Guardian of the Crown Read online

  “Will the guard be all right?”

  “Yes.” Willow felt safe assuring him of that. “They’ll catch the man who did it.”

  Felix knelt to hug Ernest, who’d woken from a nap to come bounding over to meet them. “And he’ll tell them who sent him?”

  “He will.” Willow realized she had her knife in her hand and sheathed it. And then I’ll go after his employer. “We’ll be more careful next time.”

  “I don’t want to go outside anymore.” He laid his cheek against Ernest’s face and didn’t smile when the dog licked him.

  “I know. But we’ll be more careful. It was my fault for not remembering to be sneaky, and that’s my job. I’m sorry.”

  Kerish pushed open the door. “The bodyguard came back,” he said. “The assassin—” He looked at Felix. “Can I talk to you privately, Willow?”

  “Did he escape?” Felix said, his eyes wide with fear.

  “No, he…” Kerish gave up. “The guard killed him in self-defense. I know, Willow, and he’s as angry about it as anyone. They brought the body back and I thought you might want to have a look, in case there’s anything that might identify who sent him.”

  “I’ll come. Maybe you could stay with Felix?”

  “All right. Let’s go have a bath, all right? You don’t want to smell like those monkeys, do you?”

  Felix gave him a weak smile. “I guess not.”

  With Ernest trailing them and yipping occasionally with happiness at being allowed to roam the Residence, they went down the stairs, where Willow left them to go to the courtyard. The afternoon sun beat down on the hard-packed earth, and Willow felt even sweatier just looking at the glare. Men and women gathered around a supine form Willow recognized as the assassin. She pushed through the crowd and knelt beside the body. His face was already sunken in death, his lips and eyelids bluish. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, which was torn above his heart. He was Tremontanan.

  Willow saw the second bodyguard standing nearby, his own clothes bloody. He saw her in the same moment and began speaking rapidly in Eskandelic, gesturing at the dead assassin and then at himself. “Why didn’t he capture the bastard?” Willow said to Catrela, who was kneeling beside the body.

  “It an unfortunate accident was,” Catrela said. “He apologizes to you and asks you the young King’s forgiveness to ask.”

  Willow scowled at the man, whose words became more urgent. “It’s all right,” she said. “Better you didn’t let him kill you.” She crouched beside Catrela. “I don’t suppose he’s wearing easily identifiable clothing or carrying a note that says who sent him?”

  “Unfortunately he has no such things,” Catrela said. “His clothing gives no sign of who he is.” She sat back, squatting near the body, and added, “A Tremontanan assassin the work of Terence Valant will be.”

  “Or one of the principalities wants to disguise its involvement by hiring a Tremontanan,” Willow said. “But either way, what matters is someone really wants Felix dead, if they’re willing to send an assassin to strike in the middle of the city.”

  “Someone with resources,” Catrela agreed.

  “This is my fault,” Willow said. “I was careless.”

  “So were we all,” Janida said. She gestured at a couple of the men standing nearby. “Dispose of the body, and see that your patrols are extended past the main gate.”

  “Inside, now,” Catrela said to Willow, “and we will discuss.”

  Once inside the hemispherical room, Janida removed her headwrap and tossed it on a nearby chair. “This should not have happened,” she said to Willow. “The young King will not be able to endure these attacks for long before it makes him too fearful.”

  “Then we need to be more aggressive,” Willow said. “Somebody is behind these attacks, and I want to know who.”

  “A Tremontanan assassin tells us much,” Catrela pointed out. “Terence Valant may independently acting be.”

  “True. But we can’t ignore the possibility that a principality did this, and there are only a few with the means and desire to carry it out.” Willow paced from one side of the room to the other. “Mahnouki has the most to lose if Eskandel supports Felix’s claim. Sahaki has close ties with Tremontane and contact with Terence, and so does Takjashi. Abakian is staunchly opposed to our question and supports Terence completely. Hajimhi—”

  “You cannot suspect them. They are neutral in this,” Janida said.

  “Except Hajimhi Fariola was clear she wants Terence to rule because he’ll provide stability. Or at least she thinks he will. I don’t want to disregard that.”

  “I think you are wrong, but your logic makes sense. Very well. Hajimhi.”

  Catrela ticked the five names off on her fingers. “I am reluctant to say it,” she said, “but we must add Khasjabi Donia to the list.”

  “You had better have evidence for that,” Janida said. “Khasjabi has been a loyal friend to Serjian for over one hundred years.”

  “Didn’t she swear to stand with us?” Willow said, remembering a dark-haired woman with a narrow face and blue eyes.

  “Donia has been treating with Mahnouki Adorinda for something I have not been able to learn,” Catrela said. “They have had little in common for many years, so I am suspicious, the more so because she has kept it a secret from us. Not the action of someone whose motives pure are.”

  Janida looked sour. “That does not mean she would kill a child,” she said.

  “Donia is ruthless, as ruthless as you are, sister,” Catrela said. “She will do what is best for her principality and she might consider that action best for Eskandel as well. And she knew of Felix’s presence here before it was public knowledge.”

  “Then we must prove her loyalties soon, because we cannot have allies we do not trust.” Janida sat on the chair, picked up her headwrap and twisted it into a short rope.

  “I’m going down to the harbor, see if I can find Giles,” Willow said. “I’m better equipped to find out who hired our assassin than you are.”

  “Very true,” Catrela said. “I think it unlikely is that a principality would risk being found out by involving others, but it not a possibility to ignore is.”

  “Then I’ll be back for supper. Tell Felix not to worry.” She left the room at a near-run, propelled by a new sense of urgency.

  She saw guards at the entrance to the Residence now, all of whom paid her close attention but didn’t try to stop her. She made a rude gesture in their direction that, judging by their lack of reaction, didn’t mean anything in Eskandel. What was the point of their being alert now if they’d let an assassin past before? She still didn’t see guards at the black arch. Several Residences lay beyond it, not just Serjian. Who was responsible for security there? The whole situation made her furious. Felix might be smart not to want to go outside anymore, if no one could guarantee his safety.

  The crowds were thinner now, probably because of the noonday heat. She ought to be indoors as well, napping, but she was too keyed up to sleep. With luck, she’d find Rafferty easily, and he or his fellow expatriates would know where to look for the kind of men and women who would take money to murder a child.

  Rafferty had bid them all farewell four days ago, saying, “I’ve appreciated the hospitality, but I find I’m impatient to be among my own people. A few months, and I can probably go home again.”

  “Good luck, Giles,” Willow had said, and had been startled when he caught her up in his giant embrace and thumped her hard on the back in a comradely fashion. Then he’d knelt in front of Felix and said, “Good fortune to you, your Majesty.”

  “I still don’t like you,” Felix had said, “but you were honorable, and Hilarion says honor is prince among the virtues. I don’t know which virtue is king, though.”

  “When you find out, let me know,” Rafferty had said, and then he was gone. Now, as she made her way through the jostling, noisy crowds that smelled of hot sun and roasted lamb, she wondered if he’d found what he was looking f
or. She would find the enclave today… it never hurt to have a backup plan, and hers was to make herself and Felix disappear if Eskandel wouldn’t back him and Terence Valant’s minions came calling.

  Willow dodged around a donkey who looked like it might have been Rosamund’s ill-tempered cousin and nearly tripped over some running children. She half-turned to watch them go and caught sight, briefly, of someone ducking quickly around a corner with a furtive movement that drew her eye as surely as if the person had just stood and waved at her. She pretended she hadn’t seen anything and kept walking. If someone had picked her as an easy mark, they were about to get a painful lesson in underestimating foreigner women.

  The street she was on was full of shops, though Willow only called them that because there were wares on display and people were giving other people money for them. Instead of store fronts, the sellers laid out their goods on bright rugs in front of open doors and sat cross-legged on thick mats next to them, not calling out to passersby the way an Aurilien merchant would do, but silently waiting for people to stop, admire, and buy. A lot of business was being transacted this way.

  Willow passed a woman sitting next to a display of brass pots that made her skin vibrate, then doubled back quickly as if to examine the pots more closely. Her eyes watering, she quickly scanned the crowd behind her and identified her shadow just before he ducked back behind a tall stand of paper parasols. Amberesh. What was he doing in Umberan?

  She moved on, keeping one eye on the Jauderish and the other on the road ahead of her, and sought the young man out by his metal. He was armed with a long, straight sword, not one of the curved Eskandelic swords she was now familiar with, and wore a chain mesh shirt under his long, colorful robe. He must be sweltering, she thought, and doubled back again just to see how he’d react. He was actually quite good at concealing himself. He was out of sight so quickly the second time that if she hadn’t been able to perceive him by her inherent magic, she’d have missed him entirely.

  Amberesh in Umberan. Well, Janida hadn’t said he had to wander the desert wastes, just that he couldn’t take advantage of the Serjian name or wealth. And a big city like Umberan had plenty of opportunities for someone who needed to support himself any way he could. But why was he following her? Unless he really did mean to take revenge on her for getting him banished, which didn’t seem at all unlikely.

  Willow looked around for a place to arrange an ambush, then changed her mind. She was a stranger here, and incapable of explaining why she’d decided to attack an Eskandelic citizen unprovoked, as far as anyone knew. And it wasn’t as if Amberesh could do anything to her in the middle of the street, let alone catch her unawares. Even so, feeling him at her back left her unsettled.

  She explored the city at random, just to make Amberesh think she was lost, but made sure to stay within the public areas and retreat from the residential streets when she stumbled on them. Umberan was less well organized than Aurilien, but in a pleasant way. The center of the city had houses next to businesses and little parks at random intervals, most of them with cool fountains unlike anything Aurilien had outside private estates. It made her wonder who was charged with keeping it all clean and free from refuse. The principalities? They made and enforced laws, but what about municipal requirements? Something to ask Catrela later.

  After about half an hour, she found someone to change money for her and then bought a skewer of lamb chunks with roasted peppers to eat as she walked. Time to find Rafferty and the other Tremontanans. “Do you speak Tremontanese?” she asked the first vendor she passed in Eskandelic. The woman shook her head, but pointed in the direction of someone selling cones of sugared nuts. Willow bought one, then repeated her question.

  “Yes, though well no,” the vendor said. “What is?”

  “I am looking for more Tremontanans,” Willow said, trying not to speak so slowly he’d take it as an insult. “I hear they live in a group here.”

  The man nodded. “Toward the harbor,” he said, pointing. “Ten and five streets south, ten streets west. You see them. They make neighbors good.”

  “Thank you,” Willow said, and headed off in the direction he’d indicated. Near the harbor, huh? Maybe she would finally see the ocean.

  The route didn’t take her far enough south to reach the shore, though she caught glimpses of the waves rolling in and the harbor where dozens of ships stood at anchor out in the deep water. Felix would want to see it, too. They should find time to visit, though Willow still felt anxious when she thought of going anywhere public with the young King, despite his formidable bodyguards. It made her angry that someone was making it all necessary, either Terence Valant or one of the Eskandelic principalities or both working together. Felix was still just a child, and he deserved not to have to live in fear.

  She realized she’d lost count of the streets almost at the same moment she realized she was passing familiar faces—or, rather, not familiar so much as similar to her own. This street was out of the way, and quieter than the others, but the bright colors and arched doorways were the same. Men and women sitting in a trellised courtyard drinking khaveh from tiny brass cups watched her closely. She smiled and veered over to greet them.

  “I’m looking for Giles Rafferty,” she said. “He came here a few days ago?”

  “Never heard of him,” said one of the women, who had a livid scar running from her forehead to her cheek across her left eyelid, which sagged as if empty.

  “He’s a friend of mine. We traveled to Umberan together.”

  “Still never heard of him.” The woman leaned forward, smiling. It wasn’t a friendly smile. “You don’t look like someone just traveled here from the old country. Look like someone wants to be native.” She was dressed in the rough trousers and cotton shirt of a Tremontanan laborer. In fact, none of them were dressed in Eskandelic clothing and none of them looked very friendly.

  “Neither did Giles, when he arrived,” Willow said. “We’re still Tremontanans like you.”

  That drew a laugh from everyone. “You don’t look like anyone who ever slept hard in an attic in the freezing winter,” said a man sitting near the scarred woman. “Nor went hungry in summer.”

  “She’s done that, and more,” Rafferty said, emerging from the building attached to the courtyard. “Willow. I didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

  “You said such nice things about the people here, I couldn’t stay away,” Willow said, straight-faced. Rafferty chuckled.

  “Sit and have a drink,” he said, taking a seat at an unoccupied table. “Rickard, bring our guest something.” The man who’d spoken to Willow stood and disappeared into the building.

  Rafferty sipped from his small cup. It looked smaller in his large hands. “Don’t be offended by their behavior. If someone comes looking for one of us by name, she’s generally the law.”

  “I see,” Willow said. “You could have mentioned that.”

  “I didn’t know you’d be looking for me any time soon. Is something wrong with…our young friend?”

  Rickard returned with another of the tiny cups full of hot, sweet khaveh with thick foam on the top. Willow took an incautiously large swallow and winced as it burned her tongue. “He’s well, but…” She glanced around at the men and women, who weren’t concealing their interest in the conversation. “I take it these are some of your fellow rebels?”

  “We prefer to be called ‘insurgents,’” the scarred woman said. “Giles, who is this woman?”

  “This is Willow North, and she agreed to take me south after my little misunderstanding with the law,” Rafferty said. “Willow, this is Rickard, Ellie, Fern, Kev, and Samuel. Friends of mine who’ve had to make a living far from their homeland.”

  Willow nodded at them. They still didn’t look very friendly. Rafferty finished his khaveh and set the little cup down with a tock on the wooden table top. “Let’s take a walk. I’ll show you the boundaries of this place so you can find your way back later.”

  Willow gul
ped down her khaveh, once again singeing her tongue, and followed him into the street. “You didn’t come here just for the sake of my charm,” he said when they were well away from the others. “What do you need?”

  “Felix was attacked again, this time on the street.”

  “I assume the attack failed, or this would be a different kind of conversation.”

  “Yes. But the assassin was Tremontanan. I was wondering if you knew of anyone who might take that kind of job.”

  “Not one of my people, that’s sure,” Rafferty said. “But there are any number of men and women who are here because of worse crimes than wanting to protect their families from Ascendants. Do you think the pretender arranged it?”

  “I don’t know. Right now I’m just hoping to find who hired the man and see where that leads. What about Eskandelics? We don’t know the nationality of the first assassin.”

  “The poorer part of Umberan is full of people who’ll do pretty much anything for money. I don’t know much about it, but my friends do, and some of them speak Eskandelic. I’ll investigate, let you know what I find.”

  “Thanks. I’ll stop by occasionally. How do your friends feel about Terence’s coup?”

  “Most of them don’t really give a damn about the home country anymore. If you’re asking if they’d support Felix over the pretender, well, most of them will follow where I lead.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so well respected by your fellow, um, insurgents.”

  “I haven’t shared all my secrets with you,” Rafferty said with a grin. “Let’s just say I command the loyalty of more than a few of my, um, insurgents, here and in Tremontane.”

  “I’ll remember that. I might need a favor someday.”

  “Don’t forget you’re the one who owes me a favor. I intend to collect eventually.”

  “I still say you should have asked for the money. I’m unlikely to ever have anything you want.”

  “You never know.” He waved goodbye as Willow headed back the way she’d come.

  Halfway back to the city center, she saw Amberesh again, lurking about twenty feet behind her. She thought about confronting him, decided she was too tired, and once again amused herself by wandering the streets seemingly at random, memorizing their pattern while confusing the young man. He might be waiting for his moment to attack her, or he might just want to make her nervous—but if that was so, he’d have made himself more visible. Well, he wasn’t very bright, so who knew what he might be up to?