'No,' said a voice.
And Yerzerdayla stepped into the room, entering by way of one of the service doors.
'Yen Olass is right,' said Yerzerdayla. 'You must not kill the child. To do so would be a gratuitous murder.’
Celadric straightened up. He was sorely annoyed.
'The oracle betrayed the empire. She should feel the weight of the empire's punishment.’
'Then burn her alive,' said Yerzerdayla, who could not reasonably plead for mercy for a traitor. 'But spare the child. Or does your hold on the empire depend on your ability to murder children?’
'If you're so concerned about the child then you can have it,' said Celadric.
'Thank you,' said Yerzerdayla, with a small bow.
'Providing, that is,' said Celadric, 'that you can find a man prepared to support you and the child thereafter. A man who will guarantee to protect the empire from the child if it should prove to be a dralkosh.’
And he looked around the banqueting hall.
'Well? Which man speaks for the woman and the child? Not you, Losh Negis! You're not a man! You're half way to being a woman already! Throw him out of here!’
The Ondrask was hustled out of the hall.
'You're not being fair,' said Yen Olass. 'You don't want to give your father's child a chance to survive.’
And, with the word 'survive', she shot a glance at Draven. The pirate looked away.
'This child doesn't have a father,' said Celadric savagely.
He was really worked up now. He had meant to have the child hauled in and casually butchered so Yen Olass would feel the weight of imperial discipline. Instead, this terrible woman had managed to entangle him in a crazy debate which he should cut off – now! – by killing the pig.
'And even if it was my father's bastard,' continued Celadric, 'There's nobody here to speak for it. Nobody wants a dralkosh spawned by a bitch who's a dralkosh herself.’
Lightly, Yerzerdayla reached out and plucked the knife from Celadric's hand.
'Give me that!' said Celadric.
The emperor and his concubine confronted each other.
'You take great risks,' said Celadric, his voice very cold.
There was a sigh from Draven, and the pirate rose to his feet, slowly, reluctantly.
'Peace,' said Draven. 'We come here to sign a peace. It would be a bad omen to have a killing the night before a peace treaty. I will stand as father for the child.’
Celadric turned on him.
'Why,' said Celadric, 'are you doing this?’
There was death in his voice.
'A debt of honour,' said Draven, reluctantly. 'As your father's son, I'm sure you understand the meaning of honour.’
Celadric took a deep breath. He could have Draven killed here and now. For opposing the emperor like this, the pirate deserved to be killed. But if Draven died, there would be no marriage between the pirate and the Princess Quenerain, and no peace treaty – and the pirates of the Greater Teeth would choose another leader, and go back to their old habits of raiding and plundering.
'Take the child then,' said Celadric. 'And the woman. And get out of my sight!’
The last words were said in a snarl.
Silently, Draven motioned to the four handlers holding Monogail down, and they released her. Yerzerdayla tossed the knife she was holding into a soup tureen, and gathered Monogail into her arms. Screaming for her mother, Monogail was carried from the room as Yerzerdayla exited in Draven's wake.
'The night is ended,' said Celadric, meaning that the entertainments were over. 'Everyone get out!’
York released Yen Olass.
'Well, my dearest heart,' said York. 'Shall we retire to our nuptial bed?’
Yen Olass wanted to faint, to weep, to sleep. Instead, she mustered up a smile.
'The night's pleasure is all mine,' she said.
Yerzerdayla had done what she could. The rest was up to her.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The castle was in darkness, except where flaming brands burnt here and there in the flagstone corridors. As York led Yen Olass to his own suite of rooms, a slave went in front bearing a lantern. In the bedroom, the slave smoothed the feather mattress and turned down the feather duvet. Then York dismissed her, and she departed. Yen Olass was alone in the suite with Celadric's brother.
Yen Olass put all thought of Monogail out of her mind. Yerzerdayla had risked her life to save Monogail, and Draven had chanced his; with such protection, the child would survive the night. Now Yen Olass had to concentrate on the task at hand. She had to contend with York. She felt very tired. Exhausted, in fact. But she did not allow herself to collapse.
'That was fun tonight,' said York.
'Yes,' said Yen Olass.
She considered attacking him. If he had been drunk and helpless, she would have killed him without hesitation. But he had drunk little. He was a strong, ugly, battle-hardened thug. Furthermore, he had insulted his brother by wearing chain mail to the banquet, and he was still clad in this armour. He was also carrying weapons.
York yawned.
He was weary; he was well-fed. Perhaps, given the chance, he would prefer to make love to her rather than to rape her. All evening, until Monogail's entrance had interrupted the party, they had played the game of love, and, to a certain extent, people become what they pretend to be. Yen Olass knew something of the arts of seduction – she had studied the Princess Quenerain often enough – and now she decided to romance her warlord. With a little luck, she would make him hers. She would make him her ally.
Yen Olass, letting the slightest husk of desire steal into her voice, said to her warlord:
T intend to enjoy this night together.’
Then she softened her lips for a kiss, and yielded up her mouth to his. But he did not respond. His lips were hard and dry, almost leathery; beyond them, his teeth barred the way into his mouth. He took her by the throat and pushed her face away from his. Then he scooped her up and threw her onto the bed. She was a solidly built woman, but he tossed her onto the bed as if she had been a child. As she landed, her head cracked into the wooden bedstead. She lay there shocked and dazed.
'Dralkosh,' said York.
Yen Olass felt stunned. How could he reject her like that? So absolutely? So completely? For a moment, she had been prepared to offer him her tenderness, the full cooperation of her body, and her unstinting assistance in every intimacy that he might desire. But he had pushed her away and then he had thrown her on the bed like a sack of potatoes.
York drew a knife and threw it.
The blade slammed into the bedstead by her left ear. Yen Olass started as the heavy-bladed weapon buried itself in the wood. She did not turn to look at it, but she could see it out of the corner of her eye.
'To cut you open,' said York.
Yen Olass did not understand. Did he think she was still a sewn-up woman? Surely he must know she had slept with his father? If he had never heard the gossip, he must have learnt as much from the argument in the banqueting hall. Yen Olass tried to speak, and found she could not. She cleared her throat noisily, and regained her voice.
'I'm not a virgin,' said Yen Olass.
'Oh?' said York. 'If you want a true confession… neither am I.’
York did not seem particularly interested. He started to unbuckle his swordbelt.
'I… I know how to please a man,' said Yen Olass. York raised an eyebrow. 'Both of us?’
'It would please me as well,' said Yen Olass. 'You have… you have a very beautiful body.’
