“No. I want them in here.” He removed the other boot.
Kaede’s expression went from joyous to disappointed, but she turned to follow his orders.
“But not now,” he reached out and caught her before she could take a step, caught the front of her tunic and used his grip to pull her close. With one arm around her, he tugged on the material again, and one of the carved bone buttons popped off.
He tugged again, harder, and thread snapped as two more buttons flew. As she reached for the front of the tunic to unbutton it rather than ruin it, he yanked more buttons off. “Never mind. You’ll need a new uniform for our return to Takar anyway.”
They rode into Takar at the head of the company, flags held high, symbolizing their victory.
The warriors’ uniforms had been altered as much as possible, stripes and decorations torn off. They all wore, as did Jyrbian, the crescent symbol of Sar-gonnas, God of Destruction and Vengeance, fashioned from the bones of their enemy. They were no longer of the Dalle Clan. They were Jyrbian’s.
The pageantry of the warriors drew a crowd of onlookers as they rode through the streets, stirring cheers.
Kaede was breathtaking in her red-and-white silks, her long, silver hair pulled back and braided warrior style.
Khallayne and Jelindra rode behind them, flanked by guards. Jelindra was swallowed up in her warrior tunic. Khallayne wore hers carelessly, showing her disdain.
Jyrbian proudly wore the same clothes he was wearing when he had left Takar, now bloodstained and well used. He’d cut his long hair to just above shoulder length and gathered it at the nape of his neck. His sword lay across his back.
The crowd responded to him, to the power they felt in him. They cheered and ran alongside the troops to keep him in sight.
Riding beside him, Kaede felt like laughing, and did so as the cobbled streets grew crowded and boisterous.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jyrbian faced tbe Ruling Council as dirty and bloody as the last time he’d stood before one of them. But this time, they were the ones who needed something, and he was the one in a position to bestow favors.
Kaede stood to his right. Jelindra was behind her, and Khallayne stood farthest away, back against the door.
The five members of the Ruling Council seemed smaller somehow, aged by the weeks that had gone by. Jyrbian stood, tall and proud, and did not perform the requisite bow. “I’ve come to offer my services as leader of all the troops of Takar.”
They glanced at each other, but before Anel, the leader, could respond, Jyrbian continued. “My proposal is this. I will consolidate the guards of the clans, and I will turn them into one army. I will reclaim the mountains from the humans. My army will make all the roads safe, as well as the passes and estates. My army will put the slaves back to work, where they belong.”
He took a step closer to the platform on which the five council members knelt and lowered his voice. “And when I have done that, my army will track down the heretic Igraine and his treasonous followers and bring them all back to stand trial for their crimes.”
He heard Khallayne’s soft gasp, but paid it no attention.
Without glancing at the others, Anel smiled and nodded to Jyrbian. “This plan you propose is indeed ambitious, Lord. We shall take it under serious advisement, of course. I’m sure you realize we’d like to discuss it first and hear the report of our agent.” Anel glanced at Kaede. “We-”
“Of course, I understand, Lady,” he interrupted smoothly. “But you must also understand, of course, that I will do these things with or without your approval.”
The gasps this time were from the council, and Teragrym and Enna both half rose, ready to challenge him.
Jyrbian waved them back down. “With you or without you. It is your choice.”
He left the audience chamber as abruptly as he had come, Kaede, Jelindra and Khallayne trailing in his wake. He spoke to the first Ogre he encountered in the hall.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The Ogre, a male about Jyrbian’s age, but much smaller and paler, had obviously heard of their arrival. “I’m Ginde, Lord Jyrbian, general aide to the council,” he said nervously.,
“Well, now, you’re my aide,” Jyrbian said brusquely.
The Ogre gulped, looking first at the door to the chamber, then at Kaede, then back at Jyrbian. “Yes, Sire.”
“I’ll be wanting new quarters. The larger ones on the southern side of the building will do nicely.”
Jyrbian started off down the hall, the aide dancing alongside him, trying to catch his attention.
“But, Lord, those are occupied by-”
“I don’t care. Have them unoccupied. Now. And I’ll want my troops quartered in the section the king’s troops used to occupy,” Jyrbian said, banging open the door to the dining hall.
The room was half filled, busy for midafternoon, and the conversations died away as everyone looked at Jyrbian.
“I’ll be wanting all new things,” he said over his shoulder. “I left nothing behind of any importance. You can put Khallayne in my old apartment. And give Jelindra Lyrralt’s old room for the time being.”
Kaede nodded, leaving him at the door of the dining hall, motioning for the two of them to follow her. Jelindra obeyed with alacrity, Khallayne sullenly.
There were guards everywhere, at corners and doors where there had never been guards in the castle for as long as Khallayne could remember. And very few slaves, most of whom were wall-eyed and cowed.
They passed a small woman slave carrying a tray, and she recoiled against the wall as if she expected to be struck as Kaede brushed by her.
Had the slaves always been so afraid of them? Had they always walked with bowed heads and cringed at the slightest sound of a raised voice? Khallayne glanced back at the woman, but kept walking.
“In here.” Kaede held open the door to Lyrralt’s old apartment and waited for Jelindra. As soon as the girl was inside, Kaede pulled the door closed and locked it, tucking the key inside her jacket.
Khallayne heard Jelindra scream.
“Kaede-!” She wheeled toward Jelindra’s door, then toward the rooms that would be hers-Jyr-bian’s old apartment. The door was already closing behind Kaede. Khallayne surged forward, realizing that, now that Jelindra was safely locked away, Kaede had released the spell that had bound the child’s memory.
Khallayne banged the door open, slamming it into the wall.
Kaede looked up from a chest set against the far wall, her eyes narrowed, dangerous, as she waited for Khallayne to speak.
“Looking for something?”
Kaede stood and allowed the lid of the chest to bang shut. “Evidence.”
“Of what?” Khallayne pulled her jacket close against the chill in the room. It smelled damp and musty, of being closed up for weeks. Without moving a muscle, she lit the half-burned logs in the fireplace.
Kaede didn’t blink. “Of the Song of History.”
“The what?” Khallayne covered her quick intake of breath by turning toward the crackling fire and holding out her hands. Every ounce of her willpower was required to not look at the window, at the sill, to see if Jyrbian’s collection of crystals still stood there.
“The Song of the History of the Ogre.”
“I don’t understand,” Khallayne lied, pretending to examine the figurines on the mantel. Surreptitiously, she glanced at Kaede in the mirror that hung above the fireplace.
Kaede had the door to the wardrobe open and was fingering Jyrbian’s clothes. “Bakrell and I are the last of the Clan of the Keeper.”