The Godspeaker Trilogy (190 page)

“You don't know that's still true!” he said, desperate. “Zandakar, you don't even know if Vortka's still alive. What if he's perished? What if there's a – a new chalava-hagra for Mijak? One who doesn't know you, or isn't gajka . If you show your face to your brother or your mother they will kill you. You can't go. You can't .”

Zandakar shrugged. “I must.”

Oh, for pity's sake . Dexterity stamped around the candlelit room, and came to a halt on its far side. This was ridiculous. He couldn't let Zandakar go.

Dexie, love, you have to. And you'll have to go with him.

What? What? Was that Hettie's voice? Was she here? Startled, he stared around the lacquered chamber, but could see only Zandakar. And then he caught an elusive hint of lavender and roses. Her favourite scents.

Hettie.

Dexie, go with him. You'll be all right.

He wanted to stamp his feet and wave his arms. He wanted to shout, Go with him? Go with him? Hettie, are you mad? I have a donkey, I have a cottage, I have a business on its last legs. I can't go traipsing off to Icthia to Zandakar's family.

Dexie, it's important. Trust me. Go.

What? Why? Why was it important?

But Hettie was gone again. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

He looked at Zandakar, still feeling sick. His heart was threatening to shatter his ribs. Say it, say it, before you change your mind . “So you're set on this? There's nothing I can say to keep you in Ethrea?”

Slowly Zandakar shook his head. “ Yatzhay .”

Oh dear, oh dear …“Then, if you're going, Zandakar, I'm going too.”

Zandakar stepped back, shocked. “ Wei! ”

“You leave me no choice!” he replied, almost breathless. “I'm responsible for you, Zandakar. Like you, I gave Rhian my word. You might be comfortable going back on it, but I'm not!”

“Dexterity—”

The door in the wall slid open again, and Han returned. Sun-dao was with him.

“Well, Zandakar?” said the emperor.

“I go,” said Zandakar.

Dexterity wiped his sweaty palms down his front. “Actually, Emperor Han, we both go.”

Han and his witch-men exchanged startled glances. “Mister Jones—”

“I'm sorry, I have to,” he said quickly. “I can't let Zandakar go alone.”

“He won't be alone,” said the emperor, displeased. “Sun-dao will be with him.”

“That's not the same and you know it!”

Zandakar was shaking his head. “You stay, Dexterity. You safe in Ethrea.”

“While you're risking your life in Icthia?” he retorted. “I hardly think so. Are you mad? I didn't rescue you from that slave ship and traipse from one end of the kingdom to the other with you under my feet to let you out of my sight now. Besides. You'll need me as a witness. Even if I do explain to Rhian that you had to go, that you're not betraying her, who knows what kind of mischief ambassadors like that Gutten will look to make? If I'm with you, if I can swear that all you did was try to stop Mijak in Icthia, well…” he sighed gustily. “We might manage to keep the league of trading nations in one piece.”

Emperor Han tapped a slender finger against his lips. “You are determined, toymaker?”

He nodded. “I am.” Thanks to Hettie .

“And yet I could deny you. It's within my power to keep you here, and let Zandakar go.”

On a deep breath Dexterity made himself meet Han's intimidating eyes. “You could,” he admitted. “But I promise it'll be far less troublesome if you don't.”

Han's gaze chilled. “Truly.”

With a glance at Zandakar, Dexterity took a step closer to him. “Emperor Han, believe me. I don't want to go. I don't want Zandakar to go. This is a fool's errand, I'm sure. But if I can't convince him to refuse you, then I must go with him. I gave Rhian my word to keep him safe. Would you have both of us forsworn?”

“You are a harsh man, toymaker,” said Han.

No, I'm a madman. Just you ask Ursa.

“Well?” he demanded, folding his arms. “Is it settled?”

Han nodded. “It is settled. Sun-dao will take you and Zandakar to Icthia. You have earned the thanks of Tzhung-tzhungchai.”

“Get us to Icthia and back in one piece and you can keep your thanks,” he said, not caring in the least it was a rank discourtesy, or that a man from Tzung would likely die for such words. This wasn't Tzhung, it was Ethrea, and this wretched emperor was swiftly proving a thorn in the kingdom's side.

Han considered him. “You are not pleased, toymaker.”

“No. And neither would you be, Emperor Han, were you in my place. Now if you'd be so kind as to supply me with pen and paper I'll write a note for Her Majesty, that you can see deliv—”

“A note?” Emperor Han shook his head. “Alas. Informing Rhian of this venture would…complicate matters. They are complicated enough as it is.”

“No note?” Dexterity gaped at him. “You expect Zandakar and me to simply…disappear? Vanish without explanation? Emperor Han, that could be seen as treason .”

“But it is not treason,” said the emperor calmly. “We know you go to save Ethrea, Mister Jones. And when you return, your little queen will know it too.”

He turned to Zandakar. “We can't go, Zandakar. Not like this. She'll think we've betrayed her. How will she explain our disappearance to the dukes? To the ambassadors? We'll make her look a fool. We'll weaken her position. We can't .” He turned back to Han. “We can't.”

“Dexterity is right,” said Zandakar. “Rhian hushla must know.”

So tall, so elegant, Emperor Han clasped his hands and sighed. His dark eyes were shadowed with many thoughts. “Your devotion to Queen Rhian is moving. How hard it is to fault men who honour their sovereign with such passion.” He smiled, an ambiguous curve of thin lips. “I am an emperor of Tzhung, with imperial ancestors as numerous as there are stars in the night sky…and yet you have humbled me. You, a toymaker, and a brute, bloodsoaked savage from the far east. The wind whispers its praise, gentlemen. It honours your hearts.”

Taken aback, Dexterity watched as Han approached, Sun-dao a pace behind him. Flinched, a little, as an imperial hand came to rest coolly on his shoulder. Zandakar didn't flinch but his blue gaze sharpened as Han touched him too.

“Yes, I am humbled…” Han murmured. “And yet, alas…unmoved.”

The lacquered room disappeared in a howling storm of wind.

When Dexterity opened his eyes again he saw a ceiling of silver stars and two moons overhead, one plump and one slender. Groggy and groaning, he shoved aside the blanket covering him, sat up—and promptly wished he hadn't.

“Be still,” said Zandakar, taking his elbow. “Witch-man power strong. Hurt belly, hurt head.”

Yes, it certainly did. Nauseous, his head pounding, his mouth dry, Dexterity waited for the world to stop spinning. When at last it settled he took a deep breath and looked around. A brisk salt breeze blew directly in his face. A sloshy, wet sound was all he could hear. The wooden floor beneath him moved disconcertingly up and down.

“God save us! We're at sea ?”

They were. At sea on a very small boat. A lamp had been lashed to the vessel's single mast. Its flame burned steadily, edging Zandakar's face in golden light. “ Zho .”

“Where at sea? Where are we?”

Zandakar shrugged. “ Wei know.” He nodded. “Witch-man know. Witch-man sleeping.”

Sun-dao . Dexterity shifted, feeling splinters even through his trousers. An arm's length away Han's witch-man was sitting upright, eyes closed, hands clasped in his lap. Breathing in, breathing out, oblivious to his surroundings.

Oh dear. “Zandakar…does he look unwell to you?”

Zandakar was frowning. “I think you say…exhausted? Ethrea far behind. Witch-man bring us here with witch-man power. Much power. Very hard.” Despite his anger, Zandakar seemed impressed. “Sun-dao say he rest till sun, then more fly in wind.”

“He say – I mean, said? You've spoken with him? When? How long have I been asleep, Zandakar?” A cold thought touched him. Shivering, he tugged the blanket close again. “How long have we been in this boat?”

Another shrug. “Witch-man say same night.”

“Truly?” He shivered again. Beware the emperor and the witch-men of Tzhung-tzhungchai . “Oh dear. Ursa's going to be furious.”

“And Rhian,” said Zandakar. His fingers traced the scar on his arm. “Rhian…”

Dexterity rallied. “It's not our fault. We were kidnapped. Stolen away without our consent. That Emperor Han, he ran roughshod right over us. You can be certain I'll lodge a formal complaint as soon as we get home.”

The lamplight was poor, but even so the glitter of wry amusement in Zandakar's eyes was clear. “If we get home, Dexterity.”

He stared. Every so often, Zandakar's Ethrean was perfect. He could easily have wished this wasn't one of those times. “Yes,” he said, subdued. “If we get home.” And tipping back his head, he looked at the distant, indifferent stars.

Do you hear me, Hettie? You'd better help us get home!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“
G
one?” Rhian stared at Ursa. “What do you mean they're gone? They can't be. Gone where?”

“I don't know, Majesty,” said Ursa, her face pale with distress. “Jones didn't leave a note. All he left was his money-belt full to bursting with coin, stuffed to the bottom of the flour barrel as usual. And his dratted donkey, bellowing fit to raise its stable roof. The neighbours are most displeased.”

“ I'm most displeased!” snapped Rhian, and took a turn about her parlour, acutely aware of Alasdair's silent, brooding presence before the fireplace. “When did you last see them, Ursa?”

“Yesterday morning, Majesty. They were going down to the harbour markets. Jones had toys to sell, and Zandakar was an extra pair of hands.”

“And you've no idea what happened next?”

“Well, they went home, Majesty,” said Ursa. “But after that? No. Jones did mention something about sightseeing round the home districts today, but I don't know if he went. All I can tell you for certain is he asked me to dinner tonight, and he's not at home.”

“Have you told anyone else, Ursa?”

Ursa shook her head. “Of course not, Majesty. I put the donkey in the field at the bottom of the lane, to quiet its carry-on, then came straight here.”

Halting beside her favourite armchair, Rhian nodded. “Good. That's good.” She risked a glance at Alasdair. He was watching her, his expression noncommittal, his eyes accusing. I told you so, Rhian. I told you it was foolish to let him go …She felt her breath hitch, and her skin flush hot. “Ursa, you know Dexterity better than anyone. Can you think where he might be, or why he might have…disappeared?”

“No,” said Ursa, so anxious. “This isn't like him.”

“And Zandakar?” said Alasdair. His voice was deceptively mild. “You're a woman of experience, Ursa. You had him under your eye all that time on the road. You formed an opinion. Has he murdered Mister Jones and fled Ethrea on some foreign ship?”

“ Murdered? ” Ursa's cheeks lost all their colour. “No. No, he wouldn't do that. Zandakar wouldn't murder Jones.”

“Are you sure?” said Alasdair, brutally gentle.

Rhian turned on him. “Don't,” she said, her voice hard and low. “You're frightening her.”

“Someone needs to be frightened,” said Alasdair. “Zandakar is a frightening man. I seem to be the only one capable of remembering that.” His teeth bared in a mirthless smile. “Perhaps because I'm a man too, and not an impressionable woman.”

Ursa rallied. “Now, now, Your Majesty, I'm sure there's no need to be nasty. I'm too old to have my head turned by a pretty face. And even if I wasn't, I promise you I was never a woman to be so easily taken in. I might never have married, but that's not to say I don't know my way around men.”

Alasdair's smile now was far less intimidating. “I don't doubt it, Ursa. You're a woman of profound good sense, and I value your opinion. Why are you so certain Mister Jones isn't murdered?”

“It's hard to say,” she replied slowly. “I mean, I've had my suspicions of Zandakar, I'll not deny it. He's a heathen and a killer, we all know that. But he's fond of Jones and I do believe he wants to help the queen. I believe he believes if he helps Her Majesty he'll be helping his own people. I think that's what he wants more than anything else. And even if he wasn't fond of Jones, which he is, killing him won't help Mijak.”

“Then where are they?” Rhian demanded. “This makes no sense !”

“Perhaps Hettie's sent them off on some wild-goose chase, Your Majesty,” said Ursa, shrugging. “She's done it before, and Jones has kept quiet about it till after.” Her cheeks pinked a little. “He loves you like a daughter, you know, but Hettie…” She sighed. “Well, Hettie may be dead but she's still his wife.”

“That's as may be, but I'm his queen and Hettie shouldn't forget it!” Breathing hard, Rhian reined in her temper. “All right, Ursa. Thank you for coming to me so promptly. Should you be unduly pressed for news of Mister Jones by anyone, no matter how seemingly innocent, let me know at once. And if you should by chance hear from him or Zandakar…”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Ursa, and offered a cricked-knee curtsey. “King Alasdair.”

As the parlour door closed behind her, Alasdair folded his arms. “Rhian—”

“ Don't !” she said again, feeling vicious. Feeling betrayed. She could easily, treacherously, dissolve into tears. “There's an explanation. A reason. There has to be.”

“Of course there is,” said Alasdair, his voice level, his eyes burning. “Zandakar—”

“ Hasn't betrayed me !” She retreated until she stood with her back to the curtained window, fists clenched, her hair still sweat-sticky and plastered to her head. Ursa's news had burst upon them moments after she'd returned from her evening hotas . She hated dancing them alone, she felt incomplete without Zandakar to dance with, but not to dance them would be to let him down.

And has he let me down, instead?

“He hasn't betrayed me,” she repeated, willing her voice to stay strong. “Neither has Dexterity. I'd stake my life on that. He's been a friend to me since I was a baby, he—” And then she turned because the parlour door was pushing open.

“God's grace on you, Your Majesties!” said Ludo cheerfully, entering the chamber all sunshine and smiles. “And on me, for I'm returned from the wilds of Hartshorn and Meercheq having not slain Duke Adric. Though I confess I was sore provoked once or—” He stopped, his smile dimming. “What's wrong? What's happened?”