Pulflover would support the king because their daughter was queen, but that marriage had been arranged precisely because of the tensions between Pulflover and the Regency, tensions that could be renewed if necessary, and Maldiver had taken steps.
Until a few days ago the king’s eyes had given Maldiver pause, for they constituted a tactical advantage that even his best generals had been at a loss on how to counter. That was until the ridiculous events of two nights ago. Half of the city had been awakened by an eagle screeching in terror, and all of them had looked to the eyrie to see men with spears trying to kill one of the great eagles, an eagle that was inexplicably chained up and screaming with fear.
The king had lost control over the eagles, or at least could not guarantee their safety. Couple this event with rumors he’d been hearing from several sources that many famous eagles seemed to be missing, like Shroud and Goldwing and Sky; plus the loss of his own daughter in Northcraven in some kind of ‘flying accident,’ and the conclusion was inevitable. The king was failing to control his eyrie. To find out what was happening, Maldiver had paid a former king’s eye, one of the many girls who had been recently and inexplicably dismissed, a tidy sum to hear a wild and confidential story about seven eagles being slain in their nests.
No, this king was not doing well at all.
And here stood Maldiver with fifteen thousand men armed and ready to fight, and his own men within the palace in numbers equal to those of the royal guard, and naught but two pairs of testicles between him and the throne. Mortentia had never had a queen, after all, and with Dunwater’s duke dead, only Falante and the prince stood between Maldiver and the throne. The Duke of Northcraven might have a claim, but he was unavailable for comment until the siege was broken there, and it was always better to ask forgiveness than permission. Especially when success meant never having to ask anyone for forgiveness ever again.
There could be no better time.
Falante’s latest report from Northcraven had Aelfric on the march to the relief of Redwater Town, and included in the report had been a secret addendum, in code, with instructions to burn after reading. The instructions alone had intrigued Falante, and when he learned that Aelfric had a secret plan to cross the Redwater, fortify a position there and use it to draw the Cthochi away from Northcraven, he’d understood the tactical value of such an attack immediately. It was the kind of bold move that might liberate Northcraven City and make the muster in front of him largely unnecessary.
The king had to admit that Maldiver had put together an excellent muster here. He’d been exaggerating only a little when he’d said that the Regency would have to strain to match it. Based on manpower alone, perhaps Elderest and the Regency were on par, but Maldiver had no idea the extent of the fortune Falante had amassed in what he called his early trading. He’d had to enlarge the secret vaults beneath the castle just to hold it all, and put in a vault in the palace, besides. He funded almost all of the king’s business from the palace vault, and it contained several thousand talents of silver and hundreds of gold, and was a royal fortune in and of itself.
Still, it excited Falante to see men armed for war, for he had been trained as a soldier, and he was an excellent rider and keen with a lance. As he walked along the waterfront and reviewed the soldiers he passed a low-slung ship of foreign make, perhaps originally an Araqueshi dhow. It had lateen rigging and a sullen-looking crew.
He saw that Maldiver had mounted archers, and he grew excited. The use of mounted archers had been championed by one of his generals, and Aelfric had mentioned their tactical possibilities in one of his earlier letters. He would have to let the man know that some were coming, for of course this muster would fall under his command once it reached Walcox, Redwater or wherever the Silver Run muster was camped. They moved a lot, and …
Three figures, dressed in leather and with faces decorated in multi-colored face paint appeared suddenly in front of him. They looked like Cthochi Auligs! “This is a fine joke.” He said to Maldiver, but the Duke of Elderest looked terrified, and was clawing at his sword.
“Defend the king!” The duke shouted, and Falante’s guards leaped forward, but not before two of the Auligs threw javelins, the kind called spetums, designed with the small points and the thick handles for taking down shields. They threw them straight at Falante, and he dodged one. But the other took him high in the hip, hardly a life-threatening wound, but it hurt like hell.
Two of the king’s guard were on the Auligs now, cutting them down mercilessly, and the three of them fell in moments. Falante winced at the pain in his hip, then laughed. “My first battle!” He said to Maldiver. Then he turned to his guards.
“Good work, men.” He said, then turning to Maldiver he grinned ruefully. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this inspection short.” He said, making light of the wound, which was stinging. “I’ve got a hole in my hip.” There was some blood, but not much, and the pressure of his hand had stemmed the flow. The javelin had not been thrown hard, nor was it barbed, so it had fallen out almost instantly.
“This is terrible, my king. The Auligs must have been on a boat!” Maldiver said. “Who was in charge of securing these docks?” He demanded loudly. “This is an outrage! The king has been wounded, and might have been seriously hurt.”
“It’s nothing. I’ve had worse falling off of my horse.” Falante said. But then he stumbled, and when he put his hands out for support, he found they did not quite obey his will. Then he was lying on his back, and he did not know how that happened. He could feel the individual boards of the boardwalk on his back. He stared up at the sky and saw that the clouds had broken up a bit, and some of the blue was now visible in bits and pieces.
“The king has been poisoned!” Maldiver shouted. “Get a medic! Call for a heartnurse!”
Falante saw the shadows of people moving swiftly around him, but only the sky was clear. It was getting darker, which was strange. It was midmorning, he’d thought. Perhaps a storm was coming. He was tired, so he closed his eyes.
There was a commotion in the palace. Lanae was sitting in the queen’s waiting room, and she could hear a loud voice raised in anger. A sailor, she thought, or maybe a man who bossed sailors, for there was salt in his words and the tone of a man used to getting his way. “Down at the blasted docks, you say?” The man was yelling. “Down at the docks inspecting his men, is he? And him refusing to make good on a ten talent shipping fee? I’ll give him the bloody docks!”
“You must leave sir. You are causing a disturbance.”
“I have caused no such thing. I’ve assembled fifty sailed galleys on promise of payment, and the man has reneged. He has ruined me! Ruined me, I say! He is the one who has caused disturbance!”
The queen looked uncomfortably at her three guests. Duchess D’Cadmouth looked unruffled, as if such disturbances were commonplace and nothing with which she needed to be concerned, but Countess Lotheim looked embarrassed and flushed. She was rather fat and had the kind of face people ignored, despite the quality of her clothing, and she was from Brenwater, where people were not used to rudeness. Idly, Lanae wondered what the dispute was about.
Fifty sailed galleys was a lot of ships, and her brow wrinkled. Who would summon so many ships and then break contract? Surely not the king. No, the man had said he was inspecting his men, which meant the Duke of Elderest surely. But she herself had put the dispatches in Falante’s hands that stated the duke’s intent to ship his men to Nevermind, to help with the war.
So why would he cancel the ships, unless he meant to take his men overland through the Whitewood? But then why bring them into the Regency at all? It was the opposite direction.
Eleinel was saying something. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I was thinking.” Lanae said. “I didn’t hear your question.”
The duchess looked amused and the countess scandalized. “Ladies, you must forgive my friend Madam Lanae.” The queen said with a smile. “She is always so serious about her duties, she hardly th
inks of anything else. Lanae, I was asking if you’ve been to Zoric lately, and if it is as cold there as here.”
“No, Your Majesty.” Lanae replied. “I have not been there lately. How has the prince been taking the cold?”
“He is well.” The queen smiled proudly. “He is a little soldier already. Kicks off his blankets no matter how cold it is, and yet his skin is always warm, and he is always so active.”
“Little boys are like that.” Elsorina said, agreeably. “My Shelderim was always such a little monster, but Limme …” Then her face took on a look of pain. She hid her face for a moment in her hand. “I’m sorry.”
The queen looked at her sympathetically. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I should not be going on about my boy when your daughter has just passed.”
The Duchess looked at her frankly, and Lanae could see something stark and raw there, like a wound when a bandage has been ripped from it too soon. “She was the best of them, I think.” She declared. “I’m a strong woman and I’ve given him many children, but she was the best of them.”
“You must miss her terribly. She was my best friend in the eyrie.” Lanae said truthfully. “She used to tell me so many stories of the pranks she would pull on her father, and how he used to react.” Lanae laughed, despite herself, thinking of Limme. And then she knew. Her mind made a sudden connection and her face went dead still.
“What have you thought of?” Eleinel asked, seeing her strange expression, and Lanae looked first at the queen, and then at the Duchess.
“We must go, Your Majesty.” She said suddenly, thinking desperately. She swallowed hard and looked the queen straight in the eye. “We must go now. You are in terrible danger.”
“Danger, child?” The duchess asked. “What in Lio’s name are you talking about?”
“Your husband, Elsorina.” Lanae said simply. “Limme’s father. She told me how he wanted to be the king.”
“So? Many a man dreams of that.” Elsorina replied, looking slightly offended.
“But they don’t have an army in the King’s Town. And they didn’t just tell the transport captain he wouldn’t be needed.” Lanae replied, then she turned to Eleinel. “He was supposed to ship the men to Nevermind. It’s in my dispatches. He means to keep them here. You understand?”
It took a long moment for the queen to understand. Then her eyes widened and she looked at the duchess with horror. “Elsorina, did you know?”
Duchess Elsorina shook her head in denial. “I don’t believe it, Eleinel. You have to wait for him to explain. There is another explanation.” She held out her hands imploringly. “I swear to you, this accusation is false. There is something else happening.”
“Guards!” The queen called, but only one came, the stern-faced young man Lanae remembered from earlier.
“Your Majesty?”
“I must go to the nursery.” She said. “Take me there at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Lanae, come with me. Elsorina, you come too.”
Countess Lotheim did not appear to understand what was happening, but she stood and curtsied deeply as the three ladies left.
They were halfway to the nursery when the city’s great alarum bell began ringing. The duchess froze, staring around with eyes wide, but Eleinel grabbed her hand. “Come on.” She said firmly. “You know what it must be. I need your help now.”
“But if it is him, I cannot help you.” The Duchess replied. “He is my husband.”
“You will help me because you are a mother.” Eleinel said simply, but Lanae had her doubts. “Come, Elsorina. We haven’t much time.”
The guard looked slightly confused, but he followed the queen. Lanae wished she had her dagger, but of the four of them, only the guard was armed. He looked very young, despite his stern expression.
When they came to the nursery, the door was open. Two men in the livery of Elderest were there, and two men in the royal livery. The men in the royal livery were lying dead on the floor, and the men from Elderest had bloody swords naked in their hands. Two women were also dead and bloody on the floor, prince Kaelen’s nursemaids. With a curse, the young guard with the women leaped into the room.
“You stinking traitors.” He said, stepping forward and drawing his long sword in a single motion. Instead of looking for a shield, he drew a dagger in his other hand. His sword was one of those strange new kind, Lanae noted, very long and thin and the latest fad among lesser nobles, and she doubted it could do much against the chainmail the men from Elderest were wearing.
“Where is my son?” The queen demanded.
Without answering, one of the Elderest men stepped toward the wide play-crib in the back of the room. He had his sword in his hand and was moving purposefully. The other man turned to face the guardsman. He sneered. “You old enough to be off of your mammy’s tit, boy? Maybe you should run home now.”
“Put down your sword, Hobbian!” Duchess Elsorina demanded. “What do you think you are doing?”
“I’m making you a queen, like your husband ordered.” Hobbian said, but suddenly he was too busy getting into position to receive the guardsman’s first sword pass to speak.
“I am Effander O’Manavolle of the Queen’s Guard, assassin. Tell your ancestors.” He leaped forward, clearing half of the room, and his blade seemed to simply twist around Hobbian’s belated attempt at a parry, the tip opening up the man’s throat. It was a new style of fencing based on a new kind of sword, and Hobbian was completely unprepared for it. He dropped his heavy sword and put both hands to his neck, trying to stop the bleeding and coughing uncontrollably.
Without pausing to see the effect of his work, Effander seemed to sprint across the room, and the other Elderest armsman was forced to face him or be stabbed in the back. He let go of the prince’s leg as he did so, and Kaelen began to cry angrily when he bounced against the wooden slats of the playcrib.
“Back off son!” The Elderest man said, but Effander did not. His thin, strange sword was suddenly everywhere at once, and he both parried and thrust in the time it took the Elderest man to attempt one blow. Although he was no mean swordsman, in just a few seconds he was dead, for Effander had put his sword through the man’s eye and into his brainpan. Lanae shouldered Effander aside and picked up the wailing prince, handing him to the queen.
“They are all over the fucking palace.” Effander said angrily, then remembering himself and who he was with, he blushed. “Sorry, Your Majesty. What I meant is that the assassins are all over the place. They came in with the fu… The duke’s delegation.”
“Where can we go?” Duchess Elsorina asked.
“You must stay, Elsorina.” The queen said. “He will make you queen. Please don’t tell them where we’ve gone.”
“I could take her hostage.” Effander suggested, nodding meaningfully at the duchess. He had not sheathed his sword, but only the tip was bloody, and only a little.
Lanae shook her head. “Limme told me. He’s obsessed with becoming king. He would let you kill her and then kill us all.” She thought desperately. “I know a place. Eleinel, you have to change clothing.”
More quickly than Lanae would have thought possible, the queen stripped her elaborate dress down to just a white linen shift. Her skin was very fair and clean. Embarrassed, Effander turned away, making a pretence of watching the corridor for enemies. The clash of swords could be heard echoing down the long hallways.
Lanae feared that Kaelen’s cries would bring more assassins, so she took the prince from Eleinel and wrapped him up tight in a blanket, rocking him gently and making hushing sounds. The baby was having none of it, and continued to wail furiously.
“Is there a secret way out of here?” Lanae asked, and Effander nodded. The queen was dressed in an extra nursemaid’s livery they had found in a closet with a supply of nappies, which Lanae also grabbed.
“Aye, out the cellar, there’s a hidden way. I don’t think the Elderest men will know it.”
“How do we get t
here?”
“There’s a stairway down this hall.” He indicated a direction. The baby caught a breath and shrieked. “Seven Hells, Your Majesty. Put that thing on a tit or we’re all dead!”
The queen took the baby back from Lanae, turned her back to the room, and the baby soon quieted. “We need a distraction.” Effander said. “If we run into any of their men in the halls, the fighting will draw all of them.” Lanae noted that he seemed to have no reaction at all to having just killed two men.
“Lanae, where are we going? They will be coming up from the docks, and they will have the royal quarter surrounded.”
“To the eyrie.” Lanae replied. “I can hide you there, and there’s a secret way out.” This last was a lie, sort of, but Lanae didn’t think they were ready for all of the details of her desperate plan.
“We need to get them away from this corridor.” Effander said, jerking his head back to avoid being seen by men in navy blue who were running down a cross chamber.
“Eleinel, please know that this is not my doing.” Elsorina said, smoothing her dress anxiously. “Can you trust me to distract them, and not to betray you?”
The queen looked at her for just a moment, then looked down at the prince, who was sucking furiously at her breast. “Of course, Elsorina. You’re a Weymore. Just be careful and buy us as much time as you safely can. We’ll be safe in Brenwater.” Lanae draped a shawl over the queen’s shoulders, hiding the prince.
Elsorina stepped into the hall and began striding purposefully toward the place where it intersected with another. “What is going on here?” She screamed in a voice that sounded half-panicked. “Save me, what is happening?” She continued to scream loudly as she walked, and a number of men in blue began appearing. Lanae could hear them calling to her as she drew them away.
“Now for it.” Effander said, and he led them down the hall to the intersection that the duchess had cleared for them. They turned left, then started down another hall. Four men in blue stepped out of a door ahead and started toward them, but three men of the king’s guard in royal red stepped out from another door ten paces closer. Effander joined them, and together they killed the four in blue, but the corridors were ringing with the sound of men calling out to each other.
War of the Misread Augury: Book One of the Black Griffin Rising Trilogy Page 82
