Wolfblade (35 page)

“If your
court’esa
came home a babbling wreck, my dear, it probably just means he spent an interesting night sampling the delights of a yakkah-pipe.”

“You think I can’t tell the difference between intoxication and deliberate interference?”

“I think, Alija, that you are looking for excuses to blame people for things, to fit your view of the world,” Tesha informed her sympathetically. She patted the younger woman’s arm and added with a smile. “I know it’s been awkward for you, Alija, and I’d help you if I could, but if you haven’t got one of these alleged conspirators waiting for me here, I’d like to get back to work.”

Alija didn’t know what to say. Tesha was her friend, but she was the Lower Arrion first and foremost. Her loyalty had always been to the Collective rather than any individual. When the Lady of Dregian wasn’t able to reply, Tesha smiled sadly and turned on her heel; her footsteps slowly fading into the distance followed by the squeal of the doors and the accompanying boom a few moments later.

“This isn’t over, Wrayan Lightfinger!”

Alija’s shout bounced off the walls, echoing around the empty temple.

She looked around, unable to feel even a hint of the lingering magic she should have been able to sense had Wrayan been anywhere in the vicinity. Although she would make enquiries to see if anyone had seen him being spirited out of the temple, Alija knew in her gut that somehow, inexplicably, Wrayan Lightfinger had vanished so completely it was unlikely she would ever be able to find him.

Barnardo was a little peeved to be recalled, but on hearing the news that Kagan Palenovar and the High Prince had left the city for some unknown destination, he quickly got over his initial irritation. The mystery deepened, however, when the dozen or so courtiers who had accompanied the High Prince on his journey straggled back into Greenharbour looking rather forlorn and unwell a couple of days after their departure. It only took another day for the story to circulate throughout the city that there had been an attempt to poison the High Prince the first night out of Greenharbour and the High Arrion had magically transported him away to a place where they would both remain until it was determined safe for the High Prince to return.

Alija thought the rumour the most unbelievable nonsense she had ever heard. The symptoms of the poison that everyone seemed convinced had been used in this alleged assassination attempt sounded like nothing more than an overdose of stumbleweed, a purgative commonly used to clean the bowels. Nobody had even come close to dying from it. And she knew for a fact that Kagan had not “magically transported” the High Prince anywhere.

Whatever Kagan was up to, he needed Lernen involved, and this ruse with the puking courtiers was probably an elaborate show to convince Lernen he was being poisoned and make him follow Kagan without question, wherever the old charlatan wanted to take him.

By the time Alija got the news, though, Kagan had a head start on her of several days. She had no idea where he was. No idea where he had taken the High Prince.

And Wrayan Lightfinger was still missing.

Alija’s investigations into the inexplicable disappearance of the High Arrion’s apprentice had yielded nothing. Nobody had seen him leave the temple. Nobody had entered the temple while she was out fetching Tesha Zorell. Nobody had seen or heard of him since. His room in the Sorcerers’ Collective remained untouched. Nobody on the journey out of the city with Kagan and the High Prince had seen his apprentice with him or anywhere in Lernen’s retinue. It was as if Wrayan Lightfinger had vanished off the face of the world.

Alija had tried searching for him using her mind, but had no luck there, either. Not that she was expecting to. She had blasted her way through Wrayan’s mind with no care or intention of saving him from harm. She was a little annoyed at herself for doing that, in hindsight. She should have taken the time to skim the surface of his thoughts, at least. Of course, that meant she would have given Wrayan an opportunity to retaliate and she couldn’t take that chance. It was hard to know how much power he had, and Alija had been fairly certain that, in a test of brute strength, he would prove stronger than she was. The only thing that had given her the edge in her battle was her speed and the scroll that had taught her the enhancement spell and given a powerful, albeit very temporary, boost to her own power.

Looking up from the accounts she should have been paying, Alija glanced at the water clock, surprised at how much time she had wasted sitting here wondering about what Kagan and that sly apprentice of his were really up to.

“Is something wrong, my lady?” Tarkyn asked, sensing her mood with unerring accuracy, the way he always did. He was sitting opposite her, waiting for her to read out the next account so that he could explain it to her. Tarkyn effectively ran the household here in Greenharbour so she always did the accounts with him present. It saved asking for clarification later.

“I was just wondering where Kagan and the High Prince were. And Wrayan Lightfinger.”

“You think their disappearances connected?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I’m beginning to think the whole episode with you and Wrayan was staged by Kagan to keep me occupied while he slipped out of Greenharbour with Lernen. But I don’t see how he could have been in the temple at the Sorcerers’ Collective helping Wrayan if he was halfway to the Sunrise Border by the time I confronted him.”

They were interrupted by a knock at the door before Tarkyn could offer his opinion. Thinking it was Barnardo, Alija called permission to enter. Her slaves knew better than to disturb the lady of the house when she was alone with her
court’esa
.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady,” Tressa said rather shakily as she opened the door and bowed low to her mistress. “But there is someone here to see you.”

“Who?”

“A slaver, my lady. He says he has something that belongs to you.”

“What does he have that belongs to me?” she asked impatiently. She’d bought no slaves recently.

“Master Venira said to tell you his name is Corin, my lady.”

Shocked, Alija jumped to her feet. “Corin is
here?”

“With the slaver, my lady. They arrived at the trade’s entrance about an hour ago, but I only just learned he was here. He said to tell you he knows he shouldn’t have come here, but what Corin has to tell you is too important to entrust to any other means.”

“Corin wouldn’t risk compromising you if it wasn’t important,” Tarkyn agreed.

“Venira’s only here for the money though,” she muttered, before turning to Tressa. “Bring Corin here,” she ordered. “Immediately. Tell Master Venira I thank him for his consideration and that I’ll see to it he is compensated for his trouble. And tell Lord Eaglespike, when he wakes, that I wish him to join us.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Tressa hurried off to do as her mistress ordered, leaving Alija staring at Tarkyn with a worried frown. “If that fool has run away . . .”

“Corin’s not the type, Alija,” Tarkyn assured her. “He’s a Loronged
court’esa
. He knows how valuable he is. He also knows his owner would spare no effort to hunt him down if he simply ran away. Besides, he’s been in your service long enough now to know the consequences of disobeying your orders.”

Before Alija could answer, the door opened again and Corin stepped into the study. Alija was shocked by his appearance. The normally handsome and
immaculately groomed
court’esa
was unshaven and dirty. His shirt and trousers were dusty, his boots scuffed and his shirt collar pulled up to hide the jewelled metal collar that marked him as a slave. That was a crime in itself. No slave was permitted to masquerade as a free man.

“My lady,” he said, with a bow.

“The news you bring had better mean the difference between life and death for someone, Corin,” she warned, furious that he would arrive so openly at her home in the middle of Greenharbour in broad daylight. Although nobody would be surprised to learn she had placed a spy in Marla’s entourage, to have Venira openly flaunt the young
court’esa’s
allegiance to the House of Eaglespike was political suicide. “Because, believe me, it will mean life or death to
you
.”

“Never fear, my lady,” Corin promised. “I believe the news I carry is worth the risk of exposure.”

“Is it worth you running away from Highcastle?”

“I didn’t run away, my lady. I was sent away.”

“By whom?” Alija demanded. “And for what reason?”

“I was sent away, my lady, because Princess Marla is getting married and no longer requires my services.”

“
What?
To whom?”

“Laran Krakenshield, my lady.”

Alija sat down heavily, shocked beyond words.

“Krakenshield arrived at Highcastle unannounced with Lord Hawksword’s son and several thousand troops on winter manoeuvres, so he claimed, planning to head into the border pass. He asked to speak to Marla alone while he was there and then informed her that the High Arrion had arranged for her to marry him.”

“And Frederak and Lydia just let her go? When did this happen?” Tarkyn asked.

“Last Fourthday,” Corin confirmed.

“Then they would be in Warrinhaven by now,” Tarkyn informed Alija. “The chances are good that Princess Marla is already married.”

“But to Laran Krakenshield?” Alija cried in disbelief. “He would never dare such a thing! And Lernen would never risk offending the King of Fardohnya by reneging on the wedding arrangement!”

“Perhaps he would,” Tarkyn said.

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Laran Krakenshield is now the Warlord of two provinces. He has the armies of Sunrise and Krakandar at his command. By the sound of it, he also has Charel Hawksword backing him; else Nash Hawksword appearing with troops in southern Sunrise to protect the border pass might easily be considered an invasion force. Including Elasapine’s troops, that gives Laran a force of close to a hundred thousand men if he chooses to call up the reserves of all
three provinces. He’s Hythrun. And until the other Warlords demand he surrenders Sunrise, for the time being at least, he’s as rich as Hablet. There is no other logical contender. And no other man alive that Lernen would agree to under the circumstances. By sending troops to Highcastle, he’s obviously fortifying the border passes in anticipation of Hablet’s reaction to the news. You can bet Winternest is just as heavily guarded. And in case it slipped your notice, he is Kagan Palenovar’s nephew.”

“But Laran . . . I can’t believe it. You don’t know him like I do, Tarkyn.”

“I would suggest, my lady,” the blind
court’esa
countered, “that it is you who doesn’t know him as well as you think.”

She turned to Corin again, refusing to accept what the
court’esa
was telling her. It wasn’t possible she could have misjudged Laran that badly. “You say Marla was a willing participant in all of this?”

“Marla Wolfblade has steadfastly refused to contemplate a future as the wife of Hablet,” Corin confirmed. “Even to the point of refusing my services. Once she heard Lord Krakenshield’s offer, however, her attitude changed completely. I would say she was more than a willing participant, my lady. She jumped at the opportunity.”

“It can’t be Laran,” Alija insisted, aghast that she might have read the situation so inadequately.

“There’s one sure way to find out,” Tarkyn suggested.

“How?”

“Go to Warrinhaven. You’ve got Marla’s
court’esa
here, after all. It’s really the only polite thing to do. Return her property to her. Tell her you couldn’t dream of taking back a gift.”

“If he’s done this to me . . .” she began, thinking of Laran, fully aware that the moment Marla Wolfblade produced a son to a man as impeccably Hythrun as Laran Krakenshield, the chances of Barnardo ever seeing the throne went from likely to impossible.

It can’t be happening. This can’t be real
.

“Make the arrangements,” she ordered Tarkyn. “I want to leave within the hour.” She turned to Corin and looked him up and down. “Get yourself cleaned up and be ready to leave with us, although if what you say is true, I suspect there will be no
court’esa
allowed in that household with any connection at all to the Eaglespike family.”

Corin bowed and left the room, leaving Alija alone with Tarkyn, but before she could say a word the door opened again and her husband walked in, still wearing his nightshirt. He looked as if he had just awoken.

“Tressa said you wanted to see me,” he told her, smothering a yawn, although it was almost lunch time. He blinked owlishly at Tarkyn for a moment and then looked at his wife. “You look a little frazzled, my dear. Did I miss something?”

I
n the two weeks between Laran informing her they were to be married and her arrival in Warrinhaven, Marla felt as if she’d aged a lifetime.

Neither Lydia nor Frederak had objected to Marla leaving Highcastle. Laran had, according to Ninane, taken Lord Branador aside and explained to him in no uncertain terms that if he wished to remain Lord of Highcastle, he would make no attempt to interfere in the business of his new Warlord. Marla had a feeling Frederak might have objected had he thought Marla was being taken against her will, but once she assured him she was leaving quite willingly with Lord Krakenshield to meet her brother, the High Prince, in Warrinhaven, her uncle raised no further objections.