Part 24 (1/2)

'Speak your minds.' Neither man said a word. Jianna's heart sank. 'Am I so terrifying, even to old friends?' she asked. 'Come, Malanek, speak.'

The old swordsman sighed, then took a deep breath. 'You are rather hard on those who speak their minds, Majesty.'

'Peshel Bar was a traitor. I did not have him killed because he spoke his mind. I had him killed because he tried to turn others against me.'

'Aye, by speaking his mind,' said Malanek. 'He thought you were wrong, and he said so to your face. Now no-one with any sense will tell you what they really think. They will just mouth the words they think you want to hear. But maybe I'm too old to care. So I will answer you, Majesty. I liked Skilgannon. Still do. That man - more than any other - fought to win you this throne. I say leave him alone. Let him be.'

'He murdered Damalon. Have you forgotten that?'

Malanek glanced at Askelus. The tall warrior said nothing. Malanek gave a wry laugh and shook his head. 'I had not forgotten, Majesty. Forgive me if I do not grieve for him. I never liked him.'

Jianna rose from her couch, her expression tense, her grey eyes angry. When she spoke, however, her voice was controlled, almost soft. 'Skilgannon betrayed me. He left without the permission of the Queen. He deserted my army. He stole a priceless artefact. You believe he should escape punishment for those crimes?'

'I have said my piece, Majesty,' said Malanek.

'And what of you, Askelus?' she asked.

'You are the Queen, Majesty. Those who obey your orders are loyal, those who do not are traitors. It is simple. Skilgannon did not obey your orders. It is for you to judge him - or forgive him. It is not for me to offer advice. I am merely a soldier.'

'You would kill him if I ordered it?'

'In a heartbeat.'

'Would it sadden you?'

'Yes, Majesty. It would sadden me greatly.'

Dismissing both men, Jianna saw the councillors who had been waiting, listened to their advice, made judgements, signed royal decrees, then called for Emparo, the blind harpist.

He was an old man, but if she closed her eyes and listened to his music, his soft singing voice, she could imagine what he must have been in his youth, golden-haired and sweetly handsome. She wished he could be young now, and that she could take him to her bed, and banish for a while all thoughts of the man whose face filled her mind, and whose form walked through her dreams.

Lying back on her couch, the sweet music filling the room, she remembered Skilgannon's look as she left the house that day to walk to the market. He had been so young then - a few weeks from sixteen. His handsome features were serious, his expression stern. She had wanted to lean in close and plant a kiss on that grim mouth. Instead she had walked away down the avenue, knowing that his eyes would not leave her until she turned the corner.

Jianna sighed. Tomorrow she would order him killed. Perhaps, when he was dead, she would stop dreaming of him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT WHEN SKILGANNON RETURNED TO THE Crimson Stag.

The tavern was almost empty. Druss was still sitting at his table, Diagoras stretched out on the floor beside him, fast asleep. Two Vagrian officers with braided blond hair were drinking quietly some distance away, and an old wolfhound was nosing around beneath the empty tables, looking for sc.r.a.ps.

'h.e.l.lo, laddie,' said Druss, his speech slurring mildly.

Skilgannon looked down at the unconscious Diagoras. 'The curse of the young,' said Druss.

'Can't hold their liquor. d.a.m.n, but I need some air.' Resting his ma.s.sive hands on the table he half pushed himself upright, then slumped back to his seat. 'On the other hand, it is pleasant sitting here,' he concluded.

'Let me give you a hand,' said Skilgannon. The older man's pale gaze locked with his own.

'I'll manage,' muttered Druss, heaving himself upright, and swaying. Easing himself from behind the table he walked to the front door and out into the night air. Skilgannon followed him. Druss rubbed at his eyes and groaned.

'Are you all right?'

'I am as long as I don't blink,' replied the axeman. 'I need something to clear my head.'

There was a water trough close by the wharf's edge. Druss staggered towards it, colliding with one of the Vagrian officers as they were leaving the tavern. The man fell heavily.

'Apologies,' muttered Druss, moving past them. The Vagrian pushed himself to his feet and glanced down at his cloak. It was smeared with horse droppings. He rushed after Druss, swearing at him. The axeman turned and raised his hands. 'Whoa, there!' he said.

'This noise is splitting my head. Speak quietly.'

'Speak quietly?' echoed the Vagrian. 'You drunken old Drenai fool.'

'Drunk I may be, laddie - but at least I don't smell of horse s.h.i.+t. Is that some new Vagrian fas.h.i.+on?'

The officer swore, then punched Druss full in the face with a straight left. The Vagrian was a big man, with wide shoulders, and Skilgannon winced as the blow thudded home. A second punch, a right cross, followed it. It never landed. Druss caught the man's fist and spun him, hurling the Vagrian into the horse trough. 'That should get the stains out,' he said. The second Vagrian ran at the old man. Druss blocked the punch, and grabbed the man by his throat and crotch. With one heave he lifted him above his head and staggered towards the edge of the wharf.

'Druss!' yelled Skilgannon. 'He's wearing a mails.h.i.+rt. He might drown.'

The axeman hesitated, then lowered the man to the ground. 'True,' he said. 'And we don't want to be drowning our allies, do we, laddie.'

The first officer had dragged himself from the trough. He was reaching for the hilt of his knife when the skinny form of s.h.i.+vas, the tavern owner, emerged from the Crimson Stag.

'What is going on here?' he asked. 'Are you fighting in my establishment?'

'You couldn't call it a fight, s.h.i.+vas,' said Druss, with a smile. 'A little gentle horseplay.'

'Well take it elsewhere - or take your business elsewhere. I'll have no troublemakers at the Crimson Stag. And I make no exceptions. Not even for you, Druss. And what do you expect me to do with that officer sleeping on my floor? If he stays the night he'll pay lodging like everyone else.'

'Put it on my bill, s.h.i.+vas,' said Druss.

'Don't think I won't,' muttered the tavern keeper, casting a malevolent gaze at the four men before returning inside.

The two Vagrians left without a word to Druss. The axeman walked over to Skilgannon.

'Strange race, the Vagrians,' he said. 'They'd fight to the death on the smallest matter of principle. No threat of pain or injury would stop them. Yet the thought of missing out on s.h.i.+vas's cooking has them scuttling away like frightened children.'

Skilgannon smiled. 'And how is your head?'

'Clearing, laddie. Just what I needed. A little gentle exercise.' Druss yawned and stretched.

'Now what I need is a little sleep.'

A figure moved from the shadows. Skilgannon saw it was the strange woman, Garianne.

'You're a little late for that meal, la.s.s,' said Druss. 'But you are welcome to share my room and I'll buy you a fine breakfast.'