And by the end of autumn Haxus should be subdued and Lynan killed. Nine months and the kingdom would find again the peace it had enjoyed under the first Usharna, and have a new heir as well.
“Maybe we won’t stop at defeating Haxus’ armies,” she told her daughter. “Maybe we’ll take Haxus itself, and then all but the desert of the Southern Chetts will belong to Grenda Lear. I will make you ruler of Haxus, and that can be your training for my throne when my time has come.” The idea appealed to Areava; one fault of her mother had been to keep the reins of control too tightly in her own hands. Be-rayma’s apprenticeship had been too late and too little, she appreciated that now.
Areava let herself drift to sleep, her husband’s arm still across her, and dreamed of the future.
* * *
Dejanus sat at an ill-lit corner table of the Lost Sailor Tavern, his cloak wrapped around his huge frame. No one who saw him enter could doubt who he was, but newcomers would not notice him. He sipped slowly on a good Storian wine, which as constable of the Royal Guard he could now afford, and waited for the woman he had been told worked here most nights.
She came in close to midnight, looking hurried, and disappeared into the kitchen. A little while later she reappeared dressed in a stained white apron and carrying a wooden platter with change on it. Dejanus watched her as she moved from table to table, taking orders, smiling easily, pocketing tips. She was buxom and pretty in a voluptuous way. It figures, he thought to himself. She’s his type. When she at last realized the dark corner table was occupied, she came over.
“I’m sorry, gentle sir, I did not see you here out of the light. Can I get you something?”
“Another wine.” He handed her his empty cup and she left. When she returned, he paid for the wine and then held up a silver crown. Her face broke into a wide smile and she reached for the coin, but Dejanus pulled his hand back.
“Sit down.”
The woman’s smile disappeared. “I see,” she said unhappily, but sat down anyway.
“I need your help,” he said.
“I can imagine.”
Dejanus laughed humorlessly. “Not that kind of help, Ikanus.”
The woman stiffened. “How do you know my name?”
“We once had a friend in common.”
“I have a lot of friends.”
“This one was called Kumul Alarn.”
The woman gasped and made to stand up, but Dejanus’ hand shot out and held her down. “Who are you?”
With his free hand Dejanus showed her the coin again. “A new friend. To replace the old.”
He let her go and she did not try to leave. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I will answer it, Ikanus, but it will be the last question you ever ask of me. I am Dejanus.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and fear. Dejanus could see she was fighting the urge to run away from him, but her gaze was fixed on the silver crown.
“There is no need to be afraid. I hold nothing against you for knowing Kumul. Even I was his friend before he turned traitor.” He handed her the coin, and she slipped it down her blouse, between her ample breasts.
“Information,” he continued. “I need to know the same things Kumul did. I want you to tell me whenever something happens you think I should know about. Anything illegal, anything against the interests of the kingdom. Anything against my interests. Anything unusual or unexpected.”
Ikanus nodded. He could see she was still frightened, and that was good. It was important she understood he was someone who would hurt her as soon as reward her if she crossed him.
“You’ve taken my coin. You work for me now. I will come here now and then, and you will tell me everything you see and everything you hear that I should also see and hear. If you do well, there will be more crowns. Fail me and I will kill you.”
She nodded again and stood to leave.
“I haven’t finished,” he said quietly, and she dropped back to her seat. “We can start now. I want to know who else Kumul paid for information.”
A minute later she was gone, and Dejanus sat back, relaxed and happy with the way things had gone. Within a few days he would completely revive Kumul’s old network of down-and-outs and drunks and whores, the same network which had kept him informed of goings-on in the old quarter of the city; it had played no small part in Kumul’s success as constable. It was a network that would rival Orkid’s own; indeed, it would allow Dejanus to keep an eye on Orkid’s own activities in Kendra, his main reason for tracking down Ikanus and her ilk. He finished his wine and left, pleased with himself and the power of a single silver coin.
Orkid and Marin stood on the small terrace outside of Marin’s guest room. The glittering city gave way to the dark, placid waters of Kestrel Bay. They looked west, to their homeland, and Marin sighed deeply.
“You miss the mountains,” Orkid said.
“And my court. I know it is a petty one next to Areava’s, but I feel more comfortable there than here. Too many play for power in Kendra; back home I know my back is safe.”
“Especially now you have united our land so closely with the kingdom.”
“Yes, it was well done,” the king said without arrogance. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “By all of us. But now we must use it to advantage.”
“So soon? Shouldn’t we wait for things to settle before advancing our cause once more? It will be some time before the Twenty Houses—not to mention the rulers of Grenda Lear’s other provinces—repair their pride.”
“I know that was our plan, but circumstances have given us the opportunity to further advance our cause by rendering even greater service to Grenda Lear.”
“What circumstances?”
“Salokan’s planned move against the kingdom in spring, and Prince Lynan finding refuge in the Oceans of Grass—or with Salokan, if rumors are to be believed.”
“How do these favor us?”
“You have been in Kendra too long, and your brain is used to following the most circuitous route. Let’s deal with the problem of Lynan first. Think, Orkid. If he is in the Oceans of Grass and under the protection of the Chetts, what would unsettle the Chetts more than anything else?”
“The reintroduction of slavery.”
“Other than that. I don’t think Areava would sanction it, for one thing, and slavery has always been distasteful to our people. We are related to the Chetts, remember?”
“Then I’m at a loss—”
“I have given you the clue.” Marin smiled mysteriously at Orkid and stroked his graying beard.
The chancellor frowned in thought, but shook his head in resignation.
“Aman was created by Chetts. We still have some connection with them, especially those in the south who border our own lands. We could use whatever influence we have, together with sizable bribes, to stir them against the Northern Chetts. That should distract them at least, making Jes Prado’s task easier.”
Orkid nodded. “That must help. It would weaken any support Lynan may have gained. And what of Salokan?”
“Remember our discussion about getting Sendarus the command of Areava’s army? I can sweeten the offer. I’ll send a thousand of our best light infantry to supplement Areava’s army, and that’s on top of what she’ll conscript from Aman anyway. She’ll be pleased to receive professional soldiers.”
“It might do the trick,” Orkid mused. “I don’t think it would be hard to persuade Olio it would be best. With him on our side, it will be easier to sway Areava, and once she’s on our side, the council will follow.”
“And once Sendarus has command,” Marin said slowly, “Areava will give him the Key of the Sword.”