Lescari Revolution 03: Banners In The Wind (52 page)

Ferdain stared at him, uncomprehending. 'What are you talking about? No!' He folded his hands tight beneath his armpits. 'I will sign no document you put before me.'

Aremil shrugged. 'Then we will hold you securely and in comfort while Marlier sends honest men and women to the Conclave along with the rest of Lescar's provinces.'

'You will hold me here?' scoffed Ferdain. 'Or do you think you can escape my guards, even with her treachery?' He shot Ridianne a wounded look. 'You'll be cut down before you reach the outer courtyards!'

'Your Grace?' Sorgrad smiled. 'I can take you leagues from here without anyone being the wiser.'

Litasse caught her breath as he kindled azure magelight around one upraised hand.

'You'll let them do this?' Ferdain appealed desperately to Ridianne.

'I'll be busy fighting off corsairs.' She was still looking out at the garden.

'You'll hold me lifelong?' Ferdain's voice trembled with fear and anger. 'With no one the wiser?'

'Once the Conclave is established you'll be released,' Tathrin said coldly. 'By which time you will be disgraced. Everyone will believe that you share in Duke Iruvain's guilt for these brigands plundering Carluse, Caladhria and Marlier, for summoning these corsairs.'

Litasse was startled by the Carlusian's harsh words. He seemed such a mild-tempered man. Then she recalled how effectively he had waged this merciless war.

Ferdain shook his head stubbornly. 'No one will believe it of me.'

How long were these men going to talk themselves round and round in circles? Litasse couldn't stand it any longer. 'They will when I bear witness.'

'You would perjure yourself?' Ferdain was genuinely wounded. 'When I have given you my protection and my hospitality?'

Litasse hardened her heart. 'I would do that and more, Your Grace. Iruvain has greater crimes than this to answer for and I will swear you share his guilt.'

'Like what?' Ferdain demanded, as petulant as a schoolboy.

'His complicity in Duke Garnot's murder during the siege of Tyrle.' Litasse knotted her cold hands together behind her back to stop anyone seeing them shaking. 'His man Karn killed Garnot and Iruvain has sheltered him ever since, in full knowledge of that crime.'

Ferdain was appalled. 'I cannot believe it.'

'If you don't believe Her Grace, I'll wager the Archmage can find the truth,' Sorgrad mused. 'A handful of Duke Garnot's ashes and Planir's necromancer can reveal his last moments.'

'Is that possible?' Ferdain looked unnerved.

'It is, and the Archmage has already sanctioned necromancy,' Tathrin said thoughtfully, 'to uncover the truth of Duke Orlin and Duchess Sherista's murders.'

Gren glowered. 'We made sure of justice there.'

'Emperor Tadriol will bear witness to that,' Aremil assured Ferdain. 'You may write to His Imperial Majesty or send an envoy.'

The duke could only gawk, astounded.

'That's not the worst of it, Your Grace.' Sorgrad snapped his fingers and the magelight disappeared. 'There was a renegade wizard in Adel Castle ready to use his magic to aid Triolle and Parnilesse during the Battle of Pannal. He tortured our envoys, even killed one.'

Ridianne spun around. 'Iruvain suborned sorcery?'

'I can bear witness to that,' Tathrin said icily, 'as can the women who were abused.'

'Is this true?' Ferdain whispered, horrified, to no one in particular.

'I killed the bastard,' Gren assured him grimly.

Litasse couldn't speak or move. She had been such a fool. The Mountain mage had only brought her here to betray her.

Sorgrad shrugged. 'Duke Iruvain and Lord Geferin were both in Adel Castle. Who's to say whose idea it was? Though we do know this renegade mage had ties to these corsairs.'

'Is that so?' Ridianne's eyes promised murder if she ever came within striking range of Iruvain.

Still frozen with fear, Litasse saw Aremil and Tathrin exchange an opaque glance.

Aremil searched the pocket of his cloak for some further document. 'Duchess Litasse did all she could to save our envoys.'

Tathrin nodded. 'Once she discovered what appalling deeds were being done in Triolle's name.'

'My dear, is this true?' Ferdain asked in strangled tones.

Litasse could only nod, tears filling her eyes.

'Once this is known?' Aremil pushed a second leaf of parchment into Ferdain's unresisting hands. 'Do you think anyone will trust you again, whether or not they believe you agreed with Iruvain's plans?'

Litasse found she could breathe more easily. Was she forgiven for her vile folly?

'Make the best of it, Ferdain,' advised Ridianne. 'Take your gold and you can be safe in some comfortable exile before anyone even knows that you're gone.'

'Or you can wait to be driven out with brickbats and horsewhips,' Gren offered with an unexpectedly genial grin.

'Hidarin will be furious,' Ferdain said slowly. Abruptly, he looked straight at Litasse. 'Why?'

Amid all the half-truths in the room, the pain in his eyes compelled her honest answer.

'What are we fighting for? To impose our will on vassals and peasants who resent us? To pursue old quarrels bequeathed by sires and grandsires? To see innocent blood shed for enmities we never sought or deserved?'

The loss of her brothers twisted in her heart like a knife.

'To live surrounded by the debased loyalties of swords for hire? To marry for imagined advantage and live miserable for want of true affection? To condemn our children to the same wretchedness, shuffled around like birds on a white raven board?'

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with trembling hands.

'Why, Ferdain? Because I want to be free of it all.'

The duke did not answer. Aremil silently handed him a third parchment. Ferdain slowly read it through and then, still without a word, he rose and crossed to a writing desk. The inkwell clinked and a pen scratched.

Sorgrad moved to Litasse's side and offered a pristine handkerchief. She dried her face, biting the inside of her lip to stem any more tears.

Ferdain flung all the parchments at Aremil. 'And now?'

Aremil waited for the scar-faced man to retrieve the documents from the floor for him. He blew on the duke's signature to dry the ink before carefully rolling the instrument of abdication. 'Now you may make your arrangements to depart while we return to Hengere and secure Marlier's participation in the Conclave.'

'With Ridianne at your side,' Tathrin added, 'in case you think of going back on your word.'

The mercenary woman shot him a warning look. 'Only till I'm needed to kill those corsairs.'

'Bear in mind that copies of that abdication will be with Emperor Tadriol and the Archmage by nightfall.' Sorgrad smiled.

Aremil nodded. 'And nailed to shrine doors across Lescar on the first day of the Spring Festival.'

'And sent to the Caladhrian parliament,' Tathrin concluded.

'Thank you, Lord Ferdain, and we'll bid you good day. My lady?' Sorgrad opened the door.

Litasse saw Gren and his falsely liveried companion help Aremil onto his crutches. Tathrin went to offer his hand to Ridianne, who was gazing through the window. Ferdain stayed slumped in his chair, staring at the floor.

Litasse hesitated on the threshold. 'It's all over?'

'It is for you,' Karn hissed in her ear as he dragged her bodily into the hallway.

He flung her hard into the wooden panelling. As she slid down to the floor, breath knocked out of her, she saw the door opposite stood open. He must have got wind of their presence in the castle and lain in wait.

'I told you there'd be a reckoning.' Sword and dagger ready, Karn stood between her and Sorgrad.

The Mountain mage drew his single sword. Gren and the falsely liveried mercenary flanked him, naked blades in hand. Tathrin guarded Ferdain's doorway.

'Once I've gutted your sunny-haired friends, I'll finish you and your limping pal,' Karn promised him.

'Karn!' As Litasse protested, pain lanced through her. She pressed a hand to her bruised ribs.

'I won't betray Master Hamare, Your Grace,' he hissed.

Litasse managed to draw a shallow breath. 'Hamare would understand.'

It was true. She knew Hamare would see there was no longer any victory to be won here. They could have run away together to a new life in Col, letting Iruvain find his own path to Poldrion.

Litasse closed her eyes on the pain of her lover's loss. She could have been back in that tower room with the scent of his blood turning her stomach, its stickiness beneath her fingers.

She looked at her hand. It was red. Karn had stabbed her. She looked wonderingly at a stubby dagger fallen onto the carpeted floor. The scabbarded blade beneath her skirts mocked her.

Would she find Hamare waiting for her at Saedrin's door?

''Grad!' Gren's harsh voice cut through her confusion.

Sorgrad rasped something in the Mountain tongue before advancing on Karn. 'You shouldn't have done that, friend.'

Karn launched a sword blow to his head. Sorgrad blocked it with a downward-pointing blade. Karn took a sidestep to thrust his dagger at the Mountain Man's midriff.

Sorgrad caught that blade with the hilt of a knife drawn from some concealment. With a deft move, he stepped beyond the gaunt man's dagger's reach. As he did so, a twist freed his sword to slice at Karn's neck.

Karn leaped backwards out of danger. Sorgrad pursued him, sword still swinging towards Karn's head. The gaunt man parried the blade with his dagger as his sword hacked down and around towards Sorgrad's knee.

The Mountain Man brought his sword down to ward off the blow. That freed Karn's dagger. He ripped it across Sorgrad's forearm. Blood sprayed across the panelling. Sorgrad barely avoided Karn's sword spilling his entrails across the carpet.

Karn thrust again. Sorgrad foiled the sword with his knife and swung his blade hard at Karn's head yet again. Karn caught the blow with his own dagger. They stood braced, unable to break free without offering the other a killing blow.

Litasse saw Sorgrad smile. Quick as lightning, he pulled his sword free and drove the tip deep into her faithful servant's thigh.

As blood gushed from the wound, Karn cursed. Litasse saw his hand let the dagger fall. Only he caught the hilt, his grip reversed. Karn threw himself forwards to plunge the dagger into Sorgrad's chest and they fell tangled together.

Litasse tried to cry out but she couldn't breathe. Everyone else was shouting. Tathrin and the liveried man dragged Karn's body away. Now Ridianne guarded the doorway with her unsullied sword. Gren embraced his brother, blood turning his red livery to maroon.

Sorgrad threw him off and crawled towards Litasse. As Karn's dagger slid from his wound, swift darkness spread across his scarlet Marlier livery.

'Forgive me, dear heart,' he said tightly.

Litasse had no breath to answer as he reached for her hand. Unutterable pain tore through her, to release her from all her torments.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Tathrin

Carluse Castle,

Lescar,

Spring Equinox Festival, Fifth Day, Evening

The outer courtyard was full of people coming and going. He walked more swiftly, refusing to let anyone catch his eye. Let them think he was about some urgent business.

Where to go to find peace and quiet? The castle's inner ward would be just as crowded, the same endless, unanswerable questions flung at him.

Tathrin was exhausted. As each day of this festival had ended his head was aching fit to split. It was all he could do to beg some relief from Master Welgren and fall into bed beside Failla. He was lucky to stay awake long enough to find her hand among the quilts, before waking to take up the same burdens again.

What if he left the castle? Could he pass through the gates without some sentry delaying him until an importuning crowd gathered? Where would he go in the town if he did? It was full to bursting with all those gathered for this cursed Conclave. Even men and women with no formal involvement had travelled to Carluse out of sheer curiosity. He wanted Failla but she had hurried away after their hastily snatched breakfast and he hadn't seen her since.

'Tathrin!'

He could almost have sworn his exasperated thought had summoned her.

'Come on.' She laced her fingers through his, drawing him towards the great hall.

'Where are we going?' He couldn't face another flurry of introductions swiftly followed by competing demands.

Failla stopped and smiled. 'No guildsmen, no priests, no nobles, no questions.'

Tathrin felt his weary spirits lift a little. 'That sounds promising.'

'Master Sayron!' A sturdy matron bustled towards them.

'Forgive me, Mistress Hesdin.' Failla bobbed a curtailed curtsey. 'We're needed elsewhere.'