JOURNEY OF THE SACRED KING III Read online

  * * * *

  Sha sat late, writing slowly on her records, transcribing her notes. Her office was neat and tidy with a desk in one corner and three chairs set close to it. The walls were hung with pleasant pastoral scenes of shepherds and their charges with a single scene of peacocks in a garden. Embroidered pillows in the chairs helped to make them comfortable. A knock preceded Yukiah's entrance. The armsmaster wore battered old clothes with a hood around his face, but she had known him too many years not to recognize him. He settled himself across from Sha, folding his arms on a clear space.

  "You're certain about this, Sha?" he asked.

  Sha gave him a long look and shoved a folder at him. "Yes."

  Yukiah opened it and began reading. "Undead?"

  "Yes. I've checked and crosschecked the genetic samples I took. At least two of those who raped Arruth were undead."

  "But that would mean that more males were involved than those the taverner caught." Yukiah idly rubbed a long, tapering burn scar on his neck about the width of a blade. His two rings glinted in the candlelight, one a massive ruby with a nine and an arching cat etched into the surface, and the other an agate with a crust of emeralds. The information and Sha's confidence in her findings unsettled him.

  "Exactly. Furthermore, from the extent of the irritation to the vaginal tissues, I would estimate a sustained period of rape by a large number of males – perhaps as many as ten."

  "Then Wrathscar did have her?"

  "I can't prove it without asking for samples from him to match these against. And you know damned well I'm not going to get them."

  "Do what you can, Sha. I'd like to personally nail the lid on his coffin."

  "I'll try, Yukiah. I promise I'll try."

  "Good enough."

  * * * *

  Belyla woke at the first light of dawn and snuggled closer to Yahni. He lay with his arms folded under his head and his eyes tracing the patterns of clouds through the guestroom window. Belyla stroked her fingers across his godmark, the tendriled rune of Hadjys burned into his chest just over his heart. She loved touching it, touching him. Yahni's face brightened in a smile as he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.

  Belyla quoted the verses from the book of the Black Swan:

  In the Light there was Darkness

  And in the Darkness there was Light

  For there was the Black Swan and the White

  In their love they were found

  And by their love they were lost

  "Yahni, I am totally lost in my love for you."

  My dear Alysyn,

  A Guild child was taken and raped by undead, possibly vampires. Your husband immediately involved himself. That places him at grave risk. Surely you still have feelings for him; else this would be a divorce not a separation. If you have any feelings at all for him, come now. Do not allow your feelings to keep you away from Havensword.

  Eshraf

  Holy Father,

  My primary allegiance is to guard the hidden branch clan and the escarpment along Hellsguard. I have begged my husband for years to give up his command in Havensword and join me here. 'Duty is where you find it.'

  Alysyn

  CHAPTER THREE

  SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY

  Belyla Wrathscar mutinied in silence against her father by seeing Yahni, by carrying no tales of him or the other lords and nobles to Lord Wrathscar, nor of the Guildsmyn she gradually came to know; she spoke to him instead of inane silly things, of harmless nattering, and casual flirtations; and if she did learn anything he might want to know, she made herself forget it, letting it slide through her mind like water through a sieve – the way she shrugged off the things that hurt, the little snubs and snips that she let slide past without focusing on them, making them there and not there like one of Channadar's illusions.

  Belyla sat across from Yahni at a little table in a small eatery. They had chosen this spot because it lay in the farthest corner from the haunts of their friends and those who might report their meetings to her father, stealing every moment alone together that they could manage to. Yahni had spent many nights with her in Terrys' guestroom. It had been wonderful. She watched Yahni fall silent, his gaze drifting off to settle unfocussed between her and a point near the glass counters of pastries and wondered whether she had bored him with something she had said. Or perhaps not said. Belyla often worried that she did not really know how to properly speak to people, her father had always kept them so close and tightly in his grip, isolated on their properties and with no one they could speak to openly.

  Yahni must have caught the odd way she looked at him because he said, "Some folks think I'm slow, because I get distracted, sliding off into my thoughts like that."

  "Like you were just then," she encouraged, not knowing what more to say and afraid to remain silent. She knew he was not slow, merely dreamy at times.

  "Um hum."

  "What were you thinking about?"

  "I don't know."

  Belyla looked suddenly hurt and uncertain. "Don't want to tell me?"

  "No. Just don't know. It's like what Queiggy says; I slide out my third eye. He says I'm not slow, he says I'm so fast, my mind runs seven steps ahead and then I forget the first one. Except when I have a blade in my hands. That's what just happened."

  Belyla laughed softly.

  Yahni grinned, his cheeks warming. "It's like chess, that game the Euzadi play. I learned it from Hanadi. I get all my moves set up in my head. It's got all these pieces." He started gesturing, moving the food and condiments around on the table, an excited grin on his face. "And then I forget what my first move was, but I can remember what my third or fourth one was going to be. Which is probably why I never made it into the field." Then he saw the smiling intent way she continued to look at him. "You're the one not listening."

  Belyla shook her head; her lips pursed in a tiny smile, smugly playful, fond.

  "You're just watching me."

  She nodded.

  "You want to walk in the gardens? The section way in the back with all the nice little hidey holes?" His tone turned even more teasing.

  She nodded. The kissing spots. It was so nice being kissed by someone she actually wanted, rather than someone she hated.

  * * * *

  Edouina knocked on the door and, when she got no answer, she used her key to let herself in. She threw her pack and bedroll down on the couch in the parlor, shoved some wood into the stove, and got a fire going. Then she put a kettle on for tea. It felt good to be home. She had fifteen more kills to her credit and looked forward to sharing her war stories with Talons. Edouina knew that her lover had been in Shaurone during much of the same period that she had, although she had been unable to contact her because of the Guild quarantine of Armaten. Shaurone had been a long, ugly mess from the time she arrived last autumn until a few weeks before she left there. She and Talons would soon be supplying the missing pieces to each other's adventures in quiet conversation as they always did. Edouina was already trying to decide upon which tale to tell first and phrasing questions in her mind to put to Talons. She felt certain that, between the two of them, the rogue guild known as the Gold Ravens had been stamped out. The one nagging question was how it could have gotten started in the first place and allied itself with Waejontor.

  She dug around among the canisters in the cabinet until she found her favorite black tea, filled a tea ball with it, and sat it in a cup while she waited for the little kettle of water to heat. Edouina was tall and storkishly slender with a narrow face and an overbite: unmistakably a Hornbow. Being of Sharani blood, her skin was a rich red-bronze and her long silken hair was black. She had high ample breasts that she kept bound tightly so that they would not get in her way. A pair of swords criss-crossed her back in Shaurone's Aluin borderer style, which took substantial upper body strength to use, the hilts jutting above her shoulders. She unbuckled the swords, hanging them in their place on pegs near the door, and then went into the bedroom she shared wit
h her lover, Talons Trollbane. The afternoon sun slanted into the room through the large windows. The room smelled of roses. Edouina had never known Talons to favor that scent before.

  She spied Talons huddled in the blankets on her low bed, looking pale and worn. "Talons! You're home. Why didn't you..." She broke off. "Oh, honey, what's wrong with you? Are you sick?" Her voice, deep and throatily sensual, emerged from her lips in a long drawl. She knelt by Talons, feeling her forehead with her hand and then her lips. "No fever."

  Talons sat up and the covers slid down around her, revealing her nudity. She seized Edouina in a desperate embrace, clinging to her for a long while before pushing away and staring at her hands. "Bryndel will be here soon. He's always here at this time of day."

  "Is that why you're buck-naked?" she asked, taking her lover in more closely.

  "I've stopped dressing, except for dinner. He comes so frequently."

  Edouina gave her a long glance, this soft hesitancy did not sound like Talons at all. At barely twenty Talons had more than a hundred kills to her credit, all difficult extractions requiring the utmost care, planning, and cleverness in their execution. Talons had a reputation as a matchless assassin, a stone cold killer, impervious, unfeeling, and relentless. This worn-out, haggard young mon bore no resemblance – beyond the physical – to the Talons Trollbane that Edouina had loved for ten years: it seemed as if something had broken her spirit and will during the six months they had been apart. "What's happened while I've been gone? You sound like you've had more than you could handle."

  Then Edouina saw the distinctive, half-healed wounds on her breasts and arms: vampire. "What the hell?"

  Talons shivered as Edouina touched them. "Forget them. It's not safe to speak of them."

  "Then what..." Edouina hissed, her face going hard. "What is going on?"

  "I'm betrothed. The bi-kyndi has been suppressed." There was a catch of helplessness in Talons' voice, an uncharacteristic desolation.

  "I've heard all about Bryndel. I don't like him, or what your grandsire is trying to do to you."

  "Shhhh." Talons scanned the room, meaningfully. "Don't say that," she whispered. "We can't speak openly yet." She bent forward, her breasts settling around her hands as she finger spelled: scrying.

  Someone knocked on the door. Edouina decided to ignore it, certain that whoever it might be would go away soon.

  "Let him in, Edouina."

  "I don't know why you're letting him do this to you," Edouina growled, frowning. Had she seen the spelling right? Was someone scrying the room? Why? And the wounds, clearly a vampire's mark. Were the two linked?

  "I don't have a choice," Talons replied wearily.

  "Just because you're betrothed–"

  "I don't have a choice! Let him in." She sounded almost frantic and Edouina did not like that one bit.

  Bryndel knocked once more and this time he rattled the doorknob.

  "You'll explain it to me?"

  "Not yet." Talons pulled Edouina close, kissing her and using their bodies to conceal her fingers once more as she spelled: scrying. There was no mistaking it this time.

  The knocking repeated, vigorously.

  Edouina opened it, and Bryndel swaggered in, running his eyes up and down her. "Hello, Edouina. Where's Talons?"

  "In bed." Edouina's eyes raked him.

  She had never had more than a distant glimpse of him during his brief tenure in Guild training. The young mon had been sacked by the Guild when he was fifteen and barred from further training at the Guild level of the University for reasons she never bothered to look into. He could still take the non-Guild classes and he had. She decided he was not much to look at and took an immediate dislike to him for his attitude. He appeared to be even worse than she had heard. Some folks would have considered Bryndel to be darkly handsome with rugged features, a cleft chin, and a precisely groomed goatee. Some folks would even have considered him graceful, moving bonelessly like a cat. Edouina, however, caught far subtler nuances than most people: his movement was practiced, not natural, as if he had spent long hours watching himself in a mirror to get it right; his hair too meticulously groomed, suggesting he spent more time on that than on anything else.

  Bryndel grinned. "Right where I want her! You joining us?"

  "Maybe." Edouina followed him into the bedroom. The Sharani were triadic by nature and necessity since it required three parents to produce viable offspring: sire, bloodmother, and wombmother.

  Bryndel shrugged. "As you wish."

  Talons threw the bed covers aside and lay back. Bryndel opened his pants; spread her legs wider and pushed in without preliminaries. Talons cried out in pain and then closed her eyes, as he grunted and shoved.

  Edouina watched him, frowning. "You're hurting her," she observed dryly.

  "She likes it this way. Don't you, Talons?" He sneered. "Most Sharani do."

  "Yes, Bryndel," Talons said softly, her voice catching.

  Edouina knelt, cupped Bryndel's chin, and turned his face to hers. She looked him in the eyes and kissed him, deeply and expertly; and then, letting just enough of the bi-kyndi energy rise, she sent a jolt of pleasure through his body. He came instantly. Talons sighed in relief.

  "Now, boyo," Edouina told him, patting his shoulder. "You come back after dinner and I'll give you the ride of your life." And when I get done with your ass, you'll not be hurting her any more.

  Bryndel shivered, his eyes wide. "I'll do that." He closed his pants and fled.

  Edouina barred the door and returned to Talons. "He's just trying to swell your belly. Nothing more, nothing less."

  "I know that."

  "Are you going to let him do it?" Edouina did not bother to school the irritation from her voice.

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "Because I have to. Lord Wrathscar wants proof I'm not barren."

  "If you're not going to tell me all of it, I intend to find out somewhere else." Then she left, rather than get into a shouting match – she could feel that kind of serious anger rising – with Talons on their first day together in six months. She stopped long enough in the parlor to take the kettle off, setting it aside and retrieved her swords before leaving the apartments.

  * * * *

  Dynarien...Dynarien, where are you? Are you dead? Is that why you haven't come? Oh Hadjys, Dear My God, don't let him be dead. Tears slid down Talons' cheeks, and she would soon have been weeping hard, except for knock at the door. She wrapped a robe around herself to answer it and found herself facing Galee. The Lemyari pushed past her with a swish of her robes. Galee wore a startling shade of scarlet shot through with black and gold, carrying a soft over-sized mink bag hung from her shoulder.

  "I hear your lover, Edouina, has returned. How does Bryndel feel about that?"

  "They're considering a triad."

  "Oh really? And how do you feel his father is going to react?" Galee snapped. "Or your grandsire? You are behaving like a spoiled child, Talons."

  "I don't believe this is any of your business, Galee."

  "As your grandsire's first lieutenant in the Guild, everything to do with this marriage and alliance of houses is my business." Galee dropped the bar.

  Talons reached for it and Galee caught her chin, lifted her face so that their eyes met and took her mind. The heir stilled, her arms going slack at her sides.

  "Go sit down," Galee growled, her voice low and dangerous. "I've been neglecting you for days because of the mess Wrathscar and Solance created stealing Arruth. I've had to rely on Bryndel to get the medicine into you. Well, I'm back to having time for you. Matters will be handled right again. I need to calculate how Edouina will affect matters."

  Talons sat at the parlor table, folded her hands, and waited, her eyes fixed upon Edouina's abandoned teacup.

  Galee opened a cabinet, got a wine glass, and placed it on the table before Talons. She set her bag on the table, took out a bottle, filled the glass, and then added the contents of a vial. "There now, I have
added the medicine. It is time to drink your death." She folded Talons' hands around it.

  "As you wish."

  "With this one there will finally be enough in your body for you to begin to die." The vampire stroked her face, extending her awareness through Talons' body to taste it, going deeper than she had ever bothered to do before while the paladin drank. "Ahhhh. So my cow is with calf. Had you told me, I would have increased the dosage. You would already be writhing on the floor each day." Galee poured her another glass. "When do you intend to tell them?" She produced a second vial.

  "Next party... How soon the pain?"

  "Why do you keep asking about the pain?" Galee demanded in annoyance, her eyes narrowed. She pushed the glass toward her. "Do you fear it?"

  Talons struggled against the bindings in her mind, grabbed at Edouina's teacup, and accidentally knocked it on the floor. The cup shattered. Galee lunged in deeper, savagely, seeing that Edouina's return had somehow strengthened the heir's will.

  Talons stiffened, going pale. "I wanted to die in battle. You're cheating me."

  "Drink your death like a good little paladin and perhaps at the last I'll put a blade to your throat instead." Galee finally realized that the statement about pain, the question was really a testing of the bonds. Talons was attempting to focus on that and get free. Galee would stop her from asking it.

  Talons held for a moment more and then sighed as the strength drained from her and she drank the glass.

  Galee smiled and kissed her. She opened Talons' shirt, her fangs lengthened and she sank them into the heir's breast. Talons stiffened, moaning softly as Galee fed. When she finished, Galee took a soft cloth from her bag and wiped her mouth.

  "Go to your bed, Talons, and take a nap. I intend to remove Edouina quickly. No one is going to interfere with me."

  * * * *

  Bookshelves dominated the Patriarch's study, reaching to the ceiling. Sliding ladders, attached to the shelves, could be pushed along to access different sections. His large desk sat near the broad window, which was open that day to let in the pleasant spring air. The Patriarch was a large, heavy-boned mon who carried himself well. He wore his thick black hair closely cropped and his beard long. His eyes, a warm brown, were sharp and intense beneath his dense brows.