The Last Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (22 page)

Cavan paced around his rooms, alternately cursing himself and enjoying the thought that his father was on his side. Yes, he had underestimated Swane and his brother had outwitted him. But in losing that battle perhaps he had the key to win the war. His father suspected Swane, had people watching him and was prepared to destroy him if he revealed his evil again. He was determined not to give Swane the chance to fool him again, so now all of his guards were clustered outside the door, in case Swane decided to try something else.

A disturbance outside made him turn, while Eamon came to his feet, sword sliding into his hand.

“Let me through, curse you! I am the Prince’s man!” they heard Niall shout.

A few moments later the door opened and the clerk squeezed in past a pair of burly guardsmen.

“Highness, I am sorry,” he said. “I have been unable to find the slain men’s families. All of the addresses we have for them are empty. I went to each one, carrying enough gold to keep a dozen children clothed and fed for twenty years, but they were all gone.”

“Don’t tell me they were families we loaded onto the ships bound for Lunster,” Cavan groaned.

“No highness, they were not,” Niall said in a quiet voice. “They were scattered in different areas of the poor quarter. But every one was empty, cleared out. Looked like it had been done in a hurry as well.”

“Do you think my brother – ?”

“Highness, what they did to those poor men, they would have said anything, told everything,” Niall said. “Your brother would have had all the time he needed to do what he wanted with their kin.”

Cavan sighed deeply and was about to put his head in his hands when Niall coughed.

“I went to the castle library as you asked and found the scroll you wanted. The librarian was not best pleased to see it taken. It was not on a shelf either. I had to use your seal to make him get it out.”

Cavan took the scroll and opened it up. He wanted – no, he needed to know more about the worship of Zorva. This was an account by the Archbishop of Aroaril during the time when the church was battling to stamp out pockets of the evil.

“What should I do with the money? And should I keep searching for the families?” Niall asked.

“Leave the money over there. Hide it in one of the drawers. I’ll find a better spot for it later. As to the families, I fear we are too late for them. They have been taken and killed as well. I doubt we shall ever find their bodies.”

“Then why were we allowed to find the bodies of the spies? They were placed there for a reason. If you can make them disappear out of a room surrounded by soldiers, there is no excuse for letting Kelty and his guards blunder across them,” Eamon asked.

“That’s what I am trying to find out.” Cavan held up the scroll then sat down and began to read.

It was written in a strange style and had faded badly over the years. But there was much he could still make out. Archbishop Aidan – Cavan smiled at that, imagining his father being named after a long-ago cleric and what he might say if told – was not much of a storyteller but what he was writing about was so horrifying that it needed little embellishment. Unlike Kynan, it seemed Aidan was high in the favor of Aroaril, and he had needed every scrap of power he could find, for the Fearpriests fought back in terrifying ways. Much of this was hidden from the ordinary people, for fear of a panic gripping the country. But the priests and guards fighting against the Zorva-worshippers were left horribly scarred and scared by what they saw. Cavan read swiftly, taking from it what he could.

Zorva has priests just as Aroaril does. These Fearpriests never reveal their faces when they are doing their bloody work, and they wear rust-red robes, the color of dried blood. Just the color Swane had adopted of late. Cavan swallowed his horror and read on. They seduce the weak and the greedy. The ugly can become handsome; the pitiful become powerful. It is a strong lure and the foolish do not see until too late what the price of all that will be. Fearpriests’ only weakness is metal. They never use it and their power cannot affect it. They can outlast even the strongest wizard, for their power comes not from inside but from Zorva.

They can be killed and must be killed. Do not give them a chance, for they will destroy you without pity. They are lost souls in the true sense of the word and exist only to fulfil their perverted pleasures
, the Archbishop wrote.

Cavan read on and gasped aloud.

“Highness?” Niall asked worriedly.

“I know how he did it. He brought those poor men back to some sort of half-life and probably had them crawl out across the rooftops. That’s why there was blood found elsewhere in the house but no bodies. If we go back and search, we could probably find the trail they left across the rooftops; it might even lead to Swane,” Cavan said, pointing at the offending passage in the scroll. Then he deflated. “No, my brother has set this up as a lesson to me. The bodies are gone.”

“Highness, your brother’s man Ryan is here,” Niall said urgently.

Cavan looked up to see the lion-haired Ryan in the doorway, his hands held high and wide, a pair of guards holding swords pressed into his sides.

“Let him in. If Swane wanted to try something, this is the last man he would send,” Cavan waved to them.

Ryan put his hands down and walked in, guards still watching him, until Eamon stepped in front of him.

“Put your hands on your head,” the bodyguard ordered.

With a slight smile, Ryan elaborately placed his hands on his head and let Eamon search him swiftly but thoroughly.

“Nothing, highness. Not even a letter opener able to break open a wax seal, let alone do you harm,” Eamon reported.

Cavan nodded and Eamon stepped aside, although he drew his sword and held it loosely just a foot away from Ryan’s legs.

“There really is no need,” Ryan said.

“Tell that to the five men your master sacrificed to Zorva last night,” Cavan spat.

Ryan’s face did not change. “I do not know what you are talking about, highness. I am merely here with a message to you from Prince Swane.”

Cavan tried to fix Ryan with the sort of glare his father had mastered, the terrifying one that made people blurt out the one thing they had been determined not to say. But Ryan just looked back evenly and Cavan gave up.
While serving my brother, Ryan’s probably seen far more horrifying things than me looking as though I have eaten a plate of rotten oysters
, he thought.

“Go ahead.”

“He asks to meet you. He merely wants a chance to explain things. You can pick the time and place and bring as many guards as make you feel comfortable. He will come alone.”

Cavan examined Ryan carefully, looking for some hint this might be a trap. But how could it be?
What does Swane want? And what does he have to gain from this?
Cavan realized there was only one way to answer those questions.

“The kitchen garden in a quarter-turn of the hourglass. Now get moving and tell him,” Cavan said, knowing it would take Ryan that long to get back to Swane’s rooms and escort him down to the rendezvous.

“Thank you, highness.” Ryan bowed and left.

Cavan waited until he was out of the room before turning to the other two.

“Niall, find Captain Kelty and bring him to the corridor overlooking the garden. Eamon, get the guards and we’ll meet him down there.”

“Highness, is this the wisest course of action?” Niall asked nervously.

Cavan laughed. “I have no idea. But he has something he wants to tell me. From what I’ve just read, he could walk in here and we couldn’t do anything to stop him as he cut out all our hearts. Having a stroll around the kitchen garden with him is hardly going to be any riskier than just living here. Still, to be sure, see if you can find the Archbishop as well.”

The kitchen garden was a large, sunny space filled with raised garden beds that were themselves filled with a variety of herbs and vegetables. A pair of servants were weeding the beds and picking herbs when Cavan arrived but did not have to be told to leave – they fled as soon as they saw the guards following him.

“I’ll post two on each side, then keep two with me, and we’ll always be no more than a pace behind you, highness. If he tries anything, we will be on him in a heartbeat,” Eamon promised.

Cavan walked down the rows of garden beds and sat down beside one of potatoes. There was nowhere near enough to feed the castle staff but it ensured the King always had a fresh supply.

He heard noises above and looked up to a covered corridor, where Niall gave him a wave, while both Captain Kelty and Archbishop Kynan frowned at him.

“Brother, you really didn’t need to go to all this trouble for me,” Swane said pleasantly, as he strolled into the garden unaccompanied.

Cavan saw him glance around at the guards and the witnesses above and wondered why Swane’s smile grew even larger.

His brother looked positively glowing as he sauntered down between the garden beds, dressed in beautiful Kottermani silk.

“You’re looking well, brother. Quite different. You glow like magic,” Cavan said loudly.

Swane said nothing, just kept that smile on his face as he sat down beside Cavan on the brick edge of a garden bed.

“I am alone. But I have some things that are only for your ears, brother. We could save each other a great deal of time and trouble if you would walk with me and talk with me alone. Keep your guards close, by all means, but not so close they can hear.”

“Worried you might have witnesses?” Cavan asked.

“These are matters not to be spread around the castle and then around Berry by servants’ gossip. This is about the ruling of this land and should only be for you and I to discuss,” Swane said gently.

Cavan searched his brother’s face but it was unfamiliar. He was so used to seeing the ugliness there and reading the anger and hatred in his eyes that it was impossible to tell, now, whether he was speaking the truth or spinning a tale. Yet there was no choice here. His attempt to discover what Swane was up to by force had failed. Trickery had also failed – disastrously so. This was all that was left.

“Come then, let us walk,” Cavan invited, waving Eamon and the guards back.

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve done in moons,” Swane said.

“So what do you have to tell me?” Cavan asked.

“Patience, brother,” Swane counselled, leading him around a pair of other garden beds until they stood alone in the center, nobody closer than ten feet.

“You discovered what happened to the spies you sent into my rooms. Understand that is the punishment awaiting any others you dare to send in to invade my privacy.”

“So you admit to working with a Fearpriest and sacrificing those men to Zorva?” Cavan gasped.

“Nothing of the sort! I merely had them killed, and their families as well, for being traitors to the Crown. Nobody spies on a member of the royal family and gets away with it. Where are you getting this business about Zorva from?”

“From five men with their hearts torn out of their living bodies,” Cavan hissed.

“And you have this evidence? Surely you would have presented it to father by now?”

“I don’t have it and you well know it. You used your Fearpriest friend to bring them back to half-life and have them walk out of that house, crawl over the rooftops –”

“Hearts ripped out, bodies brought back to life? Sounds like you have a wonderful imagination. Perhaps you should have been born a bard instead,” Swane suggested.

“I know what you did. And I am going to watch you all day and every day. Make a mistake and I shall have you dragged before Father for judgment. Or maybe I should just tell the Guilds and the nobles that you are the one behind the children going missing –”

“Don’t be a fool,” Swane hissed, taking his arm. “Now shut up for a moment and listen to me.”

Cavan plucked his arm free angrily but stayed where he was.

“Good.” Swane nodded approvingly. “Don’t interrupt until I have finished. There are things going on around you that you don’t know about. Everyone thinks that discovering the trading links with the Kottermanis is brilliant. We have wonderful new clothes and furniture and delicious new foods, even those potatoes there. But it is not called the Kotterman
Empire
for nothing. We have to be careful or we shall end up as just another of their provinces, ruled by their Emperor.”

Cavan waited impatiently. It was surprising to hear this from Swane, as he thought his brother had no interest in these sorts of things. It was more detail than he had heard from his father as well. Whenever he had tried to raise these subjects with King Aidan, he had waved him away.
I am the Crown Prince, I should have been having these discussions with Father
, he thought angrily.

“We don’t have much that interests them but neither do we have an army that could stop them. So we need power and we especially need money. These things are going on now and you don’t need to worry about them; nor do you need to concern yourself with what is going on in Lunster, nor in the back streets of Berry. All you need to know is what I tell you now. Father is not the right King for these troubled times. We need to take over.
I
have no interest in being king. That is not for me. You should be king and the face of the Crown. We shall find you a beautiful wife and you can get on with what you do best – going to dinners, giving speeches and patting small children on the head.”

“Leaving the ruling to you,” Cavan said sarcastically.

“To those better suited to it,” Swane agreed.

“You arrogant little bastard. You really think I would nod and go away, help you kill Father, let you continue with whatever sick plan you have? Do you think I will be the face of a country ruled by Zorva?” Cavan snarled.

He went to push past Swane but his brother caught his arm, holding on with surprising strength.

“You may not think so but we have much in common, you and I,” Swane said urgently. “We both know what sort of man Father is. We should not be enemies. Let us rule this country together –”

Cavan wrenched his arm free. “You are a fool and I shall be speaking to Father about you. I don’t know how you fooled Archbishop Kynan last time but I will drag you into church and reveal your new face is thanks to Zorva!”