Bridge of Souls (24 page)

Aremys could have applauded Cailech for building his case so eloquently. He doubted Celimus could find fault with anything Cailech was presenting and it seemed the Morgravian King was paying genuine attention and not just lip service. Aremys listened as Cailech continued.

“Nevertheless, my people don’t want to be Morgravian and I know you have no intention of taking your people into the Razors. Let us agree that we are different—but will tolerate each other’s differences. We will learn to admire these sub
tleties that make us the people of the Razors and your people the sophisticated Morgravians.”

“Bravo,” Jessom whispered to Aremys under the guise of softly clearing his throat.

Before Celimus could respond there was a knock at the door. The King looked toward his chancellor, irritated. “See to it, Jessom,” he said unnecessarily, for Jessom was already making for the door.

The other three remained silent as the Chancellor listened to the hurriedly spoken message. He turned. “My king, apologies for the interruption. There is an urgent missive from Queen Valentyna. Apparently you have insisted that anything arriving from Briavel be delivered to you immediately.”

Celimus nodded. “Forgive me,” he said to Cailech.

“Never keep a woman waiting, Celimus—least of all a bride, and a queen at that,” Cailech responded with mischief.

Celimus laughed. “Bring the messenger in,” he ordered.

The man was permitted to enter. He bowed and moved toward Celimus. “Your highness, this was sent in haste.”

Celimus waved his hand at him, saying nothing, having already broken the wax seal. He scanned the letter. Jessom shooed the messenger out of the door. He, along with everyone else in the room, was holding his breath. Aremys had not realized how much tension had been created by Cailech’s proposition; it was only now that he saw that he had been hanging on Cailech’s every word, waiting for Celimus to agree once and for all to a formal union. This messenger could not have come at a worse time.

“Nothing wrong?” Cailech queried, his voice casual, although he glanced toward Aremys for guidance. Aremys shook his head, glad that no one noticed the exchange.

“Farrow,” Celimus said, taking Aremys by such surprise he almost jumped.

“Yes, sire?”

“The delivery of Ylena Thirsk…”

Suddenly the King’s tone sounded cunning and his body language was sly. Aremys felt the first stirrings of alarm.

“Yes?”

“It is in hand, as agreed?”

“It is, sire,” Aremys lied, resisting the urge to tug at his collar, which suddenly felt a tad tight.

“Interesting,” Celimus said, standing. “Listen to this,” and he read Valentyna’s letter aloud.

When he finished, Aremys was convinced he could hear his heart pounding, the silence in the room was so profound. He made himself look directly at the King. “That’s right, sire,” he confirmed. “I sent a message to the Queen to release Ylena.”

Celimus frowned. “
You
did!”

Aremys nodded.

“You know Queen Valentyna personally?”

“Not personally, sire.”

“Well, how exactly do you know her, then?”

“I’m sorry, sire, I can’t divulge my sources. You understand that, I’m sure.”

Jessom could see that his king’s ire was stoking frighteningly fast, but there could be no scene right now with Cailech quietly watching this event unfold. Jessom felt abashed that he too had been caught out by this missive. He had presumed Ylena had been brought to Tenterdyn via whatever means the mercenary had at his disposal. The fact that Queen Valentyna had become involved was something of a shock.

“Your majesty,” Jessom interrupted as gently as he could, “Ylena Thirsk is already here.”

“Here?” Celimus repeated, a storm gathering in the olive eyes.

“Yes, your majesty, she arrived just minutes before your guests. Circumstances prevented me from bringing her before you.”

The King gave his chancellor such a murderous look that even Aremys, who could not have cared less about the conniving servant, felt his blood run cold. But Aremys also realized that the King had been diverted: His wrath was directed at Jessom now, rather than himself, and he pressed that advantage.

“As we know, sire, Ylena went to Briavel. I have contacts there, and before I was attacked in Timpkenny, I sent word to follow her and keep her under observation.”

“Why, by the hairs of Shar’s arse, would you do that, Farrow, when I wanted her in Morgravia? Why not have her captured, man?”

Cailech laughed openly at the curse. “I shall have to remember that one, Celimus.”

The King of Morgravia caught his famous temper, the laughter reminding him that he was being watched carefully by another sovereign.

Aremys, smoothing an innocent expression across his face, began to embellish the lie, his mind already racing toward how he might get to Wyl before anyone else to ensure that their stories coincided. If Wyl told a different tale, they were both as good as dead. “I figured that the noblewoman would be dangerous wherever I held her in Morgravia, your highness. And as I didn’t have her in my own hands, I thought it best just to have her watched. I knew I could get to her whenever I needed to so long as I knew where she was based. I also felt she was a captive of her own fears, sire. If she felt safe in Briavel, she would not leave the realm and I would not have to give further chase.”

“But when did you plan to carry out your mission for me?” Celimus asked, following the Grenadyne’s line of thought.

Good question,
Aremys acknowledged silently. Again Wyl’s warning about Celimus’s sharp mind nudged him. “Immediately, sire. I was in the north, and Ylena Thirsk was presumably well south by then, which meant I didn’t have to hurry and run unnecessary risks of being discovered. I knew my people would pick up her trail and keep watch until I was ready to make my move. I didn’t expect to be carried into the Razors, sire. That was a surprise.” He glanced at Cailech, whose mouth was, as he had expected, twisted into a wry grin. “And a good thing too that I had people on task in Briavel.”

“So then what?” Celimus persisted. The mercenary began
to wonder if the King was simply toying with him before calling for the death squad.

“My people are tactically placed, sire. It was simply a matter of getting word to them from the Razors.”

Celimus switched his attention to his royal guest. “You were aware of this word being sent, presumably, Cailech? If Aremys is your prisoner, as he tells me, surely you didn’t give him such freedom as to pass messages out of your realm to enemy states?” It was phrased as a question, but no one could miss the challenge in the Morgravian’s words.

To his credit, Cailech did not so much as hesitate. Aremys had told him about his plan to use Ylena Thirsk as bait; he would have to trust his new friend. “I permitted him a message, yes. It was to Briavel, to a dignitary in the Queen’s court. You must remember, Celimus, that you and I were enemies until just moments ago. I would have done anything to undermine you. Allowing this man to send a message into Briavel did not disturb me. Had I known at the time that he was working on your behalf, I might not have been so generous.”

Satisfied, Celimus returned a steely gaze to Aremys.

“Anyway, Celimus, has this not achieved the outcome you wished for?” Cailech’s question surprised everyone.

“Pardon me?” the King of Morgravia managed.

The Mountain King waved a hand in mock disgust. “It’s just that we seem to be wasting time over petty details. You wanted this woman, you have her. Aremys has delivered as he said he would. Why is there a case to argue?”

There was no accounting for the moods of Celimus or the shifts in his thinking. His whole body seemed to relax as he considered Cailech’s question, and Aremys could not help but compare the two kings’ capriciousness. They made a good match.

“Why indeed, my friend?” Celimus echoed. “You are right,” he added, nodding slightly at his guest and then returning his attention to the mercenary. “Thank you, Aremys, for delivering Ylena into my hands. To be honest, I hadn’t thought you would trust me sufficiently to hand over the bait you dangled
in front of my nose
before
you and your new employer left my realm for the safety of the Razors. After all, it was to be your insurance.” His last few words were not lost on anyone in that chamber.

Aremys took the moment to bow, covering his relief. Straightening, he said, “Your majesty, as I have explained before, I am a mercenary and always for hire. You have shown me nothing but generosity and I would have been foolhardy not to trust such a powerful monarch.” He nodded at the King. “I would like to be able to work for you often, sire. Ylena Thirsk is nothing to me. My communication to your queen simply suggested that the person to whom she offered sanctuary was your open enemy, and that she would be wise not to risk her new king’s wrath by sheltering her.”

“And it worked, by Shar!” Celimus said. “You are a cunning man, Aremys Farrow.”

As are you, you snake,
Aremys thought; instead he said: “I am simply a man for hire, my lord. I take opportunities where and when they present themselves. Do you still wish me to kill her, sire?”

“I think I can manage that myself if and when needed,” Celimus said, a cruel smile flitting over his mouth. Cailech frowned but held his tongue. “So where is she?” the King continued, looking at Jessom.

“In one of the outhouses, sire. I said you would summon her at your pleasure.”

“And how is she?”

“Surprisingly feisty,” Jessom commented.

“The Thirsk girl has found some spine, has she? I shall enjoy seeing this. So will you, Cailech. Do you know of the Thirsks?”

“Only by reputation,” the Mountain King said. “This is the daughter of General Fergys Thirsk, I presume?”

“Mmm, yes, the sister of Wyl Thirsk—finally back in my care.” Celimus laughed. “Have her presented to me during this afternoon’s feast, Jessom. I should like Cailech to see how we deal with treachery in Morgravia.”

Aremys felt his blood run cold. He needed to warn Wyl. The thought that his friend would probably die again in a few hours disturbed the Grenadyne so much that he could not breathe. He loosened his collar.

“May I see her?” he said, shocked that he had spoken without thinking it through.

“Why?” Celimus looked at him sideways.

Aremys thought quickly. “She knew I was following her, sire. I just want to remind her that I always catch my prey.”

Celimus clapped. “You have a nasty streak, Grenadyne. By all means. Jessom will go with you. Get her ready for us,” he said to his chancellor.

He turned to Cailech. “Let us get some air. How about a ride—just us? That horse of yours looks splendid. I should like to try him out for myself.”

The Mountain King smiled. “Delighted. Am I to assume that we are done here? Formalities concluded?”

“Well, my friend,” Celimus replied, Cailech noting this was the second time the southern King had addressed him in this way, “I am about to be married to the most beautiful woman of our age. Aremys here has just kept his word and delivered to me the last of the Thirsks, whom I shall see die before my eyes shortly. I can’t think of anything I feel like dealing with less right now than the threat of war between our realms—which is what I presume is the alternative to an alliance?”

Cailech watched his counterpart carefully as he spoke. This man had no intention of honoring a union. What he wanted was sovereignty over Briavel and the Razor Kingdom. The marriage achieved the first, and the pretense of friendship would achieve the second. The green gazes of two powerful men met and each understood the other very clearly.

“It would mean war, yes,” Cailech finally answered, realizing what a sham this whole event had been. His thought that he could charm this man or appeal to his good sense amused him suddenly. He had been carried away by the vision of the Grenadyne, but both of them had misunderstood the main
point: Celimus did not want friendship or even harmony. All the King of Morgravia wanted was absolute authority over his neighbors. Neither Cailech nor Aremys had factored in the southerner’s avarice or his self-delusion of might. They had entered into the parley like excited boys, stupidly believing that Celimus would also be seeking peace, trade, community. How innocent and how ignorant they had been. And now he was trapped. Would Celimus allow them to leave here alive? He might not care for the lives of those he held prisoner, and Aremys had delivered Ylena Thirsk early. Why? What had he to gain from that?

“That must be avoided, then,” Celimus commented. Cailech had to remember what he was referring to.
Ah yes, war.
It was time to unleash his final trick then, all that stood between him and certain death at the end of this man’s sword—or more likely, that of one of the King’s henchmen. It was unlikely Celimus would dirty his hands with Mountain blood.

“King Celimus,” Cailech said, standing now to look at his enemy eye to eye. “My emissary here, Aremys Farrow, may be far too trusting, but I am not. Until now I could not be sure you would see things in a similar way to me. I had to take the precaution that your desires might differ from mine.”

Aremys felt the temperature in the hall drop. The gently crackling fires at either end of the room had no effect on the cold that descended. He had to admire Celimus when the southern King barely twitched at the couched threat that now lay between the two monarchs. What had Cailech kept up his sleeve?

Celimus asked the question that burned at Aremys’s and Jessom’s lips. “Ah, further insurance, I gather. Tell me, King Cailech, so that I understand clearly, why is it that, although you don’t trust me, neither do you fear me, even though you are on my land, in my house, under my guards’ watchful eyes?”

“Please don’t take it personally, Celimus. It’s simply the caution of a king who knows how easy it is to give trust too quickly.”

Celimus nodded indulgently as if to say he truly understood.

“There are two thousand Razor warriors currently gathered in the foothills,” Cailech said.