Warrior (69 page)

With some difficulty, they got Bylinda to Kalan’s room, where Rorin was waiting for them. He helped them put Bylinda on Kalan’s bed, gave her a draught to calm her down and then came out to join Kalan and Tejay in the outer room.

“I was just explaining to Tejay that we might be able to get into Leila’s room through the slaveways.”

“Surely the first thing Mahkas did when he confined Leila was to lock that door?”

“There’s a master key,” Kalan told him. “I just need to find it.”

“Which may solve your immediate problem, Kalan,” Tejay said, “and allow us to tend to your cousin, but not the larger one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I
mean
, someone needs to put a stop to Mahkas,” she declared. “You saw what he just did to his own daughter. What fate do you think lies in store for the young man he found her with?”

“Dear gods! Starros! With everything that was happening to Leila, I never even thought about him. What do you suppose Mahkas plans to do to him?”

“I’m guessing he plans to kill him,” Rorin suggested. “As many times as he can.”

Tejay nodded her agreement. “And that’s today. Tomorrow he might decide everyone who knew about the affair needs to be silenced, and from what I gather, that’s a fair slice of the entire population of Krakandar City.”

“But how do we stop him?” Kalan asked. “He’s the Regent of Krakandar. He holds absolute power over everyone in the province. Even being a member of the Sorcerers’ Collective means almost nothing compared to that here.”

“We need your brother,” Rorin concluded. “He’s the only one I can think of who Mahkas might listen to.”

“Damin?” Kalan scoffed, thinking it a good thing he
wasn’t
here. “What good would it do having him home?”

“He’s Krakandar’s prince,” Tejay reminded her. “And the reason Mahkas seems so frantic about Leila. If he was here and perhaps able to convince your uncle that things aren’t as desperate as Mahkas believes . . .”

“I suppose,” Kalan agreed, a little doubtfully. “But he’s not due back for days, maybe more than a week.”

“Is there no way to get a message to him?” Tejay asked.

Kalan shook her head in despair. “He’s in Medalon somewhere. He could be anywhere between the Border Stream and the Citadel.”

“Maybe we
can
get a message to him,” Rorin suggested thoughtfully.

“How?” Tejay demanded.

“Wrayan.”

“Who?”

“Wrayan Lightfinger,” Kalan told her, looking at Rorin hopefully. “Can he do that?”

Rorin shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really a telepath like Wrayan. He might be able to do it, I suppose. In theory. Although he might need to know exactly where a person is to reach them. At least he knows the touch of Damin’s mind, so he should be able to search for him. Then again, with the shield in place, even Wrayan might not be able to get through to him—”

“What
are
you babbling on about, young man?” Tejay cut in.

“We have a friend,” Kalan explained, wondering how much she should tell Lady Lionsclaw about Wrayan’s magical ability. “He lives in the city. He has certain . . . gifts.”

“Then why are you still standing here, lad?” she demanded of the young sorcerer. “Off you go. If this friend of yours can get Damin Wolfblade back here even an hour earlier than he originally intended, it’s worth a try.”

Rorin didn’t need any further encouragement. He was gone a few moments later, leaving Kalan to stare at Tejay, shaking her head with the immensity of their task.

“Do you really think Damin can do anything, Tejay? Mahkas is Damin’s regent. He has the power of life and death over Damin, too.”

Tejay leaned forward and patted Kalan’s hand comfortingly. “I think you underestimate your brother, dear. And the power behind his title. Regent or no, I wouldn’t like to be Mahkas if the Prince of Krakandar decides to challenge him.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“So do I,” Lady Lionsclaw agreed. “Now let’s see if we can find this master key of yours and go and tend to your cousin, eh? That will give us something constructive to do while we wait.”

“You don’t have to get involved in this, you know, Lady Lionsclaw. It really is a family matter.”

“Damin was fostered with my father for five years, Kalan. I think of him as family. That makes you and Leila my family also.”

“He says the same of you,” Kalan told her, grateful for such a level head at a time like this. And one that Mahkas had no direct influence over. She smiled and placed her hand over Tejay’s, squeezing it gratefully. “Thank you, my lady.”

“There’s no need to thank me, dear,” Tejay replied. “I get a kick out of cutting arrogant, self-important little tyrants down to size.” And then she smiled and added, “Just ask your brother.”

The master key to the slaveways was right where the boys had left it, sitting above the ledge over the door that led into Damin’s room. It was caked with dust and spider webs and Kalan had never seen anything more wonderful in her life. With Tejay close behind her, carrying a basket filled with bandages, a salve for Leila’s wounds made of chickweed, yarrow and wormwood, and a willowbark tonic for the pain, the two women hurried through the dimly lit slaveways until they reached the door that led into Leila’s rooms.

Not surprisingly, it was locked. Kalan held her breath as she inserted the key, silently praying that it really was the master key the boys had copied all those years ago. The key caught on something and refused to budge. Cursing, Kalan tried again. The second time, it jagged again.

“Do it slowly,” Tejay whispered, in response to Kalan’s even more savage curse.

Kalan did as Tejay suggested and, much to her relief, this time the key turned without resistance. Wincing as the door slid open with a squeal of metal upon metal that sounded preternaturally loud in the narrow corridors of the slaveways, the two women entered the main room of Leila’s suite. There was no sign of her in the outer room, so they hurried through to the bedroom.

“Dear gods!” Tejay gasped.

Leila was unconscious, lying across the bed like a broken doll, her entire back a bloody canvas of welts, bruises and open cuts. It was more than an hour since Mahkas had emerged from his daughter’s room. Kalan doubted if Leila had done anything in the intervening time except pass out.

As gently as they could, they tried to move her. She moaned faintly, the pain registering even in unconsciousness. On the verge of throwing up, Kalan hurried to the bathroom to fetch some water so they could bathe her wounds. She came back with the washbowl full of water and placed it on the floor beside the bed. Tejay was examining Leila’s injuries with the critical eye of a woman who had seen more than her share of blood and open wounds in her time.

“This is a mess,” the Warlord’s wife remarked with a frown.

“Should I get Bylinda?” Kalan asked in a whisper, afraid the guards outside might hear them speaking.

Tejay shook her head. “The first thing she’d do if she saw Leila in this state is scream the house down. That would bring the guards, which would bring Mahkas, and then none of us will be able to help her. Better we do this quietly.” Tejay gently lifted away a few strands of Leila’s long hair that were caught in the coagulating blood on her back. “It’s a good thing she’s unconscious. I doubt I’d be able to stop screaming if it was me in this condition and someone tried to bathe my wounds.”

With infinite care they treated Leila’s back, washing away the blood to reveal the full extent of the damage. Kalan let Tejay do most of the work. She seemed to know what she was doing. The extent of Leila’s injuries was almost incomprehensible. It didn’t seem possible that one human being could inflict such damage on another.

It was beyond belief that a father could do this to his own daughter.

“Poor Leila,” Kalan remarked as she watched Tejay work, handing her a towel when she needed it, or the jar of antiseptic.

“Poor Leila indeed,” Tejay agreed grimly. “Can you get me some clean water, Kalan?”

The bowl was red with blood and loose bits of skin. Kalan took the bowl, emptied it down the garderobe, and then refilled it from the stopcock over the deep tiled bath that took up much of the spacious bathroom. She hurried back to Tejay and placed the water on the floor beside her again.

“She was always the quietest one of us,” Kalan remarked, sitting on the bed beside her cousin, gently stroking her blood-matted hair away from her face. “And the most put-upon, I think. Starros always tried to look out for her. I’m not in the least bit surprised to learn they were lovers.”

“She’d have been better off using a
court’esa
,” Tejay said unsympathetically, “if a quick roll in the sack was all she was after. Nobody gets beaten like this for being found with a
court’esa
in their bed.”

Kalan shook her head. “It’s not the same. I’d rather have a lover than a
court’esa
.”

Tejay looked up from her ministrations. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Kalan shrugged, but avoided answering the question directly. “I’m a member of the Sorcerers’

Collective, Lady Lionsclaw. The same rules don’t apply to us.”

“So are you and the young cutie lovers then?” she asked, wringing out the cloth again, staining the fresh water red.

“Young
cutie
? Oh, you mean Rorin? Good gracious, no! He’s my friend.”

“And you think you can’t be friends with your lovers?”

“I think most of my lovers don’t want to be my friend,” Kalan corrected.

Tejay seemed amused by her philosophy. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, Kalan.

Here, help me move her up the bed a little further.”

Kalan helped Tejay lift Leila’s dead weight until she was lengthwise on the bed with her head on the pillow. She was still on her stomach—there was no way they could move her onto her back without causing her agonising pain. As gently as she could manage, Tejay began to apply the salve. Kalan flinched as she watched, thinking it was a very good thing Leila was still out cold. Any sound from this room was liable to bring the guards running.

“Are you going to bandage her?”

“No, for two reasons. The first is that it will instantly give away that we’ve been here if Mahkas comes back to find her all trussed up and taken care of, which will result in either the guards dying or him coming after you, or me, or Bylinda. The second reason is far more practical. Some of those cuts are still weeping. If we were to cover them now, the bandages would dry on the wounds and it would rip what’s left of the skin on her back to remove them.”

Kalan cringed at the very thought of it.

“We’ll need to get back in here when she’s awake,” Tejay added, as she wiped her hands on a towel once she had finished with the salve. “I’ve got some willowbark for the pain, but we’ll never get it into her while she’s unconscious.”

“I wish we could stay with her,” Kalan said, looking at Leila with concern. It didn’t seem right to just walk away and leave her like this. She glanced out of the window, surprised to see the sun was completely risen. They needed to get a move on, or breakfast would be served and their absence questioned.

Tejay looked down at Leila, shaking her head in disgust. “Your uncle should be hanged for doing this. I wouldn’t whip a dishonest slave this savagely, let alone one of my own children.”

Kalan agreed with her, but she was also acutely aware that Leila was only half the problem. “Do you think Starros will be all right?”

“Do
you
? Mahkas did this to his own daughter, Kalan. What do you think he’s going to do to the man he believes seduced her?”

Kalan had never felt so helpless in her entire life. “Maybe we can find a way to get in to see him?

One of the guards told me they’re holding him out in the cells behind the Raiders’ Barracks—”

“Don’t even consider it, Kalan,” Tejay warned, as she stoppered the jar of salve and placed it back in the basket. “You have a way to help Leila of which your uncle is ignorant. Be grateful for that small gift. Don’t risk it by trying to save a young man who might well be dead already.”

As Almodavar had predicted, there were no Defenders watching the ford at the Border Stream.

Damin and his troop of sixty Raiders crossed the border into Hythria at a leisurely pace in broad daylight, driving a hundred head of stolen cattle before them, and encountered no resistance at all.

Damin was extremely disappointed. He was hoping for some action. Once he’d gotten over his leap across the Bardarlen Gorge, stealing cattle had proved to be quite the most boring thing he’d ever done. The Medalonian farmsteaders were so used to the frequent cattle raids from their Hythrun neighbours they rarely offered any resistance, and with rumours of plague on the loose, at the first sight of Hythrun Raiders they had simply run away and hidden in their houses and let the Raiders take their pick of the cattle.

“You know, some of us don’t mind the idea we’re going to arrive home in one piece,” Raek remarked when he saw Damin’s crestfallen expression.

Damin reined in his mount beside Raek and waited with the captain as their stolen cattle splashed through the shallow ford, driven on by the Raiders behind them and the occasional encouragement of a stock whip. It was late afternoon and he was forced to squint into the sun slowly setting on the western horizon.

“Am I being that obvious?”

Raek smiled. “Not really.”

“This is where my father died, isn’t it?” Damin asked, as the significance of this place suddenly struck him.

“Yes.”

“Weren’t you on the same raid?”

The captain nodded. “It was over that way a bit, I think,” Raek told the prince, pointing to the right, a little further into Medalon. “Although I could be wrong. It was pretty chaotic at the time.”

“Do you remember much of what happened?”

Raek Harlen shook his head. “Lord Krakenshield took an arrow in the shoulder. I do remember seeing him fall. It knocked him off his horse. Didn’t stop him for long, though.” He smiled. “It took more than one Defender’s arrow to bring Laran Krakenshield down. He was on his feet again, his sword in his other hand, before the Defenders could get near him.”