Sacred Knight of the Veil (16 page)

He paused, thinking. "Now I understand that which drove Blade to kill as many Cotti as he could, after what they did to his family and him. I had not known what it was like to truly hate someone until now. Minna told me that Blade said revenge is a sweet cup with bitter dregs that never runs dry, and I now know this to be true. You sup the sweetness when you find it, but then the thirst for more vengeance fills the cup with bitterness again. After fifteen years of retirement, Blade's cup must be overflowing."

"You knew him well, Sire?"

Kerrion turned to Jadar, searching the man's face for signs of duplicity. "If you want me to answer that question, you will have to swear to absolute silence."

"I swear it, on the blood of my familiar."

The King filled another goblet with red wine, indicating that Jadar should join him. "Yes, I knew him well. I even liked him, after a fashion. I saved him from death and brought him here. He hated me, of course. He probably still does. He is a complicated man. I tried to make amends for what was done to him by finding his sister, but then Ronan killed her. If I had not found her, she would still be alive, which has haunted me ever since. He probably hates me even more for that." Kerrion sipped his wine and shook his head. "But enough about Blade. How did the courts take my decree?"

"Not too well, Sire. They said, as I thought they would, that she is not your property, since she is not a slave, and therefore cannot be stolen. They also said that kidnapping her is not the same as enslaving. Cotti men kidnap girls from their fathers all the time. They say it is a rivalry between two men, each wanting the same woman, and must be settled in the time-honoured way."

Kerrion snorted. "The time-honoured way involves a fight to the death, but I cannot do that even if I could find him, never mind her. If it is to be settled in that manner, then they must allow me to fight Trelath to the death."

"They will not, Sire. The only time a Cotti royal may fight to the death is when a prince challenges for the throne, and even then it only means that if the loser dies from his wounds, the King is not guilty of treason."

"None of my half-brothers will ever challenge me. They are all cowards. They know if they stick their necks out that far, I will chop off their heads. Is there any other way of presenting it to the courts?"

Jadar shook his head. "I fear not, Sire. They were unmoved by your decree, and ruled upon it within minutes."

Kerrion put down his cup. "I will wager that my half-brothers have bought all the court elders. I will not waste any more time asking them to help me. I shall find ways to punish my brothers. I think of new ones every day. That is how hatred works, as I am discovering. Now I must bathe and eat before I leave for Rothgan's estate."

"But Sire, the petitions..."

The King glanced at the pile of papers on his desk, which had grown considerably in his absence. "I have no time, nor do I care right now. When my wife is found, I will attend to it. Tell them that."

Jadar bowed as Kerrion left the room, not bothering to argue this time. He had grown to realise that the King was obsessed with finding his wife, and nothing would sway him from that path. All he could do was pray for was a speedy outcome, and the safety of Minna-Satu.

Minna sat in the corner of her cell, swung the chain that hung from her wrists and hummed a tune. Her situation had improved somewhat over the tendays, which seemed like moons. A longer length of chain allowed her to walk around, and a basin of water now stood in the corner, from which she could drink whenever she wished. There was no door on her prison, which allowed Shista to come and go, and the cat went out at night now to hunt. Fortunately, she was a desert animal, able to survive in the harsh conditions.

There could be little prey in the small oasis, except for snakes and rats, but, although she had lost some weight, she remained sleek and fit. The same could not be said for Minna, who had lost a great deal of weight and was weak and listless. The diet of stale bread, dates and dried fish did not agree with her stomach any more than it did with her taste buds, and she struggled to keep each meal down. The stench that rose from her was rivalled only by the stink of the bucket in the corner.

Once a day, the Jashimari slave boy came to bring her food and empty the bucket, but he never washed it. Her filth disgusted her, and she sought escape from her situation in sleep, walking through the lush gardens of her palace in her dreams. When sleep eluded her, she sang soft tunes to entertain herself, and composed poetry in her head, anything to keep her mind off her prospective fate. Sometimes, she played with Shista on the sandy floor, and her purring presence was her only comfort.

Blade sat up as another town came into sight ahead of the coach, studying it. So far, the journey had been uneventful, and he had begun to hope that it would remain so. Ferndar was only a couple of days journey away now. They had been on the road for a full three tendays. They spent their nights in roadside inns, and the Queen had found little to complain about, apart from the poor food and uncomfortable beds. Gold greased the innkeepers' hands, and bought the best of everything, though none of it was up to Kerra's standards.

Fortunately, the novelty of her situation and the excitement of exploring the outside world had made up for the discomforts, and she had been remarkably well behaved. Blade shared the Queen's room to guard against unwelcome visitors during the night in the form of any drunken, lecherous patrons who thought that she might welcome some company. So far, nothing like that had happened. He had forbidden her to speak to the Knights or show her face, which had prevented her from giving them any foolish orders or revealing her identity.

Since the Queen traditionally never left the palace, it did not seem to occur to the Knights that they might be protecting her, although rumours abounded about her disappearance. The Knights had remained taciturn, which suited Blade, and most of the journey had been achieved in silence. He had purchased four more daggers, which were secreted about his person as usual, and had added a small crossbow to his arsenal.

His gaze sharpened as he studied the town ahead, and he frowned, filled with foreboding. Leaning out of the window, he ordered the coachman to stop. As soon as the coach halted, he jumped down and gazed at the town again, trying to discern what it was about it that he disliked. Sir Raylin rode up, and Blade glanced up at him.

"What do you see in that town?"

Sir Raylin perused the village. "Nothing peculiar. It's a bit busy... for a country hamlet."

Blade nodded. "Very busy. I will wager that if we got closer, we would see that most of those people are men, soldiers to be exact."

"A visiting company?"

"Yes, but not ours."

"What makes you say that?"

Blade shrugged. "Just a feeling. Can we detour around it?"

"Not with the coach, there's no road."

Blade glanced at the forest that bordered the road on both sides. As he did, he noticed a group of horsemen leaving the town and heading towards them at a trot. Evidently they had spotted the carriage, and were coming to investigate. He was certain they were Cotti, and equally sure they would not be as easily duped as the guards in Jondar. Sir Raylin took a small telescope from his pocket and peered through it.

"You're right, they're Cotti. Dog soldiers."

Blade's blood ran cold, and he turned to one of the other Knights. "You, get off, now."

The man looked puzzled, but obeyed as Blade strode to the carriage. He reached in and gripped the Queen's wrist, hauled her from the coach and pulled her towards the horse.

"Get on, hurry!"

Kerra scrambled aboard the big grey with his help, and he ran back to the coach to pull his bundle of clothes from under the seat and grab his crossbow. He marched over to one of the other Knights, who dismounted before he was told. Blade stuffed his bundle into the saddlebag and mounted, turning to Sir Raylin.

"This is where we part company. My thanks for your escort."

Sir Raylin frowned. "They will see you leave, Sir Conash."

"That cannot be helped."

"You're on the run from the Cotti?"

"Yes, and we must go."

Blade turned his horse and spurred it into a gallop, heading for the nearest trees. A glance back assured him that the Queen followed, riding competently, and the two mounted Knights gave chase. Blade had never liked riding, and galloping through dangerous terrain was his least favourite method. He plunged into the woods, the thunder of his mount's hooves becoming muffled by the thick carpet of leaves.

Tree trunks flashed past within finger-breadths of his legs, and branches lashed him. Kerra suffered the same fate, her hood blown back and her hair streaming in the wind. The two Knights who followed certainly knew who she was now, but it did not matter anymore, he had given away the secret when he fled the Cotti. The distant baying of dogs told him that the soldiers gave chase, and he urged his horse through a rocky stream bed with little regard for the danger.

The baying grew closer despite the furious pace he set, and when he glanced back the two Knights were gone. Kerra crouched over her horse's neck, her face pale with terror at their breakneck gallop through the forest. At this pace, one slip or stumble could result in the death of rider and mount. He disliked being responsible for her safety, and he wondered if Chiana had contemplated how dangerous this little adventure could become when she had asked him to take the Queen into hiding. There were some things even he could not guard against.

Coalwood trees flashed past in a blur, and the horses' hooves kicked up clods of earth behind them as they swerved amongst the trunks and jumped fallen logs. Blade had never been a particularly good rider, and now he was forced to cling to the pommel as he was jerked and bounced in the saddle. He glanced back again, but the forest behind them remained empty.

The Knights had undoubtedly gone back to try to delay the Cotti, and he wished them luck, but did not think that they would succeed. Moments later, a shrill yelping echoed through the woods, and, despite himself, he cringed inwardly. Unwritten law forbade killing familiars, and few people had the stomach to do it. The Cotti had killed his wood cat when they had raided his village, slaughtered his parents and enslaved him and his siblings. The memory of that agony still haunted him. None of the Knights had familiars, and he guessed that they had been slain in battle, which explained the Knights' dour, reserved manner.

They hardly even spoke to each other, so he was not being given the cold shoulder, and nor was he a talkative person himself. It seemed that losing a familiar caused this withdrawal. It was probably also the reason that they had given up all their worldly possessions and their manhood to become Knights of the Veil. Knights were known for tackling the most dangerous jobs and fighting impossible battles. They cared nothing for their lives, which was what made them so dangerous. They also, it seemed, thought nothing of killing familiars, since they had none of their own.

The yelping stopped, and he knew that the Cotti had recalled their dogs before too many were injured or slain. It bought them a little time, and might split the pursuers if the Knights chose to lead them away, for the Cotti would want to punish those who had harmed their dogs. Those with injured dogs would be forced to give up the chase to tend to their familiars, and if any had been killed, their human companions would now be suffering the coma that the bereft fell into after the death of their familiar. They too would be out of the chase, and would be useless for several tendays until they recovered.

The tactic was a good one, although he did not particularly approve of it. He had always tried to avoid killing familiars, although most of the beasts died when their human companions did. In such a dire situation, however, he welcomed any help. He ducked under a branch and was yanked sideways as his horse narrowly avoided colliding with yet another tree, the bark brushing his leg. The danger of a misstep increased as the horses tired, and his was starting to blow. He needed something to throw the pursuers off the scent, for the dogs would track them relentlessly.

As if sent by providence, a stream appeared through the trees ahead, and he guided his horse into it, heading upstream. The sound of baying was distant now, and his tactic would further split the Cotti as they were forced to search in both directions when they reached the stream. He glanced back at the pale, wide-eyed girl, slowing his horse to a trot to rest it a little.

A few leagues further on, he left the stream and headed south again, urging his horse into a canter. They came across a broad meadow and left a trail across it that any fool could follow before entering another belt of woodland on the far side. No sound came from behind now, but that did not mean their pursuers had gone, only that the Cotti had silenced their dogs. This was supposed to make him think he had shaken the soldiers off, so he would slow down. Blade kept going at a canter, hoping for a town in which to lose himself and his charge.

By dusk, the horses stumbled with fatigue, and he had no choice but to let them rest. He slowed to a walk, allowing the animals to cool down before stopping. They travelled through an ancient, gloomy forest whose enormous ironwood trees towered above them, bright ferns growing amongst their roots. Birdsong echoed through their ranks, and the leafy roof formed vast living halls filled with burgeoning life.

Night's chill invaded the sweet air, cutting through his clothes. Soon it became too dark to continue, and he stopped, sliding from his horse with a sigh. The abused portions of his anatomy ached, while the Queen dismounted with far greater ease. He tied the horses to a tree and loosened their girths, then rummaged through the saddle bags in the hope of finding food. Coming away with a little journey bread and a wine skin, he settled down with his back against a tree.

Kerra squatted in front of him, her eyes darting between the massive trunks, trying to pierce the darkness. He offered her the wine, and she took a swig, grimaced and handed it back. It was young, admittedly, but it was better than water.