Daughter Of The Lioness - Trickster's Choice Part 18

All three were lean and muscular, with swords in plain sheaths that had seen hard use.

The standout was the woman, but Aly guessed she was meant to divert attention from the men. She wore her blazing red hair coiled and pinned at the back of her head. She sat beside the driver of one of the other wagons, looking around at the scenery. Her eyes, as restless as those of the other a.s.sa.s.sins, were blue.

Her dress almost matched her eyes in color. Despite the pampered smoothness of her skin, the woman had strong arms and capable hands.

Aly turned her gaze to Gurhart, who ran the caravan. He was part raka and a decent enough fellow. Over his other visits Aly had been careful to talk to him, presenting herself to him and his people as an eager young girl who desired news of the world beyond Tanair. Gurhart, flattered by her attention, had told her more than regular news. Aly knew the names of his wife and children, how much he had made the year before, and how often he'd come to Tanair before the Balitangs made it worth his trouble. From those talks Aly knew Gurhart was no more able to hide his troubles than three-year-old Elsren. She saw no discomfort on the merchant's round face now, no unease or suspicion. That didn't necessarily mean the new members of the caravan were all right, she told herself. It might just mean that Gurhart had been short of hands, and these five had shown up. She wondered how many of Gurhart's original crew of workers had vanished before he'd hired these hard folk.

Aly watched as the caravan pa.s.sed, then slithered back down her rock. Only Junai waited at the bottom. The young raka had left to spread the word of the caravan's arrival.

"Dish out more stew, Mama, there's guests for supper," Aly told Junai. She returned to Visda and asked her to take charge of the goats, then set off toward Tanair at a trot. She had not gone far when the sound of hooves greeted her. One of Lokeij's stable boys approached on horseback. He led the mare Aly had ridden before, the chestnut called Cinnamon.

Remembering she was not supposed to ride well, Aly clumsily pulled herself into the saddle and turned Cinnamon toward the castle, with a word of thanks for the boy. The caravan overtook her at the village gate. Aly dismounted and led Cinnamon through the village with a word of greeting for those merchants she knew from their previous visits. From their responses, Aly gathered that word had reached them that the castle was full to the rafters. The merchants were unhappy at the prospect of having to find lodging in the village, but they were used to roughing it. So much the better, Aly thought as she walked through the castle's outer gate. Fewer people would spent the night inside the castle's walls, which meant fewer people for her to watch. Those five newcomers would be enough of a problem.

Lokeij awaited Aly by the stable, a look of concern on his old monkey's face, contradicted by his gaudy red sarong. He nodded toward the gate to the inner courtyard. Gurhart was there with two wagonloads of goods, talking to the d.u.c.h.ess, Chenaol, and Ulasim.

Aly walked into the stable leading the mare. When Lokeij joined her, she said, "a.s.sa.s.sins came with the merchants this time. You'll need to alert the others.

Where's our family?"

"The ladies play chess with the prince and His Grace," Lokeij replied instantly, meaning Dove and Sarai. "The little ones are having baths in the kitchen. You saw Her Grace." He trotted out of the stable.

Aly unsaddled Cinnamon and groomed her. Her hands trembled slightly, but that was probably just the excitement that came with a real challenge. She had done this sort of thing before, twice, with her Da when killers had gotten into a place he was guarding. The nice thing about Tanair Castle was its lack of s.p.a.ce.

It limited the ways that a.s.sa.s.sins, trained to attack in the dark while the household slept, could approach their targets.

Ulasim and Fesgao arrived together with Lokeij. Ulasim checked to make sure no one could see or hear them in the depths of the stable, then nodded to Aly.

"What do you have?" he asked.

Aly leaned against the stable wall. "Five strangers are with them," she replied quietly. "They look like professional a.s.sa.s.sins to me. By now, they'll have smuggled themselves into the castle on those wagons I just saw outside the keep.

Either that or they might be hiding in wait for an ally who's inside to let them in after dark." She described the probable a.s.sa.s.sins in detail adding: "I worry that there could be more hidden in the carts, and that maybe they turned some of the regular merchants to their side. Can your people search the wagons and take anyone we don't know? Just to be on the safe side."

"You speak as if we will not find them." Fesgao was the quietest of the four raka leaders, but Aly had come to value the few things he chose to say. Did he value her in the same manner? she wondered.

"These are professionals," Aly replied. "The first thing they learn is to get away from their transport, in case some bright-eyed young thing like me suspects something isn't right."

"Then how do you suggest we catch them?" asked Ulasim. He looked down at Aly, his dark eyes impossible to read. "Is it the plan we discussed? Move the family to a safe place after supper, and set our people where these murderers will attack at night?"

Aly nodded. It was a good plan, arrived at by mutual agreement among the raka conspirators, with only the occasional nudge or suggestion from her. Its success depended on the loyalty of the raka, but the Balitangs-at least their two elder daughters-had that, and none of the conspirators wanted anyone to realize their interest lay solely with the older girls.

"I'm afraid we'll have to include the prince, too. I'msorry, " Aly said as the three rakas' eyes blazed. "But they might be here just for him, and not care who else gets killed in the meantime. I'd as soon not risk it."

Lokeij spat on the stable floor to show his disdain for the prince. "What of the prince's servants?" he wanted to know. "We didn't account for them when we planned this."

Aly looked at Ulasim, their general, to see what he would decide. "Urge the prince's servants out to the barracks for a nighttime drink and game of dice,"

Ulasim said after a moment's thought. "We can guard them in there safely enough.

Our extra fighters will go on the fourth floor in case the a.s.sa.s.sins try to come down from the roof." He looked at Aly. "Unless we should guard the roof now?"

Fesgao answered, "They mustn't think we know they're here, in case there are more we haven't identified. We must act normal. Usually we never go up on the roof."

"If we leave the roof and the servants' stairs open, we'll control their main line of attack. We can draw them all out right away," Aly added. "We don't want to spend the rest of the summer jumping because one got away and is waiting to finish the job."

"And we don't want any escaping to carry word to Rajmuat," said Lokeij. "If that's who sent them."

He looked at Aly, who shrugged. "We should know when we question them," she told him.

"We can do this," Ulasim said firmly. "We get our fighters in place while the family and the prince dine. Then we pick these gutless shadows up like rats in a trap, so they'll never trouble us again. The plan we have is a good one. Let's set it in motion."

The three men walked off to do their parts of the plans they had thrashed out with Chenaol and Aly over their many nighttime talks. Aly watched them go. She had faith in them, she realized. They hadn't been raised to protect themselves and those in their care as she had been, but she felt good knowing they were on her side. She wished Da had fifty like them in his service.

When Aly pa.s.sed through the kitchen, Chenaol nodded to her. Her staff was busy with supper preparations. Looking around, Aly noted there were fewer knives in sight than usual. She suspected she would find them on the persons of those servants and slaves approved by the four raka conspirators. When Chenaol herself tossed Aly a roll to nibble, Aly saw the cook's tunic go flat against a cleaver-like shape tucked into the woman's waistband.

A stroll across the courtyard showed Aly a selection of raka men and women drifting into the stable. She recognized a number of off-duty men-at-arms, including the six former bandits who had been captured on the road. Others were villagers. Some were raka she had never met, part of Ulasim's extended force.

Aly slipped around behind the stable and entered through a back door. Lokeij stood lookout there.

Both of them listened as Fesgao gave instructions to the new arrivals as they lounged around the horses' stalls. ". . .quiet, understand? Stop by the kitchen door. Chenaol has things for you to carry, to hide weapons and give you a reason for being there. Go up the stairs a few at a time before and during supper.

Don't poke along, but don't rush."

"What of Veron and the men on guard duty? Shouldn't they be told?" someone asked.

"They'll be at the gates. Let them stay there in case this is only part of the attack," Fesgao replied. "We'll keep this just among us for now."

Aly nodded approval to Lokeij, who winked. The raka leaders had trained their people well. The old man followed her outside. "Too bad you don't have this organization in Raj- muat," she whispered to Lokeij.

The old man raised his thin, hard brows. "But we shall," he replied, his voice quiet. "We guarded our ladies-the girls and Sarugani-in that sinkhole for longer than you've been alive, Kyprioth's mouse. The bigger part of us went to other houses when we were exiled. Our folk recruit more people in the city even now.

They know we will come again, and they mean us to have help when we do."

Aly smiled. "I don't know why the G.o.d bothered with me," she told Lokeij.

"Because you have the crooked eye, and the memory, and you can talk to the luarin," Lokeij said promptly. "We see four or five paths where you see twenty.

Will you go with our family tonight?"

Aly nodded. "I won't be of any use in a fight among all those warriors," she replied. "But I'd like to have at least one a.s.sa.s.sin alive at the end, if you can manage."

Lokeij nodded. "One day you have to tell us who you were before slavery. Why it is you are so knowing, so young."

Aly shrugged. "I'm the G.o.d's chosen," she reminded him.

"True," Lokeij replied, "but the G.o.ds never build without a foundation. A crooked eye like yours takes years of work." He glanced at Aly's clothes. "Were I you, I'd clean up. You pour the wine tonight."

Aly looked down at herself. Her tunic was streaked with horse sweat. She grimaced and ran to find her spare clothes.

At supper, Aly watched everyone from her position on the dais. She couldn't tell whether the raka members of the household were excited or nervous. Their faces, ranging in color from dark ivory to coppery brown, looked just as stoic as they always had. Centuries of luarin rule had taught the native islanders iron control. The prince's servants, and the rest of the household behaved normally, chattering and eating heartily.

In the shadows by the main stair, Aly glimpsed movement, but only because she looked for it. A few raka used that route to the upper stories. Most relied on the servants' stair behind the stone veil of the wall. By the end of the meal every raka fighter who did not eat with the family was in position.

Aly saw no reason to alarm the Balitangs until they'd finished supper. They were halfway through the dessert sweets and cheeses when Aly murmured to the duke and d.u.c.h.ess, "We must place you in the study opposite your present quarters, for your safety. If you can gather the children and the prince and go there, acting as if you are engaged in some leisure activity, I would appreciate it. No one must think there's anything out of the ordinary."

The duke gave the tiniest of nods while the d.u.c.h.ess looked down. As Aly returned the wine to the kitchen, she heard the d.u.c.h.ess say gaily, "I have a game we haven't played yet. My dears? Your Highness? It's one that you won't have played in quite this fashion."

I love that woman, Aly thought as she set down the pitcher. She is never at a loss.

Chenaol joined Aly. "My girls know their places. Ulasim has men on the exits.

Come down here once the fighting's done, and I'll have your supper ready."

Aly grinned at her. "You have a nice idea of what's important," she told the cook. "Try not to kill any more of them than necessary. They have to be questioned."

Chenaol drew the cleaver from her waistband as Aly walked back into the great hall. The kitchen servants were on their way to Chenaol as the tables emptied.

No one was interested in music that night. Aly suspected that everyone felt tension in the air, even if they didn't know the reason for it.

Aly climbed the stairs, searching the shadows for shapes that didn't belong. By now she could have found her way through any part of the keep in pitch darkness.

Tonight she saw nothing unusual. She hadn't expected to. The enemy might use the servants' stair or the fifth-floor storeroom as a hiding place from which to launch their attack, but that meant the risk of someone from the household tripping over them before it was time to strike. Aly expected the attack to come from the roof. She would use that route in the a.s.sa.s.sins' place. How many people looked up? If her instinct was right, they'd be there now, waiting for lights to go out below, knowing the shutters would be left open for cool night air to flow through the keep. Once the household seemed to be abed, the a.s.sa.s.sins would use ropes to climb down the tower's sides and swing into their prey's bedrooms.

Aly reached the third-floor landing and the family's present bedrooms. By now the enemy would know that the prince had the ducal rooms and the Balitangs occupied the third floor. Since they were obviously professionals, Aly knew they would know their targets' sleeping arrangements well before their attack. Ulasim stood by the stairway, a long dagger in each hand.

No one wanted to speak more than necessary, in case the a.s.sa.s.sins were already inside the keep. Ulasim pointed to the floor, jerked a thumb at the ceiling, and nodded. Everything was ready on the second and fourth floors. Fesgao lounged in the shadows near the door to the family's sleeping quarters. He nodded, too: fighters were hidden inside. Aly pointed to the door of the small room by the stair that served as the children's tiny schoolroom, and raised her brows.

Ulasim nodded. The family and the prince were there. Carefully Aly opened the door just enough to slip inside.

"Why isshe here?" Bronau demanded softly.

"She is as useful in a fight as I am, Your Highness," Lokeij retorted. "We want her out of harm's way." He clutched a double-headed axe in his gnarled hands.

Aly expected the old raka to fall over with its weight, but he stood easily, balanced on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. Behind him stood the healer Rihani, her arms around Elsren and Petranne. They stared silently at everyone. Elsren sucked his thumb.

Lokeij was not the only armed man in the room. Both the duke and the prince held drawn swords. "I don't like hiding like this," growled Bronau. "I'd rather fight them myself."

"And leave my wife and children protected only by Lokeij?" asked Mequen. "It's not as satisfying as engaging the enemy in the field, old friend, but it's important to me."

"I could defendmyself if I had a sword," Sarai reminded the adults, her voice sharp.

Bronau smiled at her. "I would love to see you with a sword in hand," he said.

It was clear he thought she would make an adorable picture rather than a combat-ready one. "With a gold hilt and gold armor to match. You could be one of the lady knights of old at the Midwinter Masquerade."

"Andyou haven't had a sword in your hand in four years," murmured Dove.

"Whose fault is that?" snapped the older girl, darting a sharp glance at her stepmother.

Aly crouched by the keyhole in the door. Outside she heard the first signs of trouble. "Hush!" she ordered as she put her ear to the opening.

"Mequen, you are indulgent of your slaves, but surely you won't let this one give orders as if she were one of us!" exclaimed Bronau, outraged.

The d.u.c.h.ess held her finger to her lips to silence him.

Aly put an eye to the keyhole, mentally adjusted her power, and exercised her Sight to see as much of the story as she could. Fesgao was gone from his post at the bedroom door. Thumps came from the family's bedroom, and a cry from overhead. She tried to see the stairs, but the keyhole limited her field of vision to the joining of step and floor, something her Sight could not change.

Just once she wished she could scry in a mirror or crystal like her mother and Uncle Numair, so she could know what was going on.

From the stairwell Aly heard a scream. Behind her someone gasped-Petranne or Elsren. Ulasim came into view at the foot of the stair, a killer's descending sword trapped between his long, crossed knives. He twisted away to free his weapons; as the a.s.sa.s.sin's sword dropped, Ulasim lunged in with a backhanded dagger swipe. Aly saw blood, enough to tell her that Ulasim had cut the a.s.sa.s.sin's throat. The a.s.sa.s.sin tumbled limply down the stairs past the raka footman. Ulasim checked to make sure his opponent was dead, then ran upstairs once more.

The fighting seemed to last forever, though Aly knew that it was her own worry and impatience that stretched the pa.s.sing time. She sent up prayers to Mithros for the Balitang servants, along with frequent reminders to Kyprioth that if she was to do as he wished, he would have to keep the people who worked with her alive. Finally, the noise from the upper floors and across the hall faded. There was a long silence. Then Fesgao emerged from the family's bedchamber, his clothes slashed in two places, a b.l.o.o.d.y longsword weighing down his left arm.

Behind him came the raka who had been hidden in the bedroom. Ulasim walked onto the floor from the direction of the stairs, his long, sweat-soaked hair hanging in his face. Three more Balitang fighters moved into view, carrying bodies wrapped in sheets over their shoulders. They laid them on the floor.

Ulasim said huskily, "We think we have them all."

Aly let the prince and the duke out first, then the d.u.c.h.ess, and Sarai. She glanced at Lokeij, then nodded toward Dove, Rihani, Petranne, and Elsren. He nodded in reply, indicating he would guard them until they were certain the keep had been scoured of the enemy.

"Until we're sure," Aly told Dove. The girl sighed and took a seat. Rihani's smile was bright with grat.i.tude. Aly closed the door on her way out, ignoring Petranne's cry of indignation.

"They came in on ropes, through the windows, Highness, Your Graces," Ulasim was telling the n.o.bles. "They were on the roof, as we guessed they might be."

"Why didn't you take them on the roof?" demanded Bronau as he and the duke sheathed their swords. "You would have spared us some anxiety!"

"We have but one door to the roof. Only one may go through at a time, Your Highness," Fesgao said with a properly respectful bow. "They could have picked us off as they liked, and we could not be certain all of them were there. As it happens, they were not. My lads report there are still others outside." He looked at the duke and the d.u.c.h.ess. "You appear to have been their targets.

Perhaps the children, too, since they sleep here as well."

There was a clatter on the stair. Veron, with the men-at-arms who had been on guard duty, charged up, swords bared. Ulasim and Fesgao put themselves between the n.o.bles and the men-at-arms.

"Your Grace, I heard fighting," the sergeant panted, ignoring the two raka between him and his master.

Mequen raised a hand palm out, a calming gesture. "Our servants defended us, Veron. Apparently a.s.sa.s.sins were smuggled into the keep during the day, or rather, they smuggled themselves."

"I feared it was bandits," the sergeant replied. He looked around at the bodies, then knelt and uncovered a face. "I'll have a word with my boys, letting these get through the inner gate," he promised. He looked up at the duke. "With your permission, I'd like to search the keep, top to bottom."

"Tell me something first," asked Ulasim, his face stern. "Tell me you did not know of this attempt."

Veron's jaw muscles clenched, then relaxed. When he replied, he spoke to Mequen.

"No, Your Grace," he replied quietly. "I did not know of it."

Ulasim glanced at Aly, who gave the tiniest of nods. Veron was telling the truth; her Sight confirmed it, though she would tell the others that he showed none of the signs of a liar.

"What is this?" Mequen demanded, his voice sharp. "Why should Veron know a.s.sa.s.sins had come? You make it sound as if he would have helped them."

Ulasim and Fesago regarded Veron with unflinching eyes. The sergeant flushed beet-red, hesitated, then knelt, his eyes on the duke. "Your Grace, forgive me,"