The Legacy of Lord Regret: Strange Threads: Book 1 (30 page)

They reached the throne room, and heard a whimpering coming from within. Without waiting to be announced, Despirrow banged
open the door and strode inside.

At the room’s far end Forger sat on the throne, watching with interest as a burly torturer cut strips from a man chained to
the wall. The torturer looked bleary-eyed, as if his efforts wore at him, and there seemed a halting reluctance to his movements.
Next to Forger stood a grey-haired old man in a brown robe, reading a scroll.

‘Despirrow!’ Forger exclaimed, clapping his hands with delight as he stood and descended from the dais. ‘I was beginning to
think I’d done something to offend you.’

‘Of course not,’ said Despirrow, trying to echo Forger’s warmth. ‘I merely wanted to take in some of the world before seeking
you out – you know how it is.’

‘Ah, yes, of course.’

Forger loomed over him, at least two heads taller – at peak strength, by the look of him. He clasped Despirrow by the shoulders.

‘Let me look at you! My, you’re a bit tattered.’

‘I had a little run-in.’

‘Threver!’

The old man appeared by Forger’s side.

‘My lord?’

‘Organise some quarters and fresh clothes for my friend Despirrow here. Make sure that the clothes are noble – he does enjoy
dressing the part.’

‘Right away, my lord.’

The man bowed to each of them, and Despirrow was pleased to have respect accorded to him.

‘Now,’ said Forger, rounding on the torturer, ‘Yoj, get out! Despirrow, you must tell me everything.’

Soon Forger was loping back and forth, covering the room in frighteningly long strides. Despirrow sat watching him from the
throne, reclining as if it were his.

‘No!’ said Forger furiously. ‘I cannot believe it.’

Despirrow shrugged. ‘I’m only telling you what I saw with my own two eyes.’

‘Karrak would not turn against me!’

‘Salarkis visited and told me he had, and then Karrak showed up and tried to kill me. That’s about as much proof as
I
need.’

‘Salarkis! And where has that stony bird been? Appeared to me once, acted all, I don’t know … aloof, unfriendly … and hasn’t
bothered to seek me out since!’

The man chained to the wall gave a low moan.

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Forger, and the man jolted as his backbone ripped out, to dangle from his waist like a bone tail.

‘Idle pleasure?’ Despirrow arched an eyebrow towards the quivering corpse. ‘Or foe?’

‘A fellow I met in the dungeons,’ said Forger. ‘I released him, and he shot me with a crossbow. Not that I bore him any ill
will, for it was just a silly mistake, but he served as well as any to help me stay strong.’ He shook his head. ‘This doesn’t
fit. Why would Karrak … why would he …’ He had a thought. ‘Come with me.’

Despirrow slid off the throne to hasten after the loping Forger. He led them down a level, along a corridor, through a guarded
door, and into a room where a threader sat gazing into a mirror.

‘You,’ said Forger. ‘Seen anything?’

‘Yes, my lord – I was about to send word. Braston is badly injured, back from a failed expedition to kill … er …’ she paused,
noticing Despirrow standing by Forger, openly eyeing her off, ‘… Despirrow. There is further talk in Loppolo’s chambers about
killing Braston, trying to make it look as if he died of his injuries.’

‘Have you seen Karrak?’ demanded Forger, and for a moment she was transfixed by the intensity of his stare.

‘I … don’t know what he looks like, lord.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ growled Forger. ‘Run along then.’

She beat a hasty retreat, and Forger went to look in the mirror.

‘What is this thing?’ asked Despirrow, joining him.

‘Look into it, and you will see what its friends in Althala Castle see.’

Despirrow was surprised. ‘How remarkable.’

‘Shh. I want to listen.’

Despirrow stared into the mirror as the view it showed changed. It was as if he looked though a window into another room –
and the room was Loppolo’s chamber.

‘The people will never stand for it,’ growled Loppolo, his voice somewhat muted. ‘They will storm the castle and have my head
on a pole!’

‘Braston’s on the brink as it is,’ said a fat, aging fellow. ‘We could have a healer deliver him poison, under the guise of
tonic
, and it would appear as if he had merely succumbed to his hurts.’

‘Don’t be a fool, Tursa,’ scowled Loppolo. ‘You think you can kill Wardens so easily?’

‘Braston used poison on Despirrow,’ said Tursa evenly.

Ah, that’s right
, thought Despirrow.
How could I have forgotten? Oh, yes – I didn’t
.

‘Yes,’ said Loppolo, ‘but that was some kind of special brew, something potent and arcane, and nobody knows exactly what.’

‘Some think it could have been a common poison, but laced with curltooth, my lord.’

Curltooth
, thought Despirrow.
That makes sense
.

The wine had been sweet, the best he’d ever had – but how it had twisted in his gut, deadened the pathways of his body, and
shot pain through his spasmodically beating heart.

‘When again,’ Tursa said, ‘will Braston be so weak, I ask? This is the perfect – maybe the only – opportunity to finish him.’

A door banged somewhere, and the nobles glanced at each other nervously.

‘Who’s that?’ called Loppolo.

A muscular young man emerged into view.

‘Ah, Captain Jandryn.’

‘You sent for me, lord?’

‘Yes. I wonder if you have reported to Yalenna, yet?’

‘Not yet, my lord.’

‘You have been keeping an eye on her, though?’

‘When it is appropriate to do so.’

‘Well find an excuse to go and visit her. I want to know all I can about what went on in Saphura.’

Jandryn nodded. ‘As you wish, lord.’

When he had gone, Loppolo leaned forward.

‘Curltooth, yes,’ he said. ‘I have heard that theory before, but only as the guesswork of storytellers. No one really knows
for sure.’

‘The minstrels’ tales make sense, lord. Curltooth would enhance the qualities of a poison, bring out its worst, as it
were. And even if it did not work, no one would have to know it came from you.’

‘This is pointless,’ said Loppolo. ‘We don’t have any curltooth.’

‘Ah,’ said Tursa, reaching into his pocket. He produced a small vial, inside which clung a few brown specks. ‘But we do.’

‘But how? There hasn’t been any in years!’

‘It’s very rare, that is certain. This cost me a great sum to procure, but I would gladly sacrifice a pleasant meal to see
the kingdom restored to rights.’

He held out the vial to Loppolo, who took it gingerly.

‘I have a man in my employ,’ Tursa continued, ‘blessed with an absence of scruples. He waits outside, and will deliver to
Braston, should I ask, a pleasant tonic, looking much like lily water – yet mixed with heartsorrow.’

Loppolo turned the vial thoughtfully in his hands.

Forger stirred beside Despirrow. ‘Perhaps this is better than seeing Karrak,’ he murmured.

‘Can we find Braston himself with this thing?’

‘Maybe.’

The view changed to an expansive bedroom, and there, sure enough, was Braston. He lay half under the sheets, the exposed parts
of his body a stitched mess, bandaged in various places, scabby and bleeding, his skin pale and his eyes closed.

‘I do enjoy seeing the fruits of my labour,’ said Despirrow.

‘You did this to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Impressive. You must tell me the story in great detail.’

‘Gladly.’

‘It’s a shame you didn’t finish him off.’

Yes
, thought Despirrow.
Especially now that I know what happens to our powers when we die
.

They watched Braston for a few moments, then the mirror changed views again – Forger was controlling it somehow in a way Despirrow
couldn’t quite work out – and they saw some other places around the castle, but nothing of any consequence. Eventually they
cycled back to Loppolo’s quarters.

A man now stood amongst the nobles and ex-king, wearing the robes of a threader. In his hand, a tall cup made popping sounds,
as Tursa sprinkled in the curltooth.

‘They’ve decided to do it!’ said Forger excitedly. ‘I didn’t think they would, I thought Loppolo too timorous!’

‘Succeed in your mission,’ Loppolo said dully, ‘and you will be generously rewarded.’

The ‘healer’ nodded, and departed with the cup.

‘This is miraculous!’ said Forger. ‘They’re actually going to do our work for us!’

Despirrow’s mind began to tick. If Braston did take the poison, then he would die – Despirrow was sure of it, sure that was
what had been done to
him
. What, then, would happen to Braston’s threads? Who would inherit his Spell-given abilities?

‘Look!’ said Forger excitedly. The view changed to the passage outside Braston’s door. Two guards stood
there, their eyes turning to a flight of stairs as the ‘healer’ emerged. He approached the door, nodded to the guards.

‘I’m here to attend the king,’ he said, and swirled the cup. ‘I bring a healing tonic that will see him back on his feet in
no time.’

The guards apparently did not suspect a thing. They stood aside and one of them even reached to open the door.

Despirrow knew a moment of agonising indecision – and, as the guard’s fingers touched the doorknob, he stopped time.

The view in the mirror froze, and it took Forger a moment to realise what had happened.

‘What – why did you do that?’ he exclaimed, turning angrily. ‘Yalenna is in the castle, Karrak too, if you’re to be believed.
This will give them a chance to notice what’s going on! To save Braston!’

Despirrow really did not want to tell Forger why he had stopped time, but staring into those blazing eyes, he could not think
of any explanation other than the truth.

‘Listen to me,’ he said. ‘You said you wanted to hear the story of what happened in Saphura. Well, here’s one part of it –
Karrak has inherited Stealer’s power.’

‘What?’

‘He killed her, and now he can do what she could.’

Forger frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, he didn’t used to be able to make bridges disappear with rhymes. I think the Spell’s threads must be acting
again as they did that day on the Spire, when they leapt at us out of Regret.’

‘You think Stealer’s threads are in Karrak?’

‘Yes. And I think that when Braston dies, his power will go to whichever one of
us
is closest.’

Forger’s frown grew deeper. Then he shrugged.

‘What of it? I don’t want to be able to see damned
injustice
wherever I go – nor do you, I daresay. It would probably drive us mad.’

‘What about Braston’s monumental strength? Do you really want to see it go to Yalenna, or Karrak? To make our enemies more
powerful?’

‘I have not decided yet if that’s what Karrak really is.’

‘Even so, why take the risk?’

‘What are you suggesting then?’

‘One of us has to be on hand when Braston is finished.’

Forger shook his head. ‘There’s no time. We can’t threadwalk while the world is still. And if you start things moving again,
it will take too long – Braston will be drinking the poison before we can hope to set off, and heartsorrow works swiftly.’

‘Your thinking is limited. Certainly we cannot thread-walk there quickly enough … but we could
walk
there.’

‘What?’

‘No time is ticking by. No Wardens have any of their powers. Braston is sealed in his room, will receive no healing beyond
what his own body can muster. And without food
or water to fuel his recovery, he will likely lie in torpor for the weeks it will take us to journey on foot to Althala.’

‘I don’t know. That is a very long time to hold the world steady, and it
will
do damage.’

‘Don’t be so weak,’ said Despirrow derisively.

Forger took him by the shirt and hauled him up off his feet.

‘I may not have my powers,’ he said, ‘but I’m still bigger than you, Despirrow.’

‘Release me,’ snarled Despirrow. Forger let go, and Despirrow tried to make his landing as dignified as possible. He took
a moment to straighten out his ruffled collar and smooth his front.

‘I can go alone,’ he said, ‘if you do not wish the journey. Once Braston is dead, I can return far more swiftly.’

‘You do intend to return?’

‘We stand a better chance against them united, don’t you agree? That is why I came here in the first place.’

Forger got an odd look then. ‘Yes.’

‘What have you been doing here, anyway?’

‘Tallahow’s army is making ready to begin the march to Ander. We leave tomorrow morning … well, once “tomorrow” stops being
such a relative term.’

‘You intend to conquer afresh?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, let me play my part.’

‘It is many leagues to Althala.’

‘I will make it. And I shall win for us advantage.’

Forger turned away. ‘Very well. But be as swift as you can manage. While none of us will starve, we will indeed go hungry.’