Chapter One: The Edict

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometime after the hard fall, between the beginning of winter and the last leaf, his Highness the King Rekah Larjen Nameah Wreden issued an edict to all the lords and landowners in the nation of Hebaron. North along the borders of Dergit and south along the seashore cliffs near the ancient as lost civilization of Lubnann, east towards their cousin country Sheloi and west to the mountains that bordered on the old lands, his private guard traveled on horseback spreading the news. And then they went through the land again to make sure the edict was followed.

None of the aristocracy had actually seen the new king, except for his small collection of loyalists. Some of the lords even denied that the lost prince had been found. However, that was mostly a front for the fierce rejection of the king’s edict, which demanded the release of all their slaves to end the practice of slavery in Hebaron once and for all.

Jotham Derrit, the son of the captain of the guard and the captain of the king’s private guard, had traveled in the northeast going from the plantations and manor houses in the area to another along with two others of the king’s private guard—Jennam Etham the king’s advisor and Tabor Edom, formerly Tabor Gilbea—going south to Geber. As the thaw was already in full motion, the buds were starting to form on the trees along the muddy road. The threesome pulled their horses to a halt at the skirts of the Geber plantation. The village ran opposite the land, full of activity that they could see, including spring-cleaning. The noise of hammering echoed even to the forest as the locals repaired roofs and windows damaged in the winter. Jotham looked to Jennam who frowned over his wrapped scarf at the distant shacks on the plantation which stood behind the manor house.

“Do you think he’s anticipating us?” Jotham asked.

Jennam exhaled as he shook his head slowly. “I think he will be like all the others, not taking the king’s edit seriously.”

Tabor snorted. “That will change when you go through his books.”

Casting a glance back at Tabor, Jotham smirked. So did Jennam. Jotham and Jennam sitting side by side at first glance were like looking at twins. Both dark haired, tall and fair skinned, they also held similar postures, though Jennam was slighter in his build.

“Tabor, I want you to keep an eye out,” Jennam said.

He then shifted his position in his saddle, urging his horse to go on. The other two did the same, following him, though Jotham made his horse go a little faster to be at Jennam’s side.

“I think we may have someone following us,” Jennam said.

Tabor looked back over his shoulder to see if Jennam was right. He didn’t see anything. No sign of bandits at least. Shrugging, he turned back around and adjusted the turban on his head that covered the old Lubnanese writing tattooed on his forehead among the freckles in his more ruddy skin. Unlike Jotham and Jennam, Tabor was stocky, packed with strong bones and thick muscles. He cast Jennam a slight look as if to say the man was being paranoid—but he did not voice it.

They rode down the path straight to the lane leading into the village. The villagers lifted their heads to look. As their horses carried them at a walking pace towards the manor house, they heard behind them the sound galloping coming from the road they had just left. All three men pulled on their reins and turned around to look. Their horses nickered in protest.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Tabor moaned the moment he saw the rider.

“His riding’s improved,” Jotham murmured, glancing to Jennam.

Jennam nodded, peering at the approach of another of their fellow knights to the king. The rider drew on the reins to slow his horse, calling to it as its hooves slid in the still muddy thoroughfare. The animal skid before it found its feet and balance. It let out a whinny then turned with a stop. The rider himself was out of breath.

“Thank heaven you stopped,” the rider said, nodding to them.

“Beten, what is it?” Jotham asked, leaning forward in his saddle.

Beten drew in another breath before looking right at Tabor. “I’ve come with a message for you, Tabor. Your mother is ill and your father requests that you come home.”

Tabor blinked then looked back at Jennam. “Would the king mind if I went off duty and—”

Giving him a roll of his eyes, Jennam flicked his hand to shoo him off. “Go! It’s your family. The king will understand.”

Grinning at him with a nod, Tabor turned his horse around and nodded to Beten also. “Thanks. I’ll see you at the meeting then, if it is not too serious.”

“Stay until your mother is well,” Jennam said, casting Jotham a side look.

“Yeah, and don’t rush it,” Jotham called after Tabor who had already urged his horse on with a kick of his heels.

The man was gone within seconds.

Turning to look at them, Beten drew in another breath and sighed. He was a shorter man but with the same Lubnanese complexion and coloring as Jennam and Jotham. Next to them, though, he looked quite soft. His posture was less confident. He also retained a roundness to his face that said he was not used to such traveling. Obviously the king’s errand had required more from him than usual.

“Are you all right?” Jennam asked, peering at him.

Beten gave a short nod. “Yes. I’m…” He swallowed, still catching his breath. “…I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Do you need to return right away to Lord Allon? It was just you and him covering the mid-east area, right?” Jotham glanced to Jennam who nodded back to confirm he was correct in his assumption.

Shaking his head, Beten unexpectedly looked sheepish. “No. We’re done, actually. Or rather, I’m done. Lord Allon Terbid is now back at his manor going through his father’s books…and what I gather is that his father is not too pleased with the enforcement of the king’s edict.”

Jotham blinked at Beten with honest surprise. “He is?”

Beten nodded again. “That’s right. And I hear…Jotham, you’re going to hate this…that Lady Dalane Doeg has agreed to an arranged marriage with Lord Allon.”

Jennam turned to look at his friend. He watched Jotham’s expression go from surprised to entirely stunned.

Lowering his head, Jotham shook it, not noticing or rather ignoring the stares of the locals who watched the exchange between the king’s men with growing interest. Jotham closed his eyes and sighed.

“Of course. Dalane is still mad at me. She certainly won’t marry me now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jennam said with an honest display of remorse.

Jotham looked up. He chuckled. “It’s not your fault. I knew she was like this. She just wanted to marry the king, and I wasn’t the king. That’s all.”

Several onlookers drew in breaths. This news was like getting a taste of rich chocolate, something hard to get and therefore they savored it. More people listened in.

But Jennam tugged on the reins to his horse to turn. He gestured to Beten with his arm. “Alright then. Beten, if you are not going to be with Lord Allon then how about you come with us? Especially since you deprived us of Tabor.”

With a pleased smile, Beten nodded. He worked to urge his horse to follow Jennam. Beten was awkward in the saddle, unlike the other two who were as comfortable as men on their own feet. It took him more effort to get the horse to move in the direction and the speed he wanted. But Jotham and Jennam waited for him. And though the king’s men were leaving the center of the watching crowd, the locals followed them. Mostly children and curious onlookers shadowed them all the way up to the gates of Geber Manor.

Hailing the guards to the manor house, the three men dismounted on the gravel path inside the yard. It was set along the sprouting spring grass and budding flowers. A maid stuck her head out the window and stared, then quickly pulled it back in again. A gardener with two others hobbled over the stepping-stones to take a look to see who had come, then scurried off. And a finely dressed man in his later years, wearing a stiff collar and black suit, opened the broad mahogany door, peering out at them with a defiant blink.

Jotham bowed. Jennam with Beten followed suit, though holding the reins of the horses.

“We have returned to check up on your master, Lord Vaniah Geber. His Highness King Rekah Wreden requests an update on his lordships’ compliance with the edict.”

Jotham lifted his head and gazed straight at the doorman, waiting for the proper response. With the rapid drain of color in the doorman’s face it was clear that nothing had been done.

“The master is not available,” the doorman at last said, drawing together what composure he had left. He attempted to close the door, but Jennam put out his foot to stop it.

Looking to Jotham, Jennam nodded. Beten exhaled as if ready to let out a tired groan.

Setting his hand to the door, Jotham pushed it open. He walked straight into the front room. “Then we will proceed anyway. His Highness insists that we complete this task by the end of the month. Beten, come with me. Jennam, do you mind seeing to the horses?”

With a smirk, Jennam nodded. “Of course not. I was about to do that anyway.”

Jotham smiled.

Casting Jennam a glance, Beten followed Jotham indoors past the doorman to where another stiff-looking man similar serving attire stood with a sneer at them. The man assessed the pair of them in one glance and stuck up his nose.

“Lord Geber is unavailable. You must return another day,” the man said, gazing to Jotham who was clearly the leader of the trio.

With a snort, Jotham drew up his chest while setting his hands onto his hips. “Really? Well, whether he is available or not does not change that we will be inspecting to see if he complied with the law. His Highness has given us full permission to intrude into any home, whether rich or poor, to make sure his edict is being obeyed. So, we will be seeing his lordship’s books, and also the list of those under his employ. Everyone must be accounted for.”

Lord Geber’s man did not budge. His stare remained as dark as the hallway behind him. It was clear he would not cooperate.

“Beten,” Jotham turned and nodded to his fellow knight, “Let’s find the study.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Jennam?” Beten looked back to the front door. “He’d want to see the books himself, don’t you think?”

Jotham gave a wink and said, “He’s exactly where he intends to be. Don’t you worry.”

 

After tending to the horses, Jennam had walked through the stables and into the land where already workers were planting crops in the muck. Passing by them, he peered at the sheer number of shivering ragged men, women, and children on the plantation. At the far end of the field, he noticed one of their overseers standing on the hardened pathway. The man was dressed in a heavy coat, shoving a column of slaves with the butt of his whip handle, urging them into one of the barns on the lot. Nodding to himself, Jennam proceeded over the hardened path between fields in that direction.

“Hey you!” Someone from behind called out to him. “You can’t go in there!”

With a slight look over his shoulder at another overseer, Jennam continued on his way, quickening his pace.

“I said stop!”

But Jennam did not stop. He marched straight to the barn, past the overseer there and through the door, looking inside. There, he found over fifty slaves crouching together on the straw in rows, gazing up at another overseer and a formidable-looking man who was dressed in a rich purple coat trimmed with white fox fur. The formidable man lifted his eyes the moment Jennam stepped into the room, fixing on him in a wide-eyed stare of horror. The man’s face immediately went ash-colored.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Jennam asked, walking in further, even as the overseer that had chased him rushed in from behind.

“I said you can’t come in here!” That overseer reached out for Jennam.

But the young knight dodged back, setting his hand on one of his sword hilts, gripping the handle.

“This is trespassing!” the formidable man in purple shouted, though he put himself behind the overseer at the front of the room. “I demand you leave at once!”

Jennam drew his sword. “Lord Geber, His Highness the King has ordered his knights to make sure you comply with his edict. We have given you all winter to obey. But if you won’t do it willingly, it is within my right to force you.”

“You cannot force him!” But the overseer that had charged toward Jennam hesitated, staring at the glint of light on the sharp sword blade in Jennam’s hands. It reflected in the sun streams shining through the barn slats in the walls.

“If you do not comply now, His Highness has ordered that we return with an army and strip those that disobey of their lands,” Jennam said. “Would you prefer that?”

Shuddering, Lord Geber shook his head. “No. I will comply.”

“My lord! He’s just one man!” shouted the overseer, reaching for the sword at his fellow’s side. That other man had been staring at Jennam as if he had forgotten he was also wearing a weapon. However when he felt the sword pull from its sheath he jerked his eyes to his associate in terror.

“Are you crazy?” That man slapped the sword from the overseer’s grip. “That’s Sir Jennam Etham, one of the deadliest swordsmen in Hebaron!”

The overseer pulled back. He stared hard at Jennam who relaxed some. “Him? He’s just a boy.”

Jennam looked to the ceiling with disgust.

That moment the overseer drew out his friend’s sword again, swinging right at the king’s man.

Jennam blocked.

The man struck again, though this time the king’s man parried, dodged and then swiped his blade, dislodging the weapon from the overseer’s grip as if it had been a mere toy.

Lifting the point of his sword to the overseer’s throat, Jennam said, “If you wish to die today, then continued to oppose me. But if you want to live, you will leave this building immediately.”

He gave the man room to go, gesturing with his head.

The overseer looked to Lord Geber.

The nobleman urged him with his eyes to flee. Sullenly, the overseer retreated through the open door.

Jennam then turned to face the lord of the land once more. “Now, I can assume that these people here are the bulk of your slaves?”

Lord Geber nodded weakly, peering at Jennam’s sword as the king’s man sheathed it next to another one at his hip. It had been good quality steel, one of the king’s own, obviously given to the man to match his fighting skills.

“We’ll confirm that to make sure,” Jennam said. He then gestured to the door. “Sir Jotham Derrit is at the manor house, as I’m sure you know. Hopefully he and Sir Beten Noah have found your records. We’ll also be going over the taxes you have paid under the rule of High Chancellor Oparah.”

“Taxes?” Lord Geber set a hand to his head. “Is the king intending to drain me of all my profits?”

Jennam gave him a hard look. “The king only intends to straighten out the mess the former high chancellor allowed these past twenty years.”

“But how can I bring in a crop without slaves?” Lord Geber plaintively asked. He was wringing his hands, glancing at the crowd of people who were staring at Jennam as if they didn’t know what to make of him. Most of them shivered, pulling their arms closer to their bodies for warmth.

Jennam’s expression eased as if he were tired and merely talking to a fool. “Haven’t you ever heard of hiring your workers? The northern plantations of Shindon Manor and Skidders Manor have long been using hired hands.”

But that only made Lord Geber cringe. “But at what pay? They’ll bleed me dry.”

“You don’t know what hard work or pain is,” Jennam replied acidly, his looks darkening again. “You give equal compensation for the work done. His Highness has already calculated and sent you the lowest payment level accepted for farmhands in the edict. If you want to retain your workers, you pay them.” He then looked at the overseer’s whip. “And you don’t beat them.”

Several of the slaves looked up. They glanced to their fellows with disbelief that anyone was saying what Jennam was saying. Some of them peered at Jennam to make sure he wasn’t just a lunatic that was frightening their lord.

“Ah! There you are!” Jotham walked into the barn, giving a glance at all the slaves sitting on the straw. “And they’re nearly all assembled. Great. That makes it easier. Beten, bring the book.”

“I tried to stop them, sir,” the lord’s man hurried in after them, cringing at the mud on his shoes. He then looked up at Jennam with a deeper expression of disgust. “My apologies. I have failed you.”

Lord Geber waved it away, stepping around his overseer to his man. His shoulders drooped. “No. It was futile attempt anyway.”

Jotham raised his eyebrows with a look to Jennam who accepted the ledger from Beten. He then glanced back at the lord of that land who was taking out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopping his brow. The stress had caused the wealthy landowner to sweat, a strange sight considering everyone else in the room was shivering from the cold.

Jennam opened the book, squinting in the dim light to read the writing. He flipped a few pages, trying to hold the book up higher in the light. As he did, Beten chuckled, lifting his hand.

“Here.” Beten snapped his fingers and opened his palm. A soft yellow light suddenly appeared as if from his fingertips, swirling around into a sphere.

Every one of the slaves gasped, staring up at it. Though, Jennam emitted a small laugh and lowered the book to a more comfortable position.

“Some day you have got to teach me how to do that,” Jennam murmured. He looked to the page.

“Soul light,” someone murmured.

“He could be the king,” someone else said in a whisper to his neighbor.

Every one of the locals stared at Beten who stood as an unimposing figure next to Jennam who started to read the page with a serious eye. Beten ignored them, waiting for Jennam to finish reading.

Jennam lifted his eyes from the page and called out, “Which one of you is Ezer?”

The slaves glanced among themselves as murmurs ran through them. Then a middle-aged man stood up, glancing at the overseer first. “I am.”

Jennam waved him to come forward. “It says here you sold yourself into slavery over thirty years ago. What was the fee you sold yourself for?”

Ezer glanced at his lord.

Lord Geber closed his eyes with a tired moan.

The slave said as he shuffled across the floor, “For fifty in gold. My family was starving. I—”

“I don’t care about your reasons,” Jennam said. He then lowered his eyes to the page. “I want you all to realize that under the king’s edict indentured servitude has been outlawed. You can no longer sell yourself or your children into slavery. According to this, Lord Geber also bought two of your children.”

Shuddering, Ezer stepped back from Jennam.

“The king does not approve of such practices.” Jennam lifted his eyes again with a piercing glare. “So I want to make it clear that even if you are free today and your children will be freed, you are no longer allowed to sell any one of them if you are to go into debt once more. Understand?”

“The punishment for selling your children into slavery would be prison,” Beten added.

Ezer the slave turned his eyes to the man making the glowing light. Giving a solemn nod, he backed up. “Yes, sir.”

Jennam turned to Lord Geber, but did not let go of the book. “Alright, I want all of these men counted and their term of slavery marked in the ledger we brought for the king’s accounting. If you intend to keep them on as paid workers, we are to negotiate salary now. Those that do not wish to work for you will be set free to choose their paths.”

“If any of them are harmed on their way,” Jotham added, leaning in toward the lord, “you will be held accountable.”

“I’m doomed,” Lord Geber muttered, turning his head towards the south with glare as if to condemn the king.

*

“I think that went rather well,” Jotham said as they rode from the village three days later.

He grinned at Jennam who was mimicking Beten, drawing light from the palm of his hand into the shape of a glowing sphere.

Blinking, Jotham then shook his head.

“Beten, they think you’re the king because you did that,” Jotham said.

Beten glanced up at him and smirked. “What? For making a little light? You can do it too, you know.”

“I have never—” Jotham started to protest, but Jennam’s laughter cut him off. Jotham stared at his friend, scandalized.

“Oh, and that sword of yours doesn’t glow red when you hold it?” Jennam closed his hand on the ball of white light, making it vanish. “I bet you can access your soul light easy. Better than most of us. They’ll think you’re the king more than anyone else.”

Jotham gave Jennam a dry look. “You know that is just the sword’s magic. It draws out my light. I’m not like Beten, or for that matter, you.”

“But you can be.” Jennam grinned at him.

Shaking his head, Jotham rode on.

They traveled down a southeasterly road through the forest towards their last destination before they would head to the knights’ meeting, watching the young leaves uncurled spreading light-green all over the forest’s bare boughs. Mostly Jotham and Jennam talked about the things they had to do once they returned to the palace after their meeting with the others. The king had a few words he wanted to say to them all before sending them out again on errand and going on his way as well. At the palace, Jotham and Jennam had to meet the new recruits for the king’s army that Sir Derrit, Jotham’s father, had been gathering.

“I don’t get it,” Jennam said as he continued the ride on the second day from Geber Manor after just breaking camp. “Do they really believe that the king is not going to act on the things he has said? I am sure the former king, Rekem Wreden, wasn’t one to sit back. Why would they think his son would?”

Jotham shrugged, sitting high in his saddle. “Maybe they just don’t want to believe it. You know the old saying: old habits die hard. They have been living this way for twenty years.”

“You know, the former king also had troubles with them,” Beten said with a nod. He shifted his hold on his reins, always feeling uncomfortable in his hands. “That’s why the kingdom was divided into loyalists and non-loyalists.”

Jennam let out a tired moan. “I know. I know. I guess I just didn’t want to see it, especially in the north. You’d think living near the Dergit border they would be more loyal, realizing how much they needed the king’s protection.”

Silently, they agreed.

After a while Beten asked, “Will the king wish for us to go out again in our territories leading the armies to the ones that have refused to comply to the edict, or will he send others in our stead?”

“What?” Jotham looked over to him with a chuckle, urging his horse forward as it had slowed down some. “Are you nervous about going back?”

Beten’s looks darkened. “No.”

Jennam smirked, glancing at the exchanged. “I’m sure that if you are uncomfortable with it, the king would allow you to step aside and perform other errands for him. Maybe teach the others to access their soul light. That would please him.”

“It would?” Beten immediately brightened up.

Nodding as Jotham hid another laugh, Jennam said, “Of course. His Highness would like it if you especially taught Lord Allon, Lord Remnon, and Jotham here. They are the ones with the most potential, right?”

“I can see it clear enough,” Beten said with a nod. He then peered at Jennam’s, especially his face. “And have you been practicing seeing?”

Closing his eyes briefly with a sigh, Jennam nodded. “Yes. I can see most colors in soul light clearly now. And since you taught me, I was also thinking that you could teach the yellows of our group to see the soul light in people as well. It would be very useful to have more eyes out there.”

“You are supposed to say, His Highness would like,” Jotham said.

Setting a hand to his forehead, Jennam nodded, “Yes. You’re right. His Highness would like it.”

Beten shared a look with Jotham. They rode on once more in silence, though Jennam broke it by asking if they wanted to rest their horses for a while. They had been riding for a few hours straight by then. Jennam’s concern for the horses aside, they agreed to it since they were also saddle sore.

As Beten slid off his horse’s saddle and landed with firm feet on the ground, he abruptly stiffened, glancing down the path to the south. Jennam dropped off his horse that same time and perked up his head also, turning to look where Beten was looking.

Jotham climbed off. “Jennam, I—”

Unexpectedly, Beten lunged in front of Jennam. The very same moment an arrow struck him in the chest.

Beten collapsed against Jennam.

Jennam shouted, pulling Beten away from the next arrow that flew. It struck the ground. Immediately seven men in masks, bandits by the look of their clothes and the weeds tied to them as camouflage, ran at them with their swords raised.

Jennam drew one of his swords. Jotham took out his blade, an ancient two-handed sword that glowed red the moment he gripped it in his hands. Already flames rippled over the sharp blade. That was enough to make the bandits halt a pace. However they soon jumped back in to finish their kill.

 

“Beten!” Jennam screamed when the fighting was over. Dead lay around them. He cradled his fellow knight in his arms, feeling the arrow that stuck out of Beten’s chest as his friend gasped for breath.

“Can you get it out?” Jotham bent over them, peering at Beten’s white face and blue lips.

“I don’t know.” Jennam grasped the arrow’s shaft. “I think it punctured his lung. He’s bleeding inside.”

“Can you heal him?” Crouching down next to them, Jotham looked into Jennam’s face.

Shaking his head, Jennam clenched his teeth. “I never learned that. I can still barely handle the light inside me.”

“But it’s in you, right?” Jotham frowned, peering at Beten’s face.

Beten turned his eyes to Jennam. He smiled. “Good. You’re alive.”

“You shouldn’t have used your soul light in front of those people, Beten,” Jotham said, cringing. “Now they think you’re the king.”

“They weren’t…aiming…for me,” Beten said, gasping.

Jennam blinked back tears, shaking his head and clenching his teeth.

“I’m sorry.” Beten gave another weak smile. “I…guess…I can’t…teach…the others…how to—”

“Don’t talk,” Jennam said, looking desperately over Beten’s body. “I’ll save you. I’ll try and heal you. I have it in me somewhere.”

Beten chuckled. “I’m a dead man. Don’t bother.”

“No!” Jennam grasped the arrow to pull it out.

But Beten set his hand on Jennam’s. “It…has been…an honor…to serve you…”

“No, Beten! Don’t die!” Clenching the arrow shaft, Jennam’s hand immediately glowed white. The shaft disintegrated under his touch, turning to dust even as his own body radiated white light.

“…my king.” Beten’s head dropped back, his eyes rolling closed.

“No!”

Chapter Two: Unwanted Visitors

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“My liege, I’ve come to report.”

In the center of the rug in a high lord’s study, knelt a man dressed in a dark brown and green with a mask to cover his face. Only a slit for his eyes allowed him to see out.

The lord of the land just southeast of Geber gazed out the window with his chest high. His hands rested contemplatively behind his back. He exhaled hard as he turned to look down at the man. “Your excuse better be good. I heard that Sir Jotham Derrit and Sir Jennam Etham rode into the village this morning—still alive and still intending to visit the manor.”

The assassin bowed his head lower. “My apologies. It turned out the rumors of their strength had been understated.”

“You had eight men together! More than enough for three—”

“My liege, one had a flaming sword and the other was quicker than I have ever seen a man swordfight.” Bowing his head lower, the assassin added, “I am the only survivor.”

Blinking to bat away the notion from his thoughts, the lord lifted his chin and looked out the window again. “They killed all of my assassins?”

The assassin gave a nod. “Yes, my liege.”

“Which one of the pair is the most dangerous?” the lord asked, not removing his eyes from the garden where his servants had been busily setting up for the weeklong party he had been planning for months. It was spring, and the flowers had finally started to bloom. It was time to celebrate, not mourn. The arrival of the king’s men was indeed a cause for mourning.

“Most dangerous, my liege?” The assassin lifted his gaze. “I cannot say. The captain of the king’s private guard has a deadly power with that sword of his. He killed three of the men by setting them on fire. But that king’s advisor had slain the other four with ease without even a lick of magic.”

“You were supposed to kill him first,” the lord turned and glared at him, “with an arrow in the back.”

“We had tried to kill the king’s advisor first as you ordered, but a different man was traveling with them than the last time we saw them, and he got in the way.” The assassin frowned, shaking his head. “He had a sixth sense, as if he could see us before we revealed ourselves.”

Kicking the leg of the desk, the lord growled. “Killing one of them will only make the others angry and suspicious. Now you must work doubly hard to eliminate those men.”

“I can recruit help to attack them on the road once they leave,” the assassin said.

The lord shook his head. “No. I want you to pick them off separately and subtlety. Together they are obviously too much for you. Take the jar with the shadow imp inside. Wait for when one is alone on the grounds to use it. If I have not managed to have them poisoned in the meantime, you had better come through.”

The assassin bowed. “Yes, my liege.”

As he ducked out of the room, a young woman sauntered in. The skirts of her rose colored gown rustled crisply as she looked back, tossing her curls and turning up her chin. She then looked to her father, Lord Rezeph Haddon, pursing her lips before speaking.

She folded her arms. “Father, what is he doing here?”

“Business, my darling.” The gentleman walked over and kissed her on the forehead. “Now what is the matter that has sent you all the way up here to see me? You were supposed to be meeting our guests in the parlor.”

Lord Haddon’s daughter huffed, tightening her fingers on her arms. She cocked her head to one side. “The matter? Father, the matter is that the servants have yet to finish in the garden. Lord Giddal and his brothers are aching to go out and admire the yard. He has promised a game of boules.”

Sighing aloud, Lord Haddon patted his daughter on the shoulder. “Dear sweet Vashti, my darling, please go and entertain your guests a little longer with patience.”

She rolled her eyes but stepped back towards the door. “Fine. But don’t blame me if the other ladies and lords say that our spring welcoming party was a complete bore. The whole point of a garden party is to be out in the garden.”

He chuckled as she started off, but then paused, calling out to her. “Vashti, one moment, please, before you go. I have just learned that two of the king’s men will be staying with us for the next few days. I would like it if you would invite them to the party.”

Vashti stopped and turned. Her face flushed pink as her eyes lit up. “King’s men? You mean, men of the king’s private guard?”

Lord Haddon nodded.

Letting a smile replace her sour look, Vashti nodded. “It would be my pleasure to invite two of the king’s men to our party. To have two of those elite among us would certainly improve the atmosphere.”

“I must warn you, though,” Lord Haddon said before she could go further. “One of their companions has just died on the road coming here, so they will be out of sorts. They will need cheering up.”

She gave another nod. With a swish of her skirts, she was gone, her heels clicking against the stone and going fainter as she went further into the house. Listening to her footfalls as they disappeared, her father then walked out of the study to where his head of the household stood outside the door.

“There will be two of the king’s knights coming here shortly. Be cooperative and give them the east guest room. Accommodate their every comfort, and make sure their horses are well cared for. I want them relaxed when they are here.”

“Should I say you were expecting them?” the head of the household asked, patiently waiting the answer.

Lord Haddon set his hand to his mouth to think then said, “No. Or rather, say I did not expect them to arrive in time for the spring party, and that they are welcome to join in the festivities.”

“Yes, sir,” the head of household replied.

“And send the cook to me right away.” Lord Haddon turned to wave him off. “I would like to add some dishes to the menu for tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, sir.” The head of the household bowed and departed.

Watching him go, Lord Haddon drew in a breath and exhaled, nodding to himself.

“I’m asking you one more time, where is your village undertaker located?” Jennam glared hard at the fat village miller who had been staring wordlessly at him from the moment his eyes set on Beten whom the knights had carried over the back of his horse to his mill nearly an hour ago.

The man thumbed down the street, still saying nothing.

It didn’t help that Jennam’s coat front was stained with blood, or that his hands and face were smeared with it. Jennam’s eyes were red with bags under them, his forehead throbbing and his hair sticking up from pulling at it. Jotham only looked a little better, dirty and frazzled with only flecks of blood and a bruise on his face. It was clear they had been in a fight.

“Can’t you speak?” Jennam looked likely to draw one of his swords and run the miller through with it.

A goose girl jogged up from her gaggle, pointing down the street also. Her arms shook as she said, “The undertaker is down that way. You can’t miss his shop. Grave monuments stand outside it.”

Jennam turned to look at her, blinking. He then nodded with a turn. “Thank you.”

“Is that your friend?” she asked.

The miller and the others turned their heads to look at her, so brave…or perhaps foolhardy. No one had been able to speak, terrified by the sight of the bloody knights.

Jennam set a hand to his head, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

“We were waylaid by bandits on the road,” Jotham said, stepping forward to take hold of the horse reins, though he also rested his hand on Jennam’s shoulder to urge him on. “One got away.”

“One got away?” Several murmured, staring at the pair as they walked their horses back into the roadway.

“How many were there?” someone else asked.

But the two king’s men headed towards the undertaker’s without answering.

As it was in most villages they had gone to, it was like being in a parade—only this one was morose, with the lead man looking more at the ground as they led the dead behind them. People stared after them, several murmuring about how Lubnanese they looked. Many whispered with wonder at whom they might be. The reputations of the king’s men had already spread throughout the land

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 01.04.2017
ISBN: 978-3-7438-5733-9

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