The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (43 page)

The wastrel smiled. Elias’s ministers couldn’t afford to ignore such unrest. This volatile mood would only encourage the criminal element to commit atrocities, and the last thing the city needed was more trouble. Very soon now someone would come and speak to the mob, maybe invite the ringleaders into the castle. Therein lay his opportunity.

T
he fine meal went a long way toward mellowing the mood between Elias and his subordinate. Even Sofira seemed willing to abandon her hostility and proved a pleasant, if quiet, hostess. She made conversation with both General Blaine and Robin, although she studiously avoided Elias’s attempts to engage her attention. He was relieved the meal went as smoothly as it had. He’d anticipated long, frosty silences and awkward moments. Yet they had all managed to put aside their differences while doing justice to the truly delicious meal.

Elias complimented Lerric on his kitchen and allowed himself to be led into the comfortable, smaller room that served Lerric as both audience chamber and private living space. He was drawn over to the fire, where he and Blaine accepted their host’s offer of fellan laced with brandy.

Robin accepted the fellan but refused the liquor. He also politely refused Lerric’s invitation to join their discussions, saying he needed to check on his men. Blaine gave him permission to withdraw, and Elias inclined his head in approval. His stated reasons for visiting Lerric were spurious, as Robin knew, but even had they been real they wouldn’t have concerned a major in Elias’s forces. Lerric’s obvious desire to keep both the King’s Artesans where he could see them was good enough reason for Elias to deny him that comfort. Besides, Robin was technically still on duty. Elias’s security was his responsibility and it was perfectly natural for the commander of the King’s escort to oversee the deployment of his men.

Accepting the Major’s refusal, Lerric summoned a servant to convey him back to the barracks. He addressed the young man before he left.

“Major, I allow those of my men who are off duty to walk into town of an evening and relax in the tavern. It might foster good relations among our forces if some of your men accompanied them. What do you say?”

Robin bowed, his swift glance at the General going unnoticed by Lerric. “I will speak to the men, your Majesty, and suggest the idea. I thank you for your interest in their comfort. I’m sure they’ll have made friends by now among your guard. You know what soldiers are like.”

Lerric grinned as Robin withdrew, commenting to Blaine, “Are you sure you can’t spare that young man? I could use a few like him, even for a season. He could teach manners to some of my ministers. Mind you, my ministers would be locking away their wives, too fearful of their virtue should they set eyes on that handsome face.”

The General didn’t smile. “Your ministers would have no reason to fear Major Tamsen, your Majesty. He is happily married and far too honorable to behave improperly. But I fear his wife and young son might complain if I lent him to you. And I’d be hard-pressed to replace him, even for a season. He’s one of my finest officers.”

Elias hid a smile. He knew the tale behind Robin’s arrival and early years at the Manor and how close he’d come—on more than one occasion—to summary dismissal by the very man now singing his praises. The hotheaded, impetuous youth, a talented swordsman and the best shot with a bow the Manor had ever seen, hadn’t endeared himself to the General with his undisciplined ways and reluctance to accept authority. Elias firmly believed that if not for Hal Bullen, Robin would either have found himself before a military court for insubordination or killed in some rash and ill-considered action. Either one would have been a criminal waste.

Elias regarded Lerric, the turn of conversation leading him nicely toward his goal—the duplicitous discussion with Sofira about their children. He wanted to keep both her and her father talking, prick them into indiscretion if he could. They might just let something slip if their tongues were unguarded, and mention of either Seline or Eadan was guaranteed to provoke a reaction from the Princess.

“Where are all your ministers, Lerric? I’m surprised to find your palace quite so deserted.”

Lerric poured more brandy into Elias’s cup, avoiding contact with his sharp blue eyes. “This dreadful winter has affected my poor province badly. Most of my ministers run estates of their own, as I can’t afford to pay them enough to retain a permanent court. They always prefer to spend the middle winter months in their own homes. It’s quite usual for Sofira and me to find ourselves alone at this time, so we adjust the business of the province accordingly. This year, what with the weather and the roads still being so bad, not even my closest nobles have wanted to return, so we remain as you find us. But as the inclement weather has also prevented the recommencement of trade, it hardly matters. Bordenn is a small and insignificant region, as you know, so I’m not as incommoded by a lack of advisors as you’d be in my position.”

The King ignored Lerric’s reference to Bordenn’s poverty. “It’s also fortunate, is it not, that your lack of a court means you don’t have to attend to the repairs your palace needs?”

Elias’s casual question seemed to catch Lerric unawares. “Repairs?” he echoed, staring blankly at his guest. But he didn’t have to struggle long before he was coolly rescued by his daughter.

“I believe my Lord refers to the damaged lower floor, Father.”

Lerric flushed, but Sofira gave him no opportunity to compound his lapse. She addressed Elias. “My father isn’t troubled by such minor matters, my Lord. He has more pressing business on which to dwell, especially now he’s bereft of advisors. I try to carry the burden of such trivial concerns, and discuss them with the servants and the chatelaine. As the stonemasons who advised us on what was needed were reluctant to carry out repairs during this dreadful weather, I decided it would be best to abandon the lower floor entirely, make it secure, and leave it till the spring. It’s not as if we need the space. We don’t have the size of court you support even in summer when trade and the affairs of the province are at their height.”

Elias inclined his head. “You are prudent, Madam. You always did know how to manage your affairs to your best advantage.”

Silence fell and Elias wondered if Sofira would take offence at his double-edged statement. However, he’d put no inflection on his words and for Sofira to take exception would make her sound petty. The controlled stiffness in her tone as she replied was his answer.

“I thank you, my Lord, but you didn’t come here to compliment me on my handling of the housekeeping. I believe you wanted to discuss our children?”

Elias was disappointed his first attempt to prick her temper had failed, but he would have ample opportunity as the evening drew on. He was particularly keen to observe her reaction as he gave her a report of Eadan’s progress at the Manor. Her tantrum when he told her what Sullyan had said about Eadan’s emerging talent was still the subject of after-dinner conversation among his courtiers. He anticipated something similar when she learned of her son’s removal to Sullyan’s care.

“So I did, Madam, so I did. But before I do, would you like me to tell you what they’ve been up to lately? You must be hungry for news.”

Elias was well aware Sofira corresponded with Seline. He read all her letters to her daughter, as well as those Seline returned. So he knew his daughter hadn’t told Sofira of Eadan’s sojourn at the Manor, and she wouldn’t have had any word of her son for some while. He had much to tell her, for although Eadan was learning his letters as well as his more unusual lessons, he wasn’t yet able to construct a legible message.

Elias’s offer to share his children’s progress with her must have felt like crumbs from a beggar’s table to the Princess. She couldn’t refuse, however, despite her obvious outrage. He was right, she was desperate for news. Her throat tightening on the words, she managed to say, “My Lord is most kind.”

Elias smiled, enjoying the verbal fencing. Sofira possessed a sharp mind. It was a shame her tongue and her temper shared the same characteristic. Facing her squarely, holding her gaze, he said, “I don’t believe you know that your son has been taken for training at the King’s College. He was accepted as an Artesan Apprentice nearly three weeks ago. You’ll be pleased to hear that the reports I’ve received from Colonel Sullyan speak highly of his progress so far.”

If Elias had hoped for an uncontrolled outburst, he was disappointed. Lerric gasped, but all the High King saw from Sofira was a further paling of her face and a tightening of her eyes. There must have been a very real struggle taking place within her heart, but all she did was clench her hands on the arm of her chair, striving for outward calm.

+ + + + +

I
n truth, Sofira wasn’t so surprised to hear of this development. Ever since Elias told her, with pride and relish, her only son had somehow inherited the very gifts she so despised, she had expected such news. He was too absurdly pleased with his innovative College not to have his son patronize the place. But she hadn’t expected Eadan to be sent there so young. He was only four years old, for goodness sake, far too young to be living among strangers.

Yet she couldn’t speak her mind, not with General Blaine sitting there absorbing every word and nuance of her reactions. They already knew she would disapprove, so she might as well allow herself to show it. But she’d be damned if she’d give Elias the satisfaction of witnessing the full extent of her fury. Besides, if she gave free rein to her feelings, her father might say something stupid.

She took a steadying breath. “Was that wise, my Lord? Is he not too young to be sent so far from home?”

Elias smiled infuriatingly and launched into a full description of how Eadan had settled in, what he was learning, and his antics among his fellow Apprentices. And, presumably because he knew it would anger her, he especially mentioned the boy’s fast-developing friendship with the young Andaryan seaman, Jay’el.

Despite her anger, frustration, and sense of helplessness, Sofira listened avidly, unimpressed by her son’s achievements as an Artesan but soaking up every other item of news Elias let fall. The King, knowing her opinions on the subject of outlanders, was clearly surprised when she showed interest in the College’s first non-human student, and answered her questions as best he could. Sofira couched her queries around her son, but still managed to elicit the information that Jay’el was courting the sister of the woman chosen by the Andaryan co-ruler Aeyron as his bride-to-be, and that Aeyron would probably bring his intended to the Citadel soon to introduce her to his people.

Remembering the Baron’s careful instructions over eliciting what information she could, Sofira tried to be artful and casual in her manner. She convinced Elias she was concerned over the effect mixing with outlanders might have upon their son, and was so natural about it she was sure he didn’t suspected her ulterior motives. His intentions for this visit were being turned on him without his even knowing.

+ + + + +

R
obin was grateful for the opportunity to escape the verbal contest he knew would ensue once Elias and Sofira locked horns. He would have to return to their company once he’d seen to the men, but hoped by that time the worst of the bloodshed would be over. Maybe the embittered Princess would have retired, hopefully after giving away something they could use.

So far, Robin had seen little evidence of treasonous conspiracy between Lerric and his daughter, and certainly no traces of them hiding the Baron. He had watched Sofira closely during the time spent in her company and had detected no falsehood behind her words, only an understandable undercurrent of tension or dislike. Of course, this ability of Artesans to sense deviousness wasn’t infallible, and some were better at it than others. But Robin was a Master and had been so for three years now. He trusted his instincts.

He followed Lerric’s servant through the neglected hallways until they came to the east tower door. He nodded to the guard there and received an answering salute, smarter than those given the guests as they’d arrived. He smiled grimly. News of their party’s efficiency and discipline traveled fast. He imagined after Bassan’s humiliating treatment at Robin’s hands, the Captain had gone swiftly through his men, kicking a few backsides and smartening them up. He certainly hoped so. Disgruntled soldiers were likelier to spill their grievances to sympathetic ears. He had already told his lads to fabricate grumbles of their own. It wouldn’t do to appear too perfect.

Nodding thanks to his escort, he stepped out into the icy teeth of a strengthening wind. He clattered down the stairway, not wishing to stay exposed to this dreadful cold. Such conditions meant he’d have to convince Dexter and the men it really was in the interests of their King to accompany Lerric’s guards to the tavern. At least it wasn’t snowing, and the permission he was about to grant them—a moderate consumption of alcohol—should sweeten the pill.

He entered their quarters quietly, pleased to see a card school already in progress at the far end. Dexter sat with two of his men and four of Lerric’s, and the mellow gleam of copper bits showed in front of most of them. Robin waved them down as his men stood, Lerric’s rising more slowly.

“No need for ceremony, lads, you’re all off duty. Dex, his Majesty King Lerric has informed me that on certain nights he permits his off duty men to patronize the local tavern. Have you heard of this?”

Dexter grinned, laying down his cards. “Yes, sir, Rhys here was just telling us about it.”

Robin nodded at the shabby man, whose furtive gaze spoke volumes. He relaxed when he realized Robin wasn’t angry.

“Well, I give you leave to go, if any of you want to.” Robin’s casual tone belied the meaningful stare he gave Dexter. “And as I’ve given you leave to go, I suppose I’ll also have to give you leave to sample the local ale.”