Lord Protector (31 page)

Chiana had ordered it interred in the royal tomb reserved for lord protectors, beside the one for Jashimari queens, and there the skull still resided. Blade's skull. All that was left of him. It had taken many moons for her to finally accept that it was his, when the last dregs of hope had faded and sorrow had taken hold. She had donned her black mourning gown, and her titles amongst the populace had become true. She was the Widow Regent. That was when Kerra had gone wild. Barely eighteen years old, the girl had turned to strong wine and debauchery to salve her sorrow. Chiana's pleas and orders had fallen on deaf ears. When Chiana had written to Kerrion for help, Kerra had burnt the King's letters and ordered the Cotti advisors to return to the desert kingdom.

Kerra had invited young lords and ladies of her age to court, and spent her time carousing with them in a most outrageous manner. Chiana understood the girl's pain, for she too longed to drown her sorrow in spirits. She had a kingdom to rule, however, and that kept her from indulging her wish to vent her anguish. Instead, she had buried the pain deep in her heart, beside her sorrow for Inka and Minna-Satu. There it still resided, like a black monster coiled in the darkness of her despair, just waiting for the day when it would be unleashed.

Chiana looked up at the handmaiden, who chewed her lip and wrung her hands. The Regent sighed.

"What can I do? She will not listen to me."

"She has become angry with Lady Cheran, and we fear that -"

"All right. I will come."

As Chiana walked along the corridor that led to the Queen's quarters, she wondered how she would deal with the wayward girl. She was the only one who was allowed to discipline the young Queen, yet she was reluctant to do so. Kerra had good reason to be unhappy, and Chiana sympathised with her wish to escape her situation.

The handmaiden trotted ahead to open one of the tall, gilded doors to Kerra's chambers, and Chiana swept in, mustering her courage. Raised voices led her to the suite's sitting room, where twenty young lords and ladies entertained the Queen. Chiana stopped in shock, sweeping the scene with a glance.

Kerra reclined on a mountain of gilt-edged cushions, a glass of wine in hand, a young lord nuzzling her neck. Her gauzy, pale yellow gown revealed far more than it concealed, exposing long legs to the attentions of another young man, who licked her toes. The material was so fine that she may as well have been naked. A gold chain clasped her slender waist and diamonds dripped from her ears and sparkled at her throat. Her long, tangled flaxen hair had a few diamond-studded pins snarled in it. Her blue eyes glittered and her creamy skin was flushed with excitement and wine.

Chiana had long ago resigned herself to the fact that the Queen was no longer a virgin, and instructed Verdan to supply Kerra with the herbs that would prevent her from conceiving. The almost constant parties with her young friends seemed to keep her content, although they also kept her almost constantly inebriated. Chiana could only hope that Kerra would eventually grow out of her penchant for excess.

All of Kerra's noble friends were in a similar state of undress, and Chiana averted her gaze from two young men who were entirely naked. Kerra giggled and sipped her wine, gazing at a couple that writhed at her feet. Chiana recognised the girl as Cheran, one of Kerra's handmaidens, who was clearly in a great deal of distress. A young man held her down, a hand clamped over her mouth, while he fumbled with her gown.

"Go on Raydan," Kerra urged, oblivious to Chiana's presence. "Do it!"

"I am trying," the boy said. "She will not keep still."

Chiana swallowed the bile that stung her throat and glanced at Nirris. "Summon the guards."

Kerra looked around, her grin fading. "No! No guards. Get out!"

Chiana stepped closer. "I am not one of your maidens or flunkies, Kerra. You do not give me orders."

"I am the Queen!" Kerra bellowed. "Leave us!"

"No." Chiana glanced at the young noblemen and women, who had turned to gawp at her with expressions ranging from vacant surprise to belligerent indignation. Two guards arrived, followed by Nirris, and snapped to attention. Chiana glanced at them.

"Arrest him." She pointed to the young noble who held Cheran captive.

"Leave him alone!" Kerra shouted, slopping her wine as she sat up, her expression thunderous.

The soldiers hesitated, averting their eyes from the Queen's near nakedness.

"Throw him in the dungeons on the charge of attempted ravishment," Chiana said.

The guards hauled the nobleman to his feet and dragged him out, ignoring Kerra's shrieks of rage. Nirris helped a weeping Cheran to her feet, comforting her. Chiana raked the Queen's guests with a hard glance.

"Get out, all of you," she said. "You are no longer welcome here. Pack your bags and return to your fathers."

"You cannot do this!" Kerra cried.

"I can, and I have."

"I order you all to stay!"

The young nobles, who had been in the process of leaving, settled back in their places. Kerra looked smug.

Chiana glanced at Nirris. "Summon more soldiers. Enough to drag all of these out and throw them into the street."

"No!" The Queen rose unsteadily to her feet, thrusting her wine glass into the hands of a young lady. "Chiana, do not allow the guards to touch them."

"If they do not want to be touched, they must leave."

"You cannot tell me what to do!"

"No, but these others had better obey me, or their families will suffer."

"Why are you doing this? Kerra demanded.

"Because it must be done. This cannot continue, especially since it is now escalating to rape."

"That was not rape! She wanted to do it."

"It did not look that way to me, and I trust my eyes."

Kerra snorted. "She was willing! She just got scared, but she would have enjoyed it in the end."

"It is not for you to inflict your morals, or lack of them, upon others. Cheran must be a maiden to serve a Jashimari queen."

"I will decide who serves me, and I do not wish to be surrounded by simpering maids! Let them partake as I do, or leave."

Chiana shook her head. "It is the law."

"I make the laws!"

"Not yet. When you are Queen in fact as well as name, you may do as you wish. Until then, you will do as I say."

"You cannot make me," Kerra sneered. "You have no right to judge me, either. Just because you are an old maid does not mean I must be surrounded by more in my chambers."

"You will do as I order, Kerra."

"Or what? Will you throw me in the dungeons too? You cannot!" Kerra walked closer, her eyes bright. "What will you do? Write to my father? He will do nothing! Perhaps he will write another letter, and I shall burn it."

Kerra was right, Chiana reflected. She could do little to prevent the young Queen from doing as she wished, and to try would only anger her. Threatening to write to Kerrion had little effect these days, since he had not once visited his daughter in the three years that had passed since she had returned from Cotti. Kerra had grown angry and bitter at her father's neglect, and had lost respect for him. Part of that anger, Chiana knew, was because Kerrion had failed to protect Blade from the King's half-brothers.

Chiana murmured, "What would Blade think of you now?"

The girl paled. "Leave him out of it. He is dead!

"And you are angry with him for that, I know. Now he will never bow to you or call you his queen. But what would he think of this?" Chiana gestured at the half naked nobles.

Kerra scowled and turned away, picked up a bottle of wine and poured a cup. "Leave us."

For a moment Chiana thought Kerra was trying to dismiss her, but then the young men and women rose and filed out, picking up their discarded garments on the way. When only Kerra remained, the girl turned to Chiana.

"He would say I was a slut."

Chiana shook her head. "Do not put words in his mouth when he is not here to refute them. I think he would be angry, though. Where is Myasha?"

Kerra glanced at her familiar's empty perch and shrugged. "Out."

"He spends little time with you these days."

"He has a mate. They are building a nest. Soon they will have babies."

"Ah." Chiana had not known that. It explained Kerra's newfound interest in the opposite sex, since a familiar's urges tended to communicate themselves to their friend. The direfalcon had only recently become mature, and with his breeding status had come Kerra's wild parties. Jashimari queens, however, were not expected to remain chaste. They took many lovers during the course of their reign, and before. They usually took a consort, though. Minna-Satu had been somewhat unusual in that she had remained a maiden until she had met Kerrion. The former Queen, however, had been bonded to a female sand cat, who, due to her isolation from the desert and others of her kind, had been unable to find a mate. It was also well known that people who were bonded to male familiars tended to be more promiscuous.

Chiana sighed and sank down on a pile of cushions, patting one beside her. "Come, let us not fight. I mourn him just as you do, and yes, you are entitled to some amusement, but you cannot allow your... friends to ravish the maidens."

Kerra sat down and sipped her wine. "Why did he leave?"

Chiana shook her head. Kerra had asked that question so many times, but she had no answer for it. "I do not know."

"Did you fight with him?"

"No."

"If only he had stayed, he would be safe...." She trailed off, gulping.

"Yes. But he did not, and now he is gone. Do not be angry with him."

"I loved him, you know."

Chiana nodded. Kerra had admitted that to her many times, too, and it still brought a twinge of pain each time she said it. Chiana envied the time Kerra had spent with Blade. Then again, she also regretted the time when she had refused to see him. So many precious memories she had not made, for the sake of foolish pride. The girl lay back with a sigh, the wine glass falling from her limp fingers to stain the cushions blood red. Chiana gazed at the Queen's slender, lissom form. Often, Chiana had wondered what it must be like to lie in a man's strong arms and know the fires of passion. She could do it now, if she wished. She was no longer wed to a sacred Knight of the Veil, so she could rescind her status as a priestess.

Chiana gazed across the room at Myasha's empty perch. The only man's arms in which she longed to lie were Blade's. Her throat closed, and she swallowed hard. Even after all this time, the thought of him made her weep. How had he died? Had he suffered? Where did his body lie? Who had buried him? Were his bones exposed and mouldering somewhere? She should have buried him and wept at his graveside. She should have washed his body with sweet white wine and anointed it with shay flower oil, then wrapped it in white silk. All she had was a tomb with a skull in it, and that had been too decayed to prepare for burial.

Chapter Twenty One

Blade gazed down from his lofty perch in the tower that stood in the middle of the prison yard. Four dormitories were arranged around a central yard, and guards patrolled the roofs of the buildings as well as the outer walls. They were all wolf or dogmen, with alert familiars. The land beyond the walls was rolling tundra, frozen and snowbound in winter, when icy blizzards swept it, and cold and windy in summer. Rivan eked out a living from ground-nesting birds, mice, rats, snakes and voles, and in winter Blade shared the vile, overcooked gruel that the prisoners ate with his familiar. Rivan slipped in and out through one of the many barred windows, and no one tried to prevent him. Many of the other prisoners had familiars that came and went, and these were left alone too. In Contara, people did not harm familiars, as it was in Cotti and Jashimari.

Life in Andrango was harsh and unfair, and he had not expected to survive long here. He had not bathed for three years, and his skin and hair itched, and his stench offended him so much that he was constantly seeking to be upwind of himself. His leather clothes had proven to be more durable than the other prisoners' cloth garments, so while many of them now had nothing but the blankets they were given to sleep on with which to wrap themselves, he still possessed trousers and a jacket. Albeit that they were stiff with salt, oil and dirt, and stank worse than he did.

Blade owed his survival to one man. Shortly after his arrival, a group of murderers, offended by the presence of an assassin, had waylaid him. Even though unarmed and injured, he had killed two before the rest had brought him down and proceeded to try to kick him to death. They would have succeeded, if not for the intervention of Andevar. The muscular giant, who towered over most men, had waded into the fracas for some unknown reason and carried Blade to safety. He had then protected the assassin for the two tendays it had taken him to recover from his injuries.

When his cracked ribs, bruises and contusions had healed, he had discovered the reason for Andevar's glum silence. According to a talkative guard, the giant had once been a gladiator, a champion of the sawdust ring. Andevar, however, had been a lady's man, and dallied with the wrong woman. Her lordly husband, discovering her infidelity, had not only arranged a fatal encounter for her, but also had Andevar captured and castrated, then framed him for his wife's murder. Andevar, Blade mused, was probably the only innocent man in Andrango. Oddly enough, the guards knew it, and so had, most likely, the judge who had condemned him. The lord who had accused him was powerful, however, so Andevar had been sent to Andrango, upon his request.

Andevar, it seemed, had a penchant for helping underdogs, and regularly rescued weaker men when the gangs of murderous thugs set upon them. Most eventually succumbed, and one reason for Blade's survival was his use of the central tower as a sanctuary. It had once been a watchtower, but the guards no longer used it, preferring to use the perimeter towers, which did not require them to cross the yard. The door at the base of the tower was locked, and only Blade could scale the rough stone wall. He spent most of his time in it, descending for meals and some calls of nature.