She dragged his body off the road and out of sight, wedging it against a pair of young saplings so it wouldn't roll. The forest scavengers would pick his bones clean in no time. In her opinion, he didn't deserve a burial any more than the men he'd killed deserved their deaths. She stripped him of the money he carried. If any of the three he'd murdered had families, they could use the coin, and if fate were kind, she'd have a chance to return it to Serovek to give to them. She also recovered the knife Ogran had thrown where it lay in the road and returned to Magas waiting patiently where she'd tied him.
A more peaceful person might say her killing Ogran wouldn't bring back the men he killed or save Serovek from an execution, but in her mind, it was justice, and if circumstance had seen fit to let her deal that justice, so be it. She hoped the same might happen with Serovek's steward Bryzant.
She reached Saggara a day and a half later, tired, filthy, and ready to switch an equally tired Magas for a fresh mount so she could ride to the Beladine capital after relaying her news to Brishen. She galloped through the gates of the redoubt and had barely reined the big stallion to a halt before she was out of the saddle and striding toward the doors of the expansive manor house that had once been the long-ago summer palace of Kai royalty. She spotted Brishen's steward, Mesumenes, as he emerged into the main bailey from the manor. His eyes rounded when he spotted her. “Where's the herceges, steward?”
She handed Magas's reins to a nearby soldier. “Take him to the stables. Have the stablemaster give him the best care.” She patted the stallion's neck before he was led away. “Good horse,” she said. The horse rolled an eye at her as if to say he was indifferent to her good opinion then followed the soldier to the stables.
Mesumenes had disappeared back into the manor. Anhuset strode after him, only to be greeted at the threshold by Brishen who burst through the doors and swooped her into his arms.
“Lover of thorns,” he said into her hair, squeezing her until she gasped. “I was about to send all of Saggara out looking for you.”
She briefly returned his embrace, noting the pinched worry lines around his mouth. “I'm fine. There's much to tell and messages to give, but I have to make it fast. Serovek needs my help. As soon as I give you my news, I'll ride from here with rations and a fresh horse to Timsiora and...”
“Sha-Anhuset.” Brishen's voice was calm but implacable, addressing her as his sha instantly focusing her attention back to him. His features softened. “Enough.” He squeezed her arm. “Enough. Come with me.” He nudged her toward the door, inviting her inside.
She exhaled a frustrated sigh, entering the house at his side. “Herceges, I mean no disrespect, but I don't have time for friendly chatting.”
“But you will make time to plan instead of racing off with no idea in mind as to how you'll break Serovek out of a Beladine prison for treason and sedition.”
She halted, caught by surprise. “You know.”
Brishen nodded. “A messenger from High Salure managed to sneak out of the fortress and ride to Saggara. Rodan sent troops to arrest Serovek at the monastery. High Salure is currently under the command of one of King Rodan's military advisers. The messenger told me it was seized by royal troops and will be held until Rodan decides what to do with Serovek.”
Her anger at the injustice of Serovek's predicament had simmered in her blood from the moment the troop captain had announced the charges. It heated to a boil now. “He's innocent of both charges. His fucking steward tried to have him killed by a warlord and now by his own king. The warlord himself admitted it as did the steward's henchman before I cut his throat and left his corpse to the crows.”
Brishen's eyebrows rose. He gestured for her to keep up with him as they made their way through the busy great hall to one of the more private chambers he used for meetings and set in a short wing of the house. “When we aren't trying to figure out how to help our friend, you'll tell me that story.”
He ushered her inside one of the rooms—familiar to her and one she disliked. It was in this room they and the Elsod had hatched a plan to defeat the galla and change the Kai nation forever. Brishen was closing the door when a bright-haired figure darted inside.
Ildiko blew a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “You found her! Thank the gods.”
Anhuset bowed. “Hercegesé.” It was an odd thing to hear the relief in Ildiko's voice. She and Anhuset got along well enough, and Anhuset's admiration for Brishen's ugly human wife grew a little more each day. She was a worthy consort to the regent and devoted mother to a child not her own.
Ildiko didn't try to embrace her as Brishen had, but she smiled a wide, square-toothed smile. “I think the worry took a decade off Brishen's life.”
“I assure you that was never my intention,” Anhuset said.
Brishen leaned against the closed door and crossed his arms. “Since we're obviously pressed for time, tell me what happened, and we'll go from there.”
She didn't waste a moment recounting their journey to the monastery, starting first with what she knew would displease him—their side trip to Haradis. Brishen's expression, usually mild, turned harsh, every angle sharpening with his growing scowl, especially when she told him of the galla still lurking behind the walls and how she believed it had been a manifestation of Megiddo that had saved them. Anhuset glanced at Ildiko. The hercegesé didn't scowl as her husband did, but her face was even paler than when she first rushed into the room.
“Serovek should have never brought you there,” Brishen said, voice flat. Angry. “And neither one of you should have gone into that cursed place.”
“The decision was mine, Brishen. I would have gone alone if he refused to accompany me.” Anhuset lifted her palms in a supplicating gesture. “I know why you refuse to revisit Haradis or allow others to do so. I understand. Truly. But had I not done so, we wouldn't have known about the canals dug or the fact there was a galla trapped in there. Maybe more.” Saying that sent a shiver through her, and Ildiko hugged herself as if warding off the cold.
Brishen's expression only hardened even more. “Be that as it may, I am ordering you as your regent and your commander to stay away from Haradis. You will not go back there without my express permission. Is that understood?”
Mild-mannered and jovial most of the time, though less so since the galla's ravages, Brishen angered was a formidable sight to behold. The few times Anhuset had seen him like this, he'd reminded her of both his parents. Ruthless, implacable, dangerous to cross. She bowed. “Yes, herceges.”
“Continue,” he said, and his voice was no longer as chilly as before.
She told him of the bridge that shouldn't be there and the haunted city with its phantasmal queen and her entourage of ghosts, of Bryzant's and Ogran's betrayal of Serovek, of Chamtivos and their ordeal in the camp as well as the fight on the island and the monks' arrival there.
Brishen raised a hand to halt her narrative. The yellow of his eye flickered from dark to light with the change of his emotions. Swirling ribbons of fear laced with shock and worse, guilt. “Are you all right?” That one-eyed gaze passed over her slowly, looking for signs of injury.
Anhuset nodded, quick to quash any notion that she blamed him in some way for Chamtivos's actions. “I've been in worse shape coming back from patrol. The Nazim monks are good fighters, even better healers, and impressive sorcerers.” She winced inwardly at the note of envy she couldn't hide when she said the last and winced again at the faint sadness in Brishen's face. “The Beladine king would do well to keep them as allies instead of proclaiming them heretics and turning them into enemies.”
She finished with a retelling of the royal troop's arrival and her and Erostis's flight. She kept her encounter with Ogran even briefer. He didn't deserve her time or Brishen's ear.
She said nothing at all about the halcyon days at the monastery while Serovek recovered—in her arms, in his bed.
Brishen gave a low whistle. “After all of that, it's hard to belie
ve you and the others managed to get Megiddo safely to his brothers.”
Anhuset recalled Serovek's dreams, the ethereal blue light in his gaze just like the one she'd seen in Brishen's. The same light that sometimes flared around Megiddo's bier. There was no better time than now, with Ildiko present, and the three of them alone in this chamber where others couldn't hear.
“Herceges,” she said, and saw him stiffen at the tone in her voice. “You should know that while I traveled with the margrave, I witnessed more than once what looked like remnants of Kai magic on him.” Ildiko's short gasp sounded beside her. “He dreamed of Megiddo, but it was more than a dream. A vision was more like it, of the monk tortured in some cursed place swarming with galla. I woke him from one such dream, and when he opened his eyes, they glowed with the blue light of Elder magic. Megiddo's bier glowed the same way at the time.” She paused as Brishen's skin turned the lackluster shade of fireplace ash. “The margrave told me he's had such dreams since returning home from fighting the galla and says they're worse, stronger, sharper, and more numerous when he's in close proximity to the monk's body.”
“Brishen,” Ildiko said softly. He held up a finger to stop her from saying anything else, making Anhuset wonder if the hercegesé had finally confronted her husband about his own visions and the azure glow in his eye.
“We'll attend to that later,” he said. “For now, Serovek has more to worry about than visions of Megiddo. The messenger who came here said while there's a military adviser controlling High Salure for now, this Bryzant you mentioned has left High Salure to speak with the king at Timsiora, no doubt to argue for a sentence of guilt and the punishment of death for his erstwhile lord.”
Anhuset growled. “That treacherous pus bucket wants High Salure for himself or a reward of equal value from the king. He set all of this in motion the moment Serovek left for the monastery. I'm going to kill that bastard just like I did his minion.” She caught Brishen's half smile. “It isn't funny, Brishen,” she snapped. “I've given my report. I need a horse and supplies so I can ride out again. I don't have time for more talk.” Her reason told her such recklessness would do no one any good, but her emotions ran high and hot at the moment, verging on an uncharacteristic panic that also made her waspish.
“Make time,” he replied, undaunted by her anger. “By the look of you, you haven't slept or eaten for a couple of days, have half the forest stuck in your hair, and you smell worse than a bog. You want to help the margrave? Start with a bath and some food.” It was his turn to offer a placating gesture at her glare. “If you march into King Rodan's court demanding an audience or worse, that Serovek be set free, it's a certainty they'll execute him. He's highborn and high-ranking. He'll be granted a trial and the right to rebut his accusers.”
“A mock court and a mockery of justice.” She paced in front of Brishen.
“Guaranteed, but a trial, even the sham of one, buys more time. Give me the chance to remind myself of the details of Beladine justice and form a plan. He's my friend too. Use the time to map your best and fastest route to Timsiora. If you want an escort, take whomever you think will benefit you best.”
“That would be you,” she said, already knowing his answer and knowing too she'd make the journey to Timsiora alone.
His eyelid slid down, covering his eye while the one over his empty eye socket fluttered. He opened his eye once more to study her, such fondness in his features, it made her heart ache for this prince of no value who had saved a world. “I only wish I could,” he said. “But we both know that isn't possible.”
Ildiko, only an observer and listener during their time in the room, finally spoke. She brushed Anhuset's elbow with her fingers. “Come with me,” she said. “I already sent Mesumenes to find someone to prepare a room for you and bring up food, drink, and water for a bath.” Her nose wrinkled to emphasize the need for the third.
“I can just go to the barracks,” Anhuset said. She was always more comfortable there than here with its echo of ancient royal Kai splendor, a splendor not for her.
“I think not,” Ildiko replied, and her voice had taken on the same resolute tone her husband's had only moments earlier.
Brishen chuckled. “Go on, cousin. You won't win.”
“Hold that thought for when I return, husband,” Ildiko said to him, and the grim promise in her reply chased his half smile away.
The two women were halfway to the room reserved for her when Anhuset said “You're going to confront him about his own visions and the light flare of sorcery you've seen with him, aren't you?”
Ildiko nodded. “Count on it. You did me a favor by describing Serovek's own experiences. If you'd told Brishen in confidence, he might not have told me, afraid I'd worry.”
“But you're already worried.”
“Such is the reasoning of men, Anhuset,” she said and rolled her eyes, making Anhuset take a step back.
She soon followed Ildiko into one of the spacious chambers usually reserved for guests at Saggara. True to her word, food, a pitcher of wine and a hip bath filled with steaming water awaited her. Towels and soap were stacked on a chair next to the bath, along with a rinse pitcher, and clean clothes were laid across the bed. A cheery fire danced in the hearth to chase away some of the room's cold.
Ildiko gestured to the chair. “It appears they forgot a comb, and you're in desperate need of one,” she said, more matter-of-fact than insulting. “I know you well enough by now to know you'll refuse a maid, so I'll send someone up to drop the comb off to you.” She left Anhuset standing next to the table of food, pausing on the threshold, one hand on the door. “We're glad you're returned, Anhuset. I don't think I've ever seen Brishen afraid until you didn't come back when expected.” She closed the door softly behind her.
Anhuset stared at the surface of planking studded with nails and bound with strap hinges. “Then you never saw him when he feared for you, hercegesé” she said softly.
With no choice but to give Brishen the time he requested, she ate the food brought and drank the wine, though if someone were to ask her what she consumed and how it tasted, she couldn't say. It was sustenance, nothing more. Her mind was elsewhere, or specifically, on someone. Every worst-case scenario played out in her mind regarding Serovek's fate. A cursory or bypassed trial, an even faster execution via the gallows rope or the headman's ax. She shoved aside her half-finished plate and downed the rest of the wine.
Steam no longer wafted off the water's surface in her bath, but it was still warm enough. Besides, she wasn't using it to relax but to wash away days of road dirt and sweat, not to mention the spit and blood Ogran had managed to splatter on her. She was thoroughly sick of being splashed with bodily fluid from human males.
What about Serovek? the small evil voice inside her mocked.
That's not even in the same realm, she thought as she peeled off her filthy clothes and kicked them aside before stepping into the bath. She sank to her knees, allowing the water to rise to her chin and lap at her earlobes. The memories of making love to Serovek chased away the less pleasant ones of battles and beatings and blood. They blunted the sharp edges of the panic that threatened to suffocate her.
He'd lived up to his reputation as a superior lover. He'd made her body sing under his hands and mouth. Even now it hummed at the memory him inside her, the stretch and swell of his cock as he thrust into her, a slow up and back motion that increased in speed as he cupped her buttocks in his hands and suckled the sensitive hollow where her neck curved to her collarbone.
Her body missed him, but her spirit missed him even more. Anhuset had taken lovers before who, while maybe not as well endowed, knew how to please their partners as well as Serovek did. She didn't miss or crave them, didn't linger on the recollections of their intimacy, wouldn't remember their faces if some of them didn't serve under Brishen's command here at Saggara. The margrave though… she missed it all. The sex, yes, but just as much or even more, the time they spent together in conversation or the complet
ion of mundane tasks, even the fear and thrill of fighting. Those previous lovers had never looked at her beyond the intimidating sha who had the regent's trust and was good with a sword. The margrave had, from the very first moment he met her, made it plain he was very much enamored with what he saw. Not just sha-Anhuset, the Kai warrior, but Anhuset, the prickly, guarded woman who knew her way around a blade but couldn't conquer a hair ribbon if her life depended on it.
“Don't you dare die on me, you arrogant bastard,” she said, glaring at the opposite wall as if Serovek stood there watching her with one of his bold smiles.
Dwelling on those lovelier moments made her heart ache, so she pushed them down into the recesses of her mind and tended to her bath. By the time she was finished, the water was murky, and she still hadn't washed her hair.
Ildiko returned with a procession of servants in tow carrying a smaller tub and several buckets of more warm water. A pair of burly servants hauled in her chest of clothes. They set their items down where she instructed and shooed them out when they were done. Ignoring Anhuset's dour scrutiny, she peered at the water and curled her lip. “As I thought. No longer fit for getting your hair clean. Are you done? If so, step out and I'll help you with your hair.”
“I don't need help, and why did you bring my chest?”
“Have you seen your hair?” Ildiko eyed her as if she were a little dim. “You need help.” She pointed to the chest. “You know best what you'll want to wear for your journey to Timsiora. You can dress and pack in here, then come downstairs when you're finished. Now, out of that bath.”
Muttering to herself about wasting time and being just dirty and not an invalid—all which Ildiko blissfully ignored—Anhuset stepped out of the larger one to kneel in the smaller one and allowed Ildiko to wash her hair for her.
“This is wrong,” she protested after the first dousing with one of the water buckets to thoroughly wet her hair. “It's my task or even the task of a servant since you think I need help, not that of the hercegesé.”
The Ippos King: Wraith Kings Book Three Page 31
