Rina felt utterly alone, aimless, and defeated. An entire city destroyed because of her. For what? Because one god owed another a favor. How was she supposed to make sense of the world after that?
Oh, Alem. I’m sorry. Sorry things got so messed up. It’s all such a big mistake.
She wiped her eyes. No, don’t start that again. It’s too late now anyway. Too late to fix it.
She smoked. She watched the fire.
When she’d smoked the chuma stick down to almost nothing, she flicked the butt away and stood. She considered the possibilities. Which direction? Rina tapped into the spirit, the lightning bolts flaring on her ankles as if they knew what to expect. Rina made her decision.
And ran.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Sarkham had only been given ten horses for his scouts and had been reluctant to give up two of them, but he supposed Maurizan and the bishop had earned them. They bid farewell to each other, and Hark and Maurizan rode north as fast as they could, Millford burning in their wake.
They passed through two villages, both deserted, but took the opportunity to rest and water the horses before moving on. A half day’s fast ride caught them up with the wagon train.
Maurizan kept her eyes open for Tosh and Kalli as they galloped past the wagons but didn’t see them.
They arrived at the duke’s wagon and the head of the train, and Hark nodded respectfully. “Your grace.”
The duke sat up in the back of his wagon. “What news?”
“We weren’t able to hold the bridge quite as long as we’d hoped,” Hark said. “So we . . . uh . . . made other arrangements.”
“Such as?”
“We set Millford on fire. The King’s Highway through the town is utterly impassable.”
“I . . . see.” The duke thought about it. “The lake is to the east.”
“Yes, your grace,” the bishop said. “And a thick forest to the west. Sarkham says they’ll be delayed at least a day. With any luck, two. He remains behind with his men to harass and delay the dead army further.”
“That helps,” the duke said. “A drastic step, but I commend the decision under the circumstances. But we’ll still need my cousin Pemrod’s army to cover us while we get all the civilians and wounded into the city.”
“You grace, I’d like to make a suggestion that might serve both our purposes,” Hark said. “I know you sent a rider ahead to alert the king to our needs, but anything can happen on the road. I’d hate to think some harm came to the man. I have business in Merridan. Let me carry your message to the king, and it will double our chances. If your rider has made it safely, then no harm done.”
“I have no hold on you, Bishop Hark,” the duke said. “Your help is appreciated. Go where you will, and Dumo go with you.”
They said good-bye, and when Hark and Maurizan had trotted a quarter mile or so ahead of the wagons, Hark said, “Will you come with me to Merridan?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” Hark said. “My guess is Rina’s gone one of two places. If she’s gone home to Klaar, then so be it. If she’s gone to Merridan, then she might need our help. The capital is full of snakes and backstabbers.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Rina Veraiin can take care of herself,” Maurizan said. “I can’t say the same for Alem. That’s why I’m coming along. I’ve invested far too much time in that boy to let anything happen to him.”
“Good enough,” Hark said. “I plan to ride fast and rest little.”
“If you’re waiting on me, you’re already behind.”
Maurizan spurred her horse into a run, and Hark was only a split second behind her.
Brasley sat on his bed, pulling on his boots.
Darshia ran past his door and down the hall. Fast.
Brasley blinked. “What the bloody . . .”
He had taken to leaving the door to his room open. His room was in a guest wing of the palace, and he’d learned that if he watched the flow of people moving down the halls at certain times of the day, and if he followed the crowd, it would often lead to some reception or a meal or some other entertainment.
I wish Fregga were here. I could escort her to these things, and she could look at me lovingly, and all the daughters of the barons and counts will wonder why they couldn’t get to me first.
But mostly he just missed his wife and wanted her around.
Nivin ran past his door, followed by the other Birds of Prey, boots making a tiny stampede.
Something is going on.
“Hey!”
A second later, Nivin stuck her head in the door. “Rina’s here!”
She was gone again just as quickly.
Rina!
Brasley jumped up and tore out of the room after her.
He caught up with them at the end of the hall, where they all got down on one knee in front of Rina. She wore that dreadful black armor that Brasley hated and was covered in dust and road grime.
But you’re a sight for sore eyes, lady.
“Darshia.” Rina took her by the hands and lifted her to a standing position and gave her a big hug. Darshia hugged back. “What are you doing here?”
“We came looking for you,” Darshia said.
“We all did!” Nivin piped up, then suddenly looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry that I don’t know all of you,” Rina said. “But it’s so good to see people from home.”
They took that as an invitation to stand and all talk at once, bombarding Rina with questions.
Rina look past them and saw Brasley, her face brightening with a wide grin.
“Brasley!”
She rushed past the others and threw herself on Brasley, gathering him into a huge hug.
“You might be wearing armor, but I’m not, you know.” But he returned the hug, and they laughed.
“You can take it, big strong man.”
“Where’s Bishop Hark?” Brasley asked. “Last time I saw him he was riding off into the wilderness to rescue you. I would still think the Perranese had you, if Alem hadn’t told us—”
“Alem’s here?”
“Around here someplace,” Brasley assured her. “He came in with the news that you drowned Sherrik, and then he insisted on getting drunk.”
“That’s not funny,” Rina said sharply.
“I’m sorry,” Brasley said. “I thought I’d try a little gallows humor. Bad choice. I guess I miss Klaar. And my wife.”
She hugged him again, sighing, this time holding on to him for support as if suddenly tired. “Somebody told me we’re getting near to the end of this thing. Do you think it’s true? I hope so.”
“I hope so too,” he said. “Hark?”
“Alive when I saw him last. I had to travel fast, so I left him in good company. What about Talbun?”
Brasley’s face clouded. He shook his head.
Rina ran her fingers through her hair, grabbed a fistful, and closed her eyes tight. “Oh no.”
“Forget it,” Brasley said. “There’s something more important. We found it.”
Rina blinked. “Found it?”
Brasley lowered his voice. “The reason you sent us to the Great Library. The tattoo.”
Understanding dawned in her face. Talbun’s death hadn’t been for nothing.
“Rina.” A voice behind her.
She turned, sucked in a quick breath. “Alem.”
He looks so good, Rina thought. The black doublet and breeches suited him. He’d recently bathed, hair combed. She’d loved him just as much with hay in his hair and stinking of horse straight from the stables. I’m not going to cry. I’m never going to cry again.
She went to embrace him, hesitated.
Alem grabbed her into a hug, whispered in her ear, “It’s okay. We’re friends.”
Friends.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
The hug only lasted two seconds, but Rina considered tapping into the spirit, making time slow, stretching the moment forever.
Alem released her. “Glad you’re okay.”
“You too.”
The sound of someone clearing his throat.
Rina turned. The Birds of Prey had parted as Kent strode toward her, looking grim and inhospitable beneath his black skullcap. A brace of armored guards stood behind him.
“Forgive the intrusion,” Kent said. “I know you’re reuniting with your people, but King Pemrod summons you, and time is of the essence. Several things have to happen very quickly if we’re to dispatch the army to Duke Sherrik’s aid.”
“Of course.” Rina looked back at Alem. “We’ll visit more later. All of us,” she said, including the rest.
Brasley leaned in and whispered, “Invited to see the king, eh? Better you than me.”
“Brasley, my boy!”
Brasley looked up and saw Count Becham behind the guards, gesturing for him to follow. “You too. Come along now. It will be good for you to see how things get done in the capital.”
“Just . . . shit,” Brasley muttered under his breath.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Kent ushered Rina, Brasley, and Count Becham into an anteroom adjacent to King Pemrod’s private bedchamber. The guards closed the door and took their positions on either side of it. There were three other men there waiting. One was a broad-chested man in a gleaming breastplate, high black boots, with a saber hanging from his belt, a short dagger on the other side. He held a plumed helmet under one arm, and Kent introduced him as Lord General Denrick. Next to him was a fat man with a pointed white beard known as Count Harlan, evidently one of Pemrod’s advisors. The third man was . . .
“Ferris Gant,” Rina said, attempting to sound pleasant. “I wondered if you’d be here. Good to see you again.”
“And you, Rina.” Gant’s voice was tight. He seemed nervous. “It seems we’re all going to be forced to make hard decisions a little sooner than we thought.”
Rina didn’t like the sound of that but wasn’t given the chance to pursue it.
“Give me just a moment to make sure his majesty is ready to receive.” Kent went into the next room and returned in less than ten seconds, gesturing them to enter.
The king’s bedchamber was enormous and ornate, with thick, exotic rugs on the floor and a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Three guards stood at attention in three different corners. King Pemrod sat up in a huge canopied bed in a nest of silken pillows. He wore a simple nightshirt. The covers were pulled up to his waist.
“I’ll ask you to excuse the intimate setting.” Pemrod said it in a way that made it clear he didn’t really give a damn what they thought of the setting at all. “Since I’ve taken ill, it’s become convenient to conduct the realm’s business from here.” He looked at Rina, eyes narrowing. “Ah, Duchess Veraiin. Glad you could join us. I understand you’ve just arrived. Forgive me for summoning you before you’ve had time to freshen up, but time grows short in more ways than one.”
“It’s okay,” Rina said. “I just hope your majesty will feel better soon.”
“Well, I won’t,” Pemrod said. “I’m dying, and I’m told it will happen sooner than later. Some damn disease eating me up from the inside. All the wizards and physicians at my disposal, and nobody can do a thing about it. I’m told it’s excruciatingly painful. Fortunately Kent has whipped together one of his tonics that keeps the pain at bay. But that’s neither here nor there. To business. My grandnephew tells me he broached the subject of matrimony and that you’re thinking about it.”
“Oh. Yes, your majesty,” Rina said. “When your delegation visited Klaar.”
“Well, the time for thinking is over,” Pemrod said. “And the time for acting is at hand. When you were here in Merridan before, I laid out what I thought were some convincing arguments for such a union, but you were unmoved. Was Ferris able to sway you by other means?”
Rina had no idea what to say. Her eyes shifted to Gant.
“Rina, I told you how it could be agreeable for both of us,” Gant said. “You remember? I . . . well, let’s just say that everything will go more smoothly if you agree. You’d make a wonderful and courageous queen.”
A long pause.
“Thank you for that, Ferris,” Rina said. “But I’m sorry. The answer is no.”
Gant’s shoulders slumped. Everyone else in the room stood perfectly still, waiting to see what happened next.
Pemrod took a white handkerchief from beneath his bedcovers and coughed into it. Rina saw bright red flecks of blood on the fabric.
The king dabbed at the corners of his mouth, then said, “I see.”
“I mean no offense to you or your family, your majesty. Ferris is a fine man, but I hardly know him,” Rina said. “And I’m not ready.”
“I understand,” Pemrod said.
Another long moment crawled by.
“Lord General,” Pemrod said.
The general snapped to attention. “Your majesty.”
“Once the order is given, how long will it take you to mobilize a sufficient force to cover my cousin’s retreat from the dead army pursing them?” Pemrod asked.
“The Light Cavalry Third Brigade can be saddled and on its way in two hours,” said the lord general. “A division of royal pikemen can follow three hours later, but of course infantry will move more slowly.”
“The sooner the better, then,” Pemrod said. “It seems I have much to think about for such an important decision. Yes, much to consider.”
Rina blinked. “Your majesty, you will send help, won’t you?”
“Will I?” Mock innocence on his face. “Why is that?”
“But . . . to save their lives!”
“Their lives are in your hands, Duchess,” Pemrod said. “Do you have some convincing argument for moving faster?”
Rina took a deep breath. “Are you saying you won’t help those people?”
“What if I am?”
“But they’re your people,” Rina said.
“So are the people inside this city,” Pemrod said. “If the dead surround the city, and we’re under siege for weeks or months, who will feed them? Letting in Sherrik’s folk will increase the number of mouths to feed. These are the life-and-death decisions a king must face. Often ugly decisions, but these problems don’t go away just because we wish they would. You are young, Duchess, and if you’re lucky enough to grow older, you’ll learn hard decisions make a person hard too. What happens to Helva if I die with no successor? I try to assure a smooth succession for my heir because I’m a responsible ruler. If I pass with no heir named, the long knives come out of every shadow, and Merridan plunges into chaos.”
Gant looked at Rina with pleading eyes. “Marry me, Rina. It’s the best way. You’ll be saving lives.”
“Never mind her, boy,” Pemrod said. “You’d think she’d want to save the survivors of the city she destroyed? I suppose some people just have no sense of responsibility.”
Rina gasped. He knows. Somehow he knows what I did in Sherrik.
And was he wrong? Would Rina’s pride and stubbornness cost lives? She looked at Brasley, who returned a bewildered gaze.
And then she remembered what Krell had told her. That she was on a path from which she couldn’t escape. Fate had decided for her. She trembled with rage that she would have so little control over her own life.
“You’re the king,” Rina said. “The responsibility is yours.”
“Rina, please.” Gant tried to communicate something with his eyes, but Rina was too angry to care.
“You’re a monster,” she said. “That’s on you. That blood is on your hands.”
“A monster, am I?” Pemrod tsked. “I’ve been called worse, I suppose.”
“Rina.” Gant’s voice begging.
She ignored him. “And history will call you worse, if you let this happen.”
Gant turned to Pemrod. “Tell me to marry anyone else, and I will. Anyone you think best. Let’s settle it once and for all
.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Pemrod said. “This whole episode has made me reconsider if you’re cut out to be a monarch. And I won’t be sending troops to rescue my dear cousin Emilio, I’m afraid. We’ll order the gates closed and make the city safe.”
“You bastard!” It was all Rina could do not to reach for her sword.
“Uncle, don’t,” Gant said. “Send troops to help Sherrik. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Every word you utter screams weakness,” Pemrod said. “Only confirming I’m right to pick another to be my heir.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle.”
“I’m sorry too,” Pemrod said. “I’m sorry for Helva.”
“No, Uncle,” Gant said. “I mean, I’m sorry.”
He whisked his sword from its sheath, and in the same quick motion thrust it through the king’s chest. Pemrod slumped over onto the bed, the breath leaking out of him like a long, wistful sigh.
Rina screamed.
Behind her, she heard Brasley utter, “Oh, fuck!”
The lord general drew his saber in one hand and his dagger in the other.
Then he plunged the dagger into the back of the fat count with the pointy beard. The count screamed and fell.
“The king! Assassins!” Count Becham clumsily drew the small dagger on his own belt.
“Count Becham, don’t!” Brasley tackled him to the floor.
Gant jerked his sword loose from the king’s chest, spraying blood across the white sheets, and slammed the hilt into the face of the guard coming up swiftly behind him. The crack of a broken nose, more blood spraying.
The lord general spun and faced the other two guards in the room. When one lunged, he parried it easily and moved in to kill the other. On his backswing, he caught the first on the arm, a deep gash that made him drop his weapon. The lord general finished him off with a quick thrust.
The door slammed open, and the two guards from the anteroom rushed in, blades naked and ready.
Kent, almost forgotten, stepped out of the shadows, muttering blurred arcane syllables, and tossed a pinch of blue powder in the air. The guards’ eyes rolled up, and they fell in a heap.
“You’re a wizard?” Rina said.
A Painted Goddess Page 30
