Zandru's Forge (72 page)

The messenger bowed and assumed an oratory posture. “In the name of Rakhal Felix-Alar—”

“Yes, we know who sent you,” Carolin snarled. “Just say what you have come to say.”

The messenger swallowed, his cheeks blanching. “I am bid to say that unless you, Carolin, unlawful pretender to the throne of Hastur, surrender yourself and your armies to King Rakhal, he will return your paxman to you, one piece at a time. You have until dawn to give your answer.”

His final words faded away into shocked silence. With another bow, this one considerably less assured than the first, the messenger withdrew.

Ruyven, looking even paler than usual, turned to Carolin. “You aren’t seriously—you cannot consider—” “

It took all Carolin’s strength to walk calmly to the camp chair and lower himself into it. In truth, for a single heartbeat, he had believed the only way to save Orain’s life was to do as Rakhal insisted. His own death would be quick enough, for Rakhal could not risk another claimant to the throne.

Then the enormity of Rakhal’s demand, the monstrous truth of what and who he was, swept over Carolin. If Rakhal would do this to Orain—or more likely, order Lyondri to do it—Orain who had been as a brother to them both from the time they were children, Orain who had served Lyondri faithfully for so long—
Then in the name of all the gods,
Carolin thought,
what will he do to my people?

They all turned to stare at him. Carolin found his voice. “No,” he said. “No matter what happens, I will not betray everything we have fought so hard for.”

Maura said gently, “Orain would not have it otherwise. He would let himself be cut into little pieces to save you, to save the kingdom.”

Rakhal knows that,
Carolin thought.
He knows that I would give my own life for Orain. But it is not mine to give.

“We all love Orain,” Maura went on. “If there were a way to save him, any one of us would offer ourselves. That is not what Rakhal wants. I know how he thinks, although to my shame, I once tried to justify his actions. He wants above all to win, and he does not care how. He knows you love Orain, and he thinks that he can use that love to bend you to his will. But he does not know you. He sees you only as a fool who trusted too much. He cannot imagine that you are bound by something higher than your own personal feelings.”

Carolin straightened his shoulders. Grief lapped at him, the pain of the loss to come and the knowledge that he was powerless to prevent the torture which Lyondri’s butchers would surely inflict upon Orain, piece by piece, day by day,

“We will continue attempts at negotiation,” he said. “Perhaps Rakhal may hold off while he believes we are giving in. Something we cannot foresee may yet turn up. Meanwhile, we will begin preparations to take the city by force.”

Late in the day, Jandria came to Carolin’s tent. He welcomed her and bade her sit beside him. In the lamplight, she looked haggard, with little remaining of her old prettiness, but she held herself with quiet competence. Whatever she had been, she was now a pledged Swordswoman, and sister to every other woman who wore the gold earring and red vest.

“We have made laran contact with Romilly,” she said, brightening. “Maura and the others have been trying to reach her ever since she disappeared after the last battle. We thought she must be hiding, not wanting to be found, for Ruyven would surely have known if she were dead.”

“She is alive, then.” The knot of pain in Carolin’s heart eased ever so slightly.

“Yes, although she has been living in the wilds like an animal. You were right, the battle was too much for her. Her mind was linked to the stallion’s when he died. You know the bond she had with all the animals she trained.”

Carolin nodded.
Too much pain, too much loss, felt so deeply, without any defense ...

He wondered if any of them were ever truly prepared for the horrors of war, the brutalities of men like Rakhal and Lyondri, the betrayal of kinsmen.

Jandria had paused and was gazing at him with a mixture of compassion and reserve. “Romilly will come as quickly as she can, although the Dark Lady alone knows when that might be. She, too, loves Orain and will not leave him in Lyondri’s clutches if there is any way she can help.”

Romilly galloped into the army encampment two days later, riding a rangy, ill-bred roan gelding without any saddle or bridle. Carolin felt her presence even as she passed the outlying guards. Jandria rushed out to meet her, along with Alderic and Ruyven.

She looked weary, wearing a filthy, torn tunic and breeches, her hair matted and wild. Claw marks, still bloody, crossed her cheek and one earlobe was torn through. But her eyes were steady as she put off their questions.

“Later,” she insisted. “What is this about Orain being held hostage by Lyondri? Tell me!”

Carolin held out his hands to her. His heart rose in his throat and spoke with its own voice.

“Child—” he began, and she came into his arms as if she were indeed his dear child. He hugged her hard, feeling the wiry strength of her body. Into the tangle of her hair, he murmured, “I thought I had lost you, too. You and Orain, who both followed me, not as a king, but as a fugitive.”

He drew her into the tent, where they all gathered around, the people who had searched for her, Maura and Alderic, Ruyven and Jandria. Jandria insisted that Romilly take some cold meat and bread. Romilly ate as if she had not tasted food since the great battle. She would not speak of her flight or how she had survived in the wilderness, not even when Jandria, washing the cuts on her cheek, questioned her. Her thoughts were only for Orain, as Carolin knew they would be.

When he drew out the package with Orain’s finger, she struggled visibly to keep from retching; her horror and outrage washed over him, echoing his own.

“Yesterday, it was an ear.” Carolin’s voice wavered, and he feared that if he went on, he would weep aloud.

Jandria said grimly, “I swear, I shall not sleep until Lyondri has been flayed alive!”

“Do not swear so,” Maura said, “for we have all suffered enough at his hands.”

“You come when we have almost lost hope,” Carolin said. “We are on the brink of storming the city, knowing that our action will bring Orain a swift, clean death.”

For the last two days, his men and leronyn had struggled to find a way into the city, but Rakhal had set sentry birds and savage dogs around the gates, which raised the alarm when a scout tried to sneak in. With their laran, they tried to follow the common soldier who brought the next bloody token, but Rakhal’s own sorcerers had set a psychic shield around the city. In the end, they had no choice but to proceed with a direct assault. In preparation, Carolin sent a promise of amnesty for every man in the city who did not raise a hand against him. The Tower had already declared itself neutral as a result of Varzil’s intervention; it would make no weapons and supply no
leronyn
for either side. Rakhal was cut off from any hope of reinforcement.

“We will take the city at dawn,” Carolin finished.

Romilly listened thoughtfully, especially to his description of the animal sentries. “My
laran
is of little use against men,” she reminded him, “and I have no power against Rakhal’s psychic defenses. But I have no fear of any dog or bird, or any natural creature. Let me go into the city before dawn and search for Orain in my own way. If I can find him, and bring him out safely, then you can attack freely.”

No, I cannot risk her, not when she is newly found!
Then Carolin remembered that she was a Swordswoman, even as Jandria was. She had proven her courage and resourcefulness, in the wild lands, on the trail, in battle. She had no empty pride; if she said she could do a thing, whether it was nursing an ailing sentry bird or training a warhorse, it was done.

“You may try,” he agreed. “At the least, we will have an idea where to strike first, so that they will put him to a swift death. Rest now, and wait until full dark,”

She went off with Jandria to the tent of the Swordswomen. Carolin paced for a while, until it felt he must collapse under the weight of so many deaths, so many decisions.

He went out into the camp, as he had so many times before, under the wan light of a single moon. Men, gathered around their cook fires, lifted their faces as he passed. He paused here and there to speak to them. Gradually, the awful burden lightened, or perhaps it was the sense, gathered one moment at a time, that he did not carry it alone.

Romilly had left the camp by now, gliding like a shadow into the city, and by her own choice. Maura, too, had chosen, as had all who rode with him.

He himself had also chosen. He could as easily have stayed in the wild lands beyond the Kadarin, eking out a fugitive living. He might have sought asylum with his Aldaran kin in the far Hellers.

Memory swept him, the figure of light which had taken his hands and heard the vow spoken only in the silence of his heart.

He thought of Varzil, at Hestral Tower many leagues away, and how he had brought the siege to an end, not by force of arms or
laran
weaponry, but by the simple power of
right.

There are two kinds of power in the world,
he had said,
that of the Tower and that of the crown.
But each of them rested upon the free choice of those who served.

He would honor that pledge, keeping faith with his people and his dearest friends, his sworn brothers and his beloved, but most importantly, with himself.

Carolin slept fitfully, weaving in and out of broken dreams. He seemed to be moving through a preternaturally quiet city. Shadows, dense and quiet, clung to its streets like funeral draperies. From the edges of his vision, he caught furtive shapes and lights quickly covered. The scent and taste of fear hung like a black mist in the air.

Peace, peace ... silence
... Romilly’s thoughts spread across the walls where the sentry birds sat like great misshapen statues. He felt their vigilance soften under her mental touch.

Peace
...
silence
...

Somewhere beyond the wall, a dog snarled at a rat, then subsided. Horses drowsed in their stables, mice within their nests. Cats curled up on their hearths. Fretful babies quieted.

Silence, silence
...
peace
...

The contact vanished and he jerked awake. Romilly must have passed beyond the
laran
barrier. He wondered if Rakhal had thought to watch the rest of the city as well, or if his leronyn were already stretched too thin, guarding the gates.

Before Romilly left, he had offered her any reward in his power to give, even marriage to one of his own sons, if she could free Orain or, failing that, put a swift end to his suffering. She had looked at him strangely.

“I do this for Orain’s sake and not for any reward,” she had said, “because he was kind to me beyond all duty when he knew me only as a runaway hawkmaster’s apprentice.”

Now he had lost all trace of her. She was in the hands of the gods. He must try to find what rest he could before dawn, for he would soon need all his strength.

At last, he could remain still no longer. He summoned water to wash his hands and face, ate a cold breakfast, and prepared himself. Outside the tent, a faint milky tinge lightened the eastern sky.

Where was Romilly? Why had she not returned? Had something gone amiss and was she, too, now in Lyondri’s hands? What if she needed more time to find Orain? What if the attack raised the alarm and resulted in her death as well as Orain’s? Should he not wait a little longer?

His officers were already moving about, giving orders in hushed, tense voices; foot soldiers and horsemen alike finished a hasty meal, doused their fires, and took up their weapons. Along the picket lines, men saddled horses. Expectancy roiled through the camp.

Carolin met briefly with his advisers and officers, giving last minute encouragement. One of his aides went to bring the horse he would ride. It was not as fine and brave as Sunstar, but he doubted he would ever see the equal of the black stallion.

Maura, who had spent this night apart with the other
leronyn,
preparing for their role in the morning’s battle, came to him. “All may yet be well. There is still no stirring in the city, not even the sentry birds, which should be waking at this hour. I suspect that is Romilly’s doing. Will you not hold off for a little time and wait for her return?”

She had spoken the thought which was in his own mind, the temptation to cling to hope, to delay irrevocable action. If he did as his heart urged him, however, he might never recover the momentum of this morning.

He kissed her brow. “All is in readiness. If we are to take the city and end Orain’s suffering, it must be now. Romilly understood this. We will attack as planned.”