Rezkin said, “I have only done what needed to be done.”
“Which is why you will succeed in the task I have set before you. It must be you. The line of succession is clear. When Caydean took the oaths that secured him the Ashaiian throne, he was forced to relinquish his claim to Ferélle. Thresson is as good as dead. You are next in line. Boulis threatens your claim. He is your enemy. You will kill him and claim your rightful place as king and emperor.”
Rezkin said, “You can keep the kingdom. I only want the sword.”
Moldovan grinned. “I am an old man. I have nothing left to lose. I can take the sword with me to the grave. For you, it is all or nothing,”
“First King of Lon Lerésh.”
“He is what?” said Tieran, his voice echoing through the warehouse.
“That is the latest news,” said Captain Jimson. “Rezkin is First King of Lon Lerésh.”
“Did he kill the queen?” said Tieran.
Jimson cleared his throat. “No, Your Grace, he married her.”
Tieran stared at the captain, his heart racing, his mouth hanging open. “That—I cannot—What did you say?”
“It is all over Uthrel,” said Jimson. “Every sailor, every merchant, every crier and relay worker—they all say the same. Queen Erisial claimed him as her husband and gave him the Leréshi army and navy.”
Tieran smacked his forehead. “He is infuriating! He cannot just go and marry the Leréshi queen! What of Cael? What of Ashai? What of Frisha?”
“Ah, well, there is no talk of Frisha, Your Grace.”
“Will you please stop calling me that? That is what people call my father. You may continue to call me Lord Tieran. No, we have been through enough together, you may call me Tieran, if you prefer.”
Jimson shifted. “Yes, Your Grace.
Tieran huffed and kicked a chunk of broken pallet. “What do titles mean anymore? Everyone has gone insane. No one marries the Leréshi queen!” He hung his head and then said, “Is there news of anyone else?”
“Only a bit of talk about a female knight of Cael. Nothing we do not already know.”
An inkling of hope entered his mind. “Does he recognize the marriage?”
“No one seems to know for sure,” said Jimson.
“Well, let us pray to the Maker that he does not.”
Beside him, Mage Morgessa said, “I did not think you were much for praying.”
Tieran said, “If anyone can force a prayer, it is my cousin. Where is he now?”
“That is also a mystery,” said Jimson.
Tieran growled. “We need a relay! This is archaic. Our news is weeks old, at best.” He turned to Mage Morgessa. “Are you sure that none of you has the requisite knowledge or power to create one?”
She gave him a disparaging look. “Lord Tieran, we have discussed this a dozen times. King Rezkin brought the supplies from Serret, but none of us knows how to construct one. Since he knew what items were necessary, he is our best bet.”
Tieran ran his hands down his face. “If he knows, then why did he not build it?”
“Well, because he is not a mage,” she said.
This time he gave her the dubious look.
She raised her hands and said, “I am only telling you what he told me.”
Tieran noticed an anxious young man hovering a few paces behind the mage. He recognized the young man as one of Frisha’s assistants, but he could not remember his name. “You. What do you want?”
The assistant bowed low and then said, “Your Grace, Trademaster Moyl requests your signature on the final proposals for the Aplin wine deal with the merchant’s guild in Uthrel.”
Tieran sighed and waved a hand at the young assistant as he looked at Jimson. “See? Frisha was supposed to be taking care of this. It was her idea, and she is more adept in trade regulations than she claims.” His voice rose as his frustration mounted. “But she ran off to be with Rezkin, and he married the Leréshi Queen!”
A woman was suddenly at his other side. He had not seen her approach. “Your Grace,” said Lady Gadderand. “I am quite good with trade. I have run my house’s affairs for some time since my dear husband passed away. I would be happy to assist—”
Tieran smiled, but he felt no relief in her offer. “Thank you, Lady Gadderand, but that is not necessary. I will handle it.”
The woman barely flinched from the rejection, which only made him more suspicious. She said, “It is most considerate of you to see to these matters, which are far below your station, in Lady Frisha’s stead. It did surprise me when I heard she had gone after him. I mean, she had expressed her concerns—”
“You spoke with her,” said Tieran.
“Oh yes, at length. She was very upset and confused. I tried to offer counsel, but she would not be reasoned with. I cannot imagine what might have made her think to follow him.” She smiled anxiously as she glanced at the others. “Oh, I apologize. My concern for Lady Frisha overtook my sense for a moment. I should not speak of such things in public. Please do keep me in mind if you decide you have more important matters to which you must attend.” Before Tieran could respond, she said, “Did I hear you say that King Rezkin is wed?”
Tam dozed with his back pressed against the hull. Scant light streamed in from the gaps in the planks above, so he could not see the men and women who shared his fate. He could smell them, though. He, and probably everyone else, had long since given up on dignity. There were no privy breaks. Once a day, they were forced to muck their own filth and carry it up to the deck where it was thrown overboard. In the weeks, or months, he had been on the ship, he had considered following the waste into the sea on several occasions. Others had apparently had the same idea, though, and after the first few jumped, the slavers started chaining them in pairs. Apparently, it was much harder to convince a stranger to end his life at the same time as you.
While they were below deck, the chain that linked him to his partner by shackles around their necks, was fed through a loop on the hull. It was impossible to lie down, but they realized that if one of them stood, the other could lean forward enough to hold his head in his hands while resting his elbows on his knees. The major disadvantage was that if the man standing fell over or passed out, the other would be yanked rather hard by the throat. One man had actually died from a crushed airway, and Tam had chided himself for his envy. In truth, he did not want to die, only he was not sure he could stand living any longer. His head throbbed almost constantly, and he suffered from several nosebleeds per day. He noticed, though, that when he sat in the dark with no distractions, his mind settled to give him enough relief to feel his hunger and thirst. Still, he knew that without the help of the healers that he had been promised, he was doomed to a painful demise.
“I think we’ve stopped,” said his partner, Uthey. Uthey had been a mercenary from Gendishen. His company had been wiped out by drauglics, and the slavers had discovered him unconscious on the side of the road. They had decided to capitalize on the find.
Tam roused from his half-dream state. “Stopped?” The hull struck something. The ship rocked, and then it struck again.
“That sounds like a dock,” said Uthey.
Since Uthey was now sitting up, Tam could sit on the bench. “I am filled with both dread and relief. Where do you think they took us?”
“Couldn’t say. I lost track of the days. Maybe the Isle of Sand.”
“It’ll be harder to escape from an island,” said Tam.
Uthey chuckled. “You think to escape? You’ll be dead before you take three steps as a free man.”
“I’m not without skills.”
“And neither are they. If you decide to escape, do it when I am not tied to your neck.”
Tam coughed, feeling a tickle at the back of his throat that he knew was blood, since he did not have enough saliva to wet his tongue. He croaked, “You can die a slave if you want, but someone will come for me.”
“Who? Who will come for you? These men take people no one’ll miss. If they took you, it’s because you were alone.”