Page 65 of Court of Talons
But why are they here?
The girl behind me nearly knocks me over in her haste, and I hustle out of the room as quickly as we’ve come, past the guards and down the many flights of stairs. When we reemerge into the great hall, however, I dally at the high table as the other girls flee, then grab another jar of wine.
Resolutely, I turn back.
The race back up the steps is short, and the guards at the archway don’t block my path, not when I’m merely carrying another jar of wine. As far as they know, I’ve been ordered to do it. But after I pass them and turn the first corner, I slow my steps to a crawl. As I creep forward, I can hear Fortiss speaking. He’s making a report, I think. I keep the jar with me in case I’m caught and hold its cool stone against my chest to quiet my heart’s thundering.
I’m all the way up to the final archway when Fortiss’s words finally reach me. “All the First House warriors have reported their tallies. The Tournament of Gold will see five more entrants in the coming days, and that’s all. As you have foreseen, Lord Protector, the doomed warriors from the Ninth and Eleventh Houses are dead. The newer delegations from the Fourth and Fifth have been plagued as well. Those houses are down to six warriors apiece.”
I jolt, momentarily frozen in wonder. Foreseen, not commanded? What is this? And, worse…the Eleventh has been struck as well?
I set the wine jug down carefully, silently, deep in the shadowed alcove. Inside Rihad’s chambers, the council erupts inindignation, peppering Fortiss with questions.How can there be these attacks on so many warriors? How have the marauders grown so bold, so quickly?
I edge forward, emboldened by the councilors’ distraction as Rihad lets their outrage swell. A second later, I can peek into the private chamber once more. My attention fixes immediately on the grand fireplace. The flames leap in the grate, and in their flickering light, I see once more the two stout urns of arrows.
And though I can’t be wholly sure, can’t say without a doubt that these truly are arrows in those urns and not simply decorative shafts, in my heart, I know the truth. Rihad is to blame for my brother’s death. Rihad pulled those arrows free and handed them to one of his warrior knights, signing my brother’s death writ as surely as if he’d wielded quill and ink. My brother and apparently other innocent warriors as well.
I stare at the urn half-filled with arrows. Who else will bleed by Rihad’s decree, I wonder…who else will die?
Fortiss continues, “No further damage has been caused to the southern delegations so far, though we’re watching the Third House’s newest company carefully as you’ve requested. I should be out there with them.”
“You had your chance to track down the marauders, Fortiss,” Rihad says dismissively. “Your place is here.”
My brows shoot up at that, but Fortiss doesn’t falter. “Very well, Lord Protector. The bards have confirmed that the Ninth has no additional warrior to send. They’ll retain one warrior alone in the Tournament. The Eleventh, none.”
“Lord Beryl is too old to have another son, and too stupid to bend the old ways.” Rihad leans back in his chair. “The Twelfth?”
“The bard assigned to scout the Twelfth hasn’t yet returned.” Fortiss lifts a hand, drops it. “Lord Orlof’s son is only fourteen, though. He won’t venture forth. There will be no further entrants beyond the southern parties, and they are expected tomorrow,plus the five remaining warriors from the northern houses. The tallies are complete. The north is now fielding thirty warriors, the south twenty-five. We’re lucky that the Tenth survived the attack you feared for them and that I should have stopped, but…” He hesitates, and Rihad narrows his eyes.
“But what?” the Lord Protector demands, and I wonder the same. And more to the point,should have stopped?
Fortiss remains resolute. “Lord Merritt still harbors deep anger over the attack his house sustained. He believes there’s retribution to be had.”
I watch as Rihad’s eyes narrow. “Against whom?”
“He doesn’t say, but he refuses to accept the idea that it was marauders who made the attempt on his life.”
I pin my gaze to Rihad as he considers Fortiss’s words. The Lord Protector’s face is an impenetrable mask, but I can see the fury hidden there. He has the same look my father always wears when he looks at me, a rage too cold to boil over, but nevertheless resting just below the surface. “And what did you say to him when he raised these doubts?”
“I told him he was wrong,” Fortiss says flatly, and my brows shoot up. He did no such thing…did he? I try to remember everything I said and all of Fortiss’s careful words—both to me and to me-as-Merritt, but my mind is a jumble.
“Good.” Rihad nods. “You’ve done well. You’re nearing your redemption.”
If anything, Fortiss’s body seems to stiffen further. “I’m honored to serve.”
He says more, but the roaring in my mind is finally strong enough to drown out anything else. I know the truth of what I’m seeing, finally. The Lord Protector of the First House won’t offer me justice for the death of my brother after all. Because he’s done more thanforeseesuch death, no matter what Fortiss says, what he believes.
Lord Rihad hadcommandedthe attack on Merritt. Possibly even commanded his death. Not the Second House, not marauders. It doesn’t matter what soldier loosed that arrow, it was shot from Rihad’s bow, as sure as if he’d drawn the string back himself. I have no doubt of it anymore.
And not my brother alone, but warriors from other houses as well, some with no more than one warrior to offer, like the Eleventh. What is the point of it? The worst hit seemed to be those houses bordering the Exalted Imperium, but we are buried deep in the mountains, difficult to reach. Our warriors would have posed no threat in the tournament; far from it. The Divhs of the Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Houses are smaller, and our training nonexistent. The threat to the Protectorate was never so great from the Exalted Imperium, after all. It was the right place for the smallest Houses to be stationed.
So why would Rihad have taken such a path…?
My head continues to spin, but some tiny ember of self-protection flares to life as movement stirs in the room beyond. Fortiss is leaving, the councilors all beginning to mill about as well. They’re leaving! I have no time to flee ahead of them. I dart into one of the small antechambers off the corridor, pressing against the wall as the lot of them passes. First Fortiss with his phalanx of guards in attendance. Then, more slowly, achingly slowly, the councilors.
They leave by ones and twos, and I wedge myself more thoroughly into the crevice in the antechamber, grateful for the darkness. Outrage and grief surges up within me at equal turns, until I’m wrung out.
Someone’s still in the room beyond, however, so I can’t leave. The conversation remains animated, Rihad talking to someone I can’t discern. I dare not venture forth, not when I have no idea where the guards are. Better to wait until everything falls silentand the Lord Protector himself has gone. Then, with any luck, the guards will be gone as well, and I can exit safely.