David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“What happened?” the innkeeper said, hurrying through the parting crowd.

“Thieves. In the Grey Hills.”

“Someone get a healer!” he shouted to the men closest to the door. “Are the rest of you all right?”

“I’ve hurt my wrist. The bone may be broken. Otherwise we’re fine.”

“How much did you lose?”

Dunstan grinned. “Only a few qinde.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. “You were fortunate.”

“I suppose,” the piper said. “But you should have seen Corbin! He-”

“You’re right,” Cadel broke in. “We were fortunate. But Jaan needs healing, and a place to lie down.”

Dunstan stared at him a moment, then nodded.

The innkeeper led them to his own quarters in the back of the tavern, allowing them to lay Jaan on his bed. “I’ll be back with some food and tea,” he said, bustling back toward the kitchen.

Dunstan and Anesse remained beside the lutenist, but Kalida pulled Cadel into the next room. Her lips were pressed in a thin line and her face was pale. Once more he was struck by how lovely she was. He was going to miss her.

“You said we were fortunate,” she began at last, her eyes meeting his. “I don’t think fortune had anything to do with it.”

“Of course it did,” he said, looking down at his wrist and flexing his hand. He could move it with only a bit of pain. Perhaps it wasn’t broken after all. “Anytime you encounter thieves and escape with both your life and your gold, you’ve been lucky.”

“That’s not what I meant. The way you fought them. .” She shook her head. “I was watching you fight. You never had any doubt that you could defeat them, did you?”

“Of course I did.” He wasn’t certain why he bothered lying. He couldn’t stay. Dunstan was ready to write songs about his prowess with a blade, and now this from Kalida. When the shock of what had happened wore off, the others would have questions as well. They would never look at him the same way again. Still, his dream of leading a quiet life wouldn’t die so easily. “There’s always doubt,” he told her. “When I fell today, when I hurt my wrist, that could have given him the opening he needed to kill me.”

“But you fought-”

“Honok and I used to travel a good deal. We encountered many thieves, and over the years we learned to defend ourselves. That’s why I fight as well as I do.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. You fought only when Anesse and I-” She swallowed. “When it seemed they were going to take more than just our gold. You could have fought them at any time, but you waited until then. It was almost as if you didn’t want us to see you fight, as if you were afraid to let us see how good you are with a blade.”

He started toward the door, intending to retrieve what few possessions he carried from his room upstairs. “I should go.”

“Who are you, Corbin?”

“I’m a singer.”

“And what else? A mercenary? Are you a thief yourself?”

He turned and walked to where she stood. She didn’t shy from him, and when he bent to kiss her lips, she returned the kiss.

“It doesn’t matter what else I am or was. I came here hoping to be a singer, and I became your lover because I thought you beautiful and kind. Never doubt that.”

He crossed to the door once more and pulled it open.

“Where are you going to go?”

“It’s best I don’t tell you.”

“What about your wrist?”

“I’ll find a healer.”

“What about us?”

He glanced back at her and smiled. “I’ll remember. . us for the rest of my days. Tell Anesse and the others what you will. Be well, Kalida. Gods keep you safe.”

She gazed at him sadly, but there were no tears on her face, nor did he expect that there would be. Given time, he might have loved this woman.

“And you, Corbin,” she said.

He slipped past the other musicians, returned briefly to his room, and then left the tavern, knowing that several of those who remained in the great room of the inn marked his departure. He knew as well that people in Ailwyck would speak for years of the singer who came to their city, bringing music such as few of them had heard before, only to leave a short time later, after single-handedly defeating five road brigands in the Grey Hills. This couldn’t be helped, nor could the fact that this tale would spread through the land, eventually reaching Qirsi ears, or perhaps those of Tavis of Curgh. There was nothing he could do but journey onward. He was an assassin. He had been an assassin for more years than he could count, and he would die an assassin. This, it seemed, was his fate.

Solkara, Aneira, Osya’s Moon waxing

“You’re wasting time,” Henthas said, sulking in his chair.

Numar had to smile. “Perhaps. But it’s my time, not yours.”

There was a part of him that actually enjoyed seeing his brother so agitated. Certainly these discussions grew tiresome, but they also served a purpose, reminding Henthas that though he might have been duke of Solkara, Numar, in his capacity as regent, led their house now.

“The longer you remain regent to Carden’s child, the weaker you grow. She’s ten now, and with each year-”

“That’s right, Henthas: she’s ten. She has no claim to the throne for another six years. The fool’s way is to rush matters. And as we both know, I’m no fool.”

The duke’s face colored, and Numar nearly laughed aloud. He was no more a fool than Henthas was a jackal. Jackals were cunning; they were dangerous. His brother was neither. Numar had reduced him to little more than a lapdog, toothless and completely dependent on Numar’s goodwill.

“The dukes won’t follow a regent to war. You said yourself that Dantrielle was already showing signs of defiance. What if he can convince others to stand with him?”

“Then I’ll crush them, just as I intend to crush Tebeo. I don’t have to be king to wield power. Indeed, I believe in most respects you’re entirely wrong. As regent, I have as much sway with the dukes as I would as king, and far more goodwill. Wearing the crown, I become just another Solkaran tyrant, a man to be feared and distrusted, just as Carden was. But so long as I remain regent, I am merely the dead king’s younger brother, humbly serving the land in its time of need.”

Henthas snorted. “You honestly believe they see you that way?”

“Enough of them, yes. And I’m fully certain that were Kalyi to meet her untimely end anytime soon, it would mean my downfall, and Solkara’s as well. Killing a noble or two is one thing. Murdering the child-queen is quite another.”

He saw a quick smile touch his brother’s face and vanish, and there could be no mistaking the gleam in his brother’s eyes. There was just enough malice in Henthas to make the prospect of such an end to Numar’s reign attractive to him. He would never be king, and he would remain duke of Solkara regardless of the house’s standing in the realm. Indeed, Henthas was the sole person in the royal house who would actually benefit from the girl’s death, provided he escaped blame in the matter. With Kalyi gone, her mother, Chofya, the former queen, would no longer have any claim to the status she had first attained as Carden’s wife. Numar, if he weren’t hanged for killing the girl, would be relegated once more to the marquessate of Renbrere, leaving Henthas as Solkara’s leader. The Solkaran riches would belong to him, and any hope the house had of reclaiming the throne would rest with Henthas and his heirs. In light of how little power Henthas had now, he would have been mad not to consider such a course.

Fortunately, Numar had considered it as well.

“I know what you’re thinking, brother,” he said mildly. “I give you my word, you will be blamed for any harm that comes to the girl, not I.”