtier. With Laran Krakenshield as her husband, with him guiding and aiding Marla as she matured, Elezaar could already foresee a time when he would become superfluous.

  Having gone to all this trouble to ingratiate himself into Marla’s confidence—the effort he’d expended getting rid of Corin, all the work it had taken to convince Marla she couldn’t decide anything without first seeking his counsel—well, the last thing he needed was for her to start getting attached to her husband. The strength of Elezaar’s relationship with Marla lay in her belief that she had no more true and loyal friend in the world than her court’esa.

  Unfortunately for Elezaar, Laran had proved to be much less daunting than he’d hoped. He didn’t mistreat his young wife or force himself on her. Marla had been treated like the royalty she was since arriving in Cabradell. Her every whim was catered to. Her every request treated like a royal decree. Foods she liked had been brought in especially from the coast, her dislikes banished from the palace menus. Her sorcerer-bred mount had been brought from Highcastle and stabled in his own private accommodation. Her nurse had been given the status of a senior slave in the household. Marla had more clothes than she’d ever dreamed of owning and a steady stream of visitors who came to kneel before her and swear their fealty to her and to her husband. Even her mother-in-law, Jeryma Ravenspear—reputedly one of the most fearsome and powerful women in all of Hythria—had bent over backwards to make Marla feel welcome, and now Laran was promising to return from Winternest with his sister, Riika, a young woman the same age as Marla (who, if you believed the gossips around the palace, was the sweetest and most likeable creature the gods had ever breathed life into) so that Marla would have a friend her own age to keep her company.

  Elezaar’s job would have been much easier, he decided peevishly, if they’d been sent to Fardohnya, after all. At least there, surrounded by enemies, Marla would have needed a friend.

  Still, things were not all roses and cream. Laran treated Marla with due deference, but they had little in common other than their mutual desire to produce an heir for Hythria. Laran didn’t take the time to find out if Marla was interested in anything else, leaving her to her own devices each day, with nothing but her mother-in-law and the women of Jeryma’s court to entertain her.

  Marla very quickly grew bored and frustrated by the assumption that she was good for nothing but lounging around the palace. And it was clear that Laran’s belief that she was neither interested nor capable of taking an active part in the governance of his realm did not stem from the misogyny so common among the ruling men of Hythria. Jeryma had an enormous say in the running of Sunrise and Laran frequently spoke of the plans he had for Riika when he brought her back from Winternest, leaving his wife with no choice but to conclude that Laran’s assumption that her purpose was purely decorative was because he thought her incompetent.

  She sought Elezaar’s advice, and he told her to do nothing, assuring her that things would get better once people got to know her better. In truth, he was afraid that if Marla mentioned her concern to Laran, he would immediately see the error of his ways and offer to involve his young wife more closely in his affairs. Elezaar couldn’t risk that happening. He had no doubt that Marla was more than capable of taking on such a role, but he simply couldn’t risk her finding her feet so soon. His safety lay in her uncertainty. The last thing he needed was Marla discovering that her opinion carried weight. Or worse, spending so much time with her husband that respect turned to admiration, or like turned into love.

  Women in love had a bad habit of sending their court’esa away.

  Jeryma didn’t like him, Elezaar knew, but for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, she left him alone and didn’t try to discourage Marla from keeping his company. He was often called upon to entertain the ladies of her court with poems or comedic recitals which always left them in peals of laughter and reinforced the idea that he was a Fool. Marla didn’t approve of him playing the Fool for the entertainment of Jeryma’s court, thinking it demeaning for him. Elezaar almost cried when she told him that. No master he had ever known had cared that he was being humiliated. Some of them had owned him for that purpose. His affection for his young mistress solidified into a deep and abiding love that day and he was determined never to be separated from her, no matter what it took.

  “Elezaar!”

  The dwarf climbed down from the window seat in the sitting room and hurried into the courtyard in answer to his young mistress’s summons. Like Lady Jeryma’s quarters, Marla had a small private courtyard with a high wall surrounding it just outside her suite of rooms. It was sheltered from the wind, with a small fountain in the corner, so Marla frequently ate breakfast in the open air, a novelty she was unused to after a lifetime in the mountains.

  “Your highness?”

  Marla looked up from her breakfast and pushed the plate away unenthusiastically. She was wearing a light robe against the chill, a priceless purple silk dressing gown threaded with something that looked suspiciously like real gold filament. The wealth of these people—and their casual acceptance of it—left Elezaar gasping at times.

  “Is the food not to your liking, your highness?”

  Marla frowned. “I always worry about how fresh the fish is here. We’re a long way from the coast.”

  “Perhaps the fish comes from one of the nearby rivers?”

  “It’s blue-finned arlen,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s a saltwater creature. I don’t know how they get it here before it turns rancid.”

  “Snow,” Elezaar
explained.

  “Snow?”

  “They bring the catch into Greenharbour from the far southern waters of the Dregian Ocean, move it north as fast as they can, and then pack it into snow-filled wagons for the rest of the trip here. Most of it melts by the time they reach Cabradell, but what’s left of the snow gets tipped into the cisterns in the palace to help cool the water.”

  “How do you know all these things, Elezaar?” she asked with a puzzled look. “I swear, you have an answer for everything.”

  “I listen, your highness. And I learn.”

  “Aren’t you breaking your own rules?” she asked with a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rule Number Thirteen? Doesn’t it say you should never appear too bright or too clever?”

  “Actually, I was applying the Seventh Rule.”

  She thought for a moment before she replied, obviously trying to recall what Rule Number Seven was. “Make others seek your aid? I wasn’t seeking your aid.”

  “No, but by making you believe I have an answer for everything, who else are you going to turn to?” Elezaar could always make Marla laugh and it concerned him a little when all she did was smile distantly. “Is something wrong, your highness?”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re not unwell, are you?”

  “No.”

  “But something is amiss.”

  She hesitated then blurted out, “How will I know when I’m pregnant, Elezaar?”

  He stared at her curiously. “Do you think you might be?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve been sharing a bed with Lord Krakenshield for nearly three months now,” he reminded her. “One can safely assume he’s been diligently undertaking the necessary steps to create our next High Prince?”

  She laughed this time. “One could safely assume that, yes.”

  “Then you might well be, your highness. When was your last bleed?”

  “About three weeks ago.”

  “Then it’s far too early to tell.”

  “But aren’t there other symptoms? Aren’t I supposed to get sick?”

  “Not all women get morning sickness. Some get tender breasts, some get no symptoms at all until their belly starts to swell.” He glanced at her discarded plate and nodded in understanding. “Let me guess. You couldn’t bear the thought of fish for breakfast this morning and wondered if that meant you were pregnant?”

  “Something like that.”

  He patted her hand comfortingly. “You’re young and healthy, your highness. There’s no need to fret just yet.”

  “If I’m not with child, then I hope Laran’s not away too long,” she sighed.

  “Are you now so committed to your husband’s cause that you’ve become a willing participant?”

  “I’m bored, Elezaar. At the very least, a child will give me something to do.”

  Elezaar bit back the temptation to remark that no poor woman ever thought such a thing. Instead he smiled, looking for a way to distract her. “We could resume our lessons until your husband returns, my lady.”

  “To what purpose, Elezaar?” she asked miserably. “Nobody cares if I know anything other than how to spread my legs.”

  “A game, then,” he suggested brightly.

  “What game?”

  “How about . . . ‘If I Was Ruling My Own Province’?”

  “That’s not a game.”

  “We could make it one,” he said. “We’ll use the chess pieces and rename them. Laran would be the king. You could be the queen. Captain Tollin would be a knight. Captain Almodavar the other one.”

  “Lady Jeryma’s the queen around here,” she pointed out with a frown.

  “Very well. You could be the tower then.”

  “And Laran’s precious little Riika can be the other tower,” she added.

  “That’s the idea! Lord Kagan and Lady Tesha would be the bishops . . .”

  “And the people of Sunrise would be the pawns.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea! You think about who the opposing pieces are going to be and I’ll fetch the board.”

  Elezaar hurried out of the courtyard to get the chess set, thinking this was a wonderful way to keep her amused, educate her and play on her fears all at the same time while Laran was away. He even felt a little guilty for doing it.

  It was unfortunate, but Elezaar’s security lay in Marla’s insecurity. Perhaps, after she had her child, he would be able to establish himself as teacher and confidant to the next High Prince of Hythria.

  Maybe then, Elezaar decided, he would finally be safe.

  chapter 48

  D

  arilyn’s foul mood eased up a little after a few days. The boys tiptoed around her, terrified of incurring their mother’s wrath. After a few days, however, with the preternatural understanding common to all children, they worked out who had the real power in the family. It took them very little time to discover Laran could (and would) overrule Darilyn if they asked nicely, so they started going to him for permission to play outside or go over to the northern keep to play with the children of the merchants and customs officials who lived there. Laran wouldn’t authorise an excursion outside the walls of the keep, however, even when they tried begging, unless Darilyn agreed to it, so they appealed to Riika to intervene on their behalf to take them to the stream to see if the ice had started to thaw yet.

  Much to Riika’s surprise, Darilyn agreed readily to the notion. Riika figured she was getting sick of the boys underfoot and was glad of the chance to be free of them for the day. Raek Harlen agreed to accompany them and arranged for a squad to escort Riika and the boys to the stream. It had iced over completely early in the winter and both Travin and Xanda were concerned about what might happen to the old pike who lived there, whom they had unofficially adopted as a pet.

  Everything was set to go, when, at the last minute, Mahkas ordered his lieutenant and two-thirds of the squad back to the keep and offered to escort Riika and the boys himself. Travin and Xanda were thrilled by the notion their beloved Uncle Mahkas was coming on their picnic, although Riika was a little disappointed. She liked Raek Harlen, much more than she probably should, considering she was the daughter of a Warlord and he was just a Raider, albeit the son of a minor noble. She’d been looking forward to spending the day with him, having him help her up the slope or catch her when she stumbled. Mahkas would do the same for her, of course, and just as willingly, but it wasn’t the same as having a handsome young Raider at her beck and call.

  “Why so glum?” Mahkas asked, as they followed the boys up the western slope of the mountain away from the southern keep on the Fardohnyan side of the castle. The border itself was a few miles further west, right in the Widowmaker Pass. Travin and Xanda were shouting excitedly as they ran on ahead, their cries echoing over the steep mountain slopes.

  “Was I looking glum?”

  “Like your best friend just died.”

  “I was just thinking about something.”

  “Well, cheer up,” Mahkas ordered. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  Riika smiled. “I hope you remember that when you have to wade into an icy stream to fetch one of your nephews out of it. And when you have to explain to Darilyn afterwards why her boys are wet and freezing to death.”

  “Now you’re spoiling my day.”

  “You didn’t have to come, Mahkas.”

  “I wanted a day off. Laran’s here. Let him deal with all the insanity that goes along with running Winternest for a day and see how he likes it.”

  “He says you’ve done a good job,” Riika told him, hoping to cheer her brother a little. For a man supposedly on a family picnic, he was rather morose.

  “Does he? He never told me that.”

  “Laran wants you to stay here in command of Winternest,” she pointed out, puffing a little with the exertion of negotiating the snowy slope. “Doesn’t that tell you something? I mean, if he didn’t like the job you’re do
ing, he would have sent you back to Cabradell by now. Maybe even home to Krakandar.”

  Mahkas looked at her oddly. “Is that what you think?”

  “You’ve nothing to worry about, Mahkas,” she assured him. “In fact, I’m sure if you asked him, Laran would make your posting here permanent. He says you’re really good at dealing with the merchants. He says you have the common touch.”

  “Laran thinks I’m common?”

  Riika laughed. “Oh, Mahkas, look at your face! It was a compliment! He meant you’re really good at dealing with the common people.”

  “Oh, sure, he meant it as a compliment,” Mahkas replied, clearly not convinced. “But if Laran is so damned impressed with my common touch, why leave me stuck up here on the border? I was more use to him fighting off Medalonian cattle thieves than I am collecting taxes off a bunch of greasy Fardohnyan caravan drivers.”

  Riika detected a note of bitterness that seemed more than just a young man feeling a little put out over something trivial.

  “Perhaps you should talk to Laran when we get back, Mahkas.”

  “Perhaps I will,” Mahkas muttered unhappily, striding on ahead of her and effectively putting an end to their conversation.

  With the stream still iced over and no sign of Zag, the name Xanda had given to their missing fish, Mahkas suggested after lunch that his nephews might like to take a walk even further from the castle, into the woods. Under the shelter of the trees closer to the pass, the small stream was still flowing. Mahkas thought the boys might have more luck finding Zag upstream and they happily agreed to the suggestion. Riika wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to stray so close to the border, but figured that if Mahkas thought it was safe, there was nothing to be concerned about. Once he’d made the suggestion, there was no chance of getting out of it anyway. Travin and Xanda were determined to find their fish and, with an ally as influential as their Uncle Mahkas, they knew there was little chance of Aunt Riika overruling his decision.

  The air grew colder as they walked under the trees. The boys bounded on ahead, as usual, calling for Mahkas to catch up with them. Mahkas had left the guards back by their picnic things, claiming (out of his nephews’ hearing) that there was no need for everyone to traipse through the forest upstream trying to find one not-very-large fish that probably wasn’t there anyway.