A Dance of Cloaks (22 page)

“Your majesty, you can’t,” Gerand said. At the king’s frown, the advisor corrected himself. “You shouldn’t, I mean, not unless you want the thief guilds to thoroughly destroy the Trifect. Without their mercenaries they are vulnerable. Their house guards do well to protect their estates, but everything else, from their warehouses to their trade caravans, is protected by men bought by their coin.”

“Why should I give a rat’s ass about their coin?” Edwin shouted. He turned and struck the mirror with his sword, pleased at how it shattered. “I could tax every shred of wealth from their hide if I wanted to. If they’re so frightened of our city’s vermin, then let them flee to one of their hundred different holds strewn throughout Dezrel.”

There was only one card left to play, a trump card with a dangerous cost attached to it.

“If you do that, my king, then you will be signing your own death warrant,” Gerand said.

The king grew shockingly quiet. He sheathed his sword and stared at his advisor with crossed arms.

“How so?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Because Thren Felhorn thinks you attempted to kill his son. He will neither forgive, nor forget. Once the Trifect is dealt with, he will turn his focus on you.”

“He won’t dare strike at a king,” Edwin said.

“He will,” Gerand said. “He has before.”

The king’s eyes widened with understanding.

“My father…”

“There is a reason you became king so young, your majesty. Thren needed instability in the castle to set up his war against the Trifect. You were close enough in age to retain rule, yet young enough to not wield full power for several years. Your mother died from poison, your father a slit throat.”

Edwin’s hands trembled.

“Why did you not tell me this?” he asked.

“Because I didn’t want you to do something that might cost you your life. Your majesty.”

The king pointed a shaking finger at Gerand, the tip waving in front of his nose.

“You damn, manipulative fool,” he nearly shouted. “You told me Robert would just teach the boy, and while he did he’d inform us of whatever he might overhear. How the abyss did that turn into an attempt on the boy’s life?”

Gerand remained silent. An errant word now might cost him his life. No doubt the guards stationed on the other side of the bedchamber doors were already drawing their blades.

“You will answer me,” Edwin ordered.

“Yes, your majesty,” Gerand said, knowing his fate was sealed. “I ordered his son, Aaron, to be captured. We failed. I thought with him as a hostage, we might force an end to the squabbles between the Trifect and the guilds.”

The king struck him with the back of his hand. Gerand fell to one knee, his head throbbing from where the king’s many rings had left deep imprints on his skin. The scar on his face ached, and when he touched it, he felt warm blood on his fingers.

“This needs to be handled, immediately,” King Vaelor said. “I can bear the Trifect, their wealth and their arrogance. Castle walls and guards protect me from their mercenaries. But I will not have some sewer vermin kill me over your mistake, especially that heartless bastard, Felhorn. We know their plans for the Kensgold. Turn that against them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Gerand said.

“Oh, and if you should fail…”

Gerand stopped and turned around, his hand still against the door.

“If I fail, I will willingly go to Thren, kneel at his feet, and announce my guilt in the attempt against his son.”

The king beamed as if he couldn’t be more pleased.

“See, that’s why you’re such a great advisor,” he said, and he meant it.

Idiot,
thought Gerand as he exited the bedchambers.

11

T
hey walked south for over an hour before Theo Kull’s encampment came into view.

“A warm fire, thick blankets, and thank the gods, horses,” said Yoren.

“Charming,” Alyssa said as he held her hand. She felt his grip tighten, and she wasn’t at all surprised when it slid up to latch onto her wrist.

“Behave yourself,” he told her. “I might suffer your barbed tongue in front of my father, but I’ll make you pay tenfold when we retire for the evening.”

Safely out of sight from the city’s walls and the prying eyes within, Theo’s camp stretched out for several hundred yards. Wagons formed its outer perimeter, some covered, some not. Several fires blazed within the circle. One side were twenty smaller tents, shelters for the mercenaries. On the other was a single large pavilion of a faded green color.

At their approach a couple of mercenaries drew their swords and beckoned them closer.

“Your name?” one of them asked.

“Yoren Kull,” he answered. “Take me to my father.”

The mercenary spat.

“Follow me.”

He led them through the camp. Alyssa took in what she could. From the way the men lazed about, it didn’t appear that they’d be marching anywhere soon. Most of the armed men were busy eating, telling stories, or gambling with wooden dice. A couple sneered at her, and given the status of her clothing and hair, she didn’t blame them. She hated them for it, but she didn’t blame them.

Theo sat in an ornate chair in the center of the pavilion. He didn’t stand when they entered through the flap. Alyssa had met him only once, in what felt like a lifetime ago. He was a big man, with big hands and an even bigger beard. He had a hungry smile. He seemed a man who coveted everything he saw with his beady brown eyes. He gestured to two chairs at the table before him. A snap of his fingers, and two servants hurried over cups, plates, and dinnerware. A third servant filled the cups with wine while a fourth plopped servings of meat and bread atop the plates.

“Welcome back, my son,” Theo said. “And I see you’ve brought your lover back from the abyss. She looks it, too!”

He guffawed. Yoren laughed along. Alyssa only stared.

“Come now, I only jest in good nature,” Theo said. “I would never be amused at seeing a woman in such a state. Would you like some of my girls to bathe and dress you before joining us? Nothing would trouble me more than an uncomfortable look crossing your face.”

“She’s only uncomfortable with me in the bedchambers,” Yoren said as he took his seat at the right hand of his father. “Though I fear I inherited that wonderful fault from you.”

Theo burst once more into laughter. Alyssa felt her heart cool. He might have a silver tongue, but Theo was a piggish brute. He wouldn’t have batted an eyelid seeing what his son had done to her the night before. In fact, he might have joined in.

Alyssa shuddered, and it did not go unnoticed.

“Forgive my son,” Theo said. “He offends when he means only humor. Let’s see, Mary? Mary! There you are girl. Clean her up, will you? I remember her a lovely one, so let’s make her match my memory.”

Mary was an older woman with gray hair tied behind her head in a bun. She had been the one directing the other servants that had laid out the food and dinnerware.

“Come with me,” Mary said, grabbing Alyssa’s hand. Her voice was firm but comforting. The look in her eye was guarded sympathy.

Next to the pavilion was a smaller tent for the servants. They slept on blankets on the ground, fifty of them crammed together in a tent meant for twenty. Beside the servants’ tent was a giant wooden tub. After a word from Mary, several younger girls rushed off carrying buckets to fetch hot water from the fires.

“It’ll be cold for a bit,” Mary said as she began stripping off Alyssa’s clothes. “Once we get some heat, maybe a few hot coals, you’ll be better.”

Alyssa glanced inside the tub. The water was hazy, but she’d bathed in worse when staying with her foster families. She let Mary strip her naked, glad that the two tents offered protection from the mercenaries that wandered about the rest of the camp.

“We’ll get these washed while you bathe,” Mary said. “Though heaven knows you deserve better. I’ll see what we have stashed in the…”

She stopped as Yoren’s dagger tumbled out of the clothes bundled in her hands. Her eyes met Alyssa’s.

“A dangerous toy for the bedchambers,” Mary said, knowing exactly what it was for.

“Not when you want the bedchambers quiet,” Alyssa replied.

Mary guided the naked Alyssa into the bath. True to her word, it was cold. When the first of the servants arrived with a bucket of boiling water, Mary took the bucket from her and poured it in herself. As the steam bubbled upward, the older woman leaned closer so that none might hear her.

“You kill him, the monsters here will ravage you,” Mary said. “Keep it hidden. Keep it safe. Wait until you’re truly alone.”

Then she was gone in search of nicer clothing. More buckets of hot water poured into the tub, banishing the rest of its chill. Allowing herself a moment of luxury, Alyssa washed her hair and let the servant girls scrub her skin red.

Mary returned five minutes later holding a blue dress of fine material.

“It belonged to Theo’s younger sister,” Mary explained. “I’ve already asked him, so don’t worry.”

They pulled her out of the bath, toweled her off, and then flung the dress over her head. The laces across the back seemed old-fashioned and over-elaborate, but Mary navigated them with ease.

“Suck your breath in more,” Mary ordered. Alyssa obeyed. The laces slid tighter. Alyssa’s chest heaved upward, looking twice its original size. When she looked down at her own body, the cleavage seemed obscene.

“Bear through,” Mary said, recognizing the look. “A man thinks with his nether regions. The sight of you will stir him, and as long as man’s stirred, he’s stupid.”

The girls dabbed her with perfume, combed her hair, and draped a multitude of necklaces across her neck and chest. When finished, she glanced into an offered looking glass, hardly recognizing the woman in the reflection. She knew that the Gemcroft name allowed her the luxuries she wore, but never once had she felt compulsion to decorate herself so outlandishly.

Mary dismissed the rest of the servant girls.

“For your sake, behave,” she told Alyssa. “You’ll gain yourself nothing but bruises if you resist ineffectually. A hundred rapes are nothing compared to a single stab of a knife.”

Alyssa nodded, realizing the comment cut both ways. Not only must she endure the rapes for her to kill him, she’d have to endure them well enough not to get herself killed. She shook her head, wondering how her future had turned so grim.

It had begun when she started listening to the lies Yoren had whispered in her ear as they cuddled in her bed. Her heart hardened. She had earned this, then. She had believed his silver tongue and turned against her father. For that, she was thrown out and chained to Yoren’s true nature.

The skirt she wore had several layers along the legs. Mary separated them, making sure that Alyssa watched. The innermost was thin, white, and silky. Along the inner thigh was a single pocket. Mary slid the dagger inside.

“Never let him find it,” Mary said.

Alyssa nodded.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Come,” said Mary, extending her hand. “You have a meal to attend.”

This time Theo did rise to a stand at her entrance. A stupid grin spread across Yoren’s face. Alyssa knew that at one time she had thought it charming, and that only enhanced her convictions that she had been an idiotic girl.

“You look stunning,” Theo said. “Isn’t that right, son?”

“Breathtaking,” said Yoren.

Without being asked, Alyssa took a seat beside Yoren. She could tell he was pleased by the obedient wife act. That was good, it’d keep him from raging at her at night, but more important was that this way she couldn’t be dismissed from their planning. She knew they still eyed the wealth of her namesake. The more she knew, the better her chance of minimizing the damage.

“We were actually just discussing returning your rightful namesake,” Theo said, sipping wine from a gaudy gold cup. “It seems we were foolish to trust those Karak bitches to do anything right.”

“My father was ready,” Alyssa said, hoping it might incite a bit of anger, and therefore information.

“He usually is,” Theo said, his words dripping with bitterness. “I remember sending my men to grab what was rightfully mine, but even all those miles away from Riverrun he was still prepared. It wasn’t just the gold, Alyssa, it was deeds, titles, and information. Everything east of the Queln River should be mine. Those lands deserve a true lord! Lord Gandrem has no rightful claim. Let him have the plains. He belongs with the grazing chattel.”

Alyssa stifled a smirk. If she’d meant to incite anger, she’d done exceedingly well. She’d never heard of the Kulls attempt on her father’s safehouses in Riverrun. If she had, she’d have seen Yoren’s courting in a whole new light.

“My lord, a visitor requests an audience,” said a guard as he poked his head in through the flap.

“What’s his name?” asked Theo.

“Her,” the guard said, looking a little flustered. “And she says she has no name.”

Theo let out a humorless chuckle.

“Send her in.”

Alyssa felt a bit of hope as one of the faceless women entered. She was fully clad in her black and purple wrappings, her face a mask of white cloth. By her build, she didn’t appear to be Eliora. She wasn’t sure which of the other two, though.