The Crown of the Conqueror (48 page)

  "What are you doing in my room?" Allenya said, pulling a blanket over her body.

  "Anglhan has betrayed Ullsaard." Noran spoke quickly but quietly, trying to keep calm. "He is keeping you in the city as protection against Ullsaard's retaliation."

  Allenya ran her fingers through her hair, raking it back from her face, her expression half-asleep.

  "What was that about Anglhan?" she said. She looked more closely at the man in her bedchamber. "And why are you dressed so badly?"

  Noran stood and emptied the clothes from the sack onto the bed.

  "You do not realise it, but Anglhan is using you as hostages against your husband," Noran said, stepping to the door. "We have to leave here as soon as we can, and get out of the city. Please, get dressed in these clothes and then get Meliu to do the same. Your maid is organising a means by which we can get out of here unseen."

  "Wait." Allenya's call stopped Noran as he was about to leave. He turned back, one foot on the landing. "Anglhan has been very hospitable to us. Are you sure?"

  "Ullsaard himself told me so," said Noran.

  He saw the look of confusion that would herald more questions and decided to avoid them, moving onto the landing to close the door behind him. Laasinia was still waiting close by.

  "Any luck with a wagon?" the noble asked.

  "I've sent a lad to fetch one," she said. "He'll bring it up to the gate. How will you get on it without being seen?"

  Noran thought about this for a while, hearing the sounds of Allenya moving around through the door.

  "We will not try to hide," he said. "Find something that would look normal to load and move, a piece of furniture or something. We will just carry it out and climb on board with it."

  "Why would two maids be moving furniture?" asked Laasinia.

  "Think of something else, then," snapped Noran. The surge of strength that had propelled him so far was leeching away, leaving his limbs trembling and his head aching. "Use your head, woman."

  Laasinia bobbed demurely and disappeared down the stairs. Noran leaned back against the wall, his hunger returning, his muscles twitching with the effort. On the floor below, a small bell tinkled to signal the start of Dawnwatch. More distant bells and calls could be heard from across the waking city. Noran fretted, gnawing at an overly long nail, fearing that they were taking too much time. Anglhan was no fool. He had chosen not to jail his hostages, probably for fear of provoking attention, but he would have the movements of Allenya and Meliu watched closely so that they could be prevented from leaving the city, even if innocent and ignorant of their predicament. The more people on the streets, the harder it would be to avoid attention.

  Noran was chewing down a third nail by the time Allenya's door opened. She walked out garbed in the clothes of a maid, her face showing her full displeasure.

  "I demand a proper explanation Noran," she said.

  "Please, Allenya, keep your voice down," Noran replied. "It is very complicated. All you have to know is that Anglhan does not want you to leave Magilnada; he has made threats against you to Ullsaard. Your husband is less than a day from the city. I am going to take you to him."

  "Ullsaard is near?" the prospect brightened Allenya's mood substantially and her further questions went unasked. "Really?"

  "Yes, really," said Noran, trying not to sigh in frustration. "Please, take the other clothes, get Meliu dressed and we will leave the house. Make sure she causes no fuss."

  "Wait here," said Allenya, heading to the other end of the landing. "You cannot be seen."

  Noran bit back a retort about stating the obvious. He could hear Laarisia's voice from the bottom of the stairs, but could not make out everything that was said; something about the mistresses desiring not to be disturbed this morning until Low Watch. A wonderful woman, Noran thought, entirely deserving of some extra Askharins for her loyalty.

  He lowered to the floor to sit with his back against the wall, resting his head in his hands in an effort the ease the throbbing at his temples. There was soreness in his chest and he lifted up his shirt and saw a jagged scar. No wonder every breath hurt.

  "Shit," he muttered. He could barely remember anything of how he had been wounded. He recalled some soldiers trying to kill Ullsaard in camp and shouting a warning. The rest was all blurred.

  A door banged open and he looked up to see Meliu dashing along the landing. He pushed himself to his feet and was almost toppled again as Meliu threw her arms around him with a gasp, the two of them saved from a tumble only by the wall.

  "Oh, Noran!" Meliu gushed, kissing his cheek and neck ferociously.

  "Hello," he said weakly, pushing her away.

  Her brows furrowed, cheeks reddened and lips pouted. Recognising the signs of an impending outburst, Noran did the only thing he could think of to quieten her; her grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a long kiss.

  "Save that for later," said Allenya, hurrying to the top of the stairs.

  Meliu pulled back with another shuddering breath, eyes moist.

  "Allenya tells me we are in trouble and you have come back to rescue us!" she said. "You are so brave!"

  Noran darted a look at Allenya, who shrugged in confession.

  "Come on," said Noran, grabbing Meliu's hand. She squeezed it tight, painfully so in Noran's weak condition.

  The nobleman led them down the stairs and found Laasinia sitting with some needlework on a chair in the hall below. She put the sewing to one side as they arrived.

  "I have sent the other servants to clean the main feast room," she said, ushering Allenya towards the foyer. She looked at Noran. "Can you drive the wagon, or should I fetch one of the men?"

  "I will do my best," said Noran, though he knew he was an inexpert teamster. "Rather that than risking the confidence of anyone else."

  They hurried out into the courtyard, the flags still damp from overnight rain. Noran let go of Meliu to move ahead and open one of the gates. On the road outside a single abada stood patiently before its wagon, chewing on its leather bit, horn rope in the hand of a boy no more than ten years old.

  "Take these," said Laasinia, ducking into a small storage shed at one side of the yard. She emerged with woven baskets. "Put them on the wagon and climb in."

  "Try to act normal," Noran added in a whisper. "Do not look like you are hurrying."

  Meliu grinned impishly and grabbed a basket before strutting out into the street. Allenya and Laasinia followed with their own burdens, leaving Noran to pull himself up to the board.

  "Get yourself inside, and have something to eat," he called to the boy, who bobbed his head, tied the abada's rope through the yoke and scampered back into the yard.

  The nobleman sat looking at the back of the abada, unsure what to do. He glanced around and saw a long switch hanging in a loop of rope on the side of the wagon. He pulled it free and tapped the abada on the shoulder with its tip.

  "Move," he said.

  The abada did nothing.

  Noran tried again with the switch, slapping it against the beast's hindquarters.

  "Get on," he said. "Move!"

  "Give it a proper crack," he heard Allenya say from, the back of the cart. "Use your wrist, man."

  "Right, you big, grey bastard," Noran snarled. "You will not ignore me this time."

  He brought the switch back over his shoulder and then flicked it down as hard as he could. With a crack, he smacked against the abada's ribs. The beast gave a pained snort and leaned into the yoke, the wagon lurching forward over the cobbles of the road. There were cries of discomfort from behind as the cart's occupants were bumped around and Noran almost fell off the driving board.

  He snatched up the yoke ropes in his free hand as the abada settled down into a fast walk. The wheels clattered like thunderclaps in the dawn quiet. Noran winced every time they bounced over a hole or mound in the street. The grand houses of merchants and nobles passed by on each side, peeking over stuccoed walls and ornately carved gates.

  They were almost at the end of the street when Noran realised he did not know which way to turn; or for that matter, how to turn. The quickest route would be to the right, along the main thoroughfare that wound down the Hill of Chiefs and to the avenue that led to the city gate. It would also be getting busy with the pre-market traffic; better to turn left and go around by the wall, he decided.

  Coming to the junction, he hauled back on the left-hand rope, turning the abada's head. The creature came to a stop, the traces and harness bunching as the front of the wagon rolled into its rear end. Noran tugged to the left again, and applied the switch lightly to the stubborn creature's shoulder. The combination worked as the abada heaved into the yoke again, turning to the left.

  A short distance and a more accomplished turn later and the wagon was moving along the muddy road that lined the outer wall of Magilnada. The wall loomed up on the right, various craft shops, tanneries and mills in its lee. Guards patrolled overhead, paying no attention to what was going on within the city.

  "That was not so hard," Noran said over his shoulder. "We should be at the gate well before the ring of the next hour."

  "Just watch what you are doing," Allenya replied. "Keep an eye on the road."

  "Bloody women," he muttered under his breath.

 

The street was quickly filling with people, visible to Allenya through the opening in the back of the wagon. Most were traders, with baskets on their backs or pulling handcarts laden with their wares or tools. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. She sat on the boards of the cart leaning against the side, Laasinia beside her, Meliu opposite. Her sister had a wideeyed expression of excitement; no doubt imagining this dismal exit from Magilnada as part of some romantic adventure.

  Picking at the hem of her rough dress, Allenya cursed herself for being so naive. Ullsaard had warned her against Anglhan's manipulation, but she had allowed herself to be talked into staying; she had all but volunteered to become a hostage. Luia would not have made the same mistake.

  She turned her mind to other matters as soon as her thoughts tended towards the strange nature of Noran's recovery. It was best not to think about it too much. Instead, she focussed on her husband, happy to know that he was well. She pictured some of the best times they had shared, imagining their reunion, but try as she might, Allenya kept being drawn back into feelings of shame at the mess she had made of things. She had allowed herself to be manipulated and that had made Ullsaard vulnerable.

  He was king now and she was a queen, and that entailed a different approach to life. Allenya and her sisters came from Askhan nobility, and there had always been an undercurrent of domestic politics; her world had changed and only now was she realising just how much.

  She heard someone calling Noran's name from the street and tensed. Moving to the front of the cart, she tugged at a knotted rope and pulled a small gap in the covering. Peering through, she saw a man dressed in a fur-collared coat hurrying towards the wagon, a gaggle of servants behind.

  "Hey!" he cried out. "Hey Noran!"

  "Who is he?" whispered Allenya. "Ignore him"

  Noran said nothing, snapping the switch against the abada to keep it moving. The stranger hurried through the puddles on the street and fell in beside the driving board. Allenya pulled back to avoid being seen but could still see the man through the parting in the awning. The man's face seemed familiar, but she could not place from where.

  "Noran, it's Haastin, Haastin Kasvha!"

  The name meant nothing either.

  "You are mistaken," growled Noran.

  "No, surely not," said Kasvha, laying a hand on the side of the cart as he walked alongside. "Noran Aaluns, that's you. Everybody thought you were dead."

  "Not me," Noran replied.

  "Oh, I see, keeping out of the way, are you? All of those stories about you dashing off with Ullsaard and getting yourself killed are just a cover, eh?"

  "You are mistaken," said Noran, shifting uncomfortably.

  "Look here, don't take me for an idiot," barked Kasvha. "I've had dealings with your father for years. Don't know why you're pretending not to know me, but it isn't flattering to you, let me say."

  Allenya heard Noran sigh and his body obscured her view as he leaned over.

  "Look, take the hint," snapped the nobleman. "My business is my business!"

  "Odd business it is too," replied Kasvha. "Don't you have men to drive carts for you? Fallen on hard times? Or is it something a bit more… clandestine. Come on, you can trust me."

  "Please go away," insisted Noran. "Look, people are starting to pay attention. I shall send you a letter, I promise."

  "A letter? I should be so favoured. I'm sorry to intrude."

  Noran sat up and Allenya saw Kasvha backing away, hands on hips. The cart trundled on for a short way before she heard Noran lean back to whisper.

  "There were a couple of men that hared off up into the city as soon as my name was mentioned," he said. "It could be nothing, but I would rather not take chances."

  "What do you suggest?" replied Allenya. "Should we leave the wagon?"

  "That might be a good idea," said Noran. "I will keep an eye out for a yard to pull into."

  A wheel dipped into a pothole, jarring Allenya against the boards. Their passage was getting rockier, a sign that they were on the less maintained roads of the lower city.

  "How far?" she asked.

  Noran did not reply, but he gave a grunt, presumably pulling back hard on the reins. The wagon creaked to a halt.