Wolfblade (77 page)

“No, it wouldn’t,” the man replied with a hint of scorn, in between kissing Alija. Wrayan’s eyes had adjusted well enough to the dark to make out the two figures entwined on the bed, oblivious to anything but each other. Alija’s lover appeared to have started at her neck and was working his way down towards her navel. “She adores me . . . I can do no wrong.”

“Does she suspect nothing?” Alija asked, obviously amused, but whether by the ignorance of her lover’s spouse or what her lover was doing to her with his tongue, Wrayan couldn’t tell. “Even after all this time?”

“Not a thing,” her lover confirmed.

Wrayan let the curtains fall closed and the voices fell quiet for a long time. The silence was torment. That voice was so familiar; he felt he ought to know who owned it instantly. But a name eluded him.

This is crazy
, he told himself sternly.
It doesn’t matter who Alija’s lover is. I’m supposed to be looking for those damned scrolls
.

Alija moaned with pleasure and then laughed softly into the darkness. “I thought you were going home?”

“Just one more time,” the man replied and there were no more words, just the sound of their lovemaking.

Putting aside the very real temptation to draw on his power to find out who the man was, Wrayan backed carefully away from the window, silent as a cat, and swung across to the next balcony to continue searching the house.

He was between one balcony and the next when it came to him. Wrayan’s foot slipped and he almost fell as the realisation hit him. He scrambled over the railing and sank down onto the balcony, not sure which had frightened him most—his near fall or the identity of Alija’s lover.

Because the voice that had seemed so tauntingly familiar belonged to a man Wrayan had once counted among his best friends.

I
t was after midnight before Nash got home. The children were long abed, surrounded by a small army of nervously alert troops from the Sorcerers’ Collective and another contingent sent by the High Prince for the protection of his heir. Marla was frantic by the time she heard Nash in the hall, afraid that the assassins who had tried to kill her son had her husband in their sights as well.

He walked into the main sitting room, pulling off his riding gloves, a puzzled look on his face. “Did you declare war on someone while I was out this evening, darling? There’s Sorcerers’ Collective troops all over the—” He stopped abruptly when he noticed they had guests. “Lord Palenovar. And your highness,” he said with a short bow to Kagan and Lernen who were sitting opposite Marla on the cushions around the low table in the centre of the room. “To what do we owe this unexpected honour?”

Marla ran to her husband and threw her arms around him, finally able to shed some of the fear she’d been keeping to herself since the attack this afternoon. “Oh, Nash! They tried to kill Damin!”

“
What?”
he demanded, hugging her close. “What are you talking about?” He looked across at the High Arrion over Marla’s head. “What’s she talking about?”

“Someone took a shot at young Damin with a crossbow on the way back from the palace this afternoon,” Kagan explained. He made no attempt to rise. He’d not been well of late and every movement seemed an effort these days.

“Someone tried to kill my heir,” Lernen added unnecessarily.

“Who would do such a thing?” Nash said, obviously shocked, as he led Marla back to the cushions with his arm around her tightly.

“Anybody who thinks they might benefit from the death of the High Prince’s heir,” Kagan shrugged. “Let’s start with the King of Fardohnya and work our way down.”

“Are the children all right?” Nash asked anxiously. “They weren’t hurt, were they? What about Kagan? And Narvell?”

“All the children are fine,” Marla assured him. She smiled wanly, wiping away her tears. “Damin thought it was fun.”

“He would.”

“I’ve loaned my sister a platoon of palace guards and Kagan has chipped in with some Sorcerers’ Collective troops to protect them,” Lernen told him. “We were waiting until you got home before we decided what we should do about this.”

“You should have sent a message,” he scolded, kissing Marla’s forehead. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“We tried to,” she said. “But you weren’t at the cock fight. They said you’d been and gone. We had no idea where you were.”

“I’m so sorry, Marla,” he told her, helping her to sit down. “I never even gave it a thought. A few of us went back to Barnardo’s house for a game of dice. I just completely lost track of the time.”

Lernen wasn’t pleased to hear where his brother-in-law had been. Or with whom. “You actually
associate
with that bloated pretender?
Willingly?”

He still resented Barnardo’s push for the throne before Damin was born, even though the Patriots had been very quiet of late, and neither the Warlord of Dregian Province, nor his wife, had displayed even the slightest hint of defiance since accepting the inevitability of Marla’s marriage to Laran Krakenshield. They lived not far from the Hawksword townhouse here in Green-harbour and Alija was a frequent visitor when she was in town. Despite everything the men claimed she had done, Alija had never been anything other than kind to Marla. She often brought her own children, Cyrus and Serrin, to visit, insisting that the cousins should get to know one another, even though the blood relationship was quite distant and her sons were closer in age to Travin and Xanda than Damin and the twins.

Lernen turned to Kagan, adding, “If you’re looking for assassins, the House of Eaglespike would be as good a place as any to start.”

“It’d be a waste of time,” Nash declared. “Barnardo’s long ago accepted he doesn’t have a claim on the High Prince’s throne, your highness, and as a loyal subject
and
a member of your family, I would never associate with him if I thought he did. No. We need to look further afield for our culprit, I think.”

“And quickly,” Kagan agreed. “They’ve made one attack. Whoever is behind this won’t want to lose momentum. There will be more. And they’ll be sooner, rather than later.”

“Then I’ll move the children to my father’s fortress in Elasapine,” Nash announced. “Let them see how far they get throwing themselves at the walls of Byamor.”

“But getting them there would be far too dangerous,” Marla objected. “Byamor is four hundred miles from here.”

“That’s four hundred miles of open road where they’d be vulnerable to attack,” Kagan agreed. He really didn’t look very well at all, Marla thought with concern. “We’re better off leaving them here where they can be protected. Although I do think you should move them to the Sorcerers’ Collective.”

“You think the sanctity of your Collective will stay an assassin’s hand?” Lernen asked sceptically. “I would far rather you just found the assassins, Kagan, and removed the threat completely. For all you know, once they’ve taken the child out, they’ll be coming after me!”

Marla could have slapped Lernen for being so selfish at such a time. “They won’t be killing anyone, brother. I won’t permit it.”

“Admirable sentiments, my dear,” Kagan said. “But unless we can discover who’s behind this attack, not much more than that, I’m afraid.” He was sweating profusely, despite the late hour. Although Greenharbour was notorious for its humidity, at this time of the year it was not hot enough to evoke such a response.

“Why don’t we ask the Assassins’ Guild who’s paying them?”

The men looked at her as if she was insane.

“Well, why not?” she asked defensively. “If someone has hired an assassin to kill my son, I want to know who it is.”

“You can’t just march into the Assassins’ Guild and demand to know who hired them, my love,” Nash tried to explain.

“Why not?”

“Because it would be commercial and political suicide on their part,” Kagan told her bluntly. “They make their money killing people, Marla, not betraying their employers.”

“Their
employers
just tried to kill the heir to the High Prince’s throne, Lord Palenovar! Since when do the concerns of a commercial guild outweigh the security of the nation?”

“Marla, be reasonable,” Nash urged soothingly. “Attacking the Assassins’ Guild’s right to protect the identity of their clients is attacking the very fabric of our society. It would destabilise the whole nation.”

Marla pulled away from Nash, hurt beyond words that he would take such a stance. He should be calling out his guards and preparing to march on the Guild himself, not patting her on the head and telling her there was nothing to be done.

“I wasn’t aware the whole nation was in the habit of employing the Assassins’ Guild,” she retorted coldly. “I thought that was something only disgruntled noblemen did in order to settle scores they’re not man enough to deal with any other way.”

“Nash has a point, Marla,” Kagan said.

She turned to her brother to see if he agreed with the others.

“They probably wouldn’t tell us anything useful, anyway,” Lernen added, avoiding her accusing glare. As usual, Lernen went along with anything Kagan said.

She climbed to her feet, her anger a warm, living thing. “And this is your idea of a council of war? You’re going to sit here and do nothing but debate the best place to hide?”

“Marla . . .” Nash began soothingly, “you’re distraught. Come. Sit down, darling. I’m sure—”

“Of what, Nash? What are you sure of? That there’ll be another attack on my son? One that might succeed the next time? And you!” she accused, turning on the High Prince. “You spineless fool! How dare you sit there and wail about the danger you might be in! Someone tried to kill your heir, Lernen, not you! It’s your job to retaliate, not sit there worrying about them coming after you next. Gods! If it were up to me, I’d have sealed the city by now. I’d be turning Greenharbour upside down looking for the conspirators with the gall to threaten my child. But no . . . you’re just going to sit there and talk about it like old women. On second thought, I take that back. Even old women would have done something by now!”

Without waiting for any of them to respond, Marla stalked from the room, shaking with fury.

If her husband, her brother and the High Arrion weren’t going to do something about the attack on Damin, she would.

“How do I get to the Assassins’ Guild?” she demanded of Elezaar as soon as she reached her room. The dwarf woke with a jerk and scrambled to his feet. He’d been waiting for her for hours, guessing that she would seek his counsel eventually

“It’s just near the palace,” he said, looking a little puzzled. “It’s a tall building, with green marble—”

“Not literally,” she snapped. “How do I threaten them? How do I make them tell me who hired them to attack Damin?”

“You’re assuming it is the Assassins’ Guild who is responsible, then?”

“Who else would have the balls to attack the High Prince’s heir in broad daylight?”

“Someone who wants you to think the Guild is behind it?”

“What do you mean?”

“In my experience, the Assassins’ Guild tries to stay away from political assassinations, your highness. They tend to stir up a lot of trouble, upset the wrong people and draw unnecessary attention to themselves, none of which is particularly good for business.”

That made sense. It also gave Marla an idea. “Then if the Guild believes
the High Prince holds them responsible for the attack on his heir, they might cooperate simply to ensure their business activities are able to continue uninterrupted.”

“Quite possibly,” the
court’esa
agreed. “But what’s the point? If they’re not involved, then how can they help? They can’t tell you who hired them if they weren’t hired in the first place.”

“No. But they can find the people who
are
involved for me, Elezaar,” she explained, pacing the room impatiently. “The gods know, none of those fools downstairs are ever going to find out anything useful. They’re still arguing about the best place to cower in. Even Nash agrees with them! Can you believe he actually suggested moving the children to Byamor?”

“Hire an assassin to find an assassin,” Elezaar said thoughtfully. “That may even work.” He frowned then, shaking his head. “And no, I can’t believe Lord Hawksword would suggest that. I always thought him smarter than that.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” she declared. “Tomorrow I’m sending you to Krakandar. I want you to come back with Almodavar and three centuries of Raiders. I can bring that many troops into the city without asking anybody’s permission.”

“If Mahkas will permit you to have three centuries of Krakandar Raiders, your highness,” he reminded her.

“That’s why I’m sending you. I’ll write Mahkas a letter for you to pass on, but if he hesitates in the slightest, I want you to impress upon him the danger Damin is in. Point out that if his nephew dies, he’s out of a job. The province will fall under the protection of the Sorcerers’ Collective. That should convince him to release the troops I want. And then tomorrow, I will pay the Assassins’ Guild a visit. It’s time they demonstrated where their loyalties lie.”

Elezaar studied her in the candlelight, his expression one of almost paternal pride. “It will be as you command, your highness. Although I am curious about one thing.”