Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (23 page)

Dylen summed him up within minutes of meeting him as shallow and vain and too clever by half. A thoroughly untrustworthy character who needed close watching as much for his propensity for harassing any Deir unlucky enough to catch his eye as for his suspected meddling in Asmaran politics. Both Dylen and Riodan heartily sympathized with Prince Sivar for having to bear with so unlikable a spouse.

Riodan put down his cup and sat back. “In any case, let’s assume that Malkon encourages his debtors to gamble away their fortunes and therefore borrow far more than they can ever repay within the time he stipulates. He would then threaten them with a stint in paupers’ prison if they don’t do as he says. I warrant he used that against Dimas to force him to delay the approval of those trade agreements. But what the Ferrendas have to gain from the delay, I don’t know.”

“Profit, of course,” Dylen said. “And not always in the short-term. I studied the information Gilmael sent regarding the contracts in question and checked who the competitors of the corporations and guilds concerned are. Well, surprise, surprise, they’re either owned by the Ferrendas or Jubal and Malkon have considerable interests in them. I warrant Malkon is trying to get a foot in so to speak by slowly dislodging rivals and supplanting them eventually with Ferrenda-backed companies. If he’s successful with Asmara, he’ll probably try to do the same with other southern nations. The prejudice against the Ferrendas isn’t as strong down here as it is in the north.”

“That’s very sound reasoning,” Riodan conceded. “I should have thought of that.

Gilmael and our Trade Minister, too.”

Dylen shrugged. “They’ve got more on their plates than just this one problem. And you’ve been busy with your own investigations as well.” After a pregnant pause, he said,

“I also learned something that is unknown outside of the immediate royal circle. There was an attempt on Laral’s life late last year.”

Riodan sat up straight. “On Laral? That is news indeed. But why did the Halvans suppress it?”

“Partly because they feared it would encourage other attempts but also because too many questions would be asked, and the answer to who instigated it might lead to an open rift with Ylandre if not outright war.”

“Why would it—?” Riodan sharply drew in his breath. “Sweet Veres, they think Ylandre was behind the attempt?”

“They’re not sure,” Dylen said. “The would-be assassins escaped, but one left behind
evidence
of their affiliation—a cloak pin bearing the insignia of an Ylandrin foot soldier.”

“Rather too obvious for credibility I should think,” Riodan scoffed.

“But with lack of proof to the contrary, the Halvans can’t simply absolve us, can they?” Dylen countered.

“I suppose not. Where did you get this information?”

“Captain Talvas.”

Riodan frowned. “But if Amir ordered that the attempt be suppressed, why did he tell you?”

“Likely because we’re kindred spirits,” Dylen replied. “Talvas is a bastard, too.”

“That’s no secret. The son of one of Amir’s cousins they say.”

“Nay, he was sired on a Shenzen minstrel by Amir himself.”

Riodan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “So Talvas is Sivar’s half-brother? Small wonder he’s fanatically loyal to the family. He’s actually one of them.”

“Precisely. And therefore he knows just about all there is to know about the Halvans’

history.” Dylen took a long sheet of parchment from the sheaf at his elbow and pushed it toward Riodan. “He helped me draw this up.”

Riodan scanned the document. “This is the Halvan ancestral tree.” He looked at Dylen questioningly. “What did you hope to find?”

“A possible motive for Malkon to do away with Laral.”

“And did you find it?”

“I believe so. And it might also explain what you observed of Sivar’s demeanor toward Laral,” Dylen added thoughtfully. “Do you recall the inheritance law Imcael concealed from Rohyr when he forced him to marry Tyrde?” Riodan nodded, grimacing at the memory of the Ardan’s unhappy first marriage. “Well, that law originated here, in South Vihandra. But we discovered the Southerners don’t abide the law of primogeniture only after extensive research. Now, if even Rohyr’s scholars and lawyers didn’t know that the line of descent around here is through a monarch’s brother, it stands to reason the Ferrendas weren’t aware of it either.”

Riodan fell silent for a space. When he spoke again, his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Then Malkon was betrothed and wed to Sivar on the assumption that Sivar is the heir to the Asmaran throne.”

“Exactly. Imagine his dismay when he discovered it is Laral who is crown prince.

Since he married Sivar in fane rites, he can’t dissolve their union and go after Laral instead. Neither dare he do away with Sivar since he would likely be the first suspect, especially if he proceeds to court Laral afterward.” Dylen grimly said, “What think you might he do to win himself the rule of Asmara?”

Riodan pursed his lips. “But how could Laral’s death achieve that?”

Dylen glanced down once more at the sheet of parchment. “Laral is an only child like Sivar. His heir would have been Arfen Halvan, the ranking member of the most senior cadet line of the Halvan clan. But Arfen died after a sudden illness. So the next in line to the throne was his nephew, Gavan, who was conveniently killed in a hunting accident a few months later.”

“Conveniently?”

“Gavan’s only brother died in childhood so, with his own death, the line of succession shifted once more—to the eldest son of the next highest-ranking royal descendant after Arfen.”

Riodan quickly perused the pertinent information. He looked up with a jerk, his eyes wide with consternation.

“Saints above!” he softly exclaimed. “Amir’s late consort, Sivar’s
adda
. Then Sivar is now Laral’s heir!”

“Yes. Quite an interesting family tree I must say,” Dylen wryly remarked.

“Convoluted is more like it,” Riodan retorted. “Thank Veres mine is more straightforward.”

“You think this is convoluted?” Dylen scoffed. “It doesn’t even come close to the Essendris’ ancestral lines. I only lately discovered that most of our cousins are related to Rohyr and me twice or thrice over. Even Reijir and Keiran whom I thought were kin to us only through their sire are cousins through their
adda
as well.”

“How is that possible? He was a noble from Qindala in western Khitaira, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but it turns out that
his
grandfather was the half-brother of our grandsire, the Ardan Joren through
their
father the Ardis Levare’s first marriage.”

Riodan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead vexedly. “This is giving me a headache,” he muttered. After a while, he took a deep breath and looked at Dylen again.

“So you suspect Malkon of engineering Gavan’s accident?”

“Gavan was reportedly gored by a swylboar after he was thrown from his steed. He

and Malkon had ridden ahead in pursuit of the beast. They were virtually alone when the accident occurred. Easy enough for Malkon to push Gavan off his steed into the swylboar’s path. And if the boar didn’t kill him, he could have finished off Gavan with his hunting pike, which is very similar in size and shape to a swylboar tusk.” Dylen paused and frowned thoughtfully. “If you think about it, why couldn’t Arfen’s death have been helped along as well?”

Riodan stared. “He had a seizure,” he mused aloud. “He died before the royal physician arrived. You think Malkon poisoned him?”

Dylen shrugged. “Perhaps, but that would have been an extremely big risk to take.

The physician might have recognized the symptoms. The Asmarans are probably the most knowledgeable about poisons in the two continents. Besides, Arfen was known to have seizures on occasion though nothing fatal. Nay, I think it was simpler. The story goes that he was drinking with Sivar and Malkon in his apartment the night the attack happened.”

“That isn’t common knowledge,” Riodan said, shaking his head. “Where you get your information…”

“The old fashioned way,” Dylen replied. “I engage people in conversation. Sooner or later, they talk more freely than is prudent. As I was saying, the three were having a round of drinks when Arfen had his seizure. Sivar and Malkon carried him to his bed and then Sivar went out to the hall to instruct the servants to fetch the physician and also to inform Gavan of the incident. Since the attack didn’t appear serious, he didn’t go back at once but waited for the physician to arrive. So it was a shock when they entered the bedroom and found Arfen dead and Malkon attempting to revive him. Or so he claimed.

What could have prevented him from smothering Arfen while he was alone with him?”

“And no one suspected anything?”

“Arfen was already having some difficulty breathing during the seizure. If he was suffocated, his appearance would have been in keeping with someone who’d been fighting for breath.”

“Didn’t they wonder why Malkon failed to call for help?” Riodan wondered.

“He said he knew the physician was on his way so he decided to exert his energy in trying to revive Arfen.”

“Hmm, it sounds logical enough
if
one isn’t suspicious in the first place.”

“He probably counted on that,” Dylen agreed. “It was likely a spur of the moment decision. The opportunity presented itself, and he snatched it.”

“It must have encouraged him,” Riodan guessed. “Hence Gavan’s
accident
and the attempt on Laral’s life.”

“But he has to be very careful now lest suspicion does fall on him,” Dylen said.

“Talvas dislikes him and, I dare say, so does Laral. Have you noticed how cold he is toward Malkon? They seem barely on speaking terms.”

Riodan nodded. “Some of our consular staff were present at the time of Sivar’s binding to Malkon. They say Laral opposed the marriage so much that he absented himself from the ceremony and only briefly showed up at the nuptial dinner afterward.”

“So there’s already a precedent for their distance,” Dylen remarked. “Well then, under the circumstances, Malkon will likely bide his time until he feels it’s safe to strike again.”

Chapter Eighteen

Overtures

The initial spate of educated conjectures and enlightening discoveries was followed by the business of following up on everything from the Trade Minister’s promises to the various intrigues of the Asmaran court that might have some effect on the country’s relations with Ylandre. It was tedious going for the most part for neither Dylen nor Riodan wished to offend their hosts by being too open in their investigations of Malkon Ferrenda.

Dylen and Riodan did not believe the Halvans completely trusted Malkon either, but the Deir was wed to one of their own and thus had to be treated with due respect. And so all inquiries about him had to be conducted as discreetly as possible, and that meant a lack of directness and therefore speed.

Fortunately, there was the exploration of a land new to both of them to alleviate some of their frustration at the slow pace if their investigation. And, if their occasional absences from the capital served to alleviate any suspicions regarding their inquisitiveness, so much the better. Not to mention it allowed them the freedom to lower their guard just that tiniest bit and thus relax enough to enjoy whatever discoveries came their way.

Such was the case during their brief sojourn in the mountaintop lakeside town of Varthe. The lake was unique in that it was the crater of an ancient extinct volcano.

Looking at the tranquil deep blue basin, one found it hard to imagine that once upon a very long time ago, it had been a seething cauldron pockmarked with pools of steaming water, boiling mud and molten rock. Now the cold depths of the lake teemed with a dizzying variety of aquatic life and the slopes of the former volcano were thick with trees and other vegetation.

Varthe was a bucolic town—a perfect getaway from the frenetic rhythm of life in the cities of Asmara. It was also close enough to Shenze that one did not have to plan weeks in advance for a trip to the town. And, if one was gifted with the skill of translocating, the journey thence took no more than a few minutes.

Riodan grinned at the sight of Dylen standing knee-deep in the murkier waters along the lakefront as he examined a fat silvery fish. Fishing was a major livelihood in Varthe, and if one came down to the lake right after daybreak, one could buy directly from the fisherfolk. Interestingly, not all the fish for sale were caught. The hardier, more prolific species were cultivated in fish pens that dotted the deeper portions of the lakeshore.

His smile widened when his companion proceeded to haggle with the fishmonger then charmed the latter into cleaning his purchases as well. Before long, he came back with a basketful of assorted fish all ready for the pot or spit as the case may be.

“Are you planning to invite all the guests at the inn to lunch?” Riodan mildly inquired.

Dylen shook his head. “Nay, only two will be cooked for our meal. I shall ask the kitchen staff to cure or smoke the rest and send them to
Adda
and Tarqin.”

“They’ll be greatly pleased. But will these keep?”

“The kitchen staff said they would.”

They walked up the stone path to the inn where they were billeted. It was a small and charming establishment that overlooked the lake on one side and offered a breathtaking view on the other of the valley and mountains behind.

*

After leaving the fish in the capable hands of the head cook, Dylen went for a quick wash in the common bathing room on the ground floor of the premises. It was the one feature of the inn he particularly disliked, having become accustomed to the more advanced plumbing systems of the big cities where, if one was willing to spend for it, one could install modern facilities in one’s home complete with hot and cold running water and indoor commodes.

Dylen first came across the luxury when he started working at the Seralye. Having experienced the comforts and convenience of these modern baths, he had insisted on having one at home as soon as he and his father had earned enough to afford it.

He was quite spoiled for rougher living, Dylen ruefully conceded. Oh, he could get by with the most rudimentary of accommodations, but he had to admit, it would take much effort on his part to bear with them and that would considerably lessen his enjoyment of such a place.