The Jackal of Nar (54 page)

“How do you know about her? I haven’t seen you since meeting her in Ackle-Nye. Did she send you to me?”

“Tharn sent me to you,” answered Lucyler. “But she knew I would be seeing you. She wanted me to give you something.” He put his hand inside his jacket, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a small gleaming object.

“My ring!” exclaimed Richius. He took it eagerly and slipped it onto his finger. It seemed like years since that day he had given it to Dyana, a key to ensure her safe entry into Aramoor. Miraculously, it had found its way back to him.

“She remembers you well, Richius. And she wanted me to tell you something. She said you would understand.”

“What?” asked Richius eagerly.

“Thank you.”

Richius looked away.

“Do you understand it?” asked Lucyler.

“Yes. She’s thanking me for trying to save her. She knew Tharn was looking for her. That’s why she was in Ackle-Nye. She wanted out of Lucel-Lor, and I told her I would send her home to Aramoor with Edgard. But your new master is a powerful man, Lucyler. He killed Edgard before she could go to him, and then used his damnable storms to abduct her. She never wanted to marry him and he knew it. But it doesn’t seem like he cares, does it?”

“Tharn cares,” said Lucyler calmly. “He is not the butcher you think. He is a man of peace, anointed by the gods to save us from ourselves. They have given him his powers. I never believed in his abilities before, but I see it now. He is not some evil sorcerer. He is a prophet.”

Richius smiled darkly at Lucyler. “I think that’s all rubbish, you know.”

“You don’t have to believe me. It’s not why I came here.”

“How did you do it, Lucyler? What was that image of you I saw?”

“Tharn called it a fetch,” said the Triin. “A way of projecting oneself across great distances. It was difficult. That is why I could not talk long. But I knew where you were. I
felt
you. And your wife. She was in your mind. I saw her face. You were arguing with her, yes?”

Richius bristled at the question. “Was that Drol magic? Did Tharn teach you how to do it?”

“Not magic. Only Tharn has the touch of heaven. But I needed a way to contact you, and he showed me how. He told me anyone could do it, if they believed. I still do not understand how it works, but I was able to appear to you.”

Richius dared the obvious question. “Why, Lucyler? What does he want from me?”

“Your influence,” answered Lucyler. He leaned back, resting his elbows in the dirt. “About a month ago a man arrived at the citadel in Falindar. The citadel is on the ocean, and the man came there alone in a little craft. This man was an agent from the king of Liss, and he wanted to speak to Tharn.”

“Liss?” asked Richius. As far as he knew, no native of that island nation had set forth from its shores in a decade. “Nar has a blockade around Liss. I don’t see how he could have come from there.”

“He escaped the dreadnoughts of Nar, leaving Liss in the dark of night and slipping his little craft past them. His trip was difficult. When he finally arrived in Falindar he was near death, starved from the long journey. But he was from Liss, and he had with him a sealed letter from his king, which he presented to Tharn.” Lucyler paused, staring hard at Richius. “What do you think it said?”

“Tell me.”

“The letter was a request for help. Liss was asking for Lucel-Lor’s aid in their war against your Empire. I suppose word reached them of how we had defeated Nar and ousted them from our land. The king of Liss wanted us to help him do the same.”

“Amazing,” said Richius. “But useless. Why would Tharn agree to help Liss? There’s nothing to be gained by it.”

“Oh, you are wrong, Richius. Because that is not everything
the letter said. The king of Liss also had some interesting news for Tharn. The letter stated that Nar was planning another invasion of Lucel-Lor, that it would happen as soon as Liss fell. Sailors from Nar’s navy were telling every Lissen they captured about how they were going back to Lucel-Lor once Liss was destroyed.” Lucyler leaned closer. “They said Aramoor was already committed to the invasion. Is it, Richius? Is Nar planning another invasion of Lucel-Lor?”

Richius drew an unsteady breath, unsure how to answer. He looked at Lucyler, at the worry in his expression, and quickly made a decision.

“It’s true. I heard about it months ago, when I was in Nar. Arkus wants to go back, and this time he’s serious. He intends for me to lead the invasion out of Aramoor.”

Lucyler sat back, stunned at the admission. “And you agreed?”

“I did. For one thing I don’t share your cheerful opinion of Tharn. To me he is a butcher, and I would still be pleased to skin him alive. Remember, Lucyler, my friends and father are dead because of him. I even thought he’d killed you. And it also was a chance to go back and find Dyana. That’s the real reason I agreed.”

Lucyler paled. “What do you mean, your father?” he asked. “Has your father died?”

“Don’t you know?” said Richius hotly. “He was killed, murdered by a Drol assassin before I got back home.”

“Oh, no,” said Lucyler. “Impossible.”

“What’s impossible? He’s dead, Lucyler!”

“I do not doubt that your father is dead, maybe even murdered. But there’s no way it was a Drol who killed him. I absolutely do not believe it.”

“
I
believe it,” said Richius. “I’ve been king of Aramoor ever since. Didn’t you know that?”

“Richius, we hear almost nothing from the Empire in Lucel-Lor. This agent from Liss was the first outsider to reach Triin soil since the last of the Empire’s soldiers left. But I tell you again—your father was not killed by a Drol.”

“Believe that if you want,” said Richius. “I don’t really care. But I still don’t understand what Tharn wants from me. Influence, you say? To do what?”

“To end the war. Tharn hopes you will go back to Nar and convince the emperor not to invade. And you are king now. Even better. Maybe he will listen to you.”

The idea was so preposterous Richius laughed. “Are you serious? Why under heaven would I want to do anything for Tharn?”

“Because it is the right thing to do. Lucel-Lor is at peace now. We want no more war. And I do not think you do, either.”

Richius stopped laughing at once. “You’re right about that. But influence? Ridiculous. My father didn’t have any, you know that. I probably have even less.”

“But you must try,” urged Lucyler. “Tell the emperor he cannot win. Tell him about what Tharn can do to his soldiers.…”

“I’ve told him all that already, Lucyler. He won’t listen to me. Besides, I wouldn’t do it if I could. Maybe Tharn’s cast some spell over you, maybe you think he’s some great man now, but there was a time when you hated him as much as I do. I wouldn’t do a thing to help him or his regime.”

“You would let more of your countrymen die, then? You would fight another war for your emperor?”

“Against Tharn? Yes, I would. I welcomed the challenge to destroy him, just as I welcomed the chance to get Dyana back. He knows about us, doesn’t he? That’s why he sent you here to talk to me. He knows I would listen if it meant saving Dyana.”

“He knows,” admitted Lucyler. “But he also thought you would listen to me. Why will you not believe me, Richius?”

“If he wanted my help he should have sent Dyana with you,” said Richius. “That would have done a lot to convince me.”

Lucyler looked down thoughtfully at the ground. “It is a long trip, and he thought I could convince you myself. Perhaps it is better this way, though.” He turned back to Richius. “Will you not let yourself be convinced, my friend? If you saw Lucel-Lor now, I am sure you would believe me. If I could show you that it is not worth another war, would you speak to your emperor then?”

“Will Tharn release Dyana if I go back to Falindar with you, Lucyler? The truth now. Will she be free to return with me?”

“I cannot say,” said Lucyler sullenly. “She is his wife. I don’t know how fond he is of her or what his true intentions are. But I can say this—you will be convinced when you meet him that
Tharn is a good man. You will see the peace he has brought to Lucel-Lor, and you will believe.”

“I want Dyana, that’s all. If he gives me her, I will speak to Arkus for him. But let me be honest with you now, Lucyler. Tharn is wrong to think me so influential. There’s no way I can stop Arkus from launching his invasion. Even if he thinks me uncommitted, he will come, with or without me.”

“But Tharn’s power—”

“Tharn’s power is what Arkus is after,” said Richius. “He’s heard all about it, and he’s convinced now that all of Lucel-Lor has magic like that. That’s what the war was all about. It’s what he always wanted from Lucel-Lor. He’s dying, and he thinks Triin magic can save him. And he doesn’t care how many other people have to die to get it. So you’d best prepare for war, Lucyler, because it’s coming just as soon as Liss falls.”

Lucyler grimaced. “Then we have a great problem. Tharn will not use his powers against the Empire. If your troops come, we will have to fight them without his help.”

“Really?” asked Richius. “Are his powers gone?”

“No. But he will never use them again. He has vowed it.”

“But why?”

Lucyler gave him a furtive look. “It is best not to speak of it now. You will understand when you meet him.” The Triin rose and stretched his long, lithe body. “In the morning we will leave for Falindar. I have already told Tharn you could not help us, but he thinks he can convince you. You will see Dyana when we arrive.”

“I don’t want to just see her,” warned Richius. “I’m taking her back with me. If he wants me to talk peace with Arkus, he’ll have to release her. He understands that, doesn’t he?”

Lucyler turned away, staring out into the blackness. “Tharn is very wise,” he said softly. “No doubt he expects your demand.”

C
ount Renato Biagio stared serenely out the small window at the perfect spring day lighting the courtyard of Aramoor Castle. It had always been a passion of his to come up north when it was seasonable; these lands were such a pretty part of the Empire. There were species of trees here that grew nowhere else in Nar, and lovely flowers and animals, too. In the springtime, Aramoor was sublime. He would have to come here more often, he decided, and stop spending so much time in Talistan. But the Gayles were gracious to him, and allowed him to keep a close eye on Aramoor, closer than he ever could across the continent in the capital. Aramoor was very important to Arkus. Biagio hoped Jojustin’s summons didn’t mean a problem.

Popping another grape into his mouth, the count leaned back in his chair and watched the nervous serving girl fiddle with a plate of neatly arranged canapés. She was attractive. He liked the way she arranged her auburn hair, wearing it long in a braided tail. Women in Crote did the same, and whenever he saw a northerner’s hair like that it always made his lips twitch.

Because he was Crotan, he appreciated art and the form of a perfect human body. Jenna was not perfect, not like the sculptures in his villa back home, but she was neat and attractive and had the quiet qualities the count appreciated in his lovers, whether man or woman. She trembled a little under his gaze.

“Jenna?” he asked casually, propping his booted feet on the table. “Could you get me some more wine, please? I don’t seem to be able to reach the bottle.”

He watched with amusement as the girl hurriedly took the bottle from the table and poured him another glass, quaking under the glare of the pair of bodyguards behind him. The glass had nearly overflowed before he had to put up his hand.

“Oops! Take it easy now,” he warned. “This is an expensive cape. You wouldn’t want to weave me a new one, would you?”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” stammered the girl. He loved the way
her eyes shifted to the doorway, waiting for someone, anyone, to save her. Unfortunately, she had been the one unlucky enough to greet him in the courtyard, and at his request had stayed with him while Jojustin readied himself. It was an inconvenience he found particularly appealing. Waiting wasn’t something he was good at, but it was bearable when he had an attractive woman attending him. And this was an unusual visit for him. He wasn’t accustomed to being summoned to anyone’s home, and the novelty of the invitation intrigued him. Jojustin’s letter had reached him in Talistan only yesterday, but it sounded urgent enough for him to come at once.
Matters of grave importance
, the note had said. The count pushed a grape seed through his teeth and spat it into his palm. They had better be.

“Will I be seeing Richius?” he asked the girl. He hadn’t seen the young Vantran since Nar, nor had he received any word from him. The boyish king was supposed to be waiting here, readying Aramoor for the coming invasion. He had thought Richius remarkably patient—until today. “I didn’t see him on my way through the castle. Has he been told I am here?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” replied Jenna weakly.

What a terrible liar you are
, thought Biagio. Still, he would get his answer from the old man. No doubt Jojustin’s dire note had something to do with the king’s conspicuous absence. Biagio sucked the juice from another grape. Behind him his entourage of Shadow Angels stood like black statues, dutifully watching the window and the doorway for any misguided assassin. They watched Jenna, too, with the hungry eyes of lonely men. Biagio made a mental note that it had been a long time since his bodyguards had been with women. He would have to remedy that soon. Perhaps a Talistanian brothel would be a necessary stop before making the trip home.

At last the door opened again and Jojustin stepped inside. Jenna loosed an audible sigh. Biagio noticed the old man’s sickly pallor and the nervous way his temples throbbed. He was typically well dressed. His gold-button vest clung to his thin waist and his impeccably polished shoes glimmered. But still there was that look about him, that deliciously frightened aura that convicts have before the trapdoor swings open. Biagio pushed his wineglass away and rose from his chair as Jenna scampered from the chamber. Jojustin closed the door behind her.

“Count Biagio,” he began unsteadily. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”