Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (48 page)

'Let such representatives meet at Solstice and Equinox in each dukedom by turn. This conclave can decide Lescar's laws and hold assizes, assess levies and debate how such coin should be spent in the interests of all. The Conclave can speak with one voice for all Lescari, to Caladhria and Tormalin, to Relshaz and Ensaimin's cities. If any would challenge Lescari fitness to govern, the Conclave can arm our soldiers.'

He reached for his crutches and hauled himself to his feet. Tathrin rose beside him.

'We recommend you hold your first conclave here at this Spring Festival. Meantime, we are laying out the same truths and choices to the people of Sharlac and Draximal, Triolle, Parnilesse and Marlier. You should let them know what you decide. Good day to you all.'

With that, Aremil began making his way to the door. He had covered nearly half the distance before the stunned silence in the hall erupted into consternation.

Sorgrad and Gren were already there to deter anyone from waylaying him. Failla and Branca opened the door. Aremil hurried through it as fast as he could.

Tathrin took the lead down the steps. 'This way.' He headed to the range of buildings that had once housed Duchess Tadira's retinue.

Sorgrad laid a hand on Aremil's shoulder. 'Just this once.'

Before he could answer, the Mountain Man lifted him off feet and crutches and carried him swiftly down the stone stair.

Aremil would have objected if he hadn't seen a gaggle of Carlusians emerging from the other end of the hall, searching for him in the castle's inner courtyard.

'Have they seen us?' Branca wondered.

'Yes, but they can't decide what to do.' Gren chuckled.

Aremil simply allowed Sorgrad to carry him to the doorway where Tathrin and Failla waited.

'In here.' Branca crossed the hallway to open a modest sitting room, once the refuge of the duchess's waiting-women. 'When the courtyards are cleared, you can go back to the inner keep.'

Failla embraced Tathrin, mindful of his injured shoulder. 'Kerith has already gone to the stable yard. Vrist has already told us twice that Horsemaster Corrad has our coaches ready and he won't want the horses standing in this chill.'

'Off you go.' He dismissed her with a last snatched kiss.

Branca hugged Aremil. 'We must make the best of the daylight.'

'Of course.' His lips lingered on her cheek before he forced himself to withdraw.

Failla halted on the threshold. 'Nail a cut-piece to the shrine door for us.'

As Branca shut the door behind them, Aremil fell back onto an upholstered settle. 'So all we can do now is wait.'

'Do you really think so?' Tathrin sat down carefully on an upright chair. 'Wouldn't you like a chance to play the hero for once?'

Aremil looked apprehensively at him. More worryingly, Sorgrad and Gren were smiling with ill-concealed anticipation.

Chapter Thirty-One

Litasse

Marlier Castle,

Lescar,

15th of For-Spring

Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird's wings beating against her ribcage. Wiping sweating hands on her blue velvet skirt, she was grateful for the knife beneath her petticoats.

'Your Grace!' Today's sneaking maidservant caught up. When she realised where Litasse stood, she clapped a horrified hand to her mouth.

Litasse contemplated the uncommunicative oak. 'Run away if you don't want to be whipped.'

As she knocked, the maid fled. Muffled voices paused then resumed their conversation. Knocking again, Litasse didn't wait for a response. She went in.

'Your Grace?' Duke Ferdain sat in a high-backed chair by the fire. It was a long moment before he hastily rose to bow.

Iruvain stood by the withdrawing room's window overlooking the duke's private garden. 'What do you want?' Seeing Ferdain's frown, he forced a smile. 'My lady wife.'

'My lord husband.' Litasse acknowledged him coolly before curtseying to Ferdain. 'Your Grace.'

'The honour is mine.' Marlier's duke sat back down in his chair. Feather-filled cushions notwithstanding, he looked horribly uncomfortable.

As well he might. Litasse didn't doubt that the castle's spies had told Ridianne, who then told Ferdain, that Iruvain of Triolle hadn't visited his duchess's bedchamber since his return. How he spent his nights drinking himself into oblivion.

The grizzled captain of mercenaries was sitting in a corner, her black breeches and high boots splashed with mud from the road.

Litasse didn't acknowledge her. Though she wondered if Ridianne had told Ferdain that Iruvain was also availing himself of any maidservant willing to spread her thighs. This past handful of days, Litasse had learned that much from servants' scandalised whispers.

Ferdain cleared his throat. 'How may we serve Your Grace?'

'I come to be of service to you.' She spared her husband a belated nod. 'To all Lescar's surviving dukes.'

'You?' Iruvain couldn't restrain his scorn. 'How?'

Litasse addressed herself to Ferdain. 'You recall Master Hamare, Triolle's chief intelligencer since the days of His late Grace Duke Gerone?'

'I do,' Ferdain acknowledged in strangled tones.

What did he think she was going to do? Burden him with every detail of her adultery with her cuckolded husband in the room?

The notion of humiliating Iruvain, of admitting her transgressions while laying bare all his guilt in the joint failure of their marriage was certainly tempting. But no, or at least, not yet.

Litasse reached into her pocket for a folded scrap of parchment. 'Master Hamare gathered news and rumour from far and wide. His skills were second to none when it came to separating the wheat from the chaff. I have continued to glean what I can from his informants since his untimely death.'

She allowed herself a reproachful glance at Iruvain. Let Ferdain make what he chose of that, and Ridianne too.

'My manservant Karn, one of Master Hamare's most trusted enquiry agents, continues to serve me faithfully. He has sent a most startling letter.'

'He serves Triolle,' snapped Iruvain, 'at my command.'

Iruvain stepping forward to take credit for whatever she had discovered was hardly a surprise. Rather than argue, Litasse used the parchment to gesture towards Ridianne, so fresh from the road.

'I imagine Captain Ridianne has told you of these outrageous proposals the misbegotten rebels have made in Carluse?'

'Indeed.' Ferdain folded his arms. 'We still have friends thereabouts.'

Litasse recalled Hamare telling her how a man's mood could be read in his stance. This news from Carluse had Ferdain on the defensive.

She raised her finely plucked brows. 'Has she told you their envoys are even now travelling to Sharlac and Draximal, to Parnilesse and to Triolle?'

Ferdain looked sharply at Ridianne.

The Vixen shrugged. 'I haven't had word but it's only to be expected.'

'Do you know they are sending an envoy to Hengere?' Litasse challenged the grey-haired woman before returning her gaze to Ferdain. 'Your Grace, you have done your people a great service by so wisely refusing to be drawn into this warfare, but I fear the ignorant mob may not have fully understood your purpose. The commonalty have been sorely oppressed by those fleeing from Carluse and Triolle in these hungriest of seasons. They've been harried by these brigands broken loose from those faithless mercenary companies.'

'Marlier's mercenaries are loyal,' Ridianne interjected harshly.

Iruvain couldn't help himself. 'So I saw before the very gates of Triolle Castle.'

Litasse took a step forward to reclaim Ferdain's attention. 'These rebels have spread their scurrilous writings so widely among your people that if they rally sufficient fools and malcontents to Hengere, if they offer venal guildsmen and priests this delusion of a voice in Lescar's rule--' She broke off with a shake of her head.

Iruvain rounded on Ridianne. 'This is where your cowardice has left us.'

'Has your eloquence secured a Caladhrian army?' she retorted.

Litasse spoke up before Iruvain could retaliate. 'I fear no Caladhrian baron will vote for a venture across the border now. Karn tells me some rebel envoy to Abray already flatters the lords and merchants there by saying Lescar's parliament will be patterned on their own.'

Ferdain snapped his fingers at Ridianne. 'Is this truly what they are planning?'

'I cannot say for certain.' She shot Litasse a penetrating glance before shaking her head. 'It makes no odds. We still hold Marlier.'

'For how long?' sneered Iruvain.

'Enough!' Ferdain's shout startled them all. He grasped the arms of his chair, his amiable face anxious. 'We must decide what to do.'

'Your Grace?' Litasse spoke up while Iruvain and Ridianne glowered at each other. 'I have taken the liberty--'

'Of doing what?' Iruvain took a pace towards her, clenching his fists.

'If you please, Your Grace.' Now Ridianne was on her feet. 'Mind your manners to your lady wife.'

Litasse shrank away from her husband to sit on a footstool conveniently close to Ferdain's chair.

'Master Hamare got wind of these rebels in Vanam, though alas not soon enough to save Sharlac and my father and brother.' She ducked her head as her voice faltered. 'He learned all that he could about them and since then Karn has learned more.'

'At my instruction,' Iruvain interrupted.

Ridianne squared her shoulders. 'His Grace learns everything he needs to know from my enquiries.'

Litasse laid a hesitant hand on the arm of Ferdain's chair. 'Karn discovered who commands the rebellion's army. A man called Tathrin Sayron.'

'Just so,' Ridianne agreed. 'He--'

'Karn has killed him,' Litasse said quietly.

'
What?'

Iruvain and Ridianne spoke as one, astounded.

Litasse looked up at Ferdain. 'Karn discovered that bandits had burned this man's family's home, so he went there to lie in wait.' She shook her head in apparent disbelief. 'These people don't believe they have any more battles to fight. This Sayron, their captain, went in search of his family. Karn felled him with an arrow,' she said simply.

'Let me see that.'

Iruvain strode forward to snatch the parchment from her trembling hand. Ridianne would have moved to his shoulder to read it but he warned her off with a glare.

'What does this mean for us?' Ferdain demanded of his captain of mercenaries.

Ridianne was watching Iruvain with narrowed eyes as she ran a hand through her ragged hair. 'They still have mercenaries and militiamen under arms. We have more, so if it comes to a battle we'll have the upper hand. If their captain is dead it depends how able his lieutenants might be. There are two Mountain Men, experienced--'

'If?' Iruvain was appalled. 'You're still too craven to fight?'

'Call me craven, Your Grace?' Ridianne hissed his title like an insult. 'I didn't flee the battlefield at Pannal nor Castle Triolle before that.'

Iruvain's face reddened with anger and humiliation. 'If you were a man I would run you through for such insolence.'

'If you were a man you might stand some chance of success,' Ridianne riposted.

'Enough!' Ferdain bellowed.

But Litasse heard the infinitesimal break in his voice; of uncertainty and fear.

'Your Grace.' She looked up, beseeching. 'Perhaps no one need fight?'

'You be quiet,' Iruvain spat.

'Your Grace!' Ferdain sat up straight to rebuke the younger man. 'Extend your lady wife some courtesy in my presence!'

Iruvain stood motionless before retreating with a stiff-necked bow. 'Forgive me, Your Grace.'

Litasse noted he didn't apologise to her. That look in Iruvain's eye also boded ill for the next time they were alone. Looking penitently down, she focused on the stiff line of the dagger beneath her skirts.

'Thank you.' Ferdain composed himself. 'My dear, you wished to speak?'

She looked up to see hope and apprehension battling in his dark eyes. 'Your Grace, Master Hamare discovered two prime movers in this rebellion from its very first days in Vanam. One was this Tathrin Sayron whom Karn has now killed. The other was a scholar known as Master Aremil--'

Ridianne cut in quickly. 'In truth the firstborn son of Duke Secaris.'

'A cripple,' scoffed Iruvain, 'laid low by his weakness for days at a time.'

Litasse held Ferdain's gaze. 'This Master Aremil is coming to Hengere. These rebels know they cannot send anyone less when Marlier has remained so stalwart. He may be a cripple, Your Grace, but by all accounts he is eloquent and erudite. If anyone can persuade your people to doubt you - forgive me - Karn says he is the man to do it.'

'Then we kill him,' Iruvain crushed the parchment in his hand, 'if he's such a wise fool to venture into Marlier territory.'

'Or we capture him,' Ridianne said thoughtfully. 'All the better to force whoever claims authority in Carluse to come to terms with us.'