thousand men?”
“ A poorly defended city by all accounts,” the Battle Lord countered. “And I’m sure so vaunted a commander as Lord Vaelin is equal to the task.”
Count Marven coughed several times, face flushed. In accordance with Nilsaelin custom his head was shaved to grey stubble which, along with the gold ring he wore in his mutilated left ear, gave him the look of an outlaw, a trait he shared with most of his men. “My Lord,” he addressed Al Hestian. “I mean no disrespect to Lord Vaelin, but I would point out my rank…”
“ Rank is unimportant when set against ability and experience,” the Battle Lord interrupted. “Lord Vaelin has fought and won many battles whilst you, I believe, have merely engaged in skirmishes with the many outlaw bands haunting the highways of your fief.”
Count Marven glowered but his mouth remained closed despite his obvious anger.
“ I cannot believe,” Prince Malcius said, “that my father would countenance this plan.”
“ King Janus gave command of this army to me, Highness.” Al Hestian’s tone was one of forced civility but his entirely reciprocated dislike of the prince was palpable.
The argument continued, rising in volume as Vaelin pondered the plan. From what Sollis had said taking the city may not be a major problem but holding it was another matter. So far no mention had been made of the Alpiran forces which were probably already marching northward, no doubt in considerable numbers, and Linesh stood at the extreme end of the principal route through the hills fringing the eastern edge of the desert. It would almost certainly be the first target before the Alpirans turned to Marbellis, made all the more tempting by the presence of the Hope Killer. To call it a vulnerable position was a considerable understatement, as the Battle Lord well knew.
He rids himself of a rival for glory, Vaelin thought. Knowing the Alpirans will assail Linesh with all their might to revenge themselves on the Hope Killer, thinning their ranks in the process, whilst he wins eternal fame by taking Marbellis and holding it against siege. And by rendering me so vulnerable the Alpirans will have ample opportunity to give him the revenge he craves. He frowned, remembering the Aspect’s instructions. Vulnerable… Away from the main body of the army, away from so many curious eyes. A tempting target…
“ I believe this is an excellent plan,” he said brightly, quelling the blossoming fracas.
Prince Malcius stared at him, appalled. “My lord?”
“ Battle Lord Al Hestian has difficult choices to make. Yet none can doubt his gifts for strategy after our recent victory. We should not lose faith in him now. I will happily accept this commission, and,” he gave Al Hestian a grave bow of respect, “I thank the Battle Lord for the honour.”
“ You do see the trap in this, I assume?”
Vaelin unhitched Spit’s reins from the post and led him onto the gravel path, not looking at Sollis. “I see many things these days, master.”
“ Brother,” Sollis corrected. “Brother Commander if you must. The days when you called me master are long past us.”
“ And yet,” Vaelin checked the saddle strap and palmed away the dust on Spit’s flank, “it seems to me like yesterday.”
“ You are no longer a child, brother. Sulking ill becomes a Sword of the Realm.”
Vaelin turned on him then, anger rising in his breast. Sollis met his gaze and made no backward step. One of the few men who would never be afraid of him. He knew he should welcome the company of such a man, but the Test of the Sword hung between them like a curse.
“ I have my orders from the Aspect,” he told Sollis. “As, I’m sure, do you. I am merely attempting to follow them.”
“ The Aspect ordered me to take my company into this carnival of fools. He did not say why.”
“ Really? He told me more than I wanted to hear.” He fixed his eyes on Sollis’s face, ready to read the reaction to his words. “What do you know of the Seventh Order, brother? What can you tell me of the One Who Waits? What intelligence have you on the Aspect Massacre?”
Sollis blinked. It was his only reaction. “Nothing. Nothing you don’t already know.”
“ Then leave me to my trap.” He put a foot in the stirrup and hauled himself into the saddle. Glancing down at Sollis he saw something in his face he had never expected to see: uncertainty. “If you see the Realm again and I do not,” Vaelin said, “tell the Aspect I did what I could. The Aspects, all seven of them, should seek counsel with Princess Lyrna, she is the hope of the Realm.”
He spurred Spit into a gallop and tore away, a cloud of gravel in his wake, exultant in the finality of his course. Linesh, I will have answers in Linesh.
“ It was a clever plan.”
Holus Nester Aruan, governor of Linesh, was a portly man of about fifty with a jewelled ring on each of his stubby fingers and mingled expression of fear and anger on his fleshy face. They had found him in a small study off the mansion’s main hallway and his wrist bore a bruise from when Frentis had twisted a dagger from his grasp. He offered no reply to Vaelin’s words and spat on the intricate floor mosaic, closing his eyes and breathing a heavy sigh, obviously expecting death.
“ Gutsy bugger isn’t he?” Dentos observed.
“ Leaving a gap in the wall,” Vaelin went on. “Only making a show of repairs whilst you prepare a spiked ditch behind for us to fall into. Clever.”
“ Just kill me and have done,” the Governor grated. “I am dishonoured enough without suffering your empty platitudes.” He gave a conspicuous sniff, wrinkling his nose. “Is shit the natural aroma for Northmen?”
Vaelin glanced at his heavily stained clothing. Frentis and Dentos were similarly besmirched and exuded an equally appalling stench. “Your sewers need some attention,” he replied. “There are several blockages.”
The governor gave a small moan and grimaced in realisation. “The drain in the harbour.”
“ Indeed, easily accessible at low tide, once the bars were removed. Brother Frentis here spent four nights creeping across the sands at low tide to scrape away the mortar.” Vaelin went to the window and gestured at the tower above the main gate. A flaming torch could be seen waving back and forth in the darkness. “The signal confirming our success. The walls are in our hands and your garrison is captured. The city is ours, my lord.”
The governor looked at Vaelin closely, scrutinising his face and clothing. “A tall warrior in a blue cloak,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. “Eyes of black with a jackal’s cunning. Hope Killer.” A profound expression of sorrow covered his features. “You have doomed us all by coming here. When the emperor learns you are within our walls his cohorts will burn the city to the ground just to burn you.”
“ That won’t happen,” Vaelin assured him. “My King will be angry if I oversee the destruction of his newest dominion.”
“ Your king is a madman and you are his rabid dog.”
Frentis bridled. “Watch your mouth…”
Vaelin held up a hand to silence him. “If insulting me relieves your guilt then feel free to do so. But at least allow me to present our terms.”
The governor frowned in puzzlement. “Terms? What terms can there be? You have conquered us.”
“ You and your fellow citizens are now subjects of the Unified Realm, with all the rights and privileges that entails. We are not here as slavers or thieves. This is a thriving port and King Janus desires it remains so, with as little disturbance as possible to its current administration.”
“ If your king expects me to serve him, he truly is mad. My life is already forfeit, the emperor will expect me to take the honourable course, as well he should.”
“ Hasta! ” There was a shout from the doorway and a girl burst into the room. She was in her mid-teens and dressed in white cotton shift. Her eyes were wide with fear and a small knife was clutched in her hand. Frentis moved to intercept her but Vaelin waved him back and she rushed to the governor’s side, positioning herself between them, waving her knife at Vaelin and glaring defiance. Her words were heavily accented and it took him a moment to comprehend them. “Leave my father alone!”
The governor put his hands on her shoulders, speaking softly into her ear. She trembled, eyes brimming with tears, the knife shuddering in her hands. Vaelin noted the gentleness with which the governor calmed her, taking the knife from her and pulling her close as she collapsed in tears.
“ In Untesh,” Vaelin said. “The governor’s family were obliged to join him in death. This land has some strange customs.”
The governor shot him a guarded look of resentment and continued to cradle his daughter.
