The Rebel Prince (24 page)

‘Enough!’ he said sharply. ‘We have
business
to discuss, and I shall not be distracted from it! Monsieur Le Garou, when you are resident here I shall not tolerate the retention of slaves. Those whom you and your men cannot gainfully employ, you must free with ample purse to set them up in a trade. You understand?’

Le Garou shrugged. Wynter and Razi gaped at Alberon.
When you are resident here?
Could he be serious?

Alberon turned to Razi. ‘Lord Razi,’ he said firmly, ‘we shall stick to the subject that Le Garou and I have brought to this table. Your own agendas will fall aside.’

Alberon turned back to Le Garou and went to speak, but almost immediately his lieutenant made himself known at the door, and the Prince hung his head in exasperation while Oliver went to take a message.

While waiting, David Le Garou smiled across the table at Razi, who still stared at Alberon in disbelief. ‘Those dogs sound a mite savage, my Lord,’ said the Wolf, tilting his head to the distant baying of the Merron hounds. ‘I hope they are well fettered.’

Razi turned his head as if on rusty hinges, and Alberon looked at Le Garou from under his brows, irritated at the obvious resumption of verbal hostilities.

Le Garou just kept smiling at Razi. ‘Of course, there’s naught more dangerous than an unchained cur,’ he murmured. ‘One would hope the owner of such an animal would be wise enough to keep him tethered.’

At his back, the row of Wolves grinned, and Razi regarded them with hatred.

Oliver came and whispered in Alberon’s ear. The Prince’s young face brightened into a wicked smile. ‘Oh, I have no doubt they do,’ he said. He glanced at Le Garou as if sharing a great jest. ‘The Haun have requested access to my presence.’

David Le Garou chuckled. ‘Of course they have.’

‘Tell them no,’ said Alberon, and Oliver nodded and went to convey the message to the lieutenant.

‘My arrival has thrown them,’ smiled Le Garou. ‘Poor things. They do rely so on my father’s collusion in the Sultan’s demise. They can only be alarmed at my unexpected communion with you.’ He sighed and ran his gloved hands across the tabletop, his eyes on Alberon. ‘Now,’ he murmured, ‘tell me my reward.’

‘The Lord Gascon De Bourg,’ said Alberon. ‘You recall him, Lord Razi? A foolish man. So foolish, indeed, that he sided with my father’s enemies during the insurrection.’

‘This proved bad for his health?’ asked the Wolf.

‘Extremely.’

‘And his heirs? Can I presume that their father’s foolishness prove bad for
their
health?’

‘It proved fatal.’

‘As it should. No house should take arms against a king and live to think the better of it. Tell me, your Highness, this dead traitor to your father . . . he left a sizeable estate?’

‘Large, rich, well established. It has vineyards, lake and pasture. Marvellous stock and well managed tenantry. The King has planned to divide it between four of his supporters, and a fine living they all would have made of it too . . . I shall ensure it is given to you instead, Monsieur Le Garou, in its entirety. You and your men will be set for life.’

Le Garou sighed again and closed his eyes. He rolled his head as if some unseen hand were kneading the tension from his shoulders. ‘An estate,’ he breathed. ‘At last.’

Wynter shook her head. She watched Alberon closely. This must be some kind of trick. He was planning to fool the Wolves somehow; there could be no other explanation.

Alberon’s eyes went hard. ‘Now, Monsieur,’ he asked flatly, ‘what do
you
offer
me
?’

Le Garou’s face darkened with bitter satisfaction. ‘My father has denied me my due too long,’ he whispered. ‘He grins at me and calls me his best, but keeps me to heel like a common whelp while lesser sons get their title and are released. I grow weary of an old dog’s suspicion. His lack of faith has made of me that which he feared all along.’ He tilted his head, his smile cold. ‘I will split the packs for you, Prince. I will draw my father’s allies from him with the promise that they will join me in my new life. The ones who are left in his command will smell his weakness and tear him apart in their efforts to gain control.’ He jerked his head towards the camp. ‘Those Haun await confirmation that my father and his Corsair allies are ready to forge an alliance to topple the Sultan. They will be sore disappointed when I break the news of my father’s change of heart.’

‘A change of heart which exists only in your imagination,’ murmured Alberon.

Le Garou grinned wide and Wynter clearly saw the Wolf behind the man. ‘I am my father’s voice and claw, Prince. Why would they doubt me? The Haun are weak already. Spread thin by time and distance, this is a blow their leaders will not recover from. When they realise that the Loups-Garous are no longer on their side, their scheme for an invasion of the West will be destroyed. They too will rip themselves apart with recrimination and struggle. The Western Haun will be weakened beyond repair.’

Razi huffed. ‘What use are Wolves and Corsairs to the Haun?’ he murmured. ‘Why would they seek the support of ragtag pirates and rabid ungovernable scum like you?’

Le Garou glanced darkly at him from the corner of his eye. If looks could poison, Wynter was certain Razi would have dropped to the floor and writhed to his death in the dirt.

‘The Haun would have much to be grateful for if the Corsairs and the Wolves pull the Sultan from his throne,’ snarled Le Garou. ‘When he is no longer in charge, this kingdom will no longer have an ally in the Moroccan court and the Haun need have no fear of reprisals when they ride in here and rape your land. They would be so very, very grateful to my father for this, al-Sayyid. So grateful. They have already offered to give what is left of this kingdom to those who helped them gain power. And my father and his allies will merrily divide it among themselves. The Corsairs will receive the Southland ports and free rein over those damned shipping lanes of your father’s. The Loups-Garous will gain dominion over the port road. And the Haun?’ The Wolf grinned, too wide a grin, with too many teeth, and his eyes darkened until there was no colour left in them at all. ‘The Haun will simply let loose on the Europes, for sport, to see what they can get.’

Wynter’s hand tightened on Coriolanus’s back, and the cat shuddered and mewed softly in fear.

‘But I can halt all that,’ said Le Garou. ‘With one or two words from me, it all falls down; the Moroccan throne will be safe, the Southlands will remain secure. All I ask in return is a home of my own.’

‘Lies,’ said Razi.

Le Garou slid his dark gaze to him again, and Alberon turned to regard his brother with open interest.

‘The Corsairs have lost all their supporters,’ said Razi. ‘Thanks to the Sultan’s reforms, even their old Slawi allies have turned against them. They are adrift at sea – portless, friendless outlaws, desperate for a haven. And the Wolves? You are as you always were: a loose alliance of disparate packs, some strong, some weak, too rabid ever to come together long enough to act as one.’

Alberon frowned at Le Garou and Wynter could see that he was listening, really listening to Razi’s words. Hope rose in her chest as she saw the Prince regard the Wolf with new eyes.

Razi went calmly on. ‘The Sultan’s enemies have no strength, David, and you know it. Your father and his allies are naught but noisy, squabbling bandits and rabbletrash. They have no hope of uniting a force strong enough to topple the Moroccan throne. You have come here with nothing but empty words, and have hoped to build an empire upon them. You will not succeed.’

‘Do you really expect the Prince to listen to you?’ growled Le Garou. ‘You, who has set your arse on a velvet cushion this last five years while your little brother has hacked his way through your father’s enemies?’

‘No,’ warned Alberon, pointing a finger at the Wolf. ‘That is enough.’

‘
You?
’ continued Le Garou, snarling at Razi despite Alberon’s obvious disapproval. ‘How dare
you
accuse
me
of empty words, when all you ever
have
is words? You gelded calf!’ he cried, slapping the table. ‘You ball-less
bint
! Do not force me to test you, al-Sayyid. I would tear your throat with a look!’

Alberon surged to his feet, and David sat back, suddenly aware that he had gone too far. Wynter was utterly certain, then, that Razi had won. Alberon’s rage convinced her so. Then Razi made his terrible mistake, and two angry sentences brought the Prince’s wrath swinging back around to fall on his brother: ‘You will not use my brother’s foolishness as a tool to further your own ends,’ said Razi to the Wolf. ‘I will not let you.’

As soon as he had uttered them, Wynter could see that Razi wished the words unsaid. His eyes widened, and he all but slapped his hand across his mouth. But the damage was done. Alberon’s rage turned cold. Le
Garou’s uncertainty became a grin, and the battle was lost.

EMPTY WORDS

A
LBERON TOOK
his seat and did not look at his brother. ‘Tell the Haun to come up now, Sir Oliver; Monsieur Le Garou and I are ready to speak with them. Lord Razi, you may stay, or you may go. It makes no odds to me either way.’

‘Alberon . . .’ whispered Razi.

But Alberon looked to David Le Garou and said, ‘How shall we handle this, Monsieur? Do you prefer to speak, or shall I?’ and that was it. Razi was out in the cold, watching from a distance as his brother went about his business.

The Haun came – eager, fawning, and utterly thrown. Their linguist translated Le Garou’s news with frozen shock, and the older men’s subsequent efforts to cajole and deny flowed around Wynter as a stark contrast to Razi’s broken silence. He simply sat through it all with his eyes on the table, his face weary. He seemed utterly spent.

At some stage Coriolanus crawled onto Wynter’s lap, and she cradled him with absent protectiveness as the Wolves leered at her from the corners of their eyes. Oliver hovered in the background while Alberon put the panicked Haun in their place. The knight was as poised and imposing as ever, but he looked exhausted, and sometimes, in spite of his courtly detachment, Wynter caught him glancing at Razi or at Le Garou, his face naked with misery.

The Haun left at last, and Alberon rose to dismiss the Wolves. He grinned crookedly, reached across the table, and to Wynter’s dismay, shook David Le Garou’s gloved hand.

‘So,’ he said, ‘we are done.’

‘Our bargain is sealed now, Prince?’ asked Le Garou. ‘My pack will rest easy in your protection?’

Alberon’s face hardened a little and he tightened his grip on the Wolf ’s hand. ‘Do not cross me, monsieur, and I shall endeavour not to cross you.’

Le Garou smiled his sharp smile and held the Prince’s eye. ‘I shall not cross you, Prince,’ he said. His eyes dropped briefly to Razi, as if dismissing a spot of dirt on the table; then he turned to his men. ‘Go direct the boys to set up our quarters.’

They bowed. ‘Yes, Father,’ they said, and Wynter saw Le Garou soak up the title, closing his eyes to it as to a lover’s caress.

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘Father. At last.’

Alberon frowned in distaste at this, and Wynter saw him unconsciously rub his hand on his trousers. ‘Sir Oliver will direct your men as to where they can camp,’ he said. ‘And, Le Garou, your followers will behave around the Haun, you understand? There will be no triumphalism.’

Le Garou bowed. ‘None at all,’ he promised, smooth as buttered oil.

Oliver led the Wolves from sight and Alberon stood in silence for a moment, listening to their retreating footsteps. Wynter held Coriolanus close, waiting for Alberon’s anger; waiting for the moment he would turn on Razi and let loose on him all the rage of a prince whose authority had been slighted. She actually jumped when Razi was the first to speak. He kept his voice very soft and did not look up at his brother.

‘The Wolves have six riders in the forest,’ he said.

Alberon glanced coldly at him. ‘To what purpose?’ he asked, crossing to retrieve Marguerite Shirken’s papers and seating himself at his battered little writing table.

‘Self-protection,’ said Razi.