Empire of Avarice (52 page)

“Could we contest the seas if matters came to a head
with Venn?” Isbel asked Panat.

“I doubt it, ma’am; their seamanship is superior to ours
and their fleets bigger and better trained.”

There was a brief silence. The empress sighed and leaned
back. “Then we will have to wait and see what the Tybar reply is before
determining what our next move is. Frendicus, how is the treasury doing?”

“Good so far, ma’am. Taxes are beginning to come in and
trade is beginning to flow once more. The building projects are gathering pace.
The roads have been repaired in Bathenia and Pelponia, and the new paved road
network completed in Frasia. The port of Kalkos close to Turslenka has been
repaired and merchant ships can once more sail from there. I am told that
Zipria has completed a programme of land clearance in order to grow more
foodstuffs; they’re looking to become more self-sufficient, and to send surplus
to the rest of the empire.”

“That must cost a fair amount of money,” the merchant
Elethro Ziban commented. “I trust we won’t have to pay more tax for this
programme of rebuilding.”

Isbel shook her head. “We’re conscious of not exceeding
our income. We’re making efforts to improve the trade infrastructure throughout
the empire. Tell everyone what is planned for the next year, Frendicus.”

“Approval has been given for the roads to be repaired
throughout Makenia and Zipria, the port of Parsot on the northern tip of
Pelponia to be improved and enlarged, and a grain exchange to be built in
Niake.”

“Indeed?” Elethro said, pleasantly surprised. “That will
attract many merchants and traders to Niake.”

“Our intentions exactly,” Isbel nodded. She stood up,
and the council did likewise. “I thank you all for your time. We shall
reconvene once news of the Tybar reply is received. Good day to you all.”

 As the meeting broke up, two boys were lying together
in a narrow alcove, hidden from view by a statue and a wide fronded plant
arranged at the base of the plinth the statue was stood upon. Prince Argan
looked at Kerrin with wide eyes. “So that’s what a Tybar looks like,” he said
in wonder. Kijimur had walked straight past them, escorted by two
volgar-wielding palace guardsmen to his quarters.

“He doesn’t look much different,” Kerrin said with a
disappointed voice.

“No, but he did have a funny mouse-tash. Did you see the
way it waved in the air as he walked?” The two chuckled quietly, not wishing to
be discovered. It had been Argan’s idea to hide in the alcove; his curiosity
about the Tybar visitor had been too much to resist, and Kerrin had eagerly
agreed to join his friend in their secret hiding place. They could peer out
through the fronds of the plant and unless a passer-by was especially alert and
looking at them at that moment, they were unseen to all those who walked along
the corridor that led to the throne room.

“They’re all so serious looking, ‘Gan,” Kerrin remarked.
“Do you think we’ll be serious like that when we’re grown-ups?”

“I don’t want to be,” Argan said, nodding to emphasise
his words. “I’m always being told that to be a prince is serious stuff. It’s so
stuffy! I got to do this, and not that, and it gets my head all wobbly! I can’t
remember when I’ve got to do something at the right time. I tell you, ‘Rin,
being a prince is stinky.”

“Well I think it’s great. You get people bowing to you
all the time and you’re in charge, telling them what to do. If I was a prince
I’d tell lots of people what to do, like do their buttons up properly and don’t
wipe their noses on their sleeves.”

“Who does that?” Argan asked.

“Oh, runny-nose Davan. Have you seen his nose sometimes?
Great huge green blobs falling out of it. I think it’s his brains coming out, I
tell you!”

Argan sniggered. “Davan’s a stableboy, so he’s going to
have a runny nose. Did you see that equine the other day with a green nose? Ugh!
Davan’s just being like them!”

“How do equines get rid of their runny noses? They can’t
wipe it on their legs, can they?”

The prince looked thoughtful. “No, I don’t know that
one. Maybe they get the stableboy to wipe it for them, and Davan’s showing them
we can get runny noses too.”

They giggled again. They had to stop as footsteps came
to them and Argan tugged on Kerrin’s sleeve and motioned him to be quiet. A
guard passed by, whistling. Kerrin tutted. “He’s not allowed to do that! Whistling
on duty – I heard father say that the other day. Whistling is not allowed on
duty! He’s very strict, you know.”

“I know,” Argan said with feeling. “I still got sore
fingers from that sword.” Argan’s weapon training had been intense. He’d been
given a wooden sword to practice with and had sulked, wanting a proper one,
until Kerrin’s father had slapped him on the fingers for not holding the sword
correctly with a wooden one he was holding.

“Until you learn to use that one properly, Prince
Argan,” he had said sternly, “you will not use a proper sword.”

Argan hadn’t told his mother as he didn’t want to be
thought of a cry-baby and a tell-tale. Besides, he thought telling his mother
might get Kerrin’s father in trouble and he was Kerrin’s friend. “That guard
should know better,” he said.

“You going to tell Vosgaris?” Kerrin asked. “He should
know.”

“Nah, Vosgaris is too nice. He won’t tell him off. You
father would, though! By the gods – if your father was in charge of the guard
they’d all be scared stiff!”

“I bet,” Kerrin agreed. “He’d shout at them and make
them wee their armour!”

Argan put his hand to his mouth and sniggered. “If they
did that, would it squirt out anywhere?”

“Yeah, would it come out of the sides or front? All over
the place? Father would be even more cross!”

The two broke into chuckles and jabbed each other on the
arm.

“And what’s so funny, then?” a voice from above made
both jump.

They looked up and saw Vosgaris peering at them over the
top of the plant. He’d heard them giggling as he had come walking along, having
left the council meeting. “Uh, nothing!” Argan said, smiling, but he could feel
himself going red.

“Now you should know better than that, young Prince. You
two had best get out of there before anyone else sees you.” The two boys
reluctantly got to their feet and pushed through the foliage and stood before
the captain, looking down at their feet. Vosgaris stood with his hands on his
hips, shaking his head slowly. “So what was funny, then?”

“Uh,” Kerrin looked at Argan, nudging him. “G’on, tell
him!”

“Young Prince?” Vosgaris asked patiently.

Argan clucked his tongue at Kerrin. “You shouldn’t have
said anything, ‘Rin! We were wondering where a guard wee’ed out of.”

Vosgaris stared at the two boys, resisting the urge to
explode into laughter. “Did you now? Well that isn’t something little boys
should think about, is it? Best you don’t talk about such things again. I’m
sure there are other much more pleasant things to talk about. Anyway, what were
you two doing behind there in the first place?”

“We were having a rest, Vosgaris.”

“A rest,” Vosgaris repeated slowly. “Beds are for
resting on, not statue alcoves. Now I’m sure you two have something better to
do. I’m sure it’s time for studies. Shouldn’t you be going to see Mr. Sen,
young Prince? And you, Kerrin, I’m sure your father would be pleased to see
you. He must be wondering where you’ve got to!”

“Oh yes,” Kerrin nodded. “Got to go. See you later,
‘Gan!”

“Later, ‘Rin!”

Kerrin vanished along the corridor by turning the next
corner. Vosgaris sighed. “Prince Argan, I could get into deep trouble with your
mother if she knew what you were up to.”

“I won’t tell her; she’s such a fuss-pot anyway. Will
you walk with me to Mr. Sen’s room?”

Vosgaris tousled Argan’s hair. “Of course, you rascal. What
is it you’re going to learn today, then?”

 “I think its languages – can you speak any, Vos’gis?”

“Apart from Kastanian? No. I didn’t get a big education
like you’re getting, young Prince. I learned enough but it wasn’t in languages.
What languages are you being taught, then?”

“Oh, a bit of Mazag and Mr.Sen said I may have to learn
Tybar.” They had got to the door of the tutor room and Vosgaris opened it,
allowing Argan to precede him. The boy took two steps into the room and stopped
suddenly, drawing in a sudden breath through shock.

The mountains always seemed to stay in the distance. No
matter how far the three travellers rode each day, those white-peaked jagged
guardians of the horizon remained a distant sight. Amne had commented the
previous day that it seemed they would never reach them, but Lalaas had assured
her they would. Theros said little whilst in the saddle but each time they
stopped, either for lunch, comfort breaks or to pitch camp, he kept close to
Amne and ignored Lalaas, almost shielding the princess from the hunter.

Lalaas didn’t appear to be concerned; he just kept on
collecting vegetables and fruit from the countryside and on occasions,
returning with a kill to cook. Lalaas pitched his own tent and left Theros to
cope with his. Amne was skilled enough to put up her own and she had caught the
look of approval from him on one occasion, something that cheered her
immensely, and she realised just how much she missed the closeness that had
existed between the two.

Theros remained a clumsy outdoor type; never managing to
put his tent up properly and was always the last to pack and mount up in the
mornings. He was fully aware of the look of contempt he received from the
hunter and deliberately avoided looking towards him. Lalaas said nothing to him
unless it was absolutely necessary, and then it was with ill-disguised
hostility.

Amne hated the bad feeling between the two. It made for
little conversation while they were on the move. When they camped, however,
Theros spoke to Amne at length, but he was too dull and pompous for Amne’s
liking. She would have much preferred to sit and talk to Lalaas who had a much
wider range of subjects to speak about, and, she had to admit to herself, she
preferred his company. Lalaas stayed clear of the two, keeping to himself. He
was, after all, one who was used to it, being a scout and hunter, his days
often spent alone. The crowds of a town or city were not to his liking, after
all, and so he cared little that he was once more on his own, even though he was
part of a trio.

That evening they sat around the fire Lalaas had made
and ate their evening meal. The nights were beginning to draw in once more and
it was clear summer was coming to an end and autumn was approaching. Although
the sky was clear and stars glittered, there was the hint of a chill. Amne kept
her blanket on her back to make sure she didn’t get cold. Lalaas was opposite
her, chewing quietly on the leg of the herd beast he’d shot with his bow. Theros
sat to Amne’s left, carefully picking through the thigh he’d selected, making
sure no bones were amongst the flesh.

“We can’t be far from Mazag,” Theros said, smacking his
lips. “Those mountains are in Mazag territory, and we’ve not seen a soul for
days on end. Now, ma’am, you will have to conduct yourself as befits a member
of the royal house of Kastania. All this – rough – lifestyle you’ve been used
to these past sevendays will have to be cast off and forgotten. You must
remember why you are here.”

“I am well aware of that, Theros,” Amne replied softly, glancing
at Lalaas who smiled briefly. Theros noticed it and cleared his throat testily.
“This is no laughing matter, hunter. Out here you may be king, but once amongst
civilised surroundings you will once again be the pauper you are.”

“I was smiling at your statement, diplomat. Princess
Amne will never forget this – rough – lifestyle as you call it, for as long as
she lives.”

“Really!” Theros snorted and looked at Amne. “You must
forgive his manners; he’s low born, after all.”

Amne smiled gently. “I take no offence, Theros. How can
you find offence with his words when he’s saved my life countless times? No, I
won’t forget this journey ever, but neither will I forget I’m a princess and
that I must behave accordingly once we reach Mazag.”

“Quite,” Theros said, casting one last glance Lalaas’
way before returning him to the unimportant place in his mind. “How is your
Mazag, ma’am? I doubt these foreigners have bothered to learn our language, so
it is vital you understand what they are saying. Of course, I shall be with you
to guide you should you require it. I wouldn’t put it past these people to try
to deceive you.”

“I shall be careful, Theros, be sure of that.” Amne took
a slow drink of water, as much to shut Theros up as to quench her thirst. She
glanced Lalaas’ way again, and the hunter grinned briefly before finishing his
leg and throwing the bones onto the fire which flared up. He then wiped his
mouth and looked out into the night, staring into the darkness.

Theros, feeling as though he were outside some unspoken
conversation, cleared his throat and gripped both knees. Sitting on the ground
was not to his liking. He longed for the comforts of a cushion once more. He
wondered at Amne who seemed to be at ease with the outdoor way of life. He
hoped this vagrant Lalaas hadn’t changed her too much; there would be the
depths of damnation to pay if that were the case. “The moment we reach
civilised surroundings we must change into our best clothing. It’s important to
convey a suitably grand impression on these less advanced nations. They are so
easily impressed by riches and superior dress. I know.”

Amne was half listening. Lalaas was still looking out
into the dark but his demeanour had altered. He now seemed tense and his head
was pushed forward, as if trying to see something. His right hand was reaching
for his hilt. Amne had been with Lalaas long enough now to know something was
not right.

“The Mazag are a young nation; consequently they are
like a child,” Theros was saying, “and therefore are swayed fairly easily. If
we appear grand and colourful, they will be in awe of us. Sadly I don’t think
there’s much we can do about the Hunter, but we can always keep him in the
background, I suppose.”

“Quiet,” Lalaas suddenly said softly, standing up, his
sword in his hand.

“I shall not be quiet,” Theros said, piqued. “You cannot
doubt that your appearance is…..” He got no further as Lalaas moved quickly
round the fire and jabbed the tip of his sword into Theros’s throat.

“One more squeak from you, you windbag, and I’ll puncture
you. Shut up.” Lalaas cocked an ear, not even looking at the wide-eyed Theros
who was shrinking back from the point of the sword. “Do you hear anything?” he
asked Amne.

Amne listened intently, not even appearing to notice
Lalaas hadn’t addressed her with any mark of respect. She thought she heard a
noise, but couldn’t be sure. Hesitantly, she pointed out in the direction she
thought she had heard something.

Lalaas nodded. “Get close to the fire, both of you.” He
now gripped the sword in both hands and stepped across the two, facing out. Amne
shuffled round, staring hard into the night. Theros followed, wondering what it
was, but picking up on the tension the other two were displaying.

“What is it, ma’am?” he asked in a whisper.

Amne shook her head, indicating she didn’t know, but
Lalaas appeared to know, for he was slowly bending down into a half crouch,
sword now raised in front of him. His feet were planted wide and Amne studied
his body, watching as the muscles moved under his clothing. Her heart beat
faster, not just through the tenseness of the situation. A thought popped into
her mind, one she would have thought shocking a year ago – one of wishing she
could see him naked.

Eyes suddenly came visible from the darkness, reflecting
the flames of the fire. Two pairs, three, four. Amne whimpered and got as close
to the heat of the fire as she could, and Theros put a hand to his mouth,
uttering an incoherent cry to the gods. Dark shapes came into vision, four
legged, hairy, threatening. Lalaas slowly moved to one side, blocking the first
one’s attempt to get past him and at the two huddled fearfully on the other
side of the fire.

“Grab a blazing log,” Lalaas commanded. “They fear fire.
If you’re holding one they’ll think twice about attacking you.”

Amne reached out and picked one up, gripping it tightly.
The other end was well afire and she waved it to one side, trusting in Lalaas. Theros
was gibbering in terror and too frightened to move. Amne ignored him and
watched as Lalaas moved back again as a second beast moved, trying to run past
and get at the princess. Lalaas swung his sword hard and the beast jumped to
one side, growling. But his movement gave the other an opening and it sprang
forward, jaws agape. Amne screamed but Lalaas had been waiting for such a move.
Pivoting on his right foot, the sword came arcing through the air and cut
through fur, flesh and bone, and the creature screamed in pain and fell off to
one side, rolled and scrambled to its feet, then fell again, whining.

Lalaas snapped back into a guard posture and watched the
other three as they circled in front of the man, eyes fixed on him. The wounded
animal lay on its side, whimpering for a short while, then it shuddered and
remained still. The hunter stepped forward, sword tip angled up, ahead of his
body, as he advanced on the three remaining beasts. They moved backward into
the darkness. Growls came from them as they recognised he was stronger and a
killer. They preyed on the weak and helpless, and this was not to their liking.
The other two were their prey, but this strong one was in their way. With one
of their number down the odds were turning against them, and they turned and
trotted back into the night, searching for easier kills.

Lalaas waited for a short while, then relaxed and took
out his cleaning cloth and wiped his blade. “They’re gone,” he said calmly. “It’s
over.”

“What were they, Lalaas?” Amne asked, throwing her log
back onto the fire.

“Scavenger beasts. We know them as krolls. Farmers hate
them for they take their animals. They hunt in packs.” He walked over to the
one he’d killed and examined it. The hide was cut open along one flank and its
lifeblood had flowed out over the ground from the wound. He sighed. “Pity; this
would have made a good cloak. No matter.” He took it by the legs and dragged it
off into the night. He returned a few moments later. “Not something we can eat.
Foul taste.”

“Are-are there more out there?” Theros queried, still
looking fearfully over his shoulder into the night.

“Of course; but the local pack know better than to come
here again. They’ll leave us alone for the rest of the night. They sleep during
the day. Just to be sure, I’ll keep watch for a while. You two may as well get
some sleep. Tomorrow we carry on towards the mountains.”

Theros looked doubtfully at the hunter and said nothing.
He knew he’d get a scornful reply if he said anything more. Amne nodded and
made her way to her tent, just a few steps behind her. Lalaas threw another
branch of a tree he’d found lying on the ground close by onto the fire and it
began crackling as the flames greedily licked at it. Before Amne drew the flap
of her tent together she gave the hunter one last look, and Lalaas caught it. Both
shared a brief moment of understanding and Amne smiled before drawing her flap
shut.

She lay there for a while, not being able to sleep at
first. Images of Lalaas filled her mind, and a warmth remained within her,
something that wouldn’t go away, and her heart refused to slow down. Memories
of his arms around her came to her and she shuddered in pleasure at remembering
it; if Theros hadn’t been there she may well have asked Lalaas to hold her that
night, excusing it on feeling frightened from the kroll attack. Her last
conscious thoughts were that of his muscles showing through his tunic and hose
as he had defended her. “Lalaas…..” she whispered before she fell asleep, a
smile on her lips.

Theros was not smiling. He wasn’t blind. His duty to the
empire was clear in his mind. After watching the scout cleaning and then
sharpening his sword, and convincing himself that there were no monsters of the
night waiting out there, crouching just out of sight ready to devour him, he
plucked up the courage to walk over to him.

Lalaas looked up as Theros approached slowly. He ignored
him and went back to honing the edge of his sword in the firelight. The log he
was sat on wasn’t big enough for two so he was damned if he was going to make
space for the diplomat to sit next to him.

“Humph,” Theros cleared his throat. “I have a delicate
matter to speak to you about.”

“Then say it, Theros,” Lalaas said brusquely, still not
looking him in the face.

“I’ve noticed the – attachment – between you and the
princess. This is simply not something that can be permitted to continue,” he
said in a low voice, so as not to disturb the sleeping Amne.

“What are you saying, diplomat?” Lalaas looked up at
last and stared him firmly in the eye.

“I’m saying, Hunter, that you as a lowborn should simply
not show a liking for the princess in any manner whatsoever. Furthermore, you
should reject any untoward feelings of a reciprocal manner you may get from
her, do you understand?”

Lalaas considered his reply for a moment. “Do you
believe I’m going to abduct her and run off with her to some out of the way hut
on a mountainside and live happily ever after, raising a family?”

Theros’s lips tightened. “Don’t be flippant. You know
your duty, stick to it. She’s a vulnerable young woman, completely at your
mercy. Once she’s back in familiar surroundings you’ll be forgotten and can
return to sniffing mud or whatever you did before the emperor hired you.”

“Yes, the emperor did hire me, and I vowed to bring her
safely through to Mazag, which I will do. I’m also fully aware that the
princess is destined to marry into her social circle and once this job is
completed we can go our separate ways. So you can rest assured I shall not
spoil her for whoever eventually marries Amne.”