Secrets of the Night Special Edition (51 page)

He rose, too, and took her elbow. "Let me send Radegunda to you."

Keriam waved her hand. "No need to bother Radegunda," she said as he opened the door for her. "I'll be fine."

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "Are you still worried about me? Is that the problem? I told you after Fergus's death--" He swallowed hard. "--after Fergus's death, I told you I still maintain my trust in Balor--no, let me finish. I trust the general, but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, which is why I asked Gamal to investigate the matter. For now, I'm sending Balor to Elegia. Such a trip will get him out of the country for a while."

She nodded, but who knew what would happen in the coming days?

* * *

"Ah, Gamal." Midac Balor greeted the palace steward. "Just the man I want to see."

The general sat beside a massive oak desk in his study, a spacious room across the hall from his bedchamber. A statue of the Earth-mother goddess adorned an end table set against a far wall--for effect? Roric wondered. Plain gray silk draperies hung in the still summer air, as limp as the wilting roses in his garden.

The general indicated a chair. "Sit down." He smirked. "Palace duties keeping you busy?"

"As always," Roric replied, taking a seat. He must stay ever on guard, aware he must watch every word, every facial expression. "But the day is coming very soon when I will cease serving the king. Indeed, when the king ceases this life, I will serve you."

Balor returned to his seat. "What about the silver merchant in Moytura--what's his name, Drummond Haley? Can we count on his gold?" He smiled at his play on words.

"That's why I came to see you. I visited him recently, as you requested. His support is conditional upon gaining a position in the new government, preferably as Minister of Coinage.” Roric smiled inwardly at another bit of information. Drummond Haley was on
his
side, another ally against Balor. Should disaster befall the king--Talmora forbid!–Roric had an associate, someone who shared his hatred of the general.

Elbows on the desk, the general leaned forward, his beefy hands clasped. "Minister of Coinage? That should present no problem. I intend to get rid of the one we have now, when I become king. Never liked him.” He paused. "And you, Gamal? What position do you want?"

Roric opened his arms wide. "I see no reason why I shouldn't continue as palace steward, if you agree. However, I'm willing to serve as you wish."

Balor nodded, absently tracing his finger down the purple scar on his cheek. "Again, I see no problem. I must leave soon for Elegia, at the king's request--" He snickered"--to glean useful information from their military experience. As if we could learn anything from them. Once we take control of Avador, Elegia will learn their army is no match for ours."

"I beg to disagree, general. Remember I told you once, that country has a formidable, well-equipped army, not that I wouldn't wish it otherwise. Better swords, too."

"When I become king and we march on Elegia, we'll see who has the stronger army. Yes, I'll admit they have finer swords, and I intend to discover their secret. But we have far greater manpower."

"I fear manpower may count little when we lack better weaponry--"

"And whose fault is that?" Balor slammed his fist on the desk, a gesture that sent papers flying to the floor.

"The king is a weakling," Balor continued while Roric bent over and returned the papers to the desk, stifling his annoyance.
Next thing you know, he'll want me to polish his boots.

"Tencien," the general continued, "has devoted all his attention to peaceful pursuits--his words, not mine--and deprived his army of the necessary weaponry. But that’s another situation that will change when I become king." He grinned. "We don't have long to wait. After the festival, the kingdom will be ours."

* * *

"There now! Didn't I tell you how well I shoot an arrow?" Aradia asked Balor, a triumphant smile on her face. She nodded toward a dead squirrel on the ground, an object in the far distance, a target seemingly impossible to hit.

By prearrangement, Balor and Aradia had met in this lonely spot, each riding from different directions, Aradia with her bow and quiver of arrows hidden under her voluminous cloak.

Balor wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his fingers brushing her breast. "My dear, you're better than any archer in the army. That squirrel must be over fifteen-hundred feet away. How did you learn to shoot so well?"

"I've practiced every day since I was a child. But after my marriage to that oaf, Fergus, I had to relinquish practice. You have no idea how good it feels to resume again."

The Avador countryside spread all around them; wild animals scurrying among the surrounding trees made perfect targets. The shimmering heat and still air hung over them like thick sheepskin. Aradia's dress clung to her, damp with perspiration, and her silvery hair, now a dirty gray, hung in wet strands to her shoulders. She wiped her hand down her hips, looking for a new target.

"But how do you
see
the targets?" he persisted. "How do you focus on them?" He shook his head. "That squirrel--I had to strain my eyes to see it. Yet you took aim and hit it as if it were only a short distance away."

Aradia pressed a finger close to her eye. "Excellent vision, my love--"

"Ah, yes, your eagle eyes. You're a clever one, darling, able to transform to the body of a jackal but with the eyes of an eagle."

"Not to mention exceptional divination ability that enables me to find my target and bring it much closer." She thought for a moment. "It's as though I draw the object to me. I pretend it's no farther than the length of my hand, and . . . there you have it! Or I have it, you might say."

Shading his eyes, Balor gazed upward, where a lone raven approached from the east, a tiny speck in the distance. He tapped Aradia's shoulder and pointed. "Let's see you get that."

"Of course." Quickly, she drew an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. After a moment of concentration, she took careful aim as the bird flew closer, its flapping wings gleaming in the bright sunshine. She let loose, the arrow finding its mark. The raven fell to the ground with a hard thud.

Aradia and Balor rushed toward the prey and pulled the arrow from its warm, lifeless body.

Aradia grinned. "Now what do you say?"

"Without a doubt, you're the best archer I've seen."

She looked at him, bloody arrow in hand. "So?"

Balor beamed. "So you have the privilege of killing the king."

She smiled, returning the arrow to the quiver. "No poison, then?"

"I've given the matter much thought." He scratched his chin, looking off into the distance. "I fear poison is too risky. For one thing, those ugly dwarves guard the kitchen as if it belonged to them. So we can't handle his food. For another, any poison we put in the king's food would also kill the princess. No," he said, catching her scowl. "I don't give a damn about that creature, but one death is enough . . . two, I should say. Don't forget Fergus."

She snorted. "How could I forget that clod?"

"But no one must see you or connect you with the king's death. Now, as to the time of the assassination--the Lug Festival presents the best opportunity. I reached that decision several moonphases ago."

"Midac, darling, I agree. We know the king will give one of his boring speeches during the festival, right there in the city square. There are plenty of trees where I can conceal myself, far from the city square but close enough to take aim."

"But how can you escape without anyone seeing you?"

She winked. "I have that planned, too."

Chapter Twelve

In the privacy of Princess Keriam's office, Roric studied her worried face. Compelled to express his misgivings, he wished he could say something to console her. "Do whatever you consider necessary, madam. The king must not appear before the people at the festival. I fear that's precisely when the assassin--or assassins--will strike." Roric took a deep breath. "Another consideration--we may never have definite proof against Balor. A clever man, the general. He leaves no evidence, or none that our spies have found. They have examined his desk and papers in his absence, after one of them bribed Balor's butler to inform them when the general was away from home. And to keep the other servants away from the general's office whenever the spies are there. I'm sure they've told you the same," he said with a questioning look. And as he had told the king.

Keriam nodded. "So far, we've come up with nothing,” she said, turning away to stack a few papers.

By the evening twilight, a brass lantern cast a mellow glow on the room and confined the shadows to the corners. How pretty she looks by the evening light, he thought, her skin a rosy hue in the lantern light, her hair blacker than night.
She’s pretty at
any time, lovely and desirable.
And he desired her, he admitted with a newfound realization, something he’d tried to deny for so long. But wanting and having were two different things. And she could never be his. Despite the urgency that colored their bond, he thought only of drawing her into his arms, kissing her lips, pressing her body close to his. Ah, to lie with her beneath him, to hear her sighs in his ears, her gasps of pleasure--

Her voice brought him back to the discussion, the danger to the king, a menace he must overcome, and Balor a man he must defeat.

"We need proof!" She pounded her fist on her desk, shaking the ink bottle. "And I'm afraid we don't have time."

Glancing toward the closed door, she lowered her voice. "I agree, His Majesty should stay home from the festival. But imagine what the people would think if he doesn’t appear." She rearranged a few papers on her desk and faced him again. "Thank the Goddess Aradia is gone from the palace. No one has reported any jackal lurking in the woods."

"You are certain she's gone?" Roric had doubts the sorceress would have left so agreeably.

"I was absent from the palace yesterday when she departed, but the carriage driver assured me he took her back to Mag Bregha."

Roric lifted his hand, wanting to touch her, comfort her. He let his hand drop to his side. "Have you thought of drugging the king's cider the morning of the festival? Only to put him to sleep," he said in response to her shocked expression. "Let him sleep through the festival. The celebration can continue without him, no matter how much the people look forward to hearing him speak."

She shook her head. "He'd never forgive me."

A longing to take all her troubles on himself consumed him, an ache in his heart. Yet he must dismiss his feelings and go with hard facts. "Which is more important to you--his forgiveness or his life?"

"You know the answer to that! Why do you ask?" Her chest heaved, and she flipped her long hair over her shoulder.

"I merely want you to understand the seriousness of--"

"As if I don't understand! What have I been telling you?"

"Very well," he said, pretending calmness. "Surely you can procure an herb from that wit--from Radegunda." Even as he said the witch's name, dread knifed his stomach. Familiar with her habits now, he did everything possible to avoid her. "If I'm not mistaken, you often spend time with her in the kitchen.”.

"Learning about herbs and plants that heal," she said, a look of challenge on her face.

"Ah." Or learning magic? He suppressed a shudder. His mind wrenched back to the night he'd returned late to the palace and thought he'd seen her specter. Or had he only imagined seeing it? He took a deep breath. "Then I'm certain Radegunda can give you a drug to add to the king's cider. Princess, it's a matter of life or death." Thoughts of the witch still hounded him, his fear of Radegunda as strong as ever. But if she could help Keriam, he would set his fears in abeyance.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "I'll do it."

"A solution to our problem, for now. But if Balor fails this time, I fear nothing will stop him from trying again. We must defeat him, find definite proof of his perfidy. If necessary, we can bring charges against the general and the other plotters."

"The very same thing I have worried about. If Balor fails, he will certainly try again." Keriam frowned. "But what charges? We have no proof!"

"None at present," Roric said, conscious of the challenge. "But if we imprison them--"

"His Majesty will never approve those methods."

"Then we must get the king out of the country, as we discussed earlier. Possibly when you both go to Elegia for the wedding, you can think of some excuse to keep him in that country."

"For how long? Indefinitely?"

"Let's deal with the Lug Festival for now. We'll see what opportunities present themselves after that." Roric clenched his hands. "As painful as it is to admit, we must be prepared for every eventuality. Goddess forbid that you fail in your mission, that you can't keep the king home from the festival. If that happens, you must have extra guards posted in the city square. We can trust the king's guards. I'll give orders to have them placed both near the dais, at every corner and oak tree, also mingling among the crowds."