Wolfblade (48 page)

Hablet was just about ready to kill someone, starting with that idiot Symon Kuron and ending with his chamberlain who’d come up with this crazy scheme in the first place. He should have just invaded Hythria, razed a few villages, captured a couple of hundred slaves, slaughtered the odd town square full of unarmed peasants and been done with it.

He was pissed off with Lernen Wolfblade for reneging on their deal. Massacres were good for making a point like that.

Instead he’d let himself be talked into this stupid, convoluted plot, which was unravelling faster than he could comprehend. He’d arrived in Qorinipor to find their hostage was no hostage at all. Lecter had killed her without bothering to find out who she was if she wasn’t actually Marla Wolfblade, and now Laran Krakenshield was on his way to negotiate for . . . well, Hablet wasn’t really sure
what
the Warlord of Krakandar and Sunrise wanted.

If they hadn’t kidnapped his wife (and presumably he knew that) why was Laran coming here? Were the men killed in the raid his four best friends? Or was the dead girl a particularly favoured slave? Just to be on the safe side, Hablet had ordered his chamberlain to prepare her body properly and lay it out in the temple, in case Krakenshield wanted to see it and assure himself the girl was really dead. If he didn’t care about her one way or the other . . . well, there was no harm done and it would please the gods if she got a decent burial. Hablet was a devout man, after all.

Lecter Turon speculated that the girl so well (and so blatantly) guarded in Winternest had actually been a decoy, put there by Laran Krakenshield to deliberately confuse the issue. Hablet knew there was a younger sister somewhere, and for a while had been worried that was who the dead girl was, but
Lecter scoffed at the suggestion. Their contact in Winternest had been a member of Laran’s own household, perhaps even a family member, according to the intelligence sent by Symon Kuron prior to the kidnapping. (Privately, Hablet thought that unlikely. If there was a traitor, it was more likely a disgruntled servant or slave in the employ of the family.) The problem with that theory was that slaves, even free servants, who got that close to the family were too well cared for to betray one of their own and risk finding themselves back in the slave markets of Greenharbour. Marla was a newcomer to the household, so it was easier to believe their spy had no loyalty to her.

The trouble was, it was even easier to believe that the spy who had betrayed the girl that looked so suspiciously like Marla Wolfblade had done so at the behest of his or her master, and that Hablet was the victim of this charade, not the other way around.

The door at the end of the hall opened and Lecter walked in, his silks hissing softly as he walked. Except for the half dozen bodyguards Hablet insisted on having here for the meeting with the Hythrun Warlord, he was alone in the gloriously gilded throne room, pacing the podium in front of his throne while he waited for Laran Krakenshield to get here from Westbrook.

“They’ve arrived.”

“What does he look like?”

“Who? Laran Krakenshield? Well, he’s a tall man, really; rather lean and—”

“I mean, does he look angry, you
idiot
? Murderous? Smug?
What?”

“I couldn’t really say,” Lecter shrugged.

“Maybe we should have met with Symon Kuron first.”

“That would give the impression we have something to hide, your majesty.”

“Oh? And we
don’t
?”

“Trust me, your majesty,” Lecter urged. “And if anything goes wrong, just follow my lead.”

“We’re being played, Lecter,” Hablet warned. “I can feel it.”

Before the chamberlain could respond the doors opened again and a herald dressed in a loose red robe and turban stepped into the hall.

“His grace, the Warlord of Krakandar and Sunrise, Lord Laran Krakenshield and the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook, Symon Kuron.”

Laran was already striding through the hall before the herald had a chance to finish announcing him. Hablet didn’t think that was a good sign. The Hythrun looked quite . . . peeved.

“Lord Krakenshield.”

“Your majesty.”

The Warlord and the king sized each other up for a long, tense moment. Although they had met before, Hablet had paid little attention to Laran Krakenshield while he was in Greenharbour. The Hythrun was young, only
just ready to inherit his province, and in Hablet’s view was going to be relatively ineffectual for years yet while he grew into his power and made the alliances one needed to become any sort of effective power broker.

How wrong about one man can another man be?
Hablet thought, looking Laran up and down. Older than Hablet, the Hythrun was lean and tall, with the physique of a man who lived by the sword. The king made a mental note not to goad Laran into making any sort of personal challenge. Hablet’s bulk was mostly the result of good living. If Laran called him out, he’d be obliterated.

“How nice of you to pay me a visit,” Hablet said with an insincere smile.

“You didn’t really leave me much choice,” Laran pointed out.

“May I offer you wine?”

“I want to see Riika,” Laran replied. “Once I know my sister is safe, then we can bother with the social niceties.”

Hablet glanced at Lecter Turon, whose face wore an alarming look of dawning comprehension, then looked back at Laran blankly. “Pardon?”

“My sister, Hablet. Bring Riika to me so that I can determine for myself that she has been well treated, and then we can talk about the terms for her release.”

Hablet turned to stare at the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook who had suddenly gone very pale.

The chamberlain stepped forward into the uncertain silence. “His majesty did not bring you here to negotiate, Lord Krakenshield, but to offer his deepest regrets and, hopefully, to avoid an armed conflict.”

“What?” both Laran and Hablet said simultaneously.

He pointed to Symon Kuron. “Arrest this man!”

“Eh?”
the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook cried. Hablet was almost as confused, but he trusted the eunuch as he trusted no other person in Fardohnya.

“You heard him!” Hablet shouted. The guards rushed forward and grabbed the garrison commander, who was looking as confused as Hablet felt.

“Both you and my king have been the victim of a foul plot, Lord Krakenshield,” Lecter continued, as the Plenipotentiary struggled against the guards who held him. “This man, hoping to use his position as the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook to enrich himself, devised an evil plan to kidnap your sister from Winternest. Like you, my unsuspecting king was also duped. Claiming his foul deed was not a kidnap but actually a rescue, Kuron sent a message to his majesty in Talabar some weeks ago, stating that Marla Wolfblade was being held prisoner in Winternest and had managed to smuggle a message out with one of our traders, begging King Hablet to rescue her. The message spoke of her undying love for my king and the pain she had suffered when her brother reneged on the marriage he had previously agreed to and married her to you instead.”

“That’s a lie!” Symon Kuron protested. “The orders came from—” His
words were cut off abruptly by a mailed fist in the mouth from one of the guards. Spitting blood and teeth, the Plenipotentiary wisely fell silent.

“As I’m sure you understand, with no reason to suspect the lie, his majesty had no choice but to respond to the desperate plea from a damsel so obviously in distress.”

Hablet was fascinated by the eunuch’s gift for mendacity.
He
almost believed him and he knew every word of this fabulous tale was a lie.
The man’s a genius
.

“Marla has never left Cabradell,” Laran pointed out. “Didn’t your agents inform you of that?”

The chamberlain looked at Laran, aghast at the implications of his question. “Surely you’re not suggesting that we have spies in your court, Lord Krakenshield?”

“Of course not,” Laran replied sceptically.

Lecter ignored the Warlord’s tone and continued his story. “His majesty sent orders to the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook asking him to do whatever was necessary to expedite the rescue of the woman he believed to be Marla Wolfblade, which, as I’m sure you’re aware, resulted in the inadvertent abduction of your sister.” Lecter sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, this is where the truly heinous nature of this crime becomes apparent. Fully aware that it was your sister and not Marla Wolfblade whom he had abducted, Kuron planned to hold her to ransom and demand payment from you for her return, take his money and be gone across the border into Hythria before anybody realised what was going on. However, when he learned King Hablet was on his way to the Winter Palace and had demanded that Marla be brought to him, he realised his scheme was about to unravel. With one glance, the king would know the woman he had kidnapped was not Marla Wolfblade and he would be exposed.”

Lecter stopped and glanced at Hablet before saying anything more.

“And?” Laran demanded in the long silence that followed.

“You must understand, Lord Krakenshield, that my king is innocent of anything other than the noble desire to rescue the woman he loved. Perhaps, the charge of a lack of good judgment in appointing such a recalcitrant to a position of power as the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook might also be levelled at him—”

“Where is my sister?” Laran asked.

“She is dead, my lord,” the chamberlain announced heavily. “Symon Kuron had her killed in an effort to cover up his crime. He sent a message to the king informing him that Marla had been unavoidably delayed but he would be bringing you here to negotiate her release, knowing his own guard had been ordered to kill her as soon as they were out of sight of Westbrook. The order was carried out, my lord, on the side of the road some ten miles south of the border fortress the morning after she was kidnapped. Several of
the soldiers on Kuron’s murderous escort proved to be loyal Fardohnyans. Instead of fleeing into the mountains to join the bandits, they brought her body here to their king and confessed their part in the crime in the hope of gaining leniency. They did not, of course. All of them, with the exception of this man,” he said, pointing to the shocked Plenipotentiary of Westbrook, “have been executed.”

Hablet watched Laran Krakenshield closely, acutely aware that the man was armed and very good at wielding the blade he carried. But Laran didn’t look vengeful. He looked stunned, as if he couldn’t comprehend what the eunuch was telling him. The Plenipotentiary’s expression had changed from outrage to a certain resigned inevitability. He could tell he was being set up to take the blame for Riika Ravenspear’s death. And could clearly see the futility of trying to rail against it.

“Riika is
dead
?”

“I would give half my kingdom to bring her back,” Hablet swore, with a touching catch in his voice. “Whatever ill feeling there might have been between us over the matter of Marla Wolfblade, Lord Krakenshield, if petitioning the gods themselves could undo this heinous crime, I would do it.”

“Name your reparation,” the chamberlain added (which Hablet thought was going a bit far—the man might ask for anything). “Fardohnya will do what it must to redress the wrong done to you and your family.”

“I want to see my sister,” Laran said, his voice choked.

“Of course!” Lecter snapped his fingers and two of the guards not holding down the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook stepped forward. “Take Lord Krakenshield to the temple where Lady Riika’s body is laid out.”

Without another word, Laran turned on his heel and followed the guards from the throne room. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Hablet turned to Lecter. “Well, he seemed to take that quite well.”

“Your majesty . . .” Symon Kuron began. “Please . . .”

“Shut him up,” Hablet ordered impatiently. He turned back to Lecter as a guard used his mailed fist to remind the Plenipotentiary of Westbrook why he should remain silent. “What happens now?”

“We buy him off.”

“I thought the whole idea was that
he’d
have to pay
me?”

“That was before this fool kidnapped the wrong girl and we accidentally killed her. We’ve no choice now but to distance ourselves from this as fast as we can. Enough coin and Symon Kuron’s execution should do the trick.”

“Your majesty,
no
!” Symon cried, despite the blow he received for opening his mouth again. Hablet ignored him.

“Her death was no accident, Lecter. You had her killed.”

“An error of judgment for which I shall never forgive myself, your majesty.”

Hablet shook his head. “This feels all wrong. Laran Krakenshield was
supposed to come to me on his knees, begging for his wife back. Now we’re on our knees to him, offering him anything he wants for killing his sister. Why don’t I just kill him, too?”

“Because Hythria would declare war on us.”

“So? My army is as large as theirs.”

“Your army is scattered all over Fardohnya, your majesty. A good portion of Hythria’s forces, however, are currently sitting just across the border. They’d be in Lanipoor before we could mobilise and in Talabar by the end of spring.”

“None of which you seem to have thought of before you talked me into this foolish plan.”

“My plan was not foolish, your majesty. I simply lacked the appropriate resources to carry it out.”