“Very well, then. Tarmahk?” Cassan glanced at his personal armsman, and Dirkson nodded back, then gave his squad a stern look.
“On your toes, lads,” he said.
‹ Wonderful,› Gayrhalan growled as he and Hathan saw the crossed battleaxe and warhammer on the banner above the small, close-spaced cluster of horsemen walking their mounts towards them.
‹ It could be worse,› Hathan replied.
‹ Really? How?›
‹ Give me a day or two and I’ll think of something.›
Gayrhalan snorted, but there wasn’t time for another exchange before Cassan and half a dozen armsmen in his personal colors reached them.
“The King, Sir Hathan? Is the King all right?”
Hathan blinked at the raw fear in Cassan’s harsh, quick question. It certainly sounded sincere.
“The King is well…so far,” he replied after a moment, and watched Cassan sag in the saddle.
“Thank the gods!” The baron shook his head. “I was certain we were going to be too late. Thank the gods we got here in time after all!”
‹ Careful, Brother.› Gayrhalan said. ‹I think he’s lying-his lips are moving!›
“You did get here just in time, Milord.” Hathan kept any awareness of his companion’s comment out of his reply. “We’re grateful you did.”
“And you’re wondering how it happened.” Cassan’s expression turned grim, and he shook his head. “I don’t blame you. Tomanak knows there’s enough bad blood between me and Tellian to make anyone suspicious. I won’t pretend I’m sorry about that, or that I’m anything except his enemy, either. Or even that I wouldn’t do just about anything to get the better of him. And that spills over onto you, of course.” He met Hathan’s eyes levelly, his expression unflinching, then drew a deep breah and squared his shoulders. “But we serve the same King, however we feel about one another, and the last thing either of us needs is a return to the Time of Troubles.”
Hathan’s eyes narrowed at the other man’s open admission of hostility and sensed his courser’s matching surprise at the baron’s frankness.
“I’m sure Baron Tellian would agree with you in at least that much, Milord,” he said.
“And very little else, I’m certain.” Cassan managed a thin smile, but then he exhaled noisily and shook his head again.
“I don’t suppose any fair-minded man could blame him for that. But this time he and I are going to have to work together if we want to prevent just that from happening.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I discovered-too late, I was afraid-that my kinsman Yeraghor’s strayed into dangerous waters.” Cassan’s tone was that of a man admitting something he manifestly wished he didn’t have to. “It may be at least partly my fault. He knows how bitterly I hate Tellian, how far I’ve been willing to go to get the better of him, and he’s allied his fortune to mine. That probably opened the door to what’s happened…but I believe he’s been manipulated by someone else. Someone who would be delighted to see the entire Kingdom disintegrate into the Time of Troubles all over again.”
He paused, and Hathan cocked his head. He never would have expected Cassan to implicate Yeraghor in something like this!
“Manipulated, Milord? By whom?”
“I can’t be sure,” Cassan replied in that same unwilling tone, “but something his lady said in a letter to my wife struck me as…odd. I had my agents in the East Riding look into it very cautiously. Two of them seem to’ve disappeared without a trace. The third came to me with a tale I dearly wanted to disbelieve, but I fear he was right.”
The baron’s nostrils flared.
“There’s wizardry afoot in Ersok, Sir Hathan,” he said flatly. “I don’t believe Yeraghor realizes it, but I have conclusive evidence. I believe someone from outside the Kingdom-someone who knows all about my enmity for Tellian-has used sorcerous means to influence him. It was the last thing I wanted to believe, but when my agent reported that Yeraghor had actually dispatched assassins to murder the King, I couldn’t take the chance that he might be wrong.” Cassan’s shoulders sagged. “I turned out my armsmen and we rode as fast as we could. The whole way I was praying my agent was wrong, but these”-he waved wearily at the bodies of the dead mercenaries littering the ground-“look like exactly the assassins my agent described.”
‹ Toragan!› Gayrhalan said. ‹ Do you think Cassan of Frahmahn might actually be telling the truth?›
‹ Anything’s possible, I suppose. And he did say wizardry was involved,› Hathan replied, yet he couldn’t quite produce his normal acerbity.
“And what, precisely, do you suggest we do about it, Milord?” he asked harshly.
“The first step has to be to see to the King’s safety,” Cassan replied. “And after that, it must be the dispatch of Crown magi to Ersok to investigate and smell out any wizardry.”
He was clearly uncomfortable saying that-not surprisingly, Hathan thought, given his well-known hostility towards the magi.
“It’s the only way to be certain we know what’s truly happening,” the baron continued. “I’m almost certain Yeraghor doesn’t realize he’s being manipulated and controlled by someone else.”
He shook his head again, sadly, and moved a little closer to Gayrhalan. His warhorse was smaller than the towering courser, a fact Cassan would normally have bitterly resented and done everything he could to avoid acknowledging. Now he reached out and upward, laying one hand almost beseechingly on Hathan’s armored forearm.
“I’m almost certain of that,” he said softly, so softly Hathan had to lean towards him to hear him. “But I’m not positive. Gods, I wish I was! The truth is, I’m afraid he may realize exactly what he’s done, and if the Kingdom learns one of the four barons willingly resorted to the use of sorcery, the gods only know how it will react!”
Hathan nodded slowly, forced against his will to acknowledge Cassan’s point.
“It will be essential for Tellian and me to present a united front if that’s the case,” Cassan said, his expression bitter. “And I won’t pretend that thought pleases me one bit. But if the two of us stand together, the fact that we can’t agree on anything else in the world should at least cause the lords warden to accept that none of the other barons are dabbling in sorcery. And if it turns out Yeraghor is being manipulated unknowingly, or even against his will, it’s still going to take Tellian and me together to either keep it from becoming general knowledge or to deal with its repercussions when the truth leaks out.”
‹ Now that sounds more like Cassan, › Gayrhalan said. ‹ The “repercussions” he’s worried about probably mostly have to do with the fact that Yeraghor’s his cousin!›
‹ Maybe,› Hathan replied. ‹ Even probably. But that doesn’t make him wrong. If Yeraghor is the one who used wizardry against Borandas and now he’s tried to assassinate the King, the Kingdom could all too easily tear itself apart hunting for other traitors and hidden wizards. And he’s right about something else, too; if he and Tellian present a united front, everyone else will have to take them seriously!›
“I trust you won’t take this wrongly, Milord,” he said out loud, “but I think Baron Tellian-and the King-are going to want to see this evidence of yours about Yeraghor.”
“Of course they are.” Cassan gave a harsh chuckle. “If the position were reversed, I’d certainly want to see it. It’ll take some time to assemble all of it, but I brought along a copy of my agent’s report.” He took his hand from Hathan’s forearm and reached for his belt pouch. “I think the best thing to do at this point is for me to keep my armsmen safely outside the wall while you take the report back to the King and show it to him and Tellian. Once they’ve had a chance to look at it, then-”
The hand reaching for his belt pouch darted suddenly to one side. It closed on the hilt of a dagger, and before Hathan could react, the dagger came out of its sheath, drove in through the open visor of his helmet and thrust through his left eye socket into his brain.
Gayrhalan was as surprised as his rider. His head swung to the side, trying to bat the dagger aside before it could thrust home, but he was too late. Cassan and his armsmen had planned quickly but carefully on the ride to meet the King’s envoy, and in the instant the courser was totally focused on Cassan, Tarmahk Dirkson flexed his
