Paladin's Prize (Age of Heroes, Book 1) (33 page)

“Hold on!” Reynulf turned to him in shock. “You want to bring an Urmugoth force into the capital? Are you insane, man? They’ll destroy the city!”

“Now, now. You know we made great progress with them in our recent negotiations. Of course, they are quite different from us in their ways and their appearance, but there will never be peace so long as we continue to assume the worst of our northern neighbors. As I see it, this is a chance to show them that we really do see them as equals.”

“They are beasts,” Reynulf said slowly, staring at him.

“They just want to be accepted by the other nations of the world.” Lord Eudo’s frown of disapproval deepened as he shook his head. “This is just the sort of outmoded bigotry that must end or we will never know peace. The Urmugoths have shown they can be trusted when they fought Sir Thaydor as we asked.”

“They obviously failed. They were supposed to kill him,” Reynulf reminded them. He turned to the king. “Sire, you cannot seriously be considering this. It is madness.”

King Baynard looked from one man to the other, uncertain. “I realize the Urmugoths caused plenty of problems for our ancestors in bygone days. But perhaps Lord Eudo is right and it’s time to put the past behind us.”

“Has Lord Eudo ever attempted to fight an Urmugoth? Oh, of course not! He’s against warfare. Pardon, I forgot!” Reynulf spat. “Let’s solve everything by talking! Because that always works. Well,
I’m
no coward. And I
have
fought them. It is like fighting a damned bear armed with a poleaxe. You try it.”

The Silver Sage looked askance at him in cold superiority, his eyes gleaming like the points of silver blades.

Reynulf met the king’s gaze imploringly. “Your Majesty, the last thing we need is a royal guard made up of monsters. I still have fifteen red warriors who would never dream of abandoning their oath. Trust me, sire, the house of Xoltheus can accomplish whatever is needed for the security of the kingdom.”

“Fifteen against fifty? One hundred? Do we even know how many men follow Thaydor today? How many by tomorrow?” Eudo said with withering scorn. “Sire, let me bring in a mere fifty Urmugoth mercenaries to help keep the peace.”

“And how do you expect to control them?” Reynulf shouted.

“That’s your job,” Eudo replied icily, frowning at the way he’d raised his voice. “You’re the royal champion.”

“Well, I won’t do it.”

“Reynulf!” the king exclaimed.

“Sire, it’s asking for disaster. Do you want the people to hate you?”

“How dare you?”

“I don’t know what the old man is up to here, but if you could’ve seen the swath of destruction the Urms unleashed up north before Thaydor got there… Let’s just say things got a good deal bloodier than even I expected.”

Baynard shrugged in regret. “Still, they did as we asked them. At least they tried, in good faith.”

“I beg you, listen to me. Mistwood has suffered. You two didn’t have to see it. I was there. Sire, don’t do this.”

“Sir Reynulf”—Lord Eudo looked very fed up with him—“you are the greatest knight in the land and you’ve earned your place as the royal champion. But leave strategy to the graybeards, won’t you? We’ve wiser heads and more experience. So, why don’t you run along and do as you’re told,” he finished, narrowing his eyes.

Reynulf blinked at him in astonishment.

Eudo smiled blandly, clearly believing himself untouchable.

Reynulf clenched his teeth. If Eudo were not an old man—and if the king were not sitting right there—he would have killed him on the spot for such an insult.

The feeling seemed mutual, however, judging by the murderous gleam in the Silver Sage’s eyes.

With a great effort, Reynulf decided to ignore him and turned to the king once more. “Sire, if you feel we must have reinforcements, let us call them from our allies in Aisedor. Even the bards of Lyragon would be preferable to Urm mercenaries. Aisedor would surely send troops to help us contain the knights’ rebellion—”

“I hardly think any help will be forthcoming from that quarter at the moment,” Lord Eudo interrupted crisply. “Not after the queen’s displeasure about the lady Sana living in the palace. Remember?”

The royal philanderer snorted. “She did go huffing on in quite a royal snit, didn’t she? Running off to her parents. I’ll be surprised if her father doesn’t send assassins after me. He always did spoil her.” He leaned back in his throne, shifting uncomfortably at the reminder of the hurt and public humiliation he had dealt his poor wife.

Even Reynulf felt sorry for Queen Engelise. He wondered when she’d be back from visiting the King and Queen of Aisedor. If ever.

“I don’t see why she took such offense, anyway,” the king grumbled. “It’s as you said, Eudo. It’s only natural for a man in my position to expect more out of life than just one quim for the rest of his days. I’m no monk, and besides, the pink goddess is worthy of our worship, eh?”

He sent Reynulf a knowing smirk.

The old goat
, as Sana called him behind his back.

Reynulf barely managed to hide his disgust behind a vague nod.

“Ah, well,” Baynard sighed. “There’s the vanity of a queen for you. I do miss her, though, oddly enough.”

“Ahem,” Lord Eudo said, drawing the weak-spined megalomaniac back to the matter at hand.

“Very well.” The king nodded, lifting the front of his crown absently off his lined brow and wearily rubbing his forehead. “Reynulf, we have heard your doubts and have taken them under advisement. But for now, you may go.”

“Sire—”

“You heard your king, Reynulf.” The Lord Hierophant’s thin, pale lips curved in triumph, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “His Majesty and I will discuss the particulars and send you word once the plan is settled.”

King Baynard nodded his dismissal, and Reynulf gave up to some degree. It was abundantly clear that this was a losing fight. The only intelligent thing to do was to withdraw, regroup, and figure out some new line of attack.

“As you wish, sire.” He bowed and backed out of the room, heaving a disgusted sigh once he was out in the corridor.

Without further ado, he returned to his apartment in the residential block of the palace reserved for the king’s most vital cohorts. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment, feeling rather defeated.

Not by Eudo. Not by the king. Not even by Thaydor.

But by himself.

Maybe Thaydor was right.
Wasn’t he always?
he mused cynically. Didn’t his god always tell him exactly the right thing to do? But really. Urms on the very streets of Pleiburg?

Does
Eudo actually trust them?
he wondered.
Or has he perhaps made a deal of his own with the beasts? One the king doesn’t even know about?

The possibility made his stomach clench.

Pulling off his gambeson, he crossed his chamber to hang it up neatly on its peg, but as he did so, his glance happened upon the figurine of Xoltheus atop the chest of drawers nearby.

He drifted over to the idol and stared at it.
Why don’t you ever help me like Ilios helps him? Why do you always leave me on my own?

But then again, cruelty was part of his religion. It was a part of life, so it only made sense that his god was cruel, too.

He picked up the black stone statue, its simple humanoid shape polished smooth in the primitive style. The carving represented Xoltheus as a powerful warrior with a ram’s head, ready to charge into any battle. He carried a shield and a spear, and his wide, staring eyes were painted red.

One did not expect kindness from such a god. But then again, kindness made men weak. If only he could understand…

I follow my orders, no matter how they nauseate me. I fight even when I know I’ll probably lose. I’ve been a model knight adhering to your laws, just as Thaydor is to his. I’ve done all you’ve asked of me. So why am I constantly in pain?

He called himself a choice epithet, then shut his eyes and tried to embrace the suffering. But he just felt empty, and if he dwelled on it too long, the emptiness deepened to despair.

Are you even real?

At that moment, he heard a coy little scratching at his door. Instantly on alert, he turned. “Who’s there?”

The door creaked open, and a beautiful face peered through the crack. “May I come in?”

“Oh. It’s you.” He nodded, his tension easing for the most part, but not entirely.

Sana, the king’s mistress, slipped into his room and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. Dressed in the same gauzy nothings and spiked heels as the temple girls, she was Fonja’s finest, luscious from head to toe, and she knew it.

How Thaydor had resisted, Reynulf could not contemplate.
Why
His Majesty let her walk around naked like that, he could not guess. Unless the old goat wanted the world to envy him for his prize.

Reynulf had done more than envy. He wondered what method of execution they would choose for him if anyone found out.

“I heard you had a little spat with Thaydor,” she said in amusement as she sauntered across the chamber toward him, wine goblet dangling from her hand. “The news is everywhere.”

“And with Lord Eudo,” he said with a smirk. “And with the king. And with nearly every knight of Veraidel. And with the world, more or less. Nothing new in that, pet.”

“Ah, but not with me.” She pushed her way between him and the chest of drawers, and draped her lithe bare arms around his neck. “Hullo, Reynulf.” She started to kiss him, but he winced at the contact after taking a couple of Thaydor’s punches to the face.

Annoyed, he brushed her off. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Humph.” Preening, she smiled and leaned her perfect naked derriere against the chest of drawers. “Very well, my naughty boy, I forgive you. To be honest, any mention of Lord Eudo has the same effect on me.”

“You…!” Reynulf suddenly had an idea. “Sana! You’re the answer!”

She arched a well-shaped brow and offered him her cup. He shook his head. “What’s the question?” she asked.

He took hold of her arms and stared into her eyes. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Oh, goody. Then you’ll be in my debt. How delicious.”

“I need you to talk to Baynard. Sana, they’re talking about bringing Urms into the city to help defend the palace from Thaydor’s knights.”

She wrinkled her nose prettily in disgust. “Urms?”

“Nearly all our knights have run off after Thaydor. Eudo says we need a contingent of mercenaries as reinforcements.”

“Darling, if Eudo says it’s all right, then it’s probably fine. He knows what he’s doing. You worry too much. Everything will be well. Here. Take a drink. You look like you could use it.”

“Will you help me or not?” he demanded, ignoring the offered goblet.

She tilted her head and gave him a melting look. “As if I could deny you anything.” She ran her hand down his chest. “What do you want me to do?”

“Convince His Majesty, as only you can, that this is a terrible idea and will lead to disaster.”

“How sweet. You’re worried about the people.”

“I’m not a monster, Sana,” he said in annoyance. “I know full well it’s Thaydor they love, but just because I don’t go around making grandiose speeches like he does doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You’re getting me hot. So noble!” She giggled and reached out to stroke his face, but he knocked her hand away.

“Would you stop it? This is serious! Those creatures will tear the city apart.”

“Yes, sir!” She gave him a teasing salute.

He stared at her. “Are you drunk?”

She flashed a pout in answer to his question and walked away with her nose in the air. “Goodbye, Reynulf.”

“Will you talk to the king as I asked or not?”

She propped a hand on her slim waist, stopped strutting toward the door, and turned. “What will you do for me in return?”

Reynulf gave her a knowing look and asked softly, “What would like me to do?”

She bit her lip. “I should think you remember what I like
quite
vividly.”

“Indeed.” He glanced at his bed in speculation and then at her again. “Talk to the king first and then we’ll see about that.”

She turned to him with a seductive little smile, trailing her hand down her creamy chest and midriff. His heated gaze followed as she sauntered back toward him.

“A kiss to seal our bargain, Bloodletter?”

“Very well,” he conceded in a husky tone.

She sidled up to him again, her stare locked on his. She pressed the wineglass to his chest. “Wet your lips so you can kiss me properly.”

He took the goblet from her hand, raised it to his mouth, and took a sip, then frowned at the odd, faint sizzle on his tongue. He looked into the cup. “What is this?”

“A new vintage. An import from Lyragon, I think.”

His mouth tingled with a bitter aftertaste. He looked at her warily. “Did you put something in it? One of your little happy powders?”

“No. Don’t you like it?”

He seized her by her throat, his eyes aflame. “What did you just give me?”

“Reynulf!” She clutched his wrist as he lifted her onto her toes. “Let go of me!”

“What’s in the wine, Sana? Some new drug of yours, or did you just bloody poison me, you bitch?”

She choked.

“Answer me!” He squeezed harder.

She looked shocked, but the harlot should’ve remembered whom she was dealing with.

“It’s not…poison,” she forced out, clawing at his arm as he slowly cut off her air.

“What is it, then?” he demanded.

“A potion. To make you…obey.”

“Eudo put you up to this?”

Eyes wide with terror, she managed to nod despite his grip around her neck. But he wasn’t quite done with her yet.

“Has he had you slipping it into the king’s wine, as well?”

“No.”

“You’d better be telling the truth.”

“
I
make the king obey, you fool!”

“How?”

“How do you think?” she rasped, then she kicked him in the balls and he dropped her.