Fool's Errand (47 page)

With this, the king pressed a handkerchief against his lips and struggled to stifle a cough. As he did so, Mordecai gaped at him the way one might gape at a mouse that has just turned into a lion.

“The game … the game is not over until I
say
it is over,” he finally spluttered. “You
will
obey me, or I will leave your nursemaid to starve! I will order my vast army of New Men to slaughter thousands of your lowborn subjects! I will—”

“The thought of the evils you might perpetrate grieves me more terribly than someone like you could ever imagine,” panted the king, pulling the bloodstained cloth away from his mouth. “Nevertheless, I cannot allow myself to be held hostage by evil. Moira and all those who die at your hand or by your command will know that they did not die in vain nor because they were not loved by their king.”

“I will tell them that you abandoned them—” spat Mordecai.

“They will never believe you.”

Mordecai stared at the king, malevolence oozing out of every pore. “And what of your beloved sister, the long-lost Princess Persephone?” he sneered. “She will shortly return to Parthania—”

“No, she won't,” said the king with certainty, before falling victim to another of his wracking fits.

Mordecai stood heaving like a bellows. He'd hated many people in his life, but he'd never hated anybody more than he hated the sickly boy who stood before him at that moment. Because Finnius was not a boy anymore—he was a man.

And not just a man but a king.

And not just a king but a
great
king.

Mordecai couldn't wait to kill him.

Abruptly, he clapped his gnarled hands together three times. Upon the instant, the dozen New Man soldiers who'd been summoned by the servant in the corridor silently filed into the room. Ten of them took possession of the king, who did not even try to fight them off. While they hurriedly escorted him and Mordecai to the waiting carriage, the two other soldiers went to inform Lord Bartok that, regrettably, matters of state had required the king and the Regent to depart unexpectedly. Oh, and also to politely let Bartok know about the two thousand soldiers who were camped just north of his estate. Mordecai had seen no need to have the soldiers add that if he encountered any resistance whatsoever that the New Men would descend upon the estate, razing crops, slaughtering livestock, burning buildings and raping and murdering every living soul they encountered.

Lord Bartok was many things, but stupid he was not.

Mordecai and the king did not travel beneath the royal standard because Mordecai did not wish to draw attention to them. If news of the king's nuptials had already spread, he did not think he'd be able to resist the urge to have his men beat to death any well-wisher who dared to toss a posy of flowers after the carriage or call out blessings for a fruitful royal marriage.

So, rather than travelling as befits a king—or even a Regent, for that matter—they travelled as fast as they could with minimal escort. The journey was brutally hard on Mordecai but even harder on the king. As soon as they reached the courtyard of the imperial palace in Parthania, Mordecai had the coughing, nearly unconscious fool whisked up to his chambers and put under guard with strict instructions that no one but his physicians were permitted to see him.

Content that the king would not be stolen out from under his nose again (since the guards
and
the physicians were all his creatures and clearly understood that they'd be parboiled alive if it were to happen), Mordecai lurched to his own chambers and collapsed into his chair by the fire. That he now had the king back in his keeping was not really a triumph because although he possessed the fool's body, he no longer possessed his mind and spirit. Moreover, if his sickly seed had indeed taken root in the belly of Bartok's spawn, nine months hence a royal child would be born and that would change
everything
.

Mordecai had just begun to despair anew that such a disastrous outcome might spell the end of his glorious ambitions when it hit him:

A solution so simple and perfect that he could not believe he'd not thought of it before.

For a long moment, Mordecai sat rigidly still—probing for weaknesses, looking for flaws.

There were none.

Though he hadn't realized it until that moment, the simple fact was that he had no need of the king or Lord Bartok or the rest of the worms on the Council, after all.

He could have what he wanted, and they coul all go straight to hell!

Hurriedly slouching over to his desk, Mordecai penned a hasty note to Murdock ordering him to cease following the princess and return to Parthania at once. Smiling to himself, he added a short postscript, then bellowed for a messenger. When one appeared a moment later, Mordecai noticed that it was the letter delivery boy who'd so taunted him with his graceful hands some weeks past. Narrowing his eyes, Mordecai shoved the letter at the youth and informed him that if it did not reach the General within five days, his hands would be chopped off and fed to the dogs.

After the trembling fool had fled, Mordecai—who was also trembling but probably for different reasons—sat back in his chair. With luck, the storms would not yet have abated and the General would still be convalescing at the New Man training outpost north of Syon. If he was not there but had resumed the hunt, Mordecai would have to take drastic measures to track him down and ensure that he did not kill the princess under any circumstances.

Mordecai smiled again. Knowing Murdock, he would be perturbed at being recalled to Parthania. He would also fret over the possibility that the princess and the cockroach would find the pool but refuse to reveal its location. It was a risk—one Mordecai had initially hoped to eliminate altogether by sending Murdock after them in secret—but Mordecai had never considered it a significant risk. The princess and the cockroach knew that the king would die if they did not return to Parthania by the time the last white bean was plucked from the jar. And so, since the princess loved her brother and the cockroach lusted after the princess, Mordecai was confident that they would return—either with proof that they'd found the pool or with a plea for more time.

And when they did … well, he'd be one step closer to having everything he'd dreamed of having.

And so much more.

FORTY-SEVEN

G
ENERAL MURDOCK STARED
unblinking out the open window of his small chamber in the New Man training camp, slowly chewing a small bite of cooling liver. A message had just arrived from the Regent Mordecai. It had been written six days earlier, and while the exhausted, mud-splattered messenger had appeared most distressed by this fact, General Murdock was not pondering the reason for the young man's distress.

No, what General Murdock was pondering was the reason he was being recalled to Parthania before completing his mission. The Regent's message had given no indication why this should be so. Nor had it given any indication of how the Regent intended to ensure that the princess and her Gypsy husband did not abandon their search for the mythical healing pool—or worse, find the pool but disappear without bringing this information to him.

With a rather detached sense of unease, General Murdock wondered if he might be in danger. He wondered if perhaps the Regent was displeased that he'd allowed himself to sustain an injury, or if the Regent's favour had fallen upon another, or if the Regent had somehow discovered that his last report had not been entirely truthful. In it, General Murdock had said that he had reason to believe that the princess and the Gypsy had been stranded on the Island of Ru by the arrival of the storms. What he'd
not
said was that according to intelligence gathered from the docks at Syon, the princess and the Gypsy had, in fact, been tossed off the ship upon which they'd been sailing. While it was possible that they'd drowned or been devoured by sharks, it was also possible that they'd made it to the island alive. And since General Murdock had had no way to confirm what had actually happened, he'd sought to spare the Regent undue worry by omitting altogether the fact that they'd been tossed overboard.

Leaning over to frown at an almost imperceptible stain on the white linen tablecloth, General Murdock decided that he was probably not in danger. He'd never known the Regent to spy upon him, and he'd held his master's favour for many years. Besides, His Grace knew that he was loyal and hard-working, and he'd never asked for anything but to be allowed to continue to serve.

Nevertheless, General Murdock thought that it couldn't hurt to arrange a gift—a small token of his continued devotion to the Regent and his glorious ambitions. Since he was to return to Parthania at once, he would be unable to personally help collect the raw materials required to fashion a new “pet” for the Regent. However, he'd send soldiers enough to ensure that the job was done thoroughly, and he was certain that the Regent would appreciate both the gift and the action behind it.

Pleased with his decision, General Murdock took a small sip of ruby-red claret from the crystal goblet on the table before him. Then, picking up the Regent's note, he reread the postscript that the Regent had added.

It seemed that the commander of the outpost was eager to try his boots on for size.

With a sigh, General Murdock set the note back on the table. The commander had been instrumental in saving his life and had served him tirelessly while he'd convalesced from his belly wound. It was unfortunate that he was going to be required to teach the man a lesson regarding the inappropriateness of trying to supplant a superior.

Sawing off another small bite of liver, General Murdock carefully placed it in his mouth and began to chew. As he did so, he wondered if the commander was going to be able to appreciate the irony of attempting to try on his superior's boots even though he'd had his feet removed.

Probably not.

In General Murdock's experience, most military men lacked the depth and refinement required to appreciate such subtleties.

Pity.

FORTY-EIGHT

Eighteen white beans left in the jar

P
ERSEPHONE STARED DOWN
at the writhing mess of worms, leaves and filth. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a more pleasant sight, but it was no use.

Her gorge rose abruptly. Dashing across the silkworm domicile, she shoved open the door and got her head outside just before she started to heave. Since she'd barely eaten anything for breakfast it didn't take long to empty her stomach. Even so, by the time she was done, her head and shoulders were rain soaked and she felt thoroughly chilled by the wind. Pulling herself back inside the warm domicile, she began shakily drying off with the scrap of silk she used for such purpose most mornings. As she did so, Ekatarina—who was frowning with sympathy and concern—said, “There is a saying among our people, Daughter of Fey.”

“Oh?” said Persephone, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “And what is that?”