Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (51 page)

'Your Grace?' Horsemaster Hamber laid a kindly hand on her arm. 'You're too cold.'

'Not at all.' Litasse favoured him with a smile as dazzling as the frost on the roof tiles. 'Some Eldritch Kin stepped on my shadow, nothing more.'

They rode through the arch into the next of Marlier Castle's courtyards.

Litasse would have sworn that tales of the Eldritch Kin were old wives' yarns spun to school foolish children. But now she had seen wizardly magic and he had hinted at more eerie sorceries. She shuddered again.

'Your Grace.' As the horsemaster pulled up his mount, Litasse's mare halted with its stablemate. 'Perhaps we should reconsider. The ground will be brutally hard on the beasts.'

Litasse got a grip on herself. 'Not where the sun has lingered, on the south side beyond the orchards.'

She had to be outside, to see them arrive. He had sworn they would be here before noon.

'Very well, Your Grace.' Fatherly and tolerant, Hamber chirruped and both horses obediently walked on.

He had sworn she would be safe. Going over and over his words in her mind, Litasse had finally decided to trust him. She recalled he had said he would watch over her. She had still felt an utter fool, writing in letters as tall as her hand on a single sheet of paper.

Help me.

So close to the fire that she could throw the notes into the flames before any interloper saw them. Her pen had still shaken so dreadfully that she had blotted each individual letter.

Whatever his secret, he had come and she had told him all she knew. He had told her his name was Sorgrad and that the other blond killer was his brother, Sorgren by name. Gren for short, he explained, amused, since lowlanders so inexplicably persisted in confusing the two names.

Before he vanished he had promised to return. This morning as she washed her face, his shimmering message had come and gone in the bottom of her washstand basin. He would come for her today.

Litasse had decided to trust him. She still found him deeply unnerving.

'Horsemaster.' The guard at the gate in the next low wall bowed low.

Before Hamber replied, Litasse heard carriage wheels rumble. Across the gravelled yard, Ridianne rode her horse alongside the coach's driver. A taller man sat up beside him.

Litasse recognised the Carlusian she'd seen at Adel Castle, his broad shoulders stiff beneath borrowed Marlier livery. Then she saw the outriders close behind and felt weak with relief. Sorgrad and his brother wore purloined uniforms with their striking blond hair concealed under close-fitting helms. Cheek guards further obscured Sorgrad's face but Litasse saw him wink at her.

That was all very well but what was Ridianne doing with them? Who was inside the coach?

Litasse turned swiftly to Horsemaster Hamber. 'Forgive me, I'm being selfish. You know what's best for your horses. We should take them back to the stables.'

'If you're sure, Your Grace.' He didn't hide his relief.

The guard was already opening the gate to admit the carriage, so Litasse allowed her mare to fret until the rattling equipage passed through.

'Good day, Your Grace,' Ridianne greeted her breezily.

Litasse tensed. Could the mercenary woman still raise some alarm? Would Marlier's guards race out of all the doorways like ants defending their nest?

'Your Grace?' Master Hamber was waiting.

Litasse shook off her fears. 'Alas, Madam Captain, I fear it is rather too chill for a pleasure ride.'

She submitted to Hamber's firm hand on her horse's bridle and they followed the carriage back to the stable yard, through the archway that housed the castle's shrine to Trimon.

Where were they going now? Fear froze the breath in Litasse's throat as the gates swung closed behind them. They were trapped if Ridianne turned against them. The mercenary woman still had her sword.

Though of course, there would have been questions if she hadn't. Litasse rode over to the mounting block and prepared her skirts to descend.

'Your Grace.' Already on foot, Sorgrad hurried to hold her horse's head. Once she had dismounted, he offered his hand as she descended the steps. 'Good girl,' he approved in low tones. 'You're no longer on your own.'

Litasse looked sideways through her lashes. 'I am not your girl.'

'Not yet.' His smile came and went as fast as that message in her basin.

Ridianne summoned a stable-boy with a piercing whistle. 'Take this to His Grace, as quick as you can.'

Was some warning message concealed in those few scrawled words? Litasse settled her skirts. She would stay close to Sorgrad. If all this went horribly awry, she could only trust in his promise to protect her.

The Carlusian opened the carriage door. Litasse wondered if anyone else had noticed that he was only using one arm. Why was that?

Then Ridianne reached inside and removed a pair of crutches. That prompted muted speculation around the coach yard.

Litasse tidied her hair as Ridianne helped an ill-grown man out of the carriage. This must be the scholar from Vanam. As she studied his face, Litasse thought she could see some trace of Duke Secaris's blood.

Ridianne looked around at the gawping servants, a lazy smile curling her lip. 'Haven't you lackwits got better things to do?' That warning sent them all hurrying away.

'Your Grace.' Master Hamber came to take charge of Litasse's mare.

Litasse smiled sweetly. 'Forgive me for wasting your time.'

'Let's hope for a thaw tomorrow, Your Grace.' He was already leading both horses back to their stable.

'Your Grace?' Ridianne approached. 'Please join us. We're to pay a visit to Duke Ferdain.'

'As quickly as we can.' Sorgrad was looking warily around the stable yard.

'Naturally.' A wry smile momentarily lightened the Vanam scholar's drawn features.

Litasse found the man's ungainly, wasted limbs and his hesitant, Vanam-accented speech disconcerting. It was so demonstrably at odds with the quick intelligence in his eyes.

'This way.' She opened a door before being stricken with doubt. Was this the most direct route to Ferdain's withdrawing room? She still didn't know all the intricacies of this castle. Should she let Ridianne lead?

But the scholar was already hurrying clumsily along the corridor on his crutches, flanked by Ridianne and Tathrin.

'Your Grace?' Sorgrad bowed low with a sweep of his hand to indicate she should go ahead of himself and Gren and the scar-faced man who had driven the coach.

Litasse walked after Ridianne, Tathrin and Aremil, her poise impeccable, her heart racing. Wouldn't someone wonder why a coachman and outriders had followed Ridianne into the castle? Wouldn't someone realise that none of these men had been in the hand-picked troop that had departed a bare handful of days before?

'Do you know where Karn is?' Sorgrad quietly asked.

Litasse shook her head. 'I've not seen or heard from him since he left to kill your friend.'

She looked apprehensively at the Carlusian's back. Of course, that explained his arm. Would there be a reckoning for his wound?

They made their way through the labyrinthine twists and stairs, ignoring the few passing servants and encountering no inconveniently courteous nobles. Litasse couldn't imagine how she might introduce the Vanam rebels' crippled leader.

Though surely no one would dare stop them? Not Marlier's famed captain of mercenaries striding ahead of Triolle's duchess, the rightful heir to Sharlac. But what was Ridianne doing here? Sorgrad had said she would be taken in chains to Carluse. And where was Iruvain?

After what felt like half a season, Litasse's curiosity growing with every step, they turned into the hallway to Ferdain's private apartments.

Ridianne knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

Litasse felt Sorgrad's urgent hand at her elbow. 'Quickly.'

Gren and the other man pressed so close that someone trod on the hem of her cloak.

'Ridianne?' Ferdain sat by his fireside, her note in his hand. The duke's smile widened and he rose to bow with stately condescension. 'Lord Aremil of Draximal?'

'Master Aremil, if you please,' the cripple replied, composed, 'of Vanam.'

Ferdain's smile faltered as he resumed his seat. Then he saw Litasse and simply looked confused. 'My dear, that's to say, Ridianne, where is His Grace of Triolle?'

'Quite safe,' replied Ridianne. 'Just listen, Ferdain.'

'We're here to talk terms.' Master Aremil lowered himself awkwardly onto a settle. 'Lescar doesn't deserve another year of war.'

The duke clasped his hands on his velvet-covered paunch. 'I am very pleased that you have seen sense. The first thing you will do is write to your envoys and repudiate this Conclave nonsense.'

'You misunderstand me,' apologised Aremil. 'We're here to agree the terms of your abdication.'

'To make fair settlement for your children and your duchess,' added Tathrin, 'provided they quit all claims to dominion over Marlier.'

Ferdain gaped at Ridianne. 'What is this?'

'This war's over, Ferdain.' She walked to the window and contemplated the garden. 'Make the best deal you can.'

'You betrayed me?' His voice broke on his anguish. 'You have betrayed Marlier?'

Ridianne didn't turn. 'I hope not.'

Ferdain stared at her uncommunicative back before forcing a smile for Litasse.

'Never fear, my dear. Your husband--'

'Is on his way to Carluse, securely shackled.' Once again, Aremil apologised.

Litasse couldn't help herself. She shot Sorgrad a sparkling smile of delight.

Ferdain gripped the arms of his chair. 'Guards!'

No one moved.

The duke sprang up to snatch at the bell pull by the fire. He yanked it so hard that the tapestry strip tore.

'That won't work,' Sorgrad said calmly. 'You can shout as loud as you like. No one will hear you, Your Grace.'

'What?' Now Ferdain gaped at him.

'I'm a wizard, Your Grace.' Sorgrad waved an airy hand. 'No sound, nor anything else, will leave this room without my say-so.'

Gren obligingly stepped away from the door as Ferdain hurried over to haul on the handle. The door stayed unshakeably shut.

The duke looked wide-eyed at Sorgrad. 'Wizardry is forbidden in Lescar.'

'The Archmage forbids the use of magic in Lescar's
wars
.' Sorgrad removed his helmet. 'Assuming we come to terms, the last battle was fought some time ago.'

'You'll escape his wrath by quibbling like a lawyer? Imprisoning me with your sorcery until I abdicate? Very well!' Dramatic, Ferdain flung up his hands, stalking back to his chair. 'I will sign whatever you want. As soon as I have my liberty, I will tell everyone from the Archmage down how my signature was forced from me. What will you gain from that?'

Gren took off his own helmet. 'You can't say anything if we kill you once the ink's dry.'

Ridianne turned swiftly from the window. 'Try it and see how far you get.'

'Enough!' Tathrin barked. 'We're here to put an end to bloodshed.'

'All that magic will do today is ensure we're not interrupted.' Aremil reached inside the deep pocket of his cloak. 'Your Grace, I think you'll see abdication is preferable when the alternative is disgrace. Duke Iruvain soon agreed.' He offered Ferdain a parchment.

'What is this?' The duke took the document and reluctantly read. 'He signed this of his own volition without a sword at his throat?'

'He did,' Ridianne assured him.

Ferdain thrust the parchment at Litasse, his hand shaking. 'Your Grace?'

She gave it a cursory glance. 'That is my husband's writing.' She had no interest in the details.

'But why?' Ferdain beseeched Ridianne.

'Corsairs.' She was staring out of the window again. 'Iruvain of Triolle has offered up Marlier to the black ships in hopes of blaming their raids on the rebels, in hopes of forcing us to fight.'

'Corsairs?' Ferdain subsided into his chair.

'Your Grace?' Ridianne's sharp gaze pierced Litasse.

'It's true.' She looked down at the sumptuous carpet.

'I can fight them off,' Ridianne assured Ferdain, 'as long as I'm free to do so.' She shrugged. 'Bringing them here was the price of my freedom.'

'That's not Iruvain's only crime against your dukedom,' Aremil observed. 'His man Karn has been recruiting these brigands to stir up trouble in order to bring the Caladhrians to battle.'

'Filling his pockets with Relshazri slavers' gold,' growled Ridianne.

'Am I to be punished for his villainy?' Ferdain reddened with outrage. 'Why should I give up my domains when I have done nothing wrong?'

'What have you done right?' Aremil challenged him. 'What have you done to salve your people's hurts when mercenaries have abused them, when vassal lords have beggared them to keep themselves in luxuries and to buy your favours with their gold? What have you ever done to bring peace, to offer prosperity to all Lescari?'