Voice Of The Demon (Book 2) (34 page)

‘Can’t help me,’ Selar slurred, his eyes unable to focus. ‘You jus’ a sorcerer. No magic in the world can cure this.’

Nash reached out and put his hand on Selar’s shoulder. ‘Not magic, Sire. You’re troubled. I’m here to ease your pain.’

Selar raised his eyebrows like an uncomprehending child. ‘But this pain’s too old. S’pposed to be gone by now, but he keeps coming back, you know? It’s his curse on me. Again and again. Now he comes even when I drink myself to sleep. Why does he keep coming back when I don’t want him to? Why won’t he come back when I want him to?’

This was not making any sense. ‘Who, Sire?’

‘My friend.’ Selar murmured and lurched away. He headed for a chair but missed, collapsing to his knees. Nash was instantly at his side, but Selar was almost oblivious to his presence.

‘My friend. Never came back. Never betrayed me but never came back. That’s a worse betrayal – leaving me alone
when I needed him. His honour . . . won’t allow . . . You know he saved my life? I killed his father ’n he saves my life. Must’ve hated me but never betrayed me . . . never stood . . . but now he’s stood by and let me ruin everything . . . S’all gone wrong. Everything. And now I can’t even forget when I sleep. He haunts me.’

‘Dunlorn?’

‘No.’ Selar shook his head vigorously, totally caught up in his story. ‘Carlan. Evil. Wants to suck my soul from my body. There’ll be nothing left. Nothing left of me. Nothing of my realm. Nothing to leave my son . . . Don’ even have a son any more.’

Nash sat back on his haunches. Selar had no idea what he was saying, but the meaning was very clear. Ever since the first word of Kilphedir had reached them, Selar had been plagued by nightmares of Carlan. The rumour of sorcery was all it took. And yet, even after all this time, the image of Dunlorn was still a shining hope for Selar. Things had been good while he was around and now that he was not, everything had gone wrong. If Nash didn’t do something soon, Selar would probably go to Dunlorn himself and beg on his damned knees for the renegade Duke’s forgiveness!

But even Bonding Selar now would not bring him back to his former strength. There would be no bite in this lion without a son to inherit all he had worked for – all he hoped to achieve. And where would Nash be if both son and friend returned to stand beside the King?

‘Sire,’ Nash murmured softly, dropping his voice, ‘I can help you. I can take away the nightmare so you can sleep soundly every night. All you have to do is trust me.’ Trust me to Bond you to me with a tiny cord that you will never be able to sever. Put your trust in me and you will never be alone, never want another friend but me. ‘Trust me, Sire.’

Selar stared at him with red-glazed eyes. His mouth hung open, lacking volition. Slowly he shook his head. ‘Don’t trust you. You’re the same as he was. Carlan. Sorcerer.’

‘Carlan was evil, Sire. I am not. I have never raised my hand to strike you as he did. You know I could have, many times. But I am here only to help you. I can take away the
nightmare so you never remember it. You’ll never even remember Carlan. You’ll no longer be afraid of me. We’ll work together as we once did, side by side. You will no longer be alone, my King.’ This will be the first touch, the first level. Later, when you’re ready, we’ll make the final Bond. Then you will obey my every word. ‘Come, Sire.’

Sweetly soothing, Nash helped Selar to his feet and guided him around the broken furniture and glass to the bed, helped him to lie down. ‘All you have to do is trust me. Do you trust me?’ Nash kept talking as he drew his dagger from his boot.

Selar still watched him, less drunk now than before, as though he knew what was about to happen. ‘No choice, do I?’

‘Just say you trust me, Sire, and everything will be well.’ Nash laid out Selar’s wrist bare to his blade. He could not make the cut until Selar consented. How many times had Nash done this? So why now was his heart racing with anticipation? ‘Sire?’

Like condemning his soul to hell, Selar closed his eyes and nodded. ‘Do it.’

Nash sliced the blade across Selar’s wrist and instantly blood sprang from the wound. Selar flinched. Before a drop could hit the bed, Nash brought his garnet ring to the wetness and touched a drop of blood on the stone. It bubbled, hissed, then was drawn down into the red heart until all that was left was the shining cut stone. Selar opened his mouth to scream – then passed out.

Quickly now, Nash tore off a strip of sheet and bound up the wound. It would be healed by morning, leaving no scar, no sign at all. And no reminder to Selar of what he’d consented to.

Nash wiped the blade clean and slid it back into his boot. Selar was asleep now, properly. He would sleep for twelve hours at least. When he awoke, he would remember nothing of Carlan, nothing of that moment by the river. His memories of Dunlorn would change, too. Selar might never realize it, but his life had just changed for ever. Permanently.

‘You fool,’ Nash murmured. ‘All this time you’ve had the
same dream. Over and over you’ve taunted yourself for having been a fool to believe in me. And now you’ll never know the truth, will you? I didn’t push you into the river. You slipped and I tried to stop you falling. I would never have let anything happen to you. If you hadn’t been so afraid back then, we would have done this fourteen years ago. As it is, your pretty Queen has done me a great favour and, I suppose, in return I must do one for you.’

Nash unfolded his legs and stood up. He went to the door and stuck his head out. Forb’ez was there, along with Lisson. By the looks on their faces, neither had heard a word of his discussion with Selar.

‘You can go in now, Forb’ez, and clean up. The King will sleep until the afternoon. Then I believe he’ll be up and refreshed. When he’s ready, you can tell him I’ve gone to do his errand. He knows all about it. I’ll send word to him when I have news.’

Forb’ez jerked a nod. ‘Yes, Alderman.’

Nash drew Lisson away towards his tent. When they were inside, Nash dropped into the first chair to hand. A first level Bonding always drained him. No matter how he practised and perfected this corruption of the sacred ritual, the cost was always the same: bone-draining exhaustion. He could afford a few hours’ sleep now, but he’d have to be up and away before dawn. He toyed with the pen still lying where he’d left it on the table. Of all the things he’d had to do in his long and eventful life, this was, without doubt, the most distasteful. But he didn’t have any choice. He had to get Kenrick back and Pascoe alone would be no use at all.

‘Lisson, in the morning, I’ll be meeting with Pascoe. It’ll take some time to round up all the raiders and get them organized, find out if they’ve heard or seen anything. In the meantime, I want you to saddle up your horse and go to the Baron DeMassey.’

‘Master?’ Lisson moved forward, not understanding.

‘You know where he is?’

‘Yes, master.’

‘I want you to tell him to meet me at Bairdenscoth in a
week.’ Nash paused, the unspoken words already bitter in his mouth. ‘Tell him I . . . need his help.’

Rosalind sat in a corner and watched. Although all these preparations were being made on her behalf, it was hard to feel a part of the organization, much less to feel she was actually one of these conspirators.

The long table was covered in papers and maps, a few books and the odd cup of wine. Along its sides were ranged a group of the most fearless soldiers she could ever hope to meet. Sir Alexander Deverin of Ankar, whose father and grandfather had served the Douglas House and whose two sons would one day follow him. Owen Fitzallen, who ruled Dunlorn when its lord was away and who had suffered near-mortal wounds in an effort to save the last Earl’s life in the Battle of Seluth. Then there was Alard Bain, young, inexperienced, but with a tough streak in him. Such courage could be seen again in the forms of Shane Adair and the brusque sergeant, Keagan. Although they would return to Elita tonight, their council was still welcomed and they gave their opinions honestly.

Kandar too was there. No longer caught up in mistrust and travel-worn fear, George had allowed himself to be charmed by these companions – and had learned to listen.

Brightest of all these young fires was the flame-haired Micah Maclean, whose father had brought them to this haven. Micah showed his worth in the questions he asked, in his gentle suggestions. More than once, he made the others laugh with his deprecating wit and seemingly simple queries.

Ruling over them all, however, was the towering figure of Robert Douglas, with his commanding voice, his eye for detail and his relentless pursuit of the perfect strategy. There was a challenge there, in his eyes, in the way he looked at
each of them individually. Without the others ever realizing it, Robert reached out and drew them all together into a cohesive unit. This was Robert at his best. This was when he was at his most formidable.

It was such a familiar sight, a memory of years gone by when Robert had lived at court. This same fire she saw now, raked up by his unceasing pressure to make the others think clearly, was something she’d once seen almost every day.

And how Selar had loved him.

The whole court had felt the effects of Robert’s leaving, some more than others. The Guilde had almost openly celebrated. Stunned, the Church had argued vehemently for Robert’s pardon. Almost breathless, the court, the city, the entire country watched as one so mighty, in the end, fell. What had surprised them all, without exception, was the speed with which it had happened.

In Selar there had been no change at all. On the surface, he appeared determined to prove that he hadn’t needed Robert, hadn’t desired the friendship, and didn’t feel the void that remained.

Of course, everybody had assumed that once Robert had left Marsay, there would be a few months – a year at most – when he and Selar would speak little. But as the weeks went by and news of sweet Berenice’s death reached court, fears began to grow deeper. When at last it was confirmed that Robert had left Lusara, intending never to return, it was as if a great silence had descended upon them all.

It was odd that one man could so heavily influence so many. For the people, it had been as if the last breath of hope had left Lusara, blown by the same wind that had filled the sails of Robert’s ship, like the last glow of sunset before the whole black of night.

But even night had its own right and proper ending – with a dawn. Was this meeting, secret and unobtrusive, held high within a castle avoided by those who still held power; was this a new dawn for Lusara? Was this one man, upon whose shoulders rested the hope of a nation, ready to take up the fight against a rule which openly defied the laws of the gods
and a King who callously and wantonly desired the destruction of the very thing he had vowed to protect?

Would Robert now put aside his vow and make a stand against Selar?

‘Not everything is as it seems.’

Rosalind started at the quiet voice beside her. Jennifer had slipped into the room and perched on a stool close by. She wore the gown Lady Margaret had given her, soft-spun wool of a dark, luminous blue. With her dark hair brushed and plaited over one shoulder, Jennifer leaned back against the wall, calm and relaxed. Her fingers were laced together and her face the picture of patience.

‘You speak as though you know my thoughts,’ Rosalind began in a whisper, unwilling to disturb the plans being discussed around the table.

‘I, too, have been watching. It would be impossible not to wonder if your sudden appearance here might herald a change of fortune for Lusara. You are, after all, Lusaran born, of one of the finest Houses in the country. After so many years of acting as a bridge of peace, your actions will, in some eyes, signal only the opposite – should there be one prepared to take the cause up as his own.’

‘You appear doubtful. Do you know him so well?’

‘I don’t know him at all,’ Jenn said evenly.

‘But the longer he leaves it, the more the people see his inaction as an endorsement of Selar. If Robert doesn’t move soon, he may well lose the support that is his by right.’

‘Why do you assume he will act?’

Something in the girl’s tone made Rosalind turn and look at her anew. Her face, young and yet so serious, gave nothing away. ‘If nothing else, Robert is a man of honour. He loves Lusara with a passion that brought him to the edge of mortal danger. His House has always been closely allied with the crown; at almost every important battle in the last five hundred years, a Douglas has fought alongside the King. His own father was killed defending Lusara against Selar. His oath aside, there should be no reason why Robert would not stand now and remove a usurper who stains our country so
deeply.’ Rosalind tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it was hard. Seeing Robert again only made it harder.

‘But you can’t just put Robert’s oath aside, Your Grace,’ Jennifer replied, her voice almost inaudible. ‘If he is, as you say, a man of honour, then that same honour bids he keep that oath. He cannot remain the man he is – the man who would rescue Lusara – and break that vow.’

‘But if he had enough reason – if I told him about Selar’s plans for war against Mayenne, surely then, Robert would do something. If it is only his oath which keeps him from acting – then men have broken oaths before. The oath Selar made to this country on taking the crown makes Robert’s oath void. If—’

‘The breach of one does not assure the negation of the other. Whether Selar intends to destroy Lusara or not remains to be seen, but Robert won’t break his oath of allegiance. Since he can’t in conscience stand beside Selar, he has instead determined not to stand against him.’ Jennifer paused. ‘There are some things in life that remain absolute. This, I’m afraid, is one of them.’

‘Then,’ Rosalind scrambled for some hope, ‘you agree? You think Robert should do something?’

‘I’d never dream of telling him what to do, Your Grace.’

‘But what do you think? Please’ – Rosalind reached out and took her hand. The flesh was cold, even though the room was warmed by a roaring fire – ‘I cannot leave Lusara knowing there is only doom in my wake.’