Born Of Darkness (Book 7) (4 page)

As the pair entered, all eyes turned to look at Kormak and Rhiana. For a moment there was silence then the buzz of conversation started. As they moved through the crowds, Kormak picked out the words
guardian
and
merwoman
.

Frater Jonas came to greet them, garbed in his plain robe. As the son of peasants, he should have looked as out of place as they did, but somehow he fitted right in.

He glanced around with the assurance of an inquisitor and advisor to Kings. Many of the nobles present would not meet his gaze. Others glared at him once he was no longer looking at them. A few transferred their resentment to Kormak when they saw he had noticed.

“I am pleased to see you in attendance,” said Jonas. He glided past a tall noblewoman in a black dress and took a drink from a tray carried by a serving girl. With a nod he indicated they should do the same. Rhiana did. Kormak did not. “Come! Keep me company and I will endeavour to keep you entertained.”

Rhiana looked grateful to see a familiar face. Kormak moved into position on the other side of her from Jonas as he guided them through the crowd.

“See those richly garbed men off to starboard, to use an appropriately nautical term? Those are our bold captains newly arrived bearing the treasures of Terra Nova. The huge bear of a man they are talking to is Orson Waters— a commoner and aside from His Majesty the richest man in the kingdom.”

His gesture took in a group of gaudily garbed bearded men standing apart from the others. They looked self-conscious, calculating and tough. Most had the same dark skin and dark hair as Jonas. They glanced around with cool arrogance, ignoring the disdain of the golden-haired patricians. “Their shares of those cargoes will make them rich for life.”

Jonas’s nod indicated another group, this time garbed in black, blonde-haired, clean-shaven. “See the lynch mob of angry young man there, the ones clustered around the Duke of Albare? He’s the tall good-looking one with the broken nose—those are members of our Patrician faction. They disapprove of those who have acquired in one lifetime the wealth it took their forefathers generations to steal.”

Seeing them looking at him, the Duke moved towards them. He had the natural grace of the born swordsman and the arrogance of old nobility. He walked up as if he owned the ballroom. He eyed Rhiana with cool insouciance, gave Kormak a clipped smile then looked down at Jonas.

“Frater Jonas, you have returned from whatever mission took you away from us. Has some other poor unfortunate died an unnatural death?”

His voice was a languid drawl, utterly confident. Jonas did not look in the slightest intimidated. He smiled and said, “Sir Kormak, allow me to introduce you to His Grace, Leone, Duke of Albare. The Duke is a notorious duellist and a well-known wit.”

Jonas made the word
wit
sound as if he had left out the word
half
before it.

“Ah you are the famous barbarian swordsman. I have heard you are quite good with that blade.”

His manner was provoking. Kormak wondered if this was a deliberate attempt to cause a duel. The Duke did not look stupid. “I had not heard the same about you until Frater Jonas mentioned it.”

Leone frowned. Jonas’s smile widened a fraction. “The Duke is said by many to be the best swordsman in Siderea.”

The Duke’s eyed narrowed. He did not like to have his praises sung by the priest. “He has killed many men and not a few boys. The Duke believes in quantity as well as quality.”

“Be careful, priest,” Duke Leone said. “You may not always enjoy the King-Emperor’s protection.”

He turned on his heel and strode back towards his associates.

Jonas gave an apologetic shrug. “I really shouldn’t irritate the Duke but somehow, no matter my good intentions, I always end up doing so.”

“It seems like he would be an easy man to irritate,” said Kormak.

“Do not underestimate him, my friend. He is a deadly swordsman and quite clever when he reins in his temper.”

“Which is why you needle him,” Rhiana said.

“My transparency embarrasses me.”

As Jonas spoke a stately young woman emerged from the crowd to stand over him. “You are anything but transparent, Frater Jonas,” she said. “It is what makes you so appetising.”

She looked about eighteen with raven-black hair and a slender figure. Her skin was pale and her eyes were a striking blue. The calculation in them was ageless. A silver circlet encircled her forehead. Inscribed on it was the symbol of the crescent moon. Around her waist was a silver belt made of interlinked versions of the same symbols. On her fingers were many rings, all inlaid with runes of mystical significance. Her nails were long and painted with more patterns. Kormak knew that looking at them too long would hurt the eye.

“Lady Marketa, I am surprised and delighted that you have chosen to join us this evening,” Jonas said. “May I introduce Captain Rhiana, late of Port Blood, and Sir Kormak . . .”

“I know who Sir Kormak is,” Marketa said.

Her voice was low and thrilling and held a note of invitation. She gazed into Kormak’s eyes with an unblinking stare. Her red lips curved upwards into a smile. Rhiana’s grip tightened on Kormak’s arm.

“Sir Kormak,” Jonas continued. “A Guardian of the Order of the Dawn. May I present Lady Marketa, Ambassador to the King-Emperor from the Courts of the Moon.”

“I do not believe we have met before,” Kormak said.

“Let us say your fame precedes you,” Lady Marketa said.

“I did not know I was famous.”

“Your name has come up at the Silver Court.”

“You seem anxious to let me know that,” Kormak said.

“I have wanted to meet you for many years,” she said. “You’ve killed a number of my acquaintances.”

“Lady Marketa, now hardly seems like the time to bring up such matters,” said Frater Jonas. “This is a celebration, given by the King-Emperor, to mark the safe arrival of his fleet from Terra Nova.”

“I am quite aware of the circumstances, Frater Jonas. Rest assured I would do nothing to embarrass either of our lords and masters.”

She gave her provocative smile to them all and swept away. She did not need the two large armed men at her side to clear a path through the Siderean nobility. They stepped out of her way as if her touch was poisonous.

***

A single horn sounded. Silence swept across the room. King Aemon entered, garbed still in his simple monk’s robe. He smiled upon his subjects, made the sign of blessing with his right hand and began to descend the stair. His brother moved one pace behind, studying the crowd as if it might contain a threat.

The crowd parted to allow the King to find his way to his throne. Aemon progressed through the people, pausing to nod, exchange words or blessings. He looked like an absent-minded scholar but every person he spoke to was gratified by his attention.

When he stepped upon the dais, he spread his arms wide and everyone fell silent. All eyes were upon him. He dropped his gaze to the floor as if surprised by the response.

He tilted his head to one side, made a slight wave of his hand and said, “My friends, welcome to this celebration. Tonight we are truly blessed. We celebrate the safe arrival of our captains. They have passed far over the sea, outrunning even the storms of the ocean, to bring to us the wealth of the New World. We are grateful to these men for braving the dangers of the ocean and for bringing to us the means to do good work. The treasures they have dared so much to bring us will be put to the best of uses in the service of the Holy Sun. On this you have our word. Now, eat, drink and be merry, in the sight of the Angel.”

He sat down without any further word. Silence fell. Kormak guessed few people were comfortable by the reminder of the nearness of Zhamriel’s armour. He wondered if the King knew this was the case and did not care.

Prince Taran took his place beside the King and gestured for the musicians to start playing. Soon, under the eyes of the King, the ball was under way.

***

“You dance surprisingly well for a barbarian swordsman,” said Rhiana.

“And you for a pirate girl,” Kormak said. Looking over her shoulder he could see that the burning gaze of the Lunar ambassador was fixed on him. Marketa raised her wine glass to him and returned to her conversation with Frater Jonas.

“Now there is an odd couple,” Rhiana said. “The Selenean witch and the King of Siderea’s spying priest.”

“If it makes them happy,” Kormak said.

“I do not think that woman means you well,” Rhiana said.

“What gave it away? Was it the fact she mentioned I had killed people she knew . . .”

“That was one clue. Best be wary. She has the power to do harm. She is a great sorceress. She radiates power like the King-Emperor.”

“All the high level servants of the Courts of the Moon are sorcerers,” Kormak said. “Their courtiers, their generals, their assassins.”

“You’ve had dealings with them?”

“I have opposed their will in many places.”

“Maybe that’s why you are famous.”

“Infamous more likely. She was just too polite to say so.”

“I think she is anything but polite. She reminds me of the King. She is powerful enough to say whatever she wants and get away with it.”

“Perhaps here but not at the Courts. There she is only a human.”

A messenger entered the room and made his way towards the throne. His face was pale. He was breathing hard. He threaded his way through the crowd. At Prince Taran’s side, he bowed and then leaned forward to whisper something in his overlord’s ear. The Prince’s face went pale and he turned his head to speak to the King.

Aemon had been sitting there, eyes closed, moving his head in time to the music. At first, he did not respond but then his eyes snapped open, he placed his hands together as if in prayer and then rose from his throne.

“Friends, an urgent matter of state demands our attention. Please remain and enjoy our hospitality. We shall return momentarily. Brother, Frater Jonas, if you would be so good as to accompany us.” He paused for a moment and looked upwards as if seeking guidance from above. He looked startled then nodded and said, “And Sir Kormak, if you would also be so kind . . .”

Rhiana looked at Kormak.

“I have no idea,” Kormak said. He saw that Lady Marketa was watching him. A look flickered across her face. Possibly it was one of satisfaction.

Kormak strode over to join the King and his brother. As they left the hall a company of soldiers fell into place around them. They were heavily armoured and they carried naked swords. Kormak wondered if someone had attempted a coup.

“May I ask why our services are required, sire?” Frater Jonas asked.

Aemon did not appear to hear. Prince Taran replied. “Murder in the royal treasure vaults. There seems to have been sorcery involved.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY MARCHED SWIFTLY through the palace. Soldiers guarded every door, looking around with the alert glances of warriors who expect an attack at any moment. A group of link-bearers, young men bearing torches, arrived to light their way. More soldiers joined the escort till nearly a hundred men were present.

A flight of stairs led down, curving into the bowels of the rock upon which the palace sat. Shadows danced as the torches drove back the darkness. It became colder and damper and Kormak found himself thinking of the many dungeons he had experienced during his career.

They emerged into a long corridor lined with heavy ironbound doors. One was open. Worried looking warriors stood outside it. King Aemon made to sweep past but before he could do so, his brother held out his arm to bar his way.

“Sir Kormak, if you would be so kind,” Taran said.

Kormak shrugged and stepped through the doorway. The air felt clammy and still. A robed man lay in a pool of blood. Kormak inspected the body without touching it and glanced around. The chamber was huge and filled with treasure chests. Some of them had broken open and gold and silver glittered in the torchlight. Kormak saw nothing immediately threatening but he sensed that something unfriendly watched. That sensation had saved his life in the past so he paid attention to it.

He bent over the body and checked for a pulse. He flipped the corpse over. He was looking at an old man with a shaven head and bland, pudgy face. A huge wound that looked like it had been made by rending claws gaped in his side.

Taran let the King enter then strode in himself gesturing for soldiers to form a cordon around them.

“What’s going on here?” Kormak asked Prince Taran.

“Chancellor Cetreo lies dead in this vault. He and I are the only men with the keys. The vault doors are watched by the men of the Household Guard. The soldiers heard the Chancellor scream but when they entered the vault to investigate they found nothing except his body. They felt as if something was watching them.”

“These are the treasure vaults, are they not?”

Taran nodded.

“Cargo from the fleet has been deposited here all day and for the past few days.”

“You think someone may have been hidden in the chests?”

“Something. That wound was not made by a blade.”

“No. It looks like the claw mark of a sabretooth. I think we would have noticed if one of those had been locked in a chest.”

“Cetreo served us loyally all his life,” Aemon said. His tone was mild but his expression was that of a man who did not expect contradiction. “Let us see if we can get to the bottom of what happened here.”

He gestured for the soldiers to part. Their captain looked at Taran who nodded and the soldiers let the king pass. Kormak moved to Aemon’s side, more than ever feeling as if he was under observation.

The trail of blood led deeper into the cavernous chamber.

***

Aemon strode forward, his hands clasped together as if he were praying. His face was weary and his shoulders slumped. Kormak knew how he felt. He still had not recovered from the previous night’s exertions aboard the Kraken’s Reach. He felt tired and slow.

Ahead of him a line of torch bearers drove back the darkness. Kormak kept his hand near the hilt of his sword.