Treason Keep

There were a disconcerting number of lords and ladies in attendance in the vast outer chamber, standing around the tall, potted palms in jewelled clusters like beetles around scattered honey drops. They stared at her as she strode past, their expressions ranging from smug humour to simmering anger. Even the slaves wore expressions of intense interest, as they manned the large fans that moved the humid air around, but did little to cool the oppressive heat.

She did not wait for permission to enter, but marched straight up to the delicately carved sandalwood doors of her father’s office. The guards opened them as she approached. Turon was forced into an undignified run to catch her so that he could enter the chamber first to announce her arrival. Two steps ahead of the Chamberlain, she ordered the guards to close the doors behind her, and was gratified to hear Turon’s indignant yelp as the obliging guards slammed the doors in his face.

Hablet looked up as she entered and smiled. That was not a good sign. The King was prone to violent outbursts when enraged, which usually dissipated as quickly as they started. But he was beyond anger now and into a quiet rage that manifested itself in a deceptively calm demeanour.

She had only ever seen him this angry once before. That time, her bastard half-brothers Tristan and Gaffen had stolen the statue of Jelanna, the Goddess of Fertility from the Goddess’ Temple and mounted it on the roof of the most notorious brothel in Talabar. She had half-expected Hablet to kill them when he learnt of their escapade. Her father was sly, dishonest and opportunistic, but he was very devout. He was also desperate for a legitimate son, certain that his baseborn sons’ jests would make Jelanna strike him impotent as a punishment for their disrespect. He need not have worried. Hablet had sired another half-dozen or more children since then, although he still did not have the legitimate son he craved. Maybe that was Jelanna’s revenge.

“Adrina,” Hablet said through his dangerous smile.

“Daddy...”

“Don’t you ‘daddy’ me, young lady.” This was worse than she thought.

“I can explain...”

“You can explain, can you?” Hablet asked, picking up a sheath of parchment from his gilded desk. The sunlight streamed in from the tall open windows, catching the gilt and reflecting it painfully back in her eyes. There were no chairs in the room other than the seat that the King occupied, so she had no choice but to stand in front of him like an errant slave. “Explain what exactly, my dear? How do you explain this bill I have from Lord Hergelat for seven hundred gold lucats? It seems you sank his yacht. Or this one?” he added, holding up another leaf from the pile on the desk in front of him. “Lord Brendle claims you ran his dhow aground, too. He wants twelve hundred lucats. And then of course, Lady Pralton wants compensation because Lord Brendle’s dhow was carrying a load of her vintage wine, which is now sitting at the bottom of the harbour, making a lot of fish rather happy, I imagine. Not to mention the twenty-eight injured slaves manning the oars of the Wave Warrior when you rammed the dock. Captain Wendele estimates the damage to the Wave Warrior to be between five and six thousand lucats.”

He threw the bills on the desk. “As for the dock, it will take the engineers a week or more to work out what that will cost to repair, assuming they can find a way to get the Wave Warrior off it, without dismantling the whole damned structure! Would you care to hear what the Merchant Guilds are claiming they’ll lose with the main wharf out of commission?” Hablet’s voice had been growing steadily louder as he spoke, until he was shouting at her. She cringed, although more from the effect it had on her hangover, than for fear of him.

“But Daddy —”

“A party!” he yelled. “It’s the Feast of Kaelarn, Daddy, and we want to have a party! I said you could have a damned party, Adrina. I didn’t say you could ruin me!”

Now he was exaggerating. Even the staggering cost of her escapade would not dent Hablet’s enormous wealth. “I haven’t ruined you, Father, I–”

“As if I don’t have enough problems! I’ve got the damned Hythrun allying with Medalon. I’m at an extremely delicate point in my negotiations with the Karien Crown Prince...”

Now that’s a lie, Adrina thought impatiently. The Kariens wanted Hablet’s cannon, and access to the Fardohnyan Gulf through the port at Solanndy Bay, which her father controlled. They were prepared to put up with quite a bit to get what they wanted. What Hablet really meant was that he had just raised the price again.

With the unexpected alliance of Hythria and Medalon, and the certain invasion of Medalon by the Kariens to avenge the death of their Envoy, Hablet’s eyes had lit up with glee, thinking of the profit to be made. The Karien army was vast and even with the aid of the Warlord of Krakandar, the Defenders were sadly outnumbered. With the promise of the new weapons from Fardohnya – Adrina doubted her father had any intention of actually delivering them – Karien would be invincible. That left Hablet with two almost unheard-of opportunities. Not only could he demand vast amounts of timber from the Kariens to sustain his fleets, but while Medalon was occupied with the Kariens, Hythria lay open – all but undefended along its northern border.

Hablet cared nothing for Medalon, but the prospect of taking on the Hythrun was very tempting. The origins of the feud between Fardohnya and Hythria were lost in antiquity, but in recent years had much to do with the fact that the vast majority of the Fardohnyan fleet was engaged in acts of piracy, and the rich Hythrun traders were their favourite targets.

This latest, ill-advised deal with the Kariens was doomed to failure, Adrina thought. No amount of tall timber, iron ore, gold, or anything else the resource-rich Kariens could offer made it worth dealing with a nation of mindless fanatics. The Hythrun might be arrogant and belligerent, their High Prince might be a degenerate old pervert, but at least they believed in the same gods.

“... and now, thanks to your irresponsible recklessness, I have half the nobles in Talabar asking for your head! What possessed you to think you knew how to sail my flagship!”

Adrina realised with a start that she had not been listening to him.

“I didn’t think...”

“Well that’s pretty bloody obvious!” Hablet sagged back in his chair, as if his tirade had exhausted him. He scratched at his beard and glared at her. “Who else was involved in this fiasco?”

For a moment, Adrina nobly considered taking the entire blame for this disaster upon her own shoulders. It had been her idea, after all. She quickly decided against it. From his expression, she could tell that her father probably knew everything and lying would simply make things worse.

“Tristan,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly, even though the miserable coward deserved to be implicated for abandoning her.

“And...?” Hablet prompted impatiently.

“And Cassandra.”

“Ah, Cassandra,” Hablet repeated with a dangerous smile. “I was wondering when we’d get around to her.”

“She wasn’t on the boat when it... when the accident occurred,” Adrina pointed out cautiously. Cassie had been a reluctant accomplice to the caper, and Adrina felt honour bound to defend her younger sister.

“I’m aware of that,” Hablet said evenly. “Do you know where she was?”

“She came back to the Palace.” Adrina wondered if Cassie had actually done what she promised, or had found further mischief out of sight of her older siblings.

“Oh, Cassandra came back to the Palace, all right,” Hablet agreed. “In fact, Cassandra was so drunk that she decided it would be a good idea to find out what sort of lover her fiance was. She sneaked into his rooms and tried to seduce him like an alley whore and now the whole damned Karien delegation is threatening to call off the deal. How could you do this to me?”

The news did not surprise Adrina. Cassandra was a passionate young woman who had been talking about nothing else but the visiting Karien Prince all week.

“Cassie didn’t mean any harm...”

“I don’t care if she was on a mission from the gods!” Hablet shouted. “The Kariens are mortified. They think I’m trying to foist a whore on them. I offered them my most beautiful daughter as a bride and now they think I’m trying to get rid of a wanton hussy. They’re ready to set sail on the next tide.”

Adrina glared at her father impatiently. “Well, what did you expect, Father? Cassie was never cut out to be