The Saints of the Sword (58 page)

“Really? Now that would be a refreshing change. I get so tired of inquisitions.”

Redburn handed Biagio a cup and sat in a chair beside him. “My distrust of the Black City is no secret,” he said. “Not here, and not where you come from. I should think you already knew that, assuming you are who you claim.”

“If you didn’t believe me, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”

Redburn took a sip of tea. “Try it.”

Biagio sampled the tea and found it exquisite. “You are right,” he said, feigning surprise. “It’s excellent. But I’m right also, aren’t I, Prince Redburn? You know who I am.”

“My father once told me about Renato Biagio. He said that Biagio had skin like the sun and hair like gold.”

“My, how flattering.”

“He also said that Biagio had eyes like sapphires.” The prince took another sip of tea. “So? What happened to your eyes?”

“It is a very long story. And rather personal.”

“Indeed? Well, this is my home, Emperor. This is my personal castle, and I’m granting you my personal time. While you are here, you are no god. I rule the Eastern Highlands—alone. Is that clear?”

“As a bell,” said Biagio.

“Good. Now I want some answers. And I don’t want them couched in riddles. I’m guessing that so-called Highlander you arrived with is a Roshann spy. I don’t like spies. I’ve had my fill of them lately, and frankly I’m losing my patience.”

“I don’t take well to threats, Redburn,” warned Biagio.

“Really? Well I don’t give a damn. We’ve done remarkably well here in the Highlands without Naren interference. We have peace, and the only thing you can possibly

be bringing is bad news.” The young man glared at Biagio. “How’s that for analysis?”

Biagio grinned. “I should find you work in the Roshann.”

Prince Redburn placed his teacup on a nearby table. “You’ve come to bring me trouble, Biagio. We have never had a visit from the emperor. Not even Arkus, long as he lived, ever came to the Highlands. I am wondering why you are here.”

“Let me try one last time to analyze you, Prince Redburn,” said Biagio. “You’re a very young man. I should say you’re not even thirty yet, am I right?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Quite young. So ruling the Highlands is difficult for you. You know what I see when I look around this room? I see a toy collection. You’re still your father’s little boy, Redburn. And you have big shoes to fill, don’t you? All those sisters and brothers, looking up to you, wanting your guidance. So what do you do when the pressures of governing get to you? You come in here and make yourself a cup of tea.”

Prince Redburn got up from the chair slowly and walked over to his prize tea machine. He put a hand to the warm metal.

“You have problems, Redburn,” said Biagio. “With Talistan.”

Redburn looked up. “What do you know about that?”

“They’ve been harassing your borders. Maybe they’ve been sending spies across the river, hmm? It’s going to get worse.”

“You came all this way to tell me that? Brilliant deduction, Lord Emperor.”

“There’s more.” Biagio rose and went to the young man. “You’re a pawn, Prince Redburn. You’re being used in a gigantic game. Do you realize that?”

When Redburn hesitated, Biagio said, “No, I can see you don’t. That’s why I’m here. To explain it to you.”

He went back to the table, taking up both teacups and arranging them about a foot apart. “This,” he said, tapping
the first cup, “is Talistan.” Then he touched the second cup. “And this is the Black City. You see all this area between them? What do you think that is?”

“The Highlands?”

“More precisely,
your
Highlands. How would you get to the Black City from Talistan? Other than by ship, I mean.”

“There’s only one way. Through my territory.”

“Well? Any bells going off in your head, Prince Redburn?”

“Just one, but I don’t believe it. You’re saying that Talistan wants to invade the capital?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

The prince seemed astonished. “That’s impossible.”

“Perhaps you’ve lived too sheltered a life, after all,” said Biagio. “Let me explain the way things are.”

So Biagio explained. For nearly an hour he discussed the intricacies of Naren politics. Biagio told the prince about Talistan, and how Tassis Gayle had many allies. And he told him about the Black City, and how it was fractured. Killing so many Naren lords had come back to haunt Biagio, and their ghosts were everywhere these days. And while Redburn admitted that he had heard about Biagio’s weaknesses, the emperor remained astonished at how little the prince actually knew. Obviously, the hills of the Highlands had isolated him. But when Biagio told him why Talistan was harassing him—because they needed a political excuse to invade—Redburn had no trouble grasping the concept.

“It makes sense,” he concluded. “We’ve done nothing to Gayle to warrant his hatred. We lived in relative peace for years.”

“Under Arkus,” Biagio corrected.

“True. When you took the throne, things changed. We never really got along with Talistan, but we used to trade and travel freely between our countries. But no more.”

“Things are bad throughout Nar,” Biagio admitted.

Redburn got out of his chair. “Thank you for the history lesson, Lord Emperor, but you still haven’t yet told me why you’re here.”

Biagio smiled. “Yes, I did leave that part out, didn’t I?” Casually he rose and went to the tea machine, filling his cup again and contemplatively sipping the hot drink. Redburn was staring at him, grinning wryly. Biagio decided he liked the young man. He wasn’t the savage many claimed, though there was a streak of wildness. At last, Biagio set down his cup and said, “Prince Redburn, I need your help. You already know the danger you’re in from Talistan. And you know that I am in peril myself. But what you don’t know is that the whole Empire is in danger. If Talistan attacks the capital, there will be war in Nar the likes of which you can’t imagine. Vosk will side with Talistan. Dahaar will side with me. Criisia will side with me, too, but others might join Gayle. There will be wide-scale war. World war, you might say. That’s why I’ve come to you. You and I must stop it from happening.”

“Me?”

“You’re the last link in a very long chain, Redburn. I’ve pulled a lot of strings to get this far, set a lot of wheels in motion. Everything is riding on this moment. Somehow, I have to convince you to join me.”

Redburn was clearly confused. “You’re not making sense, Lord Emperor. Join you in what?”

“In a strike against Talistan.”

The words lingered in the air. Redburn absorbed them slowly, then said, “Are you serious? You want the Highlands to attack Talistan? But isn’t that exactly what Gayle wants?”

“Indeed, but we shall have a surprise for him,” said Biagio. “It won’t be just your Highlanders attacking Talistan. You and your troops will be part of a carefully staged invasion.” He went back to the table and used Redburn’s teacups again. “This is Talistan, see? With the Highlands to the west, a strike would leave Gayle with nowhere to go …” He put a finger down on the table. “… except toward Lucel-Lor. I’ve made arrangements with some friends of mine. The Triin will be joining us. On the first day of summer, an army of Triin lion riders led by Richius Vantran will attack Aramoor, occupying Gayle’s forces on the eastern front. There will also be a sea
bombardment from a Naren dreadnought, hammering the coast. Now, if your men—”

“Whoa,” cried Redburn, throwing up his hands. “Triin lions? Richius Vantran? You must be out of your mind!”

“I know it sounds unbelievable, but this is all part of a great coalition. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through to get this far, Redburn. I swear to you, I am not lying.”

“Oh, but you’re the master of lies, Biagio. My father told me things about you. And one thing he taught me was that you’re not to be trusted. Even here in the hills we learned about the iron circle.”

“There isn’t time for this, Redburn. I need your help. All of Nar needs you. Look out your window for once! Can’t you see what’s happening to the Empire? It’s a powder keg, and all Tassis Gayle has to do is light the fuse!” He fell back, tumbling miserably into his chair. “Don’t send me away empty-handed. I beg you.”

“You ask the impossible of me. Maybe I don’t know much about Nar, but you don’t seem to know much about the Highlands. We’re not strong enough to fight Talistan.”

“Haven’t you been listening? You won’t be alone. There are—”

“I’ve heard you. It’s you who isn’t listening. Because even if we could fight Talistan, it would still be a slaughter. Hundreds of my people would be killed. Maybe more.” He looked down at Biagio with pity. “I had heard you were mad. Now I’m inclined to believe that. It’s madness to invade Talistan. I won’t give that order. Not ever.”

“But the Empire …”

“Your Empire, Biagio,” said Redburn. “Not mine.”

In that moment, all the world seemed to fall upon Biagio’s shoulders. “You have no idea what I’ve been through to reach you, Redburn. But it all means nothing unless you join me. The Triin can’t win without your help, and I don’t have an army of my own.” He sighed, cursing himself. “What a fool I’ve been, thinking you could understand.”

“Do not patronize me,” said Redburn. “I do understand.”

“You don’t,” flared Biagio. “How could you? You’re a boy playing a prince. If you had any intelligence at all, you would see how important this is!”

Redburn’s face purpled. “The Highlands are
mine
. We don’t dance to your tune here, Biagio. And—”

A sudden knock at the door interrupted him. He whirled to see a young woman in the threshold.

“Redburn?” asked the woman. Her eyes darted to Biagio, where they lingered with surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Breena,” said Redburn, “did you just get back?”

“Yes,” said the woman, but she didn’t address the prince directly as she spoke. Instead she kept her eyes on Biagio. “Mingo said you had a visitor.” She drifted toward Biagio, who stood at once to greet her.

“Lady? You are the prince’s relation?”

“This is Breena,” said Redburn. “My twin sister.”

The resemblance was uncanny. Not only did the lady share her brother’s brilliant hair, but she had his skin tone as well, a marvelously delicate white, like the petal of a flower. Two green eyes shone from her face, and her lips curled in a careful smile.

“Emperor Biagio?” she asked uncertainly.

“That is I.” Biagio took her hand and kissed it. “I am pleased to meet you, Lady Breena.”

Breena blushed, but only for a moment. Quickly she turned to her brother. “So? What is the matter?”

“The matter,” said Biagio, “is your brother.” He scowled at Redburn. “I stand by what I said, Redburn. You are a fool. Talistan will not let you off so easily. If you do not attack them, then they will attack you. And they will butcher you, I promise.”

“Enough,” said the prince. “Not in front of my sister.”

“Redburn,” said Breena. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Your brother and I are discussing the fate of the world, Lady Breena,” said Biagio. “And I’m not leaving until I get the answer I need.”

Breena looked puzzled. Redburn, who was now thoroughly incensed, went to the door and held it open.

“Please go, Emperor,” he snapped. “Rest and take your
ease, but speak no more of this. I warn you—I will not tolerate your talk of war.”

Biagio went to the doorway. “I accept your hospitality,” he said. “But do not disappoint me, Redburn. Don’t make a waste of all my efforts.”

“Go!”

Forcing a smile, Biagio left the room. He waited until Redburn slammed the door behind him, then stormed down the stone corridor, letting out a string of curses.

Biagio spent the rest of the day asleep in the chamber Mingo had provided. Redburn’s servant had lost his earlier insolence, and was perfectly polite as he showed the emperor to his room, a spacious chamber on the second floor of the castle with a bed trimmed with white ruffles and an excellent view of the bucolic grounds. But Biagio wasted no time with the view. His head ached from arguing with the prince and his backside burned with saddle sores. He was half asleep before Mingo shut the door.

When he awoke again it was dark. A faint afterglow in the west told him it was just past dusk. Biagio roused himself, confused for a moment before realizing he was still in Elkhorn Castle. The last few weeks had passed in a blur, and he had seldom awakened in the same place twice. As he surveyed his surroundings, he realized he was hungry. Usually, back in the Black Palace, there was breakfast waiting by his bedside when he awoke. But Redburn’s servants had provided only a wash basin and an unlit lantern. He got out of bed, splashed water on his face, then checked himself in the mirror. A dreary apparition stared back. His skin was sallow and his eyes sunken. His silken mane of hair hung like dead grass.

“Lord, look at me …”

But he couldn’t look. Without the drug to keep him vital, age was creeping up on him. He turned away from the mirror, banishing the image, then searched for a comb. Surprisingly, he found one in the dresser beside his bed. Like a nervous bride he began working his long hair in
careful strokes. For ten minutes he combed, until a soft rapping at the door stopped him.

“Yes?” he answered. “Who is it?”

The door crept open slowly, revealing a striking young woman. In her hand was a tray of food and steaming tea. Biagio rose from the bedside.

“Lady Breena,” he said. He gave her his best smile. “This is a surprise.”

Breena stepped quietly into the room. Biagio guessed she wanted no one to see her, and her furtiveness intrigued him.

“You’ve been resting quite a while,” she said. “I thought you might be getting hungry. If I’m interrupting you—”

“Not at all,” said Biagio. He took the tray and looked over its contents. “Ah, it’s splendid. You’ve read my mind, Lady Breena. I am famished.”

“You look it,” she remarked.

Biagio went to the bedside and set the tray on his lap. He didn’t ask who had baked the fresh bread, or why Breena had brought the food herself. Instead he merely tore off a great hunk. A crock of butter had been included. Biagio used a knife to smear it over the bread.