David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

“Well, you must be weary from your journey,” she said to the man a moment later, recovering as would a queen. “We can feed you and tend to your mount before you begin the ride back to Dantrielle.”

“Thank you, my lady, but I was instructed not to enter your castle.”

Chofya frowned. “What?”

“They don’t trust us, my lady,” Henthas said, eyeing the man, watching for his response. “Or more to the point, they don’t trust me. Isn’t that so, Dantrielle?”

“I merely know what I was told, my lord.”

“Fine. Begone then. If they wish to make an outcast of House Solkara, then so be it.”

“No!” Chofya said, glaring at him. “We will not become the bane of every house in this realm. Tell the other dukes that when the time comes to choose a new king, we would like very much to be party to the council.”

“You will tell them no such thing!”

“You do not speak for this house, Henthas! Kalyi was queen and is now duchess! And if you aren’t prepared to recognize her authority then I’ll assume the role of regent myself!”

“Don’t presume to challenge me, Chofya. I’ll crush you, just as Numar should have done, and Grigor before him.” He turned on his heal and started back through the gate.

As Henthas walked away, he heard Chofya tell the rider to deliver her message to his duke, but he didn’t care. By the time Tebeo received word of their confrontation, the matter would be settled, once and for all.

Before he had managed to cross the courtyard, someone called to him. Turning, he saw one of the younger captains approach. He couldn’t remember the man’s name. He knew only that for a man this young to be here, rather than with one of the two forces Numar had sent to war, he couldn’t be much of a soldier.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“Your pardon, my lord, but I couldn’t help hearing what you and the lady was just saying.”

“Yes, what of it?”

“Well, I wanted you to know that not all the men is with her.”

“What?”

“Some of us is siding with you.”

“What are you-?” He stared at the man a moment, his mind racing to catch up with the implications of what this fool was telling him. “Are you saying that Chofya’s been talking to the captains, trying to turn the army against me?”

“Yes, my lord. But not all of us is ready to join her.”

The whore! He’d kill her, and the brat, too.

“What do you want us to do, my lord? Just say the word, and we’s with you.”

“How many?”

“My lord?”

“How many of the soldiers are with me?”

“ ’Bout a hundred, my lord.”

“One hundred? That’s all?”

The soldier flinched. “Well. . well, by the time we thought to do anything, she had got to most of the men.”

Henthas shook his head. A hundred men. And if the others were anything like this one, he didn’t stand a chance. Best to handle this on his own. After, he’d deal with the ones she had turned. “Tell them to be ready,” he said. “Tell them to watch for my signal.”

“What signal will that be, my lord?”

“They’ll know it when they see it. In the meantime, see if you can persuade any of the others to join me. Quietly.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Henthas spun away from the man, striding back to his chamber, his hands trembling with rage, his heart pounding like that of an overworked mount. He should have expected this. For several turns he had been warning Numar against taking Carden’s woman too lightly. Now it seemed that he had done just that. All the time he had been lying to her, lulling her, he thought, into a false sense of trust, she had been doing the same to him, with far more success.

Well, no more. Court games such as this had long been Numar’s strength, and Grigor’s before him. Henthas was a different sort of animal, and it was time he began acting as such.

Once in his chamber, he closed and locked the door behind him. He would allow himself no distractions until he had decided on a course of action. There were several ways to do this; he just had to decide which of them conveyed the proper message to those men who had joined with the queen mother. It didn’t take him long to realize that his choices were actually quite limited. This was one instance when the brutality for which he and Grigor had long been reviled would serve him best. He had only to wait.

He took his meal in his chamber, sitting by his window, waiting for nightfall. When at last the sky darkened, the duke stood, strapped on his sword, and left his chamber, making his way through the corridors to the sleeping quarters of Chofya and Kalyi.

Two men stood watch outside their door, both of them tall and muscular. Neither of them was young-most of the young men had marched with Numar or had gone north to join Mertesse-but neither were they as old as some of those who now guarded the castle.

Seeing Henthas approach, they straightened, their hands falling quickly to the hilt of their blades, though neither man drew his weapon.

“Can we be of service, my lord?”

“I wish to see the queen.”

The men glanced at one another. “I’m sorry, my lord. The duchess’s mother left instructions you weren’t to be allowed in.”

The duchess’s mother. . Chofya had already claimed the family seat for her daughter. “Did she?” he said, itching to draw his blade. “Did she also mention that I don’t recognize the child’s claim to the duchy? When I awoke this morning, I was duke of Solkara, and I have no reason to believe that I’m any less than that now.”

“The duchess awoke as queen, my lord, which gives her as much claim to the duchy as anyone.”

This was ridiculous. He was a nobleman, and he wasn’t about to debate matters of state with this fool of a soldier.

“Whatever I am,” he said, forcing a smile, “I’m a man of this court. And I’m ordering you to step aside and allow me to speak with my niece.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. I can’t do that.”

Henthas had known it would come to this. In a way, he had looked forward to it, seeing in it a chance to enhance his already formidable reputation. Killing the child and her mother did little in that regard. Fighting his way past two of Chofya’s guards would do a good deal.

“You force me to do this,” he said, drawing his sword. “I fight for my house and my castle.”

He was a swordsman, perhaps not Carden’s equal, or even Grigor’s, but a skilled fighter nevertheless, taught by Tomaz himself. These men might have been well trained, but they hadn’t a chance.

The first of the soldiers fell quickly-so concerned was he with the duke’s sword that he didn’t see the dagger in Hen thas’s left hand until it was too late. To his credit, the second man didn’t flee. Indeed, he fought quite well, parrying deftly with his sword hand and using a torch that he grabbed with his free hand to keep the duke’s smaller blade at bay.

For several moments they circled in the dark corridor, trading feints and sudden thrusts, neither man gaining any advantage. It soon became clear to Henthas, however, that the soldier, while adept, was unimaginative. All his attacks were the same-straightforward, powerful, but leveled at the duke’s chest and head. So when he began his next assault, Henthas dropped to one knee, slashing at the man’s leg with his dirk. When the soldier fell to his knees, dropping the torch, Henthas stood, and with a mighty sweep of his sword, hacked off his head.

“Let them speak of that come morning,” he muttered.

He was winded, sweat running down his temples, but he felt good. It had been too long since he raised his blade in battle. He had missed this.

The chamber was locked, of course. But one of the guards carried a ring of keys on his belt. In a matter of moments, Henthas had found the correct one and unlocked the door.