The Temple Road Page 2

  The Bleakwatch lived up to its name: oppressive and chilly. The upper stories had the barren feel of a tomb. The walls were ashen stone, the floors black slate, and the fireplaces bricked with a type of glittering stone that Scarlet had never seen before. It reminded him of flint, but harder, etched with pale, intricate silver lines that seemed almost like writing.

  Liall had gravely informed him that the black stones were not rock at all, but scales from a fanged predator of the deep waters. Scarlet had looked at the hearth dubiously. The stones appeared very heavy, and Liall claimed there were tens of thousands of such scales on the creature. Scarlet marveled at the greatness of a beast that could carry that weight on its back.

  He pulled his sleeping robe closer about his nakedness. If he were at the Nauhinir, Nenos would just now be bustling into the bedroom, asking him how he wanted his che, or if he wanted a bath right away or after food. Nenos’s kind attentiveness had embarrassed him so many times. Now, he missed the old man.

  The door opened behind him, and he knew who it was without looking. “Margun Rook,” he said.

  Margun bowed his head. “My lord. How did you know?”

  Scarlet crossed his arms and turned. Margun was armed today, a two-handed broadsword buckled about his narrow hips. His eyes were hard and the twin sweeps of gray hair framing his face did nothing to soften his aspect.

  “Something about you irritates me,” Scarlet said. “And I haven’t figured out how yet, but I know when you’re around.”

  “Your magic?” Margun asked with brows raised.

  Scarlet shrugged.

  Margun looked troubled as he nodded to the outer hall. “King Nazheradei sends that he is pressed with matters of state. I am your companion today, my lord.”

  “You can call me ser or Scarlet, but not my lord. Not for everyday.”

  “As you wish, but a title is not a garment, ser,” Margun argued, even as he gave in. “It will not wear out with the use.”

  “Says you. It’s wearing out with me already.” Scarlet frowned. “Where’s Jochi?”

  “There is a solar at the end of the hall, ser,” Margun said by way of answer. His mouth stretched into a bland smile. “The solar served as the queen’s apartments when she graced Sul with her presence. I think you’ll find it much more welcoming than the rest of the tower.”

  “Couldn’t be any worse.” Scarlet glanced around for his day clothes, but a servant must have taken them. He cleared his throat and pulled the collar of his robe close around his neck. “I don’t seem to have anything to wear.”

  “The matter is being seen to, ser.” Margun abruptly left and closed the door.

  What in Deva’s hell? Nothing for it but to wait. He sank down on the edge of the bed and nibbled on a hanging fingernail. Shortly, the door opened again and Chos entered, carrying a new set of clothes folded over one arm and a pair of boots in his hand.

  “Ser,” Chos murmured.

  “Oh, hello again.” Scarlet was surprised to see Chos. He noted the polite “ser”, which was far less than the formal my lord that Liall insisted upon, but Liall was not around to hear it, so he let it go. “I thought you’d gone back to the Nauhinir by now. Is Dvi here, too?”

  Chos lowered his eyes. “Dvi does not care for travel, ser. I asked Nenos if I might remain and attend the king on his journey.” He laid the clothes on a chair and folded his hands. “Do you need my help to dress?”

  Chos’s manner was baffling. To the king, he was always excessively attentive, but to Scarlet he was cool without being rude, helpful without seeming to want to be of help. Like Alexyin, Chos’s dislike had become too plain to ignore.

  But Chos has a very different reason, Scarlet thought.

  “No. I can manage it,” he said slowly, uncertain how to proceed. “Just how far are you traveling with the army?”

  Chos bowed again. “As far as my king desires, ser.”

  “Is that so? Well, a king needs a royal back-scrubber, I suppose,” he said, and immediately regretted how mean and unfair his words were. If Chos was infatuated with Liall, he could hardly blame him. Who could resist loving the Wolf? “Forgive me, Chos. That was rude. I’m not myself today.”

  Chos’s back was stiff as he looked down at Scarlet. “Will that be all, ser?”

  Scarlet sighed. “Bring che and bread, please. And honey if we have it. Oh, and some hot water for me to wash.” He copied one of Liall’s gestures and waved Chos away in dismissal.

  TIDIED AS WELL AS HE could make himself with the basin of tepid water Chos had provided, Scarlet dressed in a pair of black breeches and a plain gray virca trimmed in white fur at the wrists and neck. He wondered if the fur was bear, wolf, or even rabbit, and decided he didn’t much care. It was warm.

  A golden door drew him all the way to the end of the long hall attached to his rooms. Arriving at it, he realized the door was smooth brass polished to a mirror sheen. He pushed the door open and stood amazed. The solar was paneled in golden wood inlaid with intricate designs of sunbursts, wheat sheaves, and tall ships. It was a hall that was almost Hilurin in design, artistic and welcoming. A crackling fire filled the hearth, painting a warm glow on the gleaming wooden floor. Wide chairs upholstered with rich brocade and velvet were arranged about the hearth in a cozy arc.

  Margun stood waiting near the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. By the window, Jochi turned as Scarlet entered, a che cup in his hand. Both men bowed.

  Scarlet grinned at Jochi. “I was afraid you’d be gone by now, friend.”

  The wide window behind Jochi curved outward to a view of the North Sea far below. The waters were gray and choppy with a brisk wind. Jochi smiled and placed his cup on a table. “King Nazheradei allowed me to remain and travel to Starhold with you. It’s easier to travel with the army than it is to send an escort for one man.”

  Scarlet chuckled. “We’re all going in the same direction, anyroad. I’m happy you’re still with us.”

  Jochi seemed pleased. “Thank you.” He nodded to Margun. “You have already met with your new guard captain, I hear.”

  Margun bowed again as Scarlet took measure of him. “We actually met at the Nauhinir. I didn’t know he was my guard at the time.”

  “I'm happy to tell you that you have your own guard company now,” Jochi continued. “The king has charged ser Margun with the task, who has formed the keriss solda in your honor. He will wear your sigil and serve you. He will continue your studies as well, if you like. If not, another tutor can be found.”

  Scarlet frowned. So, this was the man Liall meant to take Jochi's place.

  Margun’s hair was loose to his hips and he wore his fine armor with a soldier’s ease. His cuirass was of shining steel plate, hammered and molded to the shape of a man's muscled form in front and back. It hung from his shoulders by thick leather straps inlaid with hinged steel plates. His familiar broadsword was sheathed at his waist, and a red badge was affixed to the armor of his left breast: a golden flower like a flame, set against a field of crimson. Tesk’s design.

  Margun noted Scarlet’s gaze and touched the red badge with two fingers. “I am prepared to swear my allegiance formally now, ser.”

  “Later, perhaps,” Scarlet answered cautiously. “After I know what accepting a Rshani’s allegiance means.”

  “That’s very wise, ser,” Margun said. “As you wish.”

  “Where’s Liall?”

  “He is meeting with an envoy of Uzna-Minor, I believe,” Margun said.

  That news set the spot between Scarlet’s shoulder blades to itching. “Eleferi is in Sul?”

  “His steward, ser,” Jochi said. “Who acts as his proxy.”

  Scarlet frowned. “Something’s been puzzling me. Isn’t Magur closer to your sacred mountain than Starhold?”

  “As the hawk flies, much closer,” Jochi answered.

  “Then why did Liall have the troops that were already there march all the way back to Starhold? Wouldn’t it have been easier to for us to go to the
m, rather than t’other way round?”

  Jochi exchanged an amused look with Margun. “Because of the Temple Road, ser, which begins in Sul and travels past Nau Karmun into the interior. Much of the land of Rshan is impassable, especially in the spring. In the far north and the center of the continent, especially so. A small party, with great skill and light provisions, might chance it, but there is only one way to move an army to Ged Fanorl, and that is by the road the Ancients built.”

  “Ah.” Scarlet nodded. “I knew ice was dangerous, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”

  “Portions of Rshan are that bad,” Jochi corrected. “The coasts are generally safe for travel, even for an army. The snowpack deeper into the land is centuries old and very treacherous. Rifts can open anywhere, at any time.” He smiled. “However, the Temple Road is very safe. You need have no fear.”

  “So long as I stay on the road.” He nodded. “That’s pedlar’s wisdom if I ever heard it.”

  Jochi chuckled. “Just so.” He glanced at Margun again and his smile faltered.

  Uh-oh, Scarlet thought. “What?”

  “The baroness of Uzna-Minor presented herself at the tower this morning. She pleads for an audience with you.”

  “She does, does she?” Scarlet shook his head, his annoyance plain. “I thought my sister was the only woman who could get my back up like she does. What in three hells could Shikhoza want with me?”

  “I don’t know, ser. It would have been inappropriate for me to inquire.”

  Scarlet glanced at Margun. “Do you know?”

  “No,” Margun smiled a little. “But I’ll be happy to ask the bitch, if you like.”

  Jochi’s expression turned to distaste, though he kept silent. It looked to Scarlet as if he were having great difficulty doing so.

  “If you’re going to speak Bizye at me, that’s not a word Hilurin use when talking about a woman. Any woman,” Scarlet said. “Still, I take it you’ve met Shikhoza.”

  “I served her father in S’geth before joining the Setna. She was a haughty girl.”

  “That’s not a crime. All nobles are haughty.”

  “But not all nobles are cruel. Even Shikhoza’s own mother did not care for her company.”

  Scarlet had not known Margun was one of the brotherhood. He was unlike any other Setna Scarlet had met so far. “Where would I meet with her?”

  “Not in this room, ser. A meeting in the queen’s solar could be misconstrued. Perhaps the greathall? It’s very open and there will be many witnesses. The baroness will never be able to claim she spoke to you in private.”

  At Scarlet’s nod, Margun bowed and left.

  “Do you know Margun very well?” Scarlet asked Jochi.

  Jochi took up his cup again and drank. “I do,” he said shortly.

  “Do you trust him?”

  “The king would say that no man can ever really trust a Setna.”

  Jochi was holding something back. “And what do you say?”

  “That some very good men personally chose Margun and have vouched for his honor. Tesk, in particular, believes him to be loyal.”

  Scarlet hummed and tightened the wrist laces of his virca. “Anyroad, it’s done. At least he has no love for Shikhoza.” But I’m going to miss you so. He squared his shoulders and summoned a smile. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  THE CEILING OF THE greathall soared forty feet above his head, supported by twenty or more massive columns of stone. Great lamps hung down from the arched rafters, aglow with blue flames. Patrolling guards and tower servants threaded through the arcade columns like a ribbon-dance Scarlet had once seen in Rusa. A hundred errands seemed to be happening all at once.

  Margun led him to a hooded figure who waited by one of the many fireplaces in the hall. The hearth was cold and she was nearly hidden by a storied column that could have supported the roof by itself, but Scarlet recognized her.

  Margun stopped them twenty feet away and motioned to her to come forward. He declined to announce her, earning him an acid look from Shikhoza.

  Margun gave her a placid smile. “Everyone knows who you are, baroness.”

  In the blue light, she looked less beautiful than she might have in the golden solar. She was not young, but she was elegant and imposing, every inch a noblewoman. Shikhoza wore snow bear fur from head to toe, her hair beneath the fur hood bound up in a gemmed net. When she moved, Scarlet caught glimpses of her brilliant blue gown beneath, and her tightly-bound breasts threatening to spill out from the satin.

  She dipped her knees in a short curtsey. “Ser Keriss.”

  “What is it you want with me?” Scarlet was glad his voice was even. Since the moment they had met, Shikhoza had gone far out of her way to make herself his enemy. He didn't owe her any courtesy.

  Margun bowed and took a few steps back, and Shikhoza folded her hands meekly, though she was much taller than him.

  “How have you been, ser?”

  “Splendid.”

  “And the king?”

  “Mag-ni-fi-cent.”

  “I hope your journey was not too tiring. But then, you are used to rough travel, from your days when you were a... what was it? A pedlar?”

  Scarlet's eyes narrowed. “Correct. Pedlar. Otherwise known as a traveling merchant.”

  “A merchant. That was it. I don't know what I would do without my cloth merchant. He travels all the way up from Sul just to measure me for my gowns.”

  Does he bring enough tape? Scarlet bit his tongue. He was not going to rise to this. He'd suffered enough of her insults at the palace. He sighed, waiting for her to tire herself out.

  Shikhoza looked at down at his plain clothing and sniffed. “Your taste in clothing suits you. Good peasant attire. Just what’s needed for a hard journey.”

  “Especially for peasants.”

  She snorted, making even that sound like a refined gesture. “No doubt you are much more accustomed to rough living than I am.”

  “No doubt.” He shook his head. “Deva’s hell, you’re a marvel, you know that? I can't wait to hear what falls from your mouth next, since you’ve never spoken a word to me that wasn't to stick pins and watch me flinch. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not flinching anymore.”

  Shikhoza's bright smile was unwavering. “Ser, I'm afraid you—”

  “I don’t think you’re afraid of anything, except maybe Liall. No... you don’t fear the king, just his power, and you really hate the fact that you can't have any of it. That must make you furious. He killed his kin, thanks to you, but then he lost the crown and you got nothing, not even the dead brother you didn't want. That's what comes of your games: ruin and misery all around.”

  The smile vanished and in its place was a pane of glacial ice. “Ser Keriss has me at a disadvantage.”

  “Good,” he snapped. “Get used to it. You played your game with Liall and you lost. Can't you get that through your head?”

  “There is no losing in the royal court, my dear Keriss,” Shikhoza said gently. She folded her hands. “Not while you're still alive. There is only waiting and biding your time until your enemy makes a mistake.” She looked over her shoulder.

  Scarlet followed her gaze and saw a stout man in the shadow of an arch. “Friend of yours?”

  “Of yours, ser.”

  He was instantly wary. Margun’s fingers crept toward his sword.

  Shikhoza stayed Margun with a raised hand. “There is no need for that. He is unarmed.” She looked down at Scarlet. “And ser Keriss knows the man. He knows him very well.”

  Scarlet stared openly at the stranger, and something familiar about the man’s stance told him who it was. He thought for a long moment, then decided.

  “Tell him to come here,” he said. He looked at Margun. “It’s all right.”

  Shikhoza motioned, and the hooded man approached. He did not throw back his hood, but the greathall was well-lit. The man was not as tall as Liall, and his body was bulky, with shoulders like a bull
and legs like young oaks. His face, what Scarlet could see of it under the hood, was lined as leather.

  “Captain Qixa,” Scarlet murmured, amazed.

  Qixa inclined his head slightly. “Little Byzan,” he greeted in his gruff voice. “Still a long way from home, I see.” Qixa’s mouth was tight, his eyes narrowed but merry.

  Scarlet’s mouth twitched. “Yes. I'm glad to see you in good health, Captain.”

  Qixa dipped his head further. “The sea gods have been good to me, nothing but profit and prospering from their watery hands since we carried the king over the water. I sing their praises every dawn from the deck of my Lady.”

  “Captain Qixa was my protector aboard the Ostre Sul,” Scarlet said to Margun, speaking for the benefit of any ears that might be listening. It was not truly a lie. “He saved my life during the battle.” Which was not a lie at all.

  “Saved your life?” Qixa chuckled and bowed his head again. “I split a Minh in two because he put his filthy boots on my deck. That he was about to make two of you at the same time was coincidence. But I am at your service, all the same.”

  Margun moved closer to them. “Enough,” he hissed. “State your business, mariner.”

  Shikhoza watched everything, a corner of her mouth curled up like a cat’s tail.

  “Overmorrow, at the third hour past noon,” Qixa said abruptly to Scarlet. “The docks. Look for my sails.”

  Margun pushed himself between Qixa and Scarlet. “Ser Keriss is not going aboard your ship.”

  “Did I say I wanted him aboard my fucking ship?” Qixa growled dangerously. “I have information for the king. A warning.” His gaze flicked to Scarlet and softened. “You were lucky for us on the crossing,” he said lowly. “We mariners believe in luck. When we took you aboard, my men were certain we were doomed. A lenilyn on the deck, and marked besides? Disaster. The crew said you would anger the Undergods, the sea lords of storm-wrack, foam, and squirming things. When the king slept, they urged me to put a knife in your back and gift you to the waves. I didn't do it, and not from fear of the king, you can be sure. King Nazheradei is a fearsome swordsman, but we were many, and he was one.”