The Dawn Star (28 page)

Firaz gave a curmudgeonly laugh. “You insult me so nicely. All right. I won't go muck up your negotiations.”

Although Jade managed a smile, she felt anything but light. Maybe Cobalt had never intended to negotiate. The envoy could have been meant as no more than a distraction. Tomorrow he might seek to end her reign—but she would die before she surrendered her throne.

D
rummer slipped into Vim's night-dark stall, his feet rustling in the hay, and the Jazidian neighed.

“Didn't know if you would want to see me again,” Drummer said in a low voice. He offered Vim a piece of apple, and the horse munched away.

It took a while to saddle the horse, but he managed. He pulled up the hood of his jacket, then walked Vim across the yard outside the stable, their way lit by pale moonlight. A few workers were around, and a light-bringer came forward with a lamp swinging on his pole. Drummer held up his hand, declining the assistance.

Within moments, he was cantering through the town of Sun's Breadth that surrounded the citadel. He shared the cobbled lanes with scattered pedestrians on night business, even with a few other riders. Enough people were about that his passing elicited little notice. He approached the gate in the city wall amidst the bustle of arguing shop owners and their helpers, and the tower guards let him through as part of that group.

Outside, the merchants went about setting up a market near the city walls, for tomorrow. With the army in the Rocklands, and soldiers going up and down the mountain, businesses in the town were thriving. The merchants kept their impromptu market close to the wall, however, so they could quickly retreat into the protected town if hostilities erupted among the armies.

Alone, Drummer took Vim down the mountain. The well-worn path would come out in the Rocklands along the Saint Verdant River, the line of green he had struggled to reach during his first escape attempt. Tonight, he would succeed. This time he would ride right past the Taka Mal army. He knew many details about them. In fact, he had heard nothing else for the past few days. He could evade most of their sentries and posts. For those he couldn't, he knew the passwords and expected behavior, and he even had the same type of horse used by Taka Mal officers. He didn't expect anyone to stop him. But beyond that? Ozar's men were patrolling the border; to reach Cobalt's army, Drummer had to get past them.

He understood why Jade and her advisors didn't want him going with the envoy at dawn. Their plans were logical. Knowing Cobalt through Mel, however, Drummer understood him in a different light. Cobalt needed to see Drummer to believe he was all right. More importantly, he needed to see
Mel,
or have tangible proof of her situation. If Drummer could verify Jade had no connection to Mel's disappearance, he felt certain Cobalt would listen. But that was a leap of faith neither Jade nor her commanders were willing to make, especially given how few times Drummer had actually met the Midnight King. He understood that. But they were wrong. If he could reach Cobalt, he had a chance to stop this madness.

Unfortunately, he had to get through the Jazid lines first. Ozar's men might capture him. He had a plan for that, too. A good plan—if it worked. If he didn't lose his nerve. If he could convince Jade to go along with him at the necessary time.
If, if if.

Cobalt or Ozar: Either way, Drummer would soon face one of the most formidable warlords among the settled lands.

The atajazid had yet to sleep, though midnight had come and passed. Ozar paced in his tent. He still heard the words of the messenger from Taka Mal who had come today:
Cobalt threatens to attack at sunrise.
The business with Kaj had not gone as well as Ozar hoped, for Cobalt had given Vizarana time to produce his wife. It would have worked better had Kaj delivered the queen's body, but she lay buried under tons of rubble. Although it would take time to dig out the remains of the people killed in that collapse, Ozar would have it done when this was all settled, not for the Chamberlight queen, but to honor Shade, who had been Ozar's confidant, loyal servant, and friend.

Regardless, Vizarana had trouble. Unless she convinced Cobalt that she had nothing to do with his wife's death, he would invade Taka Mal. It would be a crime for him to take the Topaz Throne. Ozar faced a difficult choice: Join with Vizarana or face Cobalt on his own.

The Jazid army was nearly five thousand strong and he could add another thousand in a year's time. They were well trained. Fighting in the desert and the Jagged Teeth Mountains would be easy for them and new to the Chamberlight army. They could, conceivably, defeat Cobalt. But if Cobalt took Taka Mal, he would gain what remained of their forces. Chances were he would massacre them, if he believed they had tortured his wife to death, but no certainties existed in that. Although Ozar had a chance to defeat the Chamberlight king, Cobalt could end up with the Onyx Throne, and that would truly be a perversion of nature.

Ozar knew if he supported Vizarana, they had a good chance of defeating Cobalt. Jazid could reabsorb Shazire, perhaps even the Misted Cliffs. It was a worthy goal, and he would take satisfaction in vanquishing this conqueror. And who knew, maybe Drummer Headwind would do everyone a favor and die in the fighting. Then Ozar wouldn't have to have him assassinated.

Damn Vizarana. He couldn't fathom why she had married that boy. Drummer was no match for her. She would walk all over him. She had been a fool, and she deserved to pay a price for her betrayal.

A rustle came from the entrance of his tent. “Sire?”

Ozar recognized the voice: General Dusk, his top advisor since Shade's death. But no one could replace Shade. The late scribe had looked after Ozar in the atajazid's childhood, a confidant when Ozar's parents gave him no outlet for his dreams or nightmares. Shade had followed him with loyalty, always at his side. Now he was dead. Ozar didn't know why the tower had collapsed. The queen had died, too, but it was paltry revenge, for she had to die anyway. He had no one to exact vengeance on except her husband.

“Sire, shall I return later?” Dusk asked.

“No.” Ozar mentally shook himself. Then he went to the entrance and pulled aside the flap. “What is it?”

Dusk stood outside in his rough-hewn sleep clothes. “My apologies for the disturbance. You have a visitor.”

“So late?” Ozar frowned at him. “Who is it?”

Dusk cleared his throat. “Drummer Headwind Quaazera.”

Ozar stared at him for a good five seconds. Then he murmured, “Well, well. Bring him in.”

Dusk bowed with the deference of a general for his commander rather than the subservience expected from the lesser officers. It was appropriate for his station, but it felt strange to Ozar. Shade's reverence had always had a pointed quality that kept Ozar alert. He had been the only one who could respond to the atajazid in that manner; Ozar would accept it from no one else.

Ozar walked across the tent to a table, his manner deceptively casual, his shirt open at the neck. The flap rustled and he heard footsteps. Ozar knew it looked as if he were presenting his back to the people coming inside, but he was preternaturally aware of them and able to judge whether or not they posed him a risk, at least in the physical sense. He turned to see Dusk standing by the entrance, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The other man wasn't as tall. He wore a jacket lined with rich Kazlatarian fur, with the hood pulled up to hide his face. Ozar knew him anyway.

“You may wait outside,” Ozar told Dusk.

The general bowed. “Yes, Sire.”

As Dusk withdrew, Drummer pulled down his hood. He looked like an expensive item Vizarana had bought, with that exotic hair and his rich clothes, which she had undoubtedly given him. No common entertainer could afford such lavish garments, not only the jacket, but also the suede trousers and boots. That she might dally with such a toy, Ozar understood. He didn't approve of women having that freedom, but Vizarana was no child and she had ruled Taka Mal for nearly a decade. But why the flaming sun had she married him? Ozar didn't believe for one moment Drummer had the blessing of the Dragon-Sun. This whole business stunk to the mountains.

Drummer spoke wryly. “Judging from your expression, I take it you find me offensive.”

“Oh, you're fine.” Ozar waved his hand in dismissal. “It's your new title I find offensive.” He went to a table and poured wine from a copper flask into a pair of tin cups. He didn't believe in taking luxury items to the battlefield, whether they be goldware, crystal flasks, or expensive consorts.

He offered Drummer a cup. “Care to drink?” He smiled darkly. “Pity I didn't poison it. I could be rid of you then.”

His visitor didn't laugh. Ozar wasn't even certain it was a joke. Although Drummer came forward, he didn't take the cup.

Ozar set the second cup back on the table. “What do you want, Headwind?”

“Cobalt is going to invade Taka Mal tomorrow.” He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “He says his wife is gone. Without Mel he is—a difficult man.”

“My sympathies. It looks as if your status as consort will last a total of three days. Pity.” With malice, he added, “Unless Escar likes boys. You're certainly pretty enough.”

“What is it with you all here?” Drummer seemed more puzzled than offended. “You think having darker hair and more height makes you more masculine?”

“No.” Ozar had to admit the fellow had courage. “I think being a man makes me masculine.” He sipped his wine. “So why are you here?”

“To offer a bargain.”

“And what sort of bargain might that be?”

“Support Vizarana tomorrow and I will annul the marriage.”

Ozar narrowed his gaze. “How?”

“I married her under false pretenses. I'm a commoner.” Bitterly he added, “Apparently in Taka Mal, that is enough to dissolve the union.”

“What false pretenses? She knew what you were.”

“Not if I claim otherwise.” Drummer's face clenched. “I will swear it under oath.”

“I suppose it might work,” Ozar mused. “Everyone would know you were lying. But if you ‘confessed' in a tribunal, they would have to annul your marriage.”

“I have one condition.”

“Do you now?”

Drummer dug his hands deeper into his pockets. Although Ozar had thought the jacket was gold-hued, he realized now it had a green tinge around the pockets. Odd that.

“My condition is this,” Drummer said. “You do nothing to harm our child. If Vizarana agrees, give me the child to raise.”

It was an intelligent solution. Perhaps the fellow had some brains after all under that yellow hair. Annul the marriage and Vizarana's baby was no longer heir to the throne, which meant her first male child with Ozar would carry the title. And he knew she was fertile. If Drummer took the baby to Aronsdale, Ozar wouldn't be plagued with that reminder of Vizarana's lover.

“If I agree to this bargain,” Ozar said, “what guarantee do I have that you will uphold your part of it?”

“My word is good.”

Ozar laughed shortly. “Your word.” His voice hardened. “You will return to the citadel with a contingent of my men and tell Vizarana you have offered me this bargain, so she sees it is your idea and not coerced by me. Then my men will bring you back here, where you will be a hostage. When your part of the bargain is fulfilled, you will return to Aronsdale.”

Drummer didn't look impressed. “How do I know you won't kill me?”

Ozar set his goblet on the table. “You don't.”

“Then why should I agree?”

“Because if you don't,” Ozar said, “you and your beautiful wife are going to die tomorrow.”

Drummer's face tightened. “Cobalt will come for you next.”

Ozar shrugged. “It won't matter to you. You'll be dead.”

“Have your men guard me in the Citadel of the Dragon-Sun.”

“So Vizarana's bad-tempered cousin can kill them and let her renege on the bargain?” Ozar snorted. “I don't think so.”

Drummer shifted his hands in his pockets. “Then let her send some of her royal guards back with me.”

Ozar had to admit, the boy knew how to bargain. It was a livable compromise. He had no desire to kill when it didn't suit his purposes, and if he let Headwind live, Drummer would take the child. He regarded the young man with curiosity. “Why not go to Cobalt and give yourself up to him? That is why he came, after all. To negotiate for you.”

Drummer spoke quietly. “I would have laid my life at his feet to stop this war. But I couldn't get through. Your men caught me.”

Ozar went over to him. “So you were already my prisoner.”

“If you want to see it that way.”

“I like it that way. It solves so many problems.” He spoke briskly. “Very well. You will get your child. I will have Vizarana.” He held his hand out, palm to the ceiling, in the classic offer of a bargain. “Sealed?”

Drummer pulled his hand out of his pocket and set it palm down on Ozar's. As they clasped, Ozar felt a tingle, like a residue of power. Then it vanished, and he suspected he had imagined it. No matter. It wouldn't be long before he had far more than a residue of power. Soon he would rule an empire, for even Cobalt Escar couldn't stand against his army and Vizarana's combined.

Cobalt sat with Matthew on a log behind his tent, in the dark, with a flask in his hand and a bundle between his feet that included both Mel's bloodied clothes and the packet with the dagger and her hair. Unfortunately, the ale was having no effect on the agitation that had gripped him since he saw Mel's silks.