Falconfar 03-Falconfar (41 page)

IT WAS A high-roofed, formal room. Pillars lined its walls in elegant clusters, soaring up to an ornately carved, vaulted ceiling.

In front of a broad bed flanked by man-high branched candlesticks, Talyss Tesmer was kneeling on a thick, bright, new rauthen-fur rug, right in front of a man.

He was a Galathan noble, by his looks, clad in a puff-sleeved jerkin and sleek hose, his crisp new garments the very height of fashion. His cheeks were rouged and his hair oiled; he was doused in scent. He was sneering down at Talyss in triumph as her slender fingers worked the laces of his ornate codpiece, and using the riding- whip in his hand to flick the translucent silken sleep-robe from her shoulders, so that it fell around her, attached only to her forearms.

"Power," she was purring. "I admire power so much, Lord Telgurt."

"I begin to see what Dunshar's been seeing in you," the noble replied, smirking as his adornment was loosed and swung down and aside, and the woman kneeling before him breathed warmly on what was now exposed.

"I hope so, lord," she murmured, and thrust her head forward to apply her tongue.

"If I feel your teeth," the noble snapped, sudden steel in his voice, "rest assured you'll feel my whip. Bear that in mind."

Her reply was a wordless, murmured affirmative, and Lord Telgurt started to relax and give himself over to pleasure.

"One thing more," he muttered, his voice less curt and threatening. "Deceive or seek to harm me in any way, wench, and you'll be sharing pleasure with me no longer. Instead, you'll be giving pleasure to my knights and armsmen—all two thousand of them who rode here with me. Understand?"

"I do," Talyss breathed. "Oh, I do."

In Imtowers, Maera glanced at her father to see how he was taking this, and saw the same eagerness as on Telgurt's face. Her mother's hand was stealing over to the open front of Lord Tesmer's robe.

But of course.

THE KING OF Galath studied the list that had just been handed to him. It was not a short one.

"Larth," he murmured, arching his brows in surprise. "But he's my age! He knows what harm is done when Galath fights over this throne. Oh, well, I suppose they're paying him well enough... who is paying him, by the way?"

"We're not sure, Majesty, but we're leaning to it being either House Duthcrown or House Yarrove. I say the families to you, Sire, because we can find—as yet—no hint that the heads of those houses are directly involved.

"Beyond the fact that those loyal lords can hardly help but notice that infamous wizards are sitting down with them at their feasting-tables, drinking their wine of evenings, and so on," King Brorsavar said dryly. "Well, they've coin enough, to be sure. And here's Memmurth, of course, and Darlamtur, too. Hmm. It certainly seems as if every mage in Falconfar who knows where Galath is has found his way here. I feel almost honored. Now if some mighty mage would just step in through yonder door with a spell to shield me against all of their magics, I could relax and enjoy a decent spell-battle, until the inevitable dagger finds me."

"Sire!"

"Oh? Am I not supposed to know what's afoot in Galath? Isn't that what kings do, when they're not busy tyrannizing their people?"

His steward coughed. "I believe siring royal heirs also comes into it somewhere, Your Majesty."

"So it does, so it does. You obviously know the tasks, good Ravalan; why don't you put on this crown and ride to Galathgard? The realm needs someone young, vigorous, and—"

"Expendable," Windstrike murmured from behind the king, before he could stop himself.

There was a moment of shocked silence in the chamber, as Ravalan recoiled in horror from the royal suggestion, and everyone else gaped at Marquel Windstrike.

Except Brorsavar, who pounded his fist on the table and roared with laughter, long bellows of mirth that no one dared join in.

"Now that" the King of Galath gasped, when he found breath enough to speak again, "was almost worth dying for. By the Falcon, I'm going to miss this, when I'm gone!"

IN THE SCRYING oval, they heard Lord Telgurt groan in pleasure, as loudly as if he was in a bedchamber.

"Maera, dear," Lady Tesmer murmured then, "you are going to tell us where Talyss is, aren't you? And are we seeing something captured by your spell, earlier, or something befalling right now?"

"The room is somewhere in the castle of Galathgard, in the heart of Galath," Maera replied. "As you can see, it's not as ruinous as the tales have always told us. And what we're seeing is happening right now, as we watch."

Her mother smiled and nodded, gaze never leaving the image.

"Shall I—?" Talyss gasped to the arduke then, taking her mouth off him for a moment, "or would you prefer—?"

She waved at the bed behind them both.

"Take it. Take it, then fetch me wine," Telgurt said roughly. "I've some powder; it works swiftly, and then we can do the other."

He glanced swiftly back at the bed, nodded his head as if it met his standards—and then stiffened as her hot, wet mouth closed on him again, and a slender finger thrust gently up his backside.

Arduke Brasgel Telgurt was not a man used to curbing his reactions, and he threw back his head and shouted his satisfaction. Talyss murmured loudly, too, repeating the same muffled sound of satisfaction several times ere the noble backed away from her and sat down heavily on the bed, panting.

"F-Falcon, yes, that was—magnificent! Hurry with that wine, lass! No, cast aside your silks—I want to see you run for it naked!"

"Takes after her mother, she does," Lord Tesmer murmured, in the bedchamber in Imtowers.

Maera turned swiftly to see how murderous her mother's face was, but Lady Tesmer was smiling.

ROD EVERLAR CAME awake sweating, out of a nightmare of Lorontar the archwizard smiling at him and bending to kiss him. As those bearded lips bent to his, they became gap-toothed bone, and the wizard's face a grinning skull, as his laughter thundered all around him...

"Go to sleep, Lord Rod," Taeauna said soothingly, from beside him. She was pressed right against him, shoulder to shoulder, leather on leather. Sometime after he'd drifted off, she must have shifted over to join him, amalgamating their cloaks and their warmth.

Rod lay staring up at the dark ceiling, gasping for breath and trying to slow his racing heart. "I had a... had a nightmare," he panted.

"I know," the Aumrarr beside him said soothingly. "Lorontar giving you the skullface, yes?"

"How—how did you know?"

"He always does, to someone trying to sleep here. Some sort of taunting he worked on Malraun, long ago. 'My magic prevails over yours,' I guess. 'You may control this armory, Malraun, but you'll never take refuge in it.' That sort of thing."

Christ. These wizards. Reaching out beyond death, across half a world to sneer into each other's faces. Warning what they could do, even from beyond the grave.

AT THE DOOR of the many-pillared bedchamber in Galathgard, Talyss turned, her mouth open wide to show the arduke what was on her tongue.

She swallowed with obvious relish, and with an almost fond smile said, "My lord Telgurt, I mind scampering through this castle bareskinned not at all; I will be proud to tell anyone I meet that I do your bidding, and have just enjoyed your prowess—but have you no concern that some rivals may use this against you? Deeming your prudence too shallow for high office, when... when high office beckons, as so soon it shall?"

The arduke barked with laughter. "Hah, wench! You worry for me? How sweet! High office is given to those who seize it! And as for my reputation once I have it, or my misuse of it thereafter; my dear little playpretty, misusing it is what high office is for." He sat up and sketched a mocking bow in her direction.

"So I thank you for your kind concern, bed-lass, but require you now not to worry, but rather to race like the wind to the sour- faced cellarer I bribed not long ago, and request of him what he agreed to provide me—just a decanter right now, mind; I don't want him following you with two hairy lads and a keg! Why, I— IiiieeeeeEEE!"

A slender sword thrust up through the bed from beneath, piercing Arduke Brasgel Telgurt almost up to his lungs.

Belard Tesmer rolled out from under the bed grinning as Talyss raced across the room to wrap herself around the arduke's face, embracing him tightly and muffling his screams as he died.

Then she thrust Telgurt's corpse back onto the bed and tore away the lace that adorned his chest, to wipe herself clean of his blood.

"Overperfumed pig," she said dismissively. "His seed tasted like butter."

"Did it now?" Belard replied. "He died readily enough—and look! It seems he didn't need his powder, after all! Should I leave you two alone together?"

Talyss looked back at the corpse. "Don't tempt me, brother." Her gaze lingered. "Hmm. Perhaps you should, at that."

THE LONG, RAGGED scream brought Garfist awake in a rush, sitting up with his sword in his hand.

"Isk? Isk!" he shouted into the darkness.

"Easy, Old Ox mine," his longtime partner replied, from the mouth of the cave. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep." The two Aumrarr stood at her shoulders, drawn swords in their hands.

"Who screamed?" he growled. "Someone screamed—I know they did!"

"Dark Helms," Juskra replied disgustedly, landing on her knees beside him. "It was Dark Helms, this time. I'd take us to another cave, but there isn't another cave."

"Besides," Dauntra put in, "Being right here to kill everyone arriving through the gate is quite... efficient."

Garfist yawned. "An' ye Aumrarr are known for yer efficiency, aye." His next utterance was a snore.

Juskra smiled down at him, then at her fellow Aumrarr. "Efficient. I quite like that."

"CHARMING," LADY TESMER commented, gazing at the bedchamber in Galathgard through the scrying-window. "Maera, will it harm your magic if we send a spell of our own through it, to destroy— or at least maim—your wayward siblings? I'd—"

"No, Mother!" Maera said sternly. "If I try that, I'll be certain of two things: destroying this farscrying, and allowing anyone who has any magic at all in Galathgard—and wizards in the hire of nobles have arrived in the castle by the dozens, perhaps scores, by now—to trace us, even after the scrying has ended. Not wise.

"And I doubt that I'd succeed in doing anything to Talyss and Belard beyond letting them know we're watching them."

"Ah. Very well. I ache to destroy them, but perhaps a better time will arise."

"Oh, it will." Maera smiled sweetly, and added, "Lyss and Bel want one thing above all else: power. They're in Galathgard right now so as to be properly situated to control whoever rises to rule in Galath."

"Does not Brorsavar rule?"

"Until the first dagger finds him, a few days from now. I think even he knows that. Were I him, I'd be butchering nobles right and left, and using wizards to cow the rest into cringing obedience... but he's an old man; I think he's looking for a way to die swiftly and soon, that he can feel truly noble about. Either that, or he's insane or being made so by some wizard no one saw conquer his wits."

"Complicated intrigues you spell-dabblers embrace, to be sure," Lord Tesmer murmured. "So we let Talyss and Bel sink their claws into the new king of Galath... and then?"

"Once the struggle for the throne has sorted itself out—the first claimant after Brorsavar falls may be far removed from the ultimately successful one, ere everyone sickens of the slaughter and depart Galathgard—we strike, taking down my traitor brother and sister. Thereby gaining control of Galath and taking our rightful revenge, at one stroke."

"'Our'?" Lady Tesmer's voice was deceptively mild.

"Mother, they stole magic and coins from me, too." Maera held up her hand. "One amendment to my words, though. I should have said not 'my traitor brother and sister,' but rather 'these traitors.' I think you'll find your other sons have been even more disloyal, if you look closely. I've noticed a few things, recently, but was more intent on working on my magic than in by thrusting my nose where it wasn't wanted."

"I'd be surprised if any of my children were not engaged in intrigues in their own interest," Lord Tesmer observed, "but have my thanks, daughter. We shall... look more closely."

Maera nodded. "I'm surprised the hedge-wizard you hired a while back hasn't reported anything of this to you. I'd be concerned about his loyalties, if I were you."

"Well, actually, no, dear," her mother said gently. "He's been reporting often and diligently, and we think highly of his performance."

"Oh?"

"Yes, dear. He's been watching you."

Maera snorted, shook her head, and said, "I see."

"Precisely." And on that note, Lady Tesmer rose demurely, nodded farewell, and strode to her robing room.

Maera looked at the scrying-window. Belard and Talyss had rolled the arduke's corpse off the bed and were putting it to good use, bloodstains and all. "I take it Mother feels she's seen enough?"