“I do not see a problem with that, Majesty. There is food enough.”
“There is now, Askelus. But travel a little further down this road and what do you see? Men and women who no longer have to work for food. They breed and they multiply, producing more and more people who do not have to work for food. Where do they then live, these people who do not work? Ah, then we give them free houses perhaps, and horses so that they may travel. What of clothes to wear? How can they afford them, these people who do not work? And who pays for this road to madness, Askelus?”
He had not been convinced and had spoken of building more schools, and the training of the poor to give them new skills. This idea did have appeal. Jianna’s new empire would need more skilled men and women. So she had allocated funds from the treasury for the creation of more schools, teachers, and even the building of a university. Askelus had been delighted.
As time passed Jianna continued to use the secret passageway, traveling more and more through the city. Shopkeepers and tavern owners came to know her, and she built a new identity. She was Sashan, the wife of a traveling merchant. She even bought a cheap, silver wedding band, which she wore on her right wrist. This kept most of the single men from bothering her as she moved through the city. The ones untroubled by the band she sent on their way with harsh words and a flash of her eyes.
An area a mile south of the palace became a favorite haunt for her. There was a square here, and a marketplace. Women would often gather around the well at the center of the square. There were benches and seats, and the women would chat to one another about life, and love, and the raising of children. It was rare that politics entered the discussion. Even so Jianna found sitting among them hugely enjoyable.
It was there that she met Samias, the wife of a local builder. Often she would have three young children with her, and would watch them run around the square, peeking at items on the stalls. They would squabble good naturedly, or play. Samias would open her bag and remove parcels of food, and the children would sit by her feet, munching on pies, or cake or fruit. Samias was a tall woman, heavy around the hips. She constantly smiled as she watched her children. Only on the days when she was alone did her smile fade, and then Jianna saw the sadness in her eyes.
They spoke often. Mostly Jianna listened. Samias was contentedly married. Her husband was “a good man, sound and caring” and her children were a constant delight. “Life is good, so I musn’t complain,” she said, one day.
“Why do you talk of complaining?”
Samias seemed surprised. “Did I? Oh, its just a phrase.”
“You love your husband?”
“Of course. What a silly question. Wonderful man. Very good with the children. What about your man? Is he kind?”
“He’s pleasant enough,” said Jianna, suddenly unwilling to create more lies.
“That’s good. I expect you miss him when he’s away. Traveling merchant, isn’t he?”
“Yes. I don’t love him, though.”
“Ooh, you shouldn’t say that. Best to try to love him. Makes life more bearable if you can convince yourself.”
“The man I truly loved went away,” Jianna found herself saying. “I wanted him more than anyone else I have ever met. He is in my mind constantly.”
“Ah, we all have someone like that,” said Samias. “What was he like?”
“Handsome, with eyes of sapphire blue.”
“Why did he go away?”
“I wouldn’t marry him. I had other plans. We traveled together once, through a forest. Looking back I think it was the happiest time of my life. I can remember every day.” Jianna laughed. “We were hungry and we came across a rabbit with its leg caught in a trapper’s noose. He went to it and knelt beside it. The little thing was trembling, so he stroked it. Then he carefully cut the noose. I looked at him and said: “Well, are you going to kill it and cook it?” He picked the rabbit up and stroked it again. “It has such beautiful eyes,” he said, then put the rabbit down and walked away from it.”
“Softhearted then? Some men are.”
“In some ways he was. In others he was ruthless. We were attacked in the woods.” Jianna fell silent. “Ah well, long ago now,” she said, at last, realizing she was coming too close to the truth.
“Who attacked you?”
“Robbers,” said Jianna, swiftly.
“How awful!” said Samias. “What happened? Did your lover fight them off?”
“Yes, he fought. He was a fine fighter. I must go now. My . . . husband will be waiting for me.” Jianna rose from her seat.
“Try not to dwell upon the past, dear,” said Samias. “We can’t change it, you know. We can only live with what we have now. Once I loved a man with all my heart. He was the sun and moon of all my desires. He was a soldier of the king. You know, the old king, Bokram. He was sent out into the forest of Delian after a murderer. We were due to be wed within the month. He was killed there. And that was it for me. My life all but ended.”
“I am so sorry,” said Jianna, surprised that she meant it.
“A long time ago now, Sashan. And my husband is a good man. Oh yes. Very kind.”
“Did they catch the murderer?”
“No. He was an awful man. He murdered the people who raised him after his father died. Cut them up, he did. Tortured them. Can you believe that? Then he fled the city with a young whore. My Jeranon and a group of soldiers almost caught them. That’s what I was told. There was a fight and Jeranon was killed. Some others too. And the evil pair escaped. They were never found.”
Jianna felt a sudden chill touch her heart. “Did he have a name, this murderer?”
“Aye. His name was Skilgannon. I never heard the whore’s name.” Samias shrugged. “The Source will punish them, though. If there is any justice.”
“Perhaps the Source already has,” said Jianna.
As Jianna made her way back to the Royal Park she thought of how Askelus would have enjoyed listening to her conversation with Samias. Never before had Jianna considered the lives of those soldiers who had almost trapped her in the forest of Delian. They had just been men with swords, ordered to capture her. She tried to remember their faces, but only one came to mind, a bearded man with florid features and savage eyes. He had wanted to rape her, but was overruled by the others.
Skilgannon and she had parted an hour earlier, after harsh words. It was difficult now to recall exactly what the argument had been about. Once they left the city, and were traveling together, they seemed to grate on each other. Looking back with the full wisdom of her twenty-five years, Jianna could see now that the tension was sexual. She had longed to be intimate with the young warrior. She smiled. Abstinence had never been agreeable to her. It was much the same for Skilgannon. So they bickered and argued. Finally, two days after escaping the city, they had agreed to separate, Jianna striking out north toward a tribal settlement where she believed she would be safe.
An hour later she had been surrounded and chased down by soldiers. Fleet of foot, she had almost escaped them. She had been scrambling up a steep slope when she grabbed hold of a jutting tree root for purchase. The root snapped off, and she tumbled back down the muddy slope. They grabbed her then.
“Got to be her,” said the soldier with the florid face. “Look at her.” Grabbing her by the neck, he dragged her head down and ran his hand over her shorn hair. “See, there’s still traces of the blond dye.”
“What’s your name, girl?” asked another man. Jianna couldn’t remember his face now, except that he was thin. She didn’t answer him.
There were five soldiers in the group and they gathered around her. “What did she do?” someone asked.
“Who cares?” answered the florid man. “Boranius said she was important. That’s all that matters. Beautiful legs and arse, hasn’t she?” he continued, running a callused hand over her thighs. “Reckon we ought to sample this one.”
“No, we don’t,” said someone else. Jianna wondered now if this was the yo
ung man Samias had spoken of. “We just take her back.”
“I am Princess Jianna,” she said. “The tyrant wants me dead. He has already killed my mother and father. Take me north and I shall see you rewarded.”
“Oh yes, you look like a princess, right enough,” said Florid Face. “Stupid bitch! You need a better story than that.”
“It is the truth. Why do you think you were sent out? What whore would be worth that trouble? I’ll wager you are not the only troops out here.”
“Suppose she’s right?” said someone else.
“What if she is?” demanded Florid Face. “Nothing to do with us. There’s a new king now. New kings always kill their rivals. And how would she reward us, eh? There’s nowhere safe for her. The only reward she can offer is between her legs. And we can have that now. I never drilled a princess before. Think it’s any different?”
“You’ll never know,” came the voice of Skilgannon. Jianna still remembered the leap in her heart. It was not because she thought she was rescued. In that instant she believed them both to be ruined. It was merely the sound of his voice, and the knowledge he had come back for her.
The soldiers turned to see the young man. He was standing some ten feet from them. In his right hand he held a short, stabbing sword, in his left a wickedly sharp hunting knife. Sunlight gleamed upon the blades.
“Would you look at that?” said Florid Face, contemptuously. “Be careful with those blades, boy. You might cut yourself.”
“Let her go or die,” said Skilgannon, calmly. “There are no other choices.”
“Will someone take those swords away from him?” said Florid Face. “He is beginning to annoy me.”
Two men drew their sabers and advanced on Skilgannon. He stood very still for a moment, and when he moved the effect was startling. One man fell back, his throat gouting blood. The second cried out as the hunting knife plunged into his chest, spearing his heart. Before the other soldiers could react he leapt forward, the short sword cleaving into the belly of another soldier, even as the man struggled to draw his saber. Jianna’s hand reached out, pulling a knife from a scabbard at Florid Face’s side. He was too surprised at the sudden violence to notice. He was even more surprised when the blade lanced into his chest just below the sternum. It went deep. He gave a groan and, releasing Jianna, staggered back. The fifth soldier ran for his life. Florid Face clumsily dragged his saber from its scabbard and tried to attack Skilgannon. But his legs buckled and he fell to his knees, blood pumping from his chest. Weakly he lashed out with his saber, but Skilgannon stepped back from the swing.
“Time to go,” he told Jianna. She looked into his face. His sapphire eyes were cold, like ice crystals. She shivered.
“I agree,” she told him.
The story of the rescue in the forest grew in the years that followed. Jianna had heard many versions. In some she had been dressed in armor and had fought and killed three men herself. In others the Damned had defeated six swordmasters. The reality was that the action had been short, bloody, and brutal. Jianna had stayed free, and Samias had lost the love of her life.
This was what Askelus had meant when he spoke of a compassionate society. The concentration on individual loss and grief, rather than the effect of an action on society as a whole.
Back at the park Jianna sat on a bench close to the undergrowth that hid the entrance to the secret passageway. She was forced to wait for some time as people were constantly moving along the pathways, or sitting by the fountains.
Finally she stood and eased her way back into the undergrowth, squatting down and lifting the grille.
The lantern was still burning at the lower doorway. Holding it high she locked the door and moved back along the passageway. She had left instructions that she was not to be disturbed until two hours after noon, but the time was close.
Almost too close.
In the hidden chamber behind the paneling she stripped off her ordinary clothes, then entered the apartment, strolling naked through to her bedroom. Just then two servant girls entered, bowed, and told her that Malanek was waiting outside. She ordered them to prepare her bath, then swung a pale blue satin robe around her shoulders.
One of the servants ushered Malanek into the main room. He looked tired, his face drawn. “I am glad you got some extra rest, Majesty,” he said.
“You should take your own advice, Malanek. You look exhausted.”
He gave a weary smile. “I keep forgetting I am no longer a youngster.” He sighed. “There is news from Mellicane, Majesty. Did you have a change of heart about Skilgannon?”
“No. Why would I?”
“There was an assassination attempt upon him. Led by a Naashanite named Servaj Das.”
“It was not by my order, Malanek. Skilgannon is free to go where he wishes.”
Malanek nodded. “That pleases me, Majesty. But it leaves me wondering who else would want Skilgannon dead.”
She looked at him closely. “I do not need to lie to you, my friend. When I took your advice to let him go, I did so freely. Had I wanted him killed I would have told you.”
“I know that, Jianna,” he said, forgetting himself for a moment. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Gesturing him to a couch, she sat beside him. “What is worrying you?”
“I have been studying the reports on Mellicane. The man Ironmask made a great many contacts within the Naashanite community. Many of his men are also former soldiers of ours. Most were rebels, though not all. According to our sources in Mellicane, Servaj Das worked for him. We have little information on Ironmask, save that he is not from Tantria. His accent showed that he was not Ventrian. It seems he is not known either in Datia or Dospilis. He could be from across the water, Drenan, Gothir, Vagria. But what if he is a Naashanite?”
Jianna shrugged. “Why should I care?”
“He is a charismatic leader of men. We know this. He has gathered warriors to him, many of whom fought against you. Where did such a man come from? And there is something else. Our sources among the Datian officers say that when they entered the palace he used, they found chambers below with blood-spattered walls. They also found severed fingers and hands.”
The queen sat very still. “The man whose name we do not speak was killed in battle. Skilgannon slashed away half of his face, and then stabbed him through the heart. I have seen the reports of this Ironmask. The wearing of the mask is merely a deceit. His face is not mutilated, merely discolored.”
“His body was never found. Supposing he was healed, Majesty? There are reports of a temple in Pelucid, and a priestess who can work miracles.”
“These are not reports. They are rumors. Myths. Like flying lizards, and winged horses.”
“The man whose name we do not speak almost defeated us. If he still lives he is a threat to everything you are trying to build. It may even be that these recent attempts on your life can be traced back to him.”
“Now you are making me uneasy!” she snapped. “I do not believe the dead can return to haunt me.”
“No, Majesty. Nor would I—had I been able to find his body. But if you did not instruct Servaj Das to murder Skilgannon, and no one in our embassy did so, then Ironmask is the only other link. That being the case the question is: Why would Ironmask seek the death of Skilgannon, a man he does not know, and who is no threat to him?”
“Where is Skilgannon now?”
“Still in Mellicane, but he is preparing to journey north. I have a report from contacts in the Drenai embassy that he intends to travel with the warrior, Druss. They are going to Pelucid. Druss intends to kill Ironmask. Why Skilgannon travels with him is a mystery. The Datians are also sending a force to Pelucid. They want to capture Ironmask themselves. Apparently several of his victims were prominent Datian nobles.”
“Then I suspect the mystery will be resolved before long,” said Jianna.
“Until it is, Majesty, we need to be careful for your safety. No unnecessary risks. If the man we do not name is still
alive, then the danger to you is very real.”
“I do not take unnecessary risks, Malanek. And a ruler is always in danger.”
15
* * *
Diagoras had plotted the route with care, and carried copies of maps that showed the mountains, rivers, and passes north of Mellicane. By the third day of travel he had begun to enjoy himself. In his saddlebag were copious notes on the positions of villages where they could obtain supplies, the names of headmen to be offered gifts, and details of areas of likely danger. These were mostly in the mountainous areas close to Pelucid where bands of robbers were known to have hideouts. Diagoras had used his military training well. He had also gathered all known information on the man Shakusan Ironmask. This did not amount to much, though one piece of news interested Skilgannon. Three years before, when Ironmask had first appeared in Mellicane, he had fought a duel. According to the report he used curved swords, which were contained in a single scabbard. The report also said he was a man of prodigious strength, because one blow cut through a breastplate and the chain mail beneath. A second cut had beheaded the victim.
The first day of travel had been taken at leisure. The horses Skilgannon had acquired were undernourished and, though of good stock, were weak. They needed resting often. In the few days they had been kept at the Drenai compound, Diagoras had ordered them grain fed and gently exercised, but they were still far from fit. By the third day of travel they were already growing stronger.
The twins, Jared and Nian, had met them on the road on the morning of the second day. Both were riding shaggy hill ponies, tough beasts and surly. They would snap at the taller cavalry horses if any rider was foolish enough to come close to them. The brothers took to riding close to the two-wheeled supply wagon, driven by Druss.
As he rode Diagoras would often glance at Garianne. She rode a gray mare, and kept herself a little apart from the company, even at night when they camped. She would sit alone, and occassionally be seen talking to herself. The youth Rabalyn often rode alongside Diagoras, asking constant questions. His joy at being invited on the journey was untainted by any fear of the consequences. He loved to ride, and in the evenings would spend an hour tending to his horse, brushing its back or stroking its neck. Rabalyn was a natural rider and would one day be a fine swordsman. He had good balance and fast hands. He was also a quick learner.