The Lord of Lies: Strange Threads: Book 2 Read online

  The only way onwards was a corkscrew stairwell, down which he discovered more dark rooms. As he went he poked about in corners and crevices, padded along empty corridors. Once or twice he thought some lump beneath mould might prove to be something useful, and lifted up a sheet of the stuff. Each time clouds of spores sent him hacking, while the space beneath revealed itself empty of anything save more tightly compacted mould. As his coughs echoed loudly through the tower he feared they would be answered by the sound of running footsteps, and yet, each time, nothing.

  Everything had rotted to dust. There was nothing in the Spire.

  Eventually he reached an antechamber at the bottom, dispirited that he had not found a single thing. At least, he supposed, as long as he stayed inside, he was apparently safe from the Unwoven.

  Not from starvation, however.

  The only way out was a small archway. There may have been a door there once, or double doors even, but now it stood permanently open – the breeze that came through was a welcome relief after the musty Spire air. He paused just inside it, peeking out.

  The Spire was built at the top of a rise at the Dale’s northern end. About thirty paces down a slope of patchy earth and grass, the huts began. If the Spire was as abandoned as it seemed, Salarkis found it odd that the Unwoven lived so close to it. If there was something about it that they venerated, or feared, surely they would keep a little distance? Instead, many of them moved about just outside, and all around.

  He receded into the dark to consider his next move.

  A GOOD KING

  As Yalenna strode through Althala Castle, people pressed their backs against walls to get out of her way. Her eyes projected fury in a focused beam and, with her white Priestess’s robe flaring behind her, she seemed to take up the entire corridor.

  Braston, her friend and ally, a force for good in a troubled world, had been murdered for nothing more prosaic than power. Responsibility for the act was shared, in part by the Warden Despirrow, in part by Loppolo, the former king of Althala who Braston had dethroned – and who Yalenna was now on her way to see.

  ‘Yalenna,’ tried Rostigan, struggling to keep up without breaking into a jog, ‘should we not speak on this a little?’

  ‘We’ve spoken. For weeks.’

  During the long night they had recently spent together, when Despirrow had stopped time for longer than he had ever done before, she and Rostigan had had nothing to do but talk. Surprisingly, she had actually grown to enjoy his company. Maybe it was because they had known each other as mortals, before the Spell’s stolen threads had changed them so drastically, and now he seemed more like the man he had once been. She could sometimes forget, for a while, that he had become the Lord of Crows and ground the people of Aorn under his heel.

  ‘And when we spoke,’ he said, ‘you advocated forgiveness for Loppolo, yes?’

  ‘That was before I knew he’d succeeded, when I thought he was but toying with fancies, before I imagined such an insignificant man actually capable of killing Braston.’

  As they approached Loppolo’s quarters, the two guards outside grew tense. They were plainly unsure about what to do if Yalenna tried to storm past them without permission, which, unfortunately for them, was also quite clearly what she intended to do. She helped solve their dilemma by swiping a hand and sending them stumbling away down the corridor to collapse in an undignified heap. Without breaking stride she gestured at the door and sent it crashing inwards.

  Voices from inside rose in alarm as she moved through an antechamber into Loppolo’s entertaining area. The man himself sat on a couch, a plate of biscuits on the low table before him, while a few other nobles were scattered about clutching goblets of wine. All stared at Yalenna with startled expressions.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what’s this? A nice little celebration?’

  ‘Er …’ Loppolo rose. ‘Just some afternoon refreshment.’ He became aware of others watching and tried to hide his nervousness. ‘That aside,’ he said, forcing a haughtier tone, ‘by what right do you enter here unannounced, Priestess? You may be a Warden but, with the passing of Braston, I am King of Althala once again!’

  ‘Sit down.’

  Loppolo oomphed as she took invisible hold of the seat of his pants and slammed them, and him, back onto the couch.

  ‘How dare you!’ This from one fat noble, who she remembered was called Tursa. ‘You have no right –’

  ‘How dare I?’ she said, the ice in her voice stilling his tongue. ‘How dare I? I am not the one who conspired to poison the Lord Braston.’

  Tursa paled, and the others too.

  Yalenna sneered. ‘What a pathetic excuse for a collection of rats. Whose tongue was it, stuck deepest into Loppolo’s ear? Who convinced him that murdering my friend was an excellent plan? Was it you?’

  At her wave Tursa slammed against the wall with a yelp, the goblet in his hand breaking to splatter red wine.

  ‘What was so precious that you stood to gain? A few trifles, a king’s gratitude? A larger slice of land, a bag of cold metal? For such mediocrity you’d gladly risk the safety of Aorn?’

  She advanced on Tursa as she spoke, and though he tried to squirm away, she pinned him fast. He cast a desperate look at Rostigan, as if that would somehow save him.

  ‘You sicken me,’ she said, grabbing his cheeks and squashing them together as she forced his eyes back to hers, ‘with your small, transitive wants. If I hear another squeak out of you, I will tie knots in your guts.’

  May acquaintances never forget your name.

  She released him, turning back to the king.

  ‘Castle threaders will be on their way,’ Loppolo said. ‘If you harm me –’

  ‘Do you deny it, Loppolo? The worst thing is, it wasn’t even your idea –’

  ‘That’s right, it wasn’t!’

  ‘– yet you let it in, allowed it to take root, came to convince yourself it was justified.’

  ‘It was justified! He should not have taken my throne.’

  Yalenna swayed, letting herself feel the truth of Loppolo’s statement. Despite everything, he was right in this. Braston should have known better.

  ‘So you,’ she said, ‘deem yourself a worthy replacement? You will strive to reverse the degradation of the Spell? To hold back Forger and his fearless army, to fight the Unwoven and their monstrous companions, to rid Aorn of them forever? You, little man?’

  ‘The Spell is degrading,’ he answered angrily, ‘because the Wardens came back!’

  ‘No. We came back because the Spell is degrading. You do not even begin to understand the consequences of your actions, do you? I should burst your heart in your royal chest.’

  ‘Yalenna,’ interjected Rostigan sombrely, as if just speaking her name could bring her back from the brink.

  ‘Everyone out!’ she shouted. ‘Everyone save for King Loppolo!’

  For a moment the nobles hovered, unsure whether or not to move. Yalenna growled, and several more goblets exploded in hands. There was a rush from the room, while Loppolo looked stricken at being abandoned.

  ‘I’ll alert the threaders, my king,’ called someone from the threshold, then squealed as Yalenna forcefully reinstated the door back in place.

  She walked around the couch opposite Loppolo and sat down. Absently she picked up a biscuit, crunching it without really tasting it as she collected her thoughts. Then she licked her fingers and smacked her lips.

  Loppolo cast Rostigan a plaintive look. ‘Aren’t you going to help me, Skullrender?’

  Rostigan rested his hands on the back of Yalenna’s couch. ‘Why?’

  ‘You did so once before!’

  ‘That was to help Aorn. What would you have me do? Stick a sword into the Priestess’s back?’

  Loppolo fell silent.

  ‘All right,’ Yalenna said, wiping crumbs from her mouth. ‘Here’s how it goes, Loppolo. Despite my very strong inclination, I am not going to kill you.’

  He sat up a little straighter
at that, for a moment looking ridiculously like an eager dog.

  ‘It may help the overall pattern of things,’ she continued, ‘to see you reinstated, in some small way.’

  ‘Yes, that’s all I want! To do what’s best!’

  ‘Shut up and listen. Here is the condition under which you are spared.’ She leant forward. ‘You will be a good king.’

  Loppolo’s eyes brightened further and he nodded enthusiastically. ‘You have my word, Priestess. I was a good king before, I swear it, and I shall strive to be even better! I will be –’

  ‘You mistake my meaning,’ said Yalenna. ‘Yes, you will be a good king. You will, in fact, be a very good little king, indeed, who does exactly what he’s told.’

  The light went out of Loppolo.

  ‘Ah,’ he said.

  Yalenna unsealed the door and she and Rostigan exited Loppolo’s quarters. Outside they found Jandryn waiting with the guards, and the nobles they had cast out.

  ‘Look,’ said Tursa, ‘here she is, Captain! This woman has taken the king hostage!’

  Jandryn’s eyes remained fixed upon Yalenna. ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘this fellow labours under the misconception I am here to arrest you. I admit that I allowed him to, it being the easiest way to keep him here, and the rest, until discovering what you wish done with them.’

  Tursa gaped, aghast, and Yalenna favoured Jandryn with a smile.

  ‘Thank you, Captain.’

  ‘But this is outrageous!’

  ‘Quiet,’ ordered Jandryn, and his guards moved to stand behind Tursa.

  Jandryn lowered his voice. ‘Is it true, my lady? Did they poison Braston?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jandryn nodded grimly. ‘I’m very sorry.’

  ‘You did all you could. Besides, Despirrow had a hand in events too. I do not really know who shoulders the greater share of blame.’

  ‘If we want Loppolo as king,’ put in Rostigan, ‘we cannot let the truth of what happened spread.’

  Jandryn glanced at him uncertainly. ‘I know you, sir. You are Skullrender. Do you also share my lady’s confidence?’

  Yalenna glanced between the two men uneasily, for Jandryn did not know that Rostigan was also a Warden. What he saw was a famous warrior standing by her side, who she had taken with her into Loppolo’s quarters, who she must therefore trust explicitly. There was something strange in his tone and stance, and with surprise she realised what it was … he was jealous! The reaction caught her totally off guard.

  Rostigan caught it too, for he gave her a knowing little smile, which made Jandryn go even stiffer. Rostigan knew what little there was to know about her and Jandryn for, during the long while that they had spent together waiting for Despirrow to unstop time, they had spoken of many things, and on one occasion in particular, their words had turned to love …

  Sitting in the castle square, Yalenna finally built up the courage to broach a subject that had been gnawing at her, but about which she did not imagine Rostigan would prove forthcoming.

  As it turned out, she was wrong.

  ‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if you would tell me … well … I suppose I shall simply ask it plainly … what was it that made you give up being Karrak?’

  For a long moment Rostigan did not answer, just picked at his bootlaces and stared off at a group of frozen guards.

  ‘A woman,’ he said eventually.

  It was not what she had expected.

  ‘Who was she?’

  ‘I don’t know. I never could bear to ask her name.’ He shook his head. ‘She was brought to my lands as a slave, where I killed her father right in front of her. My men laughed, and maybe I did too. Then a vision came to me … from the Spell, or maybe it was some aftershock of Regret, some curse of his, that lay in waiting.’

  It was him, she thought, though she did not interrupt. His greyness touched us all.

  ‘Whatever it was, I saw my life as it would have been, if not for the change. Saw how, if I had kept on being me, I would have met her, in a different time and place, and known for a moment how far we would have fallen together in love. I learned how happy I would have been. And, despite my empire and riches and soldiers, it was something I knew I could never get back. Perhaps she had been meant for me, I for her, yet I was walking unspun paths.’

  His words gave her a shiver, for they applied to her as well. She, like him, had strayed very far from her place in the world.

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I let her go. Then I fled, leaving everything behind. I thought,’ he smiled grimly, ‘that if I waited long enough, if I became the good man I was supposed to be, that maybe the Spell would give me another like her. Maybe I could slip back into normal patterns of being.’

  He paused, his face softening. ‘It is good to talk with you, Yalenna.’

  ‘And to you too, I must admit – in this incarnation, at least. But,’ she had a sudden thought, ‘what of Tarzi? Is she not the one you search for?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you seem to love each other.’

  ‘In a way. I mean, perhaps, but it’s not the same. There is a fondness there, and certainly her happiness concerns me, yet something is missing. And although I could never bring myself to break her heart, if I was to have my choices over, I would not let our paths cross again. Then I would be free to continue my search, such as it is.’

  Yalenna shook her head. ‘That is very sad. She adores you, I have seen it.’

  ‘Don’t look at her with these words in your head. I do not mean her disrespect, and neither should you pity her. I do love her. Just not as much as she deserves.’

  Yalenna found herself a little annoyed by his attitude. ‘You are arrogant to do her this charity, Rostigan. You think yourself so grand that she could not live without you? You rob her of the chance to be truly loved, because you lack the backbone to withstand her short-term pain.’

  He did not answer with the anger she expected.

  ‘It would be my pain too,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I am arrogant, as you say, but I see no need to hurt her. And if the worst of my crimes these days is not returning love as strongly as it’s given, well … that is a far cry from forcing husbands and wives to fight each other to the death for my amusement, don’t you think?’

  Yalenna remembered who she was talking to, then, and part of her had to agree.

  He gave a slow shrug. ‘Perhaps patience is something I have learned too well. But come,’ his tone became lighter, ‘what about you, Priestess?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. No matter the other changes wrought, the core of you is still flesh and blood. Have any of the castle’s muscular young guards caught your fancy?’

  She must have blushed, for he chortled.

  ‘What, did I actually guess correctly?’

  ‘It’s not polite to pry,’ she said airily.

  ‘Excuse me? Have I not just bared my very soul to you, not to mention endured your judgement upon it?’

  ‘Oh,’ she gave an exasperated sigh, ‘very well. It’s nothing, really.’

  ‘Tell me of this nothing, then.’

  ‘There is one fellow, I suppose, who I find rather … pleasing.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘If you must know, he’s been very good about bringing me news.’

  ‘Well, quite the romantic then. This is Jandryn I take it, the one who says Loppolo is a-plotting?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have seen him, I think. Nice broad shoulders, yes?’

  ‘Stop it. It’s hardly worth mentioning, really. I just think he might … well, he gave me a compliment.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  Yalenna could not bring herself to repeat the actual word he had used – beautiful.

  ‘If you must know, he spoke admiringly of my looks. In what was very much an offhand manner.’

  ‘So he isn’t blind? Another favourable quality in a man.’ Rostigan rose. ‘Come, let us go and find him.’

  ‘What
?’

  ‘I want to look at him again, now that I know he’s earned the eye of the Priestess. You were with him when the freeze came, yes? So take me to him.’

  She rose as if reluctant, but in truth going to look at Jandryn was quite appealing.

  She led Rostigan into the castle and back up to the corridor where the captain stood poised in mid-stride. Candlelight, which did not care that she moved between it and its source, shone off his smooth arms and silver armour. She felt a bit intrusive, circling around him, sizing him up and down this way.

  ‘He’s very serious, isn’t he?’ said Rostigan.

  ‘Of course. He’s a Captain of the Guard who has just learned that Loppolo might poison Braston.’

  Rostigan nodded. ‘And what do you intend to do with him?’

  ‘Do with him? I don’t know. I barely know him.’

  ‘Mmm. We may be troubled beings, Yalenna, but there are still some hours left to us in which we can take reprieve from our burdensome, important tasks.’ He smiled faintly. ‘You should not be afraid to live in those moments.’

  Yalenna didn’t respond.

  To be lucky in love – that was the blessing she had bestowed upon Jandryn, without ever meaning to. Would he be?

  ‘So Loppolo is to be king?’ Jandryn asked quietly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Yalenna. ‘Thus, for the sake of stability, it cannot be known that he played a part in Braston’s murder. We cannot afford civic unrest – we need the army Braston created. I won’t risk it dissolving with despair, or worse, rising up against the castle.’

  ‘We will say,’ put in Rostigan, ‘that Despirrow killed Braston. It is true, more or less.’

  Jandryn looked to Yalenna for confirmation, who nodded. ‘But what of these?’ he gestured at the nobles.

  ‘Leave them to me,’ said Yalenna. She turned to stare hard enough to make the nobles squirm. ‘You will remove yourselves from court immediately. Return to the farmers and honest folk you are supposed to preside over. I never want to see your faces in Althala again.’

  The nobles mumbled to each other. One, a woman wearing too much jewellery, looked mortified by the idea, and opened her mouth to protest, but quickly thought better of it.