Tyrant's Blood (33 page)

Loethar had watched his mother’s body burn. It had taken most of the day and had been done in the traditional Steppes manner in a remote, disused courtyard of Brighthelm. He’d ensured that his own people had built the fire so it was assembled correctly around his mother’s corpse before he had dismissed everyone, including Father Briar. He had held the burning torch that would ignite the first flames of the pyre and alone he had committed her soul to the gods, with none of the usual rituals or lengthy prayers.

The castle had fallen silent. He wondered about his daughter, whether she had died during these last hours. He’d lost track of time; only the sky told him it was night. The full moon illuminated the remains of his mother. He had stood in the same position for hours and now, finally, he stretched, sighing at the creak of his bones and the tightness in his muscles. Reaching for the huge mallet, Loethar hefted it onto his shoulder before striding to the embers that had cooled only just enough to permit him to get close. He took aim and with a few determined blows he smashed up his mother’s bones—everything but her skull.

Loethar retrieved a box from where he had stood for most of the day and with a small broom he scooped as much of his mother’s ashes as he could into the box before sealing it tightly. Lifting her skull, he placed it into a sack he had also reserved for this purpose. The skull would need to be prepared properly: cleaned of all flesh,
baked in the sun and then returned to the Steppes to be placed amongst the ridges and caves of the region of Dara Negev’s birth. She would share eternity with her forebears; he would do this much for her. Negev might well have married the right man to claim her legal position but somehow Loethar felt sure that if women were permitted to fight for supremacy and leadership in the same way, then his mother would have claimed rulership of the tribes. She had been a forbidding woman all of her life and he imagined had she not been beautiful in her early years, no man would have taken her on.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Father Briar. ‘I have kept a vigil for your mother in the chapel through the night,’ the priest said.

‘That was not necessary, Father Briar. She is not a believer of Lo.’

‘But I am, my lord, and this is how we pray for the souls we farewell.’

Loethar nodded. ‘I’m touched by your compassion. Thank you.’ He sighed. ‘An era died with her.’

‘You have created a new era, my lord.’

‘Is it the right one?’

Father Briar blinked. ‘Do you doubt it?’

Loethar shook his head. ‘I felt it was important ten anni ago. But sometimes now I wonder.’

‘About what?’

‘Whether we couldn’t have achieved the same result without so much bloodshed. But, then again, I am reminded of my rage.’

Father Briar didn’t understand him, but Loethar didn’t intend for him to.

‘What will you do with Dara Negev’s ashes, my lord?’ the priest asked. ‘Can I—’

‘I shall take them to my half-brother. He and I will scatter them to the four winds, as is the custom.’

‘Very good. Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Yes, Father Briar. You can tell my wife not to wait for me.’

Briar looked uncomfortable. ‘Your daughter succumbed, my lord.’

‘I knew she would. Have her body entombed in the chapel.’

Briar looked shocked. ‘With the Valisars?’

‘Yes. You may also conduct a Set ceremony for her funeral according to my wife’s wishes. There will be no need to include any Steppes formalities for her.’

‘As you wish, my lord,’ Briar murmured. ‘What shall I tell the empress about your departure?’

‘Nothing. Just tell her I’ve gone to find General Stracker. And that I suggest, when she’s well enough, she make her way to the convent in the northeast. She’ll know which one. She has been there before.’

‘Convent, my lord?’

‘Tell the empress if I should see her again I will kill her. And that only my mourning is preventing me from doing so now.’

‘My…my lord. I don’t understand.’

‘You don’t need to. But she will. You might care to mention that while she has spies, I have suspicions. I cannot prove them so I cannot deal with her as I would like, but I am giving her an opportunity to escape my wrath. Tell her she is to leave as soon as she can sit a horse and she is to go to the convent directly, or I will hunt her down.’

Father Briar looked deeply shaken.

Loethar moved. ‘I am heading north. Alone. Tell no one, Briar, or your head will roll as well.’

Stracker barged in unannounced. It was early morning and the household was only just stirring. Fortunately Vulpan was an early riser and had been awake and dressed well before dawn. He had been unable to sleep peacefully, the taste of the pastor’s blood lingering in his mind as much as his mouth. He knew the man was lying but he was good at it and Vulpan wanted to know what the pastor—if he was one—was hiding.

Although, unlike Shorgan, he could not gauge the power
available to a Vested, his refined skills could sort between bloods and taste differences. He had tasted blood like the priest’s only once before. It wasn’t recent but it was also not so long ago that he couldn’t recall the taste with clarity. He couldn’t recall the person precisely yet, but he knew she had been a woman…the taste of the blood told him that much. She had also been Vested, endowed with an immensely strong power, according to Shorgan. Vulpan racked his mind for details but he couldn’t remember. He would know her, of course, if she crossed his path. He was just thinking he would need to mention it to Stracker when he heard the telltale sound of the general’s booming voice.

He stepped out from his private chambers and walked down the stairs. ‘General Stracker. How good to see you,’ he lied. ‘Welcome back to Woodingdene.’

‘Vulpan,’ Stracker said, nodding, Without preamble he baldly continued, ‘We have orders. We leave immediately.’

‘To where, general?’ Vulpan asked, surprised, arriving at the penultimate stair and stopping to avoid being completely dwarfed by the huge man.

‘North.’

Vulpan frowned. ‘But we’ll get there. I haven’t finished in the midlands yet. I thought—’

‘New orders, Vulpan. Don’t question them.’

Vulpan nodded an apology. ‘Of course, general. Can I offer you some refreshment?’

‘We’re waiting for fresh horses so I will take some ale and perhaps your cook can rustle up some food for my men.’

‘I shall organise it immediately. Please go into the front salon.’ Vulpan gestured towards the room before calling orders to a nearby servant. He followed the general into the elegant room. ‘I have some intriguing news, too.’

‘Where is Shorgan?’

Vulpan blinked, disguising his irritation at being ignored. ‘Still sleeping, I imagine. Dawn is a while off.’ He glanced out the
window at the softly lightening sky. ‘He rarely arises before the cockerels begin to call.’

‘So, you’ve listed the Vested we sent here?’

‘All of them.’

‘Good. Where are they now?’

‘They’ve been taken to the Dragonsback Mountains as ordered.’

‘Excellent. Now, you said you had news. What else did you have to report?’

‘A married couple was brought here. They were on their way to Brighthelm. Both Vested. I have listed them.’

The general looked understandably unimpressed. ‘Did you send them with the others?’

‘No, general, I did not.’

Stracker raised an eyebrow. ‘We have strict guidelines.’

‘I realise this, but-’

‘But nothing! You take your orders from me. You do not make your own decisions that contravene those orders.’

‘No, general. But in this instance the man in question was in the direct employ of the emperor. Forgive me if I have made an error in judgement, but I presumed the emperor’s wishes were of the utmost importance.’

Stracker stared, frowning at Vulpan as though he were simple. Before he could respond there was a knock at the door and two servants arrived, bearing food and drink.

‘Set it down there for the general,’ Vulpan directed. ‘And then leave us.’

Once the door had closed again behind the men, Stracker exploded. ‘Who was this man?’

‘He used the name Kirin Felt.’

‘Felt? Aha, and so he turns up!’ Stracker said gleefully, his wrath evaporating.

‘So you do know of him?’

‘Yes, he does work at the palace. He is a declared Vested and works alongside a man called Freath, an aide to the emperor.
Freath was a slippery character I never trusted. I don’t trust Felt either but he’s quiet, avoids attracting interest.’

Vulpan nodded. ‘Then I’m glad I trusted my instincts and let him return. I would not have wanted to risk the anger of the emperor in holding up his own staff.’

‘Except that very man is now wanted by the emperor. We have reason to believe he is connected with the death of the aide.’

‘What? No! He did not strike me as a man on the run. He was on his way with a merchant caravan back into Penraven city, to Brighthelm.’

‘He didn’t seem nervous, agitated?’

Vulpan shook his head. ‘Unhappy at being brought here, of course, but otherwise he was keen to oblige. He and his wife both—’

Stracker had been picking at the savoury pastries but he spun around now, the food halfway to his mouth, his face full of query. ‘Wife?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘He’s not married.’

Vulpan felt the stirrings of fury. ‘Kirin and Lily Felt. They were travelling from Francham to Brighthelm and we intercepted them during the night.’

‘He is
not
married, I tell you. He’s lived at the palace for the past decade. I don’t believe he’s left the city once in that time. This was the first occasion he’d travelled beyond the city walls.’

Vulpan inwardly fumed, unsure of who was lying. Stracker had no reason to. That much was certain. ‘Well, we shall see. I have her brother under lock right here. Eat your food, general, I’ll be back shortly with an interesting person for you to meet, someone I definitely do not trust.’

Leo and Jewd had shared the vigil through the night, keeping watch on the house into which Kilt had disappeared the previous day. Leo had taken the early morning watch while Jewd grabbed a few hours’ sleep, but now the big man was back at his side.

‘Here, loaves were just coming out of the ovens. I grabbed you one. Cheese too.’

Leo’s eyes widened with pleasure. ‘Thanks. I’m famished.’

Jewd gave a nod of understanding. ‘Did you see anything?’

Leo shook his head as he bit into the small warm loaf. ‘All quiet but he’s definitely a prisoner, Jewd. Otherwise he wouldn’t remain in a place like this. He’s too vulnerable there.’

‘Kilt wouldn’t even stay at an inn if he didn’t have to. He definitely wouldn’t linger in a private house, especially the one being used by Vulpan.’

‘I wish we knew more about him.’

‘We know he’s dangerous.’

‘But he’s no threat to Kilt. He’s not interested in him, surely?’

‘I wouldn’t think so but my gut tells me something’s wrong. He shouldn’t still be there.’

They were sitting on the porch of a small dincherie that was open all hours and was conveniently opposite the house under scrutiny. As Leo sighed at Jewd’s comment, and reached to refresh his mug of dinch, riders galloped into the relative silence of pre-dawn.

‘Lo’s bollocks’! Jewd exclaimed. ‘They’re going in.’

Leo blinked and stared, feeling his emotions wrenched back a decade. ‘Jewd, that’s Stracker.’

Jewd dragged his gaze from the house to his companion. ‘Are you sure?’

‘He is unmistakeable. Look at him. Do you think that’s a man I’d forget?’

Jewd shook his head. ‘I’ve always wondered what he looked like. He’s as big as I am.’

‘And far more ruthless, I can assure you. He hasn’t got a single bone of empathy in his body.’

‘We’ve got to get Kilt out of there.’

‘What can we do?’

‘For now we watch. If they’re genuinely imprisoning him, they’ll move him from the house, which is not an ideal gaol. When they move him, we have to act.’

‘Us against all those guards?’

‘I’ve come prepared.’

‘For what?’

‘A diversion,’ Jewd replied cryptically. ‘Keep watching,’ he growled, ‘I’m going to get our horses.’

Kilt was led out of the room he’d been locked into by a new set of guards. He was dishevelled and hungry but, more pressingly, disrupted by lack of sleep and the anxiety that with each slow passing hour Lily moved further from him. He was slightly comforted by the knowledge that she was travelling with Felt but confused about why she was pretending to be his wife. Something must have scared her, forced her into the disguise. He had to find her and apologise for asking her to play a role that should have been given to one of his men.

The guard banged on the door to Vulpan’s salon. ‘Come in!’ Vulpan called and Kilt was marched in to be confronted by a powerful man proudly bearing his tatua with a warrior-like air.

‘Pastor Jeves, may I introduce our revered General Stracker.’

Stracker!
Kilt had to hide his natural inclination to baulk. ‘General Stracker,’ he said, bowing his head, glad to hear his voice was steady, ‘I’m honoured.’

‘Why?’ the general snapped.

Good question
. ‘Your reputation precedes you, general. Why, only a few moons ago my village greeted you. In fact, you stayed overnight during our Harvest Festival.’ Kilt remembered hearing on the tall grasses of Stracker’s visit south. Word had bubbled up to the north that he acted every inch a royal, expecting hospitality without payment for him and his men.

Stracker grunted. ‘So why has Vulpan got you trapped in his web, eh?’

Kilt adopted an air of innocence. ‘I’m waiting to hear all about it myself, general. We shall have to ask him; I can’t fathom why I’ve been detained. Has he told you I’m trying to find my sister, sir?’

‘He has. And we’re certainly interested to catch up with her too.’ Kilt’s stomach clenched. ‘Why’s that?’ He frowned, looking perplexed.

The general picked at the debris of what looked to be the remains of a breakfast. He threw a fig into his cavernous mouth, chewing while he spoke. ‘Well, firstly, she’s apparently married to a man we’re looking for.’