The Godspeaker Trilogy (88 page)

What is Rudi of Arbat doing with his time and soldiery, that men like this can wander the byways of his duchy in freedom? My duchy, for he only holds it in trust for me … and my people. A trust that’s been shattered if this is allowed.

“Thank you, Zandakar,” she said. “You’ve done the Crown a great service.”

“A service?” Helfred’s voice behind her sounded thin and frightened. “Are you mad? This is murder .”

She turned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Murder was doubtless what they had in mind. This was justice. Rough. I’ll grant you. But if they’d not raised their hands to us they’d still be breathing.”

The sight of so much blood had leached the colour from Helfred’s face. In dying, the footpads had soiled themselves. The stink of it hung on the cool evening air.

“I am not ridiculous,” he protested. “Zandakar could have saved us without killing them! Without spilling their insides over the road!”

“Could he?” Her nerves still thrummed from what she’d witnessed. His speed … his pure mastery … the perfection of his violence … “I’m afraid I don’t see how, given he was outnumbered six to one. Perhaps you could instruct him, Helfred. Give him a few pointers from your vast store of experience.”

Helfred closed his mouth with a snap.

“Well,” said Ursa, breaking the tense silence, “at least we know now what his hotas are for.”

They certainly did. If I study them for long enough will I be able to do this too? She looked at Helfred again.

“Chaplain, I don’t revel in bloodshed any more than you. But these men had no good intentions. If they had not attacked us they would’ve attacked someone else. Perhaps they already have. We were lucky, we had Zandakar to defend us. Other peddlers, other innocent travellers, they’re not so fortunate. These footpads had to be stopped.”

“As you say,” said Helfred woodenly.

She turned away from him, afraid her temper would get the better of prudence. “Mr Jones? Dexterity?”

He’d not said a word, just stood with the frightened horses, his kerchief pressed to Priddy’s stone-wound. His gaze was fixed on Zandakar as though he’d never seen him before.

In a way he hasn’t. None of us have. And now that he’s revealed to us … what does it mean?

A
s though waking from a dream, Dexterity stirred. Tucked the bloodied kerchief into his pocket and left the horses, walking towards Zandakar as though they were alone.

“Jones!” said Ursa.

Rhian took the physick’s arm. “No. It’s all right. Dexterity is safe, I’m sure of it.”

“Really? I’m not!”

“Ursa,” she said, and tightened her fingers. “He’s safe.”

“And if he’s not,” said Helfred under his breath, “how do you imagine you’ll be able to help him?”

Zandakar was watching Dexterity approach, his face as calm now as it had been while he was killing. “Dexterity. Priddy all right?”

Halting in front of him, Dexterity stared up into his peaceful blue eyes. “Priddy is fine. Are you? Were you hurt?”

Zandakar shook his head. “Wei.”

“Good. Zandakar, I don’t see—did you have to kill all of them?”

Now Zandakar looked baffled. He said something in his own tongue, then frowned. “Tcha. Wei words.” He nodded at the corpses strewn at his feet. “Bad men. Zho? ”

“ Zho . They were bad.”

Zandakar shrugged. “Bad men die.”

“Perhaps where you come from,” said Dexterity. His voice sounded ragged. “Wherever that is. But in Ethrea, Zandakar, we have a rule of law. We don’t kill bad men out of hand. We give them to the duke’s soldiers and they are put in prison. They’re not—not butchered like hogs. They were bad, but they were men.”

Zandakar was looking at Dexterity so intently. “You are angry.”

“No!” said Dexterity, and pressed a hand to his head. “Not angry. Not exactly. But Zandakar …”

Rhian stepped forward. Time to remember who is queen, I think . “No one is angry, Zandakar. You did the right thing.” She swept the others with a cold hard look. “No more complaints or criticisms, thank you. If you must say anything, make it a grateful prayer that Zandakar was here. We’d be dead in the ditch, else.”

“Prayer is a good idea,” said Helfred, subdued. “I must speak for the souls of these poor misguided—”

“Not now,” she said. “We have to put some distance between us and this place before we settle for the night.”

“You mean to leave them?” said Helfred. “Lying in their gore, unsanctified?”

“I suppose you’d like to put them in the van?”

“No, but we should bury them at least! They may have been wicked but—”

“We can’t bury them, Chaplain,” said Ursa, tiredly. “Someone will have to see their faces. They may have families needing to be told. And we can’t take them with us.”

“She’s right,” Rhian said flatly. “Let someone local find them and send word to this district’s sheriff. We can’t get involved. We have to go.”

Helfred looked close to tears. “Your Highness—”

She touched his shoulder. “I’ve made my decision. Abide by it, Chaplain.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” he whispered.

Against her will she felt a wave of compassion for him. Poor Helfred. You should’ve stayed in the clerica. Or better yet in Kingseat. See what you get for meddling in my life?

“Please allow me a moment, Your Highness,” he added. “A few words … it won’t take long. I cannot leave these poor souls without—”

“Yes, yes, all right. But quickly!”

“Ursa—” Dexterity turned to the physick. “Do you have some ointment for Priddy’s face? It’s a nasty cut, that rock caught him just below the eye.”

As Helfred prayed over the bodies and Dexterity and Ursa saw to the injured horse, Zandakar retrieved the rest of the slain footpads’ weapons and wiped the worst of the blood off them on the damp grass beside the road. The last dusklight had faded completely. The glow from the torches burnished his dark skin and gleamed on the scarlet splashes on his face, arms and clothes.

Watching him, Rhian shook her head. He doesn’t even notice. If I had that much blood on me I’d be screaming for a bathtub .

Zandakar finished cleaning the knives and swords. One of each he set aside for himself. Then he selected a second knife, a wickedly sharp dagger, and held it out to her.

“Take. For hotas . Rhian is ready to dance with a knife.”

She hesitated, staring at it. The dead sprawled around them, rebuked in their sin. Ready to do this? Oh Zandakar, I don’t think so …

She’d held fencing foils before and, laughing, tried to stab her father through the heart. But that was frivolous swordplay. That was exercise, it wasn’t war. A heart touch meant winning a contest, not washing yourself free of someone else’s blood. Not watching them die because you’d killed them.

“Rhian,” said Zandakar. His pale blue eyes were serious. “Take knife. For hotas .”

She took the dagger. Her hand was shaking. “I’ve never thought of killing anyone,” she whispered. “I’ve never had to. There are no warriors in Ethrea, Zandakar. We have no wars. We’re a kingdom of peace.”

Now his eyes were derisive. “Tcha. Zho warriors. Rhian warrior. Rhian dance hotas .”

If I keep this dagger … if I learn to dance his hotas with it … will I stay the person I am now? I’m not a warrior queen. I’m not any kind of queen, not yet. Not ever if Marlan has his way. How far must I travel from myself, to put a crown on my head? Must I kill to make myself queen? Oh, Papa. What would you say? What would you do?

Her fingers closed tight around the dagger’s bone hilt. Staring at its clean, sharp edge she took a deep breath, and another. Then she looked at the dead men lying at her feet.

“Zandakar … how many men have you killed like this?”

He shook his head. “ Wei remember. Yatzhay .”

Yatzhay, yatzhay . Always yatzhay . She thought he was lying. She thought he didn’t want to say. All right. Let him keep that secret, for now. But I’ll ask him again. I will have an answer. I must have an answer. I need to know .

Helfred, his prayers done with, joined them. He wouldn’t look at Zandakar. “Highness, he should bathe and change his clothes before we go. He can’t sit around covered in blood like that.”

She nodded. “He will. And you can help me with these weapons.”

“What?” Helfred stepped back. “You mean to keep —”

“We’ve a distance to travel yet before we reach duchy Linfoi!” Rollin give her patience, the man could rile her like no-one else. “And we can’t assume these are the only footpads we’ll meet. Perhaps we can avoid further bloodshed if we show the world we’re not to be trifled with!”

“Oh,” said Helfred. “I see. Perhaps that’s not an unreasonable viewpoint.”

“Well thank you, Chaplain. I’m sure I’ll sleep perfectly tonight knowing you approve.”

“Highness—”

She stabbed him with a look, not a dagger, even though the thought was wickedly tempting. “Oh, no more, Helfred! I’ve endured enough for one night!”

Wisely he held his tongue after that, even when she slid her new dagger through her belt. Leaving Zandakar to wash in water from the supply barrel, she and Helfred carried the booty of weapons back to the van. He left her alone, then, to take clean clothes to Zandakar, and she stowed the knives and swords safely out of sight.

“There you are,” said Ursa, and closed the hinged door behind her. “You all right?”

“I’m fine. How’s Priddy?”

“He’s a horse. He’ll live,” said Ursa, perching on the bench. “You’re quite certain you’re all right? That’s a lot of blood to see in one place if you’re not used to it.”

Rhian retreated to her sleeping-shelf. Slid the dagger out of her belt, to avoid an accident, and pretended to be terribly interested in its hilt. “And you are?”

“I’ve patched up my share of brawls down at the harbour. Foreign sailors don’t always play nice.”

“I’m sure they don’t.” She waited for Ursa to say something about the dagger. When she didn’t, she held it up. “Zandakar says I should start training with this.”

“And what do you say?”

She slid the dagger under her pillow. “I say he’s probably right. There might be more footpads between here and duchy Linfoi.”

“And that’s what you’re upset about, isn’t it? Bad men in your realm,” said Ursa. She settled herself more comfortably on the bench. “You’re wondering if it’s your fault. If they only dare to attack innocent folk because there’s no king in Ethrea. Because instead of marrying to make one you’ve decided to crown yourself queen.”

Yes, but how does she know that? Can she read minds as well as pick herbs and dry liverberries? “You think I shouldn’t concern myself?”

Ursa snorted. “Of course you should. That’s what being queen means, girl. Always wondering. Always worrying. You accuse Helfred of being sheltered and maybe he is. Was. But the same thing can be said of you. Growing up in your castle. Spoilt darling of a king and two princes.”

That hurt. “I’m not spoilt! If you want to see spoilt I’ll introduce you to some of the court ladies! Vacuous, empty-headed, caring for nothing but their jewels and their sweeties and giving orders to servants! Violetta Dester, and the rest of her ilk! All right, it’s true, I never wanted for anything, but that doesn’t make me spoilt . I’ll have you know I worked hard to be educated. I hosted important dinners and parties for the king three times a week at least! I—”

“I’m not saying you never lifted a finger,” said Ursa. “I’m sure you worked very hard to be a princess your father and brothers could be proud of. But it’s not the same.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she demanded, still stinging. “Do you think I don’t know how ignorant I am of the world? I’ve never left Ethrea. Of course I’m ignorant. And I tried to remedy that, I begged to be let go with Ranald and Simon!”

“Then it’s a good thing your papa said no, isn’t it?” said Ursa quietly. “Or you’d likely be buried beside him and your brothers, and what kind of a pickle would Ethrea be in then?”

Suddenly exhausted, Rhian lay down. “What kind are we in now?” She stifled a shiver. “Those footpads …”

“Made their choices,” said Ursa, shrugging. “Just like you’ve made yours. Rhian, Ethrea’s our home and we love it and that’s proper. But that’s not to say the place is perfect. It’s got good folk and bad folk like everywhere else. And the only reason the bad folk don’t get the upper hand is because the good folk don’t let them. They see a weed, they pluck it out. They don’t let it grow and seed and spread itself further till all the flowers are choked and dead.”

She smiled, despite herself. “So if I want to be queen I should think like a gardener?”

“Or a physick,” said Ursa. “To keep the body healthy sometimes you have to lose a little flesh.”

The van’s hinged doors swung open again and Helfred climbed inside, carrying the empty water bucket and Zandakar’s stained clothes. He dropped them in a corner then took his customary place on the far end of the bench. He looked distressed. The van creaked, moving again. The little hatch in the wall slid open.

“We’re on our way,” said Dexterity. “I say we travel another hour then find somewhere to stop for the night. An hour should put enough distance between us and those bodies.”

Rhian sat up. “Agreed. Where’s Zandakar?”

“He’s walking ahead again … just in case.”

With a knife and a sword, for their protection. “Good.” She pulled her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. “That’s good.”

The hatch in the wall slid shut and they continued in silence.

They met no more footpads. Nearly an hour and a half later they stopped for the night, in a small clearing by the side of the road. At dawn Rhian woke and joined Zandakar for their hotas .

It felt dangerous to be dancing them with a knife. Trying to mimic him, she dropped the dagger many times. From the corner of her eye she saw him smiling. His eyes were laughing at her. He thought her amusing. She couldn’t believe how deftly he handled his blade. It was like part of his body, silver flesh and edged bone. It didn’t look deadly, it looked beautiful as he danced.

But then she remembered. The dagger slipped from her fingers. Panting, sweating, she stood beneath the slow-climbing sun.

Blood spurting. Men screaming. Men howling as they died.