JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III Page 6

  "Who is it?"

  "Your sister." Philomea's arch voice came from beyond.

  Bryndel had dropped the bar earlier, something he did not usually do, but in his distress he had not wanted to be troubled and felt uneasy. "Go away."

  "Oh, come now. What would father say?"

  That did it. Philomea was always dragging their father in as a threat. Bryndel opened it and found Philomea with Milady and her husband Ambrose. His least favorite people. Only Galee and their father were worse.

  Philomea played with her sapphire pendant as she swept in with her cohorts, her head at a proud, teasing angle. Her dress matched her pendant, and fur lined the hems and sleeves. She was accustomed to having her way and to being noticed, every turn of her body, every article of dress suggested it. She wore her blonde hair loose. She was Talons' opposite in every way. Bryndel suspected that was part of why he had always been so attracted to Talons. "Milady thought it would be simply terribly sweet if you would start introducing us to your betrothed and her friends."

  "No," Bryndel replied firmly.

  Philomea made a moue. "Oh, don't be obstinate, Bryndel! We're going be family. It has to happen sooner or later."

  Bryndel's expression darkened into a harsh glare. "No."

  "Father has kept me isolated from most of the court all my life, it is time I started moving in this world. Especially if I expect to make a fine marriage while I still have my looks."

  "Talons doesn't move in the kinds of circles you're looking for, Philomea, and you know it. She moves in Guild circles. Forget it."

  Philomea's eyes examined the room and she started to move past him. He followed her. She ran her hand along a cherry wood table near the door in a desultory gesture. Then she snatched a book from off a shelf beside it. "There are some perfectly lovely Guild lords."

  Bryndel snatched the book from her, replaced it on his shelf, and grasped her shoulder, moving her toward the door. "No."

  "You're being such a bore, Bryndel."

  "Get out!"

  He saw the amused looks on Milady and Ambrose's faces as he propelled his sister across the threshold and into the corridor. Ambrose gave him a curt bow and followed with Milady.

  * * * *

  Yukiah organized a second search the next day and, when it proved futile, he went to the Council with his suspicions. Galee immediately shunted him aside into a small private chamber with only herself, the Grand Master, Mohanja Raam, and Wrathscar – whom he was accusing. Yukiah felt certain that he had been in this room before, because of its location, but if so it had changed much: All the tapestries of saints and heroes were gone, replaced by huge paintings of debauchery. It made him uncomfortable, but he shook it off.

  "Where is Arruth?" He stalked up to the Wrathscar. "I demand that this city residence of yours be searched." Yukiah turned to Takhalme. "I believe that Lord Wrathscar, whose tastes are known, has taken Arruth. His myn were asking for her minutes before she vanished."

  "That is a very, very serious accusation, armsmaster," Galee purred, leaning forward, and draping herself over the edge of her chair. "I would consider carefully who I was accusing. Lord Wrathscar is a powerful mon."

  "Our Guild is not about power, Galee, but about justice. Or have you forgotten that?" Yukiah snapped back at her. The mon was an abomination in his sight. Having been made Guild by fiat, he did not consider her Guild. Yet he was forced to deal with her as if she were.

  Galee shrugged, a simple, eloquent movement that could have been nothing more than an effort to flick back her hair. "Return tomorrow, armsmaster, and we will have an answer for you," Galee told him.

  "Since when do you speak for the entire Guild, Galee? Grand Master?" Yukiah again tried for a single word from the silent ruler.

  "Tomorrow, Yukiah. I am very tired," the Grand Master told him.

  Mohanja Raam frowned and shook his head. The big black mon who was second to Galee in the absence of Hanadi Majios – and indeed voted Hanadi's proxy at her request, the nomad being gone on a wanderyear – could scarcely believe what he heard. A Guild child had been stolen off the training grounds, and not just any child, but the protégé of the heir. Yet nothing would be done at all before still another day had passed? He liked it not at all.

  He prided himself on being a mon who was as much a mon of thought and reflection as of action – which was why he ruled the Wing, records and research. There was no secret knowledge, no source of lore or legend he could not discover, no depth of reality he could not plumb; nor a battle he could not win because he entered it without anger, without rage, and with the cold clear clarity of logic and serenity of purpose with his god in his heart, his mind, and his soul. The lionskin, which he wore around his waist over his trousers, bore testimony to that. He had straddled the beast's back with such calm and tranquility that it was like a trance state, a walking with his god, and snapped its neck. A mon like Mohanja could not listen to what he heard now and not wonder at what it meant on every single level and layer of meaning.

  * * * *

  Lord Wrathscar walked around the large bed in the bright top floor room of his large mansion. Solance had mentioned to him that he wanted a Sharani to test some things on. Wrathscar had offered to provide one and he had. He did not fear the Grand Master or the heir whose protégé he had stolen. He was becoming the only true power in the realm. The heir belonged to his son, and he already thought of her as mere property. What he wanted he took. His alliance with Galee rendered the Guild impotent against him.

  The Guild had tried to prove that he killed his wife. Wrathscar resented their intrusion into his private matters. His wife had been his property to dispose of as he wished; but he did not tell them that. That matter had come to naught through the subtle manipulations of Galee. He had never forgiven the Guild for threatening him.

  Arruth lay naked in the middle of the bed, her limbs secured to the posts, opened wide enough for Wrathscar to observe everything. He had seven of his soldiers standing ready around him, while an eighth rode her vigorously. Wrathscar leaned closer to watch the soldier's movements and Arruth's reaction in a cold, dispassionate manner that masked his pleasure. Solance stood on the far side of the bed, preparing his potions for testing on a small table.

  "I got you your immature Sharani," Wrathscar said. "Now you say you can break the kyndi and induce premature pregnancy. So do it. If you can break the kyndi, you can break the bi-kyndi. Then we can break all the Sharani succubae. Their magic will be defeated and become no danger to me." He knew Edouina was bi-kyndi. She had never made a secret of it, nor had the un-trained heir. It was fortunate that Talons had not been trained, for that made it easier to bring her to heel. Edouina, on the other hand, was an accomplished threat.

  "She must be ridden continuously while I work. The magic must not be given a moment's rest." Solance told them. This worked well for him, since he did not have to touch her himself, which would have offended his sensibilities. The Sharani were a dirty race.

  "There are enough of us here to do that." Lord Wrathscar waved his hand and the men laughed.

  "She'll be storked fore the day's out," said a soldier.

  Solance began opening his jars and vials of smelly chemicals. It would take more than sexual violation to break the kyndi.

  * * * *

  Galee went to Wrathscar's apartments first, searching through them angrily. If he had wanted a Sharani so bad, he should have consulted her. She could have gotten him one that would not have brought Yukiah screaming to the council and the Grand Master. Yukiah was dangerous. Yukiah was arguably the most dangerous man in the palace next to Eshraf. She found nothing missing, but Lord Wrathscar did not need to take anything with him if he had merely gone to his home in the city. She went to her own rooms and changed into riding clothes.

  The narrow streets of Havensword wound around the mountain, the city having been carved out in the paths of least resistance. Galee knew Wrathscar's mansion well, they spent many, many hours there plotting thei
r various treacheries over the years and for a time she had been his mistress when Bryndel was a child. The affair covered a great many things, which would otherwise have not borne watching and added to her bedroom reputation. Then she dumped him in a tremendous row that was still the talk of the court and continued their relationship in secret.

  The place was a thinly disguised fortress with a pounded earth and brickwork wall that supported a decorated catwalk, pretty and functional at the same time. It kept out both the riff-raff and prying eyes. Wrathscar liked his privacy and kept it well defended.

  "Mistress Galee!" Old Rugee emerged from the stable to take her horse when she rode through the gates and she threw him the reins without a word. "The master be busy."

  "I imagine," she snorted, stalking to the door, throwing it open and continuing in. Her sharp hearing picked up the whimpering cries and the males eager panting and grunting. A brief silence ensued and then it began again as Galee mounted the stairs.

  "Just how many are using her?" Galee growled. What the hell is Wrathscar doing? The odor of cooking chemicals wafted down the stairwell. Galee's nose wrinkled, her lips drew back from her fangs. She climbed rapidly. By the time she reached the second floor she was running.

  "What in Hell's name do you think you are doing?" the vampire screamed, bursting in on them.

  Wrathscar was crouched down, observing closely a soldier's thrusts into the bleeding child. Solance had Arruth's head twisted back and was forcing an ugly yellow liquid down her throat.

  Solance and Wrathscar straightened. "An experiment," Solance explained. "I am trying to break the kyndi."

  Galee stalked around to the pinch-faced little healer. "I did not give you permission to act on your own."

  She jerked Solance up by the collar before he could straighten and spilled the last of his concoction over him and the bed. If she had not still required his skills, she would have killed Solance then. Galee wanted to make certain that he obeyed. She did not like her pawns acting on their own initiative and thereby complicating matters.

  Solance had developed the bi-kyndi blocker that allowed Bryndel to rape Talons during the weeks before the bi-kyndi was bound. That had been Galee's first attempt at breaking one of the Tinkerer's creations. She had fed him a lot of nonsense along with the truth about the bi-kyndi, demonizing the Sharani to him. Solance was the source of most of the dark rumors concerning the Sharani, which he had spread through the castle compound at her suggestion. In that, at least, he had shown some skill.

  "Yukiah went to the Grand Master. I'm taking the girl," Galee informed them.

  "Then you'll take her back dead," said a soldier, drawing a blade and reaching for Arruth.

  Galee smiled, flexing one hand. Her secondary nails slid from beneath the primaries and venom beaded on the tips. She shoved one into his neck, striking the carotid artery. He screamed and fell, dropping his blade. The others stared as he convulsed on the floor. Galee picked up his knife and cut Arruth loose. She stroked Arruth's face, sending the girl to sleep, and then she scanned their faces again. "Wrathscar, order your myn away or I will begin eating them."

  Wrathscar waved them back.

  "Solance, you are not to take another from the palace. I will get you a Sharani that will not be missed for your experiments."

  The healer bowed. "Thank you. I will obey and await your pleasure."

  "I expect you will." Galee wrapped Arruth in a blanket, carrying her out draped over her shoulders. She paused just outside the door, listening to the sounds of the soldier dying on the floor and stepped back inside. "When I no longer need or want my pawns, I kill them. Take a lesson from that soldier." She gestured at him sharply, and then looked to Solance who had gone pale. She left before he could answer.

  * * * *

  Shaheeramaat emerged from Arruth and Jysy's bedroom. The healer was small and dark, a plain-faced mon with a spiderweb of lines around her pale cornflower eyes. Sha, as they called her, was the only palace healer that Yukiah, sitting on the couch beside Talons, completely trusted. Jysy curled up in a chair, her face tight.

  "She doesn't remember anything at all, Sha?" Yukiah asked. He had gone after Arruth himself when word reached him about her location, and what had happened, bringing her home in his arms. He would never stop believing that Wrathscar was involved somehow, even though he couldn't prove it, and anger simmered beneath his calm demeanor.

  "Nothing. Nothing at all between the time she says she fled the training grounds and that taverner rescued her from those toughs who were raping her in the alley. Normally Sharani are very tough minded about rape. When it happens, they put a mace in the victim's hand, clean them up, and take them after the perpetrator."

  "She wears his ears and his sack around her neck," Talons added. "And then she never gives it another thought."

  Yukiah snorted. "Tough women. I like that."

  "The taverner recognized her as Sharani and gave her their ears. So we still have no proof that she was even kidnapped. If you'll visit me later, Yukiah, I have some other things I need to discuss. I've given Arruth a sedative. Jysy, take a few days off from class and stay with your sister." Shaheeramaat gathered her things and left.

  Yukiah squeezed Talons' shoulders. She had been his prized pupil. "I'll look into this further. You have a lot to concern you right now. Leave the scoundrels to me."

  "Thank you, Yukiah."

  "Get on about your business. If you need anything, holler." He could see how tired Talons looked and it worried him. A lot of students had begun to carry their troubles to Talons over the last few years, especially the females. He would have to put a stop to that and find someone else to listen to them. Talons did not need more things pressing on her than she already had.

  Talons rose and walked through the corridors to her apartments.

  * * * *

  Belyla lay sleeping in Terrys' guestroom on the second floor of her palace apartments. And she dreamed.

  "Please don't hit her again, father. Please don't hit her." She clutched at the bleeding mon on the floor, staring up at the large, dark, faceless shadow that she knew was her father. Terror gripped her, but desperation overrode it. Belyla threw herself across her mother as a shield. "Please, father."

  "Get out of the way, Belyla, or you'll get a taste of it too."

  "No!" She felt the impact as she was thrown across the room and struck a dresser, causing all the bottles and jars of her mother's cosmetics to tumble over her. Belyla could not breathe. Her ribs hurt. She could not move, but only watch.

  Wrathscar dragged her mother up and began to pound her. Her mother no longer moved or made a sound, hanging limp like a rag doll in her father's grip ... and still he hit her. It seemed like forever before Wrathscar dropped her and stalked from the room. Belyla crept forward and cuddled against her, crying. Bryndel came in, his eyes wide and frightened. He knelt, touched their mother's neck, and began to cry. Belyla looked up at him, wet-faced also. Bryndel gathered his little sister into his arms.

  "Come away, Belyla. She's dead."

  Belyla woke with a scream. Terrys appeared, sat down on the edge of Belyla's bed, and held her close while she wept. "Another nightmare?" Terrys asked.

  "Yes." Belyla's voice was distant, desolate.

  "You wish to talk about it?"

  "No," Belyla lied. She had wanted desperately for years to tell someone, anyone, but fear kept her silent. Belyla had a deep-seated belief that her father would one day kill her as he had her mother.

  * * * *

  Belyla waited for Yahni at Terrys' apartments on the West Wing. She could not believe that anyone like Yahni Kjarten could be seriously interested in her. So she always felt this fluttering of insecurity each time she waited for him. Belyla worried that he would change his mind and not come, or that he would find someone else, someone prettier than 'Lord Wrathscar's homely daughter.' He was everything that her father wasn't: strong, yet kind, and gentle, romantic with his knowledge of all the verses, which he had memor
ized. He knew so much about so many things – nearly all of it things her father disparaged – that it made her mind swim at times. She clutched the book of verses to her breast tightly when she heard the knock at the door.

  "He's here," Terrys said, answering the knock.

  Yahni entered, looking so strong and handsome in his uniform that, for a moment, Belyla could not breathe. His slow engaging smile warmed Belyla to the bottoms of her feet as he settled next to her on the sofa.

  "What are you reading?" he asked, touching the book.

  Belyla put the book in his hands.

  He grinned broadly at her and read the title. "The Black Swan... You like Alysinjin?"

  "Yes." She blushed. The Black Swan: Verses to Alysinjin was her favorite, and letting him hold it gave her another flutter of insecurity. The book had been her mother's and became part of the inner fantasy world that sustained her through worst parts of being Agasthenez Wrathscar's daughter.

  "So do I."

  Warmth spread through Belyla, built partly of relief that he had not rejected the book as unworthy and partly of joy knowing he approved.

  Yahni set her book aside, drew her into his arms, and kissed her thoroughly. The world faded to nothingness and they did not even hear Terrys' departure. "I love you, Belyla."

  Tears filled her eyes suddenly and he lifted her head with a crooked finger beneath her chin. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "No," Belyla said in a very, small voice. "Hold me. Hold me tight."

  Yahni took her in his arms, pressing her head into the corner of his neck. He felt so strong. Yet Belyla shivered and began to cry softly.

  "Come upstairs, Yahni. Stay the night with me. Please."

  "Belyla, are you sure? Are you sure you want me to?"

  "Yes. Terrys won't mind."

  Yahni knew Terrys wouldn't mind. He had done it before with other women she had set him up with. Belyla pressed herself against him. Yahni's conscience failed him. She stood up, pulling at his hand and they went upstairs.