The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three (3 page)

Chapter Five

Moisture dripped from the walls
of the dark tunnels deep beneath the earth. The Queen's domain...her lair...was
under the city of Naeth. It was a fitting place to the Queen of Thieves to make
her home. The maze of tunnels were like filaments of a silken web, luring her
prey in to their deaths.

            Roskel was the fly.

            Any time he met
Selana he knew she held his life in her hands. It did not matter how powerful
he was - he had an idea that the whole of the Sturman armies would have a hard
time taking down the Queen of Thieves in her own domain. It was a deadly place,
and she would have been a deadly foe. And yet, here he was, in her underworld
again, counting her an ally...and more? He could not resist...he was powerless.
Not quite under her sway, but close. Too close, he knew.

            His journey took many
turns, his shaven head breaking many spider's webs along the way, but the
journey to the Queen's rooms was like a habit, now, like the thoughts he had of
the Queen - a habit he could not break. He did not need to see her quite so
often. He was a powerful man in his own right. But he ran to her each time she
called. Drawn closer to the spider, the witch, the...what was she? How old was
she?

            How dangerous?

            He had no doubt she
could reach out and have any life taken should she so wish. The Thieves'
Covenant of Naeth were hers to command, perhaps The Thieves' Covenants of every
city in Sturma. Roskel knew her web spread wide and far.

            She could have him
killed anytime she wanted. Perhaps that was part of the allure. Roskel, who had
once been a dandy and a philanderer, maker of cuckolds and lover of the finery
of a courtesan's silken purse. Now, in the thrall of the Queen's beauty, he was
nearly powerless.

            But no longer. He
would not answer Filcher's summons to the Lady any more. Enough was enough...at
least this time, this call, had been at his own behest.

            Hadn't it?

            He opened his eyes,
suddenly aware again of his surroundings.

            'Fool,' he told
himself, for he stood before the Queen's chambers as though he had walked the
dark path to her door in a dream. Of course she'd wanted him to come...like he
could have invited himself...else why had Filcher been there? By chance?

            'Fool,' he said
again. But he knocked, just the same. It wouldn't do to enter the Lady's
chambers and interrupt her business. That kind of familiarity could cost a man
his life.

*

Chapter Six

Roskel pushed open the door to
the Lady's chambers as he was bid enter. The door moved smoothly though his
legs almost betrayed him as he walked in.

           
Hold it together,
Roskel,
he chided himself.
You're the Lord Protector of Sturma, Brindle
damn it.

            But he was in her
thrall, and denying it didn't make it any less so.

            'Thief King,' said
the most stunning woman the Roskel had ever laid eyes upon. She lounged across
a wide bed, her skirts hitched to show just enough of her long, dark legs to
make Roskel gawp and stutter like a thirteen-year old virgin on his first outing
to a brothel.

            'Selana,' he finally
managed. 'You call, and I come running. I am undone, by the way. I'd appreciate
it if you would not endeavour to look quite so...ah...'

            'Tongue tied yet
again? You play me, Roskel, like no other man would dare. You fascinate me.
Still you fight it.'

            'Fight it?'

            'You know what I
speak of. Don't bandy words with me, wordsmith.'

            Selana shifted on the
bed and gazed into Roskel's eyes. Roskel bent a knee and bowed his head. At the
sight of her he was a blathering fool, and danger lurked in every move of her
perfect frame. He had seen how fast she could move. He was not a fool.

            She moved too fast to
be purely mortal.

            'What news, my Lady?'
asked Roskel, keeping his eyes averted.

            'I thought you'd
never ask,' said Selana with a smirk that Roskel caught from the corner of his
eye.

            'You summoned me, my
Queen.'

            This time he could
not miss her grin.

            'I seem to recall you
asked Filcher to convey to me your wish for a meeting...'

            'I'm a fool for you,
my Queen, but not a fool. Filcher came because you wanted a meeting, no?'

            Damn it. My Queen?
What the hell was he getting himself into?

            Same thing he did
every time he saw her. Deep water, then deeper water.

            'Ha, smooth, Roskel.
Have I told you how dashing I find your new look?'

            'Queen, please...'

            'I'm toying with
you.' 

            'And then some,' said
Roskel. He risked looking up. Her smile was something to behold indeed.

            'News?' he said
again.

            'Rena...your man has
her.'

            'And?'

            'And the child, too,'
she said.

            'Can't you bring her
straight here?'

            'You think I have
such power?'

            'I don't doubt it.'

            The Queen rose so
that she was sitting upon the bed. Roskel's heart thudded in his chest. If she
came any closer...would he run? Would he give in?

            But she granted him a
small reprieve with a mischievous grin on her lips, like she knew exactly what
he was thinking. She did not move further.

            'You'd be wrong,
Roskel. Witch I may be, but I have not the knack for such things. A wizard, a
mage, you would need for such a feat. To my next point...'

            'The lights in the
northern skies?' said Roskel. 'They are coming, then?'

            'They are here,' she
said, and Roskel's ardour was suddenly gone. He blanched. The simple sentence
told him everything he needed to know.

            They were on these
shores, and in force.

            'How many? Can our
force hold them back?'

            'Legion,' she said.

            'Can we stand,
though?'

            'I do not know, Thief
King. Yet there is hope. There is always hope, is there not?'

            'Sneaky bastard,
Lady, I find hope to be.'

            She laughed, and he
was grateful for it.

            'Yes, Roskel, I
suppose it is. Can I stroke your head?' she added.

            'Lady! Please...'

            Like a thirteen-year
old virgin. He put his hand to his shaven head defensively.

            She laughed again.
'The Skald rides forth,' she said. 'The Protectorate and the Hierarchy come by
sea and land. You have allies. Never forget that, Roskel. You are not alone.
Never alone. And I will not abandon you. Never that.

            'But Rena, she comes.
My kind come, too. We will make magic unlike anything these shore have seen in
a millennia. You will muster your force in the east and meet them from the sea.
The north is not your problem.'

            Roskel wasn't sure
who he feared most - the hard Queen, or the playful. Either was as dangerous as
the other.

            'The north will be
unguarded...'

            'It will not.'    

            'You?'

            She laughed again,
and Roskel's heart could not help but beat faster.

            'No, the Skald and
his kind.'

            'What? The Draymen on
our shores?'

            'Foolish man. Pride
has no place in war. But no. Not the Draymar. The Bladesingers. Where you could
not stand, they may have a chance. They have a magic of their own.'

            'Ruan calls his
brothers? I thought he was an outcast.'

            'He is,' she said.
Finally, Roskel risked a look at the Queen. Queen of the Thieves' Covenant. A
witch of power. A being unlike any other he knew. Dangerous, beautiful, and, he
realised, someone he could trust...as long as their interests were the same.

            What her real
interest was, he had no idea.

            He nodded, meeting
her eyes and nearly losing himself for a moment.

            'My Queen,' he said
again, and he did not know why, but it felt...good. He held onto the image of
her smile as he travelled the dark corridors back to the castle. That, and a
healthy dose of caution.

            But he was fast
reaching the point where he would throw caution to the wind. He did not know
yet whether he would be glad of it.

*

Chapter Seven

He really is quite handsome
, thought the Queen, as she
watched Roskel Farinder turn and leave. He held himself well - like he'd become
accustomed to walking like a warrior. He was not, and never would be, for all
that he had managed to slay the Thane of Kar, Orvane Wense, in open battle.
None of that mattered. She did not need a warrior. What she truly needed was a
man of honour, a man stout of heart, and firm in his resolve.

            She thought that
Roskel Farinder could be that man. Maybe once, no, but now? He'd learned much
in gaol. Found out more about himself and his love of the country than many men
knew in their lifetime. Just as she'd had high hopes for the Outlaw King, she
had her sights set on a man who could save the country.

            He had a fine behind,
too, she thought, as he closed the door behind him.

            She rose from the
bed, her dress rustling as it fell down to cover her legs, and called out,
softly. Sound travelled along the tunnels. Garenhill, her only true confident,
came from an adjoining room.    

            'You heard?' she
said.

            'I heard, my Lady,'
said Garenhill. His long moustaches wobbled as he spoke. 'You play a dangerous
game, I think. He is a man who should not be underestimated. Remember he took
down a Thanes' army. He is the man that survived Shawford's grasp. You want my
advice?'

            'No,' said the Queen.

            'Very well,' said
Garenhill, continuing as though his Queen had not spoken,  'I think you should
be true to him. Set out right, as it were. Enough of these games.'

            'But, Garenhill,
games are all I have.'

            'I have known you
long, my Lady, and I think that is not quite true.'

            She laughed. Few
could speak as openly as Garenhill without incurring her wrath.

            'I do like him. There
is something about him...I can't quite put my finger on it...'

            'You like him because
he is afraid of you, and yet fascinated...and I think you are a little afraid
of him, too, and yes, fascinated.'

            'I don't know what
you mean,' she said.

            'I think you do,'
said Garenhill. He stroked his long moustaches and turned on his heel to go,
but then turned back to face the Queen on a whim, understanding on his face,
and a small smile.

            'Are you leaving?' he
said.

            'I am,' she said
softly, wistfully. 'I must pay a visit to an old friend.'

            Garenhill nodded. 'Have
a care, Lady. There are not many in this world that could cause you harm.
Shawford is one such...man...'

            'I shall be careful,
Garenhill,' she said through a dangerous smile. 'Oh, I will be careful indeed.'

            Garenhill closed the
door behind him, leaving his Queen to her journey.

            The Queen played
false in many ways, but she wondered about Garenhill's advice.

           
Yes,
she
thought,
yes, I am fascinated by the mortal Roskel.
Fascinated?

            Maybe something more.

            She thought about
this, and about lying to the Thief King, and not for the first time.

            She could have
rescued him from the Thane of Ulbridge's gaol at any time she'd wished, either
herself, or had someone do it for her. It would not have been such a difficult
task. But she had left him, because he needed to understand. And to understand
justice he had to experience injustice for himself.

            She would lie to him
again, before this war was through. Win or lose, yes. She had no choice but to
lie to him.

            So she sent him to
the coast, to meet the force there...so many men would meet their deaths...but
a man might emerge the other side. A man who could see this through to the end.
The true end of things, to save Rythe, not just Sturma.

            To be by her side
when the Sun Destroyers returned.

           
But, Selana, you
get ahead of yourself.

            She shook her head to
clear such thoughts. Maybe she could have travelled south to journey with the
girl Rena and her man Asram Fell, but to what end? Asram was more than capable,
and the girl was no fool, either, and a witch.

            Rena, too, had her
own journey to make, and sometimes a journey was not about the miles covered.

            No, her time was too
important to babysit, no matter the import of the girl and her child.

            Shawford Crale and
the Crown of Kings. That was her business. Her part in the battle to come.

            Decided, she let the
magic come from her body. Let loose a secret that Roskel Farinder could not
know. Not yet. Ethereal light flowed from her eyes, until the light caressed
her entire body, like a sheen of red water. She became
thin
, and then
she was gone. Gone to Shawford Crale.

*