The Grand Crusade (7 page)

second floor. People coming in through the north entrance headed for that and up. They looked to be family groups, or slightly better dressed and moneyed than the harder bitten crowd down below. Erlestoke chose to remain on the lower floor, which had shadows enough to grant him the anonymity he craved.

He headed off along the left wall, bearing for the huge hearth in the north wall. To his right, past a tangle of tables, lay the bar, which filled the center of the floor. Benches lined much of the walls, and decorations, such as they were, featured bits of tack, odd animal skins, odder bones, and at least one vylaen head. At least, in the half-light, that’s what he made it out to be, but it could have been the head of a bear cub, albeit a strange one, with sharpened ears and a bone spur piercing the right one.

Before he got too far, he felt an iron grip banding his left arm above the elbow. His right hand jerked toward the floor, and the hilt of a dagger he had sheathed on his forearm filled it. He turned to face the person who had grabbed him, using his body to shield the dagger from sight, should its sudden employment be needed.

Resolute’s eyes half lidded. “The way you got the knife is good, but had I desired one in your kidney, you’d be thrashing on the floor right now.”

“Following me, Resolute?”

The Vorquelf shook his head, then waved his left hand at a small round table in a corner. Though the tavern was crowded, with men standing and crouching here and there, the round table had four stools available, and one half-drunk ale in a wooden tankard at the spot nearest the corner itself. “I have been here a while, but if you are going to be so careless, perhaps Ishouldbe following you.”

“May I join you?”

“Please.”

Erlestoke waited for Resolute to take his place again, then took the seat to the Vorquelf’s right, which let him rest his back against a wall. He kept his voice low. “Why am I careless?”

“Multiple reasons. Your blood makes you a target for those who thought you were dead and had planned accordingly.”

The prince smiled and waved at a barmaid. He pointed to Resolute’s ale and she nodded. “You must be joking. Cabot Marsham is the only person who could dream of succeeding my father were my brother and I dead, and my father would never leave the kingdom in his hands. Moreover, the man would not dare strike at me.”

“No, but those who back him might. You know he is weak and can be manipulated. If he were not, your father would not keep him on. While here, Marsham has met with representatives of various noble houses. Those who covet power might have been planning your father’s downfall, and your presence means their puppet would no longer be center stage.”

The Vorquelf frowned at him. “Why are you looking at me strangely?”

Erlestoke sat back and cleared his throat as the barmaid set his ale down. He tossed her a silver coin and she snatched it up quickly. He sipped the ale, then understood why so little of Resolute’s had been drunk.

“I guess what surprises me, Resolute, is your interest in Oriosan politics. Your

history being what it is, I’d not thought you interested in much more than your homeland’s liberation.“

Resolute’s face sank into a grimace and he drank some ale. That did nothing to lighten his expression. He glanced at the prince and nodded. “There was a time, Highness, when this was true, but the sword I wear has changed that. Will gave it to me. It is an ancient elven blade named Syverce. It comes from a homeland that no longer exists and is a blade of great consequence. Because it accepts me I know I have a greater duty than just the liberation of my homeland. The scourge that is Chytrine must be ended, and having you writhing in a pool of blood with an assassin’s knife in your back will be a great comfort to the enemy.” The Oriosan marveled that Resolute’s broad shoulders remained square despite the obvious pressure he felt himself under. “It’s not really Oriosan assassins you are worried about, is it? Do you think Chytrine has agents here?”

“Iknowshe has agents here. So does everyone else.” Resolute laughed wryly and swung his head to survey the crowd. “There are men here who would sell their children for the coppers off a dead man’s eyes, so taking foreign gold in exchange for information is nothing. They do not worry me as much, though, as

the ordinary folks.“

Erlestoke looked around. He saw nothing unusual in the tavern’s clientele. They might be a bit rough around the edges—though the man who vomited in a bucket that had been used to bring him beer did wipe his mouth on his sleeve with elan. To the prince’s eye they seemed quite normal, with men predominant, a few Vorquelves like Resolute, and two urZrethi women huddled nearest the fire. They had shifted the shape of their faces to make themselves purely hideous, which stopped advances by anyone on the upright side of blind drunkenness.

“I don’t see the threat here.”

“You will, once word is out. It will ooze from the confidential councils.” Resolute’s voice remained low. “The first news will be almost happenstance, reporting our arrival and the lack of our friend’s presence. I have little doubt the crowns will decide to say he’s remained on Vael. Soon enough, though, a chance remark will be overheard, or someone will decide his path to power benefits from the revelation of the death. When word gets out, hope will die for these people. Some will rally to fight, some will lose all heart, and others will be angry. Their fury will be directed against you and Crow, even Princess Alexia and me.” Erlestoke started to deny that vision, then looked at the various faces around the room again. Many were happy, laughing and almost carefree, but others were wary and watchful. Some were even nervous. The same nervousness could spark a fight because of a chance remark, or an innocent bump. The death of the Norrington could be the sort of provocation that might motivate a crowd to act

with violent intent.

“Again, I bow to your wisdom.” Erlestoke sipped ale to wash the sour taste

L

from his mouth. “So, you’ve come here to watch men and gauge their temperament?”

“No, that is merely a pastime.” The Vorquelf looked up and his eyes brightened. “I came for quarry and here it is.”

Before he’d finished speaking, Resolute was up and out of his chair. He slipped behind another figure, one almost as tall as he, wearing a dark cloak. Though Resolute crowded in tight behind the person, Erlestoke did catch the flash of a dagger pressed to the back of the cloak.Right over where the kidney would be on a man.

The cloaked figure bowed his head, then turned and joined them at the table. Resolute snapped something in Elvish and the other Vorquelf male, with long black hair and bright blue eyes, took a chair that left his back open to the rest of the common room.

Resolute sat again and smiled coldly. “You recall I said everyone had agents here?”

“I do.”

“Well, this one belongs to General Markus Adrogans.” The Vorquelf’s silver eyes sharpened. “I’ve been waiting for him, because we need to have a good long chat.”

T7“ ing Scrainwood had found the conversation with his son utterly dissatisfac-li tory. He realized that the chances of his son’s turning the secret of firedirtWover to him had been slender, but to learn that he did not even possess it had been a vast disappointment. Scrainwood could not discount the idea that Chytrine would eventually betray him, despite her having made him asullanciri. He would have done the same thing in her place, so he had to plan against that eventuality. His possessing the secret of firedirt would have given her pause and would have also given him the power to hold Erlestoke at bay. Now those chances for survival had been squandered by a son who had better things to do than to learn the greatest military secret in the world.

As he wandered in the suite of rooms on the estate he had borrowed from the Oriosan merchant Playfair, Scrainwood entertained no illusions about Chytrine’s treachery. He’d seen for himself what she had caused to be done to the Azure Spider. The man who had once been a legendary thief, and had actually stolen a fragment of the DragonCrown from Jerana, had been transformed into an arach-nomorph. She’d done it to punish him for losing that same fragment to Princess Alexia and her coterie. The Azure Spider had been made into asullanciriand had died a parody of what he had once been.

Scrainwood, too, had been made into asullanciri, though she had not told him what his powers were, and he felt not the least bit different as a result of the transformation. Chytrine had hinted at his being her secret weapon, and had urged him to continue doing what he had done for decades since she’d had his mother slain. The implication was clear: if he failed, he would be slain, and his being asullanciriwould not matter one way or another in that regard.

He stopped to ponder the irony of his seeking a way ultimately to render Chytrine powerless when all the crowned heads in the city would have thought

such a bold plan was quite beyond his grasp. They saw the Northern Empress as a threat to their nations, but he knew her as a far more personal one. They would not have put his doing anything to save his nation past him, yet they underestimated what he would do to save himself.

Either I find a way to stop her, or I make myself so useful to her that she will not discard me. He laughed sharply at that last idea.Shewilldiscard me, but if she hesitates, I gain more time to find a way to destroy her.

As the echoes of his laugh died, a tiny rap came on the door. Before he could call out, it cracked and Cabot Marsham poked his head into the room. “Highness, you have a visitor.”

Scrainwood’s nostrils flared. “Do I look as if I wish to receive a visitor?”

“No, Highness, but

”

The king gave him a stare that by all rights should have caused his skull to explode. That the man did not immediately retreat suggested the visitor was of some import.There can be only two people who warrant such attention. Scrainwood hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. “Send the witch in.”

Marsham just opened the door more widely and Grand Duchess Tatyana of Okrannel entered. Swathed in winter clothing, the ancient crone appeared to be an oversize doll of careless manufacture. He would have expected her to collapse at any moment beneath the weight of her costume, but the fire burning in her ice-blue eyes hinted at boundless energy.

Scrainwood forced a smile. “A pleasure as always, Grand Duchess.”

“Not even your odious aide lies that well, Highness.” Tatyana turned, looked at Marsham, and the man vanished. The door clicked shut behind him. “He is a toad, that one, and ambitious.”

“I know. Like a toad, he will get all puffed up, attract attention to himself, and be slain.” Curling his fingers in toward his palm, Scrainwood inspected the nails on his right hand. “It must be something of consequence that brings you here on such a night.”

“Indeed, Highness.” Tatyana moved to one of two chairs positioned before the fireplace. The golden highlights washing over her face did nothing to soften its aspect. “Have you more of that wine you offered me in Yslin?”

“I do. You truly think our discussion merits it?”

“I hope you will think so, Highness.”

“I am dubious.” Scrainwood crossed to a sideboard and poured two crystal goblets of wine, then brought one to her. “I half expect to have you say that now your nation is liberated, you will sever all ties with me and that our business of the past is concluded.”

Tatyana took the wine and shook her head. “No, Highness, now is the time when our alliance needs to be strengthened. While it is true that my nation has been freed from Aurolani oppression, there is no guarantee that Chytrine will not bring more troops to bear on it and drive Marcus Adrogans away. What we have won so quickly, we can lose just as quickly.”

Scrainwood frowned as he sipped his wine, but the vintage was good enough to ease his expression. “I will admit to being confused, Duchess. Perhaps you would enlighten me as to how you see the current situation.”

The crone sat back and sipped her wine contentedly, then gave him a smile that contained too much superiority to make him feel confident. “The situation is simple, Highness. My agents have been in Okrannel for years, scouting, noting things, and more of them have traveled the country in the wake of Adrogans’ army. What I have learned is disturbing. It would appear that, over the last quarter century, Chytrine has been using Okrannel as a breadbasket. There have been good harvests and the bulk of the foodstuffs have been heading into Aurolan to allow her to build up her army. It is also supposed that much of it has gone to Vorquellyn and has enabled her to create these new creatures, thekryalniri. They are supplanting the vylaens and are quite formidable.”

“So I have heard.”

“In my councils we have supposed she may well have more creatures, more horrible creatures, just waiting to be unleashed. And she is likely to have the same in such numbers that she can push back into Okrannel at will.”

Scrainwood swirled the wine in his goblet. “If that is true, we are all doomed.”

“Not if we play things as carefully as you have in the past.” She sat forward again. “Sebcia and Muroso have fallen, or will, shortly. The latter has cost her much in resources, primarily because of the intervention of a dragon. Saporicia, we can suppose, will further bleed her of troops and supplies, but we both know the Saporicians have never truly had the belly for fighting.”

The king nodded. “They sent no troops to help liberate Okrannel.” Tatyana’s eyes blazed. “Exactly.” Scrainwood snorted. “Neither did Oriosa.”

The Okrans noble half bowed her head, but her smile did not diminish in the least. “But you sent the Norrington, Highness. He was worth more than all the regiments you could have mustered.”

“Neatly said, Duchess.” Scrainwood sipped more wine, then moved closer to the fire. He’d not felt cold until she entered the room. “So, your supposition is that Chytrine’s army will pour through Saporicia, too?”

“Yes, and that will bring her to Alcida. Augustus is the key here, and you are his friend. He knows and trusts my niece, Alexia, and will let her lead the armies that he will gather.” She set her goblet down on the spindly table at her left hand. “Among those assembled here, only Augustus and Queen Carus are capable of bringing together the nations that will be needed to destroy Chytrine. Moreover, Saporicia is a trap. With Oriosa and Bokagul to the east and Loquellyn to the northwest, Chytrine’s troops will be limited in their ability to move. Her supply lines will be stretched. Her troops will be vulnerable.”