The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin (26 page)

"I was about to
send men to the inn to escort you here in comfort. You need not
have walked, the streets are not fit for a queen."

Tassin's brows
rose. "How did you know I was there?"

"My brother
last night encountered your man-at-arms, and lost, I might add. He
now nurses his arm and his pride."

"That was your
brother?"

Xavier looked
pained. "I am afraid so. Victor enjoys the entertainment available
at inns, though they are not a fitting place for a prince."

Tassin helped
herself to a buttered pastry a servant brought, along with an
elegant silver tea service. "Your brother put up a good fight. My
man is an excellent warrior."

The king
shrugged, his eyes sliding away. "He must be, for Victor has a
passion for combat. He has been trained by the best fighters
available, and has never been beaten before."

Tassin quelled
a spurt of pride at Sabre's prowess, trying to look suitably
chagrined. "I am vexed that he was injured. Had I known who he was,
I would never have allowed my man to fight him."

Xavier smiled.
"That is exactly why he goes to town incognito. If people knew who
he was, no one would challenge him, and he lives to fight."

A maid poured
the tea, and Tassin noticed that she filled three cups with the
steaming golden brew. Before she could ask who the third cup was
for, the carved doors at the far end of the room opened, and a tall
man entered with a brisk tread and lofty bearing. Tassin did not
recognise him until Xavier introduced him, for the pointed beard
had been removed, revealing lean swarthy cheeks and a cleft
chin.

Victor bowed
over her hand, and her heart leapt with hope. The prince's oriental
looks could only be described as handsome, and his dark eyes
flashed with subtle fire. His black tunic and trousers, edged with
silver and severe in their simplicity, indicated a similar taste to
her own. Plaster encased his right arm to the shoulder, and Tassin
found herself apologising for his injury.

"I do hope you
are not angry with me for starting that fight last night." Tassin
turned the full effect of her limpid eyes upon him.

Victor laughed.
"Not at all. A fight was exactly what I was looking for. I
recognised you right away, and your man looked a capable sort, so I
was keen to see how good he was. Naturally I was surprised when I
lost. He is a formidable fighter, and I hope I can procure a
rematch, perhaps even a few tips from him."

Tassin
demurred. "I am afraid he was very angry with me for starting the
fight. Sabre is a conservative man; he does not fight for fun."

"Angry with
you, Majesty? Surely he is yours to command?"

"Yes, of course
he is." Tassin cursed Sabre for making her forget her queenly
status. His reprimand had made her feel like a naughty child, a
novel sensation for her, and the memory irked her still. "I meant
he made it clear he was unhappy about it. He was afraid he might
kill you, and he does not enjoy fighting."

Victor's eyes
frosted. "Strange, for a man who excels at it. I assure you, I am
not that easy to kill."

Tassin cursed
her flapping tongue for getting her into all sorts of trouble. "Of
course not, perhaps Sabre is overconfident."

"I drew more
blood."

"Indeed you
did. You are an excellent fighter." Tassin took refuge in sipping
her tea to prevent herself from pointing out that Victor had been
the only one armed with a knife. She noticed the meaningful glance
that passed between the brothers, and when she looked up, Xavier
smiled at her.

"I am sure you
will excuse me. I have business to attend to, but Victor will be
glad to entertain you."

Tassin nodded,
and Xavier left. He was nice too, she mused, but married. Victor
was a real possibility though, and she was not about to let him
slip away. She had much to offer him, and he could save her from
the hateful Torrian. He invited her to walk in the gardens, and she
accepted, wanting to get to know him better. With any luck, she
would return to Arlin with a consort, and Torrian could take a
running jump into his moat.

When Sabre
arrived at the palace gates, he was not surprised to find that he
was expected. He only hoped he would be slung into the same dungeon
as Tassin, while she awaited Torrian's arrival. Then at least he
had a chance of freeing her. The guards demanded his weapons, and
he handed over his knife, hoping that if he co-operated, he would
be treated better than if he kicked up a fuss. He would be no good
to Tassin if he became embroiled in a major conflict with the
palace guard, who would undoubtedly win through sheer dint of
numbers and his reluctance to kill. The grizzled, craggy-faced
sergeant eyed the wrist laser with a frown.

"What's
that?"

"An
ornament."

"It could be
used as a weapon, remove it."

"I'm Queen
Tassin's man-at-arms. Surely I should be allowed to keep my
weapons?"

The sergeant
shook his head. "The Queen has no need of protection within the
palace. You'll get them back when you leave."

Sabre unclipped
the laser, switched off the power pack so it could be handled
safely, and gave it to a pimply-faced soldier who took it as if it
was a basket of vipers. "Now will you take me to the Queen?"

"No, now you'll
go to the dungeons."

"Where's the
Queen? Is she also in the dungeons?"

"Certainly
not," the sergeant snapped. "I believe she is having tea with
Prince Victor."

"Then why am I
going to the dungeons? What have I done?"

"You're a
commoner, and she's a queen. As to what you've done; nothing yet.
It's what you might do that we're trying to avoid."

A soldier
shackled Sabre's hands behind his back. "You mean when Torrian
arrives."

"Precisely."
The sergeant looked startled. "How do you know King Torrian's
coming?"

"Call it an
educated guess, since he's trying to capture her."

The officer
frowned. "But you obviously didn't warn the Queen. Well, you'll get
no chance to tell her now."

Two soldiers
gripped Sabre's arms and marched him around the side of the palace,
where a square of barracks enclosed a sandy training arena.
Spreading fruit trees overhung from the gardens, attracting swarms
of insects. Fallen fruit gave off a sweet tangy smell, and monkeys
scurried from their feast to leap into the foliage. The soldiers
took him to a formidable stone structure, marched him along a
corridor and down a flight of steps. They thrust him into a cell,
not bothering to remove his manacles. As soon as the door closed,
Sabre sat down and worked his hands around his rear so they were in
front of him, then took stock of his cell.

A barred window
near the roof let in light, and dirty straw covered the floor. A
hole in one corner gave off a foetid stink of stale urine,
indicating that it was used as a latrine. The sturdy door, made of
seasoned wood, would take considerable strength to break, but was
the only exit. Settling in the furthest corner from the smelly
hole, he waited for the cover of darkness to aid him in his bid to
free the idiotic Queen. The prospect of searching the palace
daunted him, but there was no other way.

Tassin enjoyed
Victor's company on their stroll through the palace gardens,
finding him to be polite and attentive. Strange, exotic plants and
trees crowded the vast acreage of verdure, and a veritable
menagerie of creatures populated it. Numerous ponds housed bright
fish and flowering lilies, and birds with stilt-like legs waded in
them. Victor pointed out some of the more bizarre flora,
enumerating their peculiarities with a depth of knowledge that made
her wonder if he was a closet horticulturist.

Tassin plucked
several sweet-scented flowers, and Prince Victor laughed and
flirted with her, apparently charmed by her light-hearted prattle.
After Sabre's rude company, he was a delight of decorum. All too
soon, however, a messenger interrupted their jaunt to whisper in
the prince's ear. Victor issued muttered instructions, and the
servant trotted away. The prince turned to her with a rueful
grimace.

"It seems I am
required elsewhere, but I have asked Queen Mirrial to keep you
company. I am sure she will be delighted to talk to you while I
attend to this trifling matter."

Tassin smiled,
raising her brows. "Must you hurry off? If it is such a trifling
matter, perhaps it can wait."

Victor returned
her smile rather tightly. "I am afraid I have to go, but I shall
hurry back to see you again." He glanced around. "Ah, here is
Mirrial now."

A petite,
stately woman approached them, her black hair swept up in an
elaborate coif studded with jewelled pins. A gold necklace clasped
her slender throat, and emeralds glowed on her fingers. Mirrial
possessed the dusky skin and exotic beauty of her people, and wore
an elegant, peacock-blue silk gown trimmed with white lace, which
swept the ground in graceful folds. She bestowed a warm smile upon
Tassin when Victor introduced them, and, as soon as he had
performed this duty, he bowed and strode away. Tassin gazed after
him, wondering what required his attention so urgently. Princes
generally did not have many duties, and those they did, they
usually preferred to avoid, yet Victor seemed eager to attend this
business.

Mirrial
gestured to a quartet of cushioned garden chairs around a
wrought-iron table. "Let us sit and chatter, Tassin. I am so
curious about your kingdom. You must tell me all about it."

"Yes, of
course." Tassin replied, tearing her thoughts from Victor.

Sabre looked up
in surprise when the door of his cell opened again so soon after he
had been incarcerated. A tall Olgaran man entered, his eyes
flicking over Sabre with a look of smug satisfaction. He looked
familiar, and Sabre stood up as the man closed the cell door and
stepped closer.

"You do not
recognise me, do you?"

Sabre noted the
cast on his arm. "You're the man I fought last night."

"Correct. I am
Prince Victor, brother of the king."

If Victor
expected Sabre to bow and apologise, he was disappointed. Sabre
nodded. "How's the arm?"

The prince
frowned. "Painful. Your skills impressed me, and I was surprised to
be beaten. I could, of course, order your execution to salve my
pride, but that would be a waste. I study fighting skills, and have
always considered myself the best knife fighter around. You, it
seems, are better than I, so I am offering you a chance to live.
Show me how you broke my arm and I will spare you."

"Where's Queen
Tassin?"

"Safe and
happy, talking to Queen Mirrial, at the moment. You need not
concern yourself with her. She will be well cared for. Now, what
about my offer?"

"If I refuse, I
assume I'll be taken directly to the hangman, or whatever you
people use."

Victor nodded
and shrugged. "The axe man. He is always on call."

Sabre's lips
twitched in a bitter smile. "Then I accept, naturally."

"Excellent."
Victor grinned, clearly knowing full well that the outcome of his
offer was never in doubt. "We will go to the training yard."

"Now?"

"Yes, I am
eager to see what you have to offer. The best fighters in all the
lands trained me, so I hope you will not disappoint me."

"So do I, since
I assume it will cost me my head."

Victor
chuckled, fingering his cast. "You are remarkably astute, for a
commoner."

"So only if I
show you something new, will my head remain joined to my
shoulders?"

"Correct.
Come." Victor turned and pushed open the door.

Sabre followed
him, and two soldiers fell in behind them. At the end of the short
corridor they emerged into the late afternoon sunlight, and Victor
headed for the training yard. Several men practised there with
swords and knives, stripped to the waist, their skin gleaming. A
stout wooden fence surrounded the sandy area, which boasted some
straw figures tied to poles and a few well-used targets. A stocky,
powerfully built man with grizzled black hair shouted instructions
at the warriors.

Victor
indicated the man with a rude finger. "That is my master arms man.
He taught me a great deal."

Sabre watched
the fighters without interest. "It would save a great deal of time
if you showed me what you already know."

Victor looked
peeved, probably at Sabre's omission of his title. "What weapons do
you know?"

"All of
them."

The prince's
brows shot up, and he smiled. "All? Sword, knife, lance, spear,
sling, bow, star, mace, dagger, sticks, staff, javelin, cutlass,
scimitar, cudgel, foil, um... rapier?" Sabre nodded, and Victor's
smile widened. "Then you may have a great deal to share with me.
What is your best weapon?"

"I have no
favourites. I prefer unarmed combat."

"I want you to
show me how you did this." The prince tapped the cast.

Sabre rested
his arms on the fence. "I can show you, but you'll never be able to
do it."

"Why is
that?"

"Explaining it
would take some time, but I'll be happy to, if you wish." Sabre
only needed to stall the prince for a couple of hours, and it would
be too dark to give a demonstration.

Victor
considered this. "Show me first, then you can explain it."

Sabre held out
his bound hands. At the prince's nod, a soldier stepped forward and
removed the shackles while Sabre gazed around the training yard. He
needed to impress the prince enough to prevent the axe man from
trying to chop his head off, but without revealing the true extent
of his abilities. If they did try to behead him, it would be even
more difficult to explain why the axe bounced off. Spying some
wooden planks stacked against a nearby wall, he pointed at
them.