Harshini

in Krakandar.”

“It was,” Damin agreed. “But somehow the messages got mixed up and the Defenders thought I'd left orders for them to move south. The irony of it all,” he added with a laugh, “was the reason they got there so damned quickly. Denjon and Linst were so furious that I'd left such high-handed orders, they pushed their men south as fast as they could move, just so they could tell me off.”

R'shiel laughed and glanced up at Mikel. She accepted the cup and turned back to Damin and Adrina. “I wish I could have seen the look on your face when you realised the Defenders had come to your rescue. How did the rest of your Warlords take it? It must have irked them no end.”

“By the time the Defenders arrived, I think they would have accepted help from just about anybody,” Adrina told her with a smile. “They'd already had to swallow their pride and accept my brother's help, but grateful though they seemed, I think the Defenders were like rubbing salt into an open wound.”

R'shiel chuckled and lifted the cup to her lips. Mikel had remained standing behind her. His eyes were wide, his body tense.

“R'shiel! No!”

Brak threw himself across the low table, knocking the cup from her hand before she could take a swallow. Adrina screamed. R'shiel was thrown backwards by the force of his sudden weight and struggled to push him away, more startled than frightened. Damin was on his feet, his sword in his hand before Brak had rolled clear. Mikel froze with panic for a moment then ran for the entrance. Still on his hands and knees, Brak reached out and snatched at the boy's ankle, bringing the child down. Mikel cried out in protest, but Brak's vice-like grip allowed him no escape. Damin stepped over the cushions and picked up the discarded cup, sniffing it suspiciously.

“Jarabane,” he said. “It's poisoned.” He hurled the cup to the ground then he turned his attention to the boy.

Mikel was stretched out face-down on the floor of the tent, trying to kick his way free, but unable to escape while Brak held him.

Damin nodded to Brak, who released him as Damin grabbed the child by his shirt and hauled him to his feet. He pressed the point of his sword into Mikel's neck.

“Damin! No!” Adrina cried, reading the murderous look in her husband's eyes. “He's a child!”

“He's an assassin,” Damin corrected.

Brak climbed to his feet, offering R'shiel his hand to help her up, and they exchanged a worried glance. There was no trace of humour left in the High Prince, and no trace of mercy.

“Damin, Brak and I need to take care of this,” R'shiel said. She sounded calm and reasonable, just as aware as Brak that at that moment, Damin was dangerously close to - and more than capable of - cold-blooded murder.

“This child is a member of my household. He tried to kill a guest under my roof. Even if you weren't the demon child, R'shiel, the penalty for such a crime is death.”

Mikel had not uttered a sound. He was paralysed with fear. A small trickle of blood oozed from his neck where Damin held the point of his sword with his right hand, his left gripping the boy by his shoulder.

“If you kill him, Damin, we won't be able to question him.”

“What's to question? The child is Karien. He obviously follows the Overlord. What more do you need to know?”

R'shiel turned to Brak, her eyes silently begging him to reason with him.

“We need to know why he turned from Dacendaran,” Brak added. “The God of Thieves took a personal interest in this boy, and somehow he's been subverted. I don't want to interfere with your idea of justice, Damin, but if you harm that boy before we have a chance to talk with him, you'll regret it.”

Damin glared at Brak. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes, Damin,” he replied softly. “That's exactly what I'm doing.”

For a moment, Brak wondered if that had been a wise thing to do. He may have just said the one thing guaranteed to push Damin beyond reason. For a long, tense moment, the High Prince stared at Brak defiantly, then he lowered the sword and thrust Mikel at Brak.

“You have an hour, Brak. Ask him what you want, do what you want. But in one hour that child dies for what he's done. R'shiel, I hope you will forgive this grievous insult.” He sheathed his sword as Brak caught the boy who was shaking so badly he could barely stand. “Oh, and by the way, don't think to leave this camp with him,” he added with an icy glare at Brak. “If you do, I will simply turn around and go home. I'll call off my Warlords, and the Medalonians can face the Kariens on their own and to hell with them.”

Damin strode out of the tent without another word. Brak pushed Mikel down onto the cushions and looked over at Adrina.

“Can you talk him out of this?”

She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. I've never seen him so angry.”

“You've got an hour, Adrina,” R'shiel pointed out coldly.

The Princess nodded. “I'll do what I can, but he may not listen to me. I was the one who brought Mikel here.”

“Then you'd better do something about keeping him alive, hadn't you?” the demon child said unsympathetically.

CHAPTER 55

The God of Thieves appeared at R'shiel's summons, although he looked rather put out by the call. R'shiel had told Brak that Kalianah thought Dace was sulking about something and he wondered if the reason had been Mikel.

The child was a study in abject despair. He sat huddled on the cushions, his knees drawn up under his chin, tears streaming silently down his face. He had said nothing. In the warm glow of the candlelight he was an island of misery and dejection.

“What do you want, demon child?” Dacendaran asked sullenly as he materialised behind R'shiel.

“What's the matter with you?” she demanded as she spun around to face him. Although she knew he was a god, R'shiel had known Dace as a simple thief in the Grimfield first, and she often made the mistake of still thinking of him that way. Brak wished she were a little more cautious. He might look cute and adorable and wear an air of guileless innocence, but Dacendaran was still a god, and a powerful one at that.

“I'm busy,” Dace muttered, scuffing the rug with a boot that did not match the other he wore.

“I want to know what happened to Mikel.”

“You stole him from me,” Dace accused with a petulant scowl.

“I stole him from you? Don't be ridiculous! I'm not a god! How could I steal him?”

“You gave him to Gimlorie.”

“Oh,” R'shiel said, suddenly looking guilty. “That.”

Brak glanced at R'shiel for a moment and then looked at Mikel. “Why did you give him to the God of Music?”

“I needed to make sure the Kariens would leave, so I asked Gimlorie to help.”

“What exactly did you do, R'shiel?” Brak asked suspiciously.

“I asked him to teach Mikel a song that would instil an irresistible longing for home in the Kariens. I knew it might be a little bit... dangerous... so I asked Gimlorie to make his brother Jaymes his Guardian. That way, if he got lost in the song, Jaymes would be there to pull him back.”

Brak muttered a curse. “R'shiel, have you any idea what you've done? A Guardian is only effective if he's in touch with his ward. Once Jaymes left his side Mikel was vulnerable to this sort of manipulation.”

“Hey, how come suddenly this is all my fault? He tried to kill me!”