Bloodstone (12 page)

From the hallway sounded angry curses, punctuated by a howl of pain. The door was thrown open, hinges rasping in their sockets. Boot still outstretched, Teres half fell through the doorway. "Where are you, you potbellied pervert!" she yelled. "What secret debauchery are you--"

She caught sight of Kane. "Shenan's tits! He's with a priest! The weight of his sins grows too burdensome for the old fart!"

"Shut up, damn it!" growled Malchion. "Close that door before your drunken slobbering upsets everything! "

Embrom's tight face appeared behind her shoulder. "Kicked me in the crotch, she did!" he gasped. "You tell me how I'm going to keep her from busting in! If she was--"

"All right, forget it!" Malchion broke in over the uproar. "Close that damn door and keep it shut! Teres, since you're here, sit down and shut up!"

"Meanest-looking priest I ever saw, that's no lie," observed Teres, dropping to a chair and boldly staring at Kane. "What is it?"

"Kane, this is my notorious daughter, Teres, appearing in all her glory. She throws a dagger side-armed."

"Screw you," she commented dispassionately. "Pour a fellow a drink, how about it, priest? But you're no holy man, are you?"

"She has her father's judgment for character. Kane is--or was, until some drunken ass made public gossip of a secret conference--a most resourceful agent, one I've hired to penetrate Selonari's schemes. He's gained the confidence of that gutless wonder, Dribeck, after considerable effort, so he says, and he was about to enlighten me when you so adroitly joined us."

"Hey, this is a lot better stuff than you were pouring for Lian," Teres commended with a smack of her lips. "Pass the decanter, Kane, and I'll split the rest with you. Good vintage shouldn't be wasted on a bursting wineskin like my father-who's far drunker than me, though with his bulk he sits straighter, that much I'll concede. Kane, you just don't make it as a pilgrim, you know. Those eyes, those hands--you look ready to strangle the first fool who comes to ask your blessing. What dark alley did Malchion find you lurking in?"

"Men of my talents are drawn by the smell of battle," Kane replied vaguely, considering Teres with amused interest. "And this cloak serves to mask my features from Dribeck's spies--which it does well enough with the hood--not to entice gold offerings from the devout."

"Oh, a man of talents sits amongst us," Teres fold her cup.

"We were discussing what you had learned of Dribeck's plans," Malchion reminded.

"No, we were discussing how much my information was worth in coin of the realm," Kane pointed out. Malchion grunted in vexation. The other's insolence grew annoying at times, although Kane's bland self-confidence commanded the Wolf's respect. Breimen's lord had a good eye for ability and was quick to recruit the services of anyone he judged useful, which in part accounted for his success as ruler of the fastest rising city-state in the Southern Lands. He judged Kane's services a worthwhile investment, if the stranger were half as capable as he gave the impression of being, and his loyalty secure so far as gold could buy it--as good a guarantee as any mercenary could be held to.

"Look, Kane," he capitulated with drunken magnanimity, "you know my reputation. Ask around, and you'll hear that I deal fair and square... pay off my debts and collect the ones that are owed me. I pay well for any information that's worth my hearing. We've made a bargain already, but if what you've learned is worth more than we agreed on, I'll be judge of that and pay a fair bonus."

"Fair enough," Kane nodded. "Across the Southern Lands you're known as a man who rewards most generously those who serve well--a reputation, I might add, that drew me to your cause in what seemed an imminent war."

"Seemed?" Teres snorted. Kane frowned. "Yes. Uncertainty is no longer to be implied. I can tell you point-blank that there shall be war with Selonari. Lord Dribeck intends to maintain his northern frontier by reducing your own outposts along the border. Further, he sees a full-scale war of conquest against Breimen as the only means to consolidate his own authority over the snarling factions in Selonari's long smouldering power struggle."

"This much I've deduced... and had pointed out to me by Ossvalt and other counselors," Malchion sarcastically observed. "Worthless."

"It's not just conjecture, nor is it nothing more than another border skirmish. I've taken part in the training of his troops, and he's recruited well, from mercenaries and from the private armies of Selonari gentry. His army is well armed and disciplined, and will not long confine itself to drill and parades."

"Tavern gossip still. Selonari has blustered without effect for years."

"Dribeck plans to bluff no longer. He means to cross the Macewen River into Breimen lands. I learned a good bit of his designs while I was in Selonari--as well as specific information of troops, armament, tactics..."

"Which interests me--at least, whatever information my other spies haven't already given me. But this is all part of our original bargain, Kane, hardly reason to open my treasury to you."

"I think you'll find my information more accurate and less public," Kane went on smoothly, building with confidence to his masterstroke. "Would I be boring you if I told you that Dribeck has ordered the assassination of Ossvalt and Lutwion as the initial move in his attack?"

Malchion's ruddy features blanched, then flamed anew. Teres jerked erect her sagging frame. "Lutwion! Ossvalt!" He blurted. "My most capable general and the wisest of my advisers! He plots their deaths!"

Kane nodded emphatically. "They're also two of the strongest voices to call for war with Selonari. He intends that their deaths will appear without connection to their political sentiments. Thus he may at once deprive you of their valuable services, while at the same time he removes two who urge you to take steps to counter his secret designs. He both disarms you and lulls you into inattention--and without your suspecting the cause, so that he can continue preparations for invasion."

"I see Dribeck's craftiness hasn't been exaggerated," growled Malchion. "But how does he plan to murder two of my closest associates without directing blame to Selonari?"

"Unfortunately, I could learn few details," Kane explained. "Dribeck admits no one to his full confidence; to press inquiry would have been unfortunate, as well. I only know that he plans their deaths by devious means. There will be no red-daggered assassin for you to capture and put to torture. Further, I know he plans their deaths for successive nights to make coincidence less alarming. And the murders were to take place soon after I left Selonari--he made a reference to the first night of the full moon. That's tonight."

Malchion swore and leaped to his feet, striving to clear his wine-clouded thoughts. "Tonight! Damn you, Kane! Couldn't you have gotten word to me before this?"

"I haven't been in Breimen an hour yet," retorted Kane defensively. "If I'd fled directly from Selonari, I might not have made it to the river--besides which, Dribeck would have been alerted. He would have made new plans, and my subsequent usefulness would be lost to you. I gambled that I would reach you before his assassins could strike. Evidently my timing has held."

"Ommem knows how close you've cut it, though!" Malchion exclaimed, pacing about the room with anxious strides.

"Well, Ossvalt was deep in his cups with Lian, when I left them," Teres pointed out. "So he's reasonably safe in our own keep. But Lutwion left a few hours ago for his manor--you had some off-color comments on his early departure, I recall."

"Then he's in the greater danger!" Malchion concluded. "I'll send a runner to warn him, and a detachment of guards close behind--if it isn't too late! Ossvalt I'll see to personally!

"Raise your hood, Kane! I'll try to keep your identity hidden, but you're closer to this plot than any of us, and I'll require your presence until I can be confident where I stand!" He rushed from the chamber, howling for Embrom to summon guards.

"Come along, reverend pilgrim," called Teres, steadying herself against Kane's shoulder. "Let's see if Ossvalt needs a priest. Maybe we'll snare us a brace of assassins." The light of excitement shone in her blue eyes, and Kane wondered if she were less drunk than her gait evidenced.

The last revelers had grown tired, and the dark, paneled room was deserted when Teres and Kane returned to the scene of her debauched contest for the slave girl. Doubling back, they reached Ossvalt's chambers before the guard was fully alerted. Lian met them as they entered the corridor.

"Ossvalt! Have you seen Ossvalt?" Teres demanded. "Of course," Lian answered, wondering what new madness his lord's daughter planned with Ossvalt and this foreboding priest. "He holds his cups well, but enough wine will sink any ship. Ossvalt required a little help with the stairs, so I convoyed him to his berth. Out cold when I left him just a moment ago, snoring like a rutting bull."

"Anyone with him?" Teres inquired.

"Alone with his dreams. What's wrong?"

"We've just learned of a plot to assassinate him--Lutwion, too--and probably tonight! Another of Dribeck's bloody schemes! Malchion's off sending word to the general, and he should have ordered guards to Ossvalt's side by now, as well."

"No worry yet," said Lian with drunken assurance. "No one's entered that door since I walked out, and it's a good fifty-foot drop from his windows."

"An assassin could have hidden himself inside," Kane suggested, speaking for the first time.

"True. I didn't bother to poke through his closets," Lian conceded. "Who are you?"

"An ally of dubious integrity, beyond which you don't need to question," Teres said. "You two want to wait for reinforcements while I hunt for an assassin?"

Pushing past the two men, Teres swung open Ossvalt's door and entered. Kane and Lian followed close, the latter with bared sword. Scuffle and clank of harness announced the approach of Malchion's soldiers.

Fully clothed, Ossvalt's corpulent form lay stretched face down across his bed. He made no response to their entry.

"Out cold till morning," judged Lian. Teres was prowling about the room, inspecting each shadow and nook with suspicion. The mercenary captain regarded her movements blearily, then with drunken gravity thrust his sword beneath the bed and knelt down to look for a body. Kane examined the windows for a moment; stone walls plunged sheer into distant darkness.

"As I said, his chambers are empty," Lian pronounced.

Teres grunted. "Leave the shutters open. This room has a sour reek of returned wine." To the entering guardsmen: "Captain, keep three men here beside Ossvalt; the rest in the hall. Do I need to remind any of you about sleeping at your post?"

Kane studied Ossvalt curiously. "I thought you left him snoring."

Lian shrugged. "So? He's rolled over since then. It's a rare man who snores when he sleeps on his belly." Straightening from his inspection of the counselor, Kane remarked, "And a rarer man who can snore when dead--as this man is!"

"A misty night. The sky's clouded over thick as mud--even the moon lies buried. Only light is a greasy flicker of lightning now and then smothered by the clouds, too far away for honest thunder," Lutwion observed, gazing from the window of his manor house. "So it's an assassin's night, after all, even if the moon is wrong. Odd that Dribeck didn't set a moonless night for his assassins to strike. But the man is as unpredictable as he is cunning--a most dangerous combination, to my mind."

"Damn it, Lutwion, can't you stay away from that window?" complained Malchion, harassed and ill-tempered after a sleepless night and frustrating day. "Whatever killed Ossvalt, it must have struck through a window."

"Unless Lian knows more than he tells," Kane commented icily.

"Lian's trustworthy, damn it!" growled Malchion. "I know him, and he has no reason whatsoever to plot with that Selonari schemer. And your inferences had Lian frothing mad--stay away from him, or there'll be blood spilled!"

"Not mine, I think," Kane sneered. "I only put facts together, and if Lian felt insult, perhaps he knows his reasons. As I've said, Dribeck didn't take me into his confidence on this assassination plot, and I don't have to tell you his ways are devious."

"Well, Lian's not with us tonight," broke in Lutwion crisply. "I know the man well enough--he's a tough fighter, a capable leader, and I trust him. Though, under the circumstances, I admit I'd have

reservations if another man were in his place last night."

The Breim general slid a bolt through shutters and turned from the window. His sharp features were seamed leather from years and campaigns, his blond hair thin and cut short. No other marks of age did he carry. His blue eyes were bright and alert; there was a spring yet in measured step, sinewy grace of movement, confident strength. His height was well under six feet, but surprisingly long arms and rugged compactness of frame indicated a man who could lead his soldiers into battle. The last two fingers of his left hand were missing half their length.

"And don't chase me from the window like a scolding nurse," Lutwion continued. "Ignorance of your field is the most dangerous error in any situation. After all, this is my own manor. I know my ground here; my retainers are all men I can trust. In addition to the guards you pressed on me, milord, I've positioned my own men throughout the building and grounds--as well as along the nearby streets. Even on this mist-blinded night, an assassin will have little chance to reach this room-and then he will find armed men waiting, rather than the wine-soaked old man whose sleep he made an endless one last night. I only hope he does try to reach me--perhaps he can tell us much before we finish our sport. As for the windows, let them tempt him. He'll have a good climb from the grounds below."

"He. had a better climb to Ossvalt's window, and that didn't stop him," Malchion muttered. "If indeed he used the window."

"Yes, if indeed," mused Lutwion. "We know so little. Still, my guess is that the assassin hid in Ossvalt's chambers. He came out after Lian left, probably smothered Ossvalt while he slept, and escaped through the window down a rope, which he then jerked loose. Clear-cut work for any accomplished assassin. I suppose we can't rule out the possibility of sorcery in the murder, but I don't think even Dribeck wants to risk the consequences of unleashed powers of magic in this war. He knows our priests of Ommem can retaliate in kind, and from reports I doubt if he can count on like support from the Temple of Shenan--Gerwein's no friend of his, that's certain."