Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (42 page)

With some effort, Litasse kept smiling. 'Iruvain would be the first to assure you that I am a most competent horsewoman.'

Ferdain nodded amiably. 'It will be my honour to see you both mounted when His Grace returns. I believe we will enjoy his company for the celebrations at the turn of For-Spring?'

'Indeed.' Litasse hid her anger. This was the first she'd heard of that. 'But that is twelve long days away.'

One of the lordlings spoke up hopefully. 'I would gladly accompany Her Grace to see that she comes to no harm.'

'I must not distract you from your duties to your liege lord,' Litasse replied with faint reproof. She didn't recall his name but the callow youth had tried to entice her into flirtation several times.

'I could spare him.' Ferdain shot the youth a mildly disapproving glance. 'But I can only entrust Your Grace to my horsemaster's personal care.'

Litasse simply waited, her expression winsome.

'I shall ask Master Hamber to choose a suitable mare.' Duke Ferdain smiled more warmly. 'A lad can ride the fidgets out of her, then Hamber and the horse will be at your disposal as long as the weather stays fair.' He snapped his fingers at the importunate young noble. 'Lord Jainen, carry my message to the stables.'

'You are most kind, Your Grace.' Litasse sank into a grateful curtsey.

'Think nothing of it.' Duke Ferdain was already turning away, his retinue hurrying to follow while the disgruntled Lord Jainen headed for the stables.

Litasse was left in the hallway, the maidservant fidgeting behind her. She ignored the stupid chit.

Twelve days and Iruvain would return. What had he been doing all this time in Caladhria? Every morning she waited in vain for some letter. Had he written or not? Were such missives being kept from her, to be read while she remained in ignorance? Litasse could easily believe that of Ridianne.

What of the rest of Lescar now that the year had turned? She had no way of knowing what was afoot, not until Karn reappeared. She'd had no letters from her mother since Solstice. Who knew what that betokened?

Had Tormalin's legions crossed the River Asilor? Their muster had been the talk of the festival. Could Emperor Tadriol rout this murderous rabble who had overrun Parnilesse? How quickly would word travel west? A courier dove could cover such a distance inside two days but a man on a horse would be lucky to do so inside six at this time of the year, even if he could ride unhindered from Solland through lands held by their foes.

How much longer before any secret dispatches brought to Ferdain became the stuff of gossip among the servants, which Litasse worked assiduously to overhear? If only Pelletria was still with her.

'Your Grace?' The maid plucked at her elbow.

Litasse ignored her. Iruvain's appeals to the Caladhrian parliament couldn't have prospered, otherwise Marlier Castle would have made ready for war. Unless such preparations took place wherever Marlier's mercenaries were quartered under the Vixen's eye. Uncertainty tormented her.

'Your Grace?' the girl repeated, insistent.

'What?' Litasse burned to vent her frustrations by slapping the moppet. But she dared not alienate the Marlier servants while she was trapped here, so friendless and alone.

'You don't have a riding dress, Your Grace,' the maid quavered.

Litasse glared but that truth couldn't be denied. 'There must be some lady in this ant heap of a castle with much the same stature as me. You have until noon to find one who is willing to lend me a riding dress.'

'Your Grace.' The maid bobbed another curtsey.

Her wretched expression tried Litasse's patience near to breaking. 'Then go and do so!'

The girl offered a fearful protest. 'I should be attending Your Grace.'

Litasse clenched a fist, hidden in the folds of her skirt. 'I hardly need an escort to my sitting room. I shall spend the morning with my needlework.'

The maid's face lightened. 'Very good, Your Grace.'

'Don't forget to tell His Grace's Vixen,' Litasse said acidly.

The maid had the sense not to say a word, ducking her head as she scuttled away.

'Don't forget to find me some boots!' Litasse shouted after her.

Now she was truly alone in the sunlit corridor. She sighed. Would Ridianne frustrate her hopes simply by forbidding the maid to find her the necessary clothing?

What did the grizzled whore think she would do? Suppose she managed to persuade this horsemaster to ride beyond Marlier Castle's encircling walls. Suppose she gave him the slip on whatever pensioned-off mare he considered a safe ride for a lady.

Litasse's skirts thrashed angrily as she strode back to her detested sitting room.

Where could she possibly go in Marlier? She had no friends to shelter her. She had no money to travel unescorted. She would risk rape and robbery if half the maids' whispers about plundering brigands were to be believed.

If she fled back to Adrulle? There was nothing for her there. There was no point in fleeing to Ferl in hopes of finding Iruvain. He could be anywhere on the roads in between.

To Triolle? She had no hope of any welcome there, thanks to Iruvain's cowardly flight. To Sharlac? Her mother was as much a prisoner as she was, however much this so-called Duke Rousharn claimed to be her protector.

Litasse hugged her anger close as she stalked through the castle's endless corridors. Anger was better than the despair that so often threatened to overwhelm her.

She reached her gracious apartment in one of the inner courtyards. Overlooking a peaceful garden, it would indeed be a pleasant place for quiet needlework and contemplation. She walked to the work table in the bay window and contemplated the chemise she had been hemming. Snatching it up, she ripped the fine linen from neck to hem.

The door behind her closed. Litasse whirled around to berate whoever disturbed her. But there was no one there. Instead, a compactly muscular man stood beside the fireplace.

'You!'

It was the wizard who'd killed Master Hamare.

'Your Grace.' The blond intruder bowed though his eyes didn't leave her own.

'You have come to kill me?' Litasse recoiled, as if in fear.

As her body shielded her hand, she reached through the slit in her skirt, through her petticoats to the dagger sheathed on her thigh.

'Why would I do that?' the blond man asked, curious.

'To see Duke Ferdain accused of such infamy, in hopes of turning his people against him?' Litasse challenged. 'To see him and my husband kill each other in some trial by combat?'

'I don't see Iruvain risking his neck for your sake.' The Mountain Man smiled. 'But he's as big a fool as he is a coward, not to value you as you deserve.'

'Do not mock me,' snapped Litasse.

'My lady, I wouldn't dream of it.' As the blond man bowed again, his sapphire eyes momentarily softened. 'Unless you're being a silly pullet.'

'How dare you!' Litasse was torn between affront and mystification.

Unbidden recollection of that terrifying night in Adel Castle confused her. This Mountain mage's wizardry had saved her, when that vile traitor Minelas had sought his escape by throwing her into sorcerous fire. She couldn't deny the blond wizard had also saved her from that hard-eyed magewoman who would have delivered her to the Archmage's wrath.

Litasse still didn't understand why. Disgracing her could only have furthered the exiles' cause. Besides, she was undoubtedly guilty. If Litasse could see one thing undone in her life, it would be her utter folly in suborning that monster Minelas in hopes of saving Triolle with his magecraft.

But that was done and the wizard was here and he had killed Master Hamare.

Litasse took a step towards the door. 'Leave before I call every guard in this castle!'

'Scream and you'll just look foolish.'

Litasse heard the soft click of the door's lock. A lock to which she had no key, she recalled with fresh anger. Duke Ferdain had the gall to call her an honoured guest?

'I'll be long gone before any halfwit with a halberd can break in,' the intruder pointed out.

Just as he and his infuriating associate had vanished from their first encounter in Triolle. The guard right outside Master Hamare's door had been too slow to see them, to save her from suspicion of murdering her lover.

Litasse grasped her hidden dagger's hilt. 'What do you want?'

If she could draw him into conversation, perhaps she could get close enough to kill him. Then Hamare would be avenged. Whatever this mage had done since, nothing could make amends for that murder.

'I came to tell you what's transpired in Parnilesse,' the blond wizard said briskly. 'Duke Ferdain won't hear for some days and I don't imagine he'll share such news with you.'

Litasse rallied quickly. 'What news?'

The Mountain Man didn't move from the fireplace. 'We've rid Parnilesse of those traitors to our cause who murdered Duke Orlin and his family. The men responsible are dead, though death in battle is more honour than they deserved. Emperor Tadriol is content to call that justice and to acknowledge that the rule of law was upheld by Lescari hands. Tormalin legions won't cross the River Asilor this spring to prompt Caladhria's barons to muster their households.'

He smiled coldly this time. 'Now we will rid Lescar of these brigands that your husband and Duke Ferdain have been using to goad Caladhria's riverside lords. A bold stratagem, Your Grace, but futile.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' Litasse moved to sit on a chair between the window and the fire. She wasn't within striking distance yet but she was closer.

'Only lie when there's some chance you'll be believed,' he chided. 'I'll wager Master Hamare taught you that.'

'Don't mention his name!' Litasse sprang to her feet.

The Mountain mage looked at her for a long moment. 'Forgive me.'

His apparent sincerity reminded her of his first apology, moments after he had murdered Hamare. When he had persuaded his fellow assassin not to kill her then and there.

In their last nightmarish encounter, he had acknowledged that death as a debt between them. He had offered Minelas's death as some recompense, and his forceful arguments in her defence to save her from her stupidity in suborning sorcery.

Litasse sat slowly down, tormented by her bewilderment.

'Scholars and priests and guildsmen are drafting an equitable settlement for Carluse,' the blond wizard continued calmly. 'As For-Spring advances, we will propose the same accords to Parnilesse, Draximal, Sharlac and Triolle. Then we'll invite the folk of Marlier to choose between sharing such peace and freedom or staying crushed beneath Duke Ferdain's boot.' He smiled briefly. 'Which do you think they will choose?'

'Do you expect me to tell him this?' Litasse lifted her chin, defiant. 'How should I explain I came by such knowledge? He'll think I've run mad!'

The blond mage smiled. 'Ferdain has capable friends, not least Ridianne the Vixen. He's stowed away a fortune in gold with Relshazri moneychangers over these past decades. Whatever happens, he'll fare well enough.' He gazed at her. 'You'll need a friend, though. I'll be at your service whenever you might need my help.'

'How dare you?' Her incredulity turned to rage. 'It's your fault I have no one. You killed Hamare. You killed Pelletria!'

'I had no hand in Pelletria's death.' He took a step away from the fireside. 'That was an accident, truly. She fell down those stairs.'

'Only lie when you might be believed!' Even as her voice cracked with distress, Litasse measured the distance between them.

'I won't ever lie to you.' He took another step forward. 'I killed Hamare, but he took his chances in his war of secrets and spies. You've made no such choice. Haven't you had your fill of death and deceit?'

Litasse just pressed her lips together and glared.

He shook his head. 'Do you want to live in exile with Iruvain? A man you so justly despise, who cares more for his dogs and horses? You're brave and intelligent and you've fought for Triolle as best you can. Iruvain has just thrown up his hands and whined for someone else to come and save him. However misguided your actions, Master Hamare would have been proud.'

'I told you not to say his name.' She gripped her hidden knife. The wizard's own knife. The blade that had killed the man she loved. 'You'll pay for that crime some day. You should look over your shoulder morning, noon and night.'

'For fear of your man Karn catching up with me?' He pursed his lips. 'Are you going to waste your life for the sake of revenge? I can believe it of Karn. Now the dukes are thrown down vengeance is all he has left. All he's ever known is pain so he feels nothing for the pain he inflicts. He has no hope for the future so he never looks beyond the task in hand.' He shook his head. 'When that brings him to the point of my blade, don't expect me to regret ending such a wretched existence.'

He smiled, more charming than ever. 'But you know hope and love and relish for the pleasures of life. So I'll hope some day you'll forgive me and let me be a friend to you.'

'You--?' Litasse broke off and looked anew at the Mountain Man's pristine linen, his neatly combed hair and the excellent tailoring of his cobalt doublet, silver buttons polished. Realisation took her breath away. 'You think to woo me? You fancy yourself duke of Sharlac by marriage?'