Kingslayer (29 page)

The hallways nearest the formal dining room were full of nobility as usual. He paid no particular attention to this, just weaved his way in and around people, exchanging greetings as he moved until he spied a very familiar head of black hair. Stepping up the pace, he dodged an elderly couple and finally had her in his sights. For once, she had no escort except the matron Hali which followed in her wake. Normally, Amalah had her parents with her.

A proper gentleman, when seeing a young woman walking unescorted, should offer his arm, right?
It sounded like a good justification to him. Biting back a devious smile, he lengthened his stride and took a half-step in front of her. “Raja Amalah.”

She stopped dead, surprised by his sudden appearance, but a smile lit up her face almost instantly. “General! You are back from your trip already?”

“I arrived yesterday,” he admitted. “But I see that you are without an escort. Will you do me the honor?”

A hint of pink colored her cheeks as she accepted his arm. Hali glared at him from behind, but he ignored her. Satisfied, he led her toward the dining hall.

Amalah pulled him closer and leaned up a little to whisper, “I must warn you, there are people here that are not happy with your position. They are trying to undermine you.”

So, even she had heard about it? He smiled at her in reassurance. “My staff alerted me. I appreciate your warning, though.” Darius made a face, as if he had a mouth full of vinegar. “Court politics seem to come hand in hand with my position.”

She made a similar face. “I, too, do not enjoy them.”

“What is there to enjoy?” he asked in a rhetorical fashion. “Back-stabbing—sometimes literally—and bribes and rumors and gossip, none of which brings about any good. My steward thinks it fascinating. I find it frustrating.”

They entered the main doors of the room and conversation naturally lagged as they had to fight their way through the throng. Darius observed in bemusement that the layout of the room had changed. Before, the main table where the royal family sat had been at the front of the room with several very long tables arrayed perpendicular to each other taking up the rest of the area. Now, the tables were arranged to where they hugged the walls, leaving a clear space in the center. Did these random changes often happen?

Amalah looked all around her before admitting to him in an aside, “I’ve never seen this arrangement before.”

Hmm. Alright, so this was new. No one else seemed to know how to react to this new arrangement either as they were milling about for a long time before finally finding a seat. Darius escorted Amalah to an empty position nearby, his mind racing. He couldn’t help but feel that this re-arrangement of the furniture had some ulterior purpose. The way that the queen sat on her raised dais and watched everyone with a half-smile on her face rather confirmed the theory.
That
expression spoke of trouble.

Feeling uneasy, he took a seat beside Amalah and waited for everyone else to settle. It took longer than usual, but eventually everyone found a place and sat. The servers came out with their platters of meats, breads, cheeses, fruits, and the mulled ciders this country was famous for. When they were served the queen waved a hand to give them permission to eat.

Darius made sure that Amalah’s plate was full before seeing to himself. He had just raised a handful of bread to his mouth when his dinner partner murmured, “My non-book is quite extraordinary.”

Oh-ho, so she
did
like it. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye and found her to be smiling ruefully. “It had to belong to you. It told me so.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, looking mock-surprised. “Mirrors are capable of conversing?”

“Anything on a merchant’s table is capable of conversing,” he assured her dryly. “And every merchant in the world is willing to convey their words, if you aren’t capable of hearing them.”

She bit her lip in an effort not to laugh, but one escaped her anyway. “Is that what happened?”

“Well, no. It was just the first thing I saw that I thought you’d like that wasn’t a book.” The second, actually, but he’d find a way of giving that to her later.

“I’ve never seen one quite like it. The maker’s mark on the box looked very unfamiliar to me as well. Was it made in Brindisi?”

“Arape, actually. I bought it from—”

“Darius!” Tresea called from the front table.

He stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at her. Even from this distance, he could see the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Yes, My Queen?”

“It occurs to me that even though you have fought on my land many times, I have never seen you in combat.”

“That is true, My Queen,” he agreed.
What by Darr’s name is she up to?
She certainly was leading up to something.

“This is disagreeable to me. I have heard that your swordsmanship is no less brilliant than your strategies. I wish to see if this is true with my own eyes.”

Hmmm, so she
was
aware of the murmurings within her court about him. A martial arts display would likely shut up quite a few of them but not the most hardcore dissenters. Unless she had some follow-up plan in mind? Knowing her, she likely did. Wanting to see how she’d handle this, he decided to play along. “Even if you say so, My Queen, it’s rather difficult to display my skill without having a partner to fight with.”

“You raise a valid point,” she responded with a thoughtful frown. “But we have many officers of my army here, and surely I can find someone suitable.” She looked to her left, slowly panning the room as if searching for someone.

Darius wasn’t fooled in the slightest. She already had someone in mind.

“My Queen,” a tall man with thinning black hair stood and gave her a deep bow. “If I may?”

“You have leave to speak, Raj Kurush.” Uh-oh. Judging by that hint of satisfaction in her face, Kurush had just fallen into a trap. Darius darted a look at the man. Lean, with a hawkish nose and immaculate dress. Looking at him, the term
empty sack
came to mind. Was this man the main contender for having Darius removed? If not, he certainly played some part in it, judging by Tresea’s expression. Although, Kurush himself didn’t seem to be aware of walking into a trap. He seemed…rather too eager, actually.

“My Queen, I confess that I have always wished to cross swords with General Bresalier. If I may be so bold, would you allow me to challenge him?” Kurush practically oozed sincerity.

Oh yes. The man was neck deep in it somehow. “I have no objections, My Queen.”

Tresea clapped her hands in excitement like a giddy girl would. “Excellent. Then do come forward. Do you think that you can fight here, in between the tables, without endangering anyone?”

He’d fought in tighter quarters than this. He couldn’t speak for Kurush’s skill, though.

“We have sufficient space for a non-serious fight, My Queen,” Kurush assured her confidently.

Hopefully the man had the skill necessary to back up that confidence. Darius didn’t see it from here. Kurush moved in a solid, almost stodgy manner that hinted of technique but no speed. His instincts said this man was not a match for him. As he stood, Amalah caught his arm and gave him a worried look. He winked at her in reassurance. She let go, a forced smile on her face, but clearly she was still worried. Well, she’d see soon enough.

Clear of the padded bench, he turned to Bohme and held out his hand. The bodyguard clearly understood the silent request and slung off Darius’s sword from his shoulder, handing it over without a word. Most of the rajs here were not armed, not even the soldiers, but Darius had never walked around completely bare. If he were in a position where he could not openly carry a sword—such as a formal dinner like this one—then he always had his bodyguard hold it for him.

Kurush had clearly anticipated the fight somehow as well, as his bodyguard had also handed a weapon off to him.

The two men maneuvered their way between the tables and into the open center. It took three long paces to reach the middle, giving them a rectangular space of clear flooring to fight. Darius marked off the dimensions in his head. He would not be able to take more than five steps back in any direction without endangering the people around him.

He slipped the sheath into the belt at his waist before giving a short bow to the queen. Kurush did the same although he made a show of giving her a deeper bow of reverence. She nodded back in acknowledgment. “Begin at any time.”

Darius turned to face his opponent when out of the corner of his eye he saw a swift motion. Instinctively, he sank into a wide stance and unsheathed his sword at lightning speed. Had that fool just—?! Yes, he had! He’d actually unsheathed his sword before ever bowing and then struck out at Darius as quickly as he could. Granted, in war his tactics would not be questioned. On a battlefield, you took down your opponent as quickly and ruthlessly as possible. But
here
, for a court demonstration?

Years of fighting had honed Darius’s instincts to where he met the first three strikes before his feet could even properly settle into a stance. The clangs of the swords meeting and then sliding free sounded abnormally loud in the stillness of the room. Apparently even the spectators had been caught off-guard by Kurush’s actions.

For a moment, Darius didn’t press the attack and just let Kurush come to him, giving him ample time to evaluate the man’s skill. His impression from before had been right on—the man had had good technique pounded into him, but no real speed or strength. The fact that he could fight this well came about because of a good sword instructor and not from any particular talent or dedication. If he weren’t an officer, someone who didn’t fight on a regular basis, then he’d likely already be dead.

Bored with the match already, Darius stopped defending and started pressing the attack. Since this was not supposed to be serious, he altered the angle of his strikes so that the flat of the blade hit Kurush instead of the sharper edge. Still, the man jumped in alarm when Darius struck Kurush on his arm, thigh, and other arm in quick succession. He’d softened the blows so that they would only bruise instead of breaking bone but the message was clear—if this had been serious, Kurush would already be down.

At that moment, Kurush realized just how outmatched he really was. The fear could be seen in his eyes. He’d gotten up here to show Darius as being inferior—if he failed, the political fallout would not be pretty. Darius had no sympathy for him. The fool had thought that by grabbing a tiger by the tail, he need not worry about the teeth or claws.

Kurush’s swings became wilder, more desperate, as he strove to match Darius’s speed. His desperation made his technique sloppy and even his footwork suffered as he half-stumbled to the side. Darius took a half-step back as well, giving him enough space to recover, not wanting a wild strike to get any closer to the table behind him.

Then Kurush did the unthinkable.

Instead of using the opening Darius gave him to recover his balance, he
charged
, sword swinging wide in an overhead arc.

Darius watched the flash of steel coming toward him, two thoughts racing through his head.
Amalah is sitting directly behind me. If I dodge, she’ll be hit. Panicked
, he did the only thing he could think to do—he charged as well, sword up to guard against Kurush’s blade coming down, and hit the man high in the chest, free hand grabbing the man’s chin and pushing up with all of his strength.

Kurush’s balance, already upset, deserted him entirely and he half-flew a foot before coming down hard on the tile. He grunted as his back slammed into the ground, his head making a sick sound as it impacted. Darius didn’t care that he’d just rattled the man’s brains. Lowering his sword, he whirled around, taking a half step toward the table, his eyes frantically searching for some damage done to Amalah. She stared back at him with wide eyes, both hands pressed to her heart.

“Raja Amalah, are you well?” he demanded.

She seemed dazed for a moment before shaking her head in short bursts, her eyes never leaving him. “I am not hurt,” she assured him breathlessly.

It had been a near thing. A second later, and she would have been hurt. Fatally so. He put his heart back in his chest and took a deep breath to sooth his rattled nerves. Only then did he turn to his opponent who still lay sprawled on the floor. He had no idea what his expression looked like just then, but it plunged the room into an icy silence when people saw it. Kurush stared up at him like a man facing the god of death, almost shaking.

“You utter
fool
,” Darius snarled in a tone that sounded menacing even to his own ears. “You are a soldier of the Niotan Army. Your
first
duty,
always
, is the protection of every man, woman, child and beast of this country. The fact that you would put your own pride above a young woman’s life is beyond appalling.”

“I quite agree.” Tresea stood from her seat and walked calmly toward them, her eyes like chips of obsidian. “If not for Darius’s skill, Raja Amalah would quite likely be dead because of your carelessness, Kurush.”

Already shaken, this public rebuke made the man go a sickly grey.

“I think that we have had enough demonstrations for this evening. You are dismissed, Kurush.” Queen Tresea’s tone added
And do not try to come back until I have summoned you.
Kurush heard the unspoken words and pushed himself clumsily to his feet. Without even trying to collect his sword, he stumbled out of the room.

Turning, she looked at Amalah, her eyes softening. “I am sorry you were frightened, Raja Amalah. I did not anticipate this course of events.”

Amalah clearly did not like being the center of attention but she managed a smile at her monarch. “Fortunately, My Queen, the General was quick to protect me.”

“This is true.” Tresea gave him a wide smile. Darius did not think that she entirely disapproved of the way things had turned out. It had sent a message to her court far better than she had likely predicted. “We are grateful to you, Darius.”