Well of the Damned (32 page)

“Aren’t
you supposed to be with the queen’s contingent?” the
taller one asked. He had a bulbous nose and heavy-lidded blue eyes
that made him look bored.

The
queen was in Ambryce? Cirang felt a pang of apprehension. The last
person she wanted to run into was Feanna Kinshield. “No, I’m
on a special assignment to Keyes, but I need to leave a message for
King Gavin.”

“You
want to send it by bird, then?” the guard asked.

“No,
the king is riding to Ambryce as we speak,” she told him. The
two men cast a glance at each other. “I prefer to leave the
message with you. You’ll see it delivered to him immediately
after he arrives, won’t you? It’s most important.”

The
guard awakened and stood up at attention. “M-me? Is it all
right if I give it to my captain instead?”

Cirang
rolled her eyes. The buck probably couldn’t take a piss without
asking his captain for instructions. “Yes, yes, that’s
fine. It’s crucial he gets this message as soon as possible, so
you need to get word to every guard you have on patrol that an urgent
message has been left for King Gavin. Anyone who sees him must direct
him to your captain and impress upon him the importance of it.”

They
bowed crisply in unison. “Yes, First Royal. We’ll post
someone at the bridge to make certain King Gavin receives the message
immediately.”

“Not
the bridge over the Flint River,” she said. “He won’t
be coming from the north. He’ll be coming from the mountains.”

Both
guards’ eyebrows shot up at the same time. “From the
Superstition mountains?” the tall one asked.

A
rude quip tempted her tongue, but she held it in check and just gave
them an impatient look. “Yes, from the Superstition mountains.
What other mountains are near Ambryce?”

“Uh,
all right,” he said, scratching his temple. “We’ll
send a couple guards to the east side of town to intercept him.”

“Don’t
mishandle this or he’ll likely have your heads when he finds
out.” She turned her horse to the west.

Now
it was time to conduct her experiment.

Chapter 36

It
was late morning when Gavin and his friends arrived in Ambryce. His
latest search for Cirang placed her in the northern part of the city,
not far from the Lordover Ambryce’s manor. They’d ridden
as fast as they dared to, without risking injury to their horses, but
all Gavin could think of was Cirang passing herself off as one of his
First Royal Guards to get close to Feanna. His reason reminded him
that Cirang had no business with her, aside from making her a tool to
anger Gavin. She’d already done enough of that to chance
further insult. His fear told him Feanna was in mortal danger, and
Cirang had some unknown vendetta against her.

The
city was muddier than the last time he’d visited, and some
buildings were bloated from the rain. Some looked like they had burst
open, leaving a pile of debris through which people sorted, looking
for items worth saving. He’d not seen much of this in Tern, for
the homes and shops were better constructed. It seemed likely that
other cities were in similar condition, with families displaced. A
new council to oversee reconstruction and temporary aid to the
hapless residents would be formed as soon as he returned home.

As
they rode through the streets, many people didn’t seem to
notice them, perhaps because his arrival wasn’t expected. They
walked, heads down and shoulders hunched, looking every bit as tired
of the rain as he was.

Daia
grinned as she looked around. “Hardly anyone recognizes you,”
she said.

“Most
o’Thendylath wasn’t at the coronation,” he replied,
“so how would they know what the king looks like?”

“Oh,
they’ve heard about your size, your scars, your eyes, your
missing tooth. Don’t fool yourself. That sort of information
gets around.”

Some
people did look up at them as they rode through the streets, many
with confusion on their faces, a few with disinterest, and even fewer
with surprised recognition. When he turned to look behind them, he
saw a small following had formed of eager people, calling to their
neighbors to come quick. A girl ran up to one of the lordover’s
patrolling armsmen and pointed at Gavin.

“Don’t
stop,” Daia said. “We’ll be trapped in a crowd.”

The
man-at-arms rode up at a canter and fell into step beside him. Under
his rain cloak, he wore a stiff, tailored jacket and matching
trousers, with black boots and gloves, and no external armor. Gavin
hoped the lordover at least outfitted his guard with leather
cuirasses worn beneath their jackets. “Your Majesty! It
is
you. Welcome to Ambryce, sire. I’ve been instructed to
inform you a most urgent message has been left for you with the
Captain of the Guard.”

“Who’s
it from?” Gavin asked. Only one person knew he would be in
Ambryce, but why would Cirang leave him a message? He kept riding,
not wanting to be engulfed in a sea of people trying to touch him or
shake his hand.

“I—
I don’t know, my liege. I was only told to direct you to the
captain. If you would allow me, I would be pleased— I mean
proud to escort you to him.”

“How
did you know King Gavin was coming to Ambryce?” Daia asked, as
though snatching the words from his tongue.

“The
captain told me.”

“What’s
the message?” Gavin asked him.

“It’s
sealed, my liege. My captain only instructed us to inform you of it
and stress the urgency of it.”

“A
stall tactic?” Daia asked.

“Maybe,”
he said. Several scenarios ran through his mind, including one in
which Cirang kidnapped the queen to hide away, gagged and bound. He
would have to search for her while Cirang slipped away. “But
she has my attention. Lead on, soldier.”

Calinor
moved up beside him. “Gavin, I want to make arrangements for
the burial o’Vandra and the two people Cirang killed, if that’s
awright.”

“You’re
just sending the city custodian to collect them, aren’t you?
Not planning to go back yourself?” At Calinor’s nod,
Gavin said, “Awright, meet us at the lordover’s when
you’re done. I’ll need you with me.”

Calinor
broke off from the group, and the guard moved ahead of them,
shouting, “Make way!” at the citizens in the street,
which enabled them to trot instead of walk.

“What about Cirang?”
Daia said.

Though
Ambryce wasn’t a small city, he could find her, and with his
ability to find her, he was confident she would be dead before
nightfall. “Distance is her ally. If she stays in the city,
we’ll catch her. First, I want to know what she has to say.”

The
guard led them to the city’s center where the lordover’s
estate was. The construction quality of homes and buildings improved
the closer they got. Three guards stood at the open gates, looking
around. When they spotted him, one mounted his horse and galloped off
towards the main manor, presumably to tell the lordover the king was
here.

“His
Royal Highness, King Gavin of Thendylath,” the escort said as
Gavin approached the gates.

One
armsman stepped forward, snapped his heels together and bowed
crisply. “Welcome to Ambryce, Your Majesty. I’m Rikard
Hasprun, Captain of the Guard at your command.” Like the
others, he wore the gray and green colors of the lordover beneath his
rain cloak. His jacket had three golden bands sewn onto the cuffs to
mark his higher rank.

“You
have a message for me?”

Rikard
approached and offered a folded paper, sealed with blue wax. Gavin
took it, ran a finger under its edge to break the seal, and unfolded
it, expecting to see a blank piece of paper. Instead, he found a
short message beautifully handwritten. His elementary reading skill
had never bothered him when he was a warrant knight, but now that he
was king, it was a source of embarrassment. He tried to read the
note, but his untrained eye couldn’t make out the fancy,
swirling letters. He’d never expected Cirang to be so highly
literate, though he did remember Tyr as being well spoken, despite
his exotic accent. After folding the paper, he passed it to Daia,
pretending to have read it. He would ask her to read it to him once
they were alone.

“My
thanks, Rikard. I need you to send a message by bird to Edan
Dawnpiper in Tern to let him know I’m here.”

“Yes,
my liege.” The captain motioned for one of the other guards to
see to the task. “Right away. I regret the Lordover Ambryce
isn’t here to greet you personally, sire. He had left to
conduct some business before your First Royal alerted us you were
coming.”

Gavin
dismissed the concern with a wave. He was glad he wouldn’t be
subjected to the lordover’s false praise and apologies when he
had important matters to handle. “Is my wife still in Ambryce?”
he asked.

“Yes,
my liege. She’s planning to take some of the orphan children to
the market district today, but she hasn’t left yet. My men are
out securing the streets.”

“The
woman who left this message, did she ask to see the queen?”

“No,
my liege. She simply asked that this message be given to you. She
said it was quite urgent.”

“Take
me to my wife.” He needed to make sure Cirang hadn’t
somehow gotten to her, but more than that, he missed her. Since their
secret wedding three months earlier, they hadn’t been apart for
more than a few hours at a time. This morning marked the seventh day
since he’d kissed her good-bye. Though they’d been
arguing lately, he hoped she would welcome his visit.

And
he wanted to see whether he could duplicate his earlier experience
connecting with his unborn son.

“I’ll
show you to the guesthouse,” Rikard said. Gavin gestured for
him to lead the way.

The
grounds weren’t as well manicured as those of the Lordover
Tern, but they were far more attractive than any part of the city
outside the walls. Flowers and short hedges lined many of the
walkways, and all of the plants looked healthy and lush, well watered
from the four weeks of rain. They first went to the stable, where the
horses were given into the care of the jolly stable master. Rikard
then escorted him across the courtyard.

The
guesthouse was bigger than most people’s homes. Its exterior
walls were natural gray brick, accented with lighter gray brick
around the doorway. The walls on the inside were paneled with white
wood, and the plush carpet covering the dark wood floor had an image
of a mounted knight woven into it.

Feanna’s
unofficial champion, Tennara, was standing in the foyer with a
surprised expression when he, Daia and Brawna entered. She bowed to
him and shook hands with the two women. “Welcome, Your Majesty.
We weren’t expecting you.”

The foyer was only about eight
feet square. There were three closed doors before him, and to the
left was a sitting room not much larger.

Adro
and Lilalian rose from their seats. On the table between them were
two dice and two piles of silver coins. “King—”
Adro started to say but stopped when Gavin put a finger to his lips.

“I
want to surprise Feanna,” Gavin said quietly. “Which room
is she in?”

“She’s
in the one on the far right,” Tennara replied. “She’ll
be glad to see you. We all are. What brings you to Ambryce?”

“Cirang,”
Gavin said. “You haven’t seen her, have you?”

Tennara
and Lilalian shook their heads, eyebrows raised.

Adro’s
blond brow wrinkled. “Cirang? No, sire. Last I saw of her, she
was in gaol. Did she escape?”

“It’s
a long story,” Gavin said. “Be on the lookout for her,
and be wary. She’s wearing Vandra’s mail shirt.”

Tennara
tensed. “Vandra’s dead then.”

Daia
piped up. “If she offers you anything to drink, don’t.
Apprehend her immediately.”

“Or
better yet,” Gavin said, “put your sword through her
heart. Above all, don’t let her anywhere near my wife.”

“Of
course,” Lilalian said. “Your will be done.”

“In
fact, don’t let Feanna out o’your sight, even for a
moment.”

Tennara
nodded. “Your will be done.”

“Not
even when she shits,” Gavin said, “though I prefer Lila
or Tennara be on shit duty.” The two battlers shared a glance
and chuckled. “That’s not a jest.”

“No,
sire,” Lilalian said, still smiling. “I’ll take
shit duty.”

“Awright
then. Far right you said?”

All
three battlers nodded, and Gavin went to the door. He leaned one ear
towards it, but he heard no voices, no movement. Carefully, he
pressed the thumb latch and hoped she hadn’t barred the door.
It opened.

Dressed
in a green gown, she sat at a small writing table, quill in hand,
while her maid brushed her hair. The two women looked up in surprise
when he entered.

“Gavin!”
Feanna cried. She dropped the pen and ran to him.

“How
now, sweethea—” he managed to say before her lips pressed
against his and shut him up. His arms went around her automatically
and held her tightly. Her warmth, her love, her intoxicating scent
made his knees weaken. Her hands caressed his hair and neck while
they kissed.
Guess she’s not angry anymore,
he thought.
He heard the door close and the latch click.