Prince of Wrath

by Tony Roberts

  “It’s great,” Argan said, wondering what else he ought to say. Dresses weren’t really his thing. “Your boobies are showing a lot.”

  Amne pressed the front of her dress down and looked. “Hmm, they are. This is cut for someone less endowed than me. Someone clearly didn’t take the measurements properly. I’ll have to have a word with the dressmaker when I get back. Tchah! Its nearly indecent!”

  Argan looked on, fascinated, as his sister tried to adjust her front but it wouldn’t conceal her breasts any more. They were half exposed, a little more than society really allowed. Her undergarments were only just hidden. “Is that bad?”

  “To other women, yes. I suspect the men will like it.”

  Argan grinned. “Vos’gis will.”

  “Oh, him! He’ll not be able to look anywhere else, that terrible man. Father won’t approve, that’s for sure, and mother will be scandalised. I think I’ll leave it as it is.”

  “Really? Won’t you get told off?”

  “Who by? I’ll wear a necklace in any case. It’ll help distract roving eyes. That’s a tip for you, Argan. If you have something that people can’t avoid looking at but you want them not to see, put on something else that catches their eyes. I have a nice big necklace in my portable case over there; bring it to me will you?”

  The bag was brought over and Amne opened it. It spread into two equal halves of a display case and in it Argan was fascinated to see an array of gold, silver and jewel-studded items. Rings, bangles, earrings, necklaces. “Wow, that’s a lot!”

  “And worth a lot of money, too. Thieves would do anything to get their hands on this.”

  “They wouldn’t dare!”

  “Oh they would,” Amne said, “if they had the chance. Here, this one. Hold it up in front of me please, Argan.”

  Argan found the gold and blue-stone necklace heavier than he thought, and his eyes widened in surprise. He looked over the necklace, catching the light of the oil lamp and reflecting it. Amne pointed at the two ends in Argan’s hands. “See that hook on that end? It goes through the hole – the eye – on the other end after it goes round my neck. Try it.”

  She turned round and bent her knees so Argan could reach without difficulty. She guided the necklace around the front and waited for Argan to fumble with the catch, his fingers warm on her neck, until he said in triumph that he’d done it. Amne straightened and turned round. “There, how does it look?”

  “Very nice! All sparkly and dangly.”

  Amne smiled, and thought it might help divert some of the attention away from her breasts, although it was highly unlikely in some cases. “You’ll have to get ready for the dinner pretty soon, but before you go, let’s chat a little more – I really miss you.”

  So they spoke a little more, each bringing the other up to date with what had happened in their lives until Argan had to leave – his name was being called in the corridor and one of the guards pointed out he was in Amne’s chambers. Genthe and Sasia were to get him prepared for the meal so he bade his sister farewell for the moment and dutifully returned to his own room just along the passageway.

  Amne’s domestic returned to prepare her hair and make-up, looking with a slight moué of disapproval at her dress.

  It wasn’t long before Isbel added her disapproval when Amne arrived in the dining chamber, a communal room vacated of everyone for this particular occasion. Guards stood at each of the three doorways and servants brought in each course. Argan was seated next to Amne with Istan opposite, the two siblings kept apart. Vosgaris was next to Istan and Astiras was at one end, Isbel the other. Vasila was next to Vosgaris and on the other side of Amne the KIMM young officer, Fostan Telekan. The other diner was the court cleric, Waylar.

  “It’s not often that I have the opportunity to eat with most of my family these days,” Astiras smiled, waiting for his goblet to be filled with a vinefruit red before raising it. “I wish to make a toast to my family – may each of us prosper and bring Kastania great success and happiness. To the Koros.”

  Argan lifted his beaker, a fruit juice, and copied the others, watching closely what they were doing. He felt it was some sort of important moment, so he did his best to follow the others. Istan looked at the rest and pointedly refused to drink. Argan thought his brother was a silly sulker. Amne flicked her hair and caught Vosgaris staring at her cleavage and decided not to embarrass the poor man. Instead she turned to Fostan Telekan. He was dressed smartly in his best off-duty uniform of dark blue with silver buttons and shoulder stripes to denote his rank. One broad silver woven thread denoted him as the first rank of officer in the Kastanian army – a sub-commander.

  Fostan felt overawed, especially in the presence of the emperor, empress, princess and young princes. He didn’t know what he should do or say, and the ravishingly attractive woman next to him made his legs shake. He had no idea just how stunning she really was until she had turned up in her dress, her golden hair set in curls and a band of gold inset. She also had the biggest pair of blue eyes he’d seen. How he didn’t swallow his tongue he didn’t know.

  “You look very smart, Sub-commander. Is the vinefruit to your liking?”

  Fostan willed his tongue to spring into life. He couldn’t do much about the colour that flooded across his face. “Ah, yes ma’am,” he managed to say. “It’s the best I’ve had.”

  “I agree,” Amne nodded and looked down the table to her father. “Where did you find this vintage? Surely they didn’t have it here when you captured this place?”

  “The gods above! No – those savages would have drank it in a flash, not knowing its value. I got this as a gift from the Mazag ambassador. Interesting fellow, if a bit uncouth.”

  “This is a Mazag vinefruit?” Amne looked at the glass she had with surprise. “My experience of Mazag drinks are that they are heavy, sharp and full.”

  “They clearly have others. No doubt they had wanted to get you drunk previously – was that in Bukrat?”

  “Yes, it was. I couldn’t drink much! Their soldiers quaffed it as if it were mere water!”

  Astiras grinned. He turned to Vasila, dressed in a neat dress of dark red tied at the waist. There was no plunging neckline for her, merely a more acceptable and sober attire accentuated with a narrow necklace of silver with a single red stone dangling at the front. Her short hair had grown slightly, so it didn’t look too mannish now, and was in fact quite neat and tidy. It had been slightly styled by one of the domestics, leaving a longer part down her neck and in front of her ears. “And you, Vasila? After your exertions of the recent past, I bet you’re happy to be here drinking a decent Mazag.”

  “Yes, sire,” the young woman smiled, relaxing a little. She had been happy to pass her report to Vosgaris who had given it to Pepil, and even now the major domo was poring over it, getting one of his clerks to copy it, ready to send to Kastan City. “It was a little frightening, but at the same time exciting.”

  “Hmmm,” Astiras looked thoughtfully at her. “You like the exciting life, do you?”

  “Yes sire, a life of domestic serenity does not appeal to me.”

  “Hmmm… you and I must speak further on this. Tomorrow, shall we say?”

  Isbel frowned. “Astiras, I hope you’re not planning some insane mission for this young lady! The Taboz family are good friends and putting their daughter in danger won’t go down well.”

  “Oh, have no fear on that! It’s domestic, not foreign. I suspect young Vasila here will jump at the offer.” He smiled widely at her and Vasila grinned back, feeling the power of the emperor, as well as his obvious charm. Astiras knew how to influence people, especially women.

  Isbel pulled a slight face and turned to Amne. “So how is your husband, Amne? Does he send his regards to us?”

  “Of course, as always. We’re very happy indeed, mother.” Amne held Isbel’s look, daring her to contradict such an outrageous lie, smiling even wider when Isbel accepted it. Isbel looked as if she had tasted something foul. She was remi
nded just how argumentative Amne had become. Good thing she was staying only a few days.

  “Tell us about Jorqel’s wedding, Amne,” the empress decided to change the subject hastily. “I’m eager to hear how it really went, as is your father.”

  “And me!” Argan said not wanting to be kept out of things.

  “I don’t,” Istan said.

  “Oh, Istan, don’t be such a misery,” Isbel scolded him. “We all want to hear. Go on, Amne.”

  Amne related the wedding to them all, and for a while she held the table with the story. Argan was enthralled, giving her rapt attention. Both Vosgaris and Fostan were, too, although they were less interested in the story than the story teller. The rest, however, listened with interest except for Istan who sulked the whole way through. Only his father’s stern look on one occasion prevented him from spoiling the moment with a tantrum, so he contented himself with keeping his expression of hostility fixed on his face. Amne pointedly looked everywhere else during her retelling.

  After she had finished the others chatted about it while Amne sipped on her drink, enjoying the attention of both Fostan and Vosgaris. She had done her talking, now it was the turn of Vasila. Astiras encouraged her to tell her tale of journeying to the fortress and her destruction of the arms cache at Rhan.

  Vosgaris beamed with pride at his sister’s success, while Waylar questioned Vasila about the Venn priests and their role in that society. Vasila asked Astiras as to what he thought those bars had been on the wagons.

  Astiras grunted. “Sounds like currency bars to me. An army costs money and its wages are often carried in the form of metal bars. The commander orders the melting down of them into coins at payment time. I think you destroyed quite a lot of potential money there. Well done!”

  “Yes, a good job,” Vosgaris agreed. “How much time do you think my sister has gained us?”

  Astiras waved a hand slightly. “I don’t know but it must be a couple of seasons at least. Now winter is due in a short time I don’t think Venn will be able to march until the spring. I wonder if they know who was responsible. I think they’ll have their suspicions but can they prove it? No.”

  Vosgaris grinned at Vasila, then asked whether Mazag would stand by Kastania should Venn invade. Astiras nodded. He waved at Amne. “Thanks to my daughter here, Mazag are strongly allied to us and that includes coming to our assistance should we be attacked. The alliance does not extend to us declaring war on another, just being attacked by a third party. That is good enough for me, and buys us more time. By the time Venn tries its luck at us, I plan to have made Zofela a hard place to crack.”

  “You have made lots of progress even from the time I last saw this place,” Amne said. “I’d like to go ride out the day after tomorrow and look around. I hardly had time to take everything in when I rode here from Bukrat.”

  Astiras looked at Isbel who shook her head slightly. “I’m not sure that’s an entirely good idea, Amne. There are still some – brigands – on the loose outside this valley. We’ve had an isolated case of robbery in the past few days and Captain Vosgaris here is presently investigating it. Although he has not yet brought me up to date,” he finished staring intently at the captain.

  “Apologies, sire,” Vosgaris said hastily, “but that’s because there is nothing that has been uncovered. There has been no trace of who did it, despite a great many scouts being sent out. I have received no other reports of robberies, and perhaps it is because it was a merchant who was attacked and robbed. My suspicions are that it was a personal attack from a possible rival, but I have no proof.”

  “All the same, I don’t think it’s safe enough to allow Amne out on her own around the rim of the valley,” Astiras insisted.

  “Oh, father, Vosgaris can escort me – he’s capable and we won’t be very far. We’ll keep Zofela in sight at all times. I just want to see this place before the snows come and before I return home. My last memory of this place was not good and I want to replace it with something more beautiful and pleasant.”

  “Hmmm, what say you, darling?” the emperor asked Isbel.

  Isbel regarded both Amne and Vosgaris for a long moment, her mind suspicious. “Why not the Sub-commander and an escort of the KIMM?”

  Amne held her step-mother’s look for a moment, then shrugged. Her plan to get Vosgaris alone seemed doomed. “Yes, why not? They need exercising.” She saw Vosgaris scowl briefly before returning his attention to his soup. His disappointment was just as much as Amne’s which pleased her. “Are you up for that the day after tomorrow, Sub-commander?”

  Fostan Telekan bowed. “It will be an honour, ma’am.”

  Isbel glanced at Vosgaris once more. Was there something going on between him and Amne? If so, she would certainly have something to say about that. Punishments were severe for adultery, and more so for those high up in society. That’s not to say it didn’t go on, but it was simply not done for those of the ruling House.

  She felt slightly disappointed in Vosgaris even as the thought passed through her mind.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  One of the improvements made within the empire over the past few years was the messenger system. Now messages could be sent swiftly by rider throughout the lands and they could reach most places within ten days or so of their dispatch. One of the consequences of this was the setting up of a dedicated corps of messengers, a special unit paid for by each province who rode along the newly repaired roads and linked the major cities and towns with better communications.

  The increase in letters meant more time was spent by the governors and their staff in reading the morning messages and communiques, and on some special occasion an imperial edict. Many of the letters were general messages, but some were personal and for the eyes only of individuals rather than to be passed on to the populace or the military.

  Lalaas read and re-read Amne’s message to him. It had been brought to him by one of his guards and not via Prince Elas. That had alerted him to the fact it was a special message, and when he opened it in the privacy of his own quarters the night he had been given it, he saw it was what was equivalent to an apology from the princess. She had regretted their disagreement and she said that she would look forward to seeing him on her return with a resumption of their friendship as it had been before she had left.

  The guard captain smiled gently to himself. Amne was hard work but she was a woman whom he found attractive and one he longed to be in the company of. The fact she was one of the imperial family and married made no difference; he knew he would not dishonour himself, her or any social rule. He knew she wanted him but he was resolute in keeping that aspect of their relationship out. Amne may dabble with other men, and he knew she did, for her marriage was an unhappy one, but that didn’t mean he loved her any less. She had a strange kind of magnetic pull over him, and he wondered often why it was. Yes, she was beautiful but Lalaas had known other beautiful woman but they had not appealed to him; beauty of face or physique was one thing, but beauty within was what called to him. Sometimes she was a spoilt child, and her temper was explosive, but he looked beyond that, and her indiscretions, and loved her for the person she was. He guessed he always would, to his dying day.

  Another who read and re-read a letter was Thetos Olskan in Turslenka. Grief was his main emotion as he went over and over the letter, cursing his unfeeling and stupid reaction to Metila. Oh, how he wished he could go back to that day she left him! He had cried tears of bitterness and regret the nights he lay alone, and that was not something he had done for many, many years. He was a veteran soldier and a tough ruler, but the loss of his woman hurt him deeply, and he knew he was entirely to blame.

  She had told him she had come to him voluntarily, and saved his life, and had stayed with him thereafter. She had never been made a slave; she had willingly served him, and he should remember that. Now he was treating her like he did not care for her, only for him, she had to go. She would stay away for a while, then send him another letter and give an addre
ss to send a reply to, and she would read his letter and see whether he was worth returning to.

  Thetos did not understand fully. He had been rough, brutal and cruel to her, and she had seemingly enjoyed it, but the last time he had been particularly selfish in not wishing her to put weight on, and her remark about his weight had hit home deeply, for he no longer had his youthful figure. Too much easy living and sitting about had added to his waistline, and he recognised that. His clothes no longer fitted him and he needed new ones, larger ones, and his armour was too tight.

  Clothes were one thing, armour a completely different matter. It was far more expensive. Should he exercise more? Be less of an overweight man and try to slim down? He knew it would be hard. He so wanted Metila to ask if he wanted her back. It would be an overwhelming yes. His sense of loneliness was more so now she had gone, and he often walked to her door where her potions and herbs still hung or were stored, and looked in, hoping to see her sitting there mixing some of them in her industrious way. He had never been an attractive man, but he had been strong and fearless and that had made up for it; women had not been unknown to him. But after his injury and the loss of his hand, he had only been with Metila. He wanted no other woman but that lithe, sensual, wicked Bragalese witch.

  Sadly he turned away and made his way back to his desk where yet another request from some damned land holder sat awaiting his response. Letters, letters, letters. Damn them all to the back pit!

  More letters went from Slenna. Jorqel and Sannia had been furiously using their quills over the past few days, informing all they wished to know that Sannia was with child. At first the newly wed princess hadn’t been sure, but after her cycle had been missed it had removed any doubts, and the older women at the castle who were experienced with birthing soon confirmed Sannia’s feelings.