Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (43 page)

Unable to contain her fury, she spat full in his face.

To her outraged astonishment, he laughed. 'You are a silly pullet. Didn't you listen to a word I said? There will be no more dukes. This war is done, even if Ferdain and the Vixen don't yet see it. Your lineage will mean nothing.' He shrugged. 'Your birth, your marriage, never has meant anything to me.'

Taking a kerchief from a pocket, he shook out its folds. As he lifted the linen to wipe away her spittle, Litasse ripped the knife free of her skirt and thrust it straight at his heart.

He stepped sideways and struck her wrist hard enough to numb her fingers. Then his hand closed around her own and he twisted the blade to point upwards between them.

She could feel his breath on her face, spiced with costly toothpowder. Litasse glared defiantly and waited for the steel to bite her throat. She wouldn't beg or weep or protest.

'I won't ever hurt you,' he said softly. 'I value you too highly, for your courage and your wits and your beauty. I will cherish you as you deserve, if you ever grant me that blessing. Regardless, I will be your friend, whether or not you wish it. I will watch over you, whether or not you know it.'

Litasse opened her mouth but yelped instead as he twisted her hand in an instant of agony. As the knife dropped from her nerveless fingers, he deftly caught its hilt.

'But however much I adore you, I won't let you stab me.' He tossed the long thin blade onto the ruin of the shift. 'Though I am glad to know you're so ready to defend yourself.'

To her outrage, he pressed a swift kiss on her cheek.

'How dare--?'

He was gone in a shock of azure lightning.

Litasse stood frozen, thoughts and questions chasing each other inside her head. When an urgent hand knocked on the door she had no notion how much time had passed.

The knock came again. The maidservant?

'One moment!'

Litasse stared at the door. It was locked and she had no key.

But the door opened unhindered, to reveal Karn. 'Your Grace?' His shadowed eyes searched the room, finding the torn shift on the table, the knife gleaming upon it. 'What happened?'

'I'm sick of stitching.' Litasse did her best to cover her confusion. 'What brings you back here at long last?'

He closed the door. 'Your Grace, I have news.'

'I--' But how could she explain knowing what had transpired in Parnilesse? Besides, the thought of Karn knowing she had spoken to the Mountain wizard scared Litasse somehow. 'Where's Iruvain?'

'In Adrulle, where the Caladhrians only offer him sympathies, no matter how many bandits we send to harry them.' Karn's gaunt face hardened. 'Let's see if the barons stay so indifferent when corsairs sail up the Rel to burn their crops and steal their children.'

'Corsairs?' Litasse was shocked. The ship-borne raiders who lurked in the northernmost Archipelago islands had an evil reputation. Worse, she knew they had indulged Minelas's appetites in return for his renegade wizardry helping them rob and murder innocents. But Karn had kept that from her, as he seemed to keep so much.

'We agreed to do whatever it took,' he reminded her.

'Corsairs don't sail in Lescari waters,' objected Litasse. The long black ships only raided western Caladhria and the coasts of the Gulf of Peorle.

Karn was untroubled. 'Men in Relshaz buy their plunder and sell whatever they cannot make or steal for themselves. I've had them lure a boatload or two with the prospect of loot hereabouts.'

Litasse frowned. 'The Relshazri secure the Rel with chains and floating bridges.'

Karn smiled callously. 'The corsairs will sail up the River Dyal and carry their boats overland to the headwaters of the River Oisin. That will carry them to the Rel.'

'That's ten or twelve leagues across Marlier land,' Litasse protested.

'They've done as much before,' Karn assured her. 'They'll steal horses and carts and we can blame every theft and death on these rebels. That should stir up Ferdain and his Vixen,' he said with sudden venom. 'With this fresh uproar, the Caladhrian Spring Parliament will vote for a muster, I promise you.'

'I see.' Litasse tried to hide her unease.

Karn noticed nothing amiss. 'The corsairs should make the lower reaches of the Dyal about twenty days into For-Spring. There's more we can do in the meantime. Do you recall that rebel hero who defied us at Adel Castle, with those Mountain assassins who killed Pelletria and Minelas?'

'What of him?' Litasse asked slowly.

'Now I know his name, Your Grace.' Karn's smile turned cruel. 'Carluse's tavern-warriors are delighted to claim him for their own. He's called Tathrin Sayron, and he's the man who secured the rebels' victories at Ashgil and Wyril.'

'What of it?' Litasse's apprehension grew.

'Now he's coming to lead Carluse's militias against the brigands we've brought up from Relshaz.' Karn grinned like a death's-head. 'Kill him and the rebels will have no one to command their army. The Vixen will fight on those terms, and we will have Master Hamare avenged.'

If Litasse's thoughts were in disarray before, her turmoil was redoubled now.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tathrin

The Lily Pond Inn, Abray,

Caladhria,

5th of For-Spring

'You may rest assured that peace is returning to Parnilesse.' He realised he was speaking more forcefully than was courteous so softened his words with a smile. 'Triolle, Draximal and Sharlac have enjoyed calm since before the Winter Festival, as I'm sure you will have heard, Master Cardel.'

The two men sitting across the polished table didn't look impressed.

'What of these bandits plaguing travellers?' demanded the stout man whom Tathrin addressed. 'What peace can honest merchants expect?'

'There are few reports of banditry along the Great West Road,' Tathrin pointed out politely. 'We have held Sharlac Town and Losand for half a year now and their militiamen patrol the highway.'

'Taking whatever tolls they fancy.' The stout man's lip curled. 'Our profits this past winter can be reckoned in copper cut-pieces!'

Tathrin would have liked to deny that but several towns further along the road into Sharlac and Draximal lands were indeed levying their own charges. That was merely one of the growing list of concerns that Aremil and Kerith had laid before him, when he had paused at the castle on his way to spend this past handful of days chasing brigands out of thickets.

He turned his attention to the white haired older man. 'Baron Dacren, we will bring that peace to Carluse before the season turns again.'

'But what of Marlier?' Shrewd eyes belied the baron's deeply wrinkled face. 'Every market day brings families fleeing across the bridges into Caladhria with their tales of woe.' He gestured towards the tavern parlour's window with an age-spotted hand. 'For-Spring offers us precious little to feed the hungry.'

'Mercenaries.' Master Cardel scowled. 'Plundering Marlier and Carluse ever since you cut them loose after recruiting them in the first place. I thought you people claimed to be putting an end to hired swords riding roughshod over Lescar. All I see is yet another spring heralding a summer of war.'

'All the mercenaries who fought with Captain-General Evord have long since departed, sworn not to raise arms against Lescar again,' Tathrin told the russet-clad merchant firmly. 'These bandits are mere freebooters. I have militia companies from Losand, Dromin and Carluse Town hunting them down as we speak. Successfully, I might add. Would you like to see the full tally of those we've already pilloried and flogged? There will be no more war in Lescar, not this year or in any to come.'

Master Cardel snorted but Baron Dacren raised a commanding hand before the merchant could speak again.

'What does lie ahead for your countrymen? You say the day of the dukes is done, but who will govern the folk of Lescar in future?'

'We have scholars, priests and guildsmen discussing those very concerns in Carluse Castle,' Tathrin assured him. 'Several notable lords have returned from exile to lend their voices to the debates.'

Aremil had told him so, only that morning. Tathrin welcomed the news though he'd been more pleased to see how his friend was steadily regaining his strength.

Master Cardel snorted a second time. 'Now their lordships have outstayed their welcome here.'

Tathrin forbore to comment though Aremil had said as much. On the other side of the scales, Kerith reported that at least as many nobles who had abandoned Carluse and Triolle were heading south for Relshaz or west towards Ensaimin instead of returning home. A lot of the Parnilesse lords who'd escaped Reniack's slaughter by fleeing into Tormalin showed no signs of shifting and a goodly number from Sharlac and Draximal were joining them.

Baron Dacren raised his hand once again. 'When do you think your scholars and priests will come to some conclusions?'

'We will set our proposals before all the Guilds on the twelfth of For-Spring in Carluse Castle's great hall. We are confident our settlement will be accepted.'

That's what Aremil had said. Tathrin only hoped that he was right.

He was too tired to judge for himself. These opportunist scum drifting up from Relshaz might not put up much of a fight but they were still cursed hard to find.

'The sooner we see Lescar committed to peace the better.' Baron Dacren reached for his silver-headed cane. 'The same goes for clearing these brigands off the highways.' He grasped one arm of his chair and got stiffly to his feet. 'Once the Spring Equinox is past, interruption to Caladhria's trade with Tormalin will become a pressing concern.'

Master Cardel didn't move, still looking sternly at Tathrin. 'The barons voted against intervention at Winter Solstice but the tally was close. You may be certain the question will arise again at our Spring Parliament.'

Tathrin nodded and rose courteously to his feet. 'The barons convene in Duryea, I believe?'

'Quite so.' Unwilling, Cardel stood up. 'Where I'm sure those towns and fiefdoms of Ensaimin who share our interests in the roads heading west will be pressing us to act.'

Kerith had already warned Tathrin that the patience of merchants as far away as Vanam was wearing thin.

'I have every hope the Spring Festival will see a new beginning for Lescar; a prospect that all men and women of goodwill shall find wholly acceptable.'

That's what Aremil and Branca believed. Tathrin hurried to open the door in case these visitors mistook his exhaustion for doubt. Amiable chatter from the hostelry's dining room drifted into the parlour.

Baron Dacren smiled as he walked out into the hall. 'Good day to you, Captain Tathrin.'

'We will call again tomorrow.' Master Cardel's parting words held more threat than promise.

Tathrin bowed low. 'You will be most welcome.'

Closing the door, he went to slump in a chair by the fireside. Tiredness weighed him down like a physical burden. A yawn inadvertently closed his eyes and he contemplated just going to sleep.

But he needed to read those reports from the Carluse company that had ventured towards Hengere. Reher was increasingly certain that these bandits were selling their captives to Relshazri slavers. That could not be allowed to stand.

'Sweetheart?' The door creaked.

Tathrin forced his unwilling eyes open to be rewarded with a cheering sight. 'That's a pretty dress.'

'Isn't it just?' Gren agreed, following Failla into the parlour.

'Kerith had more of my things stored than I realised.' Failla turned this way and that, apricot silk rustling.

Coming to Abray had been worth it, Tathrin reflected, for more than being able to bathe and shave and enjoy clean shirts and bed sheets for the first time in an age.

Failla's smile turned rueful. 'I may as well enjoy silks and lace while I can. We must see everything sold before we leave, to make some gesture towards meeting Master Gruit's obligations.'

'How are you being received?' Tathrin would rather she wasn't playing the penitent on the old rogue's behalf but Aremil and Kerith were adamant that persistent ill will in Abray could only cause problems to come. 'Do they still think you're Gruit's niece?'

'No.' Failla smiled pertly. 'They know I'm Master Ernout's niece, and that's worth more than I realised.'

'A fair few have had dealings with the Woodsmen,' observed Gren.

'None of the merchants whom Gruit fleeced seem to be overly popular.' Failla came to sit on Tathrin's lap. 'If we can offer something towards his debts, most of his creditors will let bygones be bygones, now that the full story is known.'

Gren chuckled. 'With your charming smile and those beautiful eyes, how could any man with blood in his veins doubt your sincerity?'

Failla settled herself comfortably and laced her hands around Tathrin's neck. 'Abray folk with Lescari blood welcome the prospect of peace across the border, however many generations it's been since their forebears fled.'

Tathrin slid his arms around her waist. 'Where's Sorgrad?'