Angelaeon Circle 2 - Eye of the Sword (25 page)

Trevin started to ask about the words Flametender had spoken, but he couldn’t recall them, and as he returned the harp to his pack, the weariness of the journey fell over him. He felt as empty as the palace. Melaia in Qanreef. Dwin in the Dregmoors.

He went back to his cider. “Why didn’t you go to Qanreef?”

Jarrod selected a loaf of bread from a shelf. “Melaia insisted I stay here and wait for your return. She feared you would hear the news from someone else.”

“What news?”

“Her betrothal to Varic was made public within a fortnight of your leaving.”

Trevin stared into his cider, his throat tight. “Isn’t there a customary waiting period?”

“Two months,” said Jarrod.

“Then it’s not consummated.”

“Melaia legally belongs to Varic. The decree is binding.”

Trevin rubbed his forehead. “The king led her to believe he wouldn’t pledge her to Varic—at least until I returned. He betrayed her.”

“He doesn’t see it that way, I’m sure.” Jarrod chucked a wooden plate of bread onto the table and sat. “Varic accused you of Nash’s murder and asked for permission to bring you to justice. The king agreed, but Varic returned—”

“With the news that I killed the prince of Eldarra.”

Jarrod studied Trevin. “Did you?”

“It was Varic’s doing.”

Jarrod tore off a piece of bread. “Nash died at Varic’s hand as well. Dwin snooped around and discovered that a little over a year ago Varic forged messages to the comains and secured the scrolls with the king’s seal, which he got from—”

“Nash?”

“Nash. Who was presumably paid quite well for sealing the scrolls.”

Trevin tore off a hunk of bread. “So Varic had been in Redcliff before?”

“Fornian. That’s what made Dwin suspicious. When Varic and his friends arrived at Redcliff with Dwin, Nash became greedy and asked a higher price to stay silent. Varic ensured his silence, but it was Nash who paid the price.”

“Dwin discovered all that?”

“Hesel let it slip over their cups one night.”

“Does King Laetham know all this?”

“Dwin brought the accusation in private to Lord Beker, along with the list of accounts he showed you. Beker took it to the king. Since the only proof was the list of accounts, Hesel was banished as a gash runner. Varic took him away in chains to his justice in the Dregmoors.”

Trevin snorted. “Varic gave Hesel his freedom.”

“And King Laetham got the matter off his shoulders. Hesel didn’t return.”

“Did Dwin find out what happened to the comains?”

“No.” Jarrod brushed crumbs from his robe. “Nor did he discover what the messages said.”

“That
I
know,” said Trevin. “I found Main Catellus.”

“Where?”

“In Eldarra. It’s a long story, but he says the messages summoned the comains to Qanreef.”

“Qanreef,” Jarrod mused. “I’m sure Pym is eager to follow that trail.”

Trevin leaned back against the wall, exhausted. “Does the king truly believe I killed Nash and Prince Resarian?”

“Melaia never believed it, and she asked me to tell you so. As for the king, I think he hoped you wouldn’t return so he wouldn’t be forced to conduct an inquiry. He’s hungry for peace with the Dregmoors.”

“Even if it includes selling his daughter to a Dregmoorian snake? Do you know why they take children as payment for gash? Children’s blood mixed with gash gives the drink its youth-renewing properties.”

Jarrod paled. “All the more reason for the harps to be united as soon as possible.” He stared at the pack on the bench. “You might try to see the advantage of Melaia’s marriage to Varic.”

“Advantage? If Melaia is wed to Varic, she’ll be taken to the Dregmoors.”

“Exactly. It’s almost certain the third harp is there. Melaia’s marriage could give her the opportunity to find it. Besides, some of us believe the harps must be united in the Dregmoors.”

Trevin scowled at Jarrod. “You didn’t tell Melaia that, did you?”

“I did.”

“You
want
her to go into the Dregmoors?”

“I want her to have hope. If she’s forced to marry the boor, at least she might see some purpose in it.”

“Why unite the harps in the Dregmoors? The Durenwoods would make more sense. Or Tabaitta Canyon. Or Eldarra.”

“Because the Wisdom Tree stood in the Dregmoors before Rejius destroyed it.”

“Blast it all, Jarrod!” Trevin rose, his fists clenched. “How can you be so calm about this? You’ve no qualms about seeing your half sister married to a conniving murderer?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“But nothing!” Trevin leaped up and kicked his stool at the stone hearth, where it split with a crack. He stomped to the corner and grabbed his staff. “Melaia charged me with the task of finding the harps.
You
stop the marriage.
I’ll
go to the Dregmoors.”

revin stormed out of the temple into the moonlight, stabbing the flagstones with his staff at every step. If events had gone as planned, he would have presented the harp to Melaia tonight and escorted the company of Angelaeon to King Laetham first thing the next morning as proof of the alliance with Eldarra. He would have summoned Catellus to shed light on the problem of the comains. He would have spoken the truth about Varic. As Trevin had imagined it, King Laetham would thank his comain and refuse to wager his daughter to Varic in trade for a peace that would be superficial at best.

“Fool plans!” He whacked a tethering post.

“Betrayed by the king, hmm?” asked a husky voice.

Trevin turned as Ollena emerged from the shadows beside the temple wall. He was not surprised he hadn’t sensed her, because his mind was raging.

“You were eavesdropping,” he said.

She shook her head. “Just guarding. I couldn’t help but overhear as I walked by the temple window. Care to stroll the perimeter with me?”

Trevin exhaled slowly. A walk would help him cool down. In silence he followed Ollena up the stone stairs to the top of the inner wall surrounding the palace and its grounds. She smelled like sandalwood. A comforting scent.

They strode halfway around the palace before Ollena spoke. “I hope you’re not offended that I heard your conversation. Keen hearing is one of my gifts.”

Trevin wondered what else she had heard. “Keen eyesight is one of mine.” He nodded toward the opposite wall where Catellus’s burly form paced in the darkness. “Maybe we all keep an eye on each other.”

Ollena’s husky chuckle warmed him. “I wanted to tell you I know how it feels,” she said. “I was betrayed once.”

Trevin shot her a questioning look but said nothing, not wishing to pry into her private affairs.

For a moment they strolled in silence. Then Ollena said, “I was not always as humble as I am now.”

Trevin looked away, twisting his mouth in an effort to keep from laughing aloud.

“About seven years ago I journeyed into the foothills of Montressi to take part in an archery contest. I made friends there with a man named Orin, who was a worthy opponent. The contest came down to the two of us.”

“And you won,” said Trevin.

“I did. Proudly. Orin invited me to join him and his friend Rikin in a hunt before they returned to their homeland. I was smitten by Rikin’s dark-eyed charm. He spoke like a lover, said his heart was mine.” Ollena trailed her hand along the top of the parapet. “Eldarrans have a saying: ‘Like cats, flatterers lick and then scratch.’ I should have known better. But I was in love with love, hmm?”

Trevin eyed Ollena. Her sunset-red energy intrigued him now that they were not sparring but simply talking as friends. “You obviously found him out. And I wager you slew more game than the men did.”

Ollena chuckled. “I flaunted myself to gain their admiration. One evening over the campfire, Rikin and Orin asked my secret for spotting game. I told them I didn’t see game but knew its exact location and size by its sound, because keen hearing is my gift. That night I heard them whispering while they thought I was asleep. They planned to lure me into their service as a spy. The wretches!”

“You confronted them?”

“Actually, I ran,” she said. “They tracked me, but with my hearing I knew when they were nearby. They gave up long before I reached the box canyon.”

“Betrayal by the king is one thing,” said Trevin. “Betrayal by someone who plays the lover is another matter.” Even as he spoke, he realized he had done the same thing to Melaia the previous fall when he’d led her and her harp to Lord Rejius. He pressed his hand to the harp pendant. She had forgiven him. It was more than he deserved.

Ollena gazed at the palace, where flickering lights shone from three windows on the first floor. “I brought some Eldarran sweetmeats with me for the journey. They’re in my room. Would you like some?”

Trevin eyed the dome of the temple. “I should head back to Jarrod. He has a stool he needs me to mend.”

Early the next morning Jarrod met with Trevin and the group from Eldarra. Jarrod reported skirmishes between malevolents and Angelaeon along the Davernon River, the border between Camrithia and the Dregmoors. The malevolents seemed intent on keeping routes open for raiders. In addition, encampments of gash warriors had been spied on the northeastern bank of the Davernon.

After debating the situation, the group decided to divide into two. Sorabus, Xenio, and Nevius would stay in Redcliff to arrange for deliveries of supplies from the north and to coordinate the efforts of the Angelaeon. Meanwhile, Trevin and the others would ride south to Qanreef.

Once the meeting adjourned, Trevin wasted no time getting his group on the road. He headed out of Redcliff with Pym, Catellus, Livia, Ollena, and Jarrod. They wove around the steaming landgashes in the valley south of Redcliff but did not follow the highway over the hills. Instead, they took a trail that led to Stillwater. Trevin had walked the same path by moonlight the previous fall with Pym, Livia, and Melaia, who had been angry with him at the time. Even then he had already lost his heart to her.

Late in the afternoon on the second day, the group crested a hill and saw the city of Navia across the field ahead. Trevin swallowed a knot of guilt. Last autumn he had sent Dregmoorian raiders south from Treolli. Not specifically to Navia, but that was where they ended up.

Trevin eyed the city for signs of damage as they approached. The overlord’s tower still dominated the buildings, topped by four cornerstones that looked like hands beseeching the sky. The white dome of the temple was intact but streaked with soot, and the city walls still stood, though they were flame scarred.

He led his companions through the rebuilt main gates and found the city a strange mix of new whitewashed houses and charred skeletal frames. Fortunately, they found an inn in good condition, though the innkeep, a puff-jowled man, warned that he had only meager provisions.

“I’m running low on account of the number of travelers passing through on their way west,” he said, “but my wife will do her best to fill your bellies.” He led them past two long tables of sour-faced customers and upstairs to rooms that overlooked the common area.

“Why so many travelers of late?” asked Trevin.

“The east bears the brunt of the blight right now,” said the innkeep. “Their farms are scored by landgashes. Many are giving up, hoping for better living elsewhere.”

“They’re leaving the east part of the kingdom open for the Dregmoorians to stroll right in,” murmured Jarrod.

“Aye, and the raiders still ply their trade, sure enough.” The innkeep opened the doors to three rooms.

Trevin wasn’t surprised that raids continued in spite of the betrothal, but he wanted to hear this man’s view of it. “I thought we had a peace treaty,” he said, stacking his packs with Jarrod’s in a room not much bigger than an alcove at the Redcliff palace.

“The royal betrothment brings the hope of peace,” said the innkeep, “but I wager we’ll not have true peace ’til the marriage is official, signed and sealed. ’Til then, Navians are afeared these raiders will take it into their heads to venture here again. Even if they don’t, with Lord Silas abed and not long for this world, I’ll not be surprised if our locals skirmish over who’ll be the next overlord.”