Part 18 (1/2)
He arranged a spell for his door, then went to bed.
They came earlier than he expected, though he hadn't been sure they would come at all. The ward spell warned him. He rose sinuously, hefted his weapon, concealed himself.
There were three of them. He recognized Bors' hulking shape immediately. One of the others was shorter and thinner than the man he sought.He took Bors with a vicious throat swing, then gutted the short man, shoving a rag into his mouth before he could scream.
The third man didn't react in time to do anything. A sword tip rested at his adam's apple the instant it took the stranger to decide he wasn't the man. Then he died.
The stranger shrugged. He would have to visit the castle after all.
But first he lighted his lamp and studied the dead men.
He found nothing unusual.
Why would they commit murder for no more excuse than he had given?
He dressed in his new winter boots and coat, donned his greatcloak, sheathed his freshly cleaned sword.
Bors' wife waited in the common room.
The stranger's dark eyes met hers. There was no pity in his. ”I'll be leaving early. I have a refund coming.”
Terror restructured her face. She counted coins with fingers too shaky to keep hold.
The stranger pushed back two. ”Too much.” His voice was without emotion. But he couldn't resist a dramatic touch. He fished a coin from his purse. ”To cover the costs of damage done,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
The woman stared at the coin as he slipped out the door. On one side a crown had been struck. On the reverse there were words in writing she didn't recognize.
Once the door slammed she flew upstairs, tears streaming.
They had been laid out neatly, side by side. On each forehead, still smoking, was a tiny crown-brand.
She didn't know what it meant, but there were others in Hammerfest who had paid attention to news from the south. She would learn soon enough.
She and Bors had entertained a royal guest.
THIRTEEN: Regency
Colonel Oryon had no idea what had happened at Karak Strabger. He did know he rode with a man possessed. His hard-faced, grim companion, closed of mouth, perpetually angry, wasn't the Ragnarson he had accompanied eastward. This Ragnarson was an avenger, a death-Messiah. There was the feel of doom, of destiny, about him.
Oryon watched him punish his mount, and was afraid.
If this man didn't mellow he could set a continent aflame.
He knew no pain, needed no comforts, wanted no rest. He plunged on till Oryon, who prided himself on his toughness, could no longer stand the pace. And still he rode, leaving his companions at an inn ten miles from Vorgreberg.
”Derel!” he roared through the Palace, as he stalked toward his office. ”Prataxis!
You south coast f.a.ggot! Where the h.e.l.l are you? Get your useless a.s.s up here on the double.”
Prataxis materialized, partially dressed. ”Sir?””The Thing. I want it a.s.sembled. Now.”
”Sir? It's the middle of the night.”
”I don't give a d.a.m.n! Get those sons of b.i.t.c.hes down there in two hours. Or they'll find out what it was like in the old days. We never threw out the hardware from the dungeons. And if you don't get it done yesterday, you'll be first in line.”
”What's happened, sir?”
Ragnarson mellowed a little. ”Yes, something happened. And I've got to do something about it before the whole d.a.m.ned house of cards falls in on us. Go on. Go, go, go.” He waved a hand like a baker sending his boy into the streets, all rage gone.
”I'll explain later.”
He had arrived ahead of the news. And would stay ahead unless Oryon learned something, or Ragnar shot his mouth off. Ragnar had promised to say nothing, even to the ghost of his mother. Gjerdrum and Wachtel would keep everyone else locked up in Karak Strabger.
”Before I leave,” Prataxis said, ”there's a woman in town looking for you. She showed up the day after you left.”
”A woman? Who?”
”She wouldn't say. She gave the impression she was very friendly with bin Yousif.”
”Haroun? About time we heard from that.... No. I won't say that. I think I understand him now. Go on. I'll see her after I talk to the Thing. H ow many of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds are in town, anyway?”
”Most of them. It's getting close to Victory Day and time to debate the Guild appropriations. They don't want to miss that.”
”That won't be a problem anymore. I told Oryon to pack his bags. We'll pay them off. Thanks to you, Derel. You'll be rewarded.”
”Service is my reward, Marshall.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t. About two hundred Rebsamen dons fawning at your feet after you publish your thesis is what you're thinking about. You get the look a thief does when he sees loose gold whenever you talk about it.”
”As you say, Lord.”
”Get out of here. Wait! Before you go, send for Ahring, Blackfang, and Valther.”
”The Queen, sir. She ... ?”
”Derel, don't even think about her. If they ask, say I need a vote of confidence on my army alert.”
Blackfang and Valther arrived together.
”How're the kids, Haaken?” Bragi asked.
”Upset. You should see them.”
”As soon as I can. Valther, you get anything yet?”
”Not a whisper. But there's a woman here....”