Bloodstone (3 page)

Jhaniikest tossed her head and laughed ruefully. "I see your ambitions are as boundless as ever, Kane. Well, I've kept all your things stuffed away somewhere. Those books are on the top level where you last saw them, probably, and you can page through them later. But before you turn scholar, you first shall entertain me. It's been a long while since I've had a visitor from the world outside my own, and my companions here have little to say that's of sparkling novelty."

Later that night, Kane followed Jhaniikest to the upper levels of the tower and into one of the chambers where she had gathered together many of the items she used in her own unfathomable pursuits. Finding the collection of scrolls and strangely bound volumes he sought, Kane seated himself at a lamp-lit table and began to examine the material, mumbling under breath as he read.

Jhaniikest swung open the wide tower window. A gust of cold mountain wind stole through the gap and fanned, the torchlight to a crackling slant of yellow. Twisting onto the ledge, she leaned outward over the abyss, fearless in her precarious perch. Moonlight glistened silver over her mane, glowed through the half-spread gossamer wings that curtained the aperture. Softly she sang a chant of high, tinkling syllables, watching with head atilt to see if Kane would wander in attention. But his brow remained set in an anxious frown as he concentrated over the crumbling pages of arcane glyphs penned by ancient and curious hands--although twice he gazed unseeingly toward her face as he distractedly reached for another volume. Suddenly his concentration deepened over the yellowed tome he was examining. Carefully he set aside Alorri-Zrokros's Book of the Elders and removed the bloodstone ring ' the pouch about his neck.

Laughter rose from his throat. Laughter reckless, triumphant in its rising tone. Laughter that unsettled the dust of silent years in the tower.

Startled at his outburst, Jhaniikest slipped to Kane's peering over his broad shoulder to discover the source of the jest.

"It's here--all here--as I remembered!" Kane pointed toward the time-stained page. "My memory has not dulled through the years... although Alorri-Zrokros's prose clings to any mind! Can you read this hand? It's an inferior transcription. See--there lies the history this ring--a tale of an Earth centuries forgotten and of those who dwelt under stars unknown to man! There... the history of Bloodstone! Shall I read to you? Would you hear of the unimaginable power that waits to be unlocked by this ring?"

Harsh voice broken in eagerness, Kane translated the scrawled writing. Once Jhaniikest interrupted with a sharp exclamation of understanding. "Kane! Don't attempt this! I see only death for you in this madness! Let this ancient power lie buried!"

But Kane rushed on.

The bloodstone gleamed... glowed under the intensity of inhuman gaze. Deep within the green depths glinted subdued evil with the sullen promise of dawn.

The knocking broke cadence with the throb of his skul1, then seemed to drift apart, a persistent drumming now accompanied by strident chant. Then the lingering webs of sleep dissolved, and Dribeck recognized the summons at his chamber door.

"Milord! Milord Dribeck! It's well past the hour you told me to awaken you!" It was his chamberlain who tormented him. "Milord! It's close to noon! You said you must be aroused before noon! Milord, are you awake? Say something so I can be sure--"

"Go to hell, Asbraln!" Dribeck croaked. "I've been up..." He tossed back the fur robes as the knocking subsided. Unsteadily he sat up and swung his legs onto the floor. Dozens of needle-pronged flashes crackled through his skull, and he pressed his forehead against his palms, leaning forward with elbows balanced on knees. Tenderly he massaged, breathing a sigh compounded of curses and groans, until the ache retreated. H became conscious that something unclean had died as mouth during the night.

Shenan's tits! That had been a night! All of Selonari must have lain awake at the noise! The major part of his gentry and mercenary captains had sat down to banquet. In the terminal stages of hangover, Dribeck regretted the improvident beakers of wine he had emptied. It was ruinous to match his brawny vassals cup for cup, but then his hold on their respect dictated that he stand in their eyes as full a man as any, for all his unassuming stature. In truth, though, Dribeck admitted that prudence had not tainted the wine's compelling savor at the time.

His face felt greasy, Dribeck noted, as he pushed back his shoulder-length black hair and stroked smooth a tangled mustache. His jaw was convincingly stubbled, although to his chagrin its growth was too sparse even at 28 years to furnish a respectable beard. A great shame, that--a beard would add a note of strength, of dashing to his somewhat gaunt features. Not a weak profile by any measure--women found it virile enough, and men described his face as "watchful" or "quick" or "cunning." Strong enough an image for the ruler of a city-state, although Dribeck might hope for one more `formidable in these times.

Shivering, he rose to his feet and pushed groggily through the curtains enclosing his bed. Pentri snorted in her sleep and half rolled to his vacated place. She was still asleep, or feigning it well--her exhaustion was gratifying, as Dribeck recalled her teasing laughter at his drunken loveplay. The rumpled furs revealed a long stretch of soft hip, but he checked his move to adjust the covering and stepped away with curtain askew. Pentri could catch cold, and Asbraln could eat his heart out. Cursing as his foot tangled in a discarded garment, Dribeck wrestled a robe over his spare frame and shuffled to the door.

Asbraln, a legacy of Dribeck's father and his tutor at arms and statecraft in younger days, swept into his lord's chamber. Glass crunched under his boot, and he regarded with raised eyebrow the strewn fragments of wine bottle. "You stated last night..." he began. His eyes widened for a second as they peered past the disarrayed curtains, and he turned his gaze quickly from the distraction. "Ah... you announced your intention to rise early to speak with Gerwein before returning to your guests."

Dribeck grunted sourly and massaged the back of his neck. Attendants were prowling about the chamber now, sorting through the debris to find fresh clothing for their master. Pentri cursed sleepily and burrowed beneath the furs. Giving her an envious look, Dribeck yielded himself to his servants' ministrations. - There were better cures for a hangover than to plunge into the tangled subtleties of Selonari statecraft,, he- reflected.

"Any word as to Gerwein's present mood or thoughts?" he inquired of his chamberlain.

Asbraln spread his fingers. "She's angry--angry and suspicious. But that's not a new story. Our high priestess, is unhappy with the increasing rumors that you intend to remove the tax exemptions the Temple of Shenan has enjoyed these many years. And this latest gathering of military power she interprets as a display 'of strength--an indication that you mean to enforce your taxation of Shenan's virgin coffers. I think she envisions a wholesale looting of the Temple wealth... and it's certain that she has unobtrusively increased the Temple guard."

"A lot of good that will be to her, if she thinks to stand against my will in this! But she must give some credence to my insistence that we strengthen our armed might against Breimen. The peace has been a tottering sham for years now, and it's common knowledge Malchion has doubled his mercenary ranks since last year."

"Gerwein is aware of this, milord. But she sees this as a threat to the Temple as well. She reasons that the expenses of another war with Breimen would only sharpen your eagerness to plunder the Temple's riches."

"Strikes me there's some contradictions in her suspicions," Dribeck mused. "Well, I'll talk with her, try placate her. I'm meeting her in the Temple, which she'll take as some concession to her prestige. And while I'm reassuring her, I can begin to plant a few thoughts in her mind on the consequences of Malchion's aggression. Her Temple would suffer more than sectarian indignities if the priests of Ommem held sway Selonari. I think her balking at taxation will be less strident once she begins to think upon this as a holy war.

"So I'll calm icy Gerwein's objections somehow--at least until the next fancied insult provokes her. Then back to my guests...I'm leaving the day's entertainment to your overseeing. I intend to take leave of Gerwein in time to join in the games this afternoon. I've been accused of scholarship too often to risk any suggestion that the martial arts aren't the center of my life and interests. Anything else of pressing significance that I need to know about today?"

Asbraln paused a moment before suggesting, "Milord, there's a man who requests audience with you--a stranger named Kane. He claims to have a matter of considerable urgency and importance which he wishes to discuss with you."

Dribeck carefully readjusted the ties of his shirt. "Discuss with me? I assume you judged his case not to be altogether a waste of my time. Obviously, he must have enough confidence in his ability to claim my, attention to warrant his passing bribes all the way up channels to my chamberlain. Well, what kind of man do you make him, and what's on his mind?"

With an air of wounded dignity Asbraln explained, "He's a strange man... savage-looking giant of a warrior, but a man of obvious breeding and refinement. Couldn't guess at his origins; he says he's from beyond the Southern Lands. I doubt he's from Wollendan, although his red hair and blue eyes remind you of that people. Age I'd guess around forty. Gives the, impression of being extremely capable--and dangerous. I'd call him a mercenary officer--one several cuts above the average-who's seeking employment. At least, all he would tell me regarding his business with you was that he wishes to show you the means to increase your armed might beyond your wildest ambitions."

"Intriguing;" Dribeck pronounced. "He comes at a fortuitous moment if his boast is true. More likely he's either crackpot or swindler--or perhaps an assassin sent by Malchion... or Gerwein? Disregarding these possibilities, I can take a few minutes to listen to him. From what you say, his sword might be worth my purchase, unless he sets too high a value on his service. Have this Kane brought to me at the games; I'll not need to grant formal audience to such a man as this. And see that he's closely watched while in my presence. If he's an assassin, he'll know his task is suicidal."

With uncertain stomach Dribeck steeled' himself to attempt the breakfast his attendants were expectantly setting.

Arrows thudded a staccato rhythm into the wooden targets. Like a dull reverberation followed the shouts of spectator and archer together, a riotous clamor of cheers, curses, catcalls, advice. The mood was jovial, and the sour scent of beer made heady the cool air of Selonari's martial field. Already the games had progressed to the point where betting was fiercely earnest when Lord Dribeck returned from the Temple of Shenan.

His session with the high priestess had gone a little easier than expected, although Dribeck knew better than to hope Gerwein had abandoned either suspicion or ambition. Still, every day their confrontation could be delayed was a step toward victory for Dribeck and his party. Feeling more at ease, he greeted his guests with casual roughness suited to the situation and tossed off a foamy mug of beer, shouting for more to soothe a throat made arid from his tedious meeting with Gerwein. His stomach squirmed in protest before subsiding, for Dribeck loathed the taste of beer. But the alcohol seemed to blot over his lingering hangover, and he began to take in the celebrative spirit of the afternoon. Followed by a few of his closest supporters, Dribeck mingled with his guests, exchanging loud greetings and reckless wagers. He was becoming interested himself in the archery match when Asbraln approached to remind him of his half-forgotten appointment.

At Asbraln's introduction Dribeck turned a politely quizzical face toward the stranger while his mind considered the man speculatively. He was a formidable figure, this Kane, with a hulking, powerful stature that belied the feral grace of his movements. His rather brutal countenance managed to project a high degree of intellect to an eye discerning enough to penetrate its harsh savagery. The eyes... there was something chilling in their glint, a certain reflection of cold-blooded ruthlessness that underscored the impressions Dribeck had sensed. Kane was a hard-bitten warrior who had cut his way through many a battle and hardship, and his bearing indicated that he had led more often than followed. Whatever land he had last fought in, he had departed not without wealth: his garments of red wool and black leather adorned with silver studs, though not new, were not the garb of a common mercenary; nor was the sword whose hilt--unmistakably Carsultyal workmanship--protruded above his right shoulder a blade of usual quality.

On impulse, Dribeck extended his hand. The wrist his fingers closed upon was thick with sinew and muscle, while his own wrist was enshrouded in a long fingered grip of measured strength. He wondered unpleasantly with what force might that grip tighten in anger as he retrieved his hand and gestured toward a servant to bring beer to the newcomer.

"Kane arrives bearing gifts," broke in Asbraln obliquely. He weighed the cracked leather volume apprehensively, wondering if its discolored binding might disguise some inconceivable assassinaton scheme. "This book," he explained lamely, as he offered it to his lord. Absently he brushed his hands across his stocky thighs, leaving faint grayish smudges trailing along the yellow wool.

Conscious of Kane's scrutiny, Dribeck opened the volume and concentrated over the unfamiliar characters. His thin face broke into a smile of enthusiastic appreciation. "Look, Asbraln! It's Laharbyn's Principles of Sovereignty--and in the original Carsultyal! An early transcription, by the writing!"

"I had thought you might find Laharbyn's work of interest," commented Kane smoothly. "Your interest in the finer arts is well known, so I presumed that a book might please you by way of introduction. Particularly since these works from Carsultyal's days of glory seldom reach this far west. Laharbyn has some intriguing observations on the consolidation of state power... You read Carsultyal, I see."