Prince of the Blood (49 page)

Miya came to sit next to the Prince. “She’s lost her daughter. Her advisors are cautioning her that if she harms you or any of your party without leave of your King, she risks reprisals, and no Ambassador will dare enter the borders of Kesh again.” The woman sighed and put her arm around Erland’s shoulders. “She’ll change her mind in a day or two, I’m certain. Until then, you’re free to visit your friends in the other part of this wing, but you can’t leave this area without guards, and then only to return to the Empress’s court should she desire to see you again.”

Erland said, “How was the Princess murdered?”

Miya’s eyes brimmed but she kept from crying as she said, “Her neck was broken.”

Erland’s eyes narrowed. “Broken? In a fall of some sort?”

The woman shook her head. “No. There were bruises around her throat. Someone snapped her neck.”

Erland said, “Miya, this is important. Locklear couldn’t have killed your cousin.”

Miya studied the Prince’s face for a moment, then said, “How can you be certain?”

“I’ll tell you later. First we need to reach the Empress.”

Miya said, “I think I know someone who can help.”

“Who?”

“Lord Nirome. He’s always willing to listen to reason. And with Sojiana dead, the strain in the Gallery of Lords and Masters will be even greater, for while most would have accepted Sojiana as the next Empress, many of those will not accept someone as young as Sharana. Nirome will be anxious to reduce the strain in the court and finding the Princess’s murderer will more than likely do that faster than anything else.”

“I wonder …” said Erland, as he considered something. “Who stands with Awari?”

“Lord Ravi and the others who fear the matriarchy, but many who were supporters of Sojiana simply because she was eldest will now flock to Awari’s cause. I can’t think of any reason he would not inherit.”

Erland said, “See if you can get Nirome to call. We must halt this madness before it spills over into more bloodshed.”

The girl ran off and Erland sat back. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Gamina’s face and he attempted to send his thoughts to her. After a minute, her voice came into his mind.
Yes, Erland, what is it?

Would you and James please come to my quarters? I think I was premature in planning on sleep. There are some things we need to discuss
.

There was a moment of silence, then Gamina said,
We’re on our way
.

B
ORRIC GLANCED AROUND THE CORNER.

Seeing no movement in the shadows, he motioned for his companions to follow after him. For the better part of an hour they’d been hiding from various companies of guards intent on finding the intruders. Of Nakor they had seen nothing since he led the first party of Inner Legionaries away. A half dozen times since then they had barely managed to avoid search parties.

Ghuda put his hand on Borric’s shoulder. “We’re getting nowhere fast,” he whispered. “I think we’ve got to grab a servant and find out where these friends of yours are housed. We can tie the man up—it’ll just leave him uncomfortable for a while—then send someone to turn him loose when you’ve cleared up this bloody mess we’re in. What do you think?”

Borric said, “I can’t think of a better idea, so we might as well.” He glanced about. “We could all do with a short rest.”

Ghuda said, “I could use a few minutes off my feet, that’s for certain.”

“Well, these rooms all seem to be empty.” Pointing to the nearest door, he said, “Let’s check inside this one.”

Borric opened the door as quietly as he could; it was
an ornate thing of cane and ivory, and creaked loudly as he pushed on it. After it opened a few inches, he said, “Maybe we should go back to those doors with only curtains?”

Suddenly Ghuda pushed hard on the door, so that it made a single, surprisingly modest creak, then he shoved the other two through, swinging the door closed behind him.

Borric almost lost his balance and as he turned, the old fighter put his finger to his lips, indicating the need for silence. Borric had his rapier out and Suli his shortsword, and Ghuda stepped back, unlimbering his large hand-and-a-half sword. He stepped clear of the other two so he would have room to swing. Borric glanced around the deserted room, making sure there was nothing to trip him up if he had to fight. Not that it mattered: if he was forced to fight, there would be an unlimited supply of guards as far as the three of them were concerned. His only hope would be to keep from getting killed long enough to convince someone that he really was the other son of Arutha.

Tired, they all sat upon the floor, stretching muscles sore from tension and being on their feet for hours. Ghuda said, “You know, Madman, this sneaking around in the palace gives a man an appetite. I wish I had one of Nakor’s oranges right now.”

Borric was about to reply when a muffled sound caught his attention. Voices, indistinct but coming closer, caused him to jump to his feet and move to the door. Suli crouched down below Borric’s chin, so he might see. Borric was about to shoo the boy away, but the sound of someone approaching silenced him.

Two men came into view as they moved past the door. One was stout, with a staff of office clutched in his hand. The other was dressed in a black cloak, hiding him from view, but as they passed he turned and Borric caught a glimpse of his face. Both men were intent in conversation
and Borric overheard the stout one saying, “… tonight. We can’t wait any longer. If the Empress’s temper fades, she may seek a more reasonable solution. I convinced her to send Awari north in preparation for trouble there, but that ruse will not last long. And there’s this business of some maniac running loose in the palace that the guards can’t seem to catch. I don’t know what that means, but it must be presumed to be trouble.…” The voice faded as the men turned another corner.

Suli turned and pulled emphatically on Borric’s sleeve. “Master!”

“What?” said Borric, trying to sort out a rush of images.

“That man, the thin one in the black cloak. He’s the same man I saw at the Governor’s house in Durbin—the one who wore the golden torque. The one who worked for Lord Fire.”

Borric leaned back against the door, and nodded. “That makes evil sense.”

Ghuda put up his sword and whispered. “What’s this then?”

“I know why trouble’s been nipping at our heels since Durbin,” muttered Borric.

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I hope you both had a nice rest. It’s over. Right now, we’ve got to find that servant.”

Borric yanked open the door, rendering the squeaky hinge nearly inaudible. He moved out into the hall before Ghuda could question him further. Borric hesitated an instant, while the others moved through the door and closed it. He motioned for Ghuda and Suli to hug the wall.

At the next corner, the corridor turned, allowing for only one choice, so Borric followed the turn. No lights were burning in this wing of the palace and Borric
doubted it was usual for Keshian nobles to stumble around in the darkness, so there was likely no one about.

As they reached the far end of that hall, Borric turned and whispered, “Someone’s coming.” He motioned for Ghuda and Suli to move back against the wall, while he moved to the opposite side of the hall.

A lone woman hurried around the corner and Ghuda stepped out to block her progress. “What—” she began, then Borric seized her from behind. The woman was lithe and athletic, but Borric easily kept her under control as he dragged her into the first door in the hall.

Light from a room across from a window gave a faint illumination to the scene. The woman was kept under control as Borric whispered into her ear, “Make an outcry and you’ll be hurt. Remain silent and no harm will come to you. Do you understand?”

The woman gave him a single nod and he released her. Turning suddenly, she said, “How dare you—”

Then she saw who had seized her. “Erland? What has gotten into—” Her eyes widened as she saw the fashion of dress and the short-cropped dark hair. “Prince Borric! How did you get here?”

All Borric’s life, James had been telling stories about his days as a thief in Krondor, and one common characteristic of James’s farfetched tales was his reference to his “bump of trouble.” When something was wrong, James somehow sensed it. And for the first time in his life Borric understood what James had been talking about. Something inside of him screamed that there was trouble standing directly before him.

Taking his sword out, he leveled it at the woman. Ghuda said, “Madman, that’s not necessary. The woman—”

“Quiet, Ghuda. Woman, what’s your name?”

“Miya. I’m a friend of your brother’s. He will be so thrilled to discover you still live. As will Lord James and Lady Gamina and the others …” She looked down at the
tip of his sword touching her stomach. “What are you doing?” She laughed, and Borric knew it was as forced as it was artful, for it sounded genuine and spontaneous. “I prattle. It must be the shock of—”

“Seeing me in the palace,” Borric finished.

“ ‘Alive,’ I was about to say,” said Miya.

Borric said, “I don’t think so. When you first saw me, you thought I was my brother. Then you quickly understood I wasn’t. Anyone who thought I was dead would not have made that guess so quickly. And you didn’t say, ‘You’re alive,’ you said, ‘How did you get here?’ That’s because you knew I was alive and in the city below.”

The woman fell silent, and Borric said to Ghuda and Suli, “This is one of those who has been involved in trying to get me killed every step of the way from Krondor to Kesh. She works for Lord Fire.”

Miya’s eyes widened an instant at the mention of that name, but she gave no other sign of recognition. She said, “If I scream loudly enough, a dozen guards will come here in a moment.”

Borric shook his head no. “This wing has already been searched. We slipped behind the lines of those going room to room. Besides, they’re looking for one man.”

The woman’s eyes flashed as she stepped away, her glance measuring the distance to the door. “Don’t think of it,” said Borric. “It would be a close thing, but I’m faster than I look and I have four feet of reach you lack,” he said, pointing at her with the sword.

“You won’t get out of here alive; you know that. Things are already beyond quick and easy explanations. Blood has been spilled and soldiers march. Your father marshals the Armies of the West in the Vale of Dreams, ready to invade.”

“Your father?” said Ghuda. “And just who might he be when he’s to home?”

Borric said, “My father’s Prince Arutha of Krondor.”

Ghuda blinked like an owl caught in the light. “The Prince of Krondor?”

Suli said, “And I am his manservant, and will be his manservant when he is King of the Isles.” He grinned and puffed his chest out with pride.

Ghuda stood quietly for a long moment, then said, “Madman … Borric … Prince, whatever I’m to call you, when this is over remind me I need to knock you down again.”

“If we get out of this mess, I’ll be happy to stand still while you do it.” To Miya he said, “My father is many things, but no fool. He’d no sooner march an army into Kesh than I’d run into a bog of quicksand carrying an anvil.”

Ghuda said, “Well, from what I’ve seen you just might.”

Borric said, “She’s lying. And we need to get to my brother.” To Miya he said, “You’re going to guide us there.”

“No.”

Borric stepped forward, putting his sword against the woman’s throat. When Miya didn’t flinch, he said, “So, you have no fear of dying?”

“You’re no murderer,” spat Miya.

Rough hands moved Borric aside. Ghuda said, “He might not be, bitch.” Huge hands gripped the woman’s shoulders as he jerked her toward him, and from the expression of discomfort on Miya’s face in the gloom, Borric could imagine they were not gentle. Bringing her face scant inches from his own, Ghuda whispered, “But I’m a different stripe of cat. I have no use for you truebloods and your superior ways. I’d just as soon pet a snake as touch your soft skin. You could be on fire and I wouldn’t cross the street to piss on you. I’ll kill you slowly
and painfully, girl—I’ll start by breaking all the little bones in your hands—if you don’t tell us what we must know. And I will do it so you can’t even scream.”

The calm menace of the mercenary must have been convincing, for Miya could barely speak as she said, “I’ll take you.”

Ghuda released her, and Borric saw tears of terror running down the girl’s cheeks. He sheathed his rapier, then pulled his dagger from his belt. Showing her the short blade, Borric then gave her a shove toward the door and said, “Remember, you can’t get away. I can throw my dagger faster than you can run.”

Miya opened the door and they followed after. As they walked along, Ghuda said, “What tumbled you to her act?”

“My bump of trouble.”

“You could have convinced me you didn’t have one, for certain,” said the mercenary. “I’m glad it finally woke up.”

“Me too.”

“But you were already tumbled to something,” he said. “What made you alert to her?”

“She was heading in the same direction where I saw those two men heading, and one of them tipped me off.”

“What about him?”

“He’s been stalking me since we left Krondor. And he’s one of the few in Kesh who would recognize me on sight.”

“Who is he?” asked Ghuda, as they rounded a corner into a better-lighted corridor.

As the first pair of sentries standing before doors came into view, Borric moved a step closer to the girl in case she decided to bolt or call for help. To the mercenary he said, “The man was Lord Toren Sie, Kesh’s Ambassador to my father’s court.”

The mercenary shook his head. “He’s royal. Some very important people want you dead, Madman.”

“And some very important people want the truth,” answered Borric. “That’s what’s going to keep us alive a little longer.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” said the mercenary. Miya led them through the palace, past a series of guards standing before doors. If they thought it strange a member of the Empress’s household should escort three oddly dressed men past them, they hid it well. Miya turned down a large corridor, past another half dozen unguarded doors.