Broken World Book Three - A Land Without Law (30 page)

Kieran nodded
with feigned reluctance, laughing inwardly. She had not offered him
silver instead of the stone, proving that she intended to find out
the identity of his patrons.

The Queen
clapped her hands to summon a youth, and ordered, "Bring me a bag
of silver, and my father's sword."

At Kieran's
startled glance, she explained, "You must have a sword." Her smile
dripped venom, but he ignored it and nodded in apparent
satisfaction.

Two youths
soon returned, one with a heavy bag, the other bearing a huge sword
with a jewelled hilt. They set the items on the table and backed
away, bowing. Larina beamed at Kieran.

"Would you
like two servants to carry the stone for you? It's very heavy."

He sent her a
low-browed glance that told he was not that stupid, and shook his
head. "Only as far as the palace gates."

She sighed,
shaking her head in reproof. "I've told you I have no interest in
who sent you, but have it your way."

At her
command, two servants brought a satchel and placed the stone inside
it, along with the bag of silver. They carried it to the door and
waited as Kieran unbuckled the Starsword and laid it on the table
in its scabbard. That way it would baffle the Queen for a little
longer, he hoped. Picking up the jewelled weapon, he bowed to
Larina, who smiled with feigned benevolence as he backed away.

Outside, he
strode down the corridor, the servants trotting to keep up, their
sandals slapping the marble floor in an annoying patter. Soon they
panted from the heaviness of their load and the speedy pace he set,
but he ignored their pleas to slow down. He needed to get out of
the castle as quickly as he could. Following their gasped
directions, he arrived at the palace's main entrance, huge wooden
doors bound and studded in copper.

Dawn
brightened the sky with pale golden streaks as he trotted down the
broad steps into the royal inner city, heading for the gates. The
guards let him pass on the servants' instructions, and he crossed
the expanse of parkland along a tar road to reach the outer gates,
which stood open. There, he took the satchel from the sweating
flunkies and shouldered it with a grunt.

The drab,
deserted streets gradually lost their creeping shadows as the sun
rose to dry the dew from them, and Kieran counted at least four
furtive figures following him in the growing light. Hiding a smile,
he paused to switch his burden to the other shoulder as the first
one began to ache unbearably. People emerged from their homes as
the day dawned. Women threw buckets of slops into the gutter and
men yawned as they trudged to work.

Kieran entered
an affluent inn, ignoring the sleepy proprietor's surprised look as
he went straight through it and into the bustling kitchen.
Bleary-eyed cooks frowned at him as he exited the back door on the
heels of a kitchen boy carrying a pail of dirty water. He paused to
check the street for spies, and, failing to find any, set off
towards Boras' house.

Chapter Twelve

Queen Larina
stared at the sword on the table, her bony hands toying with a thin
braid of black hair. The heavy clump of stone feet made her turn as
a Rider entered the throne room, its yellow eyes smouldering in its
gargoyle face. It stopped on the other side of the table, and
Larina smiled at it.

"See what I
have gained, Trist! The weapon that defeated your fellows, a
magical sword of immense power." Her grin widened. "The fool traded
it for the stone and some silver. He thinks he will live to tell
the tale. You shall feed on him today, as soon as he has led me to
his masters."

"He fell for
that?" the Rider rasped.

"He's a fool,
a common man over endowed with brawn and lacking a brain."

"He must
be."

"With this
sword, you'll conquer vast new lands for me. You'll be able to kill
from afar and cut your way into castles to slaughter the puny
defenders." Her heart warmed with delight. "Nothing will stand in
my way now! I shall become the most powerful ruler in all the land,
kings and princes will kiss my feet."

The Rider bent
to pick up the weapon, but the Queen slammed her hand down on it,
pinning it. Trist withdrew its hand.

"Don't ever
think of crossing me," she snarled. "You need me. Without me you're
just a bunch of blood sucking murderers, and the people will flee
your approach. I'm the reason you feed so well, and don't you
forget it!"

"How can I?"
the Rider grated, "I came to you with the offer of partnership, for
that very reason. Why would I break our deal now?"

"Good. It's
only because you obey me that the people stay. If I die this city
will empty within a day, and you will be rulers of nothing."

Trist nodded.
"I know."

She removed
her hand. "Take it then, but remember, it belongs to me, you only
use it."

Trist picked
up the sword, hefting it, then gripped the hilt and tried to draw
it from the scabbard. The blade did not move, and the Rider pulled
harder, its stone fingers crushing the leather scabbard. The Queen
frowned as she watched the struggle.

"Are you so
feeble that you can't draw a sword from its scabbard?"

Trist raised
empty, glowing eyes. "It will not move."

"Give it to
me!"

The Rider
handed it to her, and she tugged at the hilt until her face
reddened with exertion.

"It's you who
are the fool,” Trist said. “You've been duped."

"How dare
you?" she cried. "He won't get far! As soon as he leads me to the
ones who sent him, I'll have him back, along with my stone and
money. You think me a fool? He'll tell me the secret of this weapon
before he dies, that I promise!" She flung the sword down,
scowling. "When I've finished with him, you can play with him for
as long as you like. No one tricks me like this and gets away with
it!"

Kieran took so
many precautions to ensure that he was not followed that he
succeeded in getting lost. Stumbling down yet another narrow alley,
he tried to get his bearings, but one street looked like another
and he had no landmarks to follow. The piece of staff drained his
flagging strength, and lack of sleep blurred his vision and made
his eyes burn. He paused to rest, putting down the satchel, and
spotted a ragged beggar limping up the street, one of the few
survivors. Digging a silver coin from his purse, he offered it to
the man in return for guiding him to Boras' house. The beggar
helped to carry the satchel, and soon he was banging on Boras'
door.

Visha opened
it, and Kieran stumbled over the threshold, almost falling into her
arms. He veered around her and made it to a chair before his legs
gave way. Flopping down on it, he dumped the satchel on the floor.
Visha's cry of amazement brought Shara and the boys running, and
they were all clearly astonished to see Kieran alive, let alone in
their kitchen. Visha gave instructions, and the children ran to do
her bidding. Shara brought the sleeping mat and spread it in front
of the fire. Jaevu went to tell his father while Chavas and Peran
dragged the satchel into the corner. Kieran sagged, staring at the
floor with eyes blurred by intense exhaustion. Having reached his
destination, he could no longer keep them open. He ached and
throbbed and his limbs seemed to be made from lead.

Visha wrestled
the jewelled sword from his clammy grasp, and Shara helped her to
get him onto the sleeping mat, where he stretched out, asleep in
seconds. Shara unlaced his leather tunic and pulled it aside to
examine the wound in his shoulder, which still oozed dark blood.
She bathed it with warm water and rubbed a salve into it before
bandaging it. Strangely, she could find no other wounds under his
torn and bloody clothes, which puzzled her. Kieran snored gently,
blissfully unaware of her attentions. As she finished her task,
Boras burst in, gaping at the warrior stretched out on his
floor.

"He made
it!"

Visha hushed
him unnecessarily, for at that moment the house could have fallen
down without waking Kieran. "He's exhausted, let him sleep," she
admonished.

"Did he get
it?"

She gestured
to the satchel in the corner. "I think so."

Boras opened
the satchel, and the family gathered around to peer inside. The
piece of gnarled grey stone, seamed with winking crystals and
covered with lines of tiny writing, lay sombre and ancient at the
bottom of the leather bag.

"He did." The
merchant closed the bag and cast a look of deep admiration at the
Prince.

"But he lost
his magic sword," Visha said, nodding towards the jewelled blade.
"He brought that one instead."

Boras' face
fell. "That's bad. I warned him."

"Let's hope he
didn't lead the Queen's men to us."

"I'm sure he
was careful." Boras looked uncertain.

The messenger
prostrated himself before the Queen. "Majesty, we followed him to
the Dog's Head inn, he is there now."

"Excellent.
Send for my guard captain."

Larina tapped
an impatient foot while she waited for her guard captain. She had
retired to freshen herself in her quarters, and her women had done
their best to hide the effects of an almost sleepless night under
powder and paint. The result, though not dramatic, had improved her
appearance somewhat. Larina would never be a beautiful woman, and
did not care. Power and wealth were all that mattered to her,
beauty was for simpering fools who wished to warm a man's bed and
bear his brats.

Her captain
entered, his armour rattling, and bowed.

Larina
ordered, "Take a company, surround the Dog's Head inn and arrest
everyone in it. Bring them here to me, with my stone, my silver and
my father's sword."

"At once,
Majesty."

The man backed
out, and Larina's eye fell on the useless magical sword. Her kick
knocked the table over with a satisfying clatter and sent the sword
skittering across the floor. Stalking back to her chambers, she
ordered breakfast.

By the time
she finished her leisurely meal, a timid lady-in-waiting announced
that the soldiers had returned with prisoners. Larina hurried back
to the throne room to view them. Apart from the innkeeper and his
fat wife, five kitchen drudges and maids, only two wealthy
travellers were prodded into the room, bowing and scraping. The
Queen eyed her guard captain.

"Where are
that muscle-bound moron, my stone, my money, and my sword?"

The soldier
bowed. "We found no trace of them, Majesty. We searched the entire
building, the stables and the grounds."

Her eyes
narrowed, finding no fault with his actions. "How thorough. Yet
they must be there somewhere. They couldn't have disappeared into
thin air."

"My men are
still searching, they will pull down the building if
necessary."

"Good." Larina
studied the prisoners. "One of you conspired to steal the Stone of
Good Fortune from the black army's courtyard. I intend to find out
who, one way or another." The wealthy travellers blustered, falling
silent at the Queen's curt gesture. "I won't listen to lies. One of
you sent a warrior with a magical sword, and he returned to the inn
with the stone."

The innkeeper
stepped forward. "Majesty, a tall man came into the inn early this
morning, carrying a heavy bag."

"That's him!
Brown hair, dark eyes?"

"Yes,
Majesty."

"Where is he
now?"

The man
cringed at her tone. "He walked through the inn, straight out of
the back door."

"Who saw
him?"

"The kitchen
staff, Majesty." The innkeeper prodded forward two gravy-stained
men and a boy. "Tell her Majesty."

The men
shuffled their feet and stared at the floor. "We saw such a man,
Majesty. He walked through the kitchens," one said.

"Where did he
go?"

The boy
staggered as the cook elbowed him. "I - I saw him go down Boar's
Lane, Majesty, then he disappeared."

"Imbeciles!"
Larina swung away, her heavy skirts flaring. "Sacrifice the idiots
who followed him at once!"

The captain
bowed, stony-faced.

"Send out all
the troops, and close the gates!" Larina cried. "Seal the city! I
want every house, stable, brothel and pig pen searched, understand?
Bring me every man who fits his description, and find my
stone!"

The captain
backed out, bent double, and the prisoners cowered from the Queen's
ire as she swung to face them. "You will tell the news singers to
spread the word! I will reward the man who brings me that thief
with enough precious stones, lands and slaves to make him as rich
as I am! Whoever brings me the Stone of Good Fortune will be doubly
rewarded, now go!"

The prisoners
fled, forgetting to back away bowing in their haste to leave the
room and the livid, raging Queen. Larina flung herself onto her
throne, gripping the arms with claw-like hands. The sword mocked
her from the table, where the servants had replaced it after she
had kicked it across the room.

"You won't
escape me," she growled at it. "You're weak without your magic
sword, and I'll find you." Turning to one of the immobile youths,
she said, "Send for Trist."

When the Ghost
Rider clumped into the room, Larina did not bother to look up at
it. "He gave me the slip, but not for long. The city is being
searched. Take your men and search the land outside. He may have
already left, or he may have friends waiting outside. Bring me
whoever you find."

The Rider
turned and clumped out.

Boras jumped
at a pounding on the door, and Visha swapped a nervous look with
him as he went to open it. A thin, ragged figure squeezed inside
and glanced at the sleeping warrior before turning to Boras.