Harshini

heir?” Hablet laughed scornfully. “I don't know what's funnier - that she thinks she can dictate to me, or that you actually thought I would listen to you.”

“You'd better listen to me, Hablet,” Brak warned. “There will be no legitimate son for you. Your heir will be as the law decrees - it will be Damin Wolfblade.”

“Over my dead body!”

“Exactly,” Brak pointed out simply.

“I'd rather give my crown to that simpering Karien idiot Adrina married than name that Hythrun barbarian my heir.”

“That might prove difficult,” Brak murmured, but Hablet wasn't listening to him.

“Anyway, you're mad if you think the people of Fardohnya would ever accept a Hythrun King!”

“They would accept a Fardohnyan Queen.”

“Oh! So now you want him to marry one of my daughters, I suppose!”

“No need,” Brak said, with a smug smile. “The demon child has already taken care of that minor detail.”

Hablet stilled warily. “What do you mean by that?”

“Ah, now those would be the circumstances I spoke of,” Brak said, brushing a fleck of dust from his yellow silk trousers as he deliberately drew out the silence.

“What circumstances?” Hablet demanded.

“Cratyn is dead, Your Majesty. Your daughter has remarried.”

“Remarried? Who?”

“Perhaps you'd like to hazard a guess?” he suggested. He was rather enjoying Hablet's discomfort.

“No!” the King cried, leaping to his feet, his face almost as crimson as the silk- panelled walls. “I'll not tolerate this! I'll disown her! Damn it, I'll invade Hythria and bring her back!”

“Your House is now united with the House of Wolfblade. You will honour the peace between your Houses and do no such thing. As the Wolfblade House is the ruling House in Hythria, it is now beyond your reach. You can't invade them and you can't make war on them.”

“This is intolerable!”

Brak smiled serenely. “I'm sure you'll learn to live with it.”

“Get out! Get out of my palace! Get out of my country, for that matter! Take your damned Harshini manipulations and your demon child and get the hell out of Fardohnya!”

Brak drew on enough power to blacken his eyes again, rose to his feet and loomed over the Fardohnyan King.

“You will abide by the law. You will name Damin Wolfblade your heir and you will give your blessing to his marriage to Adrina.”

“Never!”

“Then be prepared for the consequences, Your Majesty,” Brak warned. “You defy the demon child at your peril.”

CHAPTER 20

It was obvious that Cyrus Eaglespike and his cronies were in control of Greenharbour. The streets, while not exactly deserted, were unnaturally free of the normal bustle of commerce that one would expect in the greatest trading port in the south. There were no soldiers from the Sorcerers' Collective in evidence and no sign of the Palace Guard either. Although the guards made no move to prevent Damin and his force entering the sparkling white city, their breastplates were embossed with a soaring eagle.

R'shiel looked around with interest. She rode at Damin's side at the head of a column made up of three centuries of Krakandar Raiders. Narvell Hawksword followed Damin's men with three hundred Elasapine Raiders, while further back, Rogan Bearbow rode at the head of his own entourage. Between them they had brought close to a thousand men south to claim the High Prince's throne. Adrina was riding in the coach a little further back in the column with Princess Marla. She had refused to ride since Krakandar, although she declined to give a reason. Damin was convinced it was simply to make things more difficult for him. R'shiel knew the reason but figured it wasn't her place to say. Besides, she had promised Marla she would say nothing yet. No doubt Adrina was being subjected to her mother-in-law's intense scrutiny as they travelled together. R'shiel wondered with a faint smile just who would emerge the victor from that small, but important, skirmish.

“This doesn't look promising,” Damin murmured.

“Who normally guards the city?” R'shiel asked with a glance over her shoulder at the wary guards who fingered their sheathed blades with itching fingers as they passed through the city gates.

“The Collective.”

The further they rode into the city, the more deserted the streets became. News of the arrival of the Warlords of Krakandar, Elasapine and Izcomdar ran before them like flame on a line of lamp oil and the citizens of Greenharbour wisely kept to their homes, out of the way of a confrontation that was likely to get very ugly.

“Damin, I may not be a tactical genius, but is this a good idea? Riding openly through Greenharbour when you know your cousin has claimed the throne?”

He shrugged. “Greenharbour is neutral territory.”

“Nine hundred Raiders isn't very many.”

“That's all I'm permitted to bring into the city. Three centuries for every Warlord, no more. It's the law.”

“The law didn't stop your cousin claiming the throne. What makes you think it's going to stop him breaking the rules about the number of troops he can muster in the city?”

“I can't risk marching into Greenharbour openly flaunting the law. It would be playing right into Cyrus' hands. Besides, you won't let anything happen to me.”

“You're relying on my power to save you? Adrina was right, you do enjoy living dangerously, don't you?”

“Adrina said that, did she?”

“Yes.”

“What else did she say?”

R'shiel rolled her eyes impatiently. “Why don't you ask her?”

“I'm asking you.”

“You're a damned fool, Damin Wolfblade.”

He did not answer her; did not have a chance to. She stilled suddenly, her whole body tensing as the familiar prickle of magic ran over her skin like a million tiny ants wearing hobnailed boots.

“What's wrong?” Damin asked, watching her curiously.

“Someone is drawing power. A lot of it.” Her face was a mask of concentration as she tried to pinpoint the source. Finally she stood in her stirrups, looking out over the white, flat-roofed houses and then pointed towards the harbour. “It's coming from that direction.”

“The harbour?”

“No. I don't think so. But close to it.”

“Then it's probably the Sorcerers' Collective you sense. Perhaps it's some of the sorcerers —”

“No!” she declared emphatically. “What I can feel isn't someone chanting spells. This is Harshini.”

Damin shrugged. “That would mean it was one of the Harshini who returned to the Collective last winter. I doubt it's anything to be concerned about. If it's Harshini magic you can sense, then they're bound to be on our side.”

She sat down again and looked at him. “How do you figure that?”

“You are the demon child. You ride with me.”

“You don't understand, Damin. This isn't one Harshini drawing their power that I can feel. It's several of them and they are drawing every drop they can handle.”