The Barbarian strolled across, picked him up one-handed, and dusted off the dirt from the man’s shirtfront. Innocent as the gesture was, it conveyed a world of menace. The patriot flinched. The Barbarian set the prisoner back on his seat, wiped his hands and grinned down at him. His gentleness had frightened the prisoner in a way that his brutality had not. His mouth was shut. At least for a moment.
“You are all going to die,” he said. “It does not matter what you do to me.”
“Every man dies,” said Weasel. “It happens to some of us sooner than others.”
“The Brotherhood will make your death painful,” said the man. Sardec began to understand him: the gaunt face, the unblinking stare, the utter certainty. The man was a fanatic of some sort.
“You know about the Brotherhood, do you?” he said softly.
“I know it’s going to kill you all, starting with your leaders, and not excepting the lowliest private soldier.”
The man was dressed like a member of the lower mercantile classes but he did not speak like one, more like a priest.
“Why do they want to kill us?” Sardec asked. “We are here to help your Queen.”
“Help? You are vultures hoping to gorge on the corpse of Kharadrea. You will find that this time you choke.”
Sardec remembered the Prophet Zarahel. He had belonged to a Brotherhood. And the Lady Asea suspected that behind that Brotherhood was the long arm of Sardea. The Dark Empire had been known to support the secret organisations with gold and weapons and sorcery. He wondered if this man was just another deluded pawn of Sardea’s foreign policy. In any case, a swift trial and hanging now seemed ruled out. Perhaps this man knew something about the Brotherhood of Patriots. Given their apparent involvement in Lord Elakar’s assassination, it seemed only right to report the matter to his superiors. He would need to make things clear when the magistrates got here. In the meantime, he might as well ask a few questions himself.
“Regardless of what you think,” Sardec said, his voice gently mocking, “we are here to help Kathea, and we are here to protect your people and country from the Dark Empire.”
The patriot laughed out loud. There was a horrible strained quality to it, and a complete lack of mirth. He was forcing himself to it. “Keep your lies for the fools who believe them. We know your sort. It’s land you want, Kharadrean land.”
“The Dark Empire will make all you humans slaves. Queen Arielle stands for human freedom.”
“Freedom to starve and labour for a pittance.” There was far too much truth in that for Sardec to disagree. He knew that in Talorea things were bad for humans.
“Freedom to own property. To vote in elections. To not be slaves.”
“To be lapdogs of the Terrarch assembly. If you own property. If you are a common man, it’s as bad as ever.”
“Humans in Talorea are better off than ever they were in Kharadrea. And a thousand times better off than they are in Sardea.” Sardec was surprised to find himself on the defensive here. It was not that he disbelieved what he was saying. He just realised that if he were a human it would have sounded inadequate.
“Things will be better here. We will have equality with Terrarchs. We will have a truly democratic government and laws in front of which everyone is equal.”
Both Weasel and the Barbarian sniggered. That seemed to disturb the patriot more than the earlier violence. “Laugh, lapdogs. Laugh while you can. A new age is coming and you will all be swept away.”
Sardec looked at the man, impressed by his seriousness. There was something more here than simple patriotism, a powerful ideal, strong enough to give this man courage in the face of death and torture. If the Sardeans were funding a movement like this, perhaps they had made a huge miscalculation. They were lighting a bonfire that might prove difficult to put out, and one perhaps to set the whole world alight.
Another more frightening thought occurred to him. Perhaps this had nothing to do with the Sardeans. Perhaps it was simply a mark of a new age, a sign of the times. If so his people were in for a rough time.
The door opened. Captain Quinal entered. With him was a Terrarch in the black uniform and silver mask of a military Magister.
“I understand this man is a member of the Brotherhood,” said Quinal. “I have a few questions to ask him. You and your men may go, Lieutenant.”
Sardec gestured for Weasel and the Barbarian to depart as Quinal and his people came into the room. Almost as soon as he left, screams started.
When Quinal was emerged from the room, he did not look pleased. Sardec raised an eyebrow.
“He died without telling us anything.”
“He had some sort of counter-spell?”
Quinal shook his head. “Some training in resisting magic perhaps, and a very strong will. His heart broke before he could tell us anything.”
“We’d better hope not all of his compatriots are made of the same stuff. Or we will have a lot of trouble.”
“Lieutenant, I think we are already in a lot of trouble.”
Sardec did not disagree.
Chapter Fifteen
Rik looked up at the painting on the wall of the Palace library. It showed Terrarch knights doing battle with Elder World horrors that looked like monstrous worms. Books lined the walls. Scrolls filled niches. Ladders were needed to reach the upper bookshelves. From the point of view of his former profession the books here were worth a fortune. Someday he hoped he might have a chance to work his way through them.
Asea sat down at a reading desk. He and Karim stood over her. “Watch the door, Karim,” Asea said. “Do not let anyone enter unless they come from Lord Azaar himself.”
“As you wish, mistress,” said Karim. He left the room as quietly as he had entered it. Asea spoke the words of a warding spell. The sounds from outside became flat and distant in the now familiar way.
“I think it’s time that you and I talked about some things, Rik.”
“And what would those things be?”
“I think I have solved a murder.”
“I thought the death of Lord Elakar had you baffled.”
“No. I suspect I know who committed it. I suspect I know who killed your mother. I suspect I know who killed the Old Queen Amarielle.”
Rik looked at her opened mouthed. “You have come to a lot of conclusions very quickly. If you know who killed Lord Elakar, don’t you think you should tell Captain Quinal and the High Command?”
“I don’t. This is a matter I wish to resolve myself.” There was something in the way she said it that chilled Rik’s blood. At that moment, she looked every bit the arch-demon that Tamara claimed she was. He forced his voice to calmness.
“Who killed my mother?”
“The same Terrarch who was responsible for the death of Amarielle.”
“And Lord Elakar?”
“No — that was someone else.”
“Now you have me confused.”
“Lord Malkior was present in Sorrow during the period your mother was killed. He was part of an embassy from Sardea. There were more killings — or should I say ritual sacrifices — during the embassy’s visit. They stopped when it left.”
“Why was nothing done?”
“The Queen and her Parliament did not want war with the Dark Empire just then. What could be done? It might have been coincidence or an attempt to discredit the embassy.”
“They did not want war just then?”
“More preparations were needed. Our army needed to be built up.”
“This war has been a long time coming, Milady.”
“There’s no need to sound so disapproving. Our forces had been allowed to run down in the long peace following the Treaty of Oslande. We could not afford a war with both Valon and Sardea which is what would have happened then.”
“You are saying that the Chancellor of Sardea is a black sorcerer and a multiple murderer,” he said.