Exile (28 page)

One of the strangers spoke: “Come with us, my lord.”

And there was nothing to do but just that.

Chapter Eighteen

T
hey walked for a long while through the darkened city with only wafts of filth and the scratching of feral scavengers as company. Their abductors moved like specters as they held the circle around them, so synchronized and unified Draken couldn’t have picked one from another.

At last they arrived at an unlit building, fifth in a row of a dozen similar structures on a nondescript quiet street fifteen streets from the keep. The circle of ghost-like abductors opened at the doorway to allow them passage. They didn’t enter the building with Draken and the others, but held vigil outside. The single-roomed building was empty, dark, and cold.

“What is this devilry?” Tyrolean asked, stalking toward a rear door where a crack of moonlight shone through. He rattled it hard and turned away with a snarl of frustration. “Sevenmoon, it’s barred.”

“You said yourself Va Khlar likes to take hostages,” Draken said, walking the interior walls, running his hands along the stone, searching for an exit and finding nothing. “Though after the fiasco at Urian’s, I don’t know I’m worth much.”

“You’re worth more than you think,” a voice intoned as a torch flared. “Perhaps just not to whom you think.”

Draken spun, lifting his sword to the ready, but a flare of sudden torchlight blinded him. Tyrolean swore again.

“Be easy. You’re in no danger from me,” replied the voice. “Not yet, anyway.” The stranger offered his free palm to show he was unarmed before pushing back his cloak hood, revealing his face. The torch flickered on white scars crisscrossing hard-boned features. He was broader and darker than any fullblood Akrasian Draken had seen, but his eyes were lined. He didn’t so much as blink under Draken’s close scrutiny.

“It is my great honor to know you, Night Lord. I am Va Khlar, chieftain to my clan.” He bowed. “And your friend, if you wish it.”

Draken couldn’t read the ugly, scarred face, though Va Khlar sounded civil enough. He put away his sword in its sheath, making a whisper of threat in the silent room, but he said nothing.

“The honor is ours,” Tyrolean answered, stepping forward and gripping Va Khlar’s offered forearm.

“Odd times,” Va Khlar said, “hearing such from a career Escort like yourself.”

“Aye, odd times,” Tyrolean agreed. “But custom demands courtesy between all Akrasians, whether we be friends or not.”

“What do you want from us?” Draken asked.

“My son, Lord Draken,” Va Khlar answered. The stony demeanor cracked; a diagonal scar ran from his nose to his jawbone quirked and then straightened.

“Your son…” There was a long silence while Draken grasped what Va Khlar meant. “Gusten.”

“How did you hear of it?” Tyrolean asked.

“I didn’t, not at first. He knows to return when I say, and he was late. I made some inquiries and followed the Mance’s trail to the keep, but learned I had come just behind you.”

“I am sorry,” Draken said. Suspicion and potential enmity notwithstanding, the man had lost his son.

“Thank you, though I wouldn’t expect you to do me the favor of his return without the exchange of something as valuable.”

“Why not just take him? Surely you know where he is.”

“You could have left him in the street, but you did not. You could have stepped aside from the matter, but you did not, even with your friend under suspicion. I would not insult such a man.”

Facing the man now, Draken would have gladly given Va Khlar his son back for nothing, but to oppose a concession might be an insult. How could he know? “I’m listening.”

“I’ll give you the Princess Aarinnaie for my son.”

Draken decided to gamble. “No. It’s not enough.”

Osias spoke. “Draken, he’s lost his son.”

“It is a brutal thing, but Aarinnaie has become an excuse for her father to mobilize against the Queen. Gusten likely died for the cause. Va Khlar provided for at least part of it, and I want to know how and why.”

Va Khlar didn’t blink. “And for this you’ll return him to me?”

“I swear it,” Draken said.

“Come then, and I’ll tell you all I know.”

Va Khlar turned and led the way to a trapdoor in the floor. His soft boots made no sound on the wooden floor. Twisting stone stairs led downward into the underground twilight of a torch-lit cellar. Low couches flanked a table laden with flagons and food.

“Sit, Night Lord, please.” Va Khlar dropped down on one of the couches and Draken sat opposite him. The others hovered in the background; this conversation was meant to be had with Draken alone.

“I’ve been approached by Queen Elena’s enemies before, of course,” Va Khlar began, as he reached to fill two flagons with wine. Draken accepted his with a nod, but he didn’t drink, not yet.

“We’ve always turned down such allegiances in the past, even when our goals aligned. Despite my prior history of operating alone, this time Prince Khel was furious at my refusal to work in hand against Elena. I’m sure you are aware he does not take disappointment well.” Va Khlar reached under his cloak to produce a small pouch and a curved pipe with dual bowls. He packed the pipe from two different pouches as he went on. “Aarinnaie approached us not long after. I was suspicious of her motives, of course, but once she told me her story of a lifetime of abuse at the hands of her father, I decided to take her on.”

“Meant in all kindness, I’m sure,” Draken said.

Va Khlar met his gaze and smiled. “The mistreated have their uses. She’s got something to prove to her father, which furthers my own agenda.”

“Rumor says your agenda is making money.”

Va Khlar’s smile thinned. “I’ve nothing against coin, truth. But it’s not my main goal. Not this time.”

Tyrolean hovered behind Draken. Before Draken could ask Va Khlar to clarify what his goals were, the Escort spoke. “If Elena dies, Prince Khel would fight for her throne. Aarinnaie hates her father-Prince. Why would she support him?”

“Regardless of his many faults, she feels the kingship is still rightfully his.” Va Khlar paused and glanced up at Draken. “At the least, she’d like to see it kept in her House.”

“So Aarinnaie fancies herself Queen?” Draken leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. The pendant dangled between his arms.

Va Khlar eyed it while he tampered with his pipe. “You’ve a different opinion, Night Lord.”

Draken shrugged. “Aarinnaie isn’t Queen material, and Brîn never had a female ruler before Elena. They aren’t any more likely to accept her—”

“They?” Va Khlar’s eyebrows lifted. “Not the way a man speaks of his brethren.”

Draken went on as if Va Khlar hadn’t spoken, but a thrill of alarm settled in his spine at the slip. “It sounds like the worst sort of naïveté on Aarinnaie’s part, and I don’t buy it. She’s not stupid.”

“I don’t disagree, and as I said, she has her uses.” Va Khlar was having trouble striking a flame. Osias approached on silent feet and reached for the pipe. He cupped the bowls in his hands and conjured small fires within them.

“Thank you, Lord Mance.” Va Khlar put the pipe in his mouth and drew in the smoke. His exhale produced a familiar cloying scent.

“Gadye smoke,” Draken observed.

Va Khlar arched an eyebrow, halved by a broad scar. “They cut the best while they yet live, don’t you agree, my lord?”

Draken chilled, thinking of Galene and the attack in the woods. Was it a taunt?

Va Khlar drew in more smoke and went on. “Aarinnaie is a handsome risk, and her father after her. But she is dedicated to removing Elena, which coincided with my goals, and she is good. Very good. She nearly succeeded—would’ve done, had you not been there.”

Kill him,
Bruche said.
He’s a traitor.

No. There’s more to learn from him.
Never mind they’d not get out alive with his people encircling the building. Draken fought the urge to wave away the milky smoke clinging to his airways. “So you admit to plotting to kill Elena. Why do you hate her so much? How has she wronged you?”

“Wronged me?” Va Khlar gave a laugh that made Draken trust him even less. “She’s done nothing.”

Draken shook his head in bewilderment. “Then why?”

“In fact, it’s just it, my lord. She has done nothing,” Va Khlar said. “She sits in her Bastion while her realm flounders. No laws kept, mercs ravage the country, no protection by her troops because they hole up as she does, and no protection from them when they come out.”

“The Brînian Prince is no better,” Tyrolean said, tone tight, shifting on his feet behind Draken. Making nice with an enemy had to gall. “He only shows himself when he assaults trade ships. His men are mongrels, well known for cruelty.”

“Like him or not, Lord Prince Khel holds firm law in Brîn,” Va Khlar said. “Better than your sort have.”

“Your sort as well, my lord,” Tyrolean answered, his tone tight.

“No laws held means free reign for you,” Draken said quickly, trying to steer the conversation back to the matters at hand. “I fail to see your problem with it.”

“Reschan is the center of trade in Akrasia. I control every exchange in Reschan—or I did.”

“Extortion.” Draken didn’t try to hide his disgust.

Va Khlar shook his head, his raspy voice thick with smoke. “I won’t deny I’ve made fair coin off ugly transactions. I’ve also kept things peaceful for commerce. But Brînian freemen throng our markets because they know Elena’s army is no real threat. More fights and vendettas break out every day. I know what they say of me: I only raid for coin. But I also raid for control. And yet even I cannot keep up with it all. Soon the Brînians will band together and take Reschan again. They won’t stop there. After they murder every Akrasian and sundry within these walls, they’ll carry their new confidence to Auwaer.”

“Urian is weak,” Draken admitted. “I can see it.”

“
Elena
is weak.”

Draken leaned back and the pendant bumped against his black armor. He didn’t have to look down at it to see what the others saw: the Queen’s likeness chained around his neck. It felt heavier than ever. He rubbed the base of his skull, thinking.

“Auwaer’s palisade holds fair,” Tyrolean pointed out. “No army can pass through it.”

“Unless it has a Mance to heel,” Va Khlar said.

Draken’s head snapped up. “Your point, sir?”

Va Khlar released a breath. “I hired Aarinnaie to kill Elena, but it wasn’t long before I realized she wasn’t working for me so much as trying to implicate me.”

Draken spread his hands. “You’re already implicated. You’ve admitted your guilt.”

“As far as it goes,” Va Khlar said. “I hired Aarinnaie for a job and turned her loose to do it. Nothing more. But you and I both know she did not act alone.”

Time to give a little. Draken nodded. “We do believe a Mance is involved.”

“And now a Mance arrow has killed my son,” Va Khlar said, his tone tight. “With all that, I thought you should know the limits of my involvement. Consider it a gift, an act of peace to head off war.”

Some gift,
Bruche chimed in.

“I don’t understand. You admit you want Elena dead, and now you’re trying to ally the Night Lord?” Tyrolean asked. “When we should kill you by right.”

“Stand down, Captain. There’s been enough killing tonight,” Draken said.

“No. The captain asks a valid question. I’ve since rethought my plan against the Queen. Things are difficult enough here, and I’d hate to see unrest spread beyond Reschan.” Va Khlar shaped a dry smile. “It’s bad for trade.”

“I’ll call for troops to come into Reschan,” Draken offered. “A peace-keeping contingent. Reschan can once again act as a wall between the Brînians and the Arkasians, maybe even a bridge of sorts, if we can make peace here.”

“A few more Greens in this city won’t stop war.” Va Khlar’s tone was scornful. “We need more than a contingent. We need an army, and you’re the one to lead it.”

Draken laughed, a quick, harsh noise. “That’s a leap. I’ve troops of my own, but I don’t command the main army. It’s Reavan’s post.”

Va Khlar’s gaze skittered away, to Tyrolean and then back to Draken. “I’ve admitted it; I was ready to launch a full-on rebellion. But I started rethinking things because of you, my lord. From what I’ve heard, you’re an honorable man. And while Elena might be frightened, she is not stupid. I think she means for you to take command. I think she senses war as the rest of us do, and she believes you can head it off.”

He’s a sharp one, this Va Khlar,
Bruche said.

Osias met Draken’s gaze with a small nod.

Draken thought of Elena confiding in him the night they’d been together. “Queen Elena would have peace between her peoples,” he said quietly. “It is what she craves above all else. But what part she expects me to take in it, I don’t know.”

“I’d like to hear from you, why did she choose you?” Va Khlar asked.

Gods,
he thought.
I’m here as a criminal. An exile. I don’t belong here.

But you belong to Elena now,
Bruche answered
. Answer the man as an act of faith.

“I think Elena took a fancy to me…” Draken thought how to put it without disparaging her and a smile snuck through as he recalled what she’d said. But it was too intimate. “Truth? I stopped Aarinnaie. She put her trust in me for that.”

“Having met you now, I better understand her faith in you and the mistake I nearly made in killing her. It’s one I owe you recompense for. Call me in need, Night Lord, and my clan is yours.”

“I’ll accept your offer, of course, but my main goal is to head off war by returning Aarinnaie to her father.”

Va Khlar smiled. “I do intend to give Aarinnaie to you, if that’s your fear. But one happenstance is not big enough to stop war. We need something bigger. We need the threat of the Akrasian army in its entirety to keep peace. And they need you at their head so they fight the correct enemy.” He paused and his eyes narrowed at Osias, who stared back, expressionless. “Akrasians cannot waste lives on Brînians when there are banes about.”