The Crown of the Usurper (28 page)

  "I would serve in Askh, as a prime legislator, yes," said Asuhas. "Being governor is too fraught with peril in these times. I no longer wish to be a playing piece in the game of kings."

  "A wise choice," said Lakhyri, laying a skeletal hand on the governor's shoulder. Asuhas shrank back from the wizened priest. "Plans are in motion to disband the role of the governors. The Brotherhood will assume direct control of the provinces."

  "They will never allow a move against them," said Asuhas, earning himself frowns from Lakhyri and Urikh. He laughed nervously and shrugged. "What do I care, eh? If you want to get rid of the governors, it is of no consequence to me. Not if I am to be chancellor of Askh."

  "Or, like your peers in the province, if you are dead," said Urikh. "The governors will not say a word about their new position, because they will not have a chance. Word has been sent to the blackcrests. By decree of the king, all of the governors will be dead within days."

  "But, you do not have to kill me," said Asuhas.

  "I think you misjudge your company," Noran called out with a bitter laugh. "You are vain and ambitious, Asuhas, but you have never been ruthless. What did you call it, 'the game of kings'? Your new playmates play this game far more seriously than you, and you have just lost."

  "But I do not want to be a governor, that was our agreement," said Asuhas, stepping away from Lakhyri, hands held up to defend himself. "I will never speak out against you."

  "Chancellors are as redundant as governors, I am afraid," said Urikh.

  With a wordless yelp, Asuhas turned and started to run towards the door. Noran was not sure what happened next, but it was like a glimpse of a nightmare made real.

  The Hall of Askhos seemed to darken. The lamps dimmed though their flames did not flicker nor grow smaller. The shadows around the ceiling shifted and became a tenebrous mass that was suddenly animated with life. Dark tendrils snaked down towards Asuhas, tripping him as he ran. More shadowy coils extended from the darkness above, snatching up the governor by his limbs and throat.

  Noran did not want to look up; every fibre of his being screamed at him to keep his stare locked on the impassive expression of Urikh as the king watched Asuhas being lifted into the air by prehensile shadows. Despite this, despite the shriek of animal instinct warning him not to, Noran raised his eyes; just a fraction enough to see what was above him.

  There was not just darkness above. Translucent, yellowish points, multifaceted crystals that shone like stars in twilight. Noran realised that they were eyes, dozen of them. They regarded everything in the hall, reflecting the figures below, the thousands of names of dead men on the walls, and the glitter of each other. Some watched Noran with horrifying intensity, even as he was aware that other eyes were looking at Lakhyri, Asuhas and Urikh. Transfixed by those eyes Noran felt his flesh stripped away, his innards, the core of his being and his thoughts laid bare before those inhuman stares.

  The shadows seemed to be ribbed and ridged, the glimmer of the faded lamps catching on bony protrusions, dangling lash-like appendages and pale ropes of sinew. Rope-like tendons tightened and the shadows darkened and thrashed. Asuhas was lifted up into the central mass of the shadow, and Noran thought that he could see the ceiling through the terrifying manifestation; the tiles of the wall and the spars holding up the roof were visible behind the creature.

  Slithering, barbed tongues solidified, extruding from toothless maws spread around the monster's impossible form. These rasping feeder tendrils caressed Asuhas' flesh. He did not scream, but gave a moan of ecstasy instead, more disturbing than any bloodcurdling howl of agony. As the tongues moved over the governor, his skin disappeared, revealing fat, and then the tongues moved faster, exposing twisted muscle and sinew and then bone. Layer by layer Asuhas was stripped away, his blood becoming a cloud of vapour that was sucked into a pulsating, puckered hole.

  Noran's dinner rushed up from his gut. He bent double, vomiting up the contents of his stomach. Twice more he retched, interspersed with moans not of pain but of despair. Even as he dry heaved, his stomach clenched tightly around nothing, a tiny part of Noran's mind was thankful for the rebellion of his body; at least he was no longer looking up.

  "Now you understand fully why I must be obeyed," said Urikh. Through squinting eyes, Noran gazed at the king. Urikh looked frightened but was trying to act bravely. Noran wanted to laugh; there was no hiding the truth from that inhuman glare. It did not matter what Urikh pretended, his monstrous master would know his innermost secrets.

  "What have you done?" Noran whispered, but Urikh did not hear the question.

 

The wounds that lacerated Ullsaard's corpse were ugly, his chest and gut marked by three long cuts. Allenya reached out a hand towards her husband's body but stopped short of touching him. She wanted to trace those bloody furrows that had been slashed across his unmoving form, dark against the deathly pallor of the skin. His cheeks were sunken, and she was thankful that his eyes were closed, so that she did not have to look into their lifeless stare.

  She had no more tears to shed. The reality of his body gave her no release. Like Ullsaard, she felt nothing. War had taken her son and her husband, and their absence left an emptiness inside her that could not be filled. She had grieved, grieved so hard it had brought her to the edge of madness, but as she looked at the pallid remains laid on a covered table in the Hall of Askhos, she told herself that it was just meat and bones.

  "This is not my husband," she said.

  "Yes, yes it is, sister," said Luia. Allenya felt her hand grasped by Luia's but she could not take her eyes from Ullsaard.

  "No," said Allenya. "This is just the carcass of what he was. Ullsaard is not this cold lump of flesh."

  "He is a memory now," said Ullnaar, who stood by his father's feet, eyes averted. "This is not how we will remember him."

  "Speak for yourself." Noran's tone was full of bitterness and he darted hateful glances at Urikh, who sat on his throne, staring down at his family as though watching petitioners making their pleas. Now and then he looked up at the ceiling and his expression changed to one of worry. "I will be sure to fix this sight in my mind for the rest of my life."

  "War makes us all ugly," said Luia. "In life as well as in death. Ullsaard knew that and he chose to live the way he did. It was not likely that he would die in peace of old age."

  "How can you be so cold?" snapped Allenya, snatching her hand away from her sister's. "He was your husband! The father of your son, no less. Do you not owe him the decency of remembering that?"

  "He was those things, yes, and much more." Allenya saw no tears in Luia's eyes and her limbs did not tremble as did Meliu's as she hugged herself beside the bier, but Ullsaard's eldest widow saw for a moment torment in her sister. There had been little love between her husband and Luia, but they had found their role for one another and respected each other, in private if not openly.

  "I am sorry, my words are harsh and unwarranted," said Allenya, taking up Luia's hand again. "We mourn his passing each in our own way."

  "Enough of this morbid display," announced Urikh, stepping down from the dais of his throne. "We shall arrange a funeral feast in two nights' time and we can then say the proper words of passing to our departed king, father and husband. It does none of us well to remain here and stare at what has become of him."

  "I will remain a moment longer, with your leave," said Noran. Urikh nodded and led the family down the hall. As she passed, Allenya laid her hand on Noran's shoulder and squeezed it.

  "Do not be alone tonight," said the queen. Misunderstanding her meaning, Noran glanced at Meliu, who had not spoken a word since they had been told of the arrival of Ullsaard's remains. Allenya shook her head. "With friends who are like family to you, I mean."

  "I make no promises," said Noran.

  Allenya nodded in sympathy and then followed the rest of her family from the hall, her steps heavy as she walked on leaden legs, her heart feeling like it was being crushed in a clawed fist.

  She did not mark anything of the walk back to their apartment, and she murmured words of consolation and parting to her family when they arrived, seeking silence and solitude in her chambers. She called for Laasinia to bring spiced wine and a compound that would aid sleep and then sat by the window. It was mid-morning on a grey, rainy day and beyond the walls of the palace grounds Askh was going about its business. Allenya had persuaded Urikh not to yet make any pronouncement on the return of Ullsaard's body. Such an act would begin a fresh round of visitations from concerned nobles and merchants alike, all seeking to convey their condolences to the royal family for their loss. With the exception of a few, most would have never known Ullsaard, and their sycophancy would have been too much to bear again at this time.

  So the capital and the rest of the empire went on without a care of the passing of its former ruler, and Allenya sat by the window looking up at dark clouds gathering over the city.

  "King Ullsaard is dead," she whispered.

  She heard the door open and did not turn around, expecting it to be Laasinia. A cough attracted her attention and she looked towards the door. A young boy in the livery of a junior herald waited there, his small helmet clasped under one arm.

  "Your pardons, queen, but I have a message for you from Noran Astaan," said the youth, proffering a covered tablet. Allenya beckoned to the youth and he brought it over and laid it on the table beside her chair. With a bow, he left and Allenya sat staring at the sealed wax message.

  She did not open it until Laasinia had come and gone, leaving a steaming ewer of wine and a cloth bag of dried leaves. Waiting for the wine to cool a little, Allenya read the missive from Noran.

  The tablet dropped from her fingers from shock and the queen stared at the fallen slate for some time, not believing what she had read. When she had recovered her wits, Allenya scooped up the tablet and placed it inside the sash that belted her robe. She summoned Laasinia with a call and made ready to leave the apartments.

  "Where are we going, queen?" asked the handmaid as Allenya fastened a shawl about her shoulders and slipped her feet into a pair of stiff-soled slippers.

  "To meet an old acquaintance," replied the queen.

 

The table in front of Anglhan was littered with plates, on which there was little left except bones and scraps. Letting out a satisfied belch, he dipped his fingers in a bowl of water, dried them on the tablecloth and lifted up a goblet of wine. Just as the liquid reached his lips there was a knock at the door.

  "Enter!" Anglhan lowered his wine back to the table as the door opened and Queen Allenya stepped into the dining room. Surprised, he almost knocked over his chair as he stood up. "I was not expecting a royal visit, my queen."

  "I thought it would be better to come unannounced," said Allenya. She stopped on the other side of the table and her eyes swept the room, brow wrinkling with distaste as she saw the remains of the banquet on the table. "I see I have interrupted your celebratory feast."

  "Celebration, Queen?" Anglhan felt nervous all of a sudden, the Queen's stare more intense than anything he had been subjected to by anyone else. He reached out for his wine but his fumbling fingers knocked over the goblet, spilling red across the table.

  "You eat game and fowl and drink unwatered wine while my dead husband lies on a bier in the Hall of Askhos. Ullsaard is dead; I would think you find that cause for celebration."

  "Not at all, my Queen, not at all," said Anglhan. He stepped to the end of the table, hands outstretched in a gesture of innocence. "Ullsaard's death would be very inconvenient for me, as well as a tragedy for the empire."

  "Save your lies!" Allenya snarled. She snatched up a small clay dish and threw it at Anglhan. It went over his head and smashed on the wall behind him, marking the ochre paint with splashes of red sauce and rags of chicken skin.

  "I swear, Allenya, you have me wrong," said Anglhan. Panic set in when the queen picked up a carving knife from the table and stalked towards him. "Wait a moment, let's not be stupid."

  "Murderer!"

  Allenya hurled herself at Anglhan, knife raised in her fist. He fended away her first swipe, earning himself a scratch across the back of his hand. She lunged again, and he stepped back awkwardly, crashing into his chair. Impeded, he could not dodge the next cut, which sliced across his left cheek just below the eye.

  "Stop, you're making a mistake!" Anglhan cried, backing into the table. The cut on his face stung all the more as tears rolled down his blubbery cheeks. "Stop!"

  "Bastard son of a whore's arse!" Allenya shrieked, stabbing down at Anglhan's chest. He slid along the table to his right, the blade in catching him in the shoulder. "Pig-fucking killer!"

  Again and again Allenya slashed and stabbed, some of her wild blows going wide, others grazing and slicing Anglhan's flailing arms as he sought to back away. In desperation he grabbed a platter and swung blindly, hoping to knock the knife from her hand. He really did not want to hurt the queen, not now, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. Killing her would ruin everything he had worked so hard to bring about.

  The tray connected with the side of Allenya's head as she bent to slash at his groin. With a gut-shrivelling clang, it glanced from her skull and sent her down. Allenya hit the floor, head bouncing against the bare wood.

  "Oh shit, oh shit," gasped Anglhan. "Oh shit, I didn't mean…"

  Ignoring the blood streaming from his own wounds, Anglhan bent over Allenya. The side of her face was already swelling up into a bruise and the skin was broken just above her eye, a surprising amount of blood streaming down her face. There was a glazed look in her eyes.