Rise Of Empire (56 page)

Royce scowled. “You see my point? Yes, I know his name and they know ours. We might as well wear uniforms and move into Arista’s old room.”

They climbed the stone steps to the main entrance, where a soldier quickly opened a door for them and gave a slight bow. “Master Melborn, Master Blackwater.”

“Hey, Digby.” Hadrian waved as he passed. When he caught Royce scowling, he added, “Sorry.”

“It’s a good thing we’re both retired. You know, there’s a reason there are no famous
living
thieves.”

Hadrian’s heels echoed on the polished floor of the corridor as they walked. Royce’s footsteps made no sound at all. They crossed the west gallery past the suits of armor and the ballroom. The castle appeared as empty as the rest of the city. As they approached the reception hall, Hadrian spotted Mauvin Pickering heading their way. The young noble looked thinner than Hadrian had remembered. There was a hollow cast to his cheeks, shadows beneath his eyes, but his hair was the same wild mess.

“About time,” Mauvin greeted them. “Alric just sent me to look for you.”

Two years had passed since his brother Fanen’s death, and Mauvin still dressed in black. The haunted look in his eyes would be unnoticeable to most. Only those who had known him before the contest in Dahlgren would see the difference. That had been when Sentinel Luis Guy attacked Hadrian with a force of Seret Knights, and Mauvin and Fanen had taken up
arms with him. The brothers had fought masterfully, as was the nature of Pickerings. Yet Mauvin had been unable to save his brother from the killing stroke. Before that day, Mauvin Pickering had been bright, loud, and joyful. He had worn a permanent smile and challenged the world with a wink and a laugh. Now he stood with his shoulders slumped and his chin dipped.

“You’re wearing it again?” Hadrian gestured toward Mauvin’s sword.

“They insisted.”

“Have you drawn it?”

Mauvin looked at his feet. “Dad says it doesn’t matter. If the need arises, he’s certain I won’t hesitate.”

“And what do you think?”

“Mostly I try not to.” Mauvin opened the doors to the hall and let them swing wide. He led Royce and Hadrian past the clerk and the door guards into the reception hall. Tall windows let in the late-morning light, casting bright spears on the parquet floor. The great tapestries still lay rolled in bundles against the wall, stacked in hope of a better day. In their places, maps with red lines covered by blue arrows pointing south plastered the walls.

Alone, Alric paced near the windows, his crowned head bowed and his mantle trailing behind him like—
like a king
, Hadrian thought. Alric looked up as they entered, and pushed the rim of the royal diadem back with his thumb.

“What took you so long?”

“We ate breakfast, Your Majesty,” Royce replied.

“You ate break—Never mind.” The king held out a rolled parchment. “I’m told you delivered this dispatch to the castle this morning?”

“Not me,” Royce said. Unrolling it, he found two parchments and began reading.

“I did,” Hadrian admitted. “I just arrived from Ratibor. Your sister has matters well in hand, Your Majesty.”

Alric scowled. “Who sent this?”

“I’m not sure,” Hadrian replied. “I got it from a man named Price in Colnora.”

Royce finished reading and looked up. “I think you’re about to lose this war,” he said without bothering to add the expected
Your Majesty.

“Don’t be absurd. This is likely a hoax. Ecton is probably behind it. He enjoys seeing me make a fool of myself. Even if it’s authentic, it’s simply someone making wild claims to extort a bit of gold from the New Empire.”

“I don’t think so.” Royce handed the letter to Hadrian.

King Alric—

Found this on a courier traveling from Calis to Aquesta. Sweepers bumped him in Alburn but he was more than he seemed. Three Diamonds dead. Bucket men caught him and found this letter addressed to the regents. The Jewel thought you’d like to know.

Esteemed Regents
,

T
he fall of Ratibor was unexpected and unfortunate but, as you know, not fatal. Thus far, I have delivered Degan Gaunt and eliminated the wizard Esrahaddon. This completes two-thirds of our contract, but the best is yet to come.

The
Emerald Storm
rests anchored in Aquesta Harbor, ready to sail. When you receive this message, place the payment on board along with the sealed orders I left. Once loaded, the ship will
depart, the fortunes of war will shift, and your victory will be assured. With the Nationalists eliminated, Melengar is yours for the taking.

While I have all the time in the world, you, on the other hand, might wish to make haste, lest the flame you call the New Empire is snuffed out.

Merrick Marius

“Merrick?” Hadrian muttered, and looked at Royce. “Is this …?”

Royce nodded.

“You know this Marius?” Alric asked.

Again, Royce nodded. “Which is why I know you’re in trouble.”

“And do you know who sent this?”

“Cosmos DeLur.”

“Isn’t Cosmos a wealthy merchant in Colnora?”

“He’s also the leader of the thieves’ guild known as the Black Diamond.”

Alric paused to consider this, then paced once more. “Why would he send this to me?”

“The Diamond wants the Imps out of Colnora. I guess with Gaunt gone, Cosmos thought you could make the best use of this information.”

Alric stroked his beard thoughtfully. “So who is this Merrick fellow? How do you know him?”

“We were friends when I was a member of the Diamond.”

“Excellent. Find him and ask what this is all about.”

Royce shook his head. “I have no idea where Merrick is, and we’re not on good terms anymore. He won’t tell me anything.”

Alric sighed. “I don’t care what kind of terms you’re on.
Find him, resolve your differences, and get me the information I need.”

Royce said nothing and Hadrian hesitantly added, “Merrick had Royce sent to Manzant after he mistakenly killed the woman Merrick loved.”

Alric stopped pacing and stared. “Manzant Prison? But no one ever leaves Manzant.”

“That was the plan. I was happy to disappoint him,” Royce replied.

“Nowadays, Royce and Merrick have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s way.”

“So how can I find out if this Merrick is just boasting, or if there is a real threat to Melengar?”

“Merrick doesn’t boast. If he says he can turn the war in the New Empire’s favor, he can. I suggest you take this seriously.” Royce thought a moment. “If I were you, I’d send someone to deliver this message and then stow away on this ship and see where it leads.”

“Fine. Do that, and let me know what you find out.”

Royce shook his head. “We’re retired. Only a week ago I came here and explained how—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You said to take his threat seriously, which is why I need my best—and that means you.”

“Pick someone else,” Royce said firmly.

“All right, how much do you want? It’s land this time, right? Fine. As it happens, Baron Milborough of Three Fords was killed in battle a few weeks ago. He doesn’t have any sons, so I’ll grant you his estate if you succeed. Land, title—all of it.”

“I don’t want land. I don’t want anything.
I’m retired.”

“By Mar, man!” Alric shouted. “The future of the kingdom may depend on this. I’m the king and—”

Hadrian interrupted. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Alric and Royce asked together. “I said I’ll go.”

“You can’t take this job,” Royce told him as they walked back to The Rose and Thorn.

“I have to. If Esrahaddon is dead, Merrick is my only chance to find Gaunt. Do you think he really could have done it?”

“Merrick wouldn’t lie to a client about a job.”

“But Esrahaddon was a wizard. He’s survived a thousand years—I can’t imagine he could be murdered by a common killer.”

“I just said it was Merrick. He’s not common.”

As the two walked through an empty Gentry Square, even the bells of Mares Cathedral were silent. Hadrian sighed. “Then I’m on my own in finding the heir now. If I follow the payment to Merrick, I’ll be halfway to finding Gaunt.”

“Hadrian.” Royce placed a hand on his friend’s arm, stopping them mid-step. “You’re not up to this. You don’t know Merrick. Think a minute. If he can kill a wizard, one who could create pillars of fire even without hands, what do you think your chances are? You’re a good—no, you’re a great—fighter, the best I’ve ever seen, but Merrick is a genius and he’s ruthless. You go after him, he’ll know, and he’ll kill you.”

They were across from Lester Furl’s old haberdashery in Artisan Row, the shop that the monk Myron once worked in. The sign of the cavalier hat still hung out front, but the place was empty.

“Listen, I’m not asking you to come. I know you’re marrying Gwen. Congratulations on that, by the way. And it’s about time, I might add. This isn’t your problem. It’s mine. It’s what
I was born to do. What my father trained me for. Protecting Gaunt, and finding a way to put him on the imperial throne—that’s my destiny.”

Royce rolled his eyes.

“I know you don’t believe that, but I do.”

“Gaunt could be dead already, you know? If Merrick killed Esrahaddon, he might have slit Gaunt’s throat too.”

“I still have to go. By now, even you must see that.”

When they reached The Rose and Thorn, Gwen was waiting with anxious eyes. She stood on the porch, her arms crossed, clutching her shawl. The autumn wind brushed her skirt and hair. Behind her, within the darkened interior, patrons talked loudly around the bar.

“It’s okay,” Hadrian reassured her as they approached. “I’m taking the job, but Royce is staying. With luck I’ll be back for—”

“Go with him,” Gwen told Royce firmly.

“No—really, Gwen,” Hadrian said, “it’s nothing—”

“You have to go with him.”

“What’s wrong?” Royce asked. “I thought we were getting married. Don’t you want to?”

Gwen closed her eyes, shaken. Then her hands clenched into fists and she straightened. “You
must
go. Hadrian will be killed if you don’t—and then you … you …”

Royce took her in his arms on the steps of the tavern and held her as she began to cry.

“You have to go,” Gwen said, her voice muffled by Royce’s shoulder. “Nothing will be right if you don’t. I can’t marry you—I
won’t
marry you—if you don’t. Tell me you’ll go, please, Royce, please …”

Royce gave Hadrian a puzzled glance and whispered, “Okay.”