Prince of the Blood (48 page)

When Sharana and Erland reached the foot of the dais, the Empress’s Master of Ceremonies struck the ground with the ironclad butt of his giant staff. The falcon that adorned the top of the staff seemed ready to launch itself from the disc of the sun it held in its claws.

“Attend, all ye! She is come! She is come! She Who Is Kesh now sits in judgment!”

Instantly a hush fell over the room. The Empress motioned for Sharana to come up the twelve steps to the top of the dais and the girl did so, a clear look of uncertainty upon her face. This was an unprecedented act, for in the tradition of the Empire, none mounts the Imperial dais save the Empress’s Master of Ceremonies, and he remains a step below, ready to pass up to She Who Is Kesh any documents she might need to peruse. But now she hesitated at the last step, and again her grandmother beckoned Sharana to come to her. When the girl reached her
grandmother, she fell to her knees. Lakeisha, Empress of Great Kesh, gathered her granddaughter into her arms and began to cry. The chamber fell to utter silence at the spectacle, as nothing like it had been witnessed by any in attendance.

At last the old woman released her confused and distressed granddaughter and stood. Breathing deep to regain control, the Empress cried out, “Let it be known that murder has been done in my house!” Tears came to her weathered face again, but her voice remained strong. “My daughter is dead.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience. Several members of the Gallery of Lords and Masters looked at one another, seeking some sign that they had not heard this. “Yes,” cried the Empress, “Sojiana has been taken from me. She who was to follow after me is now taken from the light.” Then Lakeisha’s voice turned angry. “We have been betrayed! We have welcomed into this house one who has betrayed us, who is serving those who would seek to bring us low!”

Erland watched from the floor of the hall, and seeing the Empress’s eyes fall upon him, glanced about looking for his companions. James and Gamina were standing well to the rear of the vast hall, obviously under guard. Gamina’s voice came to him.
James says to remain silent no matter what. He thinks we have been made—

Before she could finish the Empress screamed, “Erland! Prince of the House of conDoin, have you come into this nation to do naught but evil?”

Erland took a breath before speaking, and in a clear, calm voice said, “Make your meaning clear, Lakeisha, Empress of the House of Kesh.”

The familiar use of her name was not lost on the Keshian nobles. Erland was asserting his rank as Heir to the Throne of Isles. He knew that whatever happened, he
was assured some protection by his rank and the tradition of diplomatic immunity.

Glaring down at Erland, the Empress said, “You know my meaning clearly enough, child of woe. My daughter Sojiana, she who would have followed me in ruling Kesh, lies dead in her chamber, as you well know. Dead at the hands of your countryman.”

Erland again glanced around the room, but even as he failed to find the face he looked for, he heard the Empress’s voice say, “My daughter was murdered by the man you brought to our house, and if it can be shown he did so at your order, your rank and position will mean nothing.”

Almost in a whisper, Erland said, “Locklear.”

“Yes,” shouted the Empress. “Baron Locklear has fled into the night after doing his bloody work. The palace is sealed and the search begins. And when he has been brought before us, we will at last know the truth of this. Now, get you from my sight; I’ve had enough of the men of Isles for this life.”

Erland stiffly turned and walked out of the chamber, and as he crossed the portal, James and Gamina fell into step behind him, surrounded by guards. Not a word was said until they reached the apartments given over for James’s and Gamina’s use. Erland turned and commanded the guard Captain, “Leave us.” When the man hesitated, Erland stepped forward and shouted, “Leave us, now!”

The Captain bowed and said, “M’lord,” and ordered his men outside.

Erland turned to Gamina and silently said,
Can you find Locky?

Gamina answered,
I can try
. She closed her eyes and was motionless for a while, then her eyes opened wide in astonishment and she said aloud, “Borric!”

Erland said, “What!”

Forcing herself to mind speech, she said,
For a moment … just a moment, I thought…
There was a silence, then she continued,
I don’t know what that was. For an instant I detected a pattern that was familiar, then just as I recognized it … as I thought I recognized it … it vanished
.

Vanished?
asked James.

It must have been a magician. Only a magician could have shielded his thoughts from me that quickly and absolutely
. With a note of sadness, she said,
It couldn’t have been Borric, not here in the palace. I’m tired and worried. I must have just sensed something familiar in the pattern and jumped to the wrong conclusion before I was certain. I’ll keep seeking for Locklear
.

The two men went to a divan and sat, watching as Gamina stood motionless, eyes closed as she sent her mind questing through the vast palace, looking for the familiar mental pattern that was Locklear’s. Erland moved close to James so he could speak in confidence while leaving Gamina undisturbed. “Did you find anything earlier?” he asked, referring to James’s intention to sneak out and scout around the palace.

“Nothing. There’s too much ground to cover,” James whispered. “It took me the better part of a month to discover most of the secret passages in your father’s palace and that’s one-tenth the size of this one.”

Erland sighed. “I thought you might … find something.”

James shared his disappointment. “So did I.”

They hardly spoke as they waited for Gamina to finish her search. After nearly a half hour, she opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she said quietly.

“No sign of him,” said Erland aloud.

No
, she answered.
He’s not in the palace. Anywhere
.

Sitting back against heavy cushions, Erland said, “I
think there’s nothing more we can do tonight but wait.” He rose and without another word left James and Gamina.

Borric almost jumped from behind the bushes. “What—” he began, but Ghuda yanked him back down before the guards in the entrance noticed. About five minutes after the alarm bell rang, guards began passing the doorway, all hurrying in one direction. There were both the white-kilted truebloods of the Palace Guards and the black-armored members of the Inner Legion. Borric’s only thought was that someone had at last grown suspicious about the odd-looking group wandering through the palace unescorted.

Ghuda said, “What are you trying to do?”

Borric whispered back, “I thought I heard someone speaking behind me for a moment.”

Nakor grinned. “There was some magic.”

“What?” asked Ghuda and Borric simultaneously.

“Some magic. Someone was searching the area. They reacted for a brief instant when they touched your mind.”

Borric blinked in confusion. “How do you know this?”

Nakor ignored the question. “But I fixed it. They can’t find you now.”

Borric was about to pursue the issue when another group of guards in the black of the Inner Legion entered the garden and began methodically searching among the hedges and bushes. Ghuda slowly and methodically pulled his sword from over his shoulder, ready to leap at the first guard who parted the brush behind which they crouched. When the guards were nearly upon them, Nakor leaped up and shouted, “Yeah!”

The closest guard nearly fell over backward in shock at the sight of this strange, scrawny madman leaping out at him. Then Nakor did a little dance and suddenly a dozen guards were rushing him.

Borric’s eyes widened in disbelief as a repeat of the scene he had witnessed the first time he had seen the diminutive Isalani was repeated, for no matter how close it seemed someone was to Nakor, the wily little man eluded his grasp. First one guard, then another, would almost close upon him, only to see the spry Isalani leap nimbly away, laughing maniacally the entire time. Twice he ducked under the encircling arms of one man, tripping another, and darting past a third, before anyone knew what was occurring. As arms sought to encircle him, he hit the ground rolling, and as guards dived to tackle him, he leaped into the air. Whenever a grasping hand sought to close upon him, it found only emptiness. And the hooting, gibbering sounds he made only drove the guards to try harder, taunting them into acting rashly.

Finally a Sergeant of the guard bellowed orders and the legionaries spread out to surround Nakor. The little man reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small object, about the size of a walnut. As the guardsmen rushed him, he threw it at the ground.

When the device struck, a blinding white light burst forth, followed by a cloud of white smoke, accompanied by the same nasty sulfur smell Borric had experienced in the jail at Jeeloge. Blinking, confused guardsmen stood around a moment, then discovered that Nakor wasn’t in the center of the circle anymore. A wicked laugh caused them to turn as one and there stood the Isalani before the hallway door. Whistling shrilly, he motioned for the guardsmen to follow and ran off toward the center of the palace. Ghuda said, “How did he do that?”

Suli whispered, “He must truly be a magician.”

Borric stood up. “They’ll be back when that Sergeant remembers there were others and they hadn’t finished searching this garden. We have to find another place to hide and quickly. Come on.”

Ghuda snorted in derision. “One place is much the same as another to die, Madman.”

Borric looked back at the mercenary for a long moment, then coolly said, “The object of the exercise is not to die, Ghuda.”

Ghuda shrugged. “I can’t argue that. Where now?” Borric glanced into the hall door and said, “In the opposite direction from where all those guards were heading. If we can circle behind into the area they’ve already searched, we can buy some time.”

He didn’t wait for further comment but simply walked into the hall calmly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Silently, he wished he did.

Erland sat alone brooding. Nothing was making sense. The events of the past two days were so improbable that he couldn’t for a moment believe the Empress actually thought he had come into her palace to cause this havoc. There was no motive, no reason, and no explanation, save the obvious one. Whoever had tried to foment war between the Kingdom and the Empire was actively attempting it again and seemed bent on speeding things along. The only suggestion that offered itself was that whoever the architect of this plot was, he wished to provoke the confrontation while every possible suspect in the Empire was in the city for the Jubilee. And there was a bloody brilliance to it, for if enough royals on both sides turned up dead, at some point both nations would cease seeking answers and start looking for vengeance.

Erland wished he knew more intimately the name of him who would wish this madness on two nations, for he would gladly have delivered him—or her, he amended; the women in court were as dangerous as the men—trussed like a game bird to the Empress. He considered trying to get a note to Sharana, reassuring her that he had
absolutely nothing to do with this violence against her mother.

Then he thought better of it. Even if he had plunged in the knife or put poison in Sojiana’s cup himself, he would proclaim his innocence. Then a thought struck him: how was the Princess Sojiana murdered? And if Locklear was under suspicion, where was he? It was not as if he was a thief in the night; he was a peer of the Kingdom, a Baron of the Prince of Krondor’s court. Even should some conflict arise, some argument—even the most heated—Locklear would not harm a woman.

Erland knew Locklear was being made the scapegoat, but how to prove it?

Lady Miya entered the quarters and bowed slightly. “Erland,” she said softly, “the Empress has ordered that you be confined to these quarters under house arrest.”

Erland sat upright, anger suffusing him. “How dare she! Even she would not jeopardize the tradition of diplomatic immunity.”