Master and Fool (40 page)

"Ain't no
pixies taken me," said Nabber, sliding off the horse. "Just thought
I'd do my bit, that's all. It'll be the last time I do a good deed, I can tell
you." Nabber sorted through the items in his sack-he was now reduced to a
truly pathetic selection-and picked out a stale honeycake to munch on.
"Some people ought to learn to be a bit more grateful."

Jack tied his
horse to a rock and came to join him. "Any more of those in your
sack?" he said, pointing at the honeycake.

"Seeing as
it's you that's asking, Jack, and not a certain thankless knight who's
currently unbuckling the saddle from his horse"-Nabber threw a withering
look Tawl's way"then I think I can manage one." He rooted once more and
came out with the last edible thing he had on him-not counting the ground rat,
of course. "Here you go. Just pick off the hairs and it'll be as right as
rain."

Jack brushed the
cake against his leg. "So you've never been this way before?"

"No. Me and Tawl
went another way last time." Nabber looked into the distance. Rorn had
somehow disappeared into thin air.

"Is this way
quicker?"

"There's not
a lot in it," said Tawl, coming up to join them. He gave Jack a searching
look. "As the crow flies, this way is shorter, but you've got the hills to
contend with. The other route is longer-"

"But you've
got people to contend with," finished Jack. Tawl didn't bother to
contradict him. "Just being cautious, that's all."

"Cautious of
what?" asked Nabber. He hated conversations that beat around bushes.

There it was
again! That glance swapped between Jack and Tawl. The same one that always
appeared when there was talk of danger. Nabber wasn't going to let the matter
drop, though. Those two could trade looks until their eyelashes fell out for
all he cared. If there were dangers, he needed to know about them. "Who
exactly are you trying to avoid, Tawl? Is it Skaythe?"

Tawl shrugged.
"Yes."

"But there's
more, isn't there?" said Jack. "It's not really about Skaythe. It's
about how he found us in the first place. About who told him where to
look."

Nabber had the
distinct feeling that he might as well be invisible at this point. Somehow he'd
been squeezed out of his own conversation. This was between Tawl and Jack now.

Tawl turned to
look at the way they'd come. Hills and more hills. "If Skaythe is alive,
he'll find us again. If he's dead, they'll send someone else."

"Baralis?"

"And Larn.
They're probably working together." Tawl's voice betrayed the strain of
the journey. "I've seen those seers. I know what they can do. Their powers
are neither superstition nor legend. They're real, and the priests know how to
exploit them."

"So they'll
be tracking us?"

"You, Jack.
They'll be tracking you." Tawl spun around to face him. "They'll know
everything by now-Marod's prophecy, what it means, the fact you're on your way.
They know you're coming to destroy them, and they're not about to sit back and
let that happen."

Jack's face was
pale. Nabber couldn't understand why Tawl was being so hard on him.

"I'm not a
fool, Tawl," he said. "Don't you think I know the risks? Or did you
think I just followed you to go on a grand adventure?"

The two men had
been drawing nearer with every word and they were now only a breath apart.

"Why don't
you tell me why you came?" said Tawl.

"I came
because I have to." A long moment passed. "I was born for it."

Nabber shivered.
At that moment the breeze from the ocean was as good as a blade. No one moved.
Jack and Tawl stood opposite each other. Nabber began to understand what had
passed between the two: it was a test. Tawl had been testing Jack.

Nabber knew all
about men's pride and standoffs. He knew that no man wanted to back down to
another. Swift himself had said, "Back down to
a man and you'll spend
the
rest of your days regretting it." Now Tawl and Jack had reached
such an impasse. If someone didn't do something, those two would be standing
there until Rorn sank into the sea. And there was no way Nabber was going to
let that happen. No, sir. Rorn was no good to him underwater.

Reaching in his
sack, he pulled out his darning needle. Lock-breaker, weapon, gold-tester, and
insect-impaler: Nabber never went anywhere without it. He cut across to the
horses, smiled sweetly at Tawl's gelding, whispered, "this is for all
those hours of torture," and thrust the needle into the horse's flank.

The horse reared
up and began bucking. It squealed like a pig. Snapping back its head, it pulled
its reins free of the rock.

The deadlock was
broken. Tawl leapt forward. Jack followed after him. The horse galloped down
the hillside. Nabber shouted, "I'll keep an eye on things here." He
patted Jack's horse on the nose and then settled down to wait.

"His Highness
has been in to see her just this morning, my lord," said mistress Greal.

"How long did
he spend with her?" asked Baralis. "Less than an hour."

Baralis didn't
like this one little bit. Kylock was visiting Maybor's daughter on an almost
daily basis. This meant trouble. He walked across the room, thinking. With the
iron shutters drawn over the windows, his chambers were as dark as night. A
fistful of candles burned on the desk, but they did little except send shadows
into the gloom. "Next time he calls upon the lady, I would appreciate it
if you could . . . "

Mistress Greal
leapt into the pause. "Keep an ear to things. "

"Yes,"
said Baralis, trying hard not to show his distaste. "I am interested in
knowing what passes between them."

"I can tell
you that already, my lord. He goes in there and beats her up. She's always got
either a black eye or bruises on her arms, or a bloody lip." Mistress
Greal spoke with a certain grudging respect. "you've got to give him that,
my lord. His Highness ain't about to be fooled by a pretty face."

"And what
about you? How do you treat the girl?"

"I treat the
girl like the slut she is. She might be in a fancy chamber, but I see to it she
gets only the bare minimum. No fire, no candles. One cold meal a day."

"And how does
she look?"

"She's a
tough one, that's for sure. She's well into her fifth month, by the looks of
things. Her belly's rounding out now. I'd say she'll be birthing in
midwinter."

"Leave me
now," said Baralis. He had no liking for the woman before him. She was far
too familiar with him and he didn't trust her. By the sounds of things she'd already
been spying on Kylock and Melliandra.

Mistress Greal
curtsied in her crablike way, smiled as if they were coconspirators, and left
the room. As soon as the door closed, Crope emerged from the bedchamber.
"Is the toothless woman gone now, master?"

Baralis nodded.
His servant had no liking for Mistress Greal. "Yes, you can come out now.
Stoke up the fire and pour me some holk."

Crope had been
handling his little wooden box and promptly stuffed it into his tunic before
doing as he was bidden.

Baralis came and
sat by the fire. His thoughts returned to Kylock once more. The king was
becoming increasingly unstable. He was growing obsessed with Maybor's daughter.
Baralis had challenged him twice about it: once the day after he took her from
the tower, and again last week. Both times Kylock had come close to drawing
sorcery. The first time Baralis actually had to draw power himself to contain
it. Kylock was potent, strong, the sorcery rolled off his tongue into the air,
and the only thing that stopped it from causing damage was the quickness of
Baralis' reflexes.

It seemed the drug
was no longer enough. A lifetime of use was impairing its effectiveness. Either
that or Kylock was growing more powerful.

Baralis doubted if
Kylock knew what he was doing when he drew sorcery. It was a product of rage,
not intent, and that in itself was worrying. Kylock could not afford to make
the people of Bren any more wary than they already were.

The city was
holding up well under the siege, but over the last six weeks Highwall had been
making progress. First they attacked the north wall of the palace, then they
poisoned the lake, and just yesterday they set fire to a mine and collapsed a
whole section of the curtain wall. Tavalisk was seeing to it that Highwall had
all the mercenaries, provisions, and armaments they needed. Larn stopped
perhaps three-quarters of the supplies from getting through, but the quarter
that was left was enough to ensure that the siege army had no need to return
home.

Meanwhile the
people of Bren were becoming nervous. The Royal Guard regularly swept the city
looking for traitors, and they weren't fussy about matters of evidence or
guilt. Food was short, and what little was available was ten times its normal
price. Several hundred people had died last month from drinking the poisoned
lake water. Lord Guthry had been executed over the scandal that followed.
Apparently he had given the order that only men of fighting age were to be
warned of the danger. Oh, Baralis knew who was really behind the order, but he
made sure that no one else did. Kylock had to be protected from scandal at all
cost.

Baralis reached
over to his desk and pulled down the letter he had been reading before Mistress
Greal's arrival. It was from Tyren, head of the Knights of Valdis. In it, he
expressed his nervousness about the moral tone of Kylock's leadership.
Apparently Tyren was having a little difficulty convincing his brethren to
follow the cause when it was widely rumored that Kylock had kidnapped the woman
who was carrying the legitimate heir to Bren.

People outside of
Bren soon forgot that Melliandra's camp was responsible for murdering both the
duke and his daughter. Baralis threw the letter onto the fire. Tyren would have
to be reminded of the facts one more time.

Not that Tyren was
interested in morals. Money and power were the only two things that mattered to
him. That was why he had written this letter in the first place: it was purely
an opening gambit. He wanted to meet and renegotiate the deal they had struck
in Bren three months back. Now that he had exhausted the spoils of Halcus and
ripped all the assets from its Church, he wanted more. More gold, more
influence, more of anything that would advance his cause.

Helch was now too
much of a backwater for the leader of the knights.

Baralis rubbed his
aching hands. There was so much for him to do. A second meeting with Tyren
would have to be arranged, Kylock needed monitoring, the Highwall army had to
be beaten back from the wall, and the people of Bren had to be watched closely for
signs of insurgency. So far Kylock had done a good job suppressing Melliandra's
supportersthere was nothing like a hanging for sealing would-be traitors'
lips-but the fact that he still had to resort to public executions was telling.
Kylock was not well loved in Bren.

Baralis sighed,
but not heavily. Then there was the other side of events to deal with: the
baker's boy had to be found and destroyed. Skaythe was now over a week behind
him, and that meant Jack and his little party could be landing a boat on Larn
before Skaythe even reached Rorn.

Just last night
the priests at Larn had contacted him. They were beginning to panic. They knew
Jack was on his way and were desperate for help. They had told him many secrets
to secure his cooperation. Baralis now knew the exact date the winter storms
would start in the mountains, he knew the fundamental military weakness of the
city of Ness, he knew there would be an uprising in Helch during the first
winter thaw, and he had learned who was responsible for the recent change in
tactics of the siege army: Maybor. In one night Larn had traded more
information than in six months of verbal parrying.

Baralis smiled as
the vapors of the holk reached his nostrils. He would have to see what he could
do in return. The door opened. Even before he saw who was on the other side,
Baralis stood up. Only Kylock dared enter his chambers without knocking.

"Aah,
Baralis, you look quite the old man warming yourself by the fire." Kylock
strode into the room. He walked around a little and then came to stand by the
desk. He rarely sat.

Today he was
without his gloves. His leather boots were damp. The soles left dark imprints
on the rug, which meant that Kylock had probably just come from the dungeons.

Baralis already
knew better than to ask what Kylock did there. He neither wanted, nor needed,
to know the details. "I believe you saw Melliandra earlier," he said.

"You are not
my keeper, Baralis. I see who I want when I want."

There was an edge
to Kylock's voice and Baralis decided to let the matter rest for today. After
last night's sending from Larn, he felt too weak to cope with Kylock's rage.
"Did you get the note I sent you?" he said, changing the subject
"Yes. That's why I'm here." Kylock poured himself a glass of wine.
Baralis knew he wouldn't drink it "I've been waiting on news of the winter
storms."

"Why?"

Kylock's gaze was
shrewd and clear. He smiled slightly. "According to our friends at Larn,
the first winter storm will hit the mountains in two weeks time. Once that
happens the passes will be blocked with snow and ice for many months, and
conditions will be so bad it will be virtually impossible for an army to cross
the mountains. Today I will send the order for my army at Annis to cross the
mountains immediately. They have been on standby for several weeks now and can
move on a moment's notice. They will take the pass just ahead of the
storm."

The smile came
again, and then Kylock continued. "Doubtless the Annis army will try to
follow us over the mountains, but they're not expecting our move and it will
take them a good week or so to get organized. By the time they're ready the
passes will be closed. They will be forced to spend the winter at home."