The Seer And The Sword (22 page)

‘Yes, my lord. I rode as far north as Mlaven’s lands, and all the way east to Desante.’

‘How did you find Desante? What did you learn of the Band of Bellanes?’

‘Not much, sir. Bellanes is almost as elusive as the princess, though his fame is spreading.’

‘I wonder who this Bellanes is,’ Vesputo said, stretching his legs to the fire.

‘He leads a band of criminals, sir, that much I learned. King Ardesen let him begin it as a lark, and liked it so well that now Bellanes is entrusted with the most secret missions.’

‘Indeed? What was Bellanes’ crime?’

‘They say all the men are thieves, sir. Bellanes too. Ardesen has them steal things for him. Weapons, treasure, secrets. They say Bellanes can get in anywhere, find anything and bring it back before it’s missed.’

‘Hmm.’ Vesputo’s eyes narrowed to slits.

‘King Ardesen allows Bellanes to come and go at will,’ Beron continued.

‘I wonder if this Bellanes could find and steal a fortune-teller for us? Or a fortune-teller’s stone?’

Beron stared. ‘Of course. He can steal anything.’

‘How would I get a message to this man?’ Vesputo tapped his fingers together. ‘I could do it through King Ardesen.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘If she’s alive, she’s hidden somewhere, and hidden well. You left spies?’

‘Yes, and promises of fortunes made if we get word. I passed out the seals that will bring letters direct to you.’

‘Thank you, Captain. You’ve done well.’

Beron swelled with pride.

* * *

King Dahmis watched the archery practice of his troops. All reports agreed the Sliviites were massing for an attack. The only thing unknown was where they would strike first. Vineda confirmed what his spies reported: hordes of Sliviite soldiers and mercenaries training together, and Sliviite wealth being poured into building new ships. Sliviia already boasted the finest navy in the world, but the new ships were staggeringly large: each one big enough to hold seven hundred men! Initially, Dahmis was inclined to believe his spies exaggerated: the sheer mass of a boat that big would surely sink it. However, he received more and more confirmation, and worried over the news. Sliviites had harried the coastlines for decades, making themselves hated and feared as pirates. But this. This indicated a full-scale invasion.

Nearly all the northern kingdoms had joined Dahmis now, and he believed those who held out would soon seek the protection of his alliance. Everyone knew the Sliviites were massing for war, and no kingdom wanted to try to fend them off alone. Even Vesputo had been sending conciliatory messages, sounding out Dahmis’ intentions.

Dahmis sighed. Should he let bygones be bygones; allow Vesputo a place in the alliance? After all, the might of Archeld’s army was nothing to treat lightly.

With enough soldiers and good fortifications, there were many ways to defend against an invader who hit from the sea. The question was, where would the Sliviites land? Which bay would receive the onslaught? Try as he might, Dahmis had been unable to get
spies placed to find out. Until he knew, his forces and those of his allies would remain ineffectually scattered.

Vineda had looked, again and again, for a vision to help him. All she saw was a terrifying array of huge ships. She couldn’t determine where they would sail to. She thought the Sliviites must still be undecided.

The king bit his lips, wishing he had time to travel alone into Desante. Perhaps he and Vineda together could figure out the right questions to ask.

Autumn was beginning to flirt with winter, bringing lingering frosts. Dahmis believed he had until spring to prepare. Traditionally, the Sliviites waited until the thaw before sailing out to plunder.

At his elbow, Larseld handed him a message scroll. It carried no seal. Dahmis was surprised to receive it unopened.

‘What’s this?’ He turned it over casually.

‘Look closely, my lord.’

Dahmis examined the small, neatly bound scroll. His eyes widened. It was carefully tied in a series of knots. The binding was a code he’d nearly forgotten: his post had been alerted to watch for it, but no one knew its meaning besides himself.

Thank God for vigilant men!

He was receiving a direct message from Dreea, King Kareed’s widow.

The code was one she had initiated. She’d sent him a present of a lovely piece of weaving. There had been little fanfare attached to it; it was delivered, along with a few other courteous offerings from Vesputo, by a small coterie of soldiers. Remembering Vesputo’s poisoned
stiletto, Dahmis had the gifts thoroughly searched. All had been found to be innocent. However, one of the soldiers in the coterie had arranged, through Larseld, for a brief meeting alone with the high king. There, Dahmis had been shown the knots – Queen Dreea’s method for reaching him secretly.

Now this. Dahmis headed up ‘King’s Hill’ – a small, high rise of ground near his training fields. The high king used it when he wanted to be alone. From its promontories, he could see anyone coming a long way off.

At the top, he leaned against a pile of boulders and read.

My Dear King Dahmis. I write to you because everything I hear tells me you are a good and honourable man. I think you should know that the Sword of Bellandra was not destroyed, and remains in Archeld. It should not stay in Vesputo’s hands. I can do nothing except let you know where it is, which my husband told me before his death
.

There was no signature, but Dahmis shuddered at her bravery. If the message had been intercepted, everything would point to Dreea.

‘The Sword of Bellandra,’ he breathed, hands shaking as he drew out a neat map of Archeld castle’s floor-plan. ‘So, it really was stolen when Kareed conquered Bellandra.’ Kareed had quelled all rumours of the Sword, saying it had been destroyed.

Dahmis wiped sweat from his face, realizing the risks Dreea had taken. This was an act of supreme courage. Dahmis rolled the scroll tight and put it in his pocket. He turned his face to the sky, talking out loud.

‘How I am to take Bellandra’s Sword from Vesputo is hard to see.’

When the grim-faced king returned to the archery field, he and Larseld stood apart, conferring. An hour later, a royal messenger was riding hard in the direction of Desante.

King Ardesen waited for Bellanes. He looked forward to the meeting, as he would fine entertainment. Bellanes was everything he had hoped: ingenious, unpredictable, effective.

The young man came forward with his trademark quick grace. Ardesen studied him as he bowed and took a chair opposite the king. The restive, exotic face with its peculiar ice-fire eyes, greeted him with a brief smile.

‘You sent for me, sir.’

The king handed a scroll to his guest. Bellanes’ eyes darted across it. Ardesen saw a tensing of shoulders; movement as if the young man wanted to crumple it in his fist.

‘No, sir.’ Bellanes handed it back.

‘No?’ The king squinted in pretended disbelief.

‘No. That letter is from King Vesputo.’

‘He wants to meet you. Invites you to his kingdom for a job he believes only you can do. Promises to pay you richly.’

‘No, sir.’

‘Yes, that is what it says.’

‘I know what it says, sir,’ Bellanes told him. Ardesen felt singed by the burning in the fighter’s eyes.

‘Well? Aren’t you tempted to find out what King Vesputo wants?’

Bellanes shrugged. ‘No, sir, not in the least tempted.’

‘What shall I tell Vesputo?’

‘Whatever you like, sir.’

Ardesen glared ferociously to hide his amusement as he considered Vesputo’s discomfiture. ‘You surprise me.’

‘Will that be all, sir?’

‘No. I have another letter for you.’

With great satisfaction, Ardesen reached into his robes for a second scroll. Bellanes scanned it. This time was different. The young man seemed filled with surging force.

‘I can be gone within the hour.’

‘So, serving the high king is not a matter of indifference to you?’

‘No, sir. Do you know what he wants me to do?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll start off today.’ Bellanes bounded from his chair. ‘Thank you, sir. Contact Andris if you need anything in my absence.’

He bowed and was gone. Ardesen thumped his fist on his knee in solitary enjoyment, then pounded his forehead because he had not asked
why
Bellanes did not care to meet Vesputo.

‘He would never have told me, even if I asked,’ the king declared.

* * *

Dahmis’ breath smoked in the air as he looked out from his favourite spot. He could see Larseld walking up King’s Hill, followed by a tall man dressed in a quilted jacket. The stranger moved easily along the steep incline.

‘Here is Bellanes, sir,’ Larseld said.

Dahmis reached out a hand. Bellanes shook it firmly.

‘Thank you, Larseld.’ Dahmis smiled at his general. Larseld nodded and began descending the hill.

‘We meet at last, Bellanes.’

The man met his glance with a unique set of eyes that looked as if they’d been heated, then frozen.

‘Your attendants are being treated to a supper, I hope?’ Dahmis asked.

‘I came alone, as no doubt you know.’ Dahmis tried to place the clear, ringing accent. Though he’d travelled widely, he couldn’t pinpoint it. It nagged round his mind like something remembered from a dream.

Dahmis chuckled. ‘Perhaps some of the rumours about you are true.’ Bellanes’ dark hair lifted in the breeze. ‘Yes,’ the king continued. ‘There are many reports of you.’

‘As there are of you.’

‘It’s said you’re the most valuable warrior in the kingdoms, yet you shun killing.’ He lifted his eyebrows. Bellanes stayed impassive.

Dahmis sat on a rocky ledge, looking out at his fortress. ‘They say you would be true to any cause you fight with, but swear allegiance to no king. That you ride
at the head of a band of criminals, fanatically loyal to you alone.’

Bellanes gave a faint nod.

‘It’s even said that this force you lead cannot be defeated,’ Dahmis went on. ‘This shows you a leader of men. Yet, you keep to yourself. They say you’re proud, but allow no servants. A lover of women, with no wife or home.’ He saw a muscle twitch in the man’s cheek.

‘Everyone has heard of you, but no one knows you.’ The king paused. ‘Do you deny these things?’

Bellanes folded his arms and smiled. ‘You didn’t bring me here to learn my story,’ he said. ‘If you did, you’ll do better listening to the tale-bearers you’ve heard already. Their yarns are more entertaining than the truth.’

Dahmis noted the omission of ‘sir’ and thought of Vineda. He laughed.

‘It’s also claimed you can do anything, and no secrets ever cross your lips.’

Bellanes grinned. ‘And what do they say of you, High King? That you can do the impossible, uniting kingdoms sworn to enmity. And that you know far more than anyone can fathom.’

‘Ah. And that is true. So Bellanes, will you serve with me?’

The young man bowed. ‘What fortress must I get inside?’

‘Vesputo.’

Bellanes squinted, as if the sun had suddenly grown too bright. His fists clenched. ‘Vesputo. Why him?’

‘He has something I want, and he won’t give it to me voluntarily.’

‘Do you always hire a thief at such times?’

‘No, indeed.’

Dahmis considered the reserved warrior in front of him. The man was struggling to hold in some overwhelming passion. Again, the king thought of Vineda. When he had trusted the unknown fortuneteller, it had saved his life. Should he trust this stranger with the half-crazed eyes? More than his own life rode on this choice. If the Sword could be put to dark uses, all the kingdoms might fall. And if this man turned traitor, Dahmis might as well whistle to the wind.

Dahmis sighed. ‘This item must not be left with Vesputo.’

‘Then it’s yours?’

‘Do you only steal for the rightful owner?’ Dahmis asked. ‘The truth is, it’s neither mine nor Vesputo’s. It belongs to someone else, who is away.’

‘What is it, and where?’

‘A steel box, containing treasure. A vault beneath the castle of Archeld.’

‘Ah.’

‘I have a map. It shows a passage to a hidden door, leading out of the castle.’

Bellanes looked startled. ‘Hidden door? But how did you find out about it?’

‘I cannot tell you.’

‘I’ll memorize the map,’ Bellanes said. ‘Carrying papers is unwise.’

‘Then you’ll go?’

‘Am I to know what’s in the box?’

‘No. You must agree not to open it.’

‘Very well. Name the time and place when you and I will meet again. I’ll have the treasure for you.’

The men shook hands again. Dahmis picked a meeting spot and a date three weeks away.

‘Welcome, Bellanes,’ the king said, elated to find a worthy new ally. ‘How will you get into the castle? They say Vesputo keeps a constant guard, thick as a battalion.’

Bellanes smiled grimly. ‘I don’t yet know. But I will.’

All during the ride back to Desante, Landen wrestled with himself, taking up and throwing down mental plans for how to steal the pyramid box for the high king. He felt he couldn’t bear seeing Archeld again, perhaps passing Torina’s grave. Yet this task was the chance and challenge of a lifetime. To refuse it would mean the death of his dearest living ambition: to work with King Dahmis for the greater peace.

He entered the camp of his band unobserved, circumventing the lookouts. When he strolled into the firelight, most of the men were sitting together, talking loudly. Andris was making arrows.

‘Ha!’ Landen cried. ‘I leave, and the lot of you don’t even pretend to work, except this lout,’ pointing to Andris.

Chagrined, they welcomed him, clapping him on the back, berating him for sneaking up on them.

‘For a pack of thieves, you’re easy to surprise.’

‘Where do we go next, Bellanes?’ Bangor asked, his scarred face full of expectation.

‘Not we. I,’ Landen answered. ‘And you, Andris.’

‘Not us!’ The other men clamoured like children, begging to take part.

‘I can take only one of you, and Andris was fool enough to be working when I spied. So he comes.’ Landen’s tone was final. They stopped questioning to listen.