“I detest him!” Treon spat. “With his every action, he thinks to raise himself above all others, yet he was born a commoner.”
“As were you,” Sanouk pointed out.
“Just so,” Treon said, eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s my point. He’s no better than I, yet he believes he is. You told me yourself that he killed a Prythian soldier under his command for attempting to take spoil granted by the king-your own father. Then he had the audacity to sleep with Lord Osaant’s concubine … in the lord’s own bed!”
“The Scorpion is audacious,” Sanouk chuckled. To his mind, such a man could prove invaluable. Of course, such innate boldness could also become troublesome, so he must tread with care in regard to molding Rathe to suit his needs.
“He’s a blithering fool!” Treon retorted, lips flecked with spittle.
“Long have I been away from Onareth, but not so long to have forgotten that few fools march within the ranks of the Ghosts of Ahnok. Fewer still have ever led them. Rathe has a recklessness about him, to be sure. However, I believe he will prove to be an asset to myself and Fortress Hilan.”
Treon’s features molted from purple to ash. “By all the gods, you cannot be serious?”
“You forget yourself,” Sanouk cautioned, growing weary of the captain’s tantrum, and more so of his easy insolence.
“Forgive me, milord,” Treon said, biting off each word as if he were anything but repentant. “May I speak freely?”
Sanouk spread his hands, relenting. Treon had his uses-trustworthiness, an abiding fealty, and his penchant for cruelty being the highest qualities-and as he planned to do with Rathe, Sanouk had carefully harnessed Treon’s valued traits, and would continue to do so, as long as they served his ends.
Treon began pacing again. “I believe he may suspect that the three Maidens of the Lyre came north with his outcasts who, I am sure, he has seen by now, along with the Hilan men.”
“He has no reason to ever suspect the women were brought here,” Sanouk said. “As to the outcasts, Rathe has likely learned by now that you lied about them dying in the battle. Trust that he will suspect you did so as a means of breaking his spirit.”
“So I did, but he will likely seek retribution,” Treon said, looking uncharacteristically anxious. “He behaves as if there is no grudge, but I see it in his eyes.”
“Ah,” Sanouk said in understanding. “Hate does not fuel your anger against him, but fear.”
“I fear no man,” Treon said, gripping his sword hilt as if he meant to demonstrate his considerable prowess with a blade.
“It’s of no matter,” Sanouk said. “So what if he detests you for the deception? He was the captain of the Ghosts of Ahnok, and surely knows such tricks are tools used in tempering recruits. As for the Maidens of the Lyre: I say again, he will never learn their fate.”
“What if one of the outcasts mentions what really happened … or a Hilan man in his cups?”
Lord Sanouk teeth flashed in a predatory grin. “Rest assured, none of them will utter a word-even among themselves-about the women they brought to me.”
“How can you know?”
“Would you agree that there are worse fates than death?” Sanouk countered. Treon nodded slowly. “And so, too, do they know … chiefly because I described a number of particularly gruesome dooms that will befall them, should they betray my trust.”
“What of the girl who escaped?”
“By now, she’s with child or dead-both ends meted out by the plainsmen.” Sanouk waited then, knowing Treon’s next question before it came.
“What did happen to the Maidens?” He shook his head, showing his greater confusion. “I do not understand why you wanted me to capture anyone in the first place. In truth, had the Maidens of the Lyre not crossed our path, I would have been forced to raid a merchant caravan to find what you required.”
Sanouk stood slowly. “What I now show you can never be revealed to another. Stand by my side in this and all future matters, and one day you will rise above a mere captain of this forsaken outpost….” He let that vague promise hang between them, trusting Treon’s lust for authority to fire his imagination. By the glassy light in Treon’s eyes, he was already dreaming of becoming a lord, or more.
When Treon reaffirmed his fealty, Sanouk moved to the hearth, and there extended his hand into the flames. Treon’s eyes flicked between that hand and Sanouk’s face, each passing moment the dismay growing in his eyes. Long after his lord’s hand should have become a blackened bit of meat and bone, Treon lunged forward and caught Sanouk’s arm. Before he could drag him away, Sanouk struck him across the face, driving him to his backside.
“Are you mad?” Treon wailed, scrambling to his feet. “Come away!”
Sanouk withdrew his hand from the licking flames. Smoke rose from the smoldering sleeve, but his skin remained unblemished. “I tell you, Treon, I have discovered a means to escape death in its many forms … and in that lies power to raise thrones and topple them. Yet there is a price, and those women you sent me, and a few others, have paid it. More, still, will pay in the future.”
“Milord?” Treon gasped.
“Continue to serve me faithfully, and I will bestow upon your flesh the gift of invulnerability. And, as I said, one day you may rise above your birth, and don the mantle of high office.” Sanouk smiled at the astounded captain, having no intention of ever fulfilling any of those promises.
“How … how can it be?” Treon asked, covetous of the hidden knowledge.
And so Sanouk confided in the man, if revealing only a little of the truth, just enough to whet his desire. As well, he told of the conditions demanded by Gathul, although without mentioning the god. That was his secret alone.
“… and so that is the real reason I am sending you to Valdar,” Sanouk said, “to collect the prisoners who Mitros has set aside for my purposes.”
Treon’s eyes took on a cruel gleam. “Surely there are worthy choices within your own village? I could name ten scoundrels without thought.”
“Only a blind fool would beggar his own keep by sacrificing those who supply the food.” Sanouk did not admit that besides the two Maidens of the Lyre, Aleena and Undai, he had already abducted others from the village, for fear of failing Gathul.
Thoroughly humbled, Treon asked, “But what of Rathe? He’s canny. If he learns what you are about, he will seek to upset your goals. You must kill him.”
He is persistent, Sanouk thought. “I leave it in your hands to ensure he learns nothing. Besides, as you say, Rathe is a commoner by birth, yet he has tasted glory reserved for men of noble blood. Now that he has been stripped of all honor and prestige, he will do my biding in order to redeem what he has lost.”
“Why should you care to have him at your side?” Treon said, all but whining.
“He’s a born warrior, a weapon to be used. And use him I will, where I see fit.”
“What if he fails in his usefulness … what if he turns on you?” Treon asked. Again, a question lay buried under his words, and was perhaps his only true concern.
“Should he fail,” Lord Sanouk said slowly, tossing his wearisome hound a treat, “I will grant you the privilege of killing him at my command.” In his heart, he suspected he would rather have Rathe as a subject than Treon, but decided to let each man’s fortunes determine which of them would remain standing.
Treon grinned. “Forgive me, milord, but I pray for the day you see his true nature.”
Sanouk dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. In Treon’s eagerness to bring Rathe low, he might well provoke the Scorpion to a fight in which either man might perish. Who, I wonder, will return to Hilan from Valdar?
Chapter 17
“I cannot believe this plan of yours is working so quickly,” Loro said, riding beside Rathe on a treacherous mountain road barely deserving of the name.