See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

Great credit goes to LadyDarkStar for her continual help and encouragement with this story, and this chapter in particular.

Chapter 8

"What do you mean, the Rider wasn't there?" The man's voice was soft and cold, a menacing whisper in the dark hallways. In these interior rooms, containing no windows and at times, few torches, he felt safe enough speaking with his… employees. The likelihood of being noticed, even by Weapons, was slim, though he still kept his voice quiet and his eyes sharp.

"I mean, Sir, that she wasn't there. We got rid of everyone else, jus' like you wanted… but there wasn't no Greenie at the Festival. She never showed. Her father's dead 'nough; we even brung his ring back for you. His damn bodyguard was a dangerous son, that one… Swordmaster. Good thing skill with a blade ain't no protection against arrows, and the Pointies got them aplenty. Glad I didn't 'ave to face off with 'im, I was."

"Strange, I wasn't aware the Clan counted any Swordmasters in their number, even among the bodyguards."

"That's the weird thing, it is," the… man… before him answered. "I got in touch with some of me sources, see, after everything were taken care of… and they says as how this man… Marcus… he 'as the clan schoolteacher. Weren't no bodyguard. I'd say as he fought too damn well to be any teacher, Ya sure this Greenie's who ya think she is?"

"She's a problem, is what she is, Minks. An obstacle. She defeated the Eletian and the Sacor City sect of my compatriots… most of them, anyway. She has an unbelievably annoying habit of not dying when I want her to, and an even more annoying record of stumbling across our plans... thus, why I want her dead."

"Beggin' pardon, Sir, by why not just ambush her on a message errand, nice 'n' quick-like?"

"Minks, you know nothing. When she's on an errand, her guard is up. As much as I loathe the woman, I must admit that she has more than passing skill with a blade. I doubt any in your little band of thugs would be man enough to manage the job, and our Eletian counterparts seem… unwilling to see to her end on their own. Perhaps some have started to hear the rumors of who she is." We cannot afford for them to discover what Shawdell realized the minute he touched her.

He could see the little man before him squint in the darkness. "And who might that be, Sir?"

"Now, Minks," he said, the vengeful chill evident in his voice. "That would be telling, wouldn't it? And her Clan was killed so that she would never find out, so that no one would find out. It's obvious she doesn't know, yet… and if everyone who does know is dead, who is left to tell her? If she can be made to join the rest of her Clan, then all will be as it should. But, Minks… do make sure that no one survived who was actually there, will you?"

He could see the man nod, and as Minks turned to leave, one final thought occurred to him. "Oh, Minks, where's the sword?"

"Sword, Sir?" The man could see the look of confusion on the murderer's face, clear enough despite the lack of light. "What sword? Weren't nothing special about the swords they was usin' to defend themselves… 'cept the schoolteacher's, with the Swordmaster's band."

"You fool." The scorn in his voice would have been clear to an idiot, but he wasn't certain Minks was that intelligent. "You could not have failed to notice this sword. It's reputed to be of such beauty that legends say it must have been a gift from a King… or perhaps the gods themselves. Our Eletian friend implied quite heavily that no Sacoridian smith could have made it, and that would leave only the Eletians, as far as he was concerned. I would suggest you keep your beady little eyes on the lookout for any blades that look to have been made by the Elt. It would be to your good fortune to get any such blades to me as quickly as you can."

He paused a moment, and spoke again just before Minks stepped into the corridor. "Oh, Minks," he said, "make no mistake. If you find this sword, and decide in your own infinite wisdom to keep it for yourself or find someone offering a higher price for it… be aware that you won't have long to regret it. After all, if I can arrange the slaughter of an entire clan, what's one insignificant little man?"

Minks did not reply, choosing instead to scurry away while he still had the chance.

The King's Study

In the hour since Lord Coutre had left the room, Zachary had been unable to rid himself of a feeling of foreboding that came of wondering what the Eastern Lord was plotting. Karigan, who had at one point contented herself pacing the length of his study, was now seated on the settee again, running a hand through her sleeping cousin's hair. The King, on the other hand, had spent a good portion of that hour studying his Rider, whose eyes were serious and whose concerns rested heavily on her shoulders. He knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth.

"I have to go. They are my Clan, and no one has more right to see to them than I."

"I'm not debating that, Karigan… but I am not comfortable sending you there with just the scouting party. As the… last adult of your Clan, you would be far too tempting a target to the attackers if any of them are still in the area."

Her voice was quiet when she answered, though he couldn't tell if that was in deference to the sleeping child… or because of the subject of the conversation. "I would be a tempting target to them regardless, Sire, if things are as I suspect. The entire time I've served in the Green, I've not been able to get home even once for our Founding Day Festival. In fact, I've not been home at all, save for a few opportunities to stop there while on message errands. This year, the Captain told me I could go, and I wrote to my father to inform him of it. After Lady Estora's kidnapping, the Captain canceled all leaves, so that we would be available should the need arise for us. I wrote to my father again, but the letter wouldn't have reached him before the Festival. I was supposed to be there… and out of all the Founding Days since I entered service, all the days they could have attacked and gotten the vast majority of the Clan… why would they wait for this one? Why would they wait… unless they wanted me? I've spent every moment from the time Aidan and Lise arrive last night, wondering why it was they – whoever they are – didn't simply attack me on a message errand. Why go after my entire Clan?"

He reached for her, fingers brushing her cheek. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as hers. "You've reached some conclusion, haven't you?" In his mind, he thought he knew what that conclusion was.

"Someone knows my heritage," she responded, still quiet, still running her fingers through Noah's hair. "Someone knows, and wished to eliminate whatever threat they see in me… and silence whoever might spread the word. What I don't know is why they would see me as a threat."

"Your mother wouldn't have mentioned anything to you… nothing you remember now?"

"Sire, my mother told me a great deal, most of which I can recall… but even the information that was locked behind that door had to be tempered and filtered in terms of what a four-year-old could understand. In other words, despite how much she did tell me… there was quite a bit, I suspect, that she did not. I don't know who my enemies are. In these times, though, being under constant threat is… nothing new."

He sat beside her on the settee and held her close; she did not resist. In this moment, his Blade whispered, she needs the comfort just as much as thee, Firebrand. Greatly has her heart been taxed by these recent tragedies. And still she stands. Still she stands.

Much as he wanted to hold her to him and keep her there… he knew that she had to see to her Clan. Despite the danger, it would be cruel of him to keep her here, but he had the same need to see her safe that she had to go. Who could he send?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he stood. Once more, his hand brushed Karigan's cheek, moving then to touch Noah's face… still as bruised and scratched as it had been the day before, but far cleaner. He would not begrudge this little one any moment of peaceful sleep that was granted to him. Letting his touch linger only for a moment, he moved to the door, only hoping that the visitor was not a returning Lord Coutre.

Estora was not surprised that the King opened his own door, not after what her father had told her. That lack of surprise didn't make it any easier for her to say what she needed to say. "Sire," she said, knowing that always to be a good start, "may we talk?"

He ushered her in, his eyes seeming to notice everything of consequence. His words, as always, were courteous. "Are you alright, Lady Estora? You look troubled."

"That, Highness, is… something of an understatement, considering I've just come from a long discussion with my father, one that I had to initiate and sustain, as he was most uncooperative." From the corner of her eye, she could see Karigan sitting on the settee, her attention clearly caught by Estora's statement.

"Lady?" she said.

Estora smiled slightly, remembering the look on her father's face, and caught Karigan's eye. "I think he got the point when I reminded him that I bear no resemblance to a horse, much less a particularly favored brood mare for whom he sought the perfect match. When he still objected to speaking with me, I reminded him that he had put me in a position to be Queen… and thus, quite able to enforce my will. Eventually, he told me what happened in this room, I essentially called him a coward… and depending on how things go, I may be disowned before all is said and done. There are more important things that concern me at the moment."

Crossing the study, she took a seat beside Karigan, looking over the Rider and the child next to her with a practiced eye. "He said the little one was a clansman?"

The eyes Estora looked into were grieving, but – for the moment – controlled. Karigan shook her head slightly. "He is that, Lady Estora. However, Noah is also my cousin. The last of my blood within the Clan, though I believe I have several relatives somewhere on Black Island. My father never spoke of them."

Estora could not find the words to express her sympathies to Karigan… or her fear that she may have done something less than wise in confronting her father. Still, she could not bring herself to regret any of it. She had said what needed to be said, all the feelings that had been building up in her for years, and she was prepared to face the full consequences of it later... whatever they may be.

"Father told me of the scouting party, and I've no doubt that you plan to join them," Estora said to Karigan, casting a look at the King as she continued. "I would think it fitting if the Crown sent a representative, wouldn't you?"

She could see the look of shock on the King's face, rare as it was that he would show emotion so openly. "Lady Estora, you cannot be suggesting…"

"I am, Sire. I am not blind; I've known how the two of you felt for some time. I've been there, Highness. I know that Karigan will go, and that you want to protect her. However, you cannot send the Weapons you would prefer; it would be too obvious and raise too many questions. If I go, you've a reason to send them… though, I think this time, I might choose to leave the side-saddle here."

The look on Karigan's face was one of confusion. "Estora… why are you doing this? It is not needed… appreciated, yes, but not needed. There's no reason to endanger yourself; I would not be unaccompanied. The scouting party would consist of proven warriors… and I would suspect more guards would remain out of sight, but never out of range."

"Karigan?" The King had moved ever closer, one hand resting – unconsciously, Estora thought – on the sleeping child, almost as though that child was his own.

"Somial and his tiendan guarded the children to Lord L'Petrie's estates, all the while paying some special attention to Noah. What are the odds, I wonder, that those same tiendan remained with the last three all the way here?"

"If they have, why haven't they made themselves known?"

Karigan looked to be about to speak, but then she paused, an odd look on her face. A slight smile graced her lips, as she set a hand to the hilt of the Blade at her side… the same Blade, Estora knew, that her father had described in great detail, having gotten a slightly closer look at it than he'd intended.

"They have, Sire, just now… and Somial could never be a threat to me. After all, no Wielder may harm another." That sentence spoke of a great deal that Estora had missed, but she was certain she could coax it out of Karigan eventually.

"They wait at the city gates for an invitation, Sire. They will not enter the city without your leave. Somial bears the equivalent of Mara's Blade, and my own let me know he was there, with his permission. He says that his tiendan will remain out of sight of the scouting party if it would make them more comfortable, but that he has no intention of leaving me unguarded against any magical attacks. He plans to protect me from his own people, Zachary."

Estora had the feeling they'd forgotten she was in the room, and she did not mind in the slightest. She could learn more from those who didn't realize she was listening.

"Invite them in, Karigan. I wish to see this group who would swear to your safety."