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Authors: Deby Fredericks

Too Many Princes (65 page)

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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Dietrick advanced down the steps, drawing his sword as he came. Reluctantly, Lottres raised his own weapon in response. From the moment they left their prison cells, this fight had been inevitable. Still, he wished it didn't have to happen.


I don't want to fight you,

Lottres said. He eased back, eyeing the archers on one side and Dietrick on the other. Ymell and Shaelen were striding across the courtyard, but they were probably too far off to help.


I see you have discovered the rats in our cellar,

Dietrick answered.

These vermin have infested Carthell for too long. I'm in your debt for destroying them.

Dietrick spoke almost cheerfully, and he wasn't even looking at Lottres. His gaze was fixed on the fallen Silletsian. The
eppagadrocca
stopped struggling as Dietrick approached. Lottres could see no sign of Shaelen's energy arrow, save for a small hole in his tunic and a dark blot soaking through the fabric.


Get away from me,

the
eppagadrocca
panted with shrill panic.

I have the Duke's favor! If you touch me, your father will...

He suddenly fell silent. The point of Dietrick's sword was at his throat.


I think not.

Dietrick's voice was thick. Lottres felt his mind boiling with frustration.

For months, I have been forced to endure your blight upon Carthell. You offered my father victory, but you have only led him to dishonor. Perhaps to his death. I have had to stand by, watching, but now

.

Dietrick drew back his sword.


No!

shrieked the Silletsian.


My lord!

Ymell called.

A moment, if you please.

Dietrick's shoulders trembled with the effort of restraining himself.

A moment only.


Please allow me to handle this,

Ymell said as he reached Lottres's side.

You must not bloody your sword, Lord Dietrick.


Even if I wish to?

Dietrick smiled, showing his teeth.


I can guess how this has troubled you,

Ymell answered.

You, a man of honor, have been forced to cooperate with scoundrels. When you objected, your father sent you to command the walls rather than heeding your counsel. Is this not true?

Ymell's words were soothing, all reason. He didn't use magic to compel Dietrick's obedience. As far as Lottres could tell, Ymell relied on logic alone. Dietrick nodded with an angry jerk, reluctant to concede the argument.


Do not judge the duke too harshly,

Ymell said.

The sorcerers of Sillets can entice a man to their way of thinking, even against his own will.


That wouldn't take any great persuasion,

Dietrick snapped back.

The duke's ambitions are well known here.


Now we come, upsetting the apple cart.

Ymell spread his hands with wry humor.

This is, indeed, a chance to reverse your father's unwise policies, but your sword must be clean, my lord, lest your motives be placed in doubt.


Then what do you suggest?

Dietrick demanded.

As long as these sorcerers live, my father is bound to them. Only when they die can he see past their lies.


You need not strike the blow yourself,

Ymell reasoned.

If you permit me, I can assure that he dies quickly and painlessly, with no blame upon you.


A painless death is more than he deserves,

Dietrick said, but the moment of crisis had passed. Dietrick's sword point sagged toward the cobblestones. He would no longer strike in the heat of rage.

Then, from behind him, Lottres felt a surge of power—Shaelen's power. The
eppagadrocca
gave a choked cry and lay still, a pool of darker red spreading around him. Dietrick watched dispassionately, as if the man were no more than a rat caught in the storerooms of the keep.

Lottres couldn't help wincing, though he knew the man would gladly have killed him if their places had been reversed. If Ymell disapproved of Shaelen's deed, he gave no sign.


It seems the question has been settled,

Ymell observed.

Perhaps this is for the best.

Dietrick slid his sword into its sheath with an irritated motion. This may have been a signal, for the soldiers on the walls relaxed. The archers unstrung their bows and began to file back into the tower.


All that remains,

Dietrick said,

is to decide what to do about the three of you.


We were just on our way to speak to the duke,

Ymell answered mildly, yet with a hint of steel.

There are matters we have to discuss. Will you escort us? I'm sure he would feel safer.


No doubt,

Dietrick said, but he made no move to lead them anywhere.

One of you is absent. Your daughter was with you earlier, I believe. Did she remain in her chamber, while the rest of you stepped out for this adventure?


Not at all,

Ymell replied.

Yriatt has gone to hunt the other rats beyond these walls. Fear not—my daughter is very discreet.


Ah, that explains it,

Lottres thought. While Ymell stayed in the keep, attracting attention to himself, Yriatt had gone to find the last
eppagadrocca.


In good time,

Dietrick said,

I would like an accounting of those rats. For the moment, I will do as you ask. Please come with me.

Dietrick strode off, stiff-legged. Lottres waited until Ymell had passed, and fell in beside Shaelen. As they climbed the steps toward the massive gate, some of Dietrick's guardsmen emerged. At his curt motion, half of them continued into the courtyard. Glancing back, Lottres saw them preparing to remove the bodies from public view. The remaining soldiers fell in around Dietrick and Ymell.

Dietrick led them upward, into the heart of the keep, and this time Lottres watched carefully where they were going. Soon they approached a pair of big wooden doors, carved with figures of sailing vessels. The two guards there looked askance at Ymell, but they saluted Dietrick and allowed him to pass.

The room beyond was a large council chamber. Ruddy sunset light flowed in at a broad window. Beyond the glass lay a stunning landscape of mountains and water. Nearer at hand, a group of men were gathered around something on the council table. Lottres immediately recognized Duke Johanz and Albrett.


Father,

Dietrick said.

May I speak with you?


What was all that noise?

Johanz demanded, looking up. When he saw Ymell, he closed his mouth with a snap. Albrett, at the duke's elbow, stood straighter. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Lottres.


I'm afraid that is my fault,

Ymell said in a self-deprecating tone.

I must speak with your grace on an urgent matter. In my impatience, I left my chambers and was waylaid by those whom I know as my enemies.

Johanz put on an expression of concern.

As I feared. I cannot guarantee your safety, Lord Ymell, if you won't accept my protection.


There is no need for any concern,

Ymell answered with a stern gleam in his eye now.

The
eppagadrocca
will trouble you no longer.

Johanz couldn't quite hide his scowl at this news, but he turned his anger on Dietrick.


And what do you say to this?

Johanz demanded.

Are chance travelers permitted to assault my invited guests?


How was I to stop them, Father?

Dietrick asked. His voice was strained and posture stiff.

The noises you heard were cyclones from the heavens and lightning they summoned to their hands. We are mere archers and swordsmen.


If these guests couldn't defend themselves,

Shaelen said quietly,

perhaps they were never as powerful as they claimed.

As one, the Carthellans bristled at her words.


Please,

Ymell interposed.

I have little time for nonsense, your grace, so I will speak plainly. My companion


Ymell nodded to Lottres, who was suddenly aware of sharp eyes on himself


has reminded me that you are a man of experience and not a callow fool. Therefore I will not insult you by suggesting you do not know who your guests were and what their purpose was. Nor will I bother to warn you that the Emperor of Sillets is a practiced deceiver. That many others before you have sat down at his table, only to find themselves and their lands as the main remove.

Johanz sat calmly enough, though his hands, folded on the table, showed his anger in their white-fingered grip. On closer viewing, Lottres saw his face was seamed with fine lines of age. Ymell, who must be far the elder, appeared youthful in contrast.


Then what are you here for?

Albrett demanded. His fleshy face was red with anger.


Merely to advise,

Ymell replied. He didn't deign to look upon Albrett, but focused his mild regard on Johanz.

Those who were sent to foment rebellion are gone. No longer do they control you, or spy on you. If you choose, you may now reconsider this perilous alliance.


Why should we wish to do that?

Johanz countered.

We who were once free...


Your bond with Crutham may be irksome,

Ymell interrupted,

but the yoke of slavery to Sillets would be far worse, I promise. For this moment only, Carthell is free. Whether it remains so is your decision.

BOOK: Too Many Princes
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