Inheritance (18 page)

“You there! Get off that horse!”

Startled by the sound, the horse turned on its rear legs. Lynan saw five guards running toward him from the palace. Pirem jumped forward and slapped the horse on the rump. The animal bolted, almost unseating Lynan.

“Flee, Lynan!” Pirem shouted. “Flee for your life!”

Lynan did not know what to do. He wanted to ride away as fast as the mare could take him, but he could not just leave his friends like this. Pirem saw his indecision and drew his dagger.

“There is nothing you can do for us!” he cried. “Flee!”

Pirem turned and ran toward the guards, shouting an old war cry and waving his dagger above his head. The first guard tried to meet Pirem’s assault head on, but Pirem had been a soldier longer than a servant. He dived under the sword and swept up with his dagger, lodging it into the guard’s chest. As the man reeled back, Pirem wrested the sword from his hand and charged again.

After seeing the fate of their companion, the four surviving guards were more cautious. They kept their swords low and waited for the old man to come to them. Pirem swerved at the last moment to take the one on his far right, but his opponents were younger and more agile than he. There was a flurry of sword play, then Pirem cried out and dropped to the ground, his weapon clattering to the earth next to his bleeding body.

Jenrosa panicked and bolted, aiming for the servants’ door Pirem had led them through. The guards set off in pursuit.

“Oh, God, no!” Lynan cried. He drew his sword, kicked his horse into action and galloped toward the guards. Two of them slowed down and spread out, trying to cut off his escape route. He charged the nearest.

The guard brought up his own weapon in a high block, but Lynan loosened his left foot from the stirrup and slumped low over the mare’s right shoulder, swinging his sword up and out, striking the guard’s jaw and slicing along his throat like a barber’s razor. The guard grasped at the wound, dark blood spouting between his fingers, and collapsed without a sound.

Lynan wheeled the horse around to face the guard on his right, but it was already too late. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the silhouette of a man behind him. A hand grasped his left foot, still out of the stirrup, and pushed it up and over the mare’s back. Lynan landed heavily on the ground, his breath whooshing out. A sharp pain in his side made him feel instantly nauseous. For a second he blacked out, and when he came to, he was on his back. Through a haze he could see a guard standing over him, his sword tickling Lynan’s throat, and two others standing back a few paces, Jenrosa struggling futilely in their arms.

“Your Highness,” the guard over him said in a bitter voice, “for what you did to King Berayma tonight, I’m going to skewer you like a bird on a spit.”

Lynan saw him bunch his muscles for the killing stroke when suddenly a shadow loomed over both of them. The guard gasped as a spear sprouted from his chest. He was pulled back off his feet and sent spinning away. A second, misshapen shadow cut down one of the guards holding Jenrosa, and the last guard turned on his heel and ran.

A strong hand grabbed Lynan by the hair and pulled him to his feet. Lynan found himself staring at a salt-and-pepper beard and blue eyes.

“Are you all right, lad?”

“Kumul?”

“What a silly bloody question,” the constable said. Still holding the prince by the hair, he spun him around so he could see the second rescuer.

“And Ager,” Lynan said weakly. And then he remembered the magicker. “Jenrosa—”

“I’m all right,” said her voice beside him. She was horribly pale and her whole body was shaking. She was staring at the body of the guard Kumul had killed.

“The last guard!” Lynan said, remembering now that he had seen him running away. “He will tell others where we are!”

“I’m too old to go chasing after him, and Ager here, for all his agility, couldn’t run after a lame infant.” Kumul turned to Jenrosa and Ager. “We need another three horses.”

Jenrosa looked up at the constable strangely, then hurried back to the stables, Ager hobbling behind.

“Do you think you can stand on your own, your Highness? I’ve got to help the others. We haven’t much time.”

Lynan nodded vaguely and immediately felt his support go. He spread his feet wide to steady himself and looked around for his mare. She was standing twenty paces away, not far from the guard Lynan had dropped.

I’ve killed my second man
, he thought, and then felt wretched because the fellow had been one of the Royal Guards.

He tried to control the heaving, but without success. He emptied his stomach. Groaning, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then tottered over to the horse. He returned to the stable, retrieving his sword on the way and cleaning the blade against his pants. Within two minutes he was joined by the others. All three mounted and the four headed down behind the stables and away from the palace. As they disappeared into the long shadows that covered the slope down to the city below, they heard behind them the first sounds of hue and cry.

“Ride hard!” Kumul roared. The four kicked their horses into a gallop, then hung on for dear life as they descended into the darkness.

Orkid stood in the doorway to Lynan’s chambers while Dejanus searched the rooms for any hint of where the prince might be.

“He can’t be far,” Dejanus said. “My guards are at all the gates. He must still be in the palace.”

“Unless Pirem found him,” Orkid said.

Dejanus left the room. “His sword is gone, and the Key.” He looked desperately at Orkid. “What now? We need his corpse to blame for Berayma’s death—”

“There’s no need to change the plan,” Orkid said, thinking. “Not yet, anyway. Your guards may still find and kill him for us.”

“I’ll organize the hunt and make sure,” he said.

“And I will wake Areava and tell her the tragic news about her brother.” Dejanus started to leave, but Orkid held him back and whispered fiercely in his ear: “And never forget the plan! We can gather all the willing witnesses we need once we have Lynan’s and Kumul’s bodies. Areava will believe the worst of her brother. And remember when you see her that
she
is queen now. Make sure your guards treat her as such.”

*

When Lynan and his companions reached the original city wall, they slowed their mounts to a steady walk. They needed to recover from their hair-raising descent, being almost as winded as their horses.

They passed as quietly as possible through the narrow streets and alleys of old Kendra. There were some people about, marking the passing of good Queen Usharna and the start of Berayma’s reign, and the companions could hear snatches of song as they passed inns and taverns open late for the occasion.

Lynan had no idea where Kumul was leading them. He sat on his horse like someone with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could not shake the feeling of nausea from his stomach, nor the images of Pirem’s tragic death and the guard he had killed. He had to swallow continually to keep the bile down. Jenrosa rode beside him, dazed by events and her predicament. Behind them came Ager, grimly silent. Only Kumul seemed to show any purpose, his face a mixture of alertness and barely repressed anger.

They made their way southeast through the city. When Kumul pulled them up and ordered them off their horses, Lynan could smell the harbor not far away.

“We’ll leave the horses here,” Kumul told them. “It’s best now if we go on foot.”

“Where
are
we going?” Jenrosa asked.

“A friend’s place,” he answered. “Now, no more questions until we get there. The less attention we draw to ourselves with unnecessary chatter, the better our chances of surviving the night.”

They slapped their horses to send them on their way; if unhindered, they would eventually return to their stable. In a few minutes the companions had reached the docks. Ropes and pulleys creaked and clanked in the onshore evening breeze, and rats scurried out of their way. The harbor smelled of sewage and bilge and rotting flesh.
Everything is death tonight
, Lynan thought bitterly.

Kumul, setting a rapid pace, led them east along the harbor for a league or so before heading north, back into the city proper. They passed warehouses smelling of exotic spices and busy taverns smelling of stale beer and urine. Skinny dogs sniffing for garbage scampered out of their way or growled at them defiantly. As the streets turned into alleys with houses dangerously leaning over them, the night air became strangled and still. The only sound was their own footsteps on the cobblestones and the occasional furtive scraping of a scavenging rodent or a hunting cat.

At last, Kumul slowed to an easy walk as he peered through the dark trying to recognize features and landmarks.

“It’s around here somewhere,” he whispered to himself.

For a few minutes more they kept on this way and then, with a satisfied grunt, he stopped and knocked impatiently on a door.

“Where are we?” Lynan asked.

Before Kumul could reply, the door opened and a man shorter than Kumul but just as wide came out on to the street. “Who the hell do you think you are, my friend, rousing me from my warm chair…” The man craned forward toward the constable. “… at this hour… Kumul?”

Kumul chuckled, a sound like a small avalanche of gravel. “Who else do you know who’s as big as me, Grapnel?”

The one called Grapnel laughed in turn and put his hands on Kumul’s shoulders, then noticed his companions. “You’ve brought friends, I see.”

“Can we come in? It isn’t safe out here.”

“Not safe? Who in their right minds would be after you?” Grapnel asked, but he ushered them inside without waiting for an answer.

They were crowded into a narrow hallway. Grapnel squeezed his way to the front and showed them into a living area. A bright fire was burning in a deep grate at one end of the room, and before it were mismatched chairs and a long table. The walls were made from whitewashed mud brick, and long beams supported a clinker-built roof.

Grapnel set chairs in a semicircle in front of the fire and bade them sit. He disappeared into an adjoining room, appearing a moment later with five mugs and a jug of home brew.

For the first time that night, Lynan saw that the close-cropped graying hairs at the back of Kumul’s head were matted with dried blood, and a red smear covered the nape of his neck.

Lynan turned his attention to Grapnel. Their host had a wide, swarthy face with two raised white scars, one on either cheek, which joined the corners of his mouth, giving him a permanent and macabre grin. His brown hair was cut as close to the scalp as Kumul’s, and each ear sported a large gold earring. Brown eyes were half hidden by drooping eyelids that made him look as if he would fall asleep at any moment. Although not as tall as Kumul, he still loomed over Lynan.

Their host poured beers for them, then sat back in his chair and waited for Kumul’s explanation.

“This is Captain Ager Parmer, late of the Royal Guards,” Kumul started, nodding in the crookback’s direction. “He was once a captain in the Kendra Spears.”

Grapnel leaned forward and peered at Ager’s face. “By all the creatures in the sea, you
are
Captain Parmer. And you’ve had hard times, I see.”

“And I remember you, Grapnel,” Ager replied. “You were Kumul’s lieutenant in the Red Shields.”

Grapnel nodded, and then looked at Jenrosa. “And you are?”

“My name is Jenrosa Alucar. 1 am a student magicker with the Theurgia of Stars.” She shook her head. “Or I was.”

Grapnel looked questioningly at Kumul.

“She was Prince Lynan’s companion tonight,” the constable told him.

“Good grief, Kumul,” Grapnel said, grinning slyly. “No wonder you’re in trouble.”

Kumul sighed. “And this is the prince in question,” he continued, indicating Lynan.

Grapnel shot to his feet, his chair falling over behind him. His cheeks reddened, making the scars stand out like welts. “Grief, your Highness! My apologies!” He glanced at Jenrosa. “And to you, ma’am.”

Lynan could not help a smile creasing his face, and he tried to hide it in his cup. Strong, bitter stout coursed down his gullet, almost choking him. Jenrosa blushed as deeply as Grapnel, but there was anger behind it.

“You misunderstand our relationship,” she said quietly.

Grapnel started apologizing again, but Kumul interrupted him. “And this, Your Highness, is Grapnel Moorice, trader and ship owner. One of your father’s most loyal and hard-fighting soldiers. And a friend.” Kumul took Grapnel’s arm. “Evil things have happened tonight. King Berayma has been murdered by conspirators, and now they’re after Prince Lynan.”

Grapnel’s mouth dropped open. “On our friendship, Kumul, are you telling me the truth?” Kumul nodded. “How much do you know?”

Kumul shrugged helplessly. “For me, it started with Dejanus, Berayma’s Life Guard.” Kumul quickly explained how he had been fooled by Dejanus. “I think he thought I was dead; either that, or he had some other part for me to play before the night was over. When I woke, I was too groggy to think. I managed to reach the courtyard when Ager found me. We immediately went to Berayma’s chambers in case Dejanus meant him harm as well, but we were too late.”

“At first we didn’t know what to do,” Ager continued. “Kumul was still dazed. I left him there and went to give the alarm, but found out from a guard that it had already been raised and that the order was out for Kumul, Lynan, and Lynan’s servant to be captured or killed because they had just slain the king.”

“I knew Lynan could not have had anything to do with Berayma’s slaying,” Kumul said. “I also knew it was too late to make for his chambers—others would be well ahead of us—so I gambled that they would make for one of the stables.”

“How did you guess we’d head for the Royal Guards’ stables?” Lynan asked.

“They were closest,” Ager said, and shrugged apologetically. “By that stage we figured we needed some luck.”

Lynan then recounted what Pirem had said about the involvement of Orkid, then about their rush for the stables and Pirem’s death.

“Pirem?” Grapnel asked. “The general’s old servant?”