Tahn (28 page)
They will know I am still capable of the grandest of kills, even alone. I will challenge him. Such a prideful man will not back down in front of family and friends. I have heard he is angry with me. Well and good! And none can fault me the victory in a fair fight.
Lionell Trent was pacing in the courtyard of the baron’s estate, listening to the shouts of protest from the group of citizens who had followed his father to the gates. He had already learned from a soldier what had happened at Onath, and he was incensed by it. His father’s precious plan for power had backfired in an outrageous way. How could the House of Trent save face now that the people openly accused the baron of war on the Triletts?
It created a danger even from other noble houses who might fear that the baron’s mayhem could spread to them. There had been only rumors against the baron before. But now? Any of the other noblemen might claim justification to rise against the Trents!
Lionell quivered with anger.
For his own greed, Father has endangered my future! Almost I could kill him for that. People will not honor me now. They will not bow when I grace their village streets. More likely that they toss their rotted vegetables with a shout of death to the House of Trent.
How could his father have been so stupid? He must have known there would be Triletts alive somewhere. He deserved whatever came against him. But the rest of the Trents? They were cursed to have the baron as their head.
He watched his mother hurrying past with her nurse toward his father’s private house. His mother was so upset over his injury. She continued to dote on him as though he had done nothing to disgrace the family name.
Lionell sat on an ironwork bench and put his head in his hands.
Do the others really realize what tonight’s events could mean to them?
There was a hush suddenly among the voices at the gate, and Lionell looked up. One of the soldiers was starting across the courtyard toward the baron’s quarters with a sullen expression.
“What is it, Marcus?” Lionell asked him.
“The mercenary, Samis, has come to see your father.”
“Alone?”
“It appears so.”
Lionell shook his head. The man was bold. Surely he must understand that the baron would not be in good temper right now.
“Did he tell you why?”
“He claims he has a worthy plan.”
Lionell snorted. What need did they have of more plans? They had gained only trouble by them so far.
“Why would he come to Father with it?” he wondered aloud. “I would expect the man to be angry for the loss of his prisoner.”
“He is,” the soldier said. “I can tell it. That is why I will ask the baron before opening the gate to him. They are both in foul moods tonight. They might kill each other.”
Lionell stared at him in surprise and could not suppress his smile. There might be a way to save his future after all.
“Bring him in, Marcus,” he told the soldier.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Bring him in. I want to talk to him.”
“But he is a dangerous man, sir.”
“And we can be just as dangerous, with our numbers of soldiers within the gates. I don’t fear him. I would hear him out before he troubles my father again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! Show him here!” He watched the soldier walking away, shaking his head.
Our men have little confidence in us lately,
Lionell thought.
They have had good reason to doubt, but that will change.
He started thinking about what he might say to the mercenary to encourage a duel. But the soldiers had no good feelings for Samis, after his men abandoned them in the press of the crowd at Onath. It was doubtful they would honor his victory in a duel with the baron. And even though the baron might actually consider such a thing, Lionell’s mother would surely change his mind. Lionell sighed. If a duel was impossible, there must be some other way.
Marcus was returning quickly with the old warrior, and Lionell didn’t think he looked so dangerous.
He’s an old man who thinks the world should revolve around him. Just like my father.
He had once been strong, no doubt about that. Lionell had heard enough about him to know he was formidable as a friend or a foe, not someone to be taken lightly. But in the pale moonlight, he was looking old, his graying hair dampened by beads of sweat though the night was increasingly chilly.
“I am favored to meet the young Baron Trent at last,” Samis said.
Lionell didn’t answer for a moment. That title would not be appropriate for him until his father’s death. Still, it was a civil greeting, and it surprised him. Marcus stood behind Samis, the distrust obvious on his face.
“You may leave us, Marcus,” Lionell told him.
“Sir—”
“No. Do not argue. I am sure Mr. Samis knows that any guest who seeks to do us harm will not leave here alive.” He smiled. “He
is
within our gates, after all. Go on, Marcus. I will take him to Father myself if he has something of importance to tell him.”
Reluctantly, the soldier left them alone.
“You are a bold young man,” Samis told the Trent heir.
“You are far bolder, to come here tonight. Surely you realize that my father is not happy with your services.”
“My services have not been the problem. The folly is in him.”
“To my face, you call my father a fool?”
“You know it to be so!” Samis blurted. He leaned one arm against a tree and took a deep breath. “You know the trouble he has caused all of us. It was his responsibility to consider consequences. He is more than a fool. The snake sought to blame me for his stupidity! Then he took my prisoner for his scheme and accomplished nothing but endangering the lives of his men. You, young baron, should understand what he has cost me. I needed Tahn Dorn dead. And I need my reputation cleared of this mess.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“My quarrel is not with you. I tell you plainly that I came here to ask your father to face me in a fair fight, if he is man enough!”
Lionell could not suppress his pleasure, but he tried not to appear too forward. “Marcus told me you would relish the opportunity for a duel.”
“Indeed. No one crosses me so. Not even a nobleman who has paid me well.”
“As though you bore no fault, mercenary!” Lionell exclaimed. “There would have been no Triletts to stir up Onath if your men had done their jobs. You were responsible for that.”
This time Samis smiled, but there was something sinister deep in his gray eyes. “You are bolder even than I thought.”
The young man squirmed, suddenly painfully aware how well armed this man was, while he himself wore no weapon.
He has come to kill Father,
Lionell understood.
He has come without fear, completely confident of his ability to get it done. So let it be. I’ll not be an obstacle in his path.
“Mr. Samis,” he said, “I have no quarrel with you. I know my father made a grave miscalculation to attack such a popular rival. The House of Trent may never recover its honor in the eyes of the people. Father has done me a terrible disservice.” He smiled suddenly, an idea forming in his mind.
“You do not protest my challenge of him, then?” Samis asked with a searching look that betrayed his satisfaction.
“I don’t, no. But my mother will, and she will convince my father not to fight you, regardless of his anger. Because he is injured, he will listen to her. And our soldiers do not appreciate you, sir. If you kill him openly, even at a duel, they would not be pleased to let you live.”
Samis didn’t seem the least bit concerned by that. “You have a reason for telling me this?”
“I want the House of Trent to own the respect it deserves. That is no longer possible under my father’s leadership.”
Samis laughed. “Kill him yourself, then! There is no one worthier.”
Lionell scoffed. “I would not estrange my mother so. The poor soul
loves
him! No, my father has brought death upon himself. Let his own dagger kill him.”
Samis narrowed his eyes and stared at Lionell. The sweat now rolled down the mercenary’s cheeks. He looked deathly gray.
Perhaps that is part of the reason he is so feared,
Lionell thought.
Samis, the corpse who kills.
“I will give you an opportunity with my father alone,” Lionell told him. “Choose daggers, and do not cut him until he is down. Use his own weapon and leave it in him. Then I will shut his doors till morning and see you out in peace. Tomorrow, Mother shall mourn what will appear he did to himself in his despair.”
Samis shook his head. “I came to kill him. I want it known that I did.”
“I will pay you well for your loss of fame. You know I will have his riches. Tell your own men, or your women, if they love such things. I will give you one of his rings to prove you have been here. Only let the masses shake their heads at such a dishonorable death.”
“The young serpent is a venomous one.”
“I think of it as realistic, sir. When he sent his men to drag the Triletts out of a church, he doomed himself to disgrace. What choice have I? Live and die with him in the wrath of our countrymen? I shall not! In a couple of days, when I have recovered somewhat from the shock of my father’s suicide, I shall send Benn Trilett a careful letter of apology for my father’s behavior and a plea for peace between our great houses—that should placate the other nobles. Father can carry the blame to his grave. And you, sir, may comfortably do as you wish with the rest of your days.”
“It must lie in your blood to scheme.”
“You know this can be successful. Even if I am found out, only Mother would chastise me. All the world would see my reasons.”
“Your mother must eventually sleep, boy. Why don’t you do the deed yourself then in secret?”
Lionell bristled at being called a boy. He was twenty-five. But it was a valid question requiring a truthful answer. “Mr. Samis, you have
craved
to do it. And I need peace with you as much as with everyone else to recover the standing that
I
crave! I do not wish your grudge against him to follow me about like a shadow. For the opportunity to part as friends, I will compensate you generously.”
“Very well,” he said. “If it please you, I would be of service to the new baron as I was to the old. Perhaps you shall appreciate me more.”
“You can be sure of it. I will not repeat his mistakes.”
T
ahn tossed on his bed of blankets. He dreamed of Samis, fiery and younger, chasing him with the terrible sting of his whip. With a cry, he opened his eyes. He was still in the old church. A strange man sat beside him.
“Deep breath now,” the man said. “Slow. It will be easier.”
He tried to obey. “You’re the healer?”
“No, son. I am the priest.”
That surprised Tahn, but it was comforting. “Thank you for allowing me here. I am indebted.” He tried to look around him, but every movement hurt. This room was small and dark, and he could hear voices nearby, but he saw no one else. “Where’s Vari?”
“The boys are sleeping, I think. He is the oldest, yes?”
“Yes.”
“He went to check on them. I expect he’ll be back, though it would do him good to rest.”
It was no surprise to hear of Vari’s watchfulness. “He is becoming like me for worrying. But there has been reason.”
The priest laid a warm hand on Tahn’s shoulder, but the troubled thoughts poured over him regardless. “The baron won’t be pleased losing his prisoner,” he breathed out painfully. “Nor Samis. He won’t stop. And I fear I will be of little use to you if we are attacked.”
“Do not fear. Almighty God will protect us. You can have faith in him.”
Tahn tried to move, and groaned with the pain. “I have little experience at faith,” he admitted. “But I know Samis well. He won’t give up. Not while he lives. The little ones—”
“Stop,” the priest told him kindly. “It is in God’s hands.”
“I—I may have to kill him, when I’m able. God help me! I don’t want to kill again, but … but he—”
“No, son. It is in God’s hands. You must leave it there. He will take care of you and your children.”
“The Triletts!” Tahn suddenly remembered. “Does the lady’s father know what he’s up against? Are they safe here?”
Father Anolle smiled down at him. “They are safe. Can you let it go from your mind? Can you trust God and relax?”
He gasped again in his pain. It was so hard to lie here unsure if he could even get up. “I will try to trust. I told you I worry. But not without cause.”
“Do you thirst?”
“Yes, sir.”
The priest helped him drink and then laid his head down gently. But thoughts of Samis’s whip entered Tahn’s mind again. Back then, he couldn’t escape it. He had sunk to the floor with arms over his head, a child of Doogan’s age, bearing the awful blows. He started shaking, took a deep breath, and struggled to speak. “I know what he would do with me. He said he would burn me alive. But it is the children—”
“Please, son. You need to rest and—”
“Trust God—I know. But Jesus, help me! Let Samis never take another child!”
“Netta told me you had called on his name,” someone spoke from the doorway.
