Royal Exile (12 page)

‘Good,’ Loethar said. ‘I can still hardly believe I allowed it to happen that way. I should have known better.’

‘There’s someone waiting outside I thought you should meet.’

‘Who?’

‘The name’s Freath. Says he thinks he knows where you can find the other son.’

Gavriel stiffened behind the wall. ‘I’m going to kill that bastard,’ he hissed.

‘Lo save us!’ Leo murmured as Freath was brought in before Loethar. The aide did not look at all frightened. ‘But he doesn’t know where we are!’

‘Are you sure?’

Leo nodded, his mouth set. ‘I told you — no one else alive knows about the ingress except us two. And Piven, actually — he came exploring with me a couple of times.’

‘He doesn’t count.’

They heard Loethar’s voice and turned their attention back to the king’s salon.

‘And you are?’

‘The queen’s aide. Er, how should I address you, Master Loethar? Forgive me; I’m unsure of the protocol toward overthrowers of kings.’

Gavriel watched Loethar’s head snap sharply up from papers on Brennus’s desk to the man before him. He couldn’t see Loethar’s face but he imagined the barbarian’s eyes had narrowed as he scrutinised the servant, the silence lengthening. Meanwhile Vyk gave the newcomer a onceover, swooping down to hop around him.

‘I wish he’d peck his eyes out,’ Gavriel murmured to Leo.

‘You could call me emperor,’ Loethar finally replied, as though testing the word on his tongue. ‘Yes, emperor has a nice sound to it, don’t you think?’

‘Indeed it does, although “sire” is perhaps easier for your new people to stomach … so soon after conquest. I presume all realms now answer to you?’

‘You would be right in that presumption.’

‘Then, as the new head of the Set, perhaps you would call off your intimidating crow and we can talk about how we can help each other?’

Loethar laughed. Gavriel, appalled by Freath’s confidence, almost hoped the barbarian would pull out that mean-looking dagger and drag it across the traitor’s throat right now.

‘Call me sire, then. And Vyk prefers “raven”. What makes you think there is a
we?
’

‘Well, sire,’ Freath began, pushing once at the bird with his foot as a warning and then ignoring it, ‘I have walked among the power brokers for more than two decades. I am an aide to the king and queen of the most influential and powerful of all the realms of the Set. I would urge you not to waste this resource. I have knowledge of a like you can’t imagine.’

‘Such as?’

‘Such as who might bend easily to your will.’

‘And who might not?’

Freath smiled. ‘It seems we understand each other. There will always be rebels. I can help you with them. For starters, the De Vis boys will almost certainly find a way to rise against you.’

‘You bastard son of a whore, Freath,’ Gavriel growled. This was followed by a threat as to what he was going to cut off Freath’s body first and where he planned to put that spare bit of flesh. Leo glanced at him, worried.

Stracker laughed. ‘That is a jest, of course,’ he said to Freath, his words threatening.

But Freath seemed unimpressed; his expression remained unchanged while Loethar remained motionless.

‘I’ve never been known as a man of comedy, sire. The De Vis family is fiercely loyal to the Valisars. And your somewhat theatrical murder of their father is not something the sons will be easily able to come to terms with, I hazard.’

‘Tell me about them.’

‘The boys?’

Loethar nodded.

‘They’re twins. They look similar but are not identical and they have vastly different personalities. Corbel is the serious one, the younger one, I believe, by just a few minutes, but still waters run extremely deep with that boy. I say “boy” but he is a man and if my instincts serve me right, he is capable of being single-minded and ruthless.’

Gavriel realised Leo had grabbed his arm. He’d had no idea that his own fists were resting white-knuckled against the stone. He forced himself to relax and felt Leo’s relief beside him.

Freath continued. ‘The other boy, Gavriel, is outspoken, has opinions and expresses them. He’s more showy than his brother. They’re both handsome but one tends to notice Gavriel more. He is an excellent swordsman, I believe, skilled with most weapons, in fact.’

‘How old are they?’

Freath frowned, thinking.

‘A rough estimate will do,’ Stracker chimed in.

‘Actually, I can tell you exactly how old they are. They are turning eighteen in leaf-fall.’

‘And you believe these De Vis boys should be of concern to me? Are you suggesting I should be fearful of mere nestlings?’

‘Not afraid, no.
Aware
perhaps is more appropriate. They will not pay you any homage, sire. They worshipped their father, respected their king and are devoted to each other. Kill one and I suspect you’d kill the other fairly effectively. I doubt very much, considering the way they’ve been raised and by whom, that they would be frightened to die for what they consider their honour.’

‘And what is their particular focus of honour?’

‘Why, the Valisar king of course.’

‘King? Did you not spy Brennus’s corpse, Freath?’ Stracker asked in an acid tone. ‘There is no Valisar king.’

Freath ignored him. Gavriel couldn’t help but be impressed by the aide’s composure, even as he hated his treachery. ‘Sire, I do not refer to King Brennus but to his son, King Leonel.’

This created a tense silence during which Gavriel felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. Until now all the people in authority had been talking about Leo as the young prince — keep him safe, he’s the future, perhaps one day … But now, for the first time since the attack on Penraven had turned from threat to reality, Gavriel felt the full weight of responsibility that was resting on his shoulders alone. Leo was no boy prince, a young sapling to be protected simply because he was a Valisar. He was now the sovereign, and while he remained alive, Penraven had its Valisar king.

Leo whispered into the dark. ‘That’s scary to hear.’

Gavriel felt a rush of rage crystallise into something hard and unyielding. They would have to kill him to get to Leo.

Loethar’s voice broke through the silence. ‘You call him King Leonel?’

‘I don’t, sire. But everyone other than myself will behind your back. And as long as he breathes, he is the king — sovereign of this realm, and figurehead to the Set. As long as people keep faith with that they will carry a torch that the Set will rise once again and that you will be vanquished.’

Loethar banged his fist on the table. ‘I could have you gutted before me, throw your entrails onto a fire before you’re even dead.’

‘I know you could, sire. I suspect you won’t, though, because as I mentioned earlier I know everyone there is to know in this realm. I am familiar with most of the nobles and dignatories — certainly the royals, if any survive — in the rest of the Set. The transient pleasure of opening my throat would be a shameful waste of the resource … sire.’

‘Brazen, indeed. You impress me, aide.’

‘Thank you, sire. My previous employers were not so mindful of my use to them … or how I could damage them if I chose to.’

‘I will kill him,’ Gavriel hissed.

‘You’ll have to line up behind me,’ Leo whispered angrily and Gavriel, in spite of his fury, felt a spark of satisfaction at the youngster’s threat.

‘I shall give you first hack at him,’ Gavriel muttered back, ‘but only because you’re king,’ he added before returning his attention to the men they spied on.

Loethar regarded the servant. ‘And you want me to guarantee your life if I allow you to … er, how did you say it … share how you can damage the remaining Valisars?’

‘My life at the very least, sire. I am suggesting you take me on as your personal aide.’

Stracker laughed but there was no mirth in the sound, only menace. Piven chose this moment to reach up from the floor where he had been amusing himself and wipe his hands, sticky from his father’s blood, against his white shirt. Clutching Freath’s robes, he hauled himself to his feet.

‘Ah, Piven, you have been spared, I see,’ Freath commented, staring at the boy as though he were an insect. ‘Why is that, I wonder?’

‘He amuses me,’ Loethar said. ‘I like the idea that once I’ve dealt with the heir the only remaining Valisar left — although not of the blood — is a lost soul. He can be a symbol of the former Penraven, equally lost.’

‘Very good, sire,’ Freath said, finding a tight, brief smile that was gone almost as soon as it arrived. ‘Shall I make myself useful and have this child cleaned up for you?’

Loethar stretched. Gavriel felt sick. It seemed as though a bargain had somehow been struck during that conversation. He could sense Leo looking at him for explanation but he couldn’t speak.

‘You may take him and bathe him but put that shirt back on him. I want his father’s blood on show for all to see.’

‘Very ghoulish, sire. Appropriate humbling for watching eyes.’

‘But first, the daughter.’ Loethar paused.

Freath filled the pause with a nod. Then added, ‘Now that you’ve seen the corpse shall I inter it into the family tomb?’

‘No. Burn it. Then scatter the ashes from the castle battlements. Or, rather, I shall. We’ll have her mother present too.’

‘For the final humiliation?’

‘Not quite. I have one left.’

‘Will you be killing queen Iselda, sire?’ Freath asked conversationally.

‘I’m not sure. I haven’t yet made up my mind.’

Gavriel closed his eyes. He wished Leo did not have to share this.

‘May I suggest that if you’re keeping Piven as a symbol of the downfall of the Valisars —’

‘He will be my pet.’

‘Indeed, sire. I was going to say that perhaps you should keep the queen as your servant. That would be a most degrading role for her.’

Gavriel watched Loethar walk around the desk. He could finally see the barbarian’s face and it was filled with amusement as he considered Freath’s remarkably distasteful idea. The raven was back on his shoulder. If the scene were not so sinister, the pair would look comical.

‘Or as your concubine,’ Stracker added.

Freath said nothing to this, simply blinked in irritation.

‘It’s just a thought, sire,’ he said instead to Loethar.

‘I shall consider it,’ Loethar said. ‘But before you go,’ he said to Freath, who was bending to take Piven’s hand, ‘I want to know about the eldest son.’

‘My apologies, of course,’ Freath said, all politeness.

Gavriel bent down to Leo. ‘At least your mother remains alive another day.’

‘What is a concubine?’

‘Another word for servant. She takes the night shift, cares for his needs when the day servants are asleep,’ Gavriel explained carefully, glad it was so dark that Leo could not search his face for the truth he had sidestepped so briskly.

‘… twelve summertides, frail and still very much a child,’ Freath was saying. ‘His head is filled with horses and bladder ball games that he plays badly. Useless with weapons.’

In the ingress Gavriel felt astonishment at this comment and knew Leo would be feeling the same.

‘But Brennus would surely have been training him for his role.’

‘Oh, yes, but only in a mild way, sire. Leo is still just a boy. He hardly knows his head from his arse, if you’ll pardon my language.’

‘You don’t have to worry over my sensitivities, Freath,’ Loethar reassured.

The aide nodded. ‘What I mean is that he’s extremely immature — still something of a mummy’s boy. We’re talking about an indulged brat more than capable of throwing tantrums while incapable of manoeuvring a horse or his weapons with any dexterity.’

Leo turned and glared at Gavriel. ‘Lying bastard!’ he hissed.

‘It seems Freath is out to impress the barbarian. Don’t worry about it, Leo. We’ll kill him with our bare hands if we must, as soon as we get the chance.’ Gavriel knew his words were an empty threat but he felt better for having said them.

‘So while the De Vis twins are a threat, you are saying the heir to the throne is not.’

‘No, sire, that’s not what I’m saying. The De Vis family is your enemy, and they would have been without your splitting the legate’s head in half,’ Freath warned. ‘The heir is not a physical threat to you. He wouldn’t know how to attack, how to rally a force, how to even plan beyond where to play on a given day. He’s still in that childish mindset of the world revolving around his selfish needs, especially his belly.’

Loethar looked amused but Gavriel bristled. Freath knew Leo well and he could have been describing a stranger for all his words resembled the prince. ‘He struggles to make his verbs work, so he is hardly ready to make a realm work for him,’ Freath continued with utter disdain. ‘Brennus never expected to lose his throne. The threat from the Steppes was always that — just a threat. It hadn’t sunken past the shallowest of consciousness that you might succeed in your desire for empire and that the prince might need to be fully readied in all aspects of sovereignty.’

Again Gavriel caught a glance of bewilderment from his new king.

‘Your point?’ Loethar asked.

‘My point, sire, is that you have nothing to fear from Leonel in person. It’s what he represents that should trouble you. No one will let go of the fact that the heir exists — if they believe that to be true — because that means the Valisar dynasty is alive.’

‘I want to know where he is.’

‘And I believe I can help you. But I do require guarantees, sire.’

‘So you say. Give me your terms.’

‘I have heard a rumour that you are gathering all the empowered people from the conquered nations.’

For the first time since Freath had arrived Gavriel noticed the barbarian lose his casual stance. Loethar stiffened. ‘And what’s that to you?’

Freath gave a sly shrug. ‘Well, I can’t imagine you’d go to all that trouble and not make use of that collected power.’

‘And?’

‘I want some of it.’

Stracker grabbed Freath by his shirtfront, pulling him close to his pockmarked face. ‘You don’t demand anything. You’re lucky to have lived this long.’

Freath remained undaunted. ‘Phew, we eat the leaf of the cherrel to keep our breath fresh, Stracker.’