The Redemption of Althalus (70 page)

“Don’t bite your fingernails, Andine,” Leitha told her small friend.

“I’m just a little nervous, Leitha,” Andine replied.

“Dweia won’t let anything happen to you, dear.”

“I’m not worried about
that,
Leitha. Do you think we should run through the performance one more time?”

“Andine, dear, we’ve practiced it dozens of times already. If you haven’t got it right by now, you never will.”

“I always get so
nervous
before I make a public appearance,” Andine admitted. “Once I get started, I’m all right, but the waiting is awful.” She held out her visibly shaking right hand. “Look at that,” she said. “It happens every single time.”

“You’ll do just fine, dear,” Leitha said, taking the smaller girl in her arms.

Eliar came into Dhakan’s study. “They’re stirring up their cooking fires right now, Althalus,” he reported. “As soon as Gelta’s regiments eat breakfast, they’ll be ready to move.”

“
They
might be, but I think Gelta may want to hold off just a bit,” Althalus replied with a slight frown. “She’s supposed to put her foot on Andine’s neck at noon, and if she does it too early, it’ll probably make things fall apart in the same way they would if she did it late.”

“I wish Emmy was here.”

“She is, Eliar,” Althalus assured him. “We might not be able to see her, but she’s here, all the same.”

The morning dragged on, lasting, it seemed, forever. Then, perhaps two hours before noon, the Queen of Night emerged from her pavilion bellowing orders. Her soldiers scurried to their horses, mounted, and formed up. Then Gelta pulled herself up into her saddle and sat, quite obviously waiting for something.

Then Argan and the somber-faced Yakhag came out of the garish pavilion. Argan spoke briefly with the Queen of Night, and a short argument broke out between them.

Yakhag, however, clashed his mailed fist against his black-armored chest, and Gelta and Argan both fell silent with slightly apprehensive expressions.

Yakhag spoke to the both of them at some length, his face expressionless and his eyes dead.

Gelta started to object once, but Yakhag once again smashed his fist against his armor.

“That’s a novel way to tell people to shut up,” Sergeant Khalor observed. “There must be some sort of threat involved.”

“Probably so,” Althalus agreed. “Emmy doesn’t want to talk about Yakhag, but I’ve seen him bully Gelta once or twice. She’s
really
afraid of that one.”

“Why do you and Eliar and Gher always call your wife ‘Emmy’?”

“It’s one of those pet names married people come up with now and then,” Althalus replied. “It sort of rubbed off on Eliar and Gher. Keep an eye on Yakhag, Khalor. Ghend and Argan are up to something, and Yakhag’s the key to whatever it is. There’s something going on here that I don’t understand, and that always makes me jumpy.”

The gates of Osthos stood open and unguarded to suggest to the enemy that the city was deserted. Gelta and Yakhag rode triumphantly into the city and along the broad avenue that led to the palace with the two Kanthonese regiments drawn up in close order behind them.

“She didn’t leave any men to secure the gates,” Khalor said incredulously.

“Gelta’s a country girl, Sergeant,” Althalus replied lightly. “She hasn’t had much experience with cities. She
did
put her shoes on, though.”

“Very funny, Althalus,” Khalor said sardonically.

When the Queen of Night reached the palace, she barked out several commands, and her regiments surrounded the huge structure.

“We could call Gebhel in right now, you know,” Khalor suggested. “That’d put an end to all this nonsense before it went any further.”

“We’d spoil Andine’s whole day if we did that, and she’d go on about it for weeks.”

“Good point. She’s got a pretty voice, I suppose, but I hate it when she points it in my direction.”

When they reached the throne room, Andine was practicing her cringing for all she was worth.

“Isn’t she overdoing that just a bit?” Khalor quietly asked.

“Her audience isn’t going to be very sophisticated,” Althalus replied. “Now, Sergeant, listen rather carefully. Andine’s going to kneel down in front of Gelta, and that’s your signal to start the ball rolling. As soon as Andine’s knees touch the floor, I want Gebhel’s troops to move on the men surrounding the palace, and I’ll want the men you’ve got hidden here to overpower Gelta’s bodyguards. You’re going to be hearing some peculiar sounds, but don’t pay any attention to them.”

“Your wife’s already explained all this to me, Althalus,” Khalor said.

“She
did?
She didn’t tell
me
she was going to do that.”

“Maybe she was trying to surprise you. I know where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to do. Now why don’t you go on inside and let
me
take care of things out here?”

Althalus went on to the throne room, grumbling to himself.

It may have been pure coincidence, but it probably wasn’t, that the long-familiar wailing sound began to echo through the halls of Andine’s palace the moment Althalus entered the throne room, and no more than a moment later the Queen of Night appeared in the doorway with Argan and the dead-eyed Yakhag close behind her. “What wench is this who doth defile my seat?” Gelta demanded harshly.

“I . . . I am Andine, Arya of Osthos,” Andine replied in a quavering voice.

“Thou wert! But no more! Let the wench be bound in chains, and let this task fall to her own servants, so that they who loyally follow me be not defiled by touching this abomination!”

“Would you do the honors, Lord Trag?” Argan suggested to Althalus in a faintly amused voice.

“As you wish, Reverend Sir,” Althalus replied, bowing slightly.

Something wasn’t right here. Neither Argan nor Yakhag had been present during the original dream vision. He moved quickly to the throne, however. Andine was well rehearsed, but still . . .
Keep your mouth shut
and your eyes on the floor,
he silently advised.
Gelta’s trying to goad you into
some kind of flare-up.

I’ll kill her!
Andine shouted silently in reply.

Althalus had prudently concealed a set of chains identical to those Andine had worn in the original dream, and he quickly clapped them around the Arya’s wrists and ankles.
Don’t wiggle!
he sent his thought through the curtain of her rage.
The chains aren’t locked.
Then he took her roughly by the arm and dragged her from her throne.

“Thy service shall not go unrewarded, Lord Trag,” Gelta told him, striding toward the throne. “Advise all others herein that submission unto me is the path to life.”

“It shall be as thou dost command, O Queen of Night,” Althalus replied, bowing deeply.

The wailing rose to shake the very walls.

Then Gelta, Queen of Night, mounted the dais and sat upon the golden throne of Osthos with imperious demeanor and bleak satisfaction.

“And now shalt thou kneel and submit unto me, frail child,” ox-shouldered Gelta said, “and should thy submission please me, mayhap I shall spare thy life.”

Althalus once again seized Andine’s arm and dragged her up onto the dais.
You know what to do,
he sent to her.
Do it.

Andine dropped to her knees. “Do with me as thou wilt, mighty Queen,” she said in her best throbbing voice, “but I pray thee, spare my beloved city.”

Keep talking!
Althalus hissed.
Every word you speak is disrupting
Ghend’s original version of this.

“Be merciful, dread Queen!” Andine’s voice soared, covering another sound that had begun to intrude upon the wailing that always accompanied Ghend’s dream visions.

Althalus looked sharply at Eliar, who was standing with Bheid and Salkan among the cowering courtiers. The young man’s face was grim, and he had the Knife half drawn. Dweia had evidently been issuing instructions to the others, and it seemed that she’d neglected to include Althalus.

“On thy face!” stern Gelta commanded the kneeling Arya. “Grovel before me that I may know that thy submission is absolute!”

Then Althalus heard some muffled shouts coming from outside the palace, shouts concealed beneath the competing wail and the song of the Knife. Sergeant Gebhel, it appeared, was right on schedule.

Then Leitha’s voice sounded sharply inside his head.
Althalus!
she shouted.
They’re real! It’s
not
an illusion!

What isn’t?

That army outside the walls! It’s real! There are thousands of them, and
they’re marching on the gates!

Althalus began silently cursing his own inattention. Ghend had his own doors and his own doorkeeper. Yakhag was obviously involved in some way, but events were already moving too fast to worry about that now. Ghend’s dream vision was already in full swing.

And, weeping, Arya Andine lowered her face to the very stones of the floor as the wailing rose to a shriek.

And the heart of Gelta was full, and the taste of victory on her tongue was sweet, sweet.

And she placed her rough-booted foot upon the soft neck of groveling Andine in exultant triumph, declaring, “All that was yours is now mine, Andine, yea, verily, even thy life and all thy blood!”

And the triumphant cry of the Queen of Night echoed down the marble-clad palace of the fallen Arya of Osthos.

Khalor’s soldiers were supposed to be removing Gelta’s sentries at this point, but the black-armored Nekweros were still in place in every doorway of the throne room, and sounds coming from the corridors suggested that Khalor’s men were encountering some unexpected opposition.

What’s going on, Althalus?
Bheid’s silent voice was shrill.
Why are those
enemy soldiers still guarding the doorways?

It’s Yakhag!
Althalus sent his thought back sharply.
He’s slipped an
army into Osthos while we weren’t watching!

The song of the Knife faltered as the wail rose to a triumphant shriek.

“Tripped you up, didn’t I, old boy?” Argan said smugly to Althalus. “You should really pay closer attention, you know. You might be a match for Ghend, but you’re out of your class when you come up against me.” Then he turned to look at Bheid. “Well, Brother, we meet at last. Awfully good of you to put in an appearance. You’ve saved me all the time and trouble of hunting you down. It’s really a shame that we won’t have time for a nice chat, but I’m dreadfully busy right now.” Then he turned to his black-armored companion. “Yakhag,” he said in an offhand manner, “do be a good fellow and kill that priest for me, would you?”

Yakhag nodded expressionlessly and advanced on Bheid, his heavy sword at the ready.

Salkan, however, snatched Eliar’s sword from its sheath and jumped in front of his teacher. “You’ll have to get through me first!” the fiery young redhead shouted, awkwardly brandishing Eliar’s sword.

Yakhag shrugged expressionlessly, flicked his sword slightly to tap the sword the shepherd was waving off to one side, and then drove his sword completely through Salkan’s body.

Salkan doubled over sharply, and Eliar’s sword went skittering across the floor of Andine’s throne room.

“Get out of my way, Bheid!” Eliar shouted as both of them rushed after the sliding sword.

Bheid, however, had already snatched up the sword. Shoving Eliar aside, he rushed at Yakhag, who was struggling to free his sword from Salkan’s limp body.

Althalus saw immediately that Bheid had probably never held a sword before, since he was swinging it much as he would an ax, grasping the hilt in both hands and chopping at Yakhag’s helmet.

Bheid’s third stroke sent the visor of Yakhag’s helmet flying, and Yakhag raised his arms to cover his head.

“Stab, Bheid!” Eliar shouted. “Stab! Stab!”

Bheid awkwardly reversed his grip on the hilt of Eliar’s sword and drove the point against the black breastplate of Yakhag’s armor. The sword point penetrated only slightly, but Bheid wrenched the sword from side to side, grinding more than cutting as he worked the blade to enlarge the hole in the steel. Then, still holding the sword in place, he lunged, throwing his full weight against the hilt. Then he lunged again, and bright blood burst forth from Yakhag’s mouth.

Yakhag cried out and desperately grabbed the blade Bheid was methodically driving through his body.

Bheid’s face contorted with hate, and he lunged against the sword hilt yet again.

Yakhag screamed, and his hands fell away from the sword blade.

Bheid lunged one last time, and Althalus clearly heard the scrape of the sword point against the steel backplate of Yakhag’s armor.

For a very brief instant Althalus saw a faint hint of something that looked almost like gratitude touch Yakhag’s eyes, and then the blackarmored savage shuddered and collapsed beside Salkan’s inert body.

Bheid stared in horror at the man he had just killed and at the one who had died for him, and then he wept, sobbing like a broken-hearted child.

Once again, there was that peculiar flicker, and Khnom burst out of nowhere, grasped the stunned Argan by the arm, and dragged him through a doorway that had flames behind it.

And then the doorway vanished—and so did the black-armored Nekweros who had been guarding every door in the throne room.

“Get your foot off me, you stinking hag!” Andine’s soaring voice broke through the stunned silence that had fallen over the throne room, even as the wild wailing faltered and the song of the Knife soared.

Gelta’s eyes widened in astonishment, and her hand flashed toward her sword hilt.

“I wouldn’t,” Sergeant Khalor advised her. “There are ten arrows aimed directly at your heart, ma’am. If your sword comes out so much as an inch, you’re dead meat.”

Gelta froze.

“Get off my throne!” Andine commanded, rising to her feet and discarding her chains.

Gelta stared at her in open disbelief. “This can’t happen!” she exclaimed.

“It just did!” Andine told her. “Now move, or I’ll take an ax to you myself.”