Shadow War Part 33

Startled, she turned around and found the priest much too close. His deep-set eyes were gleaming as though at a joke.

He nodded. "Yes, that is the man."

Wondering anew if the priest could read minds, she frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"We have been talking about that man," Sien said smoothly. "He looks very like Prince Tirhin's gladiator. We are curious to see the man more closely."

Now she did not have to pretend she was bewildered, for she truly was. "I do not understand. How could a gladiator be among our guardsmen?"

At her question, the emperor chuckled. Prince Tirhin turned red and swung away from the rest of them.

Elandra frowned. "Are they not drawn from the elite of our fighting forces? Or have I been misled?"

Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she didn't care. She was suspicious of all of them now.

"No, Majesty," said a new voice, one she did not immediately recognize.

Vysal, captain of her guard, walked into the gallery and bowed to them. Wearing his gold cloak, with her coat of arms half-hidden on his sleeve, he walked forward with a faint swagger common to military men.

"All of these candidates are members of the Guard," he said to her.

Kostimon turned around to stare at the man. "Are the men ready?"

"Yes, Majesty," Captain Vysal said respectfully.

Kostimon grunted. "The last time I chose a protector, I had the old one fight the candidates, one at a time. The one who defeated him took his place." He tossed a grin at Hovet, who was looking grim again. "That was Hovet, who has been at my side ever since."

"Is that what you wish?" the captain asked. "Some kind of trial by combat?"

"No," Elandra said quickly before the emperor could reply. "I prefer to talk to the men, one at a time."

The men exchanged glances, and Kostimon scowled.

"Talk!" he said impatiently. "Ela, for Gault's sake. That's no way to choose a protector."

"Why not?" she asked. "If they are all equally good at fighting, and equally intelligent, how am I to choose among them, save one I feel I can trust?"

"Don't forget. Majesty," Sien said smoothly, "that I have the truth-light to determine who you can trust."

"It must be my judgment. No one else's," she said with growing vehemence. "How am I to judge if I cannot see them for myself?"

The prince murmured something too soft for her to hear, but Kostimon heard it. His face darkened.

"Tirhin!" he snapped, and the prince widened his eyes in feigned innocence. "If you cannot be useful, you may leave us," the emperor said.

Tirhin bowed, but did not depart.

Kostimon glared at his son for a long, tense moment before he returned his gaze to Elandra. "Very well," he said grouchily. "If you must, do so. But I do not like it."

She smiled at him. "May Hovet accompany me?"

"I would rather Hovet fought them!" Kostimon snapped.

Something flashed through the protector's eyes, and Elandra felt a moment of pity for him. Hovet was old, a man clearly struggling to maintain his usefulness. How he must fear that any day Kostimon would decide to replace him with a younger, stronger man.

"Please," she said.

"Bah!" Kostimon said, but he gave Hovet a curt nod.

Hovet seemed reluctant to leave him, but he followed Elandra down the steps and into the arena. Her guards trailed behind them.

Picking up her skirts slightly to keep them out of the dirt, she approached the soldiers, who were swiftly lined up by the sergeants.

Not exactly sure how to go about her inspection, Elandra copied her father's manner of stopping before each man and staring at him openly, rudely, almost combatively.

The first man was brawny and built square, with ma.s.sive shoulders like a bull's. He was also hairy and coa.r.s.e, with a thick, brutish face she disliked instantly.

The second man looked competent and well bred, but his face was cold and impa.s.sive. She gestured at one of the sergeants.

"Walk him back and forth, please."

It was as though she were buying a horse, or a slave. There was an insult implied in her request, and the man did not completely succeed in masking his flash of resentment.

Tight-lipped, eyes straight ahead, he strode past her, then came back again and resumed his place in line. He moved well, but he was angry. She did not want a man who detested her standing always at her back.

The third man had curly hair and a square, open face. His eyes twinkled, although he kept his demeanor impa.s.sive according to regulations. He was built strong and straight. He might do very well.

The fourth man was still sweating, although the others were beginning to dry out after their exertions. His gaze shifted warily when she stopped to stare at him. He seemed nervous.

The fifth man towered over her, blond, deeply tanned, and blue-eyed. It was Caelan E'non, the slave who had tried to choke her, who had insulted her, who had pleaded with her. His fancy gold slavery chain no longer hung around his neck. Clean-shaven, his face free of soot and dried mud, his hair sleeked back from his face, he looked handsome today ... too handsome.

She glanced away, biting her lip in consternation. She must not permit herself thoughts like that.

Steeling herself, she met his eyes. They were wary but unafraid. A predator's eyes, she reminded herself, and shivered.

She wanted to ask him how he had changed fortunes so quickly, but she could not without giving away the fact that she had previously met him. That she was not prepared to do. Her questions had to remain unspoken.

She struggled to think of something else. "Sergeant, please have this man walk for me."

Caelan moved obediently, his long limbs graceful and quick, like a panther's. If he felt shamed by her examination, he did not show it. He seemed indifferent, as though long ago he had reconciled himself to certain indignities. Or perhaps as a champion gladiator, he was used to being stared at and judged.

His face was lean and chiseled of feature. She found herself studying the straight line of his brows, the slant of his cheekbones, the firmness of his chin. How fair he was, yet how completely masculine.

Again she had to look away, annoyed with herself.

She turned abruptly and walked away from them, then remembered she had Hovet with her.

Fl.u.s.tered, she started over, picking out the three men who had caught her eye and dismissing the two she disliked. "Hovet?" she asked.

With a respectful nod, he moved past her and walked up to the cold, resentful man. Hovet looked old and a little stooped in comparison to these young soldiers, but he was still tough, still a warrior with more experience under his belt than they would ever know.

"Name?" Hovet asked.

The cold man answered, "Thal Brintel."

"Lord Blintel's son?"

The man's eyes flickered with another muted flash of resentment. "A younger son, sir."

Hovet pursed his lips and moved to the curly-headed man with the twinkling eyes. "Name?"

"Rander Malk," the man replied. His voice was sunny and a.s.sured. He almost smiled as he answered.

"Coastal-born, are you?"

Rander blinked, then did smile. "Aye, I am."

Hovet grunted and moved to the Traulander. He squinted up at the man. "Name?"

"Caelan E'non."

It was said evenly, but with a touch of pride. She saw the unconscious lift of his chin, the squaring of his shoulders, the quirk of defiance at the corner of his mouth. He was probably used to hearing cheers every time his name was mentioned.

Elandra sniffed to herself. She would not compete with her protector for attention.

"Traulander?" Hovet barked.

"Yes."

"What made you leave the games for the service?"

Caelan's attention focused hard on the man. Warily he replied, "A chance to fight for honor rather than entertainment."

The other men stirred slightly, and even Elandra was impressed by the honesty of Caelan's answer. This was a complex man, not easy to handle, and far too good-looking.

She did not trust her own interest, or the way her pulse quickened when she merely stood within a short distance of him. He reminded her of the mysterious lover in her dreams, and she liked that least of all.

"Majesty?" Hovet asked. "Will you have them spar again?"

She hesitated, her gaze sweeping the three candidates. Then she shook her head. "No. Have them cleaned up and brought to the gallery in a few minutes."

Turning her back on them, she left the arena and found she was walking a little too fast, breathing a little too rapidly. Her hands were sweating inside her gloves.

She hurried up the spiral of steps, although there was no need to go so fast, and rejoined her husband with a sense of having returned to refuge.

"Well?" he asked her. "What do you think? You were quick in making the initial cut."

"I must consider."

Kostimon smiled at her indulgently and patted her clenched hand. "Take your time, my dear."

She looked away. She did not want to be patted and patronized. But this was no time to indulge in bad temper.

"Hovet?" the emperor asked. "What did you think of them?"

The protector shrugged. "I could take any of them in a fight."

"Of course," Kostimon agreed, suppressing a smile. "That's not the point, is it?"

Hovet shrugged. "She'll make a good decision."

He stalked away, and Kostimon smiled at Elandra. "Cold weather makes him grouchy. His bones ache, as do mine."

She was immediately concerned. "Are you chilled? Am I taking too long?"

"Hush, my child. Hush," he said, waving away her questions. "It is of no importance. I am in a tolerant mood. We have driven back our enemies, and all is well."

She looked at him, dying to shower him with questions, but he held up his finger.

"No, I will not discuss it. All is well. That is sufficient for you to know."

She settled back in her chair, trying not to be petulant. So the invasion had failed. She could not help glancing at Tirhin, but he was toying morosely with his dagger and did not look up.

Captain Vysal cleared his throat to gain her attention. "The men are here, Majesty."

Kostimon gestured, and Hovet immediately went on the alert, hovering discreetly a short distance away. Led by their stern-faced sergeant, the three candidates filed into the gallery and stood at attention in the same order as before. They now wore crimson tunics and plain breastplates. Their helmets were tucked under their right elbows, with their hands resting on their empty sword scabbards. They had not been permitted to come armed into the presence of the emperor. Their chins jutted at the correct angle, and their eyes were focused on the distance. They looked well trained and ready to serve.

"Your decision, my dear," Kostimon said.

Lord Sien walked forward to hover directly behind her. She felt a chill touch her spine and wished he would move where she could see him.

"Majesty, shall I use the truth-light now?" the priest asked.

Of the three, only Caelan E'non showed the slightest reaction.

She noticed and wondered why he should care.

Tirhin had risen to his feet. He glared at Caelan, who returned his gaze impa.s.sively, without shame, without appeas.e.m.e.nt.

Elandra remembered the Traulander's anguish only a few days ago, when he had been torn between duty and a personal sense of loyalty to the prince.

She needed loyalty. Above all things, she needed that.

Her father had told her to confound the others with her choice, to do the unexpected.

Lord Sien had urged her to pick from any province save that of Gialta.

Prince Tirhin was standing rigidly, his fists clenched at his sides while his father smiled benignly at the entire situation.