Warrior (16 page)

That wasn’t what caught Rory’s attention, however.

What shocked him speechless was the little creature sitting on top of the pylon. It had large, liquid black eyes, grey wrinkled skin, and long drooping ears, and it was staring down at Rory as if it had been waiting for him to come along.

Rory stared up at the creature. He knew what it was. There were pictures of demons painted on the walls of every temple he’d ever been in. But he’d never imagined he’d see one in real life.

“It’s rude to stare,” the demon told him. Its voice was surprisingly feminine and sounded rather peeved.

“Um . . . I . . . er . . .”

“A gifted wordsmith, I see.”

“
Wordsmith
?”

“Never mind,” the demon replied with a long-suffering sigh. “You can’t go into the town, boy, they’re waiting for you. I’ll show you another way around.”

“Who
are
you?”

“My name is Lady Elarnymire,” the demon informed him, drawing herself up proudly. “Of the té Carn family. I was sent to keep an eye on you.”

“Keep an eye on me? By who?”

“By
whom
,” the demon corrected primly.

“Whatever. Did my grandfather have something to do with this?”

“Certainly not! I am an envoy of the Harshini, not some human fisherman.”

“The
Harshini
?”

“We’ll get through this faster if we dispense with the echoes, my lad.”

“But—”

The demon jumped off the pylon and landed in the dirt at Rory’s feet. “Just follow me,” Lady Elarnymire instructed. “And if you stop repeating every other word I say, I might even tell you who sent me.”

Is it much further?” Luciena asked.

Marla opened her eyes. She had been dozing, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic rocking of the coach. She was tired from almost three weeks of forced inactivity, sitting in a coach each day as they travelled north towards Krakandar. It would be good to get home, just for the opportunity to stretch her legs.

“Another hour or two.”

“The last part of a journey always seems the longest,” her husband added, looking up from the book he was reading. He never slept in the coach, always seemed to be reading. It was a pose she had become accustomed to. Marla had never met anyone so well read as Ruxton Tirstone; it was certainly an unexpected boon in a commoner. But then, much about Marla’s fourth husband had proved to be unexpected, not the least of which was his intelligence and his wry sense of humour. She had expected neither.

Ruxton Tirstone was a spice trader, an unremarkable-looking man of average height with the sort of nondescript features that never seemed to settle in one’s memory on a first meeting. Ruxton was a self-made man, in his early forties, who owned the most comprehensive spy network on the continent.

He had agents from Yarnarrow far north in Karien, in Fardohnya, even at the Citadel in Medalon. Marla had wanted access to that network and after Luciena’s father, Jarvan Mariner, had died, she had set about finding a way to gain it.

She hadn’t planned to marry again. Three husbands by the time she was twenty-three had seemed quite enough for one lifetime. But when Elezaar approached Ruxton Tirstone on Marla’s behalf, the spice trader quickly realised he had something Marla wanted. He was newly widowed himself, with three children of his own whose futures he had to consider. He had a daughter, Rielle, he wanted to marry well and two sons, Rodja and Adham, who—even with his vast wealth—would never amount to anything other than merchants’ sons without the patronage of someone with Marla Wolf-blade’s impeccable connections. The common-born spice trader had held out for a wedding with the High Prince’s sister and, in the end, Marla had agreed. What he had was too valuable to allow it to fall into the hands of her enemies.

Strange
, she reflected,
how the most calculated and cold-blooded marriage I’ve ever entered
into has turned into the most amiable
. Laran Krakenshield had been a kind but distant husband. Her marriage to Nash Hawksword had been passionate and, for a short while, the happiest time of her life.

But good things rarely last and her second marriage had ultimately proved the most bitter and painful experience of all. As for Jarvan Mariner—Marla’s brief marriage to Luciena’s father had barely left a mark on her.

But Ruxton was different. Confident and astute, he knew his value to Marla and was unafraid of her influence. He had wealth independent of hers and did not seem intimidated by the power she wielded. And he had benefited enormously from the deal. A royal endorsement for his spices was something one couldn’t put a price on.

In keeping with their agreement, Marla had arranged for Rielle to marry Darvad Vintner, the Lord of Dylan Pass and a cousin of the Warlord of Izcomdar. Even that had been extraordinarily easy to arrange. As if Kalianah herself had blessed the couple, they had met at the races in Krakandar last summer and been instantly smitten with each other. A few words in the right ears and the trader’s daughter was soon promised to a Warlord’s cousin, because she also happened to be the step-niece of the High Prince. Ruxton’s sons, Rodja and Adham, would reap a similar benefit from their association with the Wolfblades. They were being raised in Krakandar, stepbrothers of the High Prince’s heir and receiving the same education . . .

At least they would be
, Marla thought with a frown,
if they hadn’t so willingly helped Damin,
Narvell and Kalan drive one tutor after another from the palace with their pranks
.

Still
, she decided with a sigh of relative contentment,
it has proven a very good arrangement for
everyone
. Ruxton Tirstone understood Marla’s obsession with keeping Hythria safe, just as he understood her obsession with keeping Damin and the twins safe from harm. As a stable economy was as important to his endeavours as it was to his wife’s, he aided her where he could, giving her unfettered access to the intelligence his spies gathered across the continent and beyond; intelligence from Karien, Fardohnya, Medalon and Hythria as well as the distant and vast southern continent, the secretive lands of the Denikans on the very edge of the Dregian Ocean. But most importantly, he supported Marla in whatever measures she took when it came to keeping their children safe. They had been married for five years now. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime. Other times as if it had happened only yesterday.

And every time I come home to Krakandar, my children have grown taller. Older. More distant
.

“You’ll see them soon,” Ruxton remarked, glancing across at Marla, as if he knew what she’d been thinking.

“They always seem to have grown so big,” Marla sighed, as the carriage rattled on past the lush lowlands of Krakandar. She could tell they were almost home. The deep peaty brown soil of the south had given way to the fertile red soil of the north. The cattle were a deep red-brown, with dopey white faces and haunches fat with juicy marbled beef, not the ferocious black and white behemoths they preferred in the southern provinces, with their stringy meat and their tasteless offal. There were sheep more often now, too, as they travelled north, sitting on the lush grass and watching the large retinue trundle by. Their by-products of meat, wool, leather and parchment were staples of Krakandar’s prosperity, even more so since Mahkas had adopted the policy several years ago of encouraging breeding from ewes inclined to produce twin lambs.

There was just something about this place, Marla thought. The water here was clearer, the sky bluer and the grass greener. It was probably just her imagination, she realised; a subconscious need to believe that she had done the right thing to leave her children in Krakandar while she stayed in Greenharbour, covering for her brother’s incompetence.

“I’ve missed out on so much of my children’s formative years,” she remarked, still staring out of the carriage, “leaving them in Krakandar to be raised by Mahkas and Bylinda.”

“And they’re all still alive because of that decision,” Ruxton pointed out sympathetically. He put a finger between the pages to mark his place and closed the book he was reading. “Don’t keep beating yourself up over it, Marla.”

“Is the danger to the High Prince’s heir so extreme that you need to stay parted from your children for so long each year, your highness?” Luciena asked curiously. Three weeks of close confinement in a carriage with Marla and Ruxton had not yet put the girl at ease with her new family.

She still insisted on referring to Marla and Ruxton as “your highness” and “Master Tirstone” and questioned them often on the smallest details about Krakandar.

“The first time they tried to kill him, Damin was only four,” Marla explained, without elaborating about who “they” had been. She turned her attention back to the passengers in the carriage. “I won’t risk an attack succeeding.”

“My father once told me the worst thing about power was that it made people envious, and that once they envied you, avarice was the next dish on the menu.”

“Your father was a wise man,” Ruxton told Luciena. Then he smiled. “Although for a man who got rich trading on the misfortune of his fellow sea captains, the sentiment was probably a bit tongue in cheek.”

Luciena straightened in her seat, visibly offended. “My father was an honest man! He would never get rich trading on other people’s misfortune.”

“He traded on their ignorance more than their misfortune, probably,” Ruxton told her. “Your father acquired much of his shipping fleet by trading on the naivety of the Denikans. Jarvan Mariner’s voyages across the Dregian Ocean were quite legendary, in fact. He was one of the few who ever made it to Denika and back and managed to show a profit.”

Marla frowned at Ruxton for repeating such nonsense. It was hard enough winning the girl over without Ruxton impugning her beloved father’s memory. “Ruxton is only telling you part of it, Luciena.

But it’s true your father acquired much of his shipping fleet by backing the promissory notes on other vessels and then calling them in when their owners couldn’t pay after a particularly bad season. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to call that trading on other people’s misfortune. Or their ignorance. It’s a fairly sound and common business practice.”

“You have the black heart of a true merchant prince, Marla,” Ruxton observed with a wink in Luciena’s direction. “No wonder Hythria does so well under your guidance.”

“It’s probably the only reason I put up with you,” she responded tartly.

“She really is very fond of me,” Ruxton explained to Luciena. “Really.”

Luciena smiled warily, unsettled by their bantering. “I’m sure her highness is very fond of you, Master Tirstone,” she agreed, glancing out of the window. “Gracious! Is that the city?”

Marla leaned out of the window and looked in the direction they were heading. As they topped the rise, the high granite walls of Krakandar came into view in the distance. Even from this far away, the city was an impressive sight and she smiled with relief at the thought that they were almost home.

“Yes, Luciena, that is Krakandar.”

“It’s huge.”

“You were expecting something smaller, perhaps? Or something more primitive?”

“I don’t know really,” the girl replied, obviously not sure what she had expected. “Will it take us long to get there?”

“Less than an hour now,” Marla predicted, settling back into her seat. “If the lookouts have spotted us, I imagine they’re in a panic right about now, getting ready for our arrival.”

Luciena turned to look at Marla. “Do you always get a big welcome home, your highness?”

“Always,” Marla replied confidently.

Where are the children?” Marla asked, as she ascended the palace steps.

Orleon, Krakandar’s faithful chief steward, stood alone on the landing of Krakandar Palace.

There wasn’t so much as a one-man guard of honour waiting for them.

“I believe they are on an excursion down in the fens, your highness,” Orleon explained with a bow. “Good afternoon, Master Tirstone. Welcome back to Krakandar.”

“Good afternoon, Orleon,” Ruxton replied cheerfully, less bothered than Marla that there was nobody there to greet them. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m feeling quite well, too.”

“Excellent! Has there been any correspondence sent on ahead for me?”

The old man nodded. “A messenger came for you yesterday, sir. He’s most anxious for your arrival.”

“The fens?” Marla demanded, glancing at Ruxton in annoyance. At that moment, Ruxton’s messenger could be bringing them news that Fardohnya was invading and she wouldn’t have cared.

“What, in the name of all the Primal Gods, are they doing in the fens?”

“Some sort of educational excursion, I believe, your highness.”

“Where is Mahkas?”

“Lord and Lady Damaran are in the city, visiting Lady Damaran’s father, your highness. He’s been unwell of late. I sent a messenger to advise them of your pending arrival as soon as your retinue was sighted on the highway. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

“And they just went off into the city and let the children go down into the fens unescorted?”

Marla demanded, horrified to think of the danger they might be in. “Where is Almodavar?”

“Captain Almodavar is on a border patrol in Medalon, your highness. But you needn’t fear.

Captain Harlen escorted the children on their excursion. And I don’t think they were planning anything too strenuous. Lady Kalan and Lady Leila went with the boys. I can have someone sent down to the fens to fetch them. It won’t take—”

“Don’t bother, Orleon,” Marla cut in with a scowl. “I think I’ll fetch them myself.” She turned to her husband. “Care to accompany me while I find out what those demon-spawn you and I so optimistically refer to as our children are up to in the fens?”

Ruxton shook his head with a smile. “They’re all yours, my dear. I’m a city boy at heart. All those midges and bogs and creepy-crawly things . . . no, I think I’ll stay behind, find out what news my messenger brings, and see if my daughter is still speaking to me. Feel free to tan the hides of those boys of mine if they’ve been causing trouble, though.”