Chapter 11
*
After dinner Liara went to bed early. Her earlier emotional display had eexhausted her, and she soon fell into a deep sleep, one blessedly devoid of the nightmares that had plagued her steps since the death of her parents.
She was too deeply asleep to wake as the door opened silently, and if the person entering was inclined to make noise, he would have chuckled.
He glided silently towards where she lay on the bed, on her front with her arms curled beneath her. The asassin smiled. Her back and neck were exposed, and with one swift stike between the third and fourth vertebre, he could kill her instantly - and silently.
He raised the thin and deadly needle like dirk in his hand, and prepared to end the girl's life in one stroke.
*
Liara was woken from her sleep by a warning. A mental schreech, primal and wordless, filled her mind. Metal - a knife - warning me . . .
Fists clenched beneath the pillow, closing around knife hilts that sang in her mind. She moved as fast as her sleep drugged mind could allow her. She didn't need to see in this darkness, the asassin's knife shreiked silently, betraying his position. The knife was descending towards her with a blurred speed, but Liara thrust quickly, and one of Liara's knives was buried up to the hilt in his wrist.
With a thought, Liara sent fire to the candles and sent ropy tendrils of magic to condense around the shocked asassin, binding him with silvery ropes. Liara retrieved her knife, and called a vrondii to hover over him.
His pain-sick face illuminated with an eerie bluish glow.
"Who do you work for? Why kill me?" she asked urgently.
"I work for the Son of the Sun." The asassin replied in unaccented Valdenaran, but Liara went cold. The Son of the Sun was the head of the Karsite Priesthood. "We kill you, because you are demon spawn, defying the Sunlord with your blasphemies! And it's not just you." The mans eyes were wild with madness and glee. "The demons who call themselves the king and queen will die, too. And with no rulers, and no Monarch's Own, Valdemar will fall under the Cleansing fires of Vkandis!" The man burst into peal after peal of mad laughter, but Liara was already gone, running desperately to the new palace, and to the king and queen.
Liara knew that she was the Monarch's Own, but the fact had no real relevance until now. After all, Arden and Leesa were lifebonded Heralds; they hardly needed her as a confidant. And as adviser, what could one girl know? And as the last option, comfortor - well, Liara had her own problems.
But now . . . Liara tightened her grip on the unsheaved knives, and ran faster.
The corridor outside the royal suite - two guards were there, crumpled forms on the stone floor. Liara shoved through the door, and ran to the bedchamber. The suite was in darkness, but Liara did not trip. The stone building was an open book to her questing senses.
The door to the bedchamber stood ajar, and Liara was afraid she had come to late. She sent swift flecks of flame to the unlit candles, and saw a black clad figure standing by the bed.
Too late! She could never cross the intervening distance in time, and he was about to kill the Queen ...
In one desperate move, Liara launched her knife across the room. It was not a throwing knife, and it twisted end over end as it flew. Liara's heart twisted as she watched the knife fly across the room . . .
*
Arden and Leesa were awakened by the sound of a pained cry, and a crash as the asassin's knife slipped from suddenly numb fingers to hit the stone floor. The man followed it, trying desperately to pull out the silver knife that had struck deep into his heart.
Leesa gave a half gasp, half scream of shocked fear, and Arden put an arm around her as he sat up in bed. He looked around for the knife's weilder, and saw a white faced girl standing in the door.
He remembered her face with a start; this was the Chosen of Deilan - the Monarch's Own.
*
The rest of the night passed in a blur. First their had to be an explanation, and then the body was removed, and the still-bound asassin was taken from Liara's room and questioned.
Liara's mind was reeling. She had not previously understood what an important position Monarch's Own was - she had thought it an empty title. But now she was told that, by law, if the ruler of Valdemar was killed without a designated heir, it was the Monarch's Own who ruled until a new ruler was decided upon. No wonder the Karsites wanted her out of the way as well as the monarchs - without any of them, Valdemar would be leaderless, and open to invasion.
Liara shuddered at the idea of the Heralds being 'cleansed' on the sacrificial fires of Vkandis.
False dawn shone in the East before the night was over, and Liara stumbled with exhaustion as she stumbled back to her room.
Her last drowsy thought was to note that the bloodstains had been cleaned from the bed linen before she fell asleep.
*
Liara woke up at noon, and looked blearily around the room. There was a note stuck on the door.
It tersely asked Liara to report to Dean Gareth's office as soon as she awoke. Liara groaned aloud. More explanations.
She dressed quickly in her student Greys, and did not neglect to buckle on her knife belt. If Karse could get asassins into the middle of Haven, they could get asassins anywhere. Then she walked down the corridors to the Dean's office.
He seemed uncomfortable, and that worried Liara more than a little. She was tense as she sat down, and she maintained her wariness until he spoke.
"I know you come from Karse," the Dean said in an anxious tone.
Liara almost laughed aloud, remembering with a guilty twinge the scene she had made when he had confronted her with that. Was this the only reason for his anxiety? It seemed silly - but of course, he couldn't know that it was different now.
Gareth watched her as she gave an affirmative. There was something different about her - she was somehow more alive, more open than she had been. Was this a good sign? Gareth didn't know.
:Seren,: he asked his Companion. :Is there something different about her, now?:
:Deilan says there is.: Seren replied. :He says that the memories that haunted her have been healed. She may not want to talk about her experiences, but she accepts them, now.:
Gareth breathed a silent sigh of releif. Perhaps she'd be easier to talk to, now.
"From the information we got from the asassin," he said, sitting down opposite Liara, "We think the Karsites are planning an invasion, even though our rulers, and our Monarch's Own," He nodded to her. "Are alive and well." Now he paused, as if ordering his thoughts. "We need to discover their plans."
"Have you any spies in Karse?" Liara asked, dreading the answer.
"No." The Dean replied. He wouldn't look at her. "They always get discovered, because they don't know the customs."
Ah. Liara stayed silent, but her thoughts were winding to the inevitable conclusion.
"We wondered if you would go to Karse, and do some reconasance."
She had expected it, but still she flinched away from the idea. To go back to Karse . . . the idea was terrifying. But it was duty. She remembered, she had only come with Deilan because of duty. It was her duty to say yes.
And even without duty, she thought of Daven, with his comfort, and Kirstie, her first friend, and even Herreld, with his whiplash arrogance. They might die if she didn't do this.
The answer would always be yes.
*
After dinner Liara went to bed early. Her earlier emotional display had eexhausted her, and she soon fell into a deep sleep, one blessedly devoid of the nightmares that had plagued her steps since the death of her parents.
She was too deeply asleep to wake as the door opened silently, and if the person entering was inclined to make noise, he would have chuckled.
He glided silently towards where she lay on the bed, on her front with her arms curled beneath her. The asassin smiled. Her back and neck were exposed, and with one swift stike between the third and fourth vertebre, he could kill her instantly - and silently.
He raised the thin and deadly needle like dirk in his hand, and prepared to end the girl's life in one stroke.
*
Liara was woken from her sleep by a warning. A mental schreech, primal and wordless, filled her mind. Metal - a knife - warning me . . .
Fists clenched beneath the pillow, closing around knife hilts that sang in her mind. She moved as fast as her sleep drugged mind could allow her. She didn't need to see in this darkness, the asassin's knife shreiked silently, betraying his position. The knife was descending towards her with a blurred speed, but Liara thrust quickly, and one of Liara's knives was buried up to the hilt in his wrist.
With a thought, Liara sent fire to the candles and sent ropy tendrils of magic to condense around the shocked asassin, binding him with silvery ropes. Liara retrieved her knife, and called a vrondii to hover over him.
His pain-sick face illuminated with an eerie bluish glow.
"Who do you work for? Why kill me?" she asked urgently.
"I work for the Son of the Sun." The asassin replied in unaccented Valdenaran, but Liara went cold. The Son of the Sun was the head of the Karsite Priesthood. "We kill you, because you are demon spawn, defying the Sunlord with your blasphemies! And it's not just you." The mans eyes were wild with madness and glee. "The demons who call themselves the king and queen will die, too. And with no rulers, and no Monarch's Own, Valdemar will fall under the Cleansing fires of Vkandis!" The man burst into peal after peal of mad laughter, but Liara was already gone, running desperately to the new palace, and to the king and queen.
Liara knew that she was the Monarch's Own, but the fact had no real relevance until now. After all, Arden and Leesa were lifebonded Heralds; they hardly needed her as a confidant. And as adviser, what could one girl know? And as the last option, comfortor - well, Liara had her own problems.
But now . . . Liara tightened her grip on the unsheaved knives, and ran faster.
The corridor outside the royal suite - two guards were there, crumpled forms on the stone floor. Liara shoved through the door, and ran to the bedchamber. The suite was in darkness, but Liara did not trip. The stone building was an open book to her questing senses.
The door to the bedchamber stood ajar, and Liara was afraid she had come to late. She sent swift flecks of flame to the unlit candles, and saw a black clad figure standing by the bed.
Too late! She could never cross the intervening distance in time, and he was about to kill the Queen ...
In one desperate move, Liara launched her knife across the room. It was not a throwing knife, and it twisted end over end as it flew. Liara's heart twisted as she watched the knife fly across the room . . .
*
Arden and Leesa were awakened by the sound of a pained cry, and a crash as the asassin's knife slipped from suddenly numb fingers to hit the stone floor. The man followed it, trying desperately to pull out the silver knife that had struck deep into his heart.
Leesa gave a half gasp, half scream of shocked fear, and Arden put an arm around her as he sat up in bed. He looked around for the knife's weilder, and saw a white faced girl standing in the door.
He remembered her face with a start; this was the Chosen of Deilan - the Monarch's Own.
*
The rest of the night passed in a blur. First their had to be an explanation, and then the body was removed, and the still-bound asassin was taken from Liara's room and questioned.
Liara's mind was reeling. She had not previously understood what an important position Monarch's Own was - she had thought it an empty title. But now she was told that, by law, if the ruler of Valdemar was killed without a designated heir, it was the Monarch's Own who ruled until a new ruler was decided upon. No wonder the Karsites wanted her out of the way as well as the monarchs - without any of them, Valdemar would be leaderless, and open to invasion.
Liara shuddered at the idea of the Heralds being 'cleansed' on the sacrificial fires of Vkandis.
False dawn shone in the East before the night was over, and Liara stumbled with exhaustion as she stumbled back to her room.
Her last drowsy thought was to note that the bloodstains had been cleaned from the bed linen before she fell asleep.
*
Liara woke up at noon, and looked blearily around the room. There was a note stuck on the door.
It tersely asked Liara to report to Dean Gareth's office as soon as she awoke. Liara groaned aloud. More explanations.
She dressed quickly in her student Greys, and did not neglect to buckle on her knife belt. If Karse could get asassins into the middle of Haven, they could get asassins anywhere. Then she walked down the corridors to the Dean's office.
He seemed uncomfortable, and that worried Liara more than a little. She was tense as she sat down, and she maintained her wariness until he spoke.
"I know you come from Karse," the Dean said in an anxious tone.
Liara almost laughed aloud, remembering with a guilty twinge the scene she had made when he had confronted her with that. Was this the only reason for his anxiety? It seemed silly - but of course, he couldn't know that it was different now.
Gareth watched her as she gave an affirmative. There was something different about her - she was somehow more alive, more open than she had been. Was this a good sign? Gareth didn't know.
:Seren,: he asked his Companion. :Is there something different about her, now?:
:Deilan says there is.: Seren replied. :He says that the memories that haunted her have been healed. She may not want to talk about her experiences, but she accepts them, now.:
Gareth breathed a silent sigh of releif. Perhaps she'd be easier to talk to, now.
"From the information we got from the asassin," he said, sitting down opposite Liara, "We think the Karsites are planning an invasion, even though our rulers, and our Monarch's Own," He nodded to her. "Are alive and well." Now he paused, as if ordering his thoughts. "We need to discover their plans."
"Have you any spies in Karse?" Liara asked, dreading the answer.
"No." The Dean replied. He wouldn't look at her. "They always get discovered, because they don't know the customs."
Ah. Liara stayed silent, but her thoughts were winding to the inevitable conclusion.
"We wondered if you would go to Karse, and do some reconasance."
She had expected it, but still she flinched away from the idea. To go back to Karse . . . the idea was terrifying. But it was duty. She remembered, she had only come with Deilan because of duty. It was her duty to say yes.
And even without duty, she thought of Daven, with his comfort, and Kirstie, her first friend, and even Herreld, with his whiplash arrogance. They might die if she didn't do this.
The answer would always be yes.