Dark Crusade (4 page)

A sudden pounding at the door brought an end to Kane's dreams of coup d'étàt. He sprang to his feet with a curse. In his concentration he had not noticed the stealthy approach of men in the hallway outside, nor the ominous subdual of the crowd noises downstairs.

The door shuddered under another blow. The men outside were not bothering to ask admittance.

Kane cracked the window. In the darkened street below, men with blue scarves at their throats looked up and pointed. Kane closed the window.

The door shuddered again. It was a sturdy door, but the men outside were using a ram.

"Kane, what are we going to do?" "Keep calm!" Kane snarled. "We'll bluff it out!"

Giving the chart and nearly finished copy a last close look, he Stuffed them into the fireplace and applied a candle. The aged parchment burned readily, and Kane had already stirred the ashes into dust when the lock surrendered and the door crashed inward.

Armed Blues tumbled into the room to face Kane and the long blade that menaced them in his left hand.

"Yes?" suggested Kane evenly.

Pushing past his men, Colonel Jarvo strode into the room. The officer's girlishly handsome face smiled with triumph. A fine blue cloak swirled impressively about his silvered mail. A head shorter than Kane's six feet, Jarvo's broad shoulders and thick limbs gave him a stocky appearance that contrasted to the grace of his movements.

"General Kane, I hereby arrest you for the high crimes of treason and conspiracy. And this man with you," he added, indicating Tapper. "Surrender your sword."

Tapper's half-drawn weapon dropped to the floor.

Kane's blade did not waver. "What game is this, Jarvo?" he growled, his back to the wall. "If you want my sword you know how to get it."

Jarvo gave him a venomous look, remembering tardily that he should have brought archers. "Useless, Kane. Your game is lost. Thirty of my men surround the inn."

"Did you think I'd come here alone?" Kane sneered. "Fifty of mine await my call."

"You bluff, Kane," Jarvo said with more confidence than he felt. After all, Kane's presence here was of Kane's planning, and his own coming a rash act born of the moment.

He pressed on confidently. "Your man was seen in close conversation with one of Esketra's servants. His manner was furtive; it was suspected that the maid was stealing her mistress' property and passing it to him--but when we put her to question she confessed theft of an unexpected sort. Your rat's hole had earlier been marked, and when it was reported to me that you were seen entering the Red Gables, I lost no time surrounding the place."

Kane stared at Tapper in feigned surprise. "You mean this man has been receiving stolen jewellery? Well, I'll admit I was suspicious of his offer to sell me a fine emerald pendant for so little. But the price demanded I at least examine the gems..."

"Kane, the game is over," Jarvo insisted tiredly.

"Of course, if I'd recognized the jewellery as belonging to Esketra..."

"Kane, Kane. The wench told all as the rack unjointed her limbs." But Jarvo knew that, while the connection was damning, the maid had only known of Tapper's part in the matter. Kane was powerful enough to make a stab at blustering this through, might well succeed. Further, his own indiscretions with Esketra would discredit him when brought out.

Jarvo indicated the fireplace and the ashes smeared on Katie's boot. "I see the object of the theft has flown into the night--but we still hold the thief to give evidence."

"Certainly," Kane agreed. "And my men and I will see that he's safely imprisoned for questioning."

"I'll see to that," Jarvo promised.

Kane shook his head. "In all candor, Colonel Jarvo, in view of your openly expressed antipathy and the severity of the charges you bring against me, I must insist that my men and I share in the prisoner's custody."

"Oh, Kane. We waste time." Jarvo wished he could emulate the other's icy calm. In spite of his hatred of the outlander, there was much about Kane that Jarvo wished were part of his own make-up. In a quiet moment he had once reflected he might like Kane, if he did not envy him so.

Stand close by me, Tapper," warned Kane. "I fear these men don't mean to see you have fair trial."

The frightened man obeyed--knowing Kane might well intend to kill him with a sudden thrust, but certain that the Blues would show him no mercy.

Jarvo vacillated, not wishing to stake everything on one throw of the dice by rushing Kane.

In the strained tableau, a candle sputtered out. Tapper uneasily watched its final string of white smoke.

Jarvo remembered something curious his spies had told him. "It's awfully bright in here," he observed. "Surely we can do without all these candies."

He signed to one of his men, who cautiously moved to snuff the room's candles--wary of Kane's blade, for all of them here had seen its bloody artistry.

"Kane..." muttered Tapper in a shaky voice.

"It's all right," Kane purred. "I'm here."

"Kane, you don't..." Tapper trailed off miserably. A quick look from Kane promised instant death at the first foolish move.

Jarvo grinned. "And all these lamps. Surely three are too many for this small room."

Another of the Blues extinguished two of the oil lamps. Only one lamp remained now, burning on the window ledge beside Kane. Tapper crouched beside it, moaning softly.

"Come talk to me, Tapper," Jarvo pleaded soothingly. "There's plenty of light out in the hall."

"Stay here!" Kane warned. He would have to kill Tapper soon now, he realized. He had hesitated this long--not willing to touch off a violent climax to his carefully laid plans, if he could possibly preserve the situation.

The lamp flickered. It was low on oil. Tapper could see the level of fuel in the blown glass bowl.

"I'm going to wait out in the hallway," Jarvo said. The man could break, or Kane could damn himself by killing him--either way. "Soon the lamp will go out, and then it will get very dark in this room. Very, very dark. But I'll be out here waiting in the light." "Wait!" Tapper darted away from Kane. "Look, I..."

"Take this lamp too, Jarvo," Kane said.

His blade snagged the lamp's fingerhold, slung it across the tiny room.

Jarvo whirled in the doorway, just as the glass vessel smashed against the jamb. The lamp exploded, spraying flaming oil over the side of his face.

Yelling in agony, Jarvo stumbled backward from the room. He clawed at his face, smothering the gnawing flames in the folds of his cloak, as his men fell back in confusion.

The room was plunged into total darkness. Tapper began to scream.

The window crashed open. There was a brief glimpse of a huge figure hurtling into the moonless night. The door banged shut.

Catching the sill to break his fall, Kane dropped the remaining distance to the street. Like a great cat, he hit the pavement--blade slashing. Two of Jarvo's men died before surprise had left their faces.

"Reds! To me!" Kane roared. "Come on, Tapper! Jump for it!"

He cursed the man, striking down another of the Blues. "Reds! To me!"

A clash of hooves, and a half-dozen riders bore down the narrow street. The remaining Blues broke for the shelter of the inn.

Kane caught an empty saddle and swung up. "Tapper! Damn you, jump for it!"

The Blues were starting back into the street, realizing the Reds were but a few.

Kane swore. "Well, they've got him--and that's the game! Let's ride! There's hell to pay now!"

And inside the Red Gables, Jarvo's men helped him to his feet. He was sick with the agony of his face. One eye saw nothing but a red haze of pain.

"Kane's escaped!" someone told him. "He had men with horses waiting."

Jarvo cursed from more than pain. "And the other man?"

"No one else came out the window."

"Then he's still here--and we ve got him!" Jarvo laughed mirthlessly. "No one's come out past us. Bring a light here!"

Someone brought a lantern. They kicked open the door, shone the light into the silent room.

Tapper's body, slack and broken-necked, was already slumping to the floor. And although it melted an instant after the lamplight silhouetted the macabre struggle, the sooty shape that gripped the thin throat in murderous hands was clearly Tapper's own shadow.

The garden smelled of roses, yellow and hot in the westering sun, and the chalky undercurrent of baked flagstones washed by the whispering spray of the cool fountain. On the terrace below, where the cascading spring spilled down from ledge to mossy ledge to collect in a deep pool, Esketra laughed softly. Silver-grey willows stirred long lacy fronds in the warm lazy breeze of evening, echoing the laughter of the girl who stood beneath their shade. A shimmer of bright color on the silver and black surface of the pool. Popeyed and ungainly and pompously finned, the goldfish danced and darted for the crumbs that trickled from her long graceful fingers.

Grotesque little creatures, mused Jarvo sullenly, and for all their extravagant fins and scintillant color, beautiful only at a distance. He scuffed his boots impatiently and cleared his throat.

Esketra pretended to notice him for the first time. Her grey eyes widened and her wide lips made a bright smile of greeting. "Why, Colonel... No, it's General Jarvo now! How good of you to call upon me--after so long an absence."

"I thought discretion appropriate," Jarvo answered levelly. The late sun pierced the tracery of the willows, so that splashes of light and shadow alternately masked and limited the white face and waist-length coils of luminous black hair, the slender figure that swayed within the grey gauzy kaftan. Jarvo forgot that for a week he had begged in vain to see her.

"Yes," Esketra drawled agreement. "Discretion. And...?"

Jarvo stepped into the shadow of the willows. "Can we talk here?"

"There are only my goldfish to eavesdrop here," laughed Esketra, looking across the sun-dappled garden.

Standing beside her, Jarvo spoke in a low voice. "I've covered our little intrigue quite well, I think. It is known only that the maid had stolen the map to pass to Kane's henchman. Those two are dead, and Kane has fled no man knows where. The tunnel has been cunningly scaled over, and there's no one who can link either of our names to this bit of treachery."

"Masterfully handled, my general," approved Esketra, intently studying the bandages that enswathed the left half of his face. She dropped her eyes. "Perhaps we should forgo such rendezvous for a time--until new scandals command the tongues of court gossips."

"That wait will be difficult to endure," murmured Jarvo, seeking to draw her close.

You'll endure it if you love me!" Esketra insisted, evading his embrace. "What? Would you have my name bandied about like some barracks doxy's?"

Jarvo fumbled clumsily. "No--of course, I'll do as you say. We must be careful."

"You'll be busy," Esketra told him. "With your new command. And Kane is still at large."

The right half of Jarvo's face smiled grimly. "Took to his heels with those of his men who were loyal to him. Fled beyond our borders. For all I know, Kane's slunk back to whatever strange land he came from. His treason and disgrace have broken the Reds. Those who declared their sudden affection for the Blues have seen fit to make a discreet withdrawal from court. The Reds are discredited. Even should Kane dare to return, the damage to their reputation is beyond repair."

"What a strange man he was!" Esketra shuddered. "Did anyone ever really find out anything about his past?"

"No," said Jarvo, which was not entirely true.

"But Kane might return," Esketra persisted. "His ambitions were obvious. A man of his intelligence and capability might..."

Jarvo squared his shoulders and drew himself up to full height; the extra heel of his cavalry boots brought him even with Esketra's brow. "Kane is finished," he snapped. "If he's fool enough to return to Sandotneri, I'll make an end to the hulking bastard and all his cunning schemes!"

Esketra laughed softly and held a crumb low over the pool. A golden head struggled above the surface, caught the morsel from her long fingers, fell back with a splash upon its slower fellows.

Jarvo flushed. Within his heart he knew that Kane's precipitous flight had been an error on his rival's part, that had Kane known of Tapper's death, he might well have brazened it out. At best the uneasy stalemate would have continued; more likely there would have been open war between the two factions. Jarvo feared Kane, and so hated him. His present victory was a hollow bitterness, for it had been a windfall--Kane's blunder, not his own merit. He wondered if Esketra sensed this, saw beneath his bluster and mocked him.

"So my general will protect me from Kane," smiled Esketra, with a bland inflection that was neither sarcastic nor adulatory. She scattered the last handful of crumbs petulantly.

"And what of these ominous rumblings we hear from Shapeli? Is it true that some madman has raised an army from one half of the peasantry and massacred the other half?"

"So it is rumored." Jarvo shrugged. "And the refugees who clamour at our borders swear such rumors are fact."

His face hurt and his palms were sweaty. He rubbed hands on his trousers and edged closer to Esketra. Except for the purl of the fountain and the rustle of the willows, the garden was silent. At a distance, along the garden wall, workmen grubbed at a blighted tree. The sound of their mattocks against roots did not reach the pool.

"You will, no doubt, be away on our northern borders for a time," Esketra went on. "To personally assess the danger from Shapeli. Kane would have done that."

Jarvo tasted gall. "Orted's peasant army presents no threat to Sandotneri," he growled. "A mob of poorly armed louts can't face a charge of heavy cavalry."

"Did I not hear something of a mercenary army the Satakis slaughtered?"

"Cumdeller was a fool! He thought to challenge Orted on his own ground--in a forest where a snake can't pass between two trees without sucking in its breath. It's four days march across open savannah to reach Sandotneri--four days for trained infantry. For the Satakis there would no march back."