The Saints of the Sword (32 page)

“Why?” asked Jahl. “What’s in Lucel-Lor?”

Alazrian hesitated. “Richius Vantran.”

“Vantran?” Rob sprang to his feet. “Why? What’s in your note?”

“Remember, you’re a priest. You made an oath to me.”

“I won’t break my oath. But you must tell me why you
need to find Vantran.” Jahl Rob stared at Alazrian demandingly. “What’s in your note?”

“Please,” begged Alazrian. “I’m telling you all I can.”

“It’s not enough, boy! You coerced me into my oath. And I will honor it. I’ll let you go on your way, but you must tell me why. Richius Vantran was my king. None of us would be here now if it wasn’t for him. He abandoned us, Alazrian. If you have some business with him, I deserve to know what it is.”

“I know,” said Alazrian. “But it’s all so complicated. I really don’t know how much to tell you, or even if I can trust you. I want to, really. But …”

Jahl Rob smiled, the first real smile he had offered. “You’re a man of mysteries, young Leth. Very well. Your business with Vantran is yours. But I should warn you—there are no Triin in these mountains. At least none that I’ve ever seen. As for Vantran, we’ve never heard anything more about him, not for a very long time. He might even be dead.”

Alazrian swallowed. In a day filled with bad news, this was the worst yet. “No Triin? None?”

The priest shook his head.

“And Vantran? No word from him at all? Not even a rumor?”

“I’m sorry, boy. But you need to know these things before you go any farther. This quest of yours, whatever it is, might just be a folly. It’s a long way to Lucel-Lor. Without Triin to guide you, you might not make it. Vantran might not even be there waiting for you.”

Alazrian slumped back down to the ground, staring blindly at the fire. It had all been for nothing; his quest, Biagio’s note, everything. It was all a worthless cause. Now he was an outcast with nowhere to go. Instinctively he reached into his shirt and felt around for Biagio’s letter. It was still there, waiting to be delivered. He pulled it out, laughing mirthlessly as he looked at it.

“What’s that?” asked Rob. He studied it curiously in the firelight. “Is that your note?”

Alazrian nodded. “Yes. For all the good it will do me now. I can’t even deliver it.”

“It’s for Vantran, you say? Do you know what’s in it?”

“Mostly,” replied Alazrian. “I don’t know everything.” The thought of throwing the letter onto the fire occurred to him, but Biagio wouldn’t want him to give up so easily. “What do I do? No Triin …”

Jahl Rob sat down next to him. It was eerily quiet, and for a long moment neither of them spoke, content to listen to the snapping fire. Rob poked at the logs with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks, but Alazrian could tell that the priest was stalling, giving him time to think. Suddenly Jahl Rob didn’t seem so threatening.

“Jahl Rob?” Alazrian said softly.

“Yes?”

“I know you want me to tell you everything. But it’s dangerous. This letter is supposed to be a secret. Even I’m not allowed to read it.”

Jahl Rob nodded. “I understand.”

“I want to tell you, but I can’t,” Alazrian went on. “I gave my word that I would deliver this message to Richius Vantran, and that I would only speak to the Triin I found in the mountains.”

“Look around, Alazrian. Do you see many Triin?”

“No. But I’m not sure that changes my promise.”

Jahl Rob regarded him. “It changes everything, boy. You can’t fulfill your promise because what you promised is impossible. I think you should trust me. I’m the only person who can help you.”

“Help me?” Alazrian sat up. “Why would you do that?”

“I have my own reasons for wanting to find Vantran. If he’s alive, I want to know about it.”

It was the last thing Alazrian hoped to hear, and it magically removed all the barricades he’d erected around himself. If Jahl Rob would help him …

“It’s a letter asking Vantran to bring the Triin into a war,” he blurted. “I’m supposed to ask him to come back.” Alazrian held up the letter. “It’s all in here. Vantran is to convince his Triin friends to attack Elrad Leth and recapture Aramoor.”

Jahl Rob stared at Alazrian, then at the letter, then back at Alazrian.

“It’s the truth,” said Alazrian. “It’s all to stop a war that my grandfather is planning. Biagio thinks—”

“Biagio? What’s his business in this?” He snatched the envelope from Alazrian. “Did he write this letter?”

“Yes, but—”

Rob threw up his hands. “You’re being duped, boy! Can’t you see that? This is all some ploy to lure Vantran into a trap!”

“It isn’t!” Alazrian insisted. He grabbed the letter back. “I know the truth.”

“The truth? What does Biagio know about the truth? You can’t trust that monster!”

“You don’t understand. I was there, in the Black City. I spoke to Biagio. He gave me this letter himself.”

“So what? Don’t you think he can lie to your face? Seven hells, boy, wake up! Biagio destroyed my cathedral. You can’t trust a word he says. How can you believe—”

Alazrian reached out quickly and seized Jahl Rob’s hand, holding it firmly. The priest looked at him, alarmed.

“What …?”

Rob tried to pull away but Alazrian wouldn’t let him. It was time to prove himself to this arrogant priest.

“You’re Jahl Rob,” said Alazrian.

“You’re damn right I am. What’s—”

“Your mother’s name was Ginnifer,” Alazrian continued. He dug deep into Rob’s consciousness, fishing up everything he could find. “She urged you to become a priest. You loved her very much. She was the first person to take you to see the cathedral. But she died in the Black City. She was hit by a carriage, crossing an avenue.”

Jahl Rob stopped struggling. His eyes widened.

“You blamed yourself for her dying,” Alazrian went on, “because you nagged her to take you to the city. You just had to see that cathedral, didn’t you, Jahl Rob?”

“God in Heaven,” whispered Rob. Slowly he pulled back his hand. “What are you?”

Alazrian sat back. “I’m half Triin. My father was a bodyguard for a Triin merchant who visited Talistan. His name was Jakiras. What I just did to you was the same thing I
did to Biagio. I looked into his soul, and I know he wasn’t lying to me.”

Jahl Rob remained still. “That’s magic,” he said breathlessly. “You’re a sorcerer!”

“I am not. I just have a gift. And I don’t understand it myself. That’s why I agreed to go to Lucel-Lor for Biagio, so I could find out about my gift. That’s why I know Biagio told me the truth. My mission isn’t a ploy, and it isn’t folly either. The whole Empire is depending on me getting this letter to Richius Vantran. Now … Will you help me?”

Rob was looking down at his hand inspecting it for some residual magic. “My mother,” he said absently. “How did you know?”

“I can’t explain it. All I know is that it works, and that it never lies to me. Whatever I feel in a person is the truth, just like I found in Biagio.”

“Amazing.” Rob sat up straight. “You’re like Tharn, young Leth. He was magical, too.”

“That’s why I’m going to Lucel-Lor. I want to find out about him, and my real father if possible.”

“Tharn is dead. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” said Alazrian. “But there are still people in Lucel-Lor who knew him. Richius Vantran knew him. If I could meet the Jackal, maybe he could tell me about Tharn. And I would be able to deliver this letter.”

“You’d betray your own grandfather?”

“I’ve already thought about that,” said Alazrian. “But I have to do it. Biagio says my grandfather is planning to attack the Black City. He says he’s building up his forces. If that happens, every nation of Nar will take sides. The whole continent will be at war.”

Jahl nodded, trying to understand, but he was still preoccupied with the magic, and still glanced periodically at his hand, his eyes full of uncertainty.

“When I brought you here, I didn’t expect this,” he said. “My life has gotten much more complicated today.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alazrian. “I never meant to bother you. And you don’t have to help me, Jahl Rob, but I wish
you would. You need Vantran as much as I do. Eventually, Leth is going to send more soldiers to find you. If we can get Vantran to help us—”

“A lost cause,” argued Rob. “The Jackal betrayed Aramoor. He won’t come back.”

“Biagio thinks he will.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Because he thinks the Jackal wants his homeland back. It’s all in the letter. Biagio is offering Aramoor to Vantran, if Vantran agrees to bring the Triin into the fight.”

“What about Biagio? What’s he bringing to the fight?”

Alazrian frowned. “I’m not really sure. He wouldn’t tell me everything, just that he’s weak and can’t use the Naren legions anymore. They won’t follow him.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Biagio made a lot of enemies in his bid for the throne. But there must be more than that.” He eyed the letter curiously. “If he’s written it down, we should read it.”

“No,” said Alazrian. “I gave him my word and I won’t betray it. Besides, there is something else. Biagio hinted that he was looking for allies to help him. He said that defeating Talistan would be difficult, and that it would take more than just the Triin to do it.”

“That’s it? That’s all he told you? Who are these allies?”

“He wouldn’t say. But I do trust him, Jahl Rob. I know it’s hard for you to believe, but Biagio has changed. He wasn’t lying to me. Most importantly, I need to find Richius Vantran.” Alazrian reached out for the priest, but Rob pulled away.

“Don’t touch me, please,” said Rob. “Your magic frightens me.”

Wounded, Alazrian shrank back. “Will you help me? I can’t do this without you. You know these mountains better than anyone. And you’re one of Vantran’s people. If I do find him, maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Jahl Rob laughed. “That I very much doubt, young Leth. Vantran isn’t called the Jackal for nothing.”

Alazrian could feel Rob’s disappointment. It was tangible. “You hate him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” admitted the priest. He picked up another stick
and poked it into the fire, distracting himself. “Richius Vantran is to blame for Aramoor’s sorry state. If it wasn’t for him, Elrad Leth and Tassis Gayle would never have ruined us. I hate the Jackal more than any man alive. But I hate Biagio, too.” He laughed. “Funny, this alliance. Once the Saints were just a bunch of farmers. Now it looks like I’ve got a king and an emperor on my side.”

“You’ll help me, then?”

Jahl Rob nodded. “I may hate Vantran, but I love Aramoor.” He tossed the stick into the fire. “Yes, I’ll help you. And may God help us all.”

T
here she is,” said Queen Jelena. “Next to your
Sovereign
.”

Biagio looked out over the waves, squinting in the strong light bouncing off the sands. The sun beat down hard on the beach, burning the back of his neck. On the ocean he could see the Lissen schooners still surrounding the
Dread Sovereign
. Only now, two more ships had joined the flotilla.

“The big one?” Biagio asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” answered Jelena. “That’s my flagship. She’s called the
Nemesis
.”

“An apt name.”

“Yours is the other one,” Kasrin guessed. Jelena had summoned him to the beach as well. The captain grinned sarcastically at his emperor. “Not as grand as you’re used to, eh?”

“I should say not,” replied Biagio dryly.

Next to the queen’s brawny flagship floated a much smaller schooner, single-masted with dingy sails and an uninspiring profile. Sandwiched between the
Dread Sovereign
and the
Nemesis
, the vessel looked more like a rowboat than a warship. Biagio took a few steps toward the lapping surf, hoping to get a better look. She was small but she would do. He nodded, satisfied. “I didn’t ask for a pleasure barge. That ship will be fine. Thank you, Queen Jelena.”

Jelena was almost apologetic. “It’s the best we can spare. But she’s stronger than she looks, and I’ve picked a good crew for you. She’ll get you to the Eastern Highlands.”

“What’s her name?” asked Kasrin.

“The
Dra-Raike
. It’s an old Lissen word, a kind of sea ghost.” The girl turned to Biagio, half-smiling. “I thought the name suited the secrecy of your mission.”

“I appreciate the irony,” said Biagio. “Just as I appreciate the ship. Again, thank you.”

Jelena looked at him expectantly. Biagio gave a little laugh. Queen Jelena had been very patient with him, and he appreciated it. For almost a week she had endured his secretiveness, his unwanted presence on her island. But now she wanted her patience repaid. It was why she had summoned them.

“I am ready to talk,” Biagio declared. He looked around the empty beach. Surprisingly, Jelena had brought none of her guards along. She was starting to trust her strange guests, and that was a good sign.

Biagio sat down on the sand crossing his long legs under him. It was warm and salty-smelling, and he brushed his palm over it, picking up a scoop and pouring it from hand to hand. Jelena and Kasrin looked down at him curiously. Biagio urged them both down with a wave. “Sit. We’ll talk out here, where there are no ears.”

Kasrin glanced around in embarrassment. “No ears, maybe, but plenty of eyes.”

“Who cares who sees us?” said Biagio. He loved being back on Crote and resented having to leave it again. But Crote was part of Jelena’s spoils now. “Sit down, Kasrin. We have things to talk about.”

Jelena was the first to join Biagio on the sand. She sat in front of him, forgetting her expensive dress and not bothering to arrange her skirt in a lady-like fashion. She glanced up at Kasrin.

“Well?”

Kasrin frowned as he lowered himself to the ground. Biagio hadn’t seen much of the captain lately, but he could tell Kasrin had something on his mind. The way he looked at Jelena spoke volumes. But Kasrin was tight-lipped
about his feelings and had never once shared an intimate thought with Biagio. Biagio let him settle down, looking to see if anyone was watching. When he saw the Lissens staring at them from the mansion, Kasrin rolled his eyes.

“So?” he asked impatiently. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Lord Emperor.”