The Crown of the Conqueror (47 page)

  Seeming to step from the shadows cast by a brazier, Lakhyri reappeared, stooping down to lay his fingertips upon Noran's brow.

  "Join us," the priest whispered.

  Noran awoke with a gasp and looked around with frantic eyes for a moment before springing to his feet. His words were incoherent as he staggered a few paces, eyes roving until they fell upon the king.

  "Ullsaard!" Noran seemed startled by the sound of his own voice, which was as mellow and enunciated as it had been before his injuries. "Ullsaard?"

  The king jumped up and embraced his friend with a laugh. Noran lifted up his hands and examined them, wiggling his fingers with a smirk. The smile faded and he pulled from Ullsaard's arms.

  "This does not feel right," said Noran. He looked around the pavilion room, eyes fearful. They stopped when they fell upon Lakhyri. "What are you?"

  "Questions can wait," said the high priest. "Time is now being counted, Ullsaard. I have recovered your friend's essence from the pit into which it had fallen, but to do so I draw on the strength of your body. Every beat of Noran's heart steals one from you."

  "What does he mean?" said Noran. As he turned back to the king, he spied Askhos on the couch and gave a delirious giggle. "Do you know who you look like?"

  "It doesn't sound like we have much time for explanations," said Ullsaard, grabbing his friend by the shoulders to gain his attention. "Think of this as a dream. That is King Askhos, and this is Lakhyri, the founder of the Brotherhood. You have been brought here to help me."

  "How?" asked Noran. Ullsaard looked to Lakhyri for the answer.

  "Outside of your dream, your body is in an unwaking sleep," said the priest. "You are in Magilnada with two of Ullsaard's wives and are being held hostage."

  "Hostage?"

  "Concentrate, Noran, please," said Ullsaard. "Listen to Lakhyri but save your questions."

  The high priest waited for a moment, until Noran nodded that he was ready to continue.

  "Anglhan had turned against your king, and to stop Ullsaard from taking back the city he threatens your life and that of Allenya and Meliu." Ullsaard frowned and raised a finger to silence Noran as he looked to speak again. Lakhyri carried on in a patient tone. "I will allow Ullsaard to give up some of his life to restore yours. Do not ask how; know only that it can be done. Through me, his energy will pass from his body into this dream and from this dream into your body, restoring some of your strength. You will revive and when you do so, you must escape the city with your queens."

  Noran nodded uncertainly.

  "I don't know if you are free to move around, if you're imprisoned, in Anglhan's palace or anything else," said Ullsaard. "Nobody expects you to recover, and you must use that surprise to free Allenya if you can. I have troops outside the city, in disguise near the city gate, who will escort you here once you are out of Magilnada."

  "Right," said Noran. "Lots of questions, no time. I understand, I think. So, what happens now?"

 

A bird was chirping merrily to itself nearby. Noran felt a soft mattress beneath him, a pillow under his head, sheets tight across him. Probably not a cell, he thought. He opened one eye and in dim, pre-dusk light he saw a ceiling painted with a mural of a boar hunt. He turned his head to look around. Even this slight movement sent a wave of nausea through him, causing him to lurch to one side, vomiting a small stream of liquid onto the carpeted floor.

  Wiping his hand over his mouth, Noran noticed a yellow hue to his skin. He opened his other eye carefully, expecting more sickness but none came. His fingernails were brittle, cracked, the flesh wasted away to reveal bulging knuckles.

  Noran raised his fingertips to his face, felt hollow, fleshless cheeks and a sheen of sweat. His body trembled from weakness and he lay still for a moment, his breath shallow, heart beating perilously weak. Hunger gnawed at him, every bone ached and his eyes burned even in the gloom, the calls of the bird shrill in his ears.

  "Cannot stay here," he said, his voice a wheeze that shocked him. He took a ragged breath and sat up quickly, preparing himself for the wave of dizziness that struck. Glancing down, he saw that he was naked. Checking the room slowly he saw no wardrobe or chest that might contain clothes. "Not the first time I have had to run naked from a house," he reminded himself with a chuckle.

  He gingerly swung his legs free and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. One hand on the wooden frame, he hauled himself up, steadier than he had expected. Movement seemed to help, quickening his pulse, strengthening fibres and sinews not used for a long while.

  Noran slid his foot through the pile of the carpet in a faltering step, half-twisted to maintain his balance with the help of the bedstead. Like a child, he reluctantly released his hold and tottered forward a few paces, a smile on his face.

  "Congratulations," he told himself. "Next you can teach yourself how to piss standing up. Come on, this is no time to be cautious."

  His confidence fuelling his steps, he walked to the window and pushed back one of the shutters. Daybreak was not far off, the glow to dawnwards visible above the houses on the opposite side of the street. As yet the city was not awake. He dredged his memories for everything he knew of Magilnada from the time he had spent here before Ullsaard's pretend liberation. Noran had walked every street and alley and square over those long days of misery. The recollection brought a stab of pain as he remembered his depression, caused by the death of his wife and unborn son.

  Holding himself up on the sill of the window, Noran bowed his head for a moment, the emotional agony of the memory greater than any soreness in his atrophied body. He fought back tears, fingers gripping the sill tightly, picturing the lovely Neerita. Looking back into the street, he realised Ullsaard's family were still in the house they had shared with Noran and his other wife, Anriit. He wondered if Neerita's older sister still lived here, and whether he would bother taking her from the city.

  The creak of a foot on a floorboard outside the door caused Noran to spin. The handle turned and he staggered across the chamber as the door opened. A middle-aged woman in the garb of servant stepped inside, eyes widening in surprise and Noran lunged, grabbing her arm in one hand, clamping his other over her mouth as he dragged her inside.

  She struggled and his weak body failed him, losing his grip on both her arm and face as he tumbled to the carpet.

  "Master Noran!" the woman yelped, crouching beside him.

  "Hush woman! Do not speak, but listen!"

  With the maid's help, Noran regained his feet and leaned against the wall, signalling for the servant to close the door. When she had done so, he pulled her towards the bed and they both sat down.

  "What is your name?" he asked.

  "Laasinia," the woman replied, eyes averted from the noble's nakedness. "I am Queen Allenya's senior handmaiden."

  "Yes, Laasinia, I am remembering now," said Noran. He took her hand in his, squeezing it in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. "Look at me, Laasinia."

  She turned her head, eyes betraying her confusion.

  "It is important that you listen to exactly what I say, and not to waste time with asking why," he told her. She nodded. "First of all, do not tell anyone of my recovery yet."

  "But Queen Meliu…"

  Noran hushed her with a wave of his hand.

  "Not yet," he said. "I need you to get me clothes, first."

  "A chest of your robes and shirts is in another room," said Laasinia, standing up. Noran pulled her back and she tried to step away.

  "No, not my own clothes," he said, thinking as quickly as he could. "Is there a servant of right height and build?

  Laasinia looked him up and down and nodded again.

  "Saamiaris is about your size," she said. "He is a cook. He has already left for the market; I can get clothes from his room."

  "Good," said Noran, standing up. "When you have done that you must find other clothes, for your mistresses."

  Again Laasinia opened her mouth to speak and Noran raised a finger to silence her.

  "Do not ask me how I know, but there has been threat made against Ullsaard's family," he explained, the words coming quickly. "They are in danger, right now. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it will be. I have to get them out of the city, and servants' clothes will make a good disguise. Do you understand?"

  "Not everything," Laasinia admitted, "but I will do as you say. Shall I wake my mistresses?"

  "When I am more respectable, I shall attend to that," said Noran. "Tell me, does my wife, Anriit, still live here?"

  "She left," Laasinia said, embarrassed. "She has returned to Askh to seek the annulment of your marriage."

  "One less thing to worry about," muttered Noran. He focussed on Laasinia. "Try not to let on to the other servants what you are doing. The house may be watched, and I do not know if the man who wishes harm to your mistresses has his own people in the household."

  Even as he spoke the words, Noran wondered if he could trust the woman. She had served Ullsaard's family back in Askh, he remembered, but it was possible that Anglhan might have turned her loyalties. It was too late now, he realised.

  "Can you do these things?" he asked.

  "I will," said Laasinia. "The kitchen staff have taken the cart to the market, but I shall send a boy for another to take you to the gates."

  "Good thinking," Noran said, patting her on the arm. "Do not say what is for."

  "Of course not," she said, offended by the suggestion. "If the matter is as serious as you say, I will see my mistresses safely away from the city, do not doubt that."

  Noran leaned forward and kissed Laasinia on the forehead, startling her.

  "You are a gem, Laasinia," he said. "I am sure Allenya and Meliu will be very grateful."

  "Let us hurry," said the maidservant, stepping briskly away. "It is market day and the streets will be busy by mid-Dawnwatch. Better that we are on our way before then."

  Noran nodded and watched her as she opened the door and slipped outside, closing it quietly behind her. It opened again a moment later, causing Noran to jump. He relaxed as he saw Laarisia's face peer around the frame.

  "You look like you need food, master," she said. "I'll bring something with the clothes."

  Before Noran could thank her, she was gone again, her footsteps fading on the landing beyond the door. He paced back and forth at the foot of the bed as he waited, trying to come up with a list of things he would need. A weapon of some sort would be good. He wandered back to the window, scrutinising the street for any sign of somebody watching the house. It was impossible to say; dozens of windows on the houses along the street could see the main gate to the courtyard. He consoled himself with the thought that at least they were not locked up in some dungeon somewhere. Compared to that, smuggling themselves out of the city would be easy.

  He turned quickly as the door opened again. Laasinia entered with a bundle of clothes in her arms, some bread and fruit perched atop the pile. She laid these on the bed with a nod to the nobleman and left again without a word. Though now ravenous, Noran took a cautious bite of an apple. It tasted sweet as juice ran down his throat and he fought the urge to finish off in a few bites, wary of taxing his shrunken gut. He had heard tales of the ailments that had befallen legionnaires over-indulging after long campaigns on march rations. He dragged on a heavy woollen kilt, apple held between his teeth, and tied the roped fastenings, marvelling at how skinny he was. The fit was adequate; for a cook, Saamirias did not sample much of his labours it seemed.

  Finishing off the apple, Noran tossed the core onto a side table and ripped a hunk of bread from the loaf. He stuffed this in his mouth and chewed laboriously as he pulled the shirt over his head. The coarse fabric itched at his skin, nothing like the fine clothes he had been used to. Resisting the urge to scratch everywhere, he pulled on the sandals, a little too big for his feet, and tied the thongs as tightly as he could. There was a heavy, sleeveless jacket too, and he dragged this on to complete the outfit. Taking another apple and the loaf, he padded across the room and opened the door a fraction.

  He could hear the sounds of servants elsewhere in the house, but the landing was empty. Knowing that Allenya would be the calmer of the two queens, he tiptoed out and to the left, heading for her bedchamber, keeping to the wall. He stopped at the second door and paused as he heard footfalls on the stair behind. Coiling to pounce if need be, he waited with breath held, letting it out in a rush as Laasinia stepped onto the landing. She saw him and nodded, lifting up a sack in her hand.

  Taking the bag, Noran quietly opened the door to Allenya's room. Any feelings of intrusion were washed away by Noran's urgency; both from fear of discovery and ignorance of how long he would be able to continue walking and talking.

  Ullsaard's wife was sprawled on the bed, covers in disarray, one arm flung out, her face hidden behind a mass of dark curls on the pillow. Noran could not stop himself admiring the graceful curve of her exposed thigh. He quickly dismissed the distraction; having sex with one of the queens had been a mistake, lusting after this one would be suicide.

  "Allenya," he whispered, crouching down in front of her. "Allenya, wake up."

  She stirred, rolling to her back, eyes flickering open. There was a moment of vagueness before she sat bolt upright to stare at Noran.

  "Yes, I'm back," he said, knowing exactly what thoughts were going through Allenya's mind. "There is no time to explain, and I do not know if I understand it myself."