CHAPTER EIGHT

A New Threat

December 460

Carthak

A black hood peeked around the edge of the door, and Kel pounced, jamming the offender's solar plexus with the butt of her spear. A flashing scimitar came down, slicing through the wood handle with enviable ease before she could bring her dagger up. By the time it was free of her pouch she was flat on the ground, pinned by a heavy boot. She slashed blindly in the dark, and suddenly the foot was lifted off as Wyldon did something that made the man gurgle and fall over.

She sat up - too quickly. The bruised muscles in her abdomen complained stridently at the sudden movement and she laid back quickly.

"Any more?" she managed to gasp.

"No," came the low reply. "I think whoever was behind this attack wanted to make it as unnoticeable as possible." There was a heavy pause. "And he almost succeeded."

A hand reached down and felt blindly for hers; she accepted, and Wyldon hauled her to her feet. "Anything broken?"

"No - I think that boot tore a muscle, though," Kel said ruefully as she rubbed her stomach. He gave a sharp nod, commander through and through.

"Get Owen and Esmond to help me while you tie this one up - the other two, I fear, will have to be disposed of."

"But I used the end of the spear!" Kel protested as she made her way across the darkened room to where Owen and Esmond resided.

Wyldon was kneeling beside the assassin who had peeked around the door. When he looked up at her, she saw blood reflecting moonlight on his fingers. "Too hard, I'm afraid, Kel," he told her gently. "Go and get the others - we'll take care of these while you deal with the other fellow."

Kel nodded, but did not respond. Being a knight for a few years did not qualify her to be immune to killing, she realized as a raw sensation gnawed at her stomach. If anything, it only amplified it.

Left alone while Esmond, Owen, and Wyldon took care of the evidence of the battle, she hefted the unconscious assassin into her arms, surprised at his lightness. Taking a peek under the hood, she felt a twinge of regret; he was no more than thirteen years old. She bore him into her room and into the linen closet; propping him against the wall, she tied his arms and legs firmly and locked the closet behind him. Feeling incredible weary, she woke Neal to keep watch and fell into bed without taking off the belts that hid daggers beneath her tunic.

That was not the last attack. Twice more that week there was some kind of attempt in the early morning, though never again when Kel was on duty. Sir Yaxley and Lord Wyldon disappeared for hours at a time every day in the evening and around the lunch hour to talk with the boy, who had been moved permanently into the bigger closet in Wyldon's room. Kel knew from her father's increasingly lined face and Wyldon's hard mouth that the interrogations were not going well.

"He holds up surprisingly well for one so young," her old training master confided to her in low whispers as they mock-sparred with the glaives during one morning's warm-up session; Neal stood guard in case of eavesdroppers. "We can hardly get a word out of him; if he doesn't cooperate, we may need to use some more persuasive methods."

Kel ripped his weapon out of his hands with a deft twist and danced back to avoid the unruly blade. "He's a boy, Cavall," she snapped. Wyldon's eyes darkened, but his face remained carefully neutral.

"This is a serious business, Mindelan," he retorted. "He was in on a secret we need to know for the safety of your parents, among others, and if he refuses to redeem himself by telling us what we need to know, he will have to pay the consequences for his actions."

Kel felt like stamping her foot, but refrained. "In a couple years and in the wrong hands, Tobe could have been that boy," she hissed. "Tell me, would you have the gall to physically and mentally harm him for the sake of knowledge?"

"What else can we do?" Wyldon shot back, finally losing his temper. "I am here under orders to do everything in my power to protect the ambassadors! And what if I should fail? If there are any more attacks, we will have to leave, risking Carthak's enmity, which is not something we are equipped to handle at present! We need to get to the heart of the matter, and the only way is through this boy." He stopped and drew his hands over his face. "I have no choice, Keladry. Please see this."

"Let me talk to him," said Kel after a brief moment of silence. "Tonight, after dinner. If I can get him to divulge whatever information he may have, we let him go free-"

"Out of the question."

"We take him on as a servant then!" She struggled to reign in her temper and speak rationally. "Something. Anything. We can't just kill him!"

"I wasn't suggesting that," Wyldon soothed. "We are due for another report in a few weeks. He can go to Tortall then and serve someone - Sir Myles perhaps - as a runner and messenger boy." He raised an eyebrow at her incredulous expression. "You see? I can compromise, too."

Kel could only relinquish the victory to him as gracefully as possible.


"I am going to have a chat with the Emperor while you do your business," Baron Piers informed his daughter later that afternoon. It was a little before the evening meal, and Kel had been preparing her face when her father requested a brief audience. Now she set aside her brushes and combs and turned on the stool to face him.

"About Jerreth?" she asked, referring to the boy they had captured.

He nodded. "I need to see if Kaddar can do anything about it. I know he himself is not behind it," Piers continued, raising a hand as Kel opened her mouth to protest, "because any fool could see that he is very intent on forging an alliance with Tortall. That is the only reason I am taking this risk," he admitted.

"Do you think he will offer assistance in the way of law and justice?" she ventured.

"If not that, at least a quiet investigation and some real guards. Not that you aren't doing a fine job, my dear," he backtracked with a sudden smile. "But you all need your rest for the long days, and three hours a night on the alert is very stressing." He patted her half-done hair gently. "Are you ready for tonight?"

His daughter gave him a shrewd look. "I am not going to tell you anything, father," she informed him tartly. "I will divulge all when you return from your 'little chat'." Her father gave a full-out chuckle at this, something she had not heard from him in weeks.

"Very well, daughter. I will see you across the table at dinner then, perhaps. Wish me luck with his Royal Imperiousness!"

"Good luck father," Kel said obediently, meaning every word as he kissed her cheek and left the room.


Kel was quick to finish her meal, and she soon left the dining hall with a covered platter of food in her hands. She reached the Tortallan Suite in less than ten minutes, and entered to find a rather wretched-looking Seaver standing guard. He eyed the plate hungrily.

"Is that for me?"

"No, Seaver, sorry!" she laughed, holding it away from his questing grasp. "It's for the prisoner. I'm here to relieve you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, still eyeing the platter. "Wyldon told me not to leave you…"

Kel scowled. "Just because I don't act like a knight doesn't mean I'm not one. I can take care of myself." She jerked her head towards the door. "Go eat, and come back when you're done if you must. But I'm not to be disturbed, okay?"

"Okay, Kel. Thanks!" he threw over his shoulder as he all but bounded out the door. She realized as he left that she felt a little strange talking to him after Neal had confessed his feelings, but she hadn't noticed it until after. Relieved that sexual preference had no lasting effects on her friendships, she locked the main door soundly behind her and made a beeline for the temporary cell in which their young assassin was being held.

Jerreth knelt on the floor of Wyldon's unused parlor, tearing into a liberally spiced deer haunch with his teeth. Kel sat opposite him, playing absentmindedly with the stem of her wineglass as she looked him over. Her original placing of him was incorrect, she decided - he was more like fourteen or fifteen, though the softness of his face and slight frame belied his age. His hair was a straw-colored gold that hung pin-straight to his earlobes, but his skin was dark enough to be half-Carthaki at least. His dark hooded eyes, hidden from her in his frenzied eating, were deep-set and solemn, though retaining a spark of childhood still.

After consuming the entire haunch and half a loaf of bread with goats milk to wash it down, he suddenly became polite. He patted his mouth with slender hands and sat up straight, looking across the platter at her as though the messy silver was not there.

"Now they send a beautiful woman to seduce me into talking," he said flatly, his voice an uncanny mix of farmyard boy and city-bred noble. Kel refused to be goaded.

"My name is Keladry," she told him straight out without blinking.

"They didn't tell me they had a courtesan in their menagerie," he replied in the same manner.

She tried very hard not to slap him for impertinence. "Would you like my full title?"

"Princess Keladry of Conté I suppose."

Kel almost laughed at the blandness in his voice, but carefully kept her face Yamani-smooth. "No. I am Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small - the second Lady Knight in Tortall for over a hundred years."

Respect flashed briefly in his face before he masked it somewhat clumsily. "Women should not try to be as men."

"You try to be as a Carthaki, but you do not succeed," Kel said, ignoring his attempted criticism. "You are as much a Tortallan as I, I think."

"My mother was a luarin slave of the Copper Isles," he returned. "I know not her heritage."

"Your father was raka?"

"No. I never knew him."

Kel nodded, but said nothing.

"So you are the Lady Ilane's daughter? You seem much alike."

"Really?" Kel asked, flattered enough that she forgot her job.

He nodded, perfectly serious. "Yes. She came in sometimes, after Cavall and the Minchi left."

Kel made no move to indicate her surprise that Yaxley and Wyldon had revealed their names. "Have my companions been kind to you?"

"It is hard to be kind to a prisoner," Jerreth informed her. "Even I realize that."

"You are a very mature fourteen-year-old," Kel replied, equally informative.

"Fifteen, actually."

"Mature for a fifteen-year-old, then," she conceded. "But not so intelligent."

He bristled, right on cue. "I have a duty to my - lord, and I will uphold that duty with all the honor I possess," he fired out mechanically. "It is an honor to… die… for my king…"

"Your king? I hope you don't mean Kaddar. My father may come back to our rooms in a small snuffbox."

"No, not the Emperor, though I would serve him if…"

Kel pulled an Ilane, raising her eyebrow to her hairline. Without her having to say a word, the boy bowed his head in submission.

"If my lord would free me of my bonds and let me serve whom I would."

"Who is this tyrant that you serve?" Kel asked gently. "Do not fear - no ears can hear us from without."

Wordlessly Jerreth held out his arm. On the underside of his wrist was written AXVI; block letters in dark blue ink. "AX are the initials of my lord. The numeral six is my precedence among the boys who serve him."

"Do you have a rank?" Kel asked.

"I am called lieutenant-major; all of us are lieutenants, you see."

"Clearly this is a large enterprise," she mused, peering closer at the letters. "How far does this lord of yours reach his hand?"

In a flash, she had his arm captive as he attempted to swing his fist at her. Her eyes blazed dangerously. "Make another false move, and I will not hesitate to impair you, boy. Do I make myself clear?"

He nodded mulishly.

"Now you will tell me everything I need to know before your last chance is gone and they put you under torture! My father goes to the Emperor tonight, and if it is as you say, you will be on the rack in a trice. Believe me, death is better than what they can make for you down in the dungeons."

"The one I serve is nameless," Jerreth rattled out. "We only refer to him as 'my lord'. His underground empire is vast, making profit on offering escaped slaves from every country a job; usually that job is illegal. When my mother escaped from the Copper Isles many years ago she gave me over to work for him - she was poor, and had no other choice. It is thanks to her that I have lived this long."

"Where is your lord's base?"

"I do not know. I have never seen him. He assigns masters to us, ones who know all there is to know about our work, and they teach us. Later they become our partners, and orders come through them from him to us; it is the greatest honor to be chosen for the most dangerous assignments."

"Who does he want dead and why?"

"Our orders were to kill the Baron and his wife, and then if no one was the wiser, to try and take captive the ones who are called haMinch and Duke Gareth - they are close to the throne of Tortall. We are not given the whys of assignments, Lady Knight."

Kel sighed. "Thank you. That will be all for now. I'm sorry you do not trust me; since that is the case, I will have to lock you up again."

This prompted a questioning look, but she refused to answer. Instead she tied him securely and replaced him in his makeshift cell before locking Wyldon's doors and waiting in the common room for her companions to return from dinner.


"Kaddar knows nothing of the attempt, but he was shocked and outraged when I informed him," Piers announced to the group later that night after Kel had related the information she had received. "He has organized a quiet investigation - Owen, I will send you to his chambers tonight with a message describing Kel's discoveries. It is imperative that you deliver it unread or unseen by anyone else! Not even the guards," he cautioned. The tow-headed knight nodded gravely in understanding.

"In a couple of weeks we must send our third report," the Baron went on. "Besides Neal who is going to see Yuki, is there anyone who needs to go?"

"I must go again, I fear," Wyldon spoke up. "I received a coded message by pigeon the other day, directly from the king; I am needed at court presently to advise him."

Piers nodded. "Very well. As for one other, Daine, Owen, Seaver, and Ilane are out. Who would like to go?"

"I think Kel should go," Esmond spoke up to everyone's surprise. "She hasn't gone yet, and we've sent one woman every time - no offense, Kel," he added with an apologetic grin for her. "I just mean that it may look suspicious if we don't send another female to court when we've done so twice in a row already."

"Lucky," Merric sulked. "She gets to go over Midwinter."

Kel beamed at the prospect. "If you insist."

Piers nodded. "It's decided then. December eighth, Wyldon, Kel, and Neal will go to Tortall. The Duke and I will write you a Report to give to the king before you leave."