The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (84 page)

Corvalos Chane walked alone through the halls of the forum, certain he would find his king inside. As it was on most days, the forum was deserted, and the animals that were sometimes kept in its many cages had been moved off to other places throughout the city. Chane’s boots scraped quietly across the pebbled surface, not wanting to disturb his lord and master. Since returning to the city from Gilorin Court, Raxor had spent most of his time alone. Chane had barely seen his beloved king in the past week. Still in mourning over the death of his son and shaken by the defeat at the Kryss, Raxor had retreated into a private little hole, and without Mirage around to coax him out of it, the old man had become even more remote. Chane mourned, too. Not for Prince Roland, because he never really liked the red-headed loud-mouth. Rather, Chane mourned for Raxor, because the king he had known for so many years was really already dead. Between the two of them, all they could hope for now was vengeance.

And that was why Corvalos Chane had come.

When he reached the end of the hall, Chane stopped behind a pillar, peering around the stone edifice toward the arena. There, in the centre of the vast oval, he spotted King Raxor, standing in the centre of the arena with his two enormous pets. The bears were on their hind legs, prancing around Raxor as the king urged them on with treats. At their full height, the bears were a good deal taller than the big king, yet Raxor wasn’t at all afraid of them. He had raised them from cubs and knew they’d never hurt him. Chane smiled, noting the pleasure on the old man’s face. It was good to see him happy, if only briefly. Chane’s grin sharpened, for he was sure his plan would please Raxor even more.

Chane did not want to disturb his master, but his news couldn’t wait, and so he stepped softly onto the ground of the arena, making sure that Raxor saw him. The king looked surprised but waved him forward. The bears continued dancing as Chane approached, barely noticing him until Raxor ordered them down. They sniffed at Chane, knowing him
immediately, and watched him with their beady black eyes. Varsha, the female of the twins, pawed up to Chane and nudged his hand with her nose in greeting. Chane took the beast’s jaw and gave it a gentle squeeze. He had always liked the bear siblings, and they had always amazed him. Their loyalty to Raxor rivaled his own.

King Raxor knew immediately that Chane had come for a reason. He looked at his spy expectedly. Chane stopped playing with the bear and greeted his king with a bow.

‘My lord, may I speak?’ he asked.

‘Tell me,’ said Raxor at once.

‘I have news, my lord. From Koth.’

Raxor perked up. ‘Indeed?’

‘Baron Glass is going to the old estate at Richter. He plans to leave in two more days. He’s making ready for the trip, my lord. And he’s taking Jazana Carr with him.’

Raxor was old but his mind was as sharp as ever. He seized on Chane’s meaning at once. ‘Interesting,’ he mused. His hand rose to his mouth, rubbing his lower lip. ‘How many are going with him?’

‘Not many,’ said Chane. ‘That’s the key, my lord. Baron Glass is having trouble with Jazana Carr, more so since Mirage went to him.’

‘Jealousy?’

‘So it seems. Glass means to make amends with her,’ said Chane. Not all the details were in place, but he told his master what he knew. ‘This comes from Jaron, my lord. From inside Lionkeep.’

‘Then this is reliable? You’re sure?’

‘I think so, yes,’ Chane answered. Raxor had spies everywhere, and Chane had his own connections. Of all of them, Jaron was among the best. He had posed as a mercenary to gain access to Jazana Carr. Later he had managed to work his way into Lionkeep itself, working as an outside guard. Jaron had a gift for small things, an uncanny ability to put puzzles together out of the barest scraps. ‘He sent the news as quickly as he could,’ Chane continued. ‘But it’s five days old, at least. Jaron says that Glass is planning on traveling with only a small contingent. He wants to be alone with his queen, no doubt.’

Raxor laughed with satisfaction. ‘Mirage has had the same effect on him, no doubt! Jazana Carr is wise to be worried.’ He looked at Chane. ‘What of her? Anything?’

‘Of Mirage? The same, my lord. She is well, that’s all I can tell. She spends time with Glass. A great deal of time from what I’m told.’

A shadow of envy crossed Raxor’s face. ‘Baron Glass has everything a man could want, then,’ he grumbled. ‘He has taken my son and my woman both. He loves Mirage. I always knew it.’

Chane avoided looking straight at his king. He had not confessed his
drunken advance on Mirage, that moment of weakness in Koth. The guilt of it gnawed at him. He said, ‘Mirage is well, my lord. You should not worry about her. And this news is worth acting on.’

‘Agreed.’ Raxor sidled closer to Broud, the huge black male of the bears, and dug his fingers deeply into his thick fur. The bear responded with a grunt of pleasure. ‘I have been to Richter,’ said Raxor, ‘years ago. That was when King Akeela was alive, when there was peace.’ He thought for a moment, summoning the memory. ‘It’s very small. Not many staff. There are mountains around it, and I remember a lake. It’s very high up. Secluded.’

‘My lord, I’ve already sent some people there,’ said Chane. ‘Horatin and Kaprile of the Red Watch. A few others. They’re already making plans, watching the layout. I had some ideas for them to take with them.’

‘What ideas?’

‘As you said, it’s a small estate, my lord. And Glass isn’t taking many men with him.’

‘He doesn’t need many men. He has the armour, remember.’

‘Aye,’ said Chane, ‘I remember. But nothing is indestructible, my lord, and he can’t wear the armour forever. Not to bed, certainly.’

Raxor looked intrigued. ‘You mean to assassinate him.’

‘Yes,’ said Chane. Assassination was a specialty of the Red Watch. Chane had trained them himself. ‘Six or seven of us should be able to get it done.’

‘If Glass sees you, he’ll kill you,’ said Raxor.

‘He won’t see us, my lord. I don’t intend to climb though his window.’

‘What then?’

‘I plan to burn him,’ Chane replied. ‘I’ve thought about this, my lord. If the doors were barricaded, no one would be able to escape. And if someone did manage to get out alive . . .’ Chane shrugged.

‘You mean to murder them all?’

‘Baron Glass and Jazana Carr at least,’ said Chane coolly.

King Raxor turned away, considering the plan. Chane stood very still, giving his master time to think. It would not be as easy as he’d hinted, but he desperately wanted Raxor’s blessing.

‘A chance like this won’t come along again soon,’ he said. ‘Consider, my lord – both Glass and the Diamond Queen in the same small space. Not even the armour can protect Glass against an inferno. And if it does, we’ll be there to finish him – all of us.’

‘Even you won’t be enough to stop Baron Glass, Corvalos. If you had seen him at the Kryss you would know what I mean. He’s not just a man anymore. It’s like Mirage said – he is possessed of a devil. And devils live in flames.’

‘Then at least we will kill his queen,’ Chane countered. ‘My lord, there
isn’t much time. I have to get to Richter quickly and join the others. There are things I’ll need to arrange. Baron Glass will have the jump on me either way.’

‘I hear you, Corvalos, I do. But there are risks.’

‘To myself and the others alone,’ said Chane. He brought his lanky body closer to the king. ‘Please, my lord, let me do this for you. Let me kill the man who killed your son.’

The bears had stopped ambling around. As if sensing the seriousness of the conversation, they looked up earnestly at Raxor. The king remained silent, his eyes glazing over.

‘I’m not mad,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve heard others talking, Chane, the things they’ve said about me. But I’m not mad. I’m simply . . . troubled.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Chane gently. ‘I know.’

The old man turned his eyes on Chane, full of love. ‘Baron Glass must not know it is us. Do nothing to betray Reec. Dress as mercenaries. Make him believe it is Norvans, even. That upstart Elgan perhaps. But nothing must lead him back to us. We cannot have him march against us. Not yet. Not when we are so weak.’

‘Of course, my lord.’

Raxor reached out and gripped Chane’s shoulder. ‘You have been so good to me for so many years. Let this be your last mission, Corvalos.’

‘My lord?’

‘We are old, my friend,’ said Raxor with a grin. ‘No one has served me better or longer than you have. You have given up everything for me. Even your birthright as a man.’

‘I have not minded, my lord.’

‘Haven’t you? I have eyes, Corvalos. I saw the way you looked at Mirage, how you craved her. No, do not be embarrassed! She was a splendid woman.’

The revelation stung Chane. He dropped his head and sank to his knees. ‘My lord, I’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘In my heart I lusted for her. Forgive me.’

‘There is nothing to forgive, my friend,’ said Raxor, looking down. ‘You’re not a eunuch, after all. No man can expect to be without hungers if he is truly a man.’

‘But she was your woman, my lord . . .’

‘And you brought her to me and made me happy. Rise.’

Chane got to his feet but could not bring himself to look at his king. In his heart, he had betrayed Raxor. He had even tried to bed Mirage. Would his king be so forgiving if he knew that too?

‘Let me show you my devotion, my lord,’ he begged. ‘Let me kill Baron Glass and his bitch queen. Say the word, please . . .’

‘You have your leave, Corvalos. Do it and be well. And when you are done and Baron Glass is dead, your service to me will be over.’

‘My lord,no . . .’

‘It’s time for you to live your life, Corvalos,’ said Raxor easily. ‘While you are young enough to enjoy a woman, you must find yourself one. Have children. Know that joy before you die. That is how you can serve me best.’

The offer overwhelmed Chane. Since he could remember, he had been in Raxor’s service, first as a soldier, then as a bodyguard. He had devoted his whole life to the king and had never regretted it until he’d been alone with Mirage – when his own stupid drunkenness had made him forget his vow.

‘My lord, I promise you – Baron Glass will not return from Richter. Let him call his demon. Let him summon all the devils of hell. They will not save him from me.’

In the waning sun of twilight, a tiny mass of two-hundred men wound their way through the dunes of the desert, watching the eastern horizon for their unseen enemies. They had ridden for most of the day, leaving behind loved ones in the Skein and the meagre homes they had made for themselves among the brush and blowing sands. Mounted on drowas, the men had dressed for battle, bearing scimitars at their sides and carrying the long lances they would use for the charge. Around their faces they wore dark wraps. Black gakas draped their bodies. They had no long bows for distant combat, but some brought smaller, nimble bows with them, the kind that could be fired quickly from the back of a galloping drowa. The mass moved with purpose across the soft earth of the desert, determined to meet their foes by sun fall, sure to a man that they would not see the morning.

Prince Aztar rode at the front of the force, sitting tall despite his pain and weariness, proud of the men he was leading to their deaths. They were Voruni, the hard and powerful nomads of the desert, and because he was their master they would follow him to hell. Without complaint, they had followed Aztar throughout the day, kissing their wives and children farewell and mounting their drowas to confront Baralosus’ army. Scouts returning from the desert had told Aztar that the Ganjeese were no more than a day’s ride from the Skein, riding slowly but undaunted toward Aztar’s humble camp. And Aztar, determined to keep the bloodshed as far as possible from the children, had ordered his men to make ready to ride. It was, he determined, as good a time as any to die, and he was not afraid. He had prayed mightily for guidance and Vala had given it to him. This time, he was sure he was on the right side.

The plea he had sent to the other tribes had gone mostly unheeded, but in the last day before the march some fifty men had come to join him, bringing their own drowa and weapons with them. They had come from each of the five Voruni tribes peppered throughout the area, mostly lawless men who had no standing in their own tribes and who, like so
many others, respected Aztar’s stance. They knew that this would be the prince’s last stand, and somehow that moved them. Knowing they would die, they could think of no better place to perish than at the side of a legend.