Kerrion returned to his desert city in a glorious fashion. Thousands lined the way to his palace, cheering and tossing precious flowers in his path. He wondered at the hero's welcome bestowed upon a prince who had been the Jashimari Queen's prisoner and released at her behest. There was nothing heroic about his ignominious return to the desert, dressed in Jashimari clothes and riding a steed the Queen had provided. Upon reaching the Cotti camp, he had almost been shot before he was recognised. The well hidden, pitying looks of his senior officers had annoyed him greatly. In their eyes, at least, his captivity had reduced his stature.
Once dressed in Cotti clothes again, he was joyously reunited with his familiar, Kiara, who had been caged during his absence to prevent her from following him and being killed. Fortunately the officer who had discovered his abduction had had the foresight to cage the bird before she had woken on that fateful morning. With her perched upon his shoulder once more, he had compounded his unpopularity in the eyes of his men by announcing that he wished to have a Jashimari slave, and ordered that all the slaves in the camp be brought for his inspection. Twenty dull-eyed boys and fifteen frightened girls were brought before him. Kerrion ordered that they be taken to the mountain pass and released, which evoked angry muttering from some of his bolder officers. He informed them that slavery was banned under his rule, and any slaves found would be released and their owners punished. A few officers voiced protests to this, but his glare silenced them.
Three days later, he had set off on the two tenday journey to the city, where he would face his brothers and the ordeal of his coronation. The pale metropolis shimmered in the heat, its buildings built primarily from white stone or whitewashed to reflect the fierce sun. Tall palms shaded the wide, paved roads, and patches of verdure grew next to mansions and temples. Awnings protruded from shops to cool their bland interiors and invite the heat stricken to enter their tempting shade. The throngs of sun-bronzed Cotti that lined the way to wave and cheer their prince provided thirsty patrons for roadside inns and tea houses after he passed.
Kerrion still wore the silver circlet of a prince as he reined in his horse before the sweeping marble steps that led to the pillared archways of his father's great palace. The tall, gilded domes glowed in the sun atop pale walls built by master crafters in a previous age. He dismounted before the roaring crowds that cordons of soldiers held at bay, and turned once to wave before mounting the steps, his officers flanking him. The noise was left behind as he entered the cool, bare halls of the palace, a building that had outgrown its furnishings and whose grandeur was marked by an echoing emptiness, apart from a few cosy rooms. The scarcity of wood made it impossible to fill the many chambers with anything other than stone statues and a few paintings.
Liveried servants bowed and took his dusty white cloak, brushing sand from his tunic with its silver sun emblem, while others ushered him towards his private apartments. He did not expect to reach them unmolested, and was not surprised when Lerton appeared to confront him with a supercilious sneer. His younger brother, resplendent in foppish finery of pale yellow linen with gold trappings, bowed mockingly.
"Welcome home, Sire," he jeered.
Kerrion frowned, his fatigue making him curt. "I am not in the mood for your antics, Lerton. I am tired and I want a bath. Get out of my way."
Lerton hopped aside. "Whatever you say, Sire, your word is my command."
Kerrion stalked past, annoyed by his derision. Kiara spread her wings to keep her balance on his shoulder.
Lerton fell into step beside him. "Did you enjoy the hospitality of the Jashimari Queen?"
"I was a prisoner."
Lerton laughed. "Aye, taken prisoner by a woman!"
Kerrion stopped and swung to face his brother, causing Kiara's claws to dig into his shoulder. Lerton eyed him, and the various retainers stepped back. Because they had different mothers, Lerton was a mere two moons younger than Kerrion. He took after his father, a broad bear of a man, despite being the kin of snakes. His familiar, a pale golden stone snake with enough venom to give a man a bad headache, was coiled around his neck like an ornament. The half-brothers looked nothing alike, for Lerton owned blunt features that were at odds with Kerrion's fine, aquiline looks, and the younger Prince's almost white hair contrasted with his dark brown eyes.
"Is that what everyone thinks?" Kerrion demanded.
"It is true." Lerton shrugged, looking smug.
"No, it is a lie, which you probably made up. I was kidnapped by a man disguised as a woman, a skilful assassin who also killed our father."
Lerton snorted. "You were seen walking off into the desert with a whore, and you went willingly."
"I had a knife at my ribs, you fool."
"So you say, but of course you would." Lerton looked disparaging. "Who would admit to such a demeaning capture?"
"And do you also think that our father was killed by a woman?"
"No one knows who killed him. Perhaps it was you, so you could run off with your whore and consort with the Jashimari Queen."
Kerrion's eyes narrowed as he saw the thrust of Lerton's accusations and their danger. If enough people believed his brother, Kerrion could be denounced as a traitor. "You lying little worm," he snarled. "If that was true, I would not have returned."
"But you had to claim your crown. You are nothing without it."
Kerrion glanced around at the gaggle of servants who stood blank-faced, absorbing every word, and mustered his poise. To allow Lerton to goad him into a public outburst would be ill advised, and was exactly what his brother was trying to do. Kerrion forced an indulgent smile.
"And you would dearly like to get your hands on it, would you not? No doubt you have regaled any who would listen with this ridiculous story. Be careful your desperation does not lead to anything that may be seen as treason, Lerton. I would not like to see my little brother on the gallows for making false accusations and spreading malicious lies about me. If there are any doubts about what happened in father's camp, let the courts accuse me. It is not your place to do so."
Lerton stood stunned as Kerrion turned away, then trotted after him again. "Rest assured, there will be an enquiry, brother. No one will believe that a woman killed father. Trying to blame it on the whore he slept with that night is folly. Your claim that she was a man is ridiculous. Many of the officers observed her that night, and none doubt her sex."
"That is what makes him so successful, idiot. How am I to prove the truth of my words? Would you have me call him as a witness?"
Lerton giggled, clearly delighted by this suggestion. "Of course that is impossible, since he does not exist. All the killers the Jashimari bitch sent failed, so you decided to do it yourself and blame it on some non-existent assassin who looks like a woman. That is a tall story for anyone to swallow. Could you not think of a better one?"
"Sometimes the truth sounds more far-fetched than the tallest tale, but that does not make it a lie."
"You had better start thinking of a better story than that. The council of judges will never believe such a ludicrous yarn."
Arriving at the door to his chambers, Kerrion turned to face his younger brother. Blade, he thought angrily, was too good at his work, so much so that the blame was now being laid at his own doorstep. "I have never been eager to sit on the Cotti throne. That has always been your greatest ambition. If I did not know that the Jashimari Queen sent that assassin, I might be tempted to accuse you of it."
Lerton blanched, stepping back. "I was here in the city when it happened."
"There are plenty of assassins for hire."
"None who would kill their king!"
"Not a Cotti, but a Jashimari or Contara assassin would be eager for the work. A simple matter of sending a messenger to find a suitable man. Everyone has a price, and you have access to almost unlimited funds, though not for much longer." Kerrion stepped closer to his brother. "Once I am King, I intend to restrict your powers, since you only use them for ill. Think long and hard about what you are doing before you incur my wrath. You may live to regret it, if you make an enemy of the future King. I would advise you to leave me alone right now, my mood is not good after the long journey."
Kerrion left his brother gaping at him, shocked speechless by this blatant threat. Before Lerton could muster his thoughts, servants closed the doors. Kerrion placed Kiara on her perch, then crossed the room to splash his face in a basin of water. The servants unbuckled his armour and stripped off the various royal trappings he had worn for his return to the city. Curtained doors on one side of the room opened onto the palace's inner garden, which spanned the area between the royal apartments and the harem on the far side of the square. A feast of fruit and cold meat awaited him on a table, and he went over to sample it as the retainers finished their tasks and retreated. With a sigh, he sat on one of the finely crafted wooden chairs and nibbled a grape, frowning.
The movement of a curtain caught his attention, for no wind blew in through the open doors. He froze, his hand dropping to the jewelled hilt of the dagger in his belt.
"Come out, or I will call the guards."
A woman stepped from behind the curtains, her eyes downcast and her hands bunched in her skirt. She retained much of her former beauty, though the years had ravaged her fine skin and whitened her pale hair. Kerrion relaxed, releasing the dagger. "Why are you hiding behind the curtains, mother?"
She shot him an apologetic glance from pale amber eyes. "I wished to speak to you, but when you seemed in such an ill mood, I thought better of it."
He considered her, comparing her submissiveness, which he had grown accustomed to, with the Jashimari Queen's haughtier and poise, disliking the comparison. "What did you want to speak to me about?"
"I came to warn you. Much has happened in your absence. Lerton, Armin and Ronan plot against you. They have already told the courts that they suspect you of killing your father, and have testified to your hatred of him."
"That is no secret," Kerrion muttered. "Many people hated Shandor."
"They have said that you were in league with the camp whore, and she drugged the King so you might kill him. Afterwards you went to Jashimari together to strike a bargain with the Queen."
"In which case I would not have returned. Surely the judges cannot think me such a fool? This story of Lerton's is implausible, it makes no sense."
His mother nodded. "And yet he will convince them, if not with the truth of his stories, then with the depth of his pockets. He is determined to oust you, and has grasped the perfect opportunity."
Kerrion frowned at the disturbing wisdom of her words. "You should not be here. I did not summon you. If the guards find you, there will be an uproar that I will have to deal with, and right now, I am not in the mood for an argument."
"Of course, you are tired, I understand. Do not worry, no one will see me leave." She bowed her head and folded her hands.
"See that they do not."
Patriss started to abase herself, but Kerrion waved an impatient hand, and she vanished amongst the curtains at the back of his bed chamber. He considered his vague memories of soft hands and a sweet voice singing lullabies to him in the darkness. At the age of six, he had been removed from her care and taken to the men's quarters, where a stern tutor had taken over the duty of rearing him. Menservants had washed and dressed him, and he had not known a woman's touch again until he was old enough to be allowed a concubine to warm his bed. He hardly knew his mother, and had been brought up to believe that women were inferior, too stupid to talk to and good for nothing but bearing children and giving a man pleasure.
Since his encounter with the Jashimari Queen, however, his opinion had changed. Not only was she remarkably intelligent, but also proud and strong willed, something he had not encountered amongst the humble Cotti women. She was not unique, he mused, for the chief advisor, Chiana, had been equally clever, though a little less proud. He wondered what it must be like to share a lifetime with such a woman, instead of the meek silence to which he was accustomed. His father had been a firm believer in the inferiority of women, taking every opportunity to revile or insult them. Yet beneath this arrogant exterior Kerrion had sensed a deep loneliness, an emptiness that had made King Shandor turn to drink and sports to fill his time.
Kerrion's problems had started at birth, when he had been the first son born to a wife Shandor disliked. The King's uncle had arranged the marriage, and Shandor had resented it, especially when his favourite wife, chosen for her charms, had borne a son just two moons later. Shandor had done his best to rid himself of his eldest, unwanted son by placing him in perilous situations. The first attempt on Kerrion's life had been when he was seven, and had recently learnt to ride. Shandor had given him a spirited horse and insisted that Kerrion master the animal. The Prince had soon found himself in a situation he could not control, when the stallion had bolted and thrown him. Luckily, he had escaped with only a broken leg and collarbone.
The next attempt had involved Lerton, who had pushed Kerrion down a well. A peasant had found and rescued him, and Lerton had received several light blows from his father's belt in token punishment. At the age of twelve, Shandor sent Kerrion to inspect a village ravaged by a deadly plague. Although several of the soldiers who went with him died, Kerrion did not sicken. At fourteen, he had been left on foot in the desert while out riding with his personal guard. They had camped overnight, and in the morning Kerrion had found himself alone.
His personal guard had also neglected to search for him, or to even notice his absence. He had walked to a village, where he spent two tendays recovering from his ordeal before returning to his father's palace. At sixteen, he had started his training in armed combat, and his years amongst the soldiers had been rife with strange accidents and odd mistakes by seasoned warriors. He had emerged battle-scarred and tempered by several brushes with death, which had left him wary and suspicious. Upon his return to his father's court, he had employed a food taster, and three had succumbed to poison over the years.
Kerrion sighed as he pondered the strange fact that he had probably been safer in the Jashimari Queen's palace than he was in his own.
Blade halted his horse and gazed at the village nestled in a muddy hollow amid rolling hills covered with giant bloodwood trees. The gloomy aspect did little to lighten his mood, just as shifting his seat did little to relieve the smarting of his posterior from a tenday of almost constant contact with a saddle. Autumn winds had stripped most of the red-gold leaves from the trees and turned them dingy brown, matching the mud that clogged the streets and the houses built from undressed timber. The scene had little to recommend it, even the people who waddled through the sucking mire wore grey or brown clothes. Put together with the haze of smoke that hung about the place and the yapping of half-starved dogs, it struck him as a singularly unhealthy spot.
Blade turned to Lirek, who sat poker-faced on a broad bay horse beside him. "This is the Queen's reward? Does she wish me dead?"
Lirek smiled. "The town's not so good, but your estate is far better."
"You've been here before?"
The bodyguard shrugged. "I've passed through it."
Blade surveyed the scene once more. "What keeps these people here? What do they live on? I see no cultivation."
"These are miners. Your estate has one of the richest gold mines in the country."
"Gold." Blade pulled a face. "As if we haven't got enough of it."
"It pays the bills."
The assassin glanced back at the mud-splattered company who sat stony-faced on their steeds behind him. He had quickly deduced the advantage of riding in the front, and, after two muddy days in the middle of the company, had assumed the lead. The young squad leader rode behind him, his finery somewhat soiled from the day's ride, an eager look in his eyes. Blade turned away and nudged his horse forward. He disliked eager-to-please people, and was unused to the fawning of lesser men.
As he and his men emerged from the forest, some of the peasants cast disinterested glances in their direction, but few paused for more than a moment before going on about their business. Here, in the heart of Jashimari, the war seemed unreal, and the intrusion of a squad of strange soldiers aroused no suspicions. Unlike the border town in which Blade had been raised, where the goatherds had doubled as lookouts and every stranger had been regarded with suspicion. He found their apathy depressing, and their smugness galled him when he thought of all the men who had died to keep these dull people safe.
The company trudged through the muddy streets to the far side of the village, where the forest drew back on either side to reveal a tract of cleared land covered with soggy grass and a few animals. The road divided into two, one winding away into the forest, the other leading to an imposing keep of grey and black stone. Set against a backdrop of dark, bare trees, it brooded beneath a sullen grey sky, summing up Blade's mood.
"How suitable," he muttered.
"My Lord?" Lirek enquired, looking perplexed.
"It suits me, don't you think?"
Lirek shrugged. "If you say so."
Blade kicked his horse into a canter, his bodyguard and the troops following. The tall wooden gates stood open, allowing the cavalcade to clatter into the castle's courtyard unchallenged. Blade swung down from the tall black charger with a soft groan, rubbing his offended hind parts. Shock-haired grooms ran up to take the horses, gaping at the new arrivals.
Blade glanced around for someone more intelligent, and spotted a brown-clad man hurrying towards him. His animal kin was so easily recognisable that Blade was hard put not to smile. The man's hook-nosed face poked forward on a wrinkled neck, his bald pate gleamed in the dull light, and small brown eyes glared from under heavy lids. His movements, while giving the appearance of haste, had a ponderous quality about them, and Blade awaited his arrival with interest.
"Who are you, sir, to ride in here unannounced?" the man demanded. "My Lord, were he here, would not approve."
Blade smiled, switching to the high-born speech that nobles used. "Indeed. And who might your lord be?"
The man drew himself up. "Lord Conash, holder of the Queen's favour, esteemed advisor and confidant of our illustrious matriarch and slayer of the despised King Shandor of the Cotti."
"He sounds like quite a man," Blade commented.
"He is indeed! He would be here to tell you this himself, if he was not so utterly indispensable to the Queen that she insists on keeping him at her side."
"Ah, well, maybe he has other attributes that she requires," Blade remarked, starting to enjoy himself.
"How dare you?" the retainer spluttered. "How dare you insult My Lord and the Queen herself?"
"Did I? Is it so insulting to be chosen by the Queen, or for the Queen to choose from amongst her esteemed lords?"
The man's face reddened and his eyes bulged as he wrestled with this conundrum. "My Lord Conash is… he would not… could not…" He waved an arm. "I do not have to explain myself to you, sir. Suffice it to say that such a thing could not happen."
Blade raised a brow and glanced at Lirek. "News does travel fast." Lirek opened his mouth, but Blade held up a hand and addressed the retainer. "Tell me, my good man, do you know your lord well?"
"Well?" The man looked puzzled. "Not exactly."
"Truth be told, you do not know him at all, do you?"
"Well, not personally, no."
"By reputation only, then?"
The retainer nodded. "That's right."
Blade started to pull off his gloves, one finger at a time. "So you do not know what he looks like, do you?"
"No."
"Nor do you know his signature."
"No."
Blade finished removing one glove and started on the other. "So if you were to receive a letter, signed by him, you would not know if it was indeed his signature, would you?"
"Of course I would!" the man protested, clearly outraged by this impossible assumption.
"How?"
"I know a noble's hand. I can tell a lord's signature from some peasant's forgery."
"Ah." Blade folded his gloves, concentrating on the task to keep from laughing.
"What's this all about, anyway?" the retainer demanded. "What right have you to question me? You have not even told me who you are. And all these soldiers!" He glanced around. "You can't stay here, we can't feed this many men, and besides, you have no permission from Lord Conash."
Blade smiled. "I do not need permission from Lord Conash. I am he."
The man's eyes widened, and he stepped back with a gasp. Confusion wrinkled his brow, then suspicion dawned. "So say you!"
Blade sighed, tiring of the game. "What, do I not look like a lord, even in such finery?" He glanced down at his black, silver-studded tunic. "Do I need to bring the Queen here to vouch for me? But then, you might doubt her identity, too."
He stepped forward and poked the man in the chest. "I sent a woman and her children here several moons ago, with a letter, and they were turned away. Is this how you serve your master? Would you try to turn me away as well? Because I assure you, I will not leave so easily, and I have a company of the Queen's men to back me up. Ask them who I am, if you wish, but if you do, you will find yourself out of a job."
The retainer purpled, then paled, his eyes darting about the courtyard like a trapped rat. Finally he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "I am sorry, My Lord Conash, I had no way of knowing you."
"Nor, apparently, my signature. A little less suspicion would have served you well, and if you had done as I ordered in the letter, I would not be here now, to make your life unpleasant."
"I apologise, My Lord."
"Bring me the woman and her children at once."
"Yes, My Lord." The man jumped up and trotted away in the manner of an agitated tortoise.
Blade turned to smile at Lirek, reverting to the commoner's form of speech with the ease of many years' experience. "I could get used to this."
"You seem to have the knack of it, My Lord."
"Hmm. Well, let's go and find something to eat and drink. A tankard or two of ale would go down well right now, I must say."
Lirek grinned. "I won't argue with that."
Within the keep, they found willing serving girls and a well-stocked larder waiting to be washed down by an equally well-stocked cellar. Blade had found Lirek to be a compliant and pleasant drinking companion, if inclined to get bawdy. The over-eager squad leader and his junior officers joined them, but before long vanished in the company of giggling maids. Lirek kept eyeing a buxom wench who winked at him often, until Blade could stand it no longer and ordered his bodyguard to give in to her blandishments.
When Lirek had been dragged away, looking apologetic, Blade found himself drinking alone, as he often did. He surveyed his domain with tired eyes, finding the decor depressing. Dusty trophies stared down at him with accusing eyes and tattered battle flags dangled like dirty washing on the walls. A pile of ash resided in the massive fireplace, and the rushes on the floor gave off a dank smell.
A scream from the doorway made him jump up and whip around in time to collect a ragged, dirty bundle of sobbing broken-nosed joy against his chest with such force that she almost bowled him over. A strong smell of cows accompanied her, mixed with the redolence of straw and dung. He fended her off, glancing around at the smirking retainer and five snotty-nosed children who stood in the doorway.
"Lilu, get a hold of yourself," he growled, pushing her away. "You've spent too much time with the cows."
She stopped trying to hug him and stepped back. "Of course I have, all because that buffoon couldn't read your signature." She shot the retainer a venomous glance.
"I'm sure you'll make him pay."
Tears shimmered in her eyes. "You came! I can't believe it. You came all this way to save me."
"I did no such thing!" he denied hotly. "I came to inspect my estate."
She smiled. "Of course you did."
Blade shot a glare at the lurking retainer. "Fetch the lady some wine."
After the man had left, Lilu muttered, "Be careful of him, they say that he poisoned the last lord of this keep."
"Poison." Blade grimaced.
"Not something assassins use, hmm?"
"Some do. There was one who used to give his victims poisoned sweetmeats, and he was successful."
"What happened to him?"
Blade shrugged. "Poison doesn't always work quickly enough."
"His victim killed him?"
"His victim's brother."
"Well, be careful of Vurk, I don't trust him. He's had this place to himself since he killed the last lord, some three years ago, I believe. Made himself rich from the mines."
"Unusual for a man of tortoises to be a killer," Blade mused.
"He doesn't have a familiar."
"Ah. That explains it." He picked up his mug of ale and moved away from her redolence, casting a glance at the silent knot of children, relieved that they were quiet and unobtrusive. Lilu noted his distaste and watched him with sad eyes, biting her lip. Blade leant against the mantelpiece and contemplated the ashes in the fireplace, brushing at them with the toe of his boot. He sipped the nutty ale and raised his head to look at Lilu again.
"I won't be staying here long, this place is depressing."
She nodded, unsurprised. "It's much better in the summer, I've heard. The autumn rains have turned everything to mud, but soon the snows will come."
"I'll be gone before then." He glanced around the room. "But even summer won't cheer this place up, it's like a tomb."
"All it needs is a good cleaning, some new hangings and furniture. It could be quite nice."
Blade looked around as a serving maid entered with wine for Lilu, spying Vurk lurking in the shadows beside the door. Raising a hand, he beckoned to the retainer, and Vurk shuffled over to bow to him.
"My Lord."
"Your services here are terminated, you will pack your belongings and be off my estate within the next two days."
Vurk gaped, then gulped and spluttered, "But – My Lord! I am in charge of this estate, I have been for -"
"I do not care. You will pack and leave. I never want to see you again, is that understood?"
Vurk's sullen eyes spat dull anger, but he bowed. "Yes, My Lord."
"Good."
The retainer marched out, his back stiff with indignation. The serving maid stood frozen, her mouth hanging open in amazement. Blade glanced at her.
"You, go and order baths for myself and the lady. See that her children are fed and scrubbed with your strongest soap, then put to bed, in that order. Is a room ready for me?"
She bobbed. "Yes, My Lord."
Lilu smiled at him as the maid hurried out. "You're getting quite good at this, aren't you?"
He shrugged, sipping his ale. "One problem solved, at least. Do you think you can manage the rest?"
"You… you mean run the estate?"
Blade smiled and shook his head. "No, I'll hire someone better qualified than you for that job. Someone without sticky fingers, I hope. You can have charge of the keep, see to its running and make it a place worth living in. Can you do that?"
"Yes! Of course I can!" Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and she started towards him. "Thank you, Blade."
He quit the fireplace and moved away, avoiding another smelly hug. "Good, that's settled then. I'll see you tomorrow. It's been a long journey, and I'm tired."
Lilu nodded, watching him with a mixture of gratitude and hurt as he banged down his ale tankard and strode from the room without the backward glance.
Blade stayed at the estate for three tendays, during which time Lilu rallied a small army of servants to wash, mop, brush and polish. They tore down the old curtains and musty banners and swept out the ancient rushes. The stuffed trophies fed the kitchen fires, and Lilu supervised the creation of delicious dishes in the massive ovens. After a few days of riding over his estate, inspecting its mines and surveying the woods, Blade grew bored and helped with the work, enjoying the activity. By the end of the first tenday, the soldiers had also joined in, and between them they stripped the castle of mildewed hangings and dirty rushes. Lilu found a trader who sold bright cloths and expensive tapestries, persuading Blade to part with a sizeable fortune to refurnish the keep.
By the end of the three tendays, Blade judged the place to be quite habitable, and was a little sorry to leave it and return to the intrigues of the Queen's palace. Before he did, he found and appointed a solid, honest-seeming retainer to replace Vurk. The man almost wept with gratitude for his elevation and swore to serve Blade faithfully for the rest of his life. The assassin set Lilu to watch over the new retainer and ordered him in turn to watch over Lilu, content that they would find each other out if either became dishonest, unless they got together and compared notes. Lilu wept on the day he left, much to his disgust and embarrassment, and he scowled at those soldiers amongst the company who dared to smile at her obvious affection for their taciturn lord.