Nor Iron Bars a Cage
Book Two of The Ascendancy Trilogy;
Part of the Legends of Byntar
by Caprice Hokstad
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 Caprice Hokstad
Cover art © 2007 Audrey Rawlings Arena and ©2010 Kat Heckenbach
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Visit the series homepage at: http://www.Latoph.com
~Acknowledgements~
Many thanks to my critique partners, Stephanie Thoma and Sara McEnhill. Thanks also to my advance readers for providing reviews.
Stone walls do not a prison make
Nor iron bars a cage
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.
From ‘To Althea from Prison’
Richard Lovelace, 1642
The Continent of Raeru on the world of Byntar
Translation Note
Because many Earth flora and fauna are mentioned in this text, one may be tempted to assume that Byntar is too coincidentally Earthlike. I have simply used English names when the species were at all similar and their differences would not affect the story. Therefore, a Byntarian chicken would not necessarily look, act, or taste exactly like a Terran chicken; the word “chicken” was merely used for simplicity’s sake to communicate a non-flying, domesticated fowl kept for eggs and meat. I have also used standard English terms for royalty (king, duke, prince, etc.) even though Byntarian traditions surrounding these ranks conflict somewhat with those of Earth.
Where a word has no reasonable English equivalent, I have supplied the Byntarian word. Please be advised that interplanetary translation is, at best, an inexact science, and forgive my clumsiness in its practice.
~C.H.
Cultural Note
Byntar is a world of dualities. Two suns, Calla and Cana, rule the days. Guarding the nights are moons Paeva and Pouren. Sentient life continues the duality decreed by suns and moons above.
Elva derives from the ancient word for “heavens”, since Elva coloring echoes the firmament. Elva hair is black as night, white as stars, or any shade of gray clouds. Gray hair is just as likely on infants as adults, as it has nothing to do with age. Their eyes reflect the skies in all its seasons: black as night, gray as the storms, or blue as a summer’s day. Elva are tall and even Elva ears point heavenward. Strong physiques and ambitious constitutions mark the Elva.
Itzi means “earth”. Itzi hair is blond, brown, or red, echoing autumn leaves. Itzi eyes are usually brown as soil or green like grassy fields. Blue eyes occur, albeit rarely, in Itzi. Itzi blue is attributed to the sea. Itzi statures are closer to the ground and Itzi ears are round like rolling hills. Being substantially smaller and less intelligent, the docile Itzi are content to keep to themselves and allow the Elva to dominate nearly every aspect of life.
Choicest of the Twelve Kingdoms is Latoph, lying on the land’s western coast. Continuity of the Rebono Dynasty for the last thousand years has left a legacy of laws and civilization in Latoph which is unparalleled on Byntar.
Chapter 1
Slices of suns’ light pierced the morning fog. Captain Zinto paced the dock; his white cotton shirt and loose knee-pants billowed in the salty breeze. Deck-seasoned feet made too little sound for his mood, so he stomped to remedy the annoying silence. A tiny crab scurried across the weathered timbers. With a swift kick, Zinto launched the unfortunate creature to sea. The captain grumbled and swore under his breath, flailing his arms as he paced.
The sound of booted footsteps halted Zinto’s silent argument with the invisible. An eight-foot-tall Elva in black silk shirt and kidskin breeches topped by a black velvet manteau emerged from the haze. Zinto’s bushy gray brows furrowed in irritation as he attempted to school his features into proper respect for royalty. A dutiful dip of his head was all he dared offer in his present state.
The young noble smiled and offered a slender hand. “Good morning, Captain Zinto.”
Zinto huffed, turned away, and resumed his pacing. “Forgive me for nay agreeing, your highness.”
“Not at all,” the younger replied. “Forgive me for assuming anyone could be as happy as I on this wonderful morning. Is there anything I might help with?”
“Nay a thing, unless ye can command the weather or find some sap to buy a cargo-hold o’ silk in the next hour.”
The nobleman arched a brow and studied Zinto. “Silk, eh? Why would you want to sell it so fast? Is there something wrong with The Spirit of Hamrid?” He looked up at the ship docked close by. Zinto’s proud vessel sat low in the water, all her masts and sails intact, her hull sound.
Zinto snorted softly, then quickly remembered with whom he spoke. “What’s wrong, M’lord Duke, is where your brother ordered her to sail.” The captain couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “He wants a ride to Rilad.”
The duke shook his head. He maneuvered to the skipper’s side and placed a well-manicured hand on his shoulder. “If I can’t convince King Arx to find other passage, I’ll buy the silk myself.”
Zinto whirled around, blue eyes wide. His face, wrinkled by time and tanned by twin suns, peered at the duke in disbelief. His jaw dropped, revealing several missing teeth. “Y—Ye would? What’d ye do with all that silk?”
“If you must take the king north, then you’ll have to lay anchor in Rilad for the storm season, correct?”
Zinto nodded.
“And the silk would be ruined before you could reach the garment maker’s guild in Dronak, right?”
Zinto nodded again. He was thankful Duke Vahn knew the sea and trade routes, so he didn’t have to explain the predicament King Arx had put him into. He couldn’t store delicate silk in a musty hold for a whole winter, especially in Rilad, where rains would be heavy.
“If I hear of a ship heading south in the next few days, I’ll hire it, of course.”
“Nay much chance o’ that. Ev’r’one headed south has already gone, and anyone headed in is prob’ly plannin’ to winter here.”
“I can store the silk in an empty tavern I recently acquired.”
Zinto nodded again and then arched a suspicious brow. The king hadn’t cared for his problems. Why should this tenderfoot duke care? Nothing was ever free. “Ye can’t have anything to gain by storing a load o’ silk. What d’ye expect in return?”
The young noble chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m in a generous mood. You may buy it back next spring at the same price. Perhaps I’ll need a favor someday—”
Zinto interrupted, “Don’t be using me or m’ship as pawns in your feud.”
The duke’s voice lowered and dark brows knit over fiery black eyes. “If that’s what you think, then consider the offer void. Arx is the one who presumes unqualified allegiance by virtue of entering this world a mere seven minutes before I did. If I can’t earn your genuine trust, then I don’t want it.”
Zinto bowed his head. “I’m sorry, your highness. I… I didnay mean it that way. I guess I just expect ye to hold this over m’head.”
“I give you my word as a knight that I won’t. If I could buy your loyalty with gold or silk, it wouldn’t be very valuable, now would it?” He extended his hand again. This time the captain took it and the two grasped each other’s wrists.
“Thank you, your highness. I accept.”
“Good. Now let’s see if I can’t talk my brother out of this nonsense so those Dronakian tailors can get their silk on time. He’s on board already?”
“Aye, he’s aboard. Had to work pretty hard at convincin’ him I couldnay leave wi’out me first mate. Salty’s in town buying rations. If I tell him we’re sailing north with this silk after he haggled the deal o’ the decade to buy it… well, I might lose him.”
“That won’t happen. Either you sail south with your cargo or it stays safe in Ny. And in that case, since you’ll be detained up north, I’ll insist that Arx put your whole crew up at the Royal Palace all winter.”
Zinto laughed and slapped his thigh. “Well, that oughtta do it! Twelve sailors loiterin’ around the landlubber’s fancy palace is enough to spook any man into finding another way home.”
The duke laughed as well. “Permission to board, Captain?”
Zinto smiled. The duke didn’t have to ask; royalty were excused from maritime customs. King Arx hadn’t asked permission to board The Spirit of Hamrid any more than he asked where she was headed when he commandeered her for his trip. “Board her with me favor. Would you be needing m’cabin boy to show you about?”
The duke paused. A sly smile wended over his lips. “Well, I don’t need a tour escort, but I might need some help with my plan. I think I can find the lad. You go ahead and see to your first mate.”
“Aye.” Zinto’s right hand lifted to touch his brow. The duke stood erect and returned the salute. Captain Zinto blinked, surprised. Even odder, the duke stood fast and waited for Zinto to break the salute first. Zinto’s cheeks flushed. He snapped his hand to his side, whirled around, and jogged off toward town.
_______
Duke Vahn waited until Zinto yielded, enjoying the astonishment on the captain’s whiskered face. Mother was right. Peasants appreciated small tokens of respect and usually deserved them more than the nobles. Zinto was a good man, not the sort who would argue with the king, even when compliance meant great personal loss. Vahn had to find some way around his brother’s mistrust. Arx never listened to him.
It was rather disheartening that Arx was leaving Ny so quickly. Vahn knew he hadn’t been a very good host, but surely Arx had understood that he wanted to spend time with the maiden who’d saved both their lives. No one thought she would live. Her miraculous recovery was what sent Vahn looking for his brother in the first place.
A sailor met him at the top of the gangplank and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty.”
Vahn nearly corrected him, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to send a request for audience that would likely be refused. For once, he was glad for the resemblance. Vahn puffed out his chest and tried to sound as pompous as Arx. “As you were, sailor. I need the cabin boy and be quick about it.”
“Right away, your majesty.” The sailor darted below deck.
Vahn removed the manteau from about his shoulders. A sailor or two might not recognize him, but surely Arx’s guards would if Vahn wore his signature black attire. He draped the velvet over his arm and mentally rehearsed his strategy while he waited.
The cabin boy scrambled up the ladder from below deck, looking nervous and winded. He knelt and bowed his head. A meek voice barely escaped. “You called for me, your majesty?”
Vahn smiled and motioned him up with a wave. Now, how to persuade the lad to be his accomplice without implicating him in the crime. He paused, studying the youth. Sandy blond hair lay unkempt about his head. That alone would have given him away as Itzi, but the round ears confirmed it. Curiously, though the boy looked at least twelve, he wore no slave bands. Very unusual for a free Itzi to be given such a position—but of all Elva, Vahn was least likely to object. He thought of the Itzi slave waiting at home for him and couldn’t help but smile.
“I need you to fetch one of the captain’s shirts, lad, and ask no questions. I assure you Zinto already gave his approval.” Vahn winced at his own words. Arx wouldn’t have given any explanation. Nor would his brother have asked the captain to begin with. Thankfully, the lad’s gaze was glued too well to the deck to have seen the wince.
“Yes, your majesty, right away.” The boy stumbled over his own feet and rushed back below deck.
Vahn stifled a grin and found a repository on the portside rail for his manteau. He removed his jerkin and set it atop the manteau, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails out from his breeches. He waited, staring down a few sailors who cocked brows as they passed him. None were so unwise as to question him, no matter who they thought he was. They all averted their eyes the moment Vahn’s frown made clear their glances were unwelcome.
The Itzi lad returned, panting as he knelt and offered the shirt. Vahn slipped his hand into his jerkin pocket and removed a silver coin. He accepted the white cotton shirt, deftly exchanging it with the coin. The youth blinked, looking up in amazement. Vahn pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. The boy gave thanks enough with his smile and heeded the dismissing nod without further sound. Perfect. Vahn couldn’t have asked for better from one of his own.
When the boy turned a corner, Vahn quickly looked both ways, then traded his black silk for the white cotton. He left his shirt among the garments already removed, then buttoned and tucked in the captain’s. The shirt was bright white, its good condition leading Vahn to believe it was reserved for special occasions—good enough that Arx might wear it when no one of consequence would see. On second thought, Arx probably wouldn’t wear it even here, pretentious aristocrat he was.
Although that realization caused a sudden flutter of heartbeat, Vahn quickly calmed his nerves with the consolation that it didn’t matter whether Arx would really wear it. The question was, would his guards notice whether a shirt were silk or cotton, or question their king’s choice of raiment? Vahn was certain they wouldn’t.
He shook his head so that the wind could blow his hair into a more anonymous style. He had no looking-plate to examine his reflection, but he knew well enough that his face and stature would carry this off. Even Mother had been unable to tell when they played tricks on her, as long as she didn’t see them together.
Assuming the guards had followed normal palace procedures, they had just changed shifts at suns’ rise. Those stationed outside Arx’s cabin would remain if Arx left. The fresh guards would likely not even know if the king had stepped out before they arrived. The real concern was Arx’s personal bodyguards. Surely at least one would be inside with the king.
Below deck, the duke feigned disorientation with a passing sailor in order to ascertain where “his” cabin was. The sailor dutifully gave him directions. The ceilings were too low to accommodate Vahn’s full height so he hunched over and kept an eye out for the bracing timbers that made him duck even further. Creaking planks and the authoritative click of boot heels loudly announced his coming, but he didn’t attempt to hide. Musty air smelled of fish, both cooked and raw. The narrow passages were dimly lit, which would work in his favor.
The two guards stationed outside the door exchanged mild looks of surprise, but didn’t question him. Vahn had forgotten the thrill of perpetrating a wild scheme. He smiled inwardly; he was actually having fun. He’d felt happier and more alive in the last twelve hours than he had in months. He hoped Arx wouldn’t put a damper on his high spirits.
When the door shut silently behind him, Vahn took quick stock of the room. It was small by royal standards, but large by maritime ones. The porthole was large enough to see the fog clearing outside. Numerous seagulls cawed and cavorted just outside the hull. Arx didn’t stir from his slumber. Though the bed seemed built for two, Arx’s limbs sprawled over the entire surface and his feet protruded over the edge. Only one bodyguard slept soundly on the floor.
Then a dark thought entered Vahn’s mind—a thought completely contrary to his original purpose. Might this be his best opportunity to advance his ultimate goal? If Arx were dead, Vahn would have the Throne and even admitting to slaying his brother would not jeopardize it. By the ancient rights of Twin Inheritance, the kingdom should have been half his to begin with. Father had gone against both tradition and the portents of the Archmage to give Arx the entire kingdom instead. Vahn had been cheated of his birthright.
Additionally, Arx had mishandled kingdom affairs. The populace was losing confidence in their monarch and the borders were highly unstable. Eliminating Arx would certainly solve Captain Zinto’s problems as well. Vahn had promised to find Arx another way home besides the Hamrid. A funeral procession would definitely qualify.
Vahn removed the dagger from his boot and tiptoed toward the bed. It was strange to watch the face that looked so much like his own, sleeping there so oblivious to threat. Mother and Father were not alive to be hurt by this. Nor did Vahn much care about all the distant cousins who maintained ties more for politics than any sense of family. He knelt at bedside and stealthily inched the dagger toward his brother’s neck.
The steel glinted in the dim light of the tiny compartment. The edge was sharp and the weapon well-balanced. Vahn was skilled with a blade; he could slice through a throat so fast that Arx would never waken nor know the terror of impending doom. Vahn’s hand didn’t waver as he drew the blade closer to the pulsing neck of his only brother and the last of his close kin.
With neither sound nor disturbance, he held a section of his brother’s hair near the nape of the neck and sheared it off. He replaced the dagger in his boot and held fast to the hair. “Not today, Arx,” he whispered. “Not on the day I set aside for my beloved.” He watched, wondering if his brother would rouse. Arx slept still.
Vahn continued his whispered lecture, his face contorted into a scowl. “You won’t ruin her day and I won’t become the coward Terzak was. It’ll be when II/I am ready, and not before. And you shall have a weapon in your hand and your eyes wide open. No one will ever say that I didn’t give you every right of your position. If you vanquish me on that day, so be it.”
Just then, Vahn felt a blade press against his throat. Slowly, he raised his hands to show he no longer held the dagger, only a handful of hair. The bodyguard behind him was not placated. He pulled Vahn back, using the blade against his neck as leverage.
“Wake up, Arx!” Vahn said.
His brother awoke with a start. Dark eyes grew wide in recognition. Before Arx could take a breath to speak, Vahn held up the hair.
“I could have killed you while you slept if I’d cared to.” Vahn tossed the hair to the bedcovers.
Arx reached up and fingered the shorn spot.
“See?” Vahn taunted. The bodyguard retaliated with a rough pull on Vahn’s shoulders and a tightening on the blade. Vahn felt the warm trickle of blood down his neck.
The other guards burst in the door. They pointed their swords at the already immobilized duke, but Vahn just smirked. Arx was still groggy and Vahn intended to take advantage of it.
“Awfully late, aren’t you?” Vahn sneered at the guards. “How long have I been in here? I entered without question, armed with a dagger—a weapon I am quite capable of putting to lethal use. If I had intended to kill my brother, he would be dead already. Now I suggest you take that dagger from my boot and go outside so my brother and I can chat. While you’re waiting, try to think of one reason why King Arx shouldn’t have all your heads for your failure.”
One of the door guards snatched the dagger from Vahn’s boot and then looked helplessly at his stunned sovereign, quaking as he awaited the king’s verdict.
Arx poked the strands of hair on his bedcovers as if to test their substance. Vahn’s words seemed to register belatedly.
“Search his other boot, then leave us,” Arx muttered.
Vahn’s brows slanted. “Not enough that I refrained when I had the perfect opportunity. You can’t even honor my word as a knight.”
The second guard checked the empty boot and backed out with his companion. The bodyguard reluctantly released his grip, freeing Vahn from the chokehold and the blade. Vahn continued to glare at Arx. The bodyguard stood at attention only a few feet away. There would be no privacy without a more specific order from the king.
“Drop it, Vahn,” Arx hissed. “You’re the one who stole in unannounced. I could have you stripped and flogged for this.”
Vahn’s fingers clenched and his lips twisted into a scowl. It took every ounce of restraint not to knock Arx’s teeth out. “You do that, Brother. And be sure to invite kee to watch. Show her how you reward those who spare your life. In fact, maybe you should beat her too for thwarting your assassination.” His words dripped in sarcasm. He’d die before he’d allow his brother or anyone else to touch her.
Arx’s brows raised as he looked up at Vahn. “kee? She’s improving?”
Vahn shot another disparaging look at the unwelcome bodyguard then lowered his voice. “More than improving. The Archmage came last night after you left. He and his disciples healed her completely. There are scars, but she’s whole and hale—and full of contrition for not showing you proper obeisance.”
“I told her not to worry about that.”
“And I told her the same. She was on her deathbed, for Heaven’s sake. But I intend to honor her publicly and I thought you could do better by her if you’d at least pretend to condone it.”
“Well, of course I condone it. And you know I’d want to represent myself and the queen in full participation. Why didn’t you just send a missive?”
“You didn’t exactly make yourself easy to find. I expected you’d be resting at the inn for a few days, not compelling some poor skipper to squander a years’ wages to get you home.”
Arx stepped out of the bed, grunting. “Rubbish. It’s not that far and Zinto was happy to take us.”
“It’s not the distance; it’s the timing. Did you notice how low the ship was in the water? He has a full hold of silk that needs to get to Dronak. If he takes you north instead, his cargo rots in Rilad harbor all winter.”
“Well, he didn’t mention this.”
“Of course not. You’re the king and he’s a loyal subject. It’s no wonder the peasants think we don’t care when we commandeer their livelihood for our own petty purposes and don’t even notice how much we put them out. Did you offer any compensation?”
The king shifted on the creaky bed.
“I thought not,” Vahn muttered.
“My entourage rode hard to get here on your insistence that the matter with Terzak was urgent. I’m sick of horses and their smell, so I asked Zinto to convey us to Rilad. He agreed. Maybe he’d like to tell his children someday how he once hosted the king.”
More likely, your royal buttocks are sore rather than your snobbish nose offended. Vahn refrained from verbalizing his thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arx. He agreed because he felt it was his duty. Pride wouldn’t allow him to complain. But it’s irrelevant how it happened. What are you going to do, now that you know? If Saerula hadn’t absconded with my carriage, I’d let you take that. Can you trust me enough to find you another way home?”
“No one will be headed north this close to storm season.”
Vahn bit back a smile. “Probably not. But I could possibly find someone to skipper my yacht for you. You pay the skipper a reasonable wage and I’ll call it even.”
“Well, I suppose you won’t scuttle your own boat to kill me. That’ll do.”
Vahn ground his teeth to keep from retorting against the implication. “Excellent. Come back to Rebono Keep and—”
“I’ll stay at the inn. Whatever you want to do for kee, do it quick. Arrange the voyage immediately after her tribute.”
Vahn was torn between relief that he’d not have to tolerate his brother in his house and disappointment for kee. She had her heart set on giving the king a proper welcome. She wouldn’t have wanted Vahn to “bother” him for her acclaim. Vahn expected he’d have to order her to accept any sort of honor as it was.
“Arx, if you want to believe I’m out to kill you, that’s your problem. But for kee, would you at least come to dinner? Give her the illusion that she’s made a good name for my house? I’ll make some excuse not to eat with you. Just let her show you some hospitality and accept it for her sake. Please?”
“On one condition: plan her honors sometime today and I’ll eat at your table tonight. The two of us will conduct ourselves as befits our station, but when I excuse myself early, you will support me by saying that your skipper wants to leave at suns’ rise. Agreed?”
“Agreed. But don’t overdo it feigning the brotherly love. She’s not stupid.” He wished he’d never told Arx that kee was Itzi. He wanted Arx to covet her, maybe even try to woo her to his house. It would be so gratifying to watch her deny him such a treasure. Vahn had no doubt any more that she would deny him. She was his alone.
“I never said she was.”
Vahn dismissed hopes of inciting jealousy and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “I was thinking of a parade at teatime. I will put kee on my mount and have my equerry announce her accolades as he leads the horse through the streets. You and I can ride behind her.”
“I’ll walk,” Arx muttered.
Vahn smiled. This confirmed the royal saddle sores. Still, Arx could have insisted on hiring carriages and Vahn didn’t want to give him any opportunity to hide. Surprising enough he would consent to allowing an Itzi to sit in a higher position. “I will walk as well. Do you wish me at your side or behind you?”
By all rights, Arx was Vahn’s guest in his capital. Vahn could have insisted on equal rank in a parade he was hosting. But it was far more delicious to make his brother choose it himself. Of course, Arx would never want his twin at his back. Vahn could feel his brother agonizing between pretentious pride and utter distrust.
“She is of your house, Vahn. You may walk on my left.”
Vahn bit the insides of his lips. He should have expected Arx to dictate his position and grant permission as if it were some sort of favor. He wanted to spit back a snide reply, but he more desired to preserve the honor afforded kee. He dipped his head and took on a coldly formal tone. “Of course, your majesty. By your leave then?”
Arx dismissed him with an indifferent wave of his hand.
This is what I get for sparing his pompous hide. Vahn gave the bodyguard a contemptuous glare, marched out, demanded his dagger from the door guards, and deliberately implied that he and Arx had discussed grave punishments. He didn’t wipe the scowl from his face until he was back in the open air, cleaning the blood from his neck and changing into his ebon silk.
Chapter 2
Rebono Keep bustled with activity unseen in many months. kee, who just the day before had been too weak to lift her head, now sang happily amidst a mountain of silver serving vessels divided by color, more shining now than tarnished. She wore a dress of silver broadcloth trimmed with glossy black ribbon. The luster of the polished cotton perfectly complemented the mirror shine on the silver bands encircling her neck, ankles, and wrists. Her fingers and apron were both heavily stained with buffing compound.
Willow, a short blonde Itzi dressed in the same uniform sans black gunk and silver bands, entered the dining hall and shook her head at kee. “I tried to finish dusting in time to help you, but looks like I’m too late.”
“kee knows. It’s a wonder Niles kept up with anything, all alone as he was. Master Vahn says we shall have more help soon. He is talking to Lord Blackthorn today.” kee grinned widely. Master Vahn had promised to take her to the Institute for Training and Correction after he found the king. She could hardly wait for her Owner’s Mark. Well-meant comments that King Arx would honor her with invitations to his superior house only made her nervous. She had no desire to serve the king nor did she relish even a slim possibility of brothers dueling over her. Yet, since her marriage to Master Vahn was secret and a king’s edict difficult to evade, the Owner’s Mark would give them both a legal means to refuse without appearing rude or disloyal.
Besides, the Owner’s Mark had been a promised seal of their marriage vows. The bands locked about her ankles, wrists, and neck proclaimed to all that she belonged to him. To her, they were symbols of commitment and all that a wedding ring would be. However, they were the same bands she had worn while Master Vahn was married to Mistress Saerula. Though lighter and more beautiful than the Ringed steel or iron bands most slaves wore, they were symbols of slavery to all but her.
While there was no duchess to demand she be banished from the house again, a tiny voice inside wanted to be certain her secret husband would never again be tempted to “free” her. Emotional scars from the last time had not yet faded. The mages had only cured the physical wounds she acquired in Marquis Terzak’s service.
It was hard to believe Master Vahn could love her as she did him. She, an orphaned Itzi farmgirl, had won the heart of an Elva, and not just any Elva, but the duke of Latoph. kee was still not sure the miraculous healing and everything that followed were naught but proof she had really died and was now in Elysium.
Perhaps the Mark was not as idyllic as a ring and public acknowledgment, but kee was the one who’d rejected that path. It was one matter to hide her Itzi ears and let others assume her dark brown hair was black. Quite another indeed to feign nobility and adopt a role she had neither aptitude nor desire for. She was blissfully happy as his optimess, the head of his house staff. Master Vahn had even appointed her over Niles, the free Elva majordomo.
She looked up at Willow with a smile and a wink, keeping her eyes just short of meeting the other Itzi’s gaze. “kee will finish the silver. Perhaps you could check on the laundry?” Although Willow had assured her that past conflicts in Terzak’s house had not been her fault, kee was still wary. After all, when Willow accepted the servant position here, she hadn’t expected kee to live. kee wasn’t even sure what chores she could assign a freewoman. She hadn’t had time yet to discuss it with Master Vahn.
Willow smiled back and dipped her head. “I’ll see to it. And if the duke doesn’t give you leave to look me in the eyes, I may just walk out on him.” kee caught her teasing inflection. Willow wasn’t really threatening to leave, but rather giving her a sign that she accepted her authority, regardless of the difference in their status.
kee wiped her less dirty hand on a clean cloth and reached out to squeeze Willow’s hand. “kee is sure he will honor your wishes in the matter. And thank you.”
_______
Vahn spoke to nearly everyone he passed in the streets, announcing his parade at teatime and declaring food and drink at Ny’s four largest taverns would be on his account afterward. He whispered into the ears of a few, requesting a meeting later at The Scarlet Dryad. That would be the final tavern he’d make arrangements at, being closest to home and his personal favorite. He had several errands yet before that time.
He bought a new shirt, since the one he’d borrowed had been stained with blood. Vahn found Captain Zinto and his first mate in the marketplace with a citrus vendor, the dejected look on Salty’s face betraying that he’d been given news of Arx’s shanghai. Vahn grinned and handed Zinto the new shirt. “Smooth sailing to Dronak, my friend.”
Zinto’s jaw dropped and blue eyes grew wide. He stood stunned until Salty let out a whoop and broke into a rousing sailor’s song. Zinto shook his head and then bowed at the waist. “Thank you, your highness.”
“Not at all, Captain. Just be sure you wash the sheets.”
Zinto laughed and extended his hand. Vahn clasped wrists with Zinto in the knight’s handshake. Salty slapped his captain on the back to punctuate the song’s refrain, and then started to fill a basket with limes and tangerines as he launched into the next verse.
“I need a skipper for…” Vahn paused. His vessel had been named after the former duchess, Saerula. His marriage had been annulled after she’d kidnapped his son and conspired to assassinate Vahn along with King Arx and Queen Phinia. Vahn hadn’t yet renamed his boat. “… my yacht. Any suggestions?”
Zinto scratched his stubbled chin and scrunched his nose. “I hear Wolbar is wintering in Ny. Just be sure ye hold The Rapier’s sails as surety. I dunnay think he’d trade her for your…” Zinto also paused over the name. Few who frequented the port of Ny were unaware of Saerula’s treachery. “…fine vessel. But ‘twould be an uncommon man who’d nay dream of adding her to his fleet.”
Vahn smiled his thanks. “Good thinking, Captain. Now, there’s to be a parade and festivities into the night, on my tab, if you’d care to delay…?”
Zinto shook his head sharply. “Ho no. Nay going to tempt Heaven that King Arx’ll change his mind. We sail the moment he gets his royal entourage off the Hamrid.”
Vahn chuckled as he nodded. “I don’t blame you. Besides, keeping your men out of the taverns will likely save me a passel of gold.”
Zinto laughed. “Nay doubt there.” He turned to his first mate. “Salty, we ready to head to the docks and see if we cannay help His Majesty disembark?”
“Aye, Captain. I’d lug his trunks m’self, ifn it’d help.”
“Save your back, milord,” Vahn said to Salty. “Arx brought plenty of bootlickers for that. Just smile and bow, and if you’re feeling generous, comment on what a shame it is he shan’t be sailing with you.”
Both Salty and Zinto stared wide-eyed for a moment until they realized the irony. All three men broke into laughter.
_______
Princess Saerula of Ganluc lay sprawled on her velvet chaise in an obscure pastoral chateau. A scarlet dressing gown of diaphanous silk draped over her body and pooled at her ankles. Her fingers curled around the parchment scroll that had just arrived from that wretched country, Latoph. Her husband, who was second in line for Latoph’s throne, should be dead by now—her partner, Marquis Terzak, had promised to see to that. She’d been waiting for confirmation that the promiscuous Itzi-lover was burned to ashes so she could throw a celebratory feast.
The king and queen of Latoph would be next. When they were out of the way, Saerula’s son, Dauntere, would assume Latoph’s throne and Saerula would rule as Queen Mother. Latoph had a myriad of perfect ports, was rich in resources, and ripe with multitudes of peasants to enslave just as her father, King Pendo, had done here in Ganluc. Saerula only had one brother to poison before Ganluc would be hers as well.
For now, the princess shared affections with a muscular young ornament named Laban, who was useless for anything beyond her sensual indulgences and general amusement. The stupid paramour actually thought she’d marry him and take him with her as she moved into power. Dullard. She’d enjoy his charms for now, but sentence him to the mines when he became a liability.
When the messenger who’d brought the missive had left, Saerula slipped a long fingernail under the wax seal and unrolled the scroll. Thin black brows arched as she noticed the handwriting was not that of the marquis.
Your Supreme Majesty,
It is with deep regret that I inform you of the death of Terzak Rebono. King Arx executed him in the public square of Ny. Using four horses owned by the duke to pull him apart.
I await further orders.
It wasn’t signed, but if Terzak was dead, there was only one other who would inform her. Saerula scanned the words again, musing that her informant had not used her husband’s name. The last fool who’d spoken it in her presence had had his tongue cut out.
This was a setback, but she wouldn’t let this dampen her aspirations. She still held the trump card, Dauntere. Or rather, her father did. Saerula wasn’t sure where, precisely, but it was unimportant as long as someone fed the wailing brat and kept him from catching any fatal diseases. Children were such a nuisance. Thank the Heavenlies she’d had a son first. Had her firstborn been a daughter, she’d have been obligated to stay with that philandering koopchuk her father had forced her to marry, not to mention enduring another pregnancy.
Saerula tossed the missive into the fire and drained her gold chalice, running her fingers over the cabochon jewels embedded in the goblet’s bowl. Yes, she’d bide her time, awaiting the outcome of Daddy’s planned war.
“Laban, dear,” she called. “Come pour me some wine. And bring that tasava oil. You may rub me down.”
_______
Vahn continued enthusiastic announcement of the parade and festivities as he made his way through Ny’s crowded streets. He finished his arrangements with the third tavern and hurried onward. Upon catching sight of the large suns’ dial in the center of town, he frowned. Where had the time gone? He wanted to get to the ITC before it got too busy.
Vahn headed home with a spring in his step. It was odd how everything felt so alive and vibrant now, even with winter storms imminent. It had been a very long time since he’d looked forward to a homecoming. From far off, he could see a multitude of table linens and sheets fluttering in the breeze beside Rebono Keep. A smile formed.
At his gates, Vahn clasped wrists with the Captain of his Castle Guard, Lord Najost Shil. News of kee’s miraculous recovery had already spread. Vahn had told everyone he saw on his way out that morning. “Parade for kee will be at teatime,” Vahn said to Shil. “You shall lead a full honor guard in dress uniforms. Arx and I will walk. Also, please fit Lord Chupo with something suitable. I want him leading Fortitude with kee atop.”
“Excellent idea, your highness. His deep voice is perfect and no one else—besides you, of course—can control that spirited creature. I thought we’d never catch him after the execution. I swear, he knew exactly what he was doing—looked like he conspired with the other horses to be sure Terzak’s torso came with him so he could run it through the mud and buck at it.”
Vahn chuckled. “Yes, he did seem supremely pleased with himself even from my vantage point. There are no traces of the traitor’s body about town, I trust?” The last thing Vahn wanted was for kee to catch sight of the hand that had abused her.
“No. All the horses ended up here and the dogs gnawed a while before I decided Terzak wasn’t really fit for such fine—”
Vahn interrupted him with a laugh.
Shil grinned. “I burned the remains and left his ashes with the koopchuk dung.”
“Very appropriate.”
“I’ll see to the details for the parade.”
“Excellent. You should also know King Arx will return here for supper.” Vahn tried to keep his tone even. He’d invited his brother, so he had no right to resent his presence. “Please see to the proper banners as you did before. I was too distracted to thank you, but I did appreciate it. There are about a hundred details I forgot then that I must do right this time.”
“Consider it done. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I’ll do that, Captain. Carry on.” He rested in the knowledge that Shil and Chupo would see to the details.
Vahn bounded toward the great ebony doors that stood at the entrance to his home. First to catch his eye were the polished doorknobs and knocker. He’d forgotten they were silver. They hadn’t looked this shiny in months. The woman’s touch, he thought with a smile. Heavens, but he’d missed his domestics. Niles had kept the clothes washed and the food cooked, but no one could expect him to do as much as twelve women once had.
Vahn turned the knob and pushed open the heavy door. Willow’s smile and cheery greeting welcomed him.
He was slightly disappointed it wasn’t kee. Doubtless she was busy despite his suggestion she take it easy her first day out of death’s door. That she would have no part in shirking had been a foregone conclusion before Vahn even woke. kee had been up before the suns rose, snuck out of bed and down to the slave quarters, dressed in a house uniform, and returned to waken him with a kiss.
Their first kiss, the night before, had been sublime, yet it came on the wings of high emotion following her miraculous healing. This simple morning kiss, to him, had conveyed even more. He’d said before that Saerula never really loved him, but it had been a platitude to ease his heartbreak. Her feint was now so obvious he marveled that he’d ever believed it.
Vahn had wanted to pull kee back into bed right then and there, but her soft urging to find Arx and the promise of a real shave tore him from the bed. She slipped her hand in his and led him to his favorite chair, then disappeared into the bathing room. It took a little time for the hot water to travel down the gravity-fed plumbing from the Lens Tower, but it was still much quicker than heating on a stove.
That moist heat never felt so good as it did when she wrapped his face in the steaming towel, cooing sweet affections and kissing his brow. He sighed contentedly as she sharpened the razor on the strop, humming softly.
“kee?” The towel muffled his voice.
“Yes, Master Vahn?”
He moved the towel a little. “You don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
“kee knows, but kee did not accept your bands to pretend. Being your slave is not just some disguise. If kee were to switch her speech back and forth, eventually, kee would make a mistake in front of others. Then you would be forced to discipline kee.”
He winced; she was right. It was a master’s prerogative to invite only one slave to his bed. Quite another to show favoritism in matters outside the bedroom. Could he bring himself to discipline her? He would hate such a situation far more than she. “Do you ever do anything without thinking of me first, my love?”
“No,” she giggled. “But if it’s any consolation, think of it as a code.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist. She rearranged the towel over his mouth just before he issued a muffled, “Code?”
“Master may mean many things to others, but to kee it is an endearment. When you hear it from kee, think of it as a code for ‘Beloved’.”
He released her, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair. “Mmmmn.” He’d have to think of some code he could use for her. Right now, he was too distracted by her intoxicating scent and the sensual touch of her fingertips gliding soap over his face.
Her preparations took longer than his last optimess’s, but he’d not complain. He wasn’t sure whether it was the relish of something so long lost, or because kee was so dear to his heart, but he was sure this shave was superior to any he’d ever had.
A cough, presumably from Willow, drew Vahn out of his reverie, and he gave her a pat on the back to hide his embarrassment. A quick survey of the immaculate foyer sent his brows upward, accompanied by a soft gasp. “I hope you all are remembering to breathe.” He shook his head and smiled. “Do I have the right place? I was looking for Rebono Keep.”
The answer came from across the hall in a soothing alto. “This is Rebono Keep, Master Vahn.”
kee’s voice sent a warm wave up his spine and over his face. Certain Willow would notice him blushing, Vahn turned toward kee. His gaze traveled down, for kee was shorter than he by two feet. Yet, she was not where he expected to find her.
“Welcome home, Master.”
Both his pointed ears and probing gaze now found his secret wife, on her knees with her torso bent over and her head pressed to the floor. The Submissive Kneel was unforeseen, even for her. “Thank you, kee. I don’t know what Terzak required, but a simple bow would have been sufficient.” He kept his tone light. It wasn’t a rebuke. Besides, her kneel reminded him not to follow impulse and embrace her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Willow shudder at the mention of Terzak.
kee lifted her torso but remained on her knees. “The former marquis neither required nor deserved such an honor. You do. With your permission, kee would like to institute it among the house slaves. Willow and Niles would be exempt, of course.”
Vahn pondered. She’d never been so assertive before. Of course, she’d never been his optimess either. That spark of leadership made her all the more attractive and he hated to say anything that might dampen it. However, if he wasn’t careful, kee could inflate his pride into the realm of the Heavenlies. “Let us leave it as an option. If you do it, the adept will mimic you. But I will not request it, nor punish any who do not follow suit. Fair enough?”
“Whatever pleases you,” she replied, beaming that irrepressible smile of hers.
He extended his hand.
She shook her head as she revealed her palms. “kee has been polishing silver. Her hands are dirty.”
He did not retract. “So noted, but mine are also.”
She slipped her delicate hand into his and rose from the floor.
He kissed her forehead and turned to Willow. “Please tell Niles I want a simple repast for four in twenty minutes. kee and I need to leave soon.” Willow nodded and opened her mouth to confirm, when he held up a delaying hand to preclude it. “King Arx will join us for supper. You and Niles will see to the details. A formal setting in the parlor, I think. Keep the menu simple. I am well aware how shorthanded you are. The state of the keep is no one’s fault but my own. I’d rather have my staff calm and confident in front of the king, than have the fixtures any shinier and you harried and exhausted. Please relay that to Niles.”
“Yes, your highness.” Willow dipped her head and hurried toward the kitchen.
Vahn tugged kee toward the stairs. His tone changed once they were out of Willow’s earshot. “I don’t know if I can do this, kee. When I see you, I want to take you in my arms.”
“You are the duke. Any maiden in the land could be yours with but a word.”
“I don’t want any but you.”
“You have kee,” she whispered.
He pulled her into the master suite and shut the door.
They were late to brunch. Neither Niles nor Willow said a word when they returned—scrubbed, redressed, and fresh. He didn’t care what his servants thought. He would maintain decorum in front of them, but even if they gossiped, he was safe because of kee’s bands. Engaging in recreation with one’s own slaves, especially when one was presumably single, was considered acceptable pastime for aristocracy, as long as one was discreet and guarded one’s noble seed. He’d never taken advantage of the laxity of the law while married to Saerula because he felt it would dishonor her and he only did so now with one slave, his secret wife.
“Your guests have not arrived, your highness,” Willow informed him.
“Yes they have,” Vahn said with a grin. “This brunch is for us. I want you, Niles, and kee to join me at my table.”
All three servants gasped in concert.
“I’m tired of eating alone. When I have no other guests, I would like company, and who better than my most trusted staff? I’m seeing to some new slaves today, but I reserve my table for those who have earned a place.” Slowly, the bewildered servants approached the chairs. Vahn nodded encouragement.
“Someone will have to train the new slaves, and doubtless some meals will require more attention in the kitchen. Niles and Willow, you may change out of your uniforms for supper when you join me.” He thought it best to give the free servants some small advantage so no one would guess his ulterior motive. kee would probably be least able to exercise the privilege, but he would find a way to share a meal with his wife occasionally.
Niles ate with all the refinement and confidence of a gentleman, even making polite conversation. Willow and kee, though both well-mannered, took very small portions and ate in silence. Vahn tried to remember the last time he’d eaten with kee, before she’d joined his house, when Saerula spent the entire meal prattling about her pregnancy woes. He recalled that kee had eaten very little then and decided it was an Itzi trait and nothing he should comment on. Willow and kee both knew he wouldn’t starve them like Terzak had, didn’t they?
The duke turned his gaze to his faithful majordomo. “Niles, as soon as I find a new cook, I’d like to promote you to Castellan of Mors Manor, if you’d like the position.”
“I’d be honored, your highness.”
“The place is ransacked, but that was my doing. I think the peasants under Terzak’s heel needed some form of retaliation.”
The two Itzi nodded to that. When all had finished eating, kee stood and reached for the nearest platter.
“Let me get that, kee.” Willow gently removed the platter from kee’s hand. “You and the duke need to get going.”
Chapter 3
Vahn walked toward the ITC with kee maintaining the respectful distance proper for a slave. He decided not to inform her of the parade until absolutely necessary. She’d either try to talk him out of it or spend her time fretting. “kee, what do you think I should request as criteria for new slaves?” he asked over his shoulder.
Bare feet hurried across the cobbles to make up some of the distance between them. She fell in a single pace behind him and furrowed her brows in thought. Could she possibly realize how much her subtle deferential gestures delighted him? She never assumed anything, never took advantage of her secret status. “Walk beside me, please,” he said softly. In two steps, she closed the space and matched his gait.
“Perhaps willingness to learn is most important,” she offered.
“Excellent. Speaking of learning—I was serious about teaching Willow to read. Any other slaves I bring into the house can join her in lessons. You can do it openly. I don’t want you to hide your abilities.” She bit her lips and nodded. “Yes, I still think you should hide your ears,” he added, guessing what concerned her.
“Hiding it from the other slaves caused resentment, Master Vahn,” she whispered.
“Hmm. I didn’t realize.” He studied her a few moments. Her eyes were averted and her face was neutral. He decided not to ask what form this resentment had taken. “Perhaps when a slave has earned your trust, you may bring her to me. II/I shall tell her, making it clear that you were under orders to keep it secret and emphasizing how painfully I might retaliate should she decide to spread our secret. Of course, no one will know the full truth.”
She grinned. “As you wish, Master.”
Her smile thrilled him. He wondered how long his title had been a secret endearment to her. Now that he knew, he could hear it in her voice. When he fell silent, she slowed until the original distance was regained, then shadowed him again.
The “check-out” line was short at the Institute for Training and Correction. “Check-in” was empty. Vahn stepped up to the window and flashed a winning smile at the woman wearing purple silk with a gold embroidered ITC emblem.
“Good afternoon, your highness. May I help you?” asked the scribe.
“I’d like to see Lord Blackthorn. I sent word earlier to expect me.”
kee took a tentative step. He didn’t want to ask the check-in scribe about her Owner’s Mark. Blackthorn was the Headmaster and a friend. He’d know who was the best tattooist and could ensure kee saw no other. Vahn prepared to raise his hand if kee spoke, knowing it would take nothing more. She didn’t need even that.
“He’s waiting in Faithful Obeisance Chamber. It’s down the—”
“I know where it is, thank you.”
The scribe dipped her head and Vahn gave an automatic return of the courtesy. He strode down the stone hall, then stopped at the door and stood aside for kee to pass.
“Standard announcement?” she whispered.
“Yes, I think so. He’ll be more interested in you than me anyhow.”
She looked puzzled by his prediction yet proceeded without question. She opened the door, backed out of his way, and announced proudly, “His Royal Highness, Prince Vahn Rebono, duke of Latoph.”
_______
Galen Blackthorn sat at his desk in Faithful Obeisance Chamber, quilling notes to parchment records. Duke Vahn had sent word he wanted a meeting sometime between late morning and early afternoon. Blackthorn didn’t want to be with another client when the duke arrived. Besides, he assumed the duke would ask him to give kee’s eulogy and the very thought made him too furious to train slaves right now. Assisting with Terzak’s execution had not alleviated his anger as much as he’d hoped.
He was vaguely aware when the door opened, but too engrossed in records to look up. It was likely another page with a question or message. Since he started, he’d been interrupted three times and paid it no heed.
That voice, however, demanded a look. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “kee? Is that really… but how…?”
kee merely smiled and nodded. Duke Vahn made his way through the door while Blackthorn jumped out of his seat and bounded across the room, excitement bubbling into a grin while he took in her miraculous appearance. There she stood—her young face unscarred where the night before he’d seen jagged gouges stitched in black thread. She’d barely had the energy to speak—wounded, emaciated, and dying. Now she stood there without any signs of weakness, looking as vital as the first time he saw her.
He nearly hugged her before it registered that she wore the duke’s house uniform and his silver slave bands. He caught himself just in time to avert a serious breach of manners. “May I?” he asked her master.
“By all means,” Duke Vahn chuckled.
Blackthorn whisked her up in his arms and spun her in a circle. She rewarded him with a demure giggle. He set her down, shaking his head. “Look at you! Here I am all despondent because I lost my best student and you were faking it!”
“No, Lord Blackthorn,” she gasped.
“We have Archmage Raedan to thank for her recovery,” Duke Vahn said.
“Well, this is wonderful. Thank you for bringing her by, your highness.”
“Not at all. We have several items of business here. My new optimess asked for an Owner’s Mark and I agreed, as long as it’s tattooed. I want a facsimile of my house crest—in color, good detail. Whom do you recommend?”
“I think Lewart Pons would be the best man for the job. When did you want it?”
Vahn glanced at kee. She nodded emphatically. “As soon as possible,” he answered.
“I’ll send for him right now.” Blackthorn stepped out.
“Please do. I also need to discuss rebuilding my house, but it can wait.”
_______
Vahn turned to kee when they were alone. “If this hurts or you change your mind, don’t be afraid to say so. You don’t have to do this for me, all right?”
She stepped to face him and gazed up into his eyes, taking both his hands in hers. Her hands were soft and warm. Vahn felt a shiver course his spine.
She spoke in a dulcet purr. “Would you have removed your wedding ring if it were merely uncomfortable?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’d have it enlarged or replaced if need be.”
She smiled, her crystal blue eyes sparkling like the sea. “You’ll not be replacing kee. You’re stuck with her forever.”
“Just how I like it.” He drew her into an embrace and then a lingering kiss
_______
Blackthorn found Pons cleaning his needles. “I need you to come quickly to Faithful Obeisance. Duke Vahn has a job for you. Bring the colored ink.” The young man blinked, doubtless surprised at the request. He mostly tattooed Numbers which dictated the year a term of indenture ended. There was an occasional Owner’s Mark, but even those were likely to be black.
“Right away, milord.”
Blackthorn left him to gather the proper tools. The Headmaster returned to his training room to find the duke and his optimess in an embrace. He berated himself for not having knocked.
The duke didn’t seem angry for the interruption when he broke the kiss and turned to wink at Blackthorn. The duke grinned mischievously and said, “Three hundred.”