The Black Robe (The Sword and the Spell) (54 page)

The oldest of the guards, clearly the one in charge, stepped forward slightly. “Now where are you two young ladies and yer grandpas goin’? Don’t yer know that Essenland is full of thieves and murderers? Yer would be much better off stayin’ ‘ere with us. Me an’ me mates will keep yer safe for a favour or two.”

Tarraquin sighed. It seemed that guards were the same wherever you went in the six kingdoms. “I’m sure you would but we have urgent business in Essenland so please let us pass.”

The guard looked irritated at the sharp answer and made no effort to drop his pike. “Sorry, lady, but yer can’t go into Essenland without paying the tax.”

Tarraquin made a show of looking passed him and then up and down at his shabby, weather beaten uniform. “Since when have the soldiers of Northshield collected taxes for Vorgret of Essenland?”

The guard growled something unpleasant and Birrit pushed her way in front of Tarraquin making her take a step back. She gave the guard a shy smile. “My mistress meant no offence, sir. We are just weary travellers and my lady’s condition makes her a little testy. How much would the tax be?”

“For you, pretty, it’s half a silver gellstart each.”

“Would that buy us a bag of food too? We have run low on supplies and my mistress and the old ones need to eat.”

All the guards looked at each other and the youngest licked his lips suggestively receiving a brief nod from the one in charge. “Two gellstart is the tax and it don’t include no food. But there are other ways a pretty girl like you could earn a bag of supplies. All you need to do is step into my tent over there and I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

Tarraquin eased Birrit to one side and held out the two coins. “There’s the tax now let us pass.”

The guard shrugged and stepped back watching the four people walk up the small rise and disappear from view. He gave his mate a cheerful smile and a knowing wink before he took up his position again, waiting for darkness to fall.

It was around a candle length after dark that he heard light footsteps and the sound of swishing skirts as he guessed he would. They had already drawn lots and he’d drawn to go first, which was only right and proper as he was the senior. Cookie would go next and then the boy. They had also agreed that the girl could eat, in between servicing them, to keep her strength up and if there was any time left before dawn he could have seconds. As she stepped into the circle of firelight he stood, opened the tent flap for her and followed her in.

Animus woke with a start as the smell of fresh flat bread broke into his dark dream and pushed the unpleasant images aside. He sat up with a groan, opened his eyes and cried out in delight. There, not a dozen paces away, was a small pile of flat bread keeping warm at the edge of the fire and in the centre of the flames their battered cooking pot had steam coming out of it. He shook Plantagenet awake and struggled to his feet so he could see the oats bubbling in the pot and licked his lips as Birrit added small pieces of dried meat.

Birrit gave him a weary smile and held out a bowl of herb tea which he gratefully took. She knew that Animus would not ask where the food had come from, but she wasn’t so sure about Plantagenet. When he came to the fire however, he just gave her a sad look, shook his head and walked away with the tea in his hands.

Tarraquin was the last to arrive at the fire although she had been awake since Birrit had crept back into the camp just before dawn. She waited until the two old magicians had moved away from the fire to sit on a fallen log and drink their tea, then slowly stood. When she first realised what Birrit had done she was angry but now she just felt guilty that her friend had to sell herself so that they could eat. She took the proffered bowl of tea and stood awkwardly by the fire not knowing what to say.

“Are you angry with me, My Lady?”

Tarraquin shook her head. “No, Birrit, I am angry with myself for putting you in a position where you thought to do such a horrible thing for the sake of us all.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” said Birrit quietly. “You forget that I’ve been a whore for most of my life and having to lay down for a man means much less to me than it would most. Only please don’t tell Jarrul, he wouldn’t understand.”

*

Razarin gave a leisurely stretch, rolled over and ran a hand down the shapely curve of the woman next to him, resting his hand on the rise of her hip. Her skin was soft and silky and apart from the slightest flinch when he’d first touched her, she gave no indication that she wasn’t anything but happy to be in his bed. But why shouldn’t she be happy? After all she had come to him and offered her body, and if it meant that her brother would, at last, move from acolyte to master then all three of them would be satisfied. Slowly he moved his hand up her body and cupped her breast in his hand. It was soft but it didn’t take much effort on his part to make her nipple rise and go hard.

He preferred his women to be older with enough experience to help him rise to the occasion but this one, almost half his age, had done well enough. It was doubtful if she would succeed a second time but it didn’t matter, there were other things she could do to pleasure him. He gave her nipple one last tweak, rolled over onto his back and sighed in satisfaction as she began to caress him.

When the loud knock came at his sleeping room door he cursed loudly and shouted for the intruder to go away. He’d left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency, and whoever it was who had ignored that order would be sorry. The knock came again and this time he could hear Tressing calling his name. He cursed again, pushed the woman from on top of him and rolled out of the bed.

It wouldn’t do for Tressing to find a woman in his bed, not that the High Master was forbidden the pleasures of the flesh. It was just that no High Master had taken a woman since Callistares had taken a wife and Tressing would give him one of those disapproving looks and be sour for a moon cycle. He threw a blanket over the girl, wrapped the quilt around himself and stamped to the door. When he opened the door Tressing stood fully dressed with two acolytes behind him, one the elder brother of the woman who was keeping his bed warm.

“Well?”

“Your Eminence, there are visitors here to see you.”

“Visitors? At this time of night? They had better be someone important Tressing for you to have disturbed me when I was sleeping.”

“It’s two candle lengths past dawn, Your Eminence, and your visitor is the Queen of Leersland and company.”

Razarin blinked in surprise. The last he’d heard was that the Queen was dead. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I can be having never met the lady, but apart from one thing she fits the description perfectly and there are others with her whose word is beyond reproach.”

“What thing and who is with her?”

“I think you should see that for yourself, Your Eminence.”

Razarin sighed in irritation. He hated it when Tressing was all mysterious. “Very well, wait here while I dress.”

The High Master returned to his sleeping room and took his time dressing in his formal crimson robe, the one with the gold embroidery which he only wore when he wanted to impress people. If this really was the Queen of Leersland then it could be the opportunity he had been waiting for. When he was ready he told the woman in his bed that she should remain where she was as he hadn’t finished with her yet. He then walked the short distance to his receiving room with Tressing and the two acolytes trailing behind him. It would have been best if Tressing had stayed outside but when the guard opened the door for him to enter, Tressing followed him in.

He recognised Animus and Plantagenet immediately although it had been many summers since he’d last seen them but there was no mistaking Plantagenet’s height and haughty look or Animus’s squat, pudding-like figure. It was always uncomfortable having another magician in his domain, even if they were as old and decrepit as these two were. At least they looked to be on the edge of collapse so they were unlikely to be able to conjure a descent spell between them. He nodded briefly at them in recognition of their status and turned his attention back to the others.

The man and the woman were clearly servants and of no consequence although the woman had a certain attractiveness to her. They stood behind the hard chair in front of his desk and as he approached the occupant stood and smiled at him. Even if Tressing hadn’t told him who she was he would have guessed. She had a presence about her that only the rulers of the six kingdoms had, not to mention a stunning beauty. Vorgret would pay a fortune to have her back in his possession.

Razarin hurried forward to take her hands and then abruptly stopped as he noticed the huge bulge of her stomach. “Your Majesty, this is a pleasant surprise. What is it that has brought you to the Enclave?”

It was a daft question but she thought better of saying so. “My companions and I have come seeking sanctuary and the protection of the Goddess.” She looked down at her bulge and gave a small laugh. “I’m also in urgent need of a bed, a warm room and a physic if you have one. My baby is eager to come into the world and will not wait much longer.”

“I see.” Razarin walked behind his desk and sat, well satisfied with the situation. “And the child is?”

“Mine,” replied Tarraquin firmly.

“Just so, madam, but I must be honest with you, we have a difficult situation here. It is not possible for a woman in your condition to stay at the temple and have a child. The Goddess would not allow it, and if I were to give you shelter there are others outside of this place who might construe it as the Enclave interfering in the affairs of the six kingdoms, and that would not do.” He steepled his fingers together and pretended to look thoughtful. “However, if you were to pay for your accommodation, like any other visitor to the House of Learning, then no one could say that the High Master was taking sides. You do, I presume, have coin or something of value you could sell to raise funds?”

Tarraquin sank back down into the chair and it was Jarrul who answered. “We have a good horse, My Lord and a serviceable cart.”

“That will do for a start. Now, my lady, if you and your companions will step outside I will have one of our acolytes show you to some suitable rooms and arrange for a simple meal to be sent to you so that your coin will last longer. For my part, in case you think I am being unduly unhelpful, I will send my personal physic to attend to you immediately.”

Razarin stood and walked back around his desk so he could offer Tarraquin his arm and escort her to the door. He waited until Tressing had instructed the acolytes where to take their guests and they had all left before he returned to his room looking extremely pleased with himself.

Tressing looked less pleased. “Was that really necessary? Couldn’t you have just let her stay here without charging rent?”

“Ah, Tressing, have you gone soft all of a sudden just because she’s a woman and a pretty one at that? Yes it was necessary. Now I have her where I can keep an eye on her and in an impoverished situation where her only means of leaving here has gone and she doesn’t have the coin to purchase another. I want her watched day and night and if she leaves the House of Learning I want to know.”

“What about the child when it’s born?”

The High Master shrugged. “If it’s Vorgret’s he will pay for it along with the woman and if not he can dispose of it any way he wishes.” Razarin rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “This is just what we’ve been waiting for, Tressing. With Vorgret’s gold in my pocket I can leave here and you can wear the crimson in my place as you have always wanted to. All we have to do is set our price and wait for Vorgret to come and collect his prize. By the next moon cycle you and I will both be very rich men. Isn’t that what you have always wanted, Tressing, to be rich and powerful?”

    “Yes, High Master, it is what we have both always wanted.

~    ~    ~    ~    ~

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The Truth Will Out

Sadrin was hot. Wearing a heavy cloak so that nobody could see his robes in a crowded inn with a roaring fire in the hearth was not a recipe for comfort. However, the excitement of being out on his own, following his own path, was more than adequate compensation. He took a sip of his wine and grimaced. The problem was he preferred ale or cider but this wasn’t the kind of place that served those sorts of drinks or would attract the kind of ordinary people who would consume pots of the brew. That’s why the two people he was watching looked so out of place and why he thought they must be waiting for their leader to arrive.

He’d stumbled upon them a few days earlier when he’d been walking through the city’s market place on an errand for his master. There had been a sudden shout, a scuffle and then these two had run away leaving two of Essenland’s guards dead in the roadway and their prisoner being hurried away in the other direction. It would have been easy to intervene and dispose of the rebels, but Vorgret had sent him on an errand, like he was a lowly servant, and servants didn’t put themselves out for their masters. Apart from that he was a bit jealous; the two men who had run passed him had looked like they were enjoying themselves, which was more than could be said for him.

It was then that he’d decided to follow them, discreetly of course, but he’d lost them in the twisting streets in the east of the city, an area he didn’t know well. He’d been back a number of times when he could escape from his master’s demands and had spotted them going into an inn called the Soldier’s Rest. It was a rough place that sold good ale, but no cider which was unusual for Alewinder. That’s where he’d waited today and had been rewarded by the two men leaving there together and making their way to the high class inn where he now sat.

They had been there for over a candle length and were clearly waiting for someone to arrive. The tall one, the one with red hair which stuck out beneath his wool hat, had hardly touched his wine, but had spent all his time studying the other patrons who sat at the inn’s many tables. He seemed particularly interested in the table in the corner where two men sat sharing an expensive flagon of wine. One of them was the master of a counting house but he didn’t recognise the other who wore a black hat which partly obscured his face and had all the appearance of being a wealthy man.