The Forlorn(53)

The sea was not the blue which Keilin remembered looking at from his rooftop eyrie in Port Tinarana. Instead, it surged red-brown with the silt of the hillsides. But the smell of salt was enough to distract him, to trigger memories of the security of his bookstand nest and recall the contentment of a good absorbing read. It took the edge off his concentration. He did not spot the scouts in the tangle of brush and palmetto. The rain-laden breeze off the sea meant they were downwind from Beywulf's keen nose. The party rode down a long sand spit between the calm brown lagoon and the churned brown sea. If the lagoon mouth was open it would undoubtably have the usual laconic ferryman, who after a glance at Cap, would give up any attempt to overcharge them.

The race of brown water from the storms in the hills spewed out of the mouth and tangled and frothed with the breakers. The ferry lines hung down, their cut ends dangling and dripping as a coarse mist of raindrops settled on them.

Beywulf sighed. "We've a fine choice. Bloody sharks in that riptide," he pointed to the black shapes visible in a cresting wave, "or going inland and having crocodiles and quicksand in the mangrove swamps."

Cap looked over his shoulder, his eagle eyes squinting into the mizzle. "There is one choice you left out." He pointed. "We might just end up dying right here." In the grayness they could just make out the advancing horsemen. At least two hundred of them in military array across the entire sand spit. "Too many for some petty bandits . . . and too well disciplined. Probably some local baron bent on raising revenues the easy way. Let me try and talk our way out of it."

But as they rode closer it became obvious that it was no local baron. The stiff black horsehair crests on the helmet of the Tyn States Cuirassiers bristled with raindrops. Beside him Keilin heard Kim's sharp intake of breath as a tall man with a finely-carved bloodless face rode out of their midst. His voice was dry, sardonic. "Why," asked the self-proclaimed Emperor, "do you persist in making me travel about in the rain, Princess?"





CHAPTER 10


Keilin looked about, startled. He could only be referring to Leyla, surely. Kim was just a thief . . . wasn't she? One look at her white, frightened face was sufficient to convince him otherwise. "Princess Shael. Hadn't you better induce your lowborn companions to lower their weapons?"

"Why?" she burst out. "Why don't you just leave me alone? What are you going to do with me this time? Give me to another pervert to torture, or just hand me over to the Morkth?"

He waved a languid hand. "That is no way for a future Empress to talk. All that is almost past."

"Empress?! After what you did to me!"

He shrugged. "Part of the exigencies of seizing power, my dear. You, after all, should know that these little excesses are necessary. But now you will be restored to power, influence and comfort. No more struggling to survive with a group of vagabond . . . jewel thieves. Amphir's arm is long, but not long enough to take anything from a reigning Empress."

Keilin turned to watch her, despite the fact that to do so made the rain trickle off his cape and down his back. He saw how her eyes narrowed, and the expression in them changed from fear to challenge. It was not reflected in her voice however. That was cool. "Empress . . . and who, pray, is to be the Emperor?"

Deshin smiled. It was a humorless movement of the lips. "Power games again, Princess. You haven't changed despite all this time of consorting with lower orders. I wonder what use they found for you in their party? You weren't trained to cook, so I must presume you paid your way on your back. We are the Emperor of Tynia."

She ignored the innuendo, and replied with a lifted eyebrow. "I see . . . Emperor. And how does your dear Saril feel about this . . . marriage?"

The humorless smile was wiped away. "My . . . but we are well informed. I'm afraid our marriage will be merely a matter of appearances, Princess. The marriage, however, will put a stop to these ugly little rumors . . . especially when it is blessed with an heir."

"From you! I'd rather die!"

He looked disdainfully at her. "I share your sentiments exactly. No, you would have to find yourself a more . . . willing participant. Select one of these, if you like. I will make no attempt to interfere in your . . . amusements, as long as you are discreet in your use and disposal of them." He paused. "On second thought . . . perhaps you'd better leave disposal to me. You're inclined to be too flamboyant. Killings like the one you carried out on Lord Blis get talked about. What on earth was the toxin you used?"

"Maybe you'll find out. Maybe you should just leave me alone." Shael's voice was more than a little dangerous.