Tyrant’s Blood

Kilt grew serious. ‘So, do we trust this man?’ he asked Jewd.

His big friend nodded. ‘Yes. He’s genuine.’

‘What’s going on?’ Leo asked, chewing on a cake.

Kilt fixed him with a grave look. ‘The man you spoke of years ago. You know, the one who is now aide to the emperor?’

‘Freath?’ Leo said, looking between them. ‘Tell me Loethar’s slit his throat,’ he added, putting his cake down and swallowing. Then he glared. ‘But then he’ll have stolen more from me. I want to be the one to spill that traitor’s—’

Both men shook their heads. ‘He’s not dead,’ Kilt replied, cutting off Leo’s words. ‘He’s made contact.’

Leo leaned forward. ‘What?’ he whispered, shocked.

‘Well, not contact, exactly. But there’s word out. We’ve just received it.’

‘What do you mean?’

Faris left it to Jewd, who took up the thread of conversation. ‘A few days ago Tern picked up snippets of information that money was greasing palms all over the north’s “network”.’ Leo nodded with understanding. ‘Word was moving in certain circles that an influential man was seeking an audience with the infamous highwayman of Penraven.’

Leo’s expression darkened and he scratched softly at the close beard he was growing, his syrupcakes forgotten.

Jewd continued, ‘We paid attention, of course, but we’ve had this happen before.’ He shrugged. ‘Lots of influential men want to speak with Kilt.’

‘Usually to claim the bounty on my head,’ Kilt grumbled.

Leo looked at him. ‘You’re safe, though, aren’t you?’

‘Not safe enough it seems. The barbarians came too close recently. We got sloppy.’

‘You didn’t,’ Jewd admitted. ‘That was my fault.’

Leo shook his head. ‘Jewd, it was no one’s fault.’

Kilt sighed. ‘Attributing blame is pointless. The fact is, they nearly stumbled across you, Leo. We must never be off our guard. As for me, no one outside of our band even knows what I look like. Most people in this town, don’t know who we are. And this town might keep its secrets quiet but it also knows everyone and everything passing through it.’

‘Aren’t you two rather easily identifiable?’

‘Not when I wear women’s clothing,’ Kilt offered indignantly. Leo smiled.

‘He’s not jesting,’ Jewd said, sounding slightly exasperated. ‘He’s done it many times. I’ve walked alongside him when he’s been an old man, an old woman, a blind beggar, a noble.’

‘Ah, but my leper was the best, wasn’t it?’ Kilt said.

‘He was a triumph,’ Jewd agreed.

‘People gave me such a wide berth. It was wonderful. I shall have to find that old pair of clappers we’ve got somewhere and roll him out again.’

Leo frowned. ‘I’m sure Lily would appreciate the humour.’

‘No, well, that’s right,’ Kilt said, his theatrics dampened. ‘It’s why I haven’t used him for a while. And anyway, it’s not just me.’ He lightly slapped his big friend’s chest. ‘Jewd loves all the get-ups too. He came into this very town not so long ago as a drunken friar.’

Leo looked over at Jewd and broke into laughter. ‘And that definitely wasn’t drawing attention to yourself, was it?’

‘Aha,’ Kilt said, waggling a finger. ‘Sometimes you can deflect the scrutiny by giving people something else to focus on.’

‘Is that why you’re wearing that ridiculous twirled moustache, then?’

‘Well, I’m glad you finally mentioned my ingenious disguise,’ Kilt said, feigning offence.

‘And I’m glad you’re having fun,’ Leo grumbled. ‘My disguise is real.’

Both men glanced at the crutch balanced against the table. ‘The arrow-wound is healing well. Give it time,’ Jewd reassured. ‘It will be as good as new as long as you trust Lily’s herbals and the chirosurgeon’s advice.’

‘If only they knew,’ Kilt mused. Then he smiled encouragingly at his young king. ‘At least you’ll have a warrior’s wound to show for your time with us.’

‘How long before I’m ready?’ Leo griped.

‘Not yet,’ Jewd replied.

Leo glanced at Kilt, who shook his head. ‘You’re only just a man now, Leo. We have lots to plan before you can start plotting an overthrow. You can’t ignore the fact that Loethar has been very subtle.’

Leo grimaced. ‘He’s a better ruler than I would have ever given him credit for.’

‘I think the mere fact that you do credit him with this is a sign of your maturity. As few as three anni ago you wouldn’t have been able to see that.’

The king became thoughtful. ‘Perhaps he is all that the Set ever needed.’

Both men gave sounds of disgust. ‘No, majesty,’ Kilt murmured firmly. ‘He stole your crown, he usurped your throne, he effectively murdered your parents and a lot of other good people. He wrote his imperial title in blood. And yet the true heir lives—he’s a man now. One day soon he’ll be ready to claim what is his. A Valisar has been on that throne for five centuries. It is your duty to return that regal line.’

Leo sighed. ‘I know all the rhetoric, Kilt. I just keep thinking that there’s peace now. It’s been a decade. Everyone has settled down to living harmoniously. I can’t forgive what he’s done but I am only one person…with a grudge. I keep wondering whether it’s better for the good of the Set, but especially for Penraven, that I suffer my family history and its sorrows in silence.’

Faris sat back, glad that they’d taken the precaution of seating themselves so well away from others. He could not have risked anyone hearing this conversation. He shrugged. ‘Well, before we start any discourse with Freath, you’d better seriously consider your position. I gave your father my word about several things, and one of them was to do everything in my power to return the Valisar throne to you. But there’s no point to that if you don’t want it.’

Leo glared at him. ‘Are you really going to meet with Freath? Is he mad, Jewd?’ he asked, turning to their companion.

‘I think so, is the answer to both those questions.’

‘Kilt,’ Leo spluttered. ‘Freath is a snake. No, he’s less. He’s vermin. And he’ll be up to something, mark my words. The man betrayed my parents. I watched him. I heard him. He laughed at both of their grisly deaths. He helped Loethar keep my brother on a leash, in a dirty shirt that carried the blood of my father. He would give you up to Loethar without a second’s hesitation.’

‘Which is why he won’t get the chance,’ Faris said jauntily.

‘Kilt, don’t. He’s not someone to allow into your life. He cannot be trusted, I tell you. I’ll kill him as soon as I see him.’

Faris looked pained by the younger man’s bravado. ‘Who said anything about trust? I want to know what his game is. If he’s up to something—or if Loethar is, and I know the emperor wants my head staring sightlessly from a spike at Brighthelm—then it’s in my interest to find out everything I can.’

‘It’s a trap, I tell you,’ Leo said vehemently.

Ciara returned. ‘Fresh dinch,’ she said, laying down the pot and mug. ‘You’ve got enough honey, I see,’ she said, opening the pot on the table but looking at Leo.