The Sleeping King (35 page)

Instead, Hyland, Aurelius, and De'Vir had managed to turn the tide of battle at the last minute and unexpectedly drove the Boki back into the Forest of Thorns. Who'd have guessed those three were capable of rallying their troops with such heroism? They'd fouled up all his best-laid plans, curse them.
He
was supposed to be the rescuer of Dupree.
After
the Boki laid waste to his enemies and took blame for the wholesale looting with which he'd planned to enrich his personal coffers.

But no. The wondrous threesome had to go and save the day all by themselves. Fury raged in his breast even now to remember the glory they'd stolen from him. And now they were sitting there, all smug, demanding that he send out one of his senior military officers in Dupree to confront the Boki. Krugar, of course, was the most senior officer in the Haelan legion, and the next tier of officers below him were the Lions.

Down the council table, the Landsgraves of Delphi and Talyn weighed in, agreeing to contribute to an expeditionary military force. Anton's own sergeant at arms was excitedly tallying up how many men he could gather and outfit for war immediately, which did nothing to calm the council members.

Even Aurelius chimed in, offering up all of the Celestial Order of the Dragon knights he could round up on short notice to provide combat-magic support for the expeditionary force. Anton sneered into his sleeve. Of course, the whoreson offered up his dragons. He'd have been ordered to do it anyway. Trying to come off all noble and patriotic was Aurelius? Since when did any sun elf care for a blessed thing beyond his own fancy hide?

Anton felt the tide turning inexorably against his plans. These fools were determined to rush out and confront the Boki before the orcs laid waste to Dupree again. He could order them not to fight the Boki, but how would that look? Word would get back to Maximillian that the governor refused to defend the colony. Even Ammertus would not be able to protect Anton if he did something so obviously opposed to the Empire's best interests.

Did the Emperor ever feel constrained by the idiocy of his courtiers like this?

How to turn the thing to his favor?

His speculative glance shifted to Hyland, by far his most bothersome landsgrave. Leland had thwarted him at every turn over the years, always arguing for the good of the people, shaming Anton into humanitarian acts and generous decisions that Hyland
knew
galled him. If the Boki could manage to kill Hyland this time around, the collateral losses of a full-scale Boki invasion would be well worth the cost.

Not to mention a war would distract everyone from his new venture in the Ice Wall. Maximillian and the Imperial guilds in Koth would never notice the failure of that region to produce income for them. Every bit of it could go straight to his own coffers.

For that matter, he could levy all sorts of special taxes to finance the defense of Dupree and seize any resources he wished for “the war effort.” Oh yes. A war would be tremendously profitable.

A second green insurrection it was, then, led by the Boki. And this time around, he would see to it they followed his instructions to the letter and that the outcome was to his exact specifications. He would send a message by secret means this very night to Ki'Raiden. And this time he would withhold payment until
after
they killed everyone on the list he gave them.

 

CHAPTER

15

Despite her worry for Will, Rosana yawned as the council wrangled over every last detail of who would do what and how much and when and report to whom in preparing an expeditionary force to march out and drive the Boki out of Dupree. She'd always imagined going to war would be much more glorious—swords waving and grand speeches and distraught damsels kissing the brave warriors on their way.

At long, long last, however, the meeting broke up. Rosana stood and stretched her stiff joints. The governor's benches were none too comfortable..

The Heart adept approached her immediately. “I'm off to the Heart.” He added under his breath, “If you know what's good for you, that is where you will go without delay, as well.”

Rosana nodded fractionally in acknowledgment of his warning.

“Walk with me, Novice.”

*   *   *

Will nearly had to run to keep up with the guildmaster's long strides out the main gate of Anton's residence.

They passed through the gate and Will stopped in his tracks, stunned.
What on Urth?
The entire population of Dupree seemed to have emptied into the streets, and the city was lit up with torches and lamps and lanterns.

Was tonight some sort of festival he was not aware of? The crowd buzzed angrily, though, and he caught snatches of rumor—guild storehouse looted. Soldiers searching the city, beating and arresting any caught with booty. Mobs fighting back against excessive force. Emergency curfew going into effect. This was no festival. It was a riot!

Aurelius swore under his breath and plowed into the melee.

Alarmed, Will plastered himself to the solinari's heels. If there was violence afoot, the safest place in the colony would be at the back of its most powerful combat mage. But Will had a terrible time keeping up with the sun elf, who was moving swiftly and keeping his hood pulled well over his face. In minutes Will had no idea where they were. If he became separated from the elf now, he would be hopelessly lost in the sprawling city.

He was soundly jostled, elbowed, and cursed at before a wide avenue opened up before him, one entire side of it flanked by a long, ornate building, stone below and half timbers above. The trim was intricately painted in royal blue and gold. At night, the magical glow around the structure was plain to the naked eye.

Guildmaster Aurelius hurried up the broad steps, waved his hand briefly, and the great magical shell around the building lowered at his command.

The power of the casual hand gesture stole Will's breath away. Dread anticipation over what the solinari would do to “test” him made his steps slow and his heart pound as he followed the man up the long steps.

This was it. The point of no return.

What of his father's quest? If he went into yon building and learned more of it, he would have no choice but to press on.

He could turn away right now. Leave. Go find Rosana or a nice girl like her, settle down, and live a quiet, normal life, which, after the past few days, sounded pretty blessed good. Of course, that would also mean he would spend the rest of his safe, boring life wondering what would have happened had he found the courage to dare greatly.

*   *   *

The Heart adept hurried away from Anton's great hall with Rosana as if the place made him vaguely ill. She knew the feeling. Her knees still felt on the verge of collapse. Had Will not stood up so bravely for her, she did not want to think what would have happened to her.

“Come along then, Novice,” the adept ordered with thin patience. “We must not stay where we are not welcome, and the governor has made it clear he bears no love for us.” He exclaimed as they reached the mighty portcullis, which was coming down ponderously, already halfway lowered, “What is this?”

Her heart lurched. Were the two of them to be detained, then? Terror exploded in her bosom. But then she saw past the portcullis and noticed people racing past in every direction. To her untrained eye, it looked as if the world were ending.

“Oh, good grief,” the adept muttered. “Not another riot. Come. We will have need of every healer this night. There will be cracked pates and broken limbs aplenty afore this mischief is ended. Cursed governor barely controls his troops in the best of times. But turned loose to restore order, they'll behave little better than savages themselves.”

Wide-eyed, she crowded close to his side as the adept dived into the seething mass of people crowding the streets.

“A healer, a healer…”

“I'm wounded, Heart. Magic, please…”

“We've wounded over this way.…”

It was a mess. Everywhere Rosana looked people with bloody faces and limps and cradling injuries hobbled past. She didn't have the first idea who to begin healing. A fellow with a bloodied lip and what looked like a broken jaw staggered into her, knocking her hard into the adept. The wounded man made a garbled noise like a choking turkey.

She drew forth power to repair the man's face. It came easily, for the Heart's energy was orderly, powerful, in the city with its Heartstone and high concentration of Heart members.

But before she could cast it, the adept snapped, “Save your mana. There'll be much worse than him who need your healing this night!”

“Worse? Where?”

“They'll bring the bad ones to the Heart. Such violence Anton breeds. It'll come to no good, I tell you. The man's a menace.”

Rosana's jaw dropped open. She did believe she'd just heard a Heart member mutter treason. Of course, in the fellow's distress at the number of wounded around him the comment could certainly be forgiven. But her heart warmed to this fellow more than a little at the sentiment.

A tangle of limbs, weapons, and shouting spilled out of an alley and into the street before them, nearly overrunning them both. Rosana recoiled, but not quickly enough. A ball of glowing energy twisted her way through the air, striking her on the shoulder. As it began to sink into her being, however, she recognized it as curse magic and expelled it from her being. Not only did her kind have a gift for creating such magic; they also had a gift for shrugging it off.

A soldier in the Haelan legion's black and gold peeled away from the brawl. “To me, Heart!” he yelled. “This way!”

The adept grabbed her elbow and shoved her toward the soldier, who took off running. Someone took a swing at them from a doorway with something thick and clumsy—a club of some kind—and the soldier's sword flashed up to deflect the blow.

“Hurry,” the soldier urged them.

They burst out into a large square, and on the far side of it she spied the large whitewashed structure that must be the Heart building. Its shell of magical protection glowed brightly, illuminating the entire square in a soft white light.

“Thanks be to thee, soldier,” the adept panted. “Who are you? What is your name?”

“I am Kel. A friend of the Heart. You should be safe enough here if you stick to the lighted places.”

“The Heart will remember you. If you ever have need of us, you have but to ask.”

The soldier nodded briefly and turned to face the square. Only small pockets of fighting were noisy around the edges of the big space.

“Thank you, Kel!” Rosana called as the soldier plunged into the crowd and disappeared from sight.

The crowd was heavy, and the number of wounded exponentially higher here than in the streets behind them. The adept dived into the crowd, dragging Rosana along by the elbow lest she become separated from him.

“The Heart is here!” the shout went up, and was accompanied by voices cheering.

He commented in irritation, “It is most likely my own healers cheering at having me back so they can dump this mess in my lap.”

Grinning, she barged along beside him.

Not far from the Heart's front door, however, they ran across a group of gravely wounded people. They'd been laid out in a row before the Heart's doorstep almost like corpses on a battlefield.

“Oh, for the spirit of Nature,” the adept griped under his breath. “When will Anton learn to rein in his troops?” He raised his voice in brisk command, “Who's in charge, here?”

A harassed-looking woman of middle years looked up gratefully from where she bent over a still, pale form. “Thank the stars, you're back. We could use your mana, Brother.”

He shed his cloak, shoving it at Rosana to hold. “Do you know the life spell?” he asked.

“I have been taught it but have never really cast it.”

“Looks like you get to learn on the job. Pick a body and dive in, Novice.”

With that, the adept shouted, “Where is Brother Lizmorn? We have need of his potions!”

A lizardman wearing the Heart colors materialized, a handful of glass vials in hand. Rosana stared at this Lizmorn fellow, shocked. Although she supposed it was no more shocking for one of his race to be in the Heart than for one of her race. Neither was well loved by Koth.

“Take these,” the lizardman said, shoving a few vials into her hands.

“What are they?” she asked, not seeing any written labels on the vials.

The adept spoke from beside her. “Lizmorn's kind do not learn to read easily. Our native brother has devised a color-coding system for identifying healing potions. See those white stripes on yours? You've got simple healing potions, good for a minor injury or staving off death for a bit.” He gave her a little shove toward the many waiting victims. “Go.”

He turned his back and commenced restoring life to the body nearest to him.

The old panic clutched at her, freezing her mind and body into immobility. What if she messed up? What if she wasted her mana and someone died because of it? Doubts piled on top of one another until she could hardly breathe beneath them all.

“You! Healer girl! Get over here!”

She looked up swiftly at the sharp order.

A richly dressed rakasha, who looked like a white tiger changeling, was waving at her imperiously. His whipcord tone of voice cut through her panic enough that she was able to move her feet.

“These two have been dead for more than three minutes. I need them both lifed. Now.”

She looked down and saw the body of another sumptuously dressed white tiger rakasha. The race of cat changelings was exceedingly uncommon in Dupree. The dead one's hand still clutched a thin golden chain that ran to a matching collar around the other victim's neck—a dead girl, a female jann with strikingly iridescent blue skin for the most part. The girl was nearly of an age with her and so beautiful Rosana's teeth ached to look at her still face.