Lord Protector (25 page)

The Contaran populace that lined the main thoroughfare watched Kerrion pass with glum expressions. The troops who had entered ahead of the royal party to clear the way held them at bay with spears. Some furtive spitting was certainly going on in the crowd, and a few bold men glared. Kerrion hated visiting Contara for this reason. He had not wished to conquer the kingdom. His lords had forced him to, for they had lusted for the conquest that had been denied them when Kerra had ascended the Jashimari throne. Perhaps, in a few years, when Contara had paid enough in tithes, he would be able to free the kingdom, although finding a legitimate ruler would not be easy.

Kerrion returned his attention to the Contaran fortress as his horse clattered into the courtyard and a groom ran up to take the animal's reins. The royal abode could not be described as a palace. Compared to Jashimari and Cotti, Contara was a poor kingdom. Its poverty was due, in most part, to the warlike inclinations of its people, who spent much of their time in minor conflicts and neglected the economy as a result. Nobles had carved out realms for themselves, and defended them in a formidable keeps such as this one. The castle's sheer grey stone walls, crowned with crenulations, boasted only a few narrow windows.

The outer wall was two man-heights tall and a man-height wide, and a sectioned battle courtyard surrounded the castle, each area separated by an equally high wall. Fortified buttresses overhung high above, where, during a war, catapults would be stationed to hurl their deadly cargo over the outer walls. Jovan's banner flew from the highest turret, snapping in the breeze.

Kerrion dismounted, stifled a groan and resisted the urge to rub his aching posterior. It felt as if several layers of skin had been rubbed off it, and he made a mental note to look into having a padded saddle made for the return trip.

An honour guard of Jovan's soldiers snapped to attention when he turned to them, then lowered their spears and knelt, as was expected of a prince's men. Prethos jumped down with the boisterous enthusiasm of youth, making Kerrion shoot him a sour glance. There was something humiliating about travelling with a youngster. It seemed to make Kerrion's bones ache even more. He glanced up as Jovan emerged onto the steps above him and hurried down to his level, bowing low.

"Welcome, Sire."

Kerrion glared at him. "Do not delude yourself that this visit will go well for you, and do not think to ingratiate yourself with humble ways or sly compliments. I am in no mood for it, nor will I tolerate any whining."

"Of course, Sire." Jovan straightened, glowering at Kerrion's feet.

"My feet are not to be addressed by you, either. Look me in the eye when you lie to me, so I may be sure to mark your duplicity."

Jovan raised his eyes and drew himself up. "We are honoured by your -"

"Enough false greetings, too. I require a hot bath, wine and a meal. First, I wish to see the Queen's Blade."

"At once, Sire."

Kerrion walked towards the citadel's open doors, where liveried servants knelt. "Bring him to your audience hall now. You do have an audience hall, do you not?"

"I do, Sire. I shall order it."

"Get on with it then."

Jovan trotted ahead to snap orders at a servant, who ran off. The Prince turned to Kerrion again, gesturing towards the entrance. "This way, Sire. Allow me to -"

"Still your tongue unless I ask you a question."

The Prince reddened, glancing at Prethos, who giggled. Kerrion shot the youth a hard look that wiped the smile from his face and stalked into the palace, following the servant who trotted ahead.

The Contara audience chamber proved to a spacious, banner-hung room, its walls built from expertly dressed grey stone fitted together so perfectly that no mortar was required. Kerrion gazed around, admiring the workmanship and zeal that had gone into constructing such finely crafted walls from such massive stone blocks. Each one must weigh several horse-weights, and he pondered the effort that must have gone into placing them so flawlessly atop their neighbours. High above, war banners and lordly emblems adorned massive beams. Coats of arms hung between the wall flags, and a shield emblazoned with Jovan's crest stood behind the gilt throne.

Kerrion sank down on it with a grimace, shifting to ease his bruises and longing for a cushion. Lord Batian came to stand on his left hand, and Prethos took up his position to the right, making Jovan glare at him in confusion. The King accepted a cup of wine from a hovering attendant and sipped it, tapping his fingers on the arm of the throne. Several minutes later, two guards entered, dragging a dishevelled black-haired man. He was clad in black leather clothes, and walked with dragging steps and a bowed head. Kerrion knew immediately that it was not Blade.

The guards forced the prisoner to his knees and gripped his hair to raise his head. Kerrion studied the unfortunate's gaunt visage, then looked at Jovan, who fidgeted.

"Who is this?"

"The Queen's Blade, Sire."

"My patience is at an end, Jovan. You did not even bother to find a man who resembles the Queen's Blade. I have barely glanced at him, and I know that this is not he."

Jovan blustered, "I have it on good authority that this is the assassin known as -"

"Rubbish. You are trying to wriggle out of your blunder. I will wager that this is not even an assassin. Show me his mark."

The soldiers tugged open the man's collar, revealing the unblemished skin at the base of his throat. Kerrion glowered at Jovan and rose to step down from the shallow dais, flicking his fingers at the guards.

"Release him at once." He walked over to Jovan, who cringed. "Your stupidity is only compounded by your arrogance, brother. Did you think, for one moment, that this would fool me?"

"I protest, Sire, I believed him to be -"

"Enough. Tell me the truth now, or I shall beat it out of you. Did you, at any time, capture the Queen's Blade?"

"I... no."

"Where is Dravis?"

"I know not, Sire, I -"

Kerrion's fist cracked into Jovan's jaw, and he staggered back, raising his hands as Kerrion followed. "Where is Dravis?"

"In truth, I know not!"

"Where is the Queen's Blade?"

"I... As far as I know, he is dead."

"As far as you know?" Kerrion cocked his head. "Just how much do you know?"

"Nothing, I swear!"

"You sicken me. You are a craven toad. I know Dravis is in Contara. I am not a fool. I will find him, and I will find the Queen's Blade, whether he is dead or alive."

Jovan shook his head. "He is dead."

"Oh, so you do know something. You got this from Dravis, not so?"

"He was here, yes, but I did not invite him, nor did I aid him."

"Nor did you inform me of his presence. That is treason, brother."

Jovan stepped back, rubbing his jaw. "I was going to inform you, I -"

"Silence!" Kerrion stepped closer. "You are hereby stripped of your governorship. Prethos is appointed in your place. You will remain here, in exile, for the rest of your days."

"Prethos? He is a child!"

"Do not question my decisions. If you cannot control it, I shall have your tongue cut out, just as you did to that unfortunate you had dragged before me. I tire of your insolence. I will hear no more from you. Remove yourself from my presence at once and seek a humble abode in which to dwell. Your allowance is discontinued and your retinue curtailed. Any lord who swears allegiance to you will be similarly stripped. Two of your men will remain in your employ, and one servant, paid for by the crown. Now get out."

Jovan glowered at the King, then stalked out, retaining what little dignity he had left by neglecting to bow. Kerrion beckoned to the most senior officer in Jovan's army, and the man ran forward to kneel.

"You and your men are now inducted into my army. You will swear allegiance to me, or die."

"I do so swear, My King!"

"See to it that your men do also, save two, who may continue to serve Jovan. Where is Prince Dravis?"

"No one has seen him since this morning, My King."

"So, he has found a rock to crawl under. Find him, or anyone who may know where he is hiding, and bring him to me. Go!"

The officer leapt up and ran out, followed by the rest of Jovan's men. The King left the audience chamber and sought the dining hall, where he ordered a meal. While he waited for it to arrive, he sipped his wine and sent a message to the Contara army, ordering it to find Prince Dravis and arrest him.

Lord Batian eyed Kerrion with a slight smile. "What of the Jashimari battalion, Sire? Will you allow them to arrest Prince Dravis?"

"If they find him first, yes. Even if I find him first, I intend to hand him over to the Jashimari. Chiana will execute him, as I cannot. She deserves vengeance for her husband's death, since Dravis broke the law when he captured the Queen's Blade in Jashimari. He was their Lord Protector."

Chiana looked up at Insash, lowering the letter she had just read. "When did this happen?"

"Two days ago, Regent. Your men have almost reached Ashmarad."

"Any news of my husband?"

The advisor lowered his eyes. "Regretfully, no, My Lady."

"If you hear anything, inform me immediately."

"Of course, My Lady."

Chiana sighed and turned away. "I do not expect good news, so do not try to spare me."

"As you wish, Regent."

Chiana dismissed him, then dropped the letter on her desk and left her study, heading for the palace temple. Two guards shadowed her, as they always did, but remained at the door when she removed her shoes and entered its gold-clad confines. A white satin cloth draped the solid gold altar, upon which stood a crystal bowl of sacred water, a potted shay flower, and a candle. Beyond it, a vast image of Tinsharon's serpent form was carved into the wall and picked out with emeralds, its eyes made from diamonds and the viper's arrow-like mark on its head fashioned from rubies. Torches lighted the scene, filling the chamber with soft brilliance.

Since Blade's death, Chiana had come here every day to pray, but before that she had not visited it since her wedding day. She recalled her joy on that day with a bittersweet pang. After the ceremony, she had been brought here for her consecration, and made the vows of chastity, sobriety and poverty that were required of a priestess. She walked up the three shallow steps and entered the hallowed area around the altar, where only priestesses were allowed to tread. Even royalty were forbidden to touch Tinsharon's image. She approached it and ran her hand over the emeralds. Touching his image was supposed to draw his attention, and she hoped that it did now.

Sinking to her knees, she raised her hands in the plea that had become a daily ritual. In it she begged Tinsharon to deliver Blade from his enemies, if he was alive, and if he is dead, welcome him into the Everlasting. Lowering her hands at the end of the liturgy, she pressed her brow to the floor and whispered, "Spare him."

She raised her head to gaze up at the serpent image. "You are a vengeful god. If he is dead, I ask for vengeance. Let those who have harmed him burn in Damnation for all eternity. Hear my plea, Tinsharon. Grant me this wish."

Chiana knelt there for a full time-glass, her arms spread in supplication, the penalty required for a plea. When she rose on stiff legs, her knees ached. She turned to find two priestesses standing behind her, one holding the bowl of sacred water. They stepped closer, and the unburdened one dipped her fingers in the bowl and dabbed the water on Chiana's brow. They bowed to Tinsharon's image, replaced the bowl on the altar and walked away, their bare feet pattering on the shining floor.

Kerrion glowered at the man who stood before him, cursing the Contara throne's hardness, which made his posterior ache with renewed venom each time he was forced to sit upon it. The Contaran mercenary looked ill at ease, which was not surprising, since he stood before a hostile and irritable Cotti king, surrounded by gimlet-eyed soldiers. Kerrion glanced past him at the brown and green-clad man his soldiers had brought in a minute before, who interested him far more.

"Well, speak, man, before I run out of patience," he said.

"I bring a message, from your brother... Sire."

"Which one? I still have far too many of them."

"Prince Jovan, Your Majesty."

"Ah. Him. What is it?"

The mercenary clasped his hands behind his back, clearly striving to appear confident. "He bids me tell you to cease searching for Prince Dravis and return to Cotti."

"Why, pray tell?"

"He warns you that Prince Dravis plans your demise."

"Really?" Kerrion raised his brows, glancing at his officers, who glowered at the mercenary's back. "And how does Dravis hope to achieve such a lofty goal, since he is hiding under a rock?"

"Prince Jovan is unsure. Prince Dravis wouldn't tell him how he planned to do it, only that he does. Prince Jovan asks for leniency in return for this important information, and the reinstatement of his allowance."

"Tell him that this is no news to me, and therefore it is worthless. Of course Dravis wants me dead."

The man shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. "In that case, he bids me tell you that it's possible that the Queen's Blade isn't dead, and he may be the means by which Dravis plots to assassinate you."

Kerrion straightened, a frisson of alarm running up his spine. "I was told that the Queen's Blade is most certainly dead."

"That may not be the case, Your Majesty."

"This is Jovan's guesswork, nothing more. Even if the Queen's Blade is alive, he will not work for a Cotti, so I do not believe it."

The mercenary nodded. "Prince Jovan only knows that Prince Dravis was confident of his success, and doesn't plan to use his familiar to achieve it. Therefore, he's deduced that Dravis still has the Queen's Blade, and the means to force him to obey."

Kerrion shook his head. "The Queen's Blade cannot be forced, especially by a Cotti. There is nothing and no one about which he cares."

"I know no more, Majesty. That's my message. What do you want me to tell Prince Jovan?"