Wolfblade (16 page)

Venira hesitated, glancing at Alija before he answered. “Why, I believe it was one of Lord Eaglespike’s vassals, your highness. Lord and Lady Garkin
of Kinsae. Lord Garkin’s gambling debts left him somewhat . . . financially embarrassed, shall we say? I was fortunate enough to be able to assist him by purchasing Corin.”

Marla cast her eye over him disinterestedly. He was all right, she supposed, but not really to her taste. She looked around the courtyard and spied something in the far corner. “What’s that?”

“That is Elezaar the Fool, your highness.”

“The Fool?” Marla asked. “What is it?”

“A rare and expensive creature,” Venira told her, although he was looking at Alija whose eyes had narrowed suspiciously. “A Loronged
court’esa
who doubles as a Fool.”

“There’d not be many of those around,” Alija remarked.

“The only one in existence,” Venira confirmed.

Marla stared at the slaver and her cousin curiously. It seemed as if there was another, unspoken conversation going on between them. “Can I see him?”

Alija shook her head, but did not deny the princess. “Some half-witted dwarf is not why we came here, Marla.”

“I know. But he sounds interesting.”

“Bring him out, then,” Alija sighed. “The sooner she sates her curiosity, the sooner we can get back to the business at hand.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Venira hurried off and returned a few moments later with the ugliest creature Marla had ever laid eyes on. He stood no taller than Venira’s waist and his back hunched unevenly, forcing his neck forward which made him appear to be begging simply by looking up. He walked with a rolling gait that seemed quite painful and one eye was clouded white and obviously blind.

“This is Elezaar the Dwarf, your highness,” Venira announced.

“How much do you want for Corin?” Alija asked, dismissing the dwarf with a glance.

“Perhaps you would care to join me over some tea, my lady, and we can discuss the price?” He smiled indulgently at Marla. “I am sure her highness will be entertained by the Fool while we’re engaged.”

“You go on ahead, Lady Alija,” Marla said. “I’ll just keep looking.”

“Very well.”

Marla waited until Alija and Venira had disappeared through the double doors before she turned to the dwarf.

“What do you do?”

“Teach the art of pleasure, your highness,” the dwarf explained. “Both your own and the pleasure of your future husband.”

Marla was shocked that the creature had dared to answer her so bluntly. She glared at him. “For your information, worm, I have no intention of bringing
any pleasure at all to a husband. Or letting a creature like you lay a finger on me.”

“That is your choice, my lady. I am here to serve you. Or not,” he added with a bow. “As my lady wishes.”

T
he sight of Alija Eaglespike stepping into Venira’s Emporium almost brought Elezaar undone. Two days without being discovered had begun to foster the false hope in him that he might just survive Ronan Dell’s massacre. But as soon as the Lady of Dregian Province caught sight of him he knew he was done for. Nothing could save him now.

Except perhaps, he realised at that moment, the High Prince’s unsuspecting little sister . . .

Elezaar bowed as elegantly as he could, his mind racing. There was nothing obvious he could offer this woman-child. She obviously found his physical appearance repulsive. At such a young age, she wasn’t at Venira’s Slave Emporium looking for something to tempt her jaded palate. Like everyone else in Greenharbour, Elezaar knew the High Prince was trying to broker a deal with the King of Fardohnya. Ronan Dell had been talking of nothing else to his cronies in the days before he was murdered. No, Marla Wolfblade was here because she was after someone like Lorince, or Darnel. Someone to teach her the skills she needed in the bedroom before she married Hablet of Fardohnya. Someone like the newcomer, Corin.

The dwarf glanced over at the handsome young
court’esa
suspiciously. Corin had arrived just this morning. Venira had hurried him through the building and placed him in the showroom without so much as checking him for fleas. That wasn’t like the slaver. He was jealous of his good reputation and would do nothing to risk it.

Still, even if Princess Marla wanted Corin for her bed, Elezaar had to find a way to make her want him as well. To be purchased by the High Prince’s sister would do more than protect him from Alija. It might well put him right out of her reach.

“How did someone like you get to be a
court’esa
anyway?” the princess
asked. Elezaar quickly revised his opinion of the young woman. She wasn’t repulsed by him. Merely curious. “Aren’t you too ugly? Too short?”

“There are some who find my short ugliness appealing, your highness. Even arousing. Those people who like things that are . . . a little . . . different.

“So what are you trained in? Besides perverted sexual practices?”

The dwarf smiled. “There are no perversions, your highness. Merely different perspectives.”

“I’ll bet you cling to that philosophy. But you must do something else. Do you tell jokes?” The princess seemed amused by him. It probably wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

“I am trained as a historian, your highness,” he informed her, wondering what Alija and Venira were talking about. Was Alija arranging to buy him as they spoke? Demanding that he be handed over to her? Was he to be taken from here and delivered straight into the bowels of hell?

“And what else?” the princess asked.

Elezaar treated her to his most charming smile. “I play the lyre, tell jokes, and speak several languages fluently. My real skill lies in a less tangible area, however,” he added, desperation making him bold. “And it’s that which makes me so valuable to you.”

Marla smiled at his nerve. “What special gift? Do you have a cock as long as your forearm, or something?”

“Alas, it is Lorince who has been blessed by the gods in that area. I have a talent for politics, your highness.”

Marla was disappointed. “Is that all?”

Elezaar was genuinely horrified. “Is that
all
? Have you no concept of the power I can bring you, your highness?”

“What power?” She laughed sceptically. “You’re a
court’esa
. And a short, ugly one, at that. You have no power!”

Elezaar had so little time. His palms were sweating as he struggled to maintain an outward air of calm while Alija was probably arranging his death in the next room while that fat slug, Venira, munched grapes and spilled the juice down his chin.

“I can show you how to manipulate men, your highness,” he told her, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “I can show you how to make them do as you desire, not the other way around.”

“Any
court’esa
can teach me that,” Marla pointed out with a shrug.

“I don’t mean just in the bedroom,” he told her, almost whispering now. “I mean
anywhere
. Any place. I can show you how to rule even a king or a prince, if only—”

Elezaar cut his words off abruptly as Dherin approached. The older slave coughed politely before bowing low to Marla. “Your highness, the Lady Alija asks if you have decided on the slave Corin yet, or if you wish to see more.”

Marla looked across at the
court’esa
in question, eyeing him up and down thoughtfully.

“He’s very handsome,” the slave added, hoping to push her into a decision.

“But to say ‘yes’ is tantamount to giving in,” Elezaar said quietly behind her.

Marla turned to him in surprise. “What did you say?”

“Selecting a
court’esa
is tantamount to agreeing with the fate the High Prince has in store for you, isn’t it?” he suggested. Elezaar was only guessing, but at this point he had nothing to lose. Alija was probably buying him right this minute. He had only one chance to impress the Princess Marla or his life was over anyway.

“How do you know what my brother has arranged for me?” she demanded suspiciously.

“The whole of Hythria knows about the offer for your hand from the Fardohnyan king, your highness. And I’m sure you don’t object to the principle of being
court’esa
trained,” he said, taking a wild stab in the dark about the reason for her obvious reluctance to pick a
court’esa
. “But it’s one thing to be taught the art of love so you can come to the bed of a man you love to give him pleasure all night long. It’s quite another to agree to learn the same skills to entertain some foreigner who, in the normal course of events, you wouldn’t have spared the time of day.”

Marla stared at him in astonishment. She said nothing. Elezaar couldn’t tell if he’d impressed her or merely hastened his demise by insulting a member of the royal family.

“Your highness?” Dherin prompted.

“Tell Lady Alija I will take the dwarf.”

Elezaar almost fainted with relief at her words.

Dherin was aghast. “Your
highness
?”

“I want the dwarf.”

“But your highness,” the slave ventured cautiously. “For a young lady such as yourself to be taught by such a . . . creature—”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Of course not, your highness,” he hurried to assure her with a grovelling bow.

“Then go and tell the Lady Alija I have made my choice and I want the Fool.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

The slave backed out of the courtyard, bowing as he went. Marla turned to stare at her newly acquired chattel, shaking her head at the folly of what she had just done.

Elezaar gave her a lopsided smile. “I am yours to command, your highness.”

“Then I command you to—”

“Marla! What is this nonsense about buying the dwarf?” Alija demanded before Marla could add anything further. The Lady of Dregian Province strode back into the showroom with Venira on her heels, a look of intense displeasure marring her lovely face.

“I want him,” Marla shrugged, as if that was all the explanation she needed.

Alija stared at the young woman for a moment, as if debating something, and then, inexplicably, she smiled.

“Then we’ll take them both.”

“
Both
, my lady?” Venira gasped.

“The High Prince can pay for the Fool. You may send the account for Corin to me. Barnardo and I will make a gift of him to our cousin. As a birthday present.”

“There’s really no need,” the princess assured her, as the sorcerer deftly sidestepped Marla’s plans to prevent being
court’esa
trained. “Besides, I couldn’t possibly accept such an expensive gift.”

“Nonsense, child!” Alija scoffed. “You’re a princess and soon to be a queen. Nothing is too good for you.”

“But, my lady—”

Corin is Alija’s spy
, Elezaar realised, as she insisted that Marla accept her offering.
I’m not out of the woods yet
. . .

“See to it, Venira,” Alija commanded. “Have them sent to the palace. Today.”

Without waiting for the slaver to reply, she took Marla’s arm and linked it through her own. “And now that’s taken care of, my dear, I think we should visit my dressmaker. We really should take this opportunity to see about buying you some more fashionable clothes.”

Elezaar watched them leave then looked over at Corin. Venira had claimed he was a poet. Was he an assassin, too? He didn’t wear the raven ring of the Assassins’ Guild but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill if Alija ordered him to.

“So it seems we’re to be housemates,” the young man said with a knowing smile.

“So it seems,” Elezaar agreed cautiously, wondering if Corin’s apparently harmless statement was actually a threat.

I may have just stepped out of the pot and into the kiln
, he realised with despair.

But he had confronted Alija Eaglespike and was still alive and that, in itself, was nothing short of a miracle.

D
espite the Convocation of Warlords approving his inheritance, Laran Krakenshield’s thirtieth birthday was an occasion for celebration for very few people. His mother, Jeryma, was pleased, no doubt, and probably his youngest half-sister, Riika. His other half-sister, Darilyn, hadn’t stopped lamenting her own woes for long enough to notice her brother was having a birthday. His half-brother Mahkas was, more than likely, already making a list of the titles he thought he deserved as the only brother of Krakandar’s Warlord.