Wolfblade (58 page)

Unfortunately, all the mature common sense in the world couldn’t stop her longing for what might have been.

M
ahkas waited anxiously with Laran for the scouts to return from across the Medalonian border. Their small camp was hidden in the trees a few hundred paces back from the Border Stream which marked the line between Medalon and Hythria. Their fires were low and carefully shielded, even though they had seen no sign of any Defender patrols on the Medalon side of the border. That didn’t mean they weren’t there. It might just mean the patrol was particularly good at hiding any sign of their passing.

It was just on dusk and the slight breeze was chilly, even though spring had officially started several weeks ago. Mahkas shivered, hoping it was the weather and not some terrible premonition that made him feel so jittery. They had expected the scouts back over an hour ago. Laran seemed unconcerned, more interested in preparing his dinner. The scouts had found a young straggler the day before yesterday that had wandered away from its herd on the other side of the stream. The steer was barely a yearling, the meat tender and sweet. They’d butchered the carcass and eaten like kings for the past few days.

“Stop pacing, Mahkas,” Laran ordered, as he adjusted the haunch of beef over the fire to make the most of the flames. “They’ll be back.”

“They’re late,” Mahkas reminded his brother. “Aren’t you worried?”

“Not particularly,” Laran shrugged. Then he smiled. “Or maybe it’s not overdue scouts that have you so edgy.”

“I’m not edgy.”

“We’ll be home in a couple of days,” Laran assured him. “You’ll see Bylinda soon enough.”

Mahkas frowned, wondering if he’d been so obvious that every man in the troop knew he was fretting about being away from home. “Suppose she gives birth while I’m away?”

“Your wife wouldn’t dare give birth to your son without you being there,” Laran chuckled. “I’m quite sure she has her legs firmly crossed.”

“We
are
going home after this raid, aren’t we?” Mahkas demanded of his brother. “No more reconnaissance? No more detours? No more ‘just checking on the strength of the Defenders’?”

“Yes, Mahkas,” Laran promised. “We’re going home after this raid. I need to get back for Kagan, anyway.”

Mahkas stopped his pacing and came to sit opposite Laran by the fire. “The High Arrion is coming to Krakandar for the Feast of Kalianah this year?”

“A letter arrived from him just before we left,” Laran confirmed, feeding some more sticks into the fire. “He said he had something urgent to discuss with me.”

“He probably wants money,” Mahkas suggested with a humourless laugh. “Perhaps he wants to build a monument to himself before he dies and figures his nephews should be the ones to pay for it.”

Laran shook his head. “He said it had something to do with Darilyn’s death.”

On the other side of the fire, Mahkas froze warily. In the past two years he had aged ten, living in terror of the day when someone realised he had murdered his sister. He felt bad about having done it. Really bad. And Mahkas had tried to make amends. He treated Darilyn’s sons like his own. Loved them like a father. He insisted that Bylinda treat them as her own too, determined to see the boys didn’t suffer for want of a mother. But not a day went by that he didn’t think about it. Not a day went by that he didn’t expect to be caught out in the lies. Not a day went by when he didn’t rub the sore spot on his arm that for some reason refused to go away. He couldn’t leave it alone, either, rubbing it raw when he was tired or worried about something.

Remarkably, nobody had ever discovered the truth. Laran had believed him. Jeryma had believed him. Even Kagan, after expressing a few doubts, had come to believe his version of events. Until now.

Is that why Kagan is coming to Krakandar? Has he discovered the truth
?

Forcing himself to stay calm, Mahkas enquired casually, “Oh? Did he say what he wanted to tell you?”

“No. Just that some information had come to light which needed to be dealt with urgently. I can’t imagine what he’d think was so important after all this time, but it must be fairly serious to bring him all this way. He’s barely left Greenharbour since Wrayan went missing.”

Mahkas jumped on the chance to change the subject. “Has nobody ever discovered what became of his apprentice?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I know Kagan thinks Alija Eaglespike was behind Wrayan’s disappearance, but he can’t prove it. For that matter, without
a body, he can’t even be sure that Wrayan didn’t just suddenly decide to take off from the Sorcerers’ Collective and return to his former life as a thief.”

“That’s a bit unlikely, isn’t it? After ten years?”

“That’s what Kagan thinks. I’m interested to hear what he has to say about Darilyn, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mahkas advised with a remarkably steady voice. “We’ll know what news he has for us in a few days.”
A few days
. The words rattled around Mahkas’s head like a threat.

That might be all the time he had before Laran learned the truth.

Did Kagan really know what had happened? Had he finally figured it out? He’d been suspicious of Darilyn’s wounds after he’d viewed her body in Cabradell after Riika’s funeral. What should I do?

What would Laran do?

Mahkas hesitated. There was really no question about what Laran would do to Mahkas if he discovered who was responsible for Darilyn’s death. And worse, if his older brother discovered the motive behind Darilyn’s killing, Laran would also learn that Mahkas was responsible for Riika’s kidnapping and death at the hands of the Fardohnyans, and he would be doubly damned.

And what if we’re late back home? What if Kagan arrives in Krakandar before us and has time to tell someone else his theory about who was really responsible for the death of his two nieces
?

“Mahkas!”
Laran said sharply, jerking him out of his horrifying train of thought. His older brother was still squatting on the other side of the fire, turning the haunch of beef. The flickering light on his angular features made him look like the face of Judgment.

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d suddenly gone deaf.” Laran wiped his hands on his trousers as he stood up and pointed north towards the border. “No time for daydreaming, little brother. The scouts are back.”

Several other Raiders were gathered near the edge of the camp, bows raised and pointed into the darkness in case the scouts were being pursued. The two men sent to find the most likely herds to raid tomorrow slipped into the camp, stopping near the closest fire to shed their weapons and share their intelligence. Mahkas didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, staring into the fire, wondering what would happen when Kagan spoke to Laran. He prayed none of his guilt or fear was showing on his face. Scrambling to his feet, he forced his features into a grin.

“Then let’s go plot the recovery of some prime Medalonian beef for the Feast of Kalianah, eh?” he announced with a strained laugh.

“And let’s honour Dacendaran while we’re at it,” Laran laughed, turning towards the other fire.

Mahkas followed close behind—just one of the boys, the Warlord’s loyal younger brother—thinking the only thing he was interested in at the moment was not stealing Medalonian cattle or honouring any god.

All Mahkas cared about was finding a way to stop Kagan Palenovar and Laran Krakenshield discussing anything to do with the death of his sisters.

A
fter dinner, Nash joined Marla and Bylinda for a walk in the gardens. Enclosed on three sides by the palace walls and the high granite defensive wall on the fourth side, the carefully laid out palace gardens were the only slice of greenery to be had in the inner circle of the city.

Having grown up at Highcastle with the majestic Sunrise Mountains all around her, Marla found the gardens the only real escape in the palace and treasured any chance she had to lose herself among the scattered grottoes. Jeryma had also enjoyed the gardens when she was mistress here and spent quite a bit of her late husband’s money having them redesigned and maintained. Before leaving for Cabradell she had made Marla promise to ensure the gardens would not be let go in her absence. Jeryma had put so much emphasis on her precious gardens, Marla got the impression she could allow almost any other calamity to befall Krakandar and her mother-in-law would forgive her, provided the gardens remained unscathed.

Nash offered Bylinda his arm with a sympathetic smile as they stepped out of the solar onto the lawns. “Allow me,” he said, helping her down the steps.

Bylinda blushed. Marla couldn’t help but smile. Nine months pregnant and awkward as a beached water dragon, yet Nash still managed to make Bylinda think she was worthy of a man’s attention.

“Thank you, Lord Hawksword,” her sister-in-law muttered self-consciously.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Nash assured her. “And it is I who should be thanking you, my lady. How often does a man get to stroll around the Krakandar palace gardens in the starlight with a stunning woman on each arm?” He smiled at Marla and offered her his left arm. “Shall we?”

Seeing no harm in it, Marla took his arm and fell into step with Nash and
Bylinda. They walked along the gravelled path between the flowerbeds, enjoying the crisp spring evening. An earlier breeze had died down, leaving the air sharp and clean.

“How much longer until your confinement, Lady Bylinda?” Nash enquired after a few moments of companionable silence.

“The midwives say any day now.”

“Well, if my opinion counts for anything, I think you’ll make a wonderful mother,” he told her. “You have that glow about you.”

“What glow?” she asked, obviously flattered.

“You know, that . . . that glow women get about them when they become mothers. It’s very attractive, I can tell you.”

Marla nudged Nash warningly.

“What?” Nash asked with an innocent look.

“Don’t listen to him, Bylinda,” she ordered. Bylinda was heavily pregnant and very vulnerable at the moment. She didn’t need a man teasing her, even if he meant no harm by it. “Lord Hawksword is an outrageous flirt and he’s just trying to embarrass you.”

“You wound me, your highness,” Nash declared.

Bylinda laughed. “I think she’s right, though. You are a terrible flirt, Lord Hawksword.”

“And now she has turned you against me, too!” he wailed, as if he’d just learned his best friend was dead. “What am I to do?”

“Shut up, for starters,” Marla laughed. “Or you’ll bring the guards out wondering what is going on down here.”

Nash opened his mouth to object but before he could say a word, Bylinda doubled over with a sharp cry.

“Bylinda?” Marla cried, hurrying to her side. “Has it started?”

The young woman shook her head, pushing both Nash and Marla aside. She ran into the bushes and a few moments later the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up announced what was wrong with her.

Nash shook his head in amazement. “And women do this? Get pregnant, I mean? On purpose?”

“It’s your sex that makes us that way,” Marla reminded him, as the sounds of Bylinda retching in the bushes continued.

“Will she be all right?”

Marla nodded. “She’s been doing this for the past month or so. Bylinda’s carrying the child very high and it’s pressing on her stomach. If she has a big meal . . .”

“Poor girl. What should we do?”

“Let her be until she’s done and don’t make a fuss,” Marla advised. “She’ll be embarrassed enough without you making it worse.”

A few moments later, Bylinda emerged from the bushes, wiping her
mouth. She looked down at her spattered skirts with an expression of utter humiliation. Marla hurried to her, but the young woman pushed her aside. “No. I’m fine, Marla, really. Why don’t you continue your walk with Lord Hawksword. I’ll go back to the palace and get changed.”

“Are you sure, Bylinda?”

She nodded and picked up her skirts, fleeing the scene as fast as she was able. Marla watched her leave, shaking her head, then turned to Nash. “Poor thing. She’s not having a very good time of it.”

“As I recall, you were quite the opposite when you were having Damin. I remember thinking you looked very . . . robust.”

Marla smiled and slipped her arm through Nash’s as they walked on. “You tell Bylinda she’s glowing and I’m
robust
? Some flatterer you turned out to be.”

Nash glanced over his shoulder before answering, perhaps checking that Bylinda was truly out of earshot. Then he took Marla’s hand and drew her off the path into the shelter of the tall bushes. He took both her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

“Would you like me to tell you what I really think of you, Marla?” he asked in a voice laden with promise.

Acutely aware that they were in a very public place, albeit hidden from view temporarily, she tried to extricate her hands from his. “I think, Nash, that it might be better for both of us if you
don’t
tell me.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”