Warrior (48 page)

Getting through the first ring wasn’t that difficult. Word was still being spread through the city that their prince was home. This was the industrial centre of Krakandar and most of the people were still at work. No matter how much a man wanted to catch a glimpse of his prince, a large loom didn’t stop quickly, a forge had to be kept hot and one couldn’t just drop one’s tools to go sightseeing. Quite a few did, however, but it wasn’t a large crowd so Damin allowed himself the small hope that the rest of the city would react to his return in the same manner. He didn’t mind a few people lining the street to wave as he rode past. It was the chanting mobs that really got to him, and after the scare in Greenharbour with that plague-infected Denikan sailor, he knew how vulnerable he was to the most unlikely dangers.

His hope of an anonymous arrival lasted right up until they rode through the second portcullis and into the Beggars’ Quarter. The street was packed with people, the buildings decorated with blue bunting, which Damin fervently hoped hadn’t been put up for his arrival.

Almodavar saw the direction of his gaze and smiled. “It’s the Feast of Kaelarn, Damin,” the captain reminded him. “Your uncle has a street parade planned for later today.”

“He does?”

“I believe you are to be the centrepiece,” Almodavar informed him, and then almost as an afterthought, he added, “Along with your cousin, Lady Leila.”

Damin turned to Almodavar, all trace of his good humour drowned out by the news. “Please tell me you’re kidding, Captain.”

“I fear not, your highness.”

Damin swore softly. He’d been hoping Mahkas had forgotten all about his long-held dream of marrying his only daughter to Damin. “I’ll speak to Lord Damaran about it.”

“I’m sure Lady Leila would be most grateful for that,” Almodavar told him, confirming his suspicions that his cousin no more wanted to marry him than he wanted to marry her. She was already twenty-three, and Mahkas had reportedly knocked back countless offers for her hand, sending ever more insistent letters to Marla every few months, begging for the engagement to be made formal. It suited Marla to neither confirm nor deny the general belief that Damin would marry his cousin, however, so she did nothing to disabuse Mahkas of the notion.

There was little chance to talk after that, as they pushed their way through the city. Almodavar fell back, letting Damin take the lead behind the outriders carrying the Krakenshield and Wolfblade banners. The prince waved to the people as he passed, astonished at how many of them seemed genuinely pleased to have him home. He wondered, sometimes, how they all knew who he was. He hadn’t even been to Krakandar for four years. He could be anybody, yet they were clapping and cheering his passing, as if they were all close, personal friends.

And then he spied a familiar face in the crowd to his right, the face of a man who really was a close, personal friend. With a delighted shout, he brought the entire entourage to a stop as the young man stepped out of the crush of people and onto the street. One of the guards attempted to stop him, until he saw who it was, and then stepped his horse back to let him pass.

“Starros!”

“Gods, they let just anybody ride through those gates these days,” his foster-brother said with a grin, catching hold of Damin’s bridle. His mount was jittery, with the crowd pressing in on them, and Starros probably didn’t fancy being trampled. He waved to Kalan with a smile. “Welcome home, Kalan.”

“Did you come all this way to meet us?”

“Of course not! I happened to be in the neighbourhood, that’s all. Which reminds me. Can you do me a quick favour?”

“Anything!”

Starros turned and beckoned to someone in the crowd. A moment later, two working
court’esa
stepped onto the street and pushed past the guards to huddle close to Starros.

“Your highness, this is Fyora. Do you remember her from the Pickpocket’s Retreat?”

“How could I ever forget,” Damin replied gallantly, with a low bow in the saddle. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to reward you with a peerage for not ratting on us that day, my lady. You saved me from a great many more laps of the training yard than you will ever know.”

He reached down and took her hand, kissing her palm in the traditional manner. Fee was too overwhelmed to speak and looked ready to faint with happiness. Her friend was almost as ready to swoon. “And who is this lovely lady, Fee?”

“This is Meris, Fee’s friend,” Starros volunteered. “I promised her she could meet you as well.”

“Then I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Meris.” He kissed her palm as well, just for good measure. It never hurt to have the lower classes on your side. Elezaar was always telling him that, too.

The
court’esa
beamed at him and dropped into an awkward curtsey as Almodavar pushed his way forward, not at all happy about the interruption to their progress. “Damin, we have to keep moving.”

“I know, I know. Moving targets are harder to hit.” He turned to Starros and the
court’esa
with an apologetic smile. “Sorry ladies, but we have to push on. What about you, Starros?”

“Well, if I run all the way there,” Starros told him with a groan, “I should get back to the palace just in time to greet you with the rest of the welcoming committee.”

“Don’t be stupid. Ride with us. You can fill me in on the way about this ridiculous plan Mahkas has for the parade this afternoon.” He snapped his fingers at the nearest mounted guard. “Iyan! Let Starros have your horse. You can ride one of the spares at the back.”

The Raider dismounted without argument and led his horse over to Starros, who offered the man a thankful nod and swung into the saddle. He fell in beside Damin and they moved off again, Damin waving to the crowd as they rode.

“So, what did you get in return for introducing me to a couple of working
court’esa
?” he asked with a wink and a wave to a particularly pretty girl calling his name from the balcony of one of the many brothels in this end of town.

“Nothing,” Starros shrugged.

“
Nothing
?” Damin echoed in disbelief. “Old Orleon’s not teaching you anything terribly useful, is he?”

“It was a favour to Fee, Damin. The gods know, we owed her one. If she’d told on us that day . . .

your mother would have killed me, had you lashed, and had Kalan bricked up in her room.”

“That’s true. You’re looking well, I have to say.”

“So are you.”

Damin laughed. “According to Almodavar I’m the victim of too much high living in Greenharbour. He’s going to sort me out in the morning, so he claims.”

“At dawn,” Almodavar reminded him loudly, calling out to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

“You’ll probably need to wake him, Starros.”

“I’ll see he’s there on time,” Starros called back to the captain, and then his smile faded a little and he dropped his voice so that only Damin could hear him. “So Almodavar told you about the float, did he?”

“He said something about it.”

“It’s a thirty-foot-high moving platform covered in blue silk to represent the ocean. It has a bower on top for you and Leila. You’re going to be dressed as Kaelarn. I think Leila is supposed to represent the goddess, Kalianah.”

Damin continued to smile and wave, his outward demeanour at complete odds with the anger he could feel building inside him at his uncle’s presumptuousness. “And he seriously thinks I’m going to agree to this?”

“You know Mahkas, Damin. He’s had his heart set on you marrying Leila for so long, he’s convinced himself it’s real.”

“And what does Leila think of it, do you suppose?”

“She doesn’t want any part of it. Or you,” Starros added, grinning suddenly. “She still hasn’t forgiven you for calling her a sissy, you know.”

“Well, she was being a sissy.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should have called her one.”

Damin shook his head, thinking some things in Krakandar hadn’t changed at all. “You still defend her over every little thing, don’t you?”

“Someone has to.”

Damin looked at his foster-brother curiously, wondering at his tone. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on, Starros?”

He nodded and pointed at the gateway of the inner ring and the palace only a few hundred feet ahead of them through the forest of people. “I will, Damin. But not here and not now. It’s neither the time nor the place.”

Starros is right about that much
, Damin thought, as they pushed their way forward, although the way he spoke sounded a little more ominous than Damin thought the occasion warranted.
Mahkas
can be a bit pigheaded, but surely there’s nothing happening here in Krakandar that warrants such a dire
tone?

Well, he would find out soon enough, he figured, although it took another half an hour to make it to the gate. Then suddenly they were through and the crowd fell back as they rode into the vast inner courtyard of Krakandar Palace, where the rest of the family were waiting to greet him.

Mahkas Damaran had listened to the horns announcing the arrival of his nephew with the sense of anticipation common to all men who believe their fondest dreams are about to come true. He hurried to gather the welcoming delegation and move them out onto the top of the broad palace steps to await Damin’s arrival, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm, as he always did in times of heightened stress. He was determined to make absolutely certain Damin knew how glad they were to have him back home.

This was the first time since the young prince had left for his fosterage with Rogan Bearbow in Izcomdar, when he was thirteen, that Damin had returned home without Princess Marla and certainly the only time he’d come home for an extended visit. His other visits had been too short or too busy to give the young people any sort of chance to get close to each other.

Damin’s most worrying visit, Mahkas remembered, idly rubbing at his arm, had been eight years ago, the year Damin turned sixteen. Marla had purchased a
court’esa
for her son in Greenharbour and brought the young woman to Krakandar for the Summer Retreat. Reyna, her name was, Mahkas recalled. She was, not surprisingly, a stunning young woman. Marla had paid a record price for her. It was the talk of Greenharbour for months. (A few people even accused her of artificially inflating the price of slaves, simply so her husband could realise a profit on a shipment of slaves he had brought in from Fardohnya around about the same time.) Damin, understandably enough, had been completely besotted by his new
court’esa
and had eyes for nothing and nobody else the whole time he was home.

By the time he returned to Rogan in Izcomdar, he had barely spoken two words to Leila all summer long.

Furious his nephew was so easily distracted, Mahkas had promised to send Reyna to Natalandar along with Damin’s luggage, which was due to follow him a few days after he left Krakandar. But rather than tell Reyna to get packed, the day after Damin left with Marla and Ruxton, Mahkas arranged to have her bunk searched, where his men found several pieces of Bylinda’s jewellery hidden under her pillow.

Ignoring Reyna’s loud protestations of innocence, Mahkas had the girl whipped until she was scarred for life, and then sold off as a fruit-picking slave to a vineyard just over the border in Elasapine. He sent a letter to Marla, explaining that the girl had been a thief and had been punished accordingly and that had been the end of it.

Damin, interestingly enough, had never asked to own another
court’esa
until he moved to Greenharbour, contenting himself with those slaves belonging to Rogan’s household.

This
unexpected visit was fate, Mahkas knew. There would be time now for things to develop as they should. Time for Damin and Leila to fall in love. The plague in Greenharbour and all the terrible deaths that came with it were the gods’ way of putting Damin where he needed to be, to allow all of Mahkas’s dreams to be fulfilled.

Everyone had their assigned places in the welcoming party, organised strictly by rank. His wife and daughter stood with Mahkas at the head of the steps. Bylinda was looking a little pale, but Leila stood by his side, tall and beautiful in the bright spring sunlight, dressed in a gorgeous lavender gown he’d bought her especially from Fardohnya, looking every inch the fit consort for a High Prince, which Mahkas was quite sure Damin would acknowledge the moment he laid eyes on his cousin again.

Mahkas tried to understand Marla’s reluctance to formally announce the betrothal. It was a commonly held belief that a man shouldn’t marry before he was twenty-five or thirty, although she’d been quick enough to allow Xanda to marry Luciena at seventeen, when there was a shipping fortune at stake, he recalled a little sourly. In principle, Mahkas agreed with the notion of a man sowing a few wild oats before he settled down. The trouble was, Leila wasn’t getting any younger. Damin was only twenty-four and if he waited until he was thirty to take a bride, Leila would be almost twenty-nine by then and well into the danger years for childbearing.

If that happened, Mahkas’s biggest fear was that Marla might decide to look for a younger bride for her precious Wolfblade line—a girl still in her late teens or early twenties, who might more safely bear a number of healthy children. It was a valid fear, Mahkas knew. Bylinda had only ever been able to carry one healthy child to term (and a daughter at that). With her mother’s poor history, Marla might look at Leila and be justifiably concerned that the daughter would suffer the same problems as the mother. The very thought of it made the regent fidget nervously and rub at his forearm. Out of habit, Bylinda slapped his hand away almost unconsciously, as she always did when she saw him worrying at it, so to distract himself he turned to make sure everybody was in their place.

Behind the Regent of Krakandar and his family were arrayed a score of other palace functionaries and behind them the servants and slaves Mahkas had deemed worthy of the honour of greeting his nephew. Old Lirena was there, leaning heavily on her cane, the slave who had nursed Damin and his siblings when they were babies, along with a number of other palace staff who had known Damin since he was born. It was important, Mahkas knew, for Damin to have that sense of homecoming only this place could provide. He knew the value of a man having a place he could truly call his home. As he surveyed the crowd of well-wishers, Mahkas frowned. Starros was missing, he noticed. Orleon stood alone, with no sign of his young assistant.