The Stiehl Assassin

by Terry Brooks

The shape-shifter rewarded him with that beautiful smile—the one that radiated affection and intense longing, the one that melted his heart as if it were formed of soft butter. She came up the wall swiftly, stopped just below him, and reached up with one hand, the claws disappearing in favor of fingers and a palm that caressed his cheek like satin.

  “I don’t believe you’re here,” he said softly, reveling in her touch. He looked for a harness or a rope on her back, but she carried nothing. “Do you plan to carry us down?”

  She nodded and held up one finger. One at a time. “Tindall, get over here,” he ordered.

  In the distance, the sky was beginning to lighten. Morning was coming on fast. They didn’t want to be caught on the wall when the sun crested and brightened the city.

  Tindall was at his side, looking anxious. “Climb through,” the boy told him. “Slide down onto her back and hook your arms around her neck. She’ll carry you down. I’ll keep hold of you until you’re in place.”

  The old man didn’t say a word. He moved to where Shea was offering his coupled hands and stepped into them. Shea boosted him up so he could climb out, holding on tightly as he did so. Tindall weighed more than seemed possible for such a frail old thing, but the boy kept careful hold of him until he was settled in place.

  Without turning around, Seelah scooted down the wall much faster than Shea had expected—now and then slowing to allow her passenger to adjust his position or hold on her. It took them no more than five minutes to reach the ground. When Tindall stepped off her back, there was Rocan, emerging from the shadows to embrace him.

  A moment later Seelah was coming back up the wall for Shea when the alarm sounded, horns blaring from the Deep’s high tower, a wailing death knell for anyone who transgressed.

  And Shea Ohmsford knew who that someone was.

  FOUR

  IN THE FOOTHILLS LEADING into the Dragon’s Teeth above the north banks of the Mermidon, Ajin d’Amphere stood at the forefront of her soldiers and awaited her father’s coming. There were perhaps two hundred members of her command standing with her, eager and excited—and with totally mistaken expectations. It was their belief that the king had arrived to join forces against the massive Federation army poised just on the other side of the river. It was their belief that his arrival was a cause for celebration.

  And for them, perhaps, it would be. But not for her.

  Kol’Dre was at her side, resolute and unmoving, standing with her now as he had stood with her for almost ten years against every conceivable threat she had faced—her comrade-in-arms, her most trusted adviser, and her closest friend. Kol was not fooled like the others, but not yet persuaded that matters would take the turn she was convinced they must. He knew her father well, but not as well as she did. In her mind, there was no doubt what was going to happen. Her father’s character, his temperament, his insistence on obedience and compliance from all of his subjects—but particularly from her—did not leave any room for ambiguity.

  Facing them were dozens of newly arrived Skaar soldiers, all of them looking fresh and clean and ready to act. Ajin’s command was worn ragged by the struggles of the past few weeks. They had fought several hard battles, and they carried the marks and the memories of each. Their newly arrived fellows had come directly from home and not yet wielded a single weapon or faced a single enemy.

  That would change soon enough, she thought darkly.

  Unless she could find a way to prevent it from happening in the way she feared it would.

  Overhead and behind the newly arrived command, the Skaar fleet hovered above the trees of the surrounding forests, poised to strike or stand down, as per her father’s orders. She had seen the command ship lower earthward, bearing the soldiers who stood before her, and she knew her father would be with them. He had sent them ahead to clear a path, and he was timing his appearance for maximum impact on his daughter and the soldiers she had brought with her. Drama, theatrics, and awe were the tools Cor d’Amphere employed as king of the Skaar, and his methods were familiar to her. He never made an appearance without at least one at his command—and preferably all three.

  She had intended that her father’s arrival should come at the pinnacle of her confrontation with the Federation and its Prime Minister, Ketter Vause. But fighting a battle was not part of the plan—unless she was certain the Skaar would win. Instead, she wanted to intimidate the Federation and enter into negotiations that would allow both sides to save face and the Skaar to pursue their continued struggle for survival. With their homeland turning to a frozen waste and their people facing certain starvation, they needed a new country in which to make a life. The Four Lands offered that homeland, and the Northland with its tribes of Gnomes and Trolls would serve. It might not be the end of their occupation of this new continent, but it would certainly be a manageable start.

  But her father’s mind had been poisoned toward her, and her advice on everything regarding the Four Lands would likely not be heeded.

  Still, she must try to persuade him. She must try to turn aside his anger and mistaken belief regarding her actions, and be made to see that a battle at this time and place could not end well. An odd thing for a Skaar princess to advocate, but she understood the nature of the enemy they were facing and the power that it wielded better than he, and she recognized the dangers it posed to the Skaar. It was one thing to be confident—and quite another to be foolish. Her father was not the soldier she was, and lacked her ability to command in the field. He lacked her experience, as well, and led the Skaar army only by virtue of being the king of its people. She, on the other hand, led because she had proven herself to her soldiers, over and over again—by setting an example, by leading them from the front, by showing them how battles could be won against any force. But she could not tell him this. She could not be so bold and expect to walk away.

  Not even in private. And in public, before so many men and women of his Skaar…

  “He comes,” Kol’Dre whispered suddenly.

  Before them, there was movement within the ranks of the newly arrived—a shifting of bodies and a scattering of cheers and shouts. Ajin watched the soldiers part, and then her father strode into view.

  Cor d’Amphere was not a particularly impressive man, let alone king, but he exuded confidence and certainty in his position as he came toward her, head held high, eyes fixed on his daughter. She met his gaze with her own and held it, refusing to back away or bow or do anything but stand there and await whatever he had planned for her. All around her, soldiers were bowing in recognition of his office and his power, including Kol—but then Kol always did know when it was advisable to bow and when not to. She should have shown deference, as well, but her stubborn refusal to be intimidated kept her from doing so.

  Besides, whatever was going to happen would not be changed by a bow or a posture of supplication or anything else. She held herself frozen in place.

  The cost was quickly apparent. Her father came up to her and, without a word, struck her across the face with the palm of his hand with enough force to send her staggering backward. But she kept on her feet, the sting of the blow kindling anger toward her father of which she did not think herself capable. Gasps and a few muttered oaths rose from the men and women behind her—her soldiers, who loved her; her comrades, who believed in her and would follow her anywhere. She ignored them. This was between her father and herself.

  Slowly she straightened and came back to stand before him. “Was that really necessary?” she asked.

  “I thought so,” he answered. Anger equal to her own burned in his eyes. “You crossed a line, daughter—a line that no one has the right to cross.”

  “I crossed no line. I came to the Four Lands and I swept through the Trolls who opposed us, and took Paranor in spite of the vaunted Druid magic. I wiped out their order. Then I faced down the Federation and destroyed its advance force when it came against us—
”

  “And thereby brought the bulk of the Federation army down on our heads, it appears!” he interrupted, shouting her down.

  Silence fell over those collected, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. Father and daughter were both possessed of strong personalities. Once they had shared a closeness, true, but that was before his second marriage and before she developed a true following and reputation of her own. Now, she was aware, she was becoming a bigger threat to him by the day.

  Ajin recognized the extent of the danger she was facing in her father’s scowl and clenched fists. Nothing would be gained if she alienated him completely. She had to stop things from progressing further.

  She dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “I have failed to protect the Keep and its treasures. I have risked too much to bring the enemy to meet us. I am at fault, and I accept all blame. I offer no excuses.”

  Her father glared at her a moment longer and then nodded. “Your apology is accepted. And I am glad that you recognize your mistakes. I trust you see why you cannot overstep the limits I set for you. You cannot make decisions like the ones you have made here without consulting with me first.”

  “Father,” she said quietly, still on her knees. “In my defense, I did attempt to reach you with messages several times—particularly regarding my feeling that negotiating with the Federation might lead to an agreement that would keep them at bay. I may have misjudged, but I did try to consult you first. Another prevented me from doing so.”

  Her father nodded, unsmiling. “You tread on dangerous ground, Ajin. Be careful what you say next.”

  She took his warning to heart. “Sten’Or arranged to have the messages intercepted so that they would not reach you. I am not even sure what brought you here today. I had asked for you to come, but he told me when I questioned him that you would never receive that message.”

  “So my arrival is a surprise?” No change in expression or tone of voice, but a hint of something else. “Is that what you are telling me?”

  She nodded. “May I rise?”

  He gestured permission and she rose, standing as close as she had before, hoping his anger had lessened. But shards of it lingered still in his eyes as he studied her. “And where is Sten’Or?”

  “Locked away. I could no longer trust him to be honest with me once I found out he was tampering with my messages to you.”

  “We will see. Have him brought to me. Now.”

  Ajin turned to Kol’Dre, who departed immediately to fetch their prisoner. Moments later, he returned, guiding the now unfettered and clearly unrepentant Skaar commander with a hand clasped firmly on his arm. Sten’Or was already talking as he came up to stand next to Ajin.

  “She works to undermine your authority and your position as king, my lord,” he said at once. “She plots against you and the queen. She sees herself as more the commander of your army than you are, and exceeds her authority well beyond what you permitted her. I want her removed from command and myself reinstated.”

  Cor d’Amphere nodded. “Did you tamper with her messages to me?”

  “No, my lord. Not a one.”

  “Did someone else?”

  A pause this time. “I could not say for certain. I was here, with my soldiers, when those messages came to you.”

  “Except, Sten’Or, they didn’t come to me. They came to someone else. Do you have any thoughts as to whom they might have reached, if not me? They were addressed to me, I presume. So who do you think would dare to intercept them?”

  Sten’Or kept his composure, shaking his head in a perplexed way. “I cannot imagine such a thing.”

  “And if I told you that not only can I imagine it, but I know for certain who dared? What would you say to that?”

  The Skaar commander looked away quickly and then back again. “I would say they should be punished. You are king, my lord. No one should transgress against you.” He gave Ajin a baleful look to indicate she was not above such punishment.

  “Well, then. Let’s deal with the matter in a direct way. Ajin, will you kindly step a few paces over toward your confidant?”

  He gave a nod toward Kol’Dre. Ajin did as she was told, wondering what was happening. Her father waited until he was satisfied with where she was standing, and then he stepped forward to face Sten’Or directly. “Kneel, Commander, and receive my reward for your service to the crown.”

  Sten’Or hesitated, and then knelt as ordered, eyes on the king. “Bow your head, Sten’Or.”

  As the Skaar commander did so, Cor d’Amphere nodded to a man standing off to one side whom, until now, Ajin had barely noticed. The man was a giant, all muscle and bulk. He was carrying a huge battle-ax, and at the king’s nod he came forward swiftly, the ax already rising. In a single fluid motion, he swung the blade through Sten’Or’s neck, severing his head from his shoulders. It was done so swiftly and silently that the victim was dispatched before he even knew what was happening. He died without a sound, his head rolling a few feet before coming to a stop, his body slumping to the ground in a lifeless heap. Fresh gasps rose from the soldiers who watched it happen. But Ajin never moved, her eyes fixed on her father as he strolled forward and kicked the dead man with casual indifference.

  “This man was a traitor to the crown and a pretender to the throne. He paid the price for his treachery, and now he is to be forgotten by all. His name will never be spoken again.” The king beckoned to his guards. “Take the remains and dispose of them.”

  Then he walked over and stood very close to Ajin, his voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. “He lied, Ajin, which I am pleased to be able to acknowledge you did not. It does not pay to lie to me, because I know the truth far better than my enemies or my friends or my family think.”

  He paused and bent closer still, his words meant only for her. “I found out about the messages awhile back. I knew the truth, but concluded that the truth was best not revealed. Do you understand what I am saying? You are not to speak further about this business to anyone. I will do what needs doing myself.”

  He waited for her response, so she nodded her understanding. “What action will you take?” she ventured. “You know that my mother, were she still queen, would never…”

  His hand seized her shoulder in a crushing grip. “My private affairs do not concern you!” he snapped. “You have problems enough of your own, don’t you think? Now stand back and attend me.”

  She moved to put a few additional feet between them. It occurred to her briefly that he was within easy striking distance. It would have taken her no time at all to draw any of the blades she carried and kill him on the spot. She could not be certain of the reaction of the soldiers surrounding her, but it might be worth finding out. His soldiers might kill her, but they might also accede to her claim to the throne and choose to support her. She was popular, after all. In many respects, she was one of them—raised and trained among them, a comrade-in-arms who had fought beside them and never once asked not to be first into battle.

  But killing her father, even as much as she despised him for his treatment of her mother, was not something she thought she could live with.

  “Let it be known,” Cor d’Amphere declared in an exaggerated voice intended to reach everyone, “that my daughter has exceeded her authority in bringing the advance force of the Skaar army into a confrontation with a potential enemy. She did this without permission and in a reckless manner. But I have forgiven her, and she has regained my favor and retains her rank as a full commander.”

  He paused meaningfully. “But let it also be known that when I am disobeyed, there must be punishment—even if you are the daughter of a king. So I am relieving Ajin d’Amphere, princess of the Skaar people, of her command of the advance force and ordering her back to Skaarsland where she will be confined to quarters to await my return.”

  The echo of his voice died out abru
ptly in the ensuing silence. Ajin stared at him in disbelief. “You cannot do this to me,” she hissed.

  He cocked an eyebrow, and the lines on his face tightened. “I just did. Be grateful I did not do worse. An airship with crew and guards will be provided for your return. Go gather your things and prepare yourself for departure.” He held up his hand in warning, cutting off whatever argument she was about to make with a sharp word of warning. “No, Ajin! Do not even think to argue further with me, now or later. The matter is settled. Now go!”

  She stood there amid her soldiers, disgraced and dismissed by her father, an object lesson in what it meant to displease the king. Whether you were a commoner or a king’s child, your fate was decided. She had done so much for him in her short life, given so much to show him how valuable and worthy she was of his—well, not his love perhaps, because that would be asking too much, but at least his respect.

  And now it was all being cast aside in a way that would leave her diminished in the eyes of her people.

  Now she wished she had killed him. She hated him in that moment with such passion, she would have given anything for the chance to strike him down. Nothing that might have happened to her for such an act could possibly be worse than this. His disrespect for her had burned a hole through her heart.

  Kol’Dre stepped forward, coming over to stand next to her. “I will see that the princess is safely escorted home, my lord,” he said.

  But Cor d’Amphere shook his head. “You will remain here with me, Penetrator. You are too valuable a resource to be sent home. You know much about this country and its peoples that I do not. I will need that information, and you are the one to give it to me. Say your goodbyes.”

  He turned away, walking back into the ranks of his soldiers, giving orders to them to deploy and prepare to engage in battle. His back was to her. He was not even bothering to look her way. She thought again that she could draw her blade, reach him in three quick steps, and hurt him the way he had hurt her. She had not thought him worth all that much anyway, since he had banished her mother in favor of the pretender. She almost gave in to the urge. But Kol’Dre must have read her mind, so quickly did he step in front of her, blocking her way.