The Shadowed Throne Page 7

  “The Throne!” Torc exclaimed. “Of course!”

  “Taranis’ Throne!” said the Master of Trade.

  “It’s said great King Taranis himself was crowned there,” said Saeddryn. “King Arenadd became a man there.” She allowed herself a smile. “I was married there. What better place could there be for a Queen to have her womanhood ceremony?”

  “It’s perfect!” said Torc.

  Saeddryn bowed again, hands clasped over her stomach. “What do ye say, my lady? Come to the Throne with me, an’ learn what it is to be a darkwoman. The Night God will embrace ye, an’, at last, yer soul will be whole.”

  Oeka stirred. “And we shall see our territory while we travel there.”

  Everyone looked at Laela.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said eventually.

  “It’s settled then,” said Saeddryn. “Now if ye don’t mind, I should go. I’m an old woman, an’ I need my rest.”

  “Don’t let me keep yeh up,” Laela said graciously.

  Saeddryn left, exalting silently. It was all so easy. The mountains were a harsh place, the harshest in Tara. They had claimed many lives in the past. Anyone who went there unprepared, anyone with an inner weakness—anyone not worthy to be in those mountains would be claimed by them.

  And Laela would be next. Saeddryn had no doubt about that at all.

  As she left, the High Priestess was too frayed to notice the scarred shape that watched her from the shadows.

  Nobody saw Ravana, and he liked it that way. At least, people saw him, but they didn’t notice him. He was used to it. Growing up as a slave from birth, he had always been seen but not noticed. Slaves were supposed to be invisible—noticed only when they failed to do their work the way they should.

  Ravana didn’t mind. To him, life had always been about pleasing somebody. It didn’t matter who gave the commands, or what they were, as long as somebody did. Ravana needed a master. It was what made the world make sense to him. When he had a master, everything came down to two simple rules. He must please his master, and everything he did must be to protect that master.

  Being unseen only made following those rules easier. During the meeting that morning, he stayed close to Laela and watched everything that happened around them both. Nobody looked at him or tried to speak to him.

  The fact that he could not speak their language made those around him assume that he couldn’t understand anything. He was stupid in their eyes, and mute as well. Ravana didn’t care. It was just another weapon he could use to defend his master. People were careless around him, they didn’t try to hide their feelings. They assumed he would be oblivious.

  But Ravana was not stupid, and he did not need language to know what he needed to.

  He watched the council talk, and once again his gaze fell on Saeddryn in particular. Since the beginning of his service to the Queen, he had seen the High Priestess many times and had seen how they were to each other. Saeddryn was insolent; she would look the Queen in the face—even shout at her. Ravana knew for a fact that she had threatened her more than once. It was all in how she moved, how she looked at her.

  Ravana did not like that. It infuriated him to see such disrepect to a great and powerful ruler like this Queen he served. It confused him, too, that the Queen had not had the old woman’s tongue torn out. None of his previous masters would have let her go unpunished.

  He thought about it for a long time, day after day, turning the problem over in his mind. Normally it would not be his concern when someone was rude toward his master, but he had become convinced that this Saeddryn was a threat to the Queen, and that was something that could not be tolerated.

  In the end, he asked Inva to explain.

  “The old woman is the Queen’s relative,” she told him. “She plotted to take the throne before our Queen took it from her. The Queen cannot risk killing her, or there would be an uprising.”

  Ravana’s brows lowered. “So this woman is an enemy to the Queen?”

  “She has not tried to attack her, but she is insolent and will not do as she is commanded.”

  “Then she’s a rebel,” Ravana said.

  Inva lowered her voice even though nobody listening could have understood what she was saying. “The Queen is afraid that one day the High Priestess will try to kill or overthrow her. The royal griffin believes the same, and has urged her to strike first.”

  Ravana said nothing to that, but his suspicions had been cemented, and on the day after the Temple burned, and he saw the pure hatred in Saeddryn’s eye and heard the false change in her voice, he made up his mind. This woman was a danger and must be plotting something already. It was madness to leave her alive, and he, Ravana, must fulfil his duty and protect his master by removing this traitor at once.

  He did not ask the Queen for permission or wait for her to give him the order. That wasn’t necessary. Matters like this were for him to deal with; the Queen was too high and dignified to even speak of those things.

  Even so, remembering that this was a land where things were done differently, Ravana took one final precaution. On the evening after the burning of the Temple, he waited until the Queen had finished what she had been doing and motioned Inva over to translate for him.

  “Master.” He knelt.

  The Queen looked down on him and spoke.

  “‘What is it that you want, Ravana?’” Inva translated.

  “To ask a question,” said Ravana. “Only one question.”

  The Queen replied, and Inva nodded. “You have permission.”

  Ravana looked up. “Do you trust me to protect you in all ways, Master?”

  The Queen looked a little puzzled, but then she smiled.

  “‘Completely,’” Inva said.

  “Then do you give me your permission to do all that I must do to protect you, Master?”

  Laela nodded sternly.

  “She trusts you, Ravana,” Inva said.

  There was a gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, Master. I will obey.”

  The Queen lost interest after that, apparently thinking there was nothing left to talk about. She was right. Ravana had heard all he needed to hear. He had her permission—no, her command—to act.

  Most of his plan was already prepared. He knew most of the Eyrie by now, and his memory for directions was excellent. He had used his newfound wealth to pay one or two of his fellow Amorani-speaking servants for their help. They had gathered the information he needed—the whereabouts of the High Priestess’ home, and a description of its interior.

  Armed with the knowledge, Ravana began to plot. Rigid and silent, he stood outside the Queen’s bedchamber that night, and thought. Everything was in place now, and the sooner he acted, the better.

  He had persuaded Inva to employ a second bodyguard. The newcomer wasn’t as good as Ravana, but he was strong and well trained and would be enough to keep guarding the Queen while Ravana was away.

  Ravana felt the hilt of the dagger touching his chest. Now.

  He relaxed out of his guarding stance and nodded to his colleague. “Stay. I check hallway.” He said it in the fractured Northern he had learnt, and the other guard nodded back.

  Ravana left his spear leaning against the doorframe and slipped away.

  The darkened corridors of the Eyrie were utterly silent at this hour. The lamps had been snuffed, and there were no other guards about. In this foolish country, only the Queen herself had her own guards. Ravana was glad—it would only make his work easier.

  He moved quickly, counting the doorways until he reached the one that must belong to the High Priestess. He had passed it many times.

  The door was locked, but Ravana had come prepared. A piece of twisted wire opened it in no time.

  He pushed the door open only the tiniest amount. His bribes had greased the hinges, and they didn’t make a sound. Ravana s
lid through the impossibly small gap and closed the door behind him.

  It was even darker beyond.

  Ravana flattened himself against the wall and waited. He let his senses expand, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ears opening to the slightest sound. He could feel the slightest breeze coming in through the griffin nest adjoining the bedroom. Just ahead and left of where he stood, soft breathing told him exactly where the traitor slept.

  Still, he waited. His night-vision was excellent, and he knew just what to look for. Long experience made it even easier.

  There! He saw the faint glisten of moonlight on hair.

  Step by step, he moved closer to the bed, until he was standing over it. His hand went into his tunic and brought out the dagger, and he removed the leather wrapping around the blade with extreme care. The blade had been coated in poison, and the slightest cut could kill him.

  The High Priestess stirred and mumbled in her sleep. Ravana tensed. It was now or never. It didn’t matter where he struck, so long as the blade penetrated. He aimed for the traitor’s upper body, and struck.

  The blade hit something soft, twisted sideways and embedded itself in the mattress. Quick as a weasel, Ravana recovered and struck again, but before the dagger could complete its movement a scream broke the night. The High Priestess had rolled away from him, and she was up and stumbling away from the bed. Ravana cursed and vaulted over it.

  He was too late.

  Something huge reared up, taking shape in the archway that led to the nest. Griffin!

  Even then, Ravana did not give in. He ignored this new threat and went after Saeddryn. She was old and slow, and he cornered her and caught her by the hair. His fingers were slick with sweat, but his mind was dominated by only one thought. Finish it! Finish now!

  It was his last thought.

  Huge talons hit him, in the midriff. The blow was so powerful that it lifted him up and smashed him into the opposite wall. He never even had time to scream.

  In the silence that followed, Saeddryn picked herself up. Her head ached viciously, and her heart was fluttering enough to make her sick. She stumbled over to the lamp and lit it with a cinder from the fire.

  Aenae was already beside her, but neither of them said a thing. They stood together, both breathing hard, and looked down on the intruder.

  Ravana lay up against the wall where he had fallen, his body twisted so far that it looked like two half bodies put together the wrong way around. Aenae’s talons had gone so deep that only his spine was left to hold him together.

  “The half-breed’s favourite guard,” Saeddryn mumbled. “He wanted . . .”

  “He hurt you,” Aenae said. “You are bleeding.”

  Her hand went to her forehead. It came away sticky. “Just my hair. Thankye, Aenae.”

  It was a perfunctory thanks, but neither of them expected anything else.

  “So the half-breed has made her move,” said Aenae.

  His look toward Saeddryn was expectant. She nodded with difficulty. “The time’s come t’do things yer own way now, Aenae. Go an’ get yer harness, an’ I’ll get dressed.”

  He waited until she had barricaded the door, then disappeared into his nest. When he returned with his harness dangling from his beak, Saeddryn had put on a plain set of clothes—leather leggings and a warm tunic lined with fur. She took some money and a few pieces of jewellery from a drawer and stuffed them into her pocket.

  Finally, she went to the fireplace and lifted down a sickle. It was weathered, and the tip had been broken off, but the blade was still sharp.

  “Oh by the holy Night God’s eye, how I’ve missed ye,” Saeddryn murmured, and tucked it into her belt.

  Aenae had been waiting impatiently. Saeddryn hurried toward him and put his harness on.

  “Will your mate be safe?” he asked.

  “I warned him about what could happen,” said Saeddryn. “He knows what t’do when the time’s right, an’ I trust him t’do it. Now, let’s go.”

  She climbed onto her partner’s back. Aenae snorted aggressively and walked off through his nest. He paused to take a drink from the trough, then charged out onto the balcony. Without slowing, he launched himself from the edge and into the sky.

  Saeddryn, hanging on tightly, felt something she hadn’t expected to feel and hadn’t felt in a long time: excitement. She had grown tired and angry, after too many years of doing nothing but talk and look after the Temple. Now the Temple was gone, and her time spent in Malvern, playing the game of politics, was over. Now it was time to play a new game, one she had played in her youth and never realised how much she had missed.

  War.

  6

  Under an Ugly Sky

  Inva brought Laela the news next morning, before she had even eaten. She had already noticed Ravana’s absence, and she sat in stunned silence as Inva told her, quickly and tersely, what had happened.

  “Ravana has been found in the High Priestess’ room. He is dead.”

  Laela’s throat tightened. “How?”

  “By griffin. Nobody doubts that.”

  “Aenae,” Oeka hissed.

  “Why was he in there?” said Laela.

  “To assassinate the High Priestess.” Inva said it without any hint that she was guessing.

  Laela swore. “Are yeh sure?”

  “There was a dagger by his hand,” said Inva. “And I knew that he would try already.”

  “How? Why? I never told him to do it.”

  “No, but it was his duty to protect you, my lady. His kind are trained from birth to do all in their power to defend their master—even if that means to kill someone they believe is a threat.”

  “What?” Laela yelled. “How in the gods’ names am I gonna run this place if people who’re meant to be workin’ for me go an’ do whatever they want? I never told him to do nothin’!”

  Inva flinched. “But you did give him permission, my lady. Yesterday, he asked for your leave to do whatever he felt was necessary to protect you. He took you at your word.”

  Laela twined her hair around her fingers and wrenched at it. “Fine,” she growled. “What else happened? Is Saeddryn dead?”

  “No. The High Priestess and her partner are both gone from the city.”

  Laela snatched up a vase and hurled it at the wall. Before the pieces had finished falling, she lifted her face to the ceiling and screamed. It was a loud, indecipherable bellow of pure fury. Oeka stood up and added her own voice, but not even she could drown out the Queen’s rage.

  Inva backed away, almost crouching in fright.

  The sound took a long time to die away.

  Shoulders heaving, Laela pointed at Inva. “Go find Iorwerth. Bring him, an’ Garnoc, an’ everyone else what knows fightin’. Send ’em to the council chamber, an’ don’t let them stop to pack. But before that, go an’ tell the guards to go arrest Lord Torc. Lock him up an’ don’t let him out of anyone’s sight. Any man what lets him get away loses his manhood. Move!”

  Inva nodded once and ran out.

  Laela sat down and massaged her temples. “Burn in Gryphus’ fires, Ravana. An’ may Saeddryn go with yeh.”

  Oeka didn’t blink. “What shall you tell the council?”

  “I’m gonna tell ’em the truth. It’s war.”

  “And Saeddryn?”

  “She’s dead. I’m puttin’ out an order. Anyone meets her an’ doesn’t kill her is a traitor.”

  “Can you guess where she has gone?” said Oeka.

  “Gone to find her brood, that’s where,” said Laela. “She must’ve been plannin’ this from day one. Now she thinks I’ve made a move, she’s gonna do what she did before. Rebel.”

  “She will die for it,” said Oeka. “I shall watch her die with pleasure, and more so if I am the one to have made that death.”

  “I didn’t want
this t’happen,” Laela moaned. “Gods damn it all.”

  “We shall win,” said Oeka.

  Laela gave her a look. “That so?”

  “Yes,” the little griffin said firmly. “We shall win because I am with you, and I shall never be defeated.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear, right enough.” Laela stood up. “C’mon. Time to do it your way, Oeka.”

  “War?” Lord Iorwerth looked distressed.

  Laela nodded, unsmiling.

  “But surely—I can understand why the High Priestess fled. She must have thought ye wanted her dead, and no wonder. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “It does,” Laela interrupted. “Listen, all of yeh. Saeddryn’s wanted my throne for years. Why did yeh think King Arenadd left? She was plottin’ against him. He already knew. That’s why he named me his heir; to be ready when the time came.”

  “But why did he run?” Garnoc demanded. “He could’ve squashed her like a fly.”

  “Because he knew if he stayed an’ fought her, it’d mean war. He didn’t want to fight his own people, Garnoc. He told me, ‘I built this Kingdom, an’ I’m damned if I’ll help tear it apart.’ I left her alone for the same reason—thought I could negotiate. I needed her on my side, an’ I thought if she knew I could arrest her if I wanted, she’d do everythin’ to make me happy. I was wrong, an’ now Ravana’s forced my hand. She wants me gone the way she wanted my father gone, an’ if it comes to war, then so be it. I’ll rise to that.”

  “She’s right,” said Iorwerth. “Saeddryn never thought Queen Laela had the right to rule, an’ she’ll fight to change it. We all know what she’s like.”

  “She always resented King Arenadd,” Garnoc muttered.

  “And loved him,” said Iorwerth.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Loved him?” said Laela. “What d’yeh mean? I never saw her smile at him once.”

  “He was meant to marry her,” said Iorwerth. “Not many people know that, only some of the old guard. Her mother always told her never to marry any man except a Taranisäii. When Arenadd came, she expected to marry him. But he refused her, see? Turned her down for this other woman who came with him.”