They crossed the perpendicular hallway that ran parallel to the road, then abruptly turned into the sitting room at the front of the house. Squashy armchairs surrounded a tremendous fireplace. A heap of hot coals and embers stood in its center, a wood basket to one side. Oreius bent over in front of the fireplace and carefully laid small branches on the embers. In moments, bright yellow flames appeared and began hungrily devouring the wood. The old warrior continued to add fuel, nurturing the tiny flames until they grew into a suitably large fire, warming the small, comfortable room.
“Now,” Oreius grunted. “Suppose you tell me what this is all about.”
“Another assassin,” Relam said quickly. “Climbed the outside of the palace to my room, broke a window and attacked me. I only just managed to drive him off by smashing a lantern and starting a fire.
“After all I taught you, you only just got away?” Oreius demanded.
“You didn’t teach me knife fighting.”
“Ah,” Oreius said, nodding. “I thought about it at one point. But it’s difficult to master and very time consuming. I’ll amend the training in the future though.”
“Thanks,” Relam muttered, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I escaped using the servants’ passages. The palace guards likely think me dead or kidnapped.”
“Even better,” Oreius grunted. “I’m housing two people who are supposed to be dead.”
“There’s more,” Relam warned him. “As I was coming here, I overheard a conversation near the Citadel. It was one of the men Aven and I overheard the night my mother died, I am sure of it, talking to the assassin that had just tried to kill me.”
Oreius leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Did you get a name?” he whispered.
“No, I-”
CRASH!
Relam jumped out of his chair startled, groping for his sword. Oreius did not react at all, merely sat in his chair, shaking his head in annoyance. “That’s just Narin,” he told Relam. “He’s not used to getting around this house in the dark yet. Keeps tripping over things. I’ll wager that was a bedside table.”
“You’re sure?” Relam asked, listening, sword half drawn.
“Positive, now put the blade up,” Oreius snapped. “You might as well wait for the commander to get here. Save you repeating everything.”
Relam sat and waited, eyes darting around the small room. Soon, footsteps reached his ears, quick, nervous footsteps. A slight glow came to life in the hallway outside. Narin rounded the corner, sword in one hand, a shuttered lantern in the other. The former commander relaxed when he recognized Oreius, then frowned at Relam, puzzled.
“This is an unexpected honor, your majesty,” he said, sheathing his sword.
“I had nowhere else to go,” Relam replied. “Another assassin came for me, Narin.”
Narin swore angrily. “Does that new guard commander know anything? How many attempts on the royal family is this since I was killed?”
“He climbed the outside wall,” Relam replied. “There are no guards out there.”
“Eckle did?”
“No, the assassin,” Oreius corrected, frowning. “Focus, Narin.”
“I only just got up,” the former commander complained bitterly.
“We heard,” Oreius muttered darkly. “Do I need to buy a new table tomorrow?”
“I should be able to reattach both legs. The basin on the other hand, well, that will need to be replaced.”
“Great,” Oreius muttered, shaking his head.
“Wait,” Relam interjected, looking between the two older men. “Eckle.”
“What about him?” Narin asked.
“You said he had Citadel training, Citadel connections.”
“He does,” Narin confirmed.
“And the assassin,” Relam said, eyes widening. “He was hired by someone who has access to the Citadel.”
“The hissing man?” Oreius asked.
“Yes,” Relam muttered. “So who is he?”
“The man hiring the assassins is associated with the Citadel?” Narin asked, surprised.
“The guards let him right in,” Relam said, shrugging.
“I’ll be right back,” Narin muttered, running out of the room.
Relam looked at Oreius. “What is he-?”
“Just wait.”
Relam shut his mouth with an audible clop and settled down to wait.
Not a minute later, Narin was back, arms full of parchment sheets and rolls. “I’ve been compiling a list of nobles who fit our meager evidence, looking for a pattern,” he explained breathlessly. He pulled a scroll off the top of the stack and unrolled it, scanning its contents briefly. “This is a list of all the nobles who were at the banquet where you overheard the conspirators,” he murmured, reaching for a second scroll. “And here . . . a list of nobles from the area who traveled to Mizzran about the time the first assassins were hired. Those two bits of information narrowed the list to about thirty names.”
“Thirty?” Relam asked, surprised.
“Not many people here go to Mizzran,” Narin said, shrugging. “It’s basically a mound of precious rocks. Not a popular vacation spot, despite the vast accumulation of wealth there. Ardia and Narne on the other hand are far more-”
“Focus,” Oreius snapped.
“Of course,” Narin said smoothly. “A few names jumped out here. Clemon was on the list, but we discounted him. The man doesn’t have the creativity to pull off something like this. Several minor lords, but none of them have ‘a great many soldiers’ like the, ah, ‘hissing man’.”
“Then who on the list does?” Relam asked. “Not Clemon, certainly.”
“No, not Clemon,” Narin agreed. “But, there is someone who is on both lists, has easy access to you, and has a fair number of soldiers on hand.”
“Eckle?” Relam guessed.
“He wasn’t in Mizzran, but he could be a part of this,” Narin conceded. “No, the one name that fits everything perfectly is Master Bene D’Arnlo. Ruler of the Citadel.”
Chapter 39
Relam slowly sat back in his chair. “D’Arnlo?” he asked, just to be sure he had heard correctly. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be given the information we have,” Narin said, nodding.
“Let’s not be hasty,” Oreius said. “We may be missing
