Bloodsongs (31 page)

Here was a discovery. Many in Kyr had wondered how so young a lord had earned the right to govern so important a city. Well, she had found the answer, and she remembered the old saying: It matters whom you sleep with.

But the people had accepted him. He had proved himself more than merely an adequate administrator by restoring fair trade with the smaller agricultural villages around Kyr, by filling the granaries and siphoning part of the grain into the bowls of the city's poor, by stamping out the corruption that had riddled the garrison's ranks. And he had proved himself a fair judge as well by acquitting nearly as many men as he had hanged. It was an excellent beginning for one of such tender years.

Frost had no wish to harm the young governor. He was innocent of any part in her business with the king. She hoped things didn't get messy in the next few moments.

The flat of her blade came to rest upon Riothamus's chest. She sat down gently on the bed by his side. When he didn't stir, she leaned close to his ear. “Shame, shame!
 
You're old enough to be his father,” she whispered. “Wake up you silly, sleepy jackass.”

The king of Keled-Zaram let out a single snore, turned on his side, and draped an arm over her knee.

Frost sighed, gazed over at her companion, whose sword point rested on the governor's shoulder. Telric's expression was full of tension. He chewed his lip, a habit he was picking up from her, and bent closer, ready to clap a hand on the younger man's mouth if he should wake and call out.

She gave him a sly wink, then whispered into the king's ear again. “I know how to wake you,” she threatened. She eased the coverlet down until his ribs were exposed. Then, she began to tickle him.

Riothamus bolted awake, eyes wide with surprise, his mouth forming a broad oval. But her palm cupped tightly over his lips, and she brought her face nose to nose with his.

“Hello again,” she greeted him lightly. Her sword came up so that he could see it. The candlelight rippled along the polished edge. After she was sure he had seen it, she laid it across his knees, letting its weight serve as a reminder of its presence.

The governor woke up, too. He saw the sword and tried to sit up, but Telric pushed him firmly back down on his pillow. The Rholarothan's sword came around to the poor fellow's throat, and her friend wagged a finger to underscore their preference for silence.

They regarded each other then with furtive glances, and an understanding was achieved. Frost gripped Telric's blade between thumb and forefinger and eased it away from the youth. “I don't think there's any need for that.” Her voice took on a little more volume as she spoke, “We're all good friends here, aren't we, Your Majesty?” She took her hand from his mouth and placed it on Riothamus's shoulder. She gently kneaded his bare flesh.

Riothamus gazed at Telric, at the blade across his knees, and back at her. The fear in his eyes transformed to smoldering anger, but he nodded slowly.

“I'm sure neither of you will call for the guards,” she said, running a hand over the expensive coverlet. “You wouldn't want us to stain all this fine embroidery.”

“How did you get in here?” Riothamus hissed.

The young governor started to speak, then thought better of it. Probably he knew about the tunnels. Apparently, his king did not.

“Good evening, Lord Sarius,” she addressed the youth. “You were sleeping so peacefully. I regret the need to wake you.”

Sarius eyed the sword that Telric still waved in the vicinity of his naked chest. His fist clenched when he answered, “Then take what you came for and let us get
back
to sleep.”

She could almost hear the unspoken
bitch
that was implicit in his tone. She smiled tolerantly and gave her attention back to Riothamus.

“I'm afraid I need your help,” she told him calmly.

His eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself up on his pillows to sit stiffly. “You desecrated the
Zha-Nakred Salah Veh
,” he snapped. “You murdered Yorul—“

Frost interrupted. “His last lover,” she explained for Sarius's benefit. To Riothamus she said, “We're never going to get anywhere if you insist on discussing old times.”

The king glared, and there was nothing particularly royal about the rage that burned in his eyes. “You have the balls of the gods themselves to come and ask my help. I'll help you straight to your gravel!”

She raised her sword from his lap and let it settle on his shoulder. The cold steel edge rested right next to the large, throbbing vein in Riothamus's neck. “That's an unreasonably uncooperative attitude,” she chided. “Let me put my proposition in terms closer to your heart. Work with me and listen to my advice, or my son will take your crown and your kingdom, probably your life as well, before winter arrives.”

Riothamus paled.

“She's lying,” Sarius scoffed.

The king stared scornfully at his bedmate; then he looked back at Frost. “Why would she lie?” he said slowly. He swallowed as he searched her face for hidden meanings. Their gazes met and locked. “Why would you even come to me at all? Kel na'Akian is your son,”

Frost rose from the bed, stepped back, and sheathed her sword, noting that Sarius, at least, breathed a little easier for that. Telric, however, refused to follow her lead, and the wary young governor watched the Rholarothan from the corner of his eye.

“I won't debate my reasons with you,” she said. “You probably wouldn't believe them, anyway. But my son's got to be stopped, and I'm the only one who can stop him. I need your help though.”

“You killed Yorul,” Riothamus accused her again.

Telric's deep voice startled them all. “She gave funeral rites to every last citizen of Soushane. They were your people, not hers.” His words were venomous, and he glowered angrily at the two men in the bed. “She did your duty, you foolish excuse for a king. There wasn't a Keled around to do it.”

She had told him that story on the way to Kyr. A certain sense of regret washed over her as she listened to him relate it to Riothamus. He made it sound as if she had done a heroic deed, when she had only attempted to atone for some small part of her guilt and shame.

Yet part of her thanked him for coming to her defense.

“Is that true?” Riothamus asked, amazed.

“If it is, what could be more fitting?” Sarius snapped. “She whelped the butcher responsible for their deaths.”

Telric reached down, tangled his huge hand in the governor's thick hair, and dragged him out of bed. Sarius's face twisted in pain and surprise, but his wide eyes locked on the blade that suddenly hovered before his nose. “You need a lesson in how to respectfully address your elders,” the Rholarothan said. He dragged the naked young man from the sheets and sent him stumbling into the adjoining room. “We'll just have a talk by ourselves,” he called back over his shoulder to Frost.

Riothamus watched them go. “Did you really do what he said for Soushane?” he asked when they were alone.

Her lips drew into a thin line. What should she say to him? “I've lived in your land for more than twenty-two summers,” she started, folding her arms.
“My husband and I settled here, made a business for ourselves, tried to raise two sons. Your father was king when we came to Dashrani, and he was a good kind.
 
He was one of the reasons we chose to stay.” She paced to the far side of the room and regarded him from the shadows. “You think I am Esgarian.” She fixed him with her gaze. “But Keled-Zaram is as much my land as yours. My husband lies buried in this earth, and Kirigi's ashes are scattered on its winds or beaten into its mud.” She made a fist. “Get it through your head that Keled-Zaram is my home!”

Riothamus eased his feet over the edge of the bed and wrapped a sheet around himself. He stared at the floor, then up at her. “But your older son has raped Keled-Zaram. He's still raping her and laughing at us while he takes his pleasure. Nine towns he's burned, and countless farms. No one ever knows where he'll strike next. I can't defend my own people.”

“It wasn't entirely your fault,” she said in a consoling voice. “Kel was searching for certain objects. When he finally found the first it became easier to locate the next. Having two made it easier still to divine the hiding place of the third. At this very moment he rides to claim that third object. He may have it now.”

Riothamus stood, but he remained by the bed. “What are these things—these objects?”

Frost considered. She needed his cooperation and his trust, so she held nothing from him. “Objects of magical power concealed in Keled-Zaram by Chondite sorcerers of centuries past.”

The king rubbed his palms together. “Then the stories of this Oroladian are true? There is sorcery involved?”

“The stories are somewhat true,” she acknowledged, “but twisted in the telling. Oroladian is a sorceress, a female, but she's not in Keled-Zaram. She waits for Kel across the Lythe River in Esgaria. My son intends these objects as gifts to her.”

Riothamus began to pace. “But the tales we've heard from the few pitiful survivors,” he insisted, “stories of fire that appears from the heavens, tales of shrieking skull-faced demons that follow your son—“

“The demons are only men in death's-head masks,” she interrupted. “But make no mistake – there's magic at work, too. Kel is also a sorcerer.” She leaned back against the wall; the cold stone sent a shiver up her spine. “That's why you need me. That's why only I can stop him.”

He ceased his pacing and looked at her suspiciously. “What do you think you can do that my army can't?”

“When the time is right you will see what I can do,” she answered cryptically. She reached inside her tunic for the map she had put there. It was warm with the heat of her body, damp with her perspiration. She carried it to the bed and unfolded it.

“Wait,” the king requested, and he went into the next room, where Telric and Sarius had gone. She heard voices, muffled and indistinct, then the sharp sting of a royal command: “Shut up, Sarius!” Riothamus returned bearing several candles, which he lit from the lone candle by the bedside. He placed them around the room, caring nothing for the hot wax that spilled on the floor and furnishings. He came to her side, then, and leaned over to study the map in brighter light.

“I've had time to think about this as Telric and I journeyed to Kyr.” She pointed out Soushane on the coarse leather surface. “Kel found the first object—he calls them Aspects—here. Three days later”—her finger shifted to where Dakariar was marked—“he claimed the second Aspect.”

Riothamus broke in. His finger jabbed at several other sites on the map. “What about all these other places he's attacked? Here, here, here. . . .”

“I told you,” she said patiently. “He was searching. He had to find one of the objects. It didn't matter which one.
 
It would lead him to the others.” A sudden inspiration flashed into her mind as she thought about Dakariar. “Did any of those other towns have peculiar legends or tales told about them? Special wells or temples, sacred groves, or anything like that? Maybe some fantastic thing from your history happened there?”

The king scratched his chin and thought. Then his eyes seemed to light up. “These four,” he said, pointing. She noticed immediately when he failed to indicate Dakariar. Perhaps he didn't know about the well and its reputed healing properties. And if he didn't know about Dakariar, then maybe he didn't know about the rest.

Still, it was enough to convince her that Kel's attacks had never been random. She thought of the cabinet she had seen in his sanctorum in the tower. No doubt some of those obscene objects had come from Keled towns. With her own eyes she had seen him conjure Skraal's emerald jewel from the well at Dakariar. If Chondite priests had hidden such a thing there, what might other, darker priests have concealed in this innocent land?

A movement in the doorway caught her eye. Telric and Sarius were standing there quietly. The Rholarothan's hand rested paternally on the younger man's shoulder. The governor tolerated it with a subdued expression. She half smiled. Whatever they had talked about, it seemed Sarius had gotten the message.

Riothamus brought her attention back to the map. “All right,” he said. “You say he found two objects here and here. Where's the third?”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, praying she had guessed right. By the nine hells, she had to be right! She bent closer and spoke in a near whisper. “Kel gave me the clue himself, when he told me that Chondite sorcerers had buried the objects. Still, it took a little time for me to put it all together. I wouldn't have done it without the map.” She traced an imaginary line between Soushane and Dakariar. “Do you know anything about Chondos?”

Riothamus shook his head impatiently. Of course he knew about that haunted country. No educated monarch could be ignorant of the powerful brotherhoods of Chondos. She explained, anyway.

“The triangle is their most sacred symbol. It is the form and focus of all their arcane power. That's what they believe, at least.” She drew an imaginary circle around Soushane and Dakariar. “These two are on a straight line. There's only one place on this map that, set with them, will illustrate a triangle.”

Riothamus stabbed his finger down before she had to tell him. “The Plain of Kings!” he exploded. “All my ancestors! . . . Not even Kel na'Akian would dare!” His eyes narrowed in grim fury. “Of course he'd dare.” He whirled away from her, headed for the door. “I'll send a force at once.”

“No!” Her voice stopped him in midpace, though she had used none of her magic to compel him.

He turned on her. “My father is buried there, and my grandfather. All their fathers before them lie there, too. What sacrilege does your son commit while we stand here talking? Do you expect me to do nothing?”