The Bloodforged (19 page)

“I came to tell you that you're wrong.” She said it matter-of-factly, as though she were reporting on the weather.

“Yeah, all right, thanks for letting me know.” He started to close the door, but Vel jammed a foot in it.

“Wait.”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

The corner of her mouth twitched, hinting at a smile. “Do you really want to discuss this in the common room, General?” She cast a meaningful glance over her shoulder at the men milling about.

Sighing, Rig stood aside to let her in.

“Thank you.” She hovered for a moment, as if waiting for something. When Rig didn't react, she shrugged and went for the wine.

“Help yourself,” he said dryly.

Her back was to him as she poured, the V of her neckline
framing a smooth canvas of caramel skin. “You are wrong, you know.”

“So you said.”

“I'm not trying to catch you out.” She turned, sipped her wine, dark eyes gazing at him over the rim of her cup. When she lowered it, she moistened her lips with her tongue. “It is true that perhaps I have made certain . . . assumptions . . . about you. About what you would think of me. If I have been wrong about them, I'm sorry.”

Rig rubbed his eyes. It was early afternoon, but he was exhausted, and this conversation wasn't helping. “Okay. Is that all?”

“Headache, General?” She sidled up to him, lashes lowered, mouth curved like a barbarian's blade. “I can help with that, if you like.”

“I'm not in the mood for this, Vel. What do you
want
?”

The coy look vanished. “What I want is for you to let me help you. You need me, whether you realise it or not. We both saw the state of those defences today. Little more than a thicket of sharpened logs. You will be lucky to hold the Warlord for an hour with that.”

“And how to you propose to help me?” He reached past her for the wine jug, and when he leaned in, the scent of perfume hit his nose. She hadn't been wearing it before, he was sure of it. It was a stirring fragrance; he would have noticed.

She lifted the jug from his hands, her fingers brushing his as she took it. She stood just close enough to offer a glimpse of the perfect valley between her breasts. “If the Andithyrian Resistance were to keep Sadik busy, it might give you time to build something more permanent at the ford.” She gazed up at him through those long lashes.

Rig laughed. “I give you full marks for persistence, Daughter, but subtlety is not your strong suit.”

Her sultry look collapsed into a scowl. “You think you have it all figured out, don't you?”

“Maybe not all of it, but enough.”

“I'm trying to seduce you in order to get my way, is that it?”

“You tell me.”

“I suppose you think I'm the spy too.”

Rig's smile vanished. He set his cup down on the table, carefully. “Who said anything about a spy?”

She made a dismissive gesture. “Of course there is a spy. How else would Sadik have known of your plans to blow the bridge? Except that wasn't
really
the plan, a fact you kept secret from the foreigners, perhaps because you already knew you had a spy in your ranks.” She closed in on him again, her chin turned up defiantly. “What do you think, General? Which of us is it? The commander, or his pet witch of a priestess?
Oh!
” Her eyes rounded, and she brought her fingers to her lips. “Maybe it's
both
!”

“Are you through?”

She sniffed and turned away. Snatching up her wine cup, she filled it again and threw back a mouthful.

“Are you sure you're in the right robes, Daughter? Maybe Ardin would suit you better.”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, Rig fully expected to get a cup of wine in the face. Instead, she blew out a resigned laugh. “If you think these robes are scandalous, you should see what the priestesses of Ardin wear.”

“Scandalous? Those? Hardly.”

“Not in Alden, perhaps, but my people are more conservative. Back home, these are barely decent.”

“Which is why you wear them, of course.”

She smiled wearily. “Defensive provocation, I think you called it.”

Rig took her cup and filled it one last time. “I'll let you in on a secret, Daughter. You might not be able to tell, what with my refined manners and my soft, manicured hands”—he held up a callused palm for her to inspect—“but I'm actually a bit of a brute. So the next time you go out of your way to shock me, just remember it's going to take a lot more than a dip in your dress.”

She smiled again, only this time, it reached all the way to her eyes. “That sounds like a challenge.”

He sipped his wine, letting what was left of the ice between them thaw while he chose his next words. “As for the rest, I agree with you. I do have a spy on my hands, and bigger problems besides. We can't hold the border with timber palisades and a few makeshift towers.”

“Sadik will throw everything he has at you, as many men as it takes to break through your defences.”

“And he'll still outnumber us when he's through. I know.” Rig paused, giving himself one last chance to back out. But it was no good—he was out of options. Sadik had seen to that. Rig could either sit here and wait for death to come to them, or he could risk it all. Again. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Which is why I've decided to let you go.”

Vel stared at him, as if she couldn't quite believe it. Not that Rig blamed her—he could barely believe it himself. “Truly? You will let me seek out the Resistance?”

“I don't have much choice. My spies aren't getting anywhere, and I need a breakthrough, fast.”

“You will have it,” Vel promised, her eyes bright and eager.

“I can get you across the river, but after that, you're on your own.” He fixed her with a long, grim look, a deliberate counterweight to her enthusiasm. “Are you sure about this? If you're caught . . .”

“I won't be.”

“No unnecessary risks. We need this, Vel. We need it very badly.”

“I won't let you down, General.” She stood on her toes and planted a kiss on his lips, like a child who'd been given what she wanted for her birthday. “I will start preparing immediately.”

She left him standing by the hearth, sipping warmed wine, wondering if he'd just made a terrible mistake.

“I
n the middle of the night,” said Rona Brown.
“Alone.”
She shook her head, dark eyes flashing with anger. When she looked at him like that, she reminded him of Allie.

“I asked if I could bring you along.” Liam's gaze took in his officers, all three of whom sat across from him, looking annoyed. “The spy refused. What choice did I have? We need to get at the truth here, whatever it takes.”

Rona scowled. “Even if it takes you being jumped by assassins?”

“Let's not be dramatic. If they'd really meant to kill me, they would have been armed with more than sticks. They were just some thugs sent to scare me, that's all, get me to back off.”

“And what about the spy?” Rona persisted. “When were you going to tell us about him?”

“Er . . .” Liam raked his fingers through his hair.

“Pretty reckless, Commander,” Ide put in. “Starting to think maybe Alix is a bad influence.”

“Funny. Look, this is the first good lead we've had. I don't plan on making a habit of it.”

“That's what you said when we went to see the shipwright,” Rona reminded him.

“What if the spy comes back?” Dain asked. “What if he offers to take you to the Sons of the Revolution, or the Freemen?”

“What if,” said Rona, “he comes back to
kill
you?”

Liam sighed. “All right, I'm properly chastised. Now is anyone interested in hearing what I found out, or shall I just go chat to Rudi?”

An exchange of sulky glances. “Go on, then,” Ide said.

“The Shield didn't come right out and say it, but they know who's behind this. They promised to try to stop him, but I'm not holding my breath. I say we take care of this ourselves.”

“So who is it?” Dain asked.

“They didn't give me a name. Wanted him to face Onnani justice, they said. But they did let slip some details that I think we can use.” He related what the Shield had told him, about a rich man who'd lost everything. “On top of that, I figure he'd have to have some connection to the fleet, or ships in general, in order to get it done. If we put those pieces together, we can find this son of a bitch.”

Dain grunted thoughtfully. “That could work, provided we can find someone willing to serve it up on the Onnani elite.”

“As soon as I got back this morning, I woke Shef and asked him to send for Ash Bookman.”

“What makes you think he'll tell you anything?” Rona asked. “He's a part of that world too.”

“For now, I'm taking Kar at his word that he wants this situation resolved. After all, it reflects badly on him and his government.”

Ide grinned. “Gotta admit, Commander, I'm impressed. Didn't know you had it in you, all this sleuthing.”

“It's a bit early to get excited.” That was the commander of the White Wolves talking. Liam was bloody
delighted
.

He was in such a good mood that he even tried the shrivelled fish at breakfast that morning. It wasn't half bad. Vastly inferior to bacon, obviously, but edible.

Ash Bookman arrived just as Liam and his officers were repairing to the sunroom. Kar's secretary looked tidy and dignified in a plain doublet and breeches, his smooth young face intelligent and serious. Liam gestured for the secretary to sit. “Thought we'd get started early, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all, Your Highness.” Drawing an ink bottle and quill from his pocket, Ash placed them on a side table and sat primly, leather notebook at the ready.

“I'm going to start with some questions, and they might sound a little odd.”

Ash smiled politely. “I'm sure they won't, Your Highness.”

“How many people live in Onnan City, would you say?”

“We estimate approximately fifty-five thousand, Your Highness.”

Liam made a face. “Listen, about the
Your Highness
thing. It's not . . . I'd just rather you didn't.”

The secretary blinked in mild astonishment. “As you wish . . . er . . . Commander?”

“That's fine. So anyway, the fifty-five thousand . . . I imagine most of them are fisherfolk, bakers, tailors, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, Your . . .” He swallowed. “Yes.”

“How many men in this city would you consider to be wealthy?”

Ash furrowed his brow. “I suppose that depends. How would you define wealthy?”

A good question. Before he'd taken a second name, Liam would have defined
wealthy
as having a proper bed to sleep in. He glanced at Rona Brown, but she'd probably think of it as having an estate the size of a small country. Somehow, Liam didn't think either of those answers would help.

Dain Cooper came to his rescue. “Able to afford a place like this, say.” He made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the gleaming white splendour of Bayview. “Or at least a home in the Ambassador District.”

“In that case, very few indeed. There are about fifty homes in this quarter of the city, plus a few estates nearby. Call it seventy or so, to be safe.”

That sounded about right, roughly the same ratio as noblemen to commoners back home. “And of those seventy or so,” Liam asked, “have any fallen on hard times?”

Ash Bookman's eyes narrowed a fraction. “I'm not sure what you mean, Commander.”

Liam smiled and reclined in his chair, all casual charm. “No need to be uncomfortable, Ash. It's a simple question. Have any of the wealthy families in Onnan City lost their fortunes over the past few years?”

The secretary's gaze fell to his notebook, as though he might find the answer there. “I'm not a wealthy man myself,” he said. “Such men rarely take me into their confidence.”

“You're the secretary of the first speaker of the Republicana,” Liam said, still smiling. “You must hear all kinds of things.”

“Discretion is a basic requirement of my function. I don't
see what use such gossip would be, and it would be vulgar of me to spread it.”

“So you do know, then,” Dain Cooper said.

The secretary frowned. “I know many things, which if I thought they were relevant, I would certainly share.”

“I was under the impression you were supposed to help me, Ash.”

“Please, Your . . . Commander. I'm not being deliberately obstinate. I just don't think it's appropriate for me to traffic in rumours, particularly if I don't see how it could possibly aid your cause.”

“You'll just have to take my word for it. Unless you'd rather I asked Kar to send me someone else.” Liam raised his eyebrows significantly.

A pained look passed through Ash Bookman's eyes. He twirled the quill in his fingers, black feather spinning. “Very well.” He moistened his lips. “Two years ago, a particularly prominent family lost most of their wealth when half of their merchant fleet went down in a storm, along with valuable cargo. A most unfortunate affair. The ships' owner had borrowed heavily to secure that cargo, and it left him in . . . a delicate position.” He cleared his throat. “Happily, his friends intervened to purchase his home, leaving him with enough capital to continue his business and his career. Over time, he will buy back his estate, and I'm sure he will recover admirably.”

“Name?” Liam asked.

“Perhaps you could ask First Speaker Kar? I would rather not—”

“
Who
, Ash?”

Dark eyes met his, smouldering with resentment. “Welin,” the secretary said. “The name is Welin.” He snapped the leather-bound book shut. “Will that be all, Commander?”

Liam realised that his mouth had fallen open just a little. “Er, yes, thank you. I'll send for you later if I need anything.” Ash Bookman rose and bowed stiffly. Then he turned to Dain and said something terse in Onnani. He left them standing there in stunned silence.

“Wow,” said Ide, succinctly.

Liam closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Just to make
sure I actually heard that right—did he just say that the man we're looking for is
Defence Consul Welin
?”

“That's what I heard,” Ide said. “And something else too. What did he say to you, Dain?”

The Onnani knight frowned at the empty doorway. “He said,
I want no part of this.
I'm not sure what he meant.”

Liam had bigger worries. “Welin. Didn't see that coming. In a way, it makes sense.”

“But in another way,” said Rona, “it doesn't.”

Liam looked at her grimly. He had the distinct feeling she was about to rip a huge, gaping hole in his sails.

He was right. “If what Ash told us is true,” she said, “Welin was out of immediate financial danger. And he's the heir apparent to First Speaker Kar. Why endanger all that to throw in with the enemy?”

A good point. As a motive for treason, it did seem a little weak. “On top of which,” Liam said, “he's the sodding
defence consul
.”

“You said he'd need access,” Ide pointed out.

“But he has
too much
access,” Rona said. “He's the obvious one to blame, politically if nothing else. If there were anything to catch him on, surely his enemies would have found it already.”

His enemies . . .

Liam felt something drain from him then, like iron leaking from his spine. “I get it.” He nodded, jaw twitching in anger. “I get it now.”

Rona sighed. She understood, though her fellow officers hadn't caught on yet.

“Sorry, Commander,” said Dain. “Get what?”

Reaching into an inside pocket, Liam drew out a scroll and tossed it on the table. “Chairman Irtok. Worker's Alliance, priest of Olan.
A Shield, fittingly.
”

“And a strong contender for leader of the Alliance,” Rona added.

“A rival of Kar's,” Liam said, “or at least he was. But Kar has done his two terms as first speaker. So now”—he pointed at the scroll—“he's a rival of Welin's.”

“And it was the Shield that gave you the information,” Dain said, understanding dawning. “Awfully convenient. With Welin
out of the way, they'd be sure of having one of their brothers at the helm of the league.”

“And well placed to be first speaker next year,” Rona finished.

Liam shook his head. He'd been caught. Thrown a shiny bit of bait, and he'd taken it, hook and all. And now Ash Bookman was on his way back to First Speaker Kar, with news that the nosy Prince of Alden suspected his right-hand man of treason. Liam wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he never saw Ash, or the first speaker, again.

For a handful of hours, there'd been wind in his sails. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely useless after all. So much for that.

I sure hope you're sweeping King Omaïd off his feet, Erik
, he thought bitterly.
Because I have a feeling we won't be seeing a fleet anytime soon.

*   *   *

Liam sat with
his chin propped on his knuckles, composing a letter in his head. He'd left off actually writing them days ago. He felt pathetic enough without Alix arriving in Ost to find a library's worth of her husband's whinging. Frankly, the less she knew about his time here, the better. He didn't need her reading a blow-by-blow account of his failures, especially not with Erik's smooth diplomacy to contrast it against, to prove how very
wanting
Liam was in comparison with his regal brother. He couldn't have that, but he did miss confiding in her, terribly. So he sat on his balcony, gazed out at the glittering darkness, and wrote to her in his head.

A knock sounded softly behind him. Rudi sprang to his feet, growling. “Down,” Liam said, waving the wolfhound away. Surprisingly, Rudi obeyed.

“Commander.” Rona Brown carried a jug and a pair of cups. “I thought you might need a drink.”

“Is it the kind that melts your brain and leaves you a drooling idiot?”

She smiled. “I don't think so.”

“Pity.” He stood aside to let her in.

“Nice,” she said, scanning his chambers.

“It's nicer outside.” He crooked his neck, showing her to the balcony.

Rona closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the salt air. “You're right, it is nice. I wish I had one of these off my room. The rose window is exquisite.” She traced a finger along the fine lead bones of the stained glass.

“Throws some terrifying shadows on the floor, though, let me tell you. Here, let me get that.” Liam took the jug. “Wouldn't be very gallant of me to let you pour.”

She laughed and settled onto the stone bench overlooking the valley. “Since when do I need gallantry?”

“Every woman needs gallantry now and then.” He handed her a cup of wine. “Even if she could kill you with her bare hands.”

“I doubt I could kill anyone with my bare hands. Least of all you.”

“Yes, I'm quite formidable.” It came out more acerbic than he'd intended.

“You are,” she said, gazing up at him. The wind carried a slip of hair across her face, catching it on the corner of her mouth. She had her father's eyes, Liam decided, round and dark, with a slumbering fierceness that threatened to flame to life at any moment.

He sank down on the bench beside her. “Sorry. I'm not sulking, really.” A grin found its way onto his face. “Well. Maybe a
bit
.”

“A little sulking is all right, under the circumstances.”

Liam sighed. “I fell for it completely. Everything the Shield fed me. All those carefully dropped hints, the
oh-dear-I've-said-too-much
act. I wanted so badly to believe I was finally on to something.”

Rona nodded, sipped her wine. The tendril of hair still hugged the curve of her jaw; Liam resisted the urge to brush it away. “Anyone would have fallen for it, at least at first.”

Erik wouldn't have
, Liam thought.
Alix wouldn't have.
After all the ruthless politicking on display here, they would have known to question the information they'd been given. To look for the angle. They'd most likely have found it too, before burning their bridges with the first speaker of the Republicana.
Not
you, though, you great sap.
“This just isn't me,” he muttered into his cup.