The Merchant Emperor (63 page)

Gwydion slid the first complex key into the smallest of the seven keyholes, springing each mechanism until he finally inserted the largest of the blades into the massive lock at the bottom. The bolt snapped back, and the door opened slightly. He stepped hurriedly back and out of the way, leaving the Bolg king clear in the middle of the doorway.

Achmed swung the door open.

Within the cell, the lanternlight fell on the auburn hair of the prisoner, making it gleam red-brown for a moment. Then the man, who was sitting in a chair facing the wall at the back of the cell, stood and turned around.

It was Tristan Steward.

The Lord Roland’s mouth dropped open, then relief flooded his face.

“Achmed,” he said weakly. “Thank the All-God. You’ve come for me!”

The Bolg king stared at him for a moment.

He exhaled and rolled his eyes.

Then he turned like lightning to the guard standing to the right of the door. He seized the man’s crossbow, swung it around until it pointed toward the back of the cell.

And fired a bolt into the prince’s forehead.

Tristan Steward’s eyes sprang open wide just as the missile bisected his brow.

Without another sound he fell back against the wall with a sickening
crack
, then forward onto his face, the impact of the fall driving the bolt further into his brain.

A ragged gasp tore forth from the throats of all three of the other men in the hallway.

“I guess I have at that,” Achmed said. “Convenient timing.”

It took the span of seventy heartbeats for Gwydion Navarne to recover his voice as the Lord Roland and prince of Bethany quietly bled his life out onto the floor of the stockade cell. The young duke’s face was pale as moonlight, and he struggled to keep his hands steady.

“He—
Tristan
was a thrall? You’re certain? Sweet All-God.”

Achmed handed the crossbow back to the shaking guard.

“I’m certain,” he said.
Certain that it was well past time, whether or not he was a thrall,
he thought in disgust.
Cymrian.
“Lock the door and leave the body there for a few days, just to be sure there is no lingering demonic spirit that might be a problem for anyone else.”

The guards and the young duke exchanged a wide-eyed glance.

“Let’s get back to the main building,” the Bolg king said, turning and walking up the stairs. “Perhaps we can bring the file to the dining table so that I can begin reading while I’m eating; I’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Gwydion Navarne quickly closed and locked the door, then followed him up the stairs, wishing even harder than he usually did for his godfather’s speedy return.

The Symphony of Ages Books by Elizabeth Haydon

Rhapsody: Child of Blood

Prophecy: Child of Earth

Destiny: Child of the Sky

Requiem for the Sun

Elegy for a Lost Star

The Assassin King

The Merchant Emperor

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

An accomplished herbalist, harpist, and madrigal singer, E
LIZABETH
H
AYDON
also enjoys anthropology and folklore. She lives on the East Coast.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

THE MERCHANT EMPEROR

Copyright © 2014 by Elizabeth Haydon

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Stephen Youll

Maps and ornaments by Ed Gazsi

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The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-0-7653-0566-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4299-4397-0 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781429943970

First Edition: June 2014

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