King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2 Page 9

  Dax smiled. “Maybe there aren’t as many as it seems. They could be marching out West Gate, running around to North Gate, and coming past again.”

  The man chuckled. “Well, I’ve seen most of the important organizations in the city. None of the floats in the last hour match the ones in the first part of the parade.”

  Another military group drew close, but instead of the usual guidon with a set of regimental colors, this group was led by men carrying three tall poles, each of which streamed a long black pennant behind. As they got closer, he saw they all wore kilts—all but the commanding officer marching with them, who wore a lancers’ uniform. Ah, the Ugori detachment at last, Dax thought. While the lancers had paraded with an ostentatious show of precision and discipline whether mounted or afoot, the Ugori strolled down the parade route, a rabble taking in the sights. They carried no swords or spears, unlike the lancers, and their shields were slung over their backs.

  The man next to Dax sniffed. “They shouldn’t even let those hooligans march. Thank the Goddess they made them leave their weapons behind.”

  “You don’t believe the Ugori ‘serve their king with pride’?” Dax repeated the phrase the king had used about the regiment in his speech.

  The man looked at Dax and decided he was being ironic. “They’ll serve with ‘pride’ right up to the point they figure out how to convince the rest of their heathen tribes to join in driving the lancers out of their lands.”

  “I understand they are a fractious people,” Dax offered neutrally.

  “They hate each other almost as much as they hate us. That’s the only reason we rule a part of their lands.”

  “Have you been there?”

  “Ugor?” the man replied. “More’s the pity, yes. I served a miserable year up there. It seemed like a century.” He shook his head at the memory. “Finally my wife’s parents raised the money to buy out my service so I could help run their business.” The man paused a moment to wipe sweat from his brow. The day was not particularly hot, but the sun was unrelenting. “They’re a clannish bunch. Always fighting and brawling, but try to arrest one of them for breaking a head in a tavern, and you’d have the whole lot of them down on you.” The man shook his head again. “The king keeps trying to bring some discipline to the Ugori treaty contingent that serves with the lancers. I don’t know how many different men he’s put in command, each ordered to take a firm hand with them.” He gestured to the Ugori troop now almost in front of the reviewing stand. “They still look like a gang of cutthroats even without their weapons.”

  Dax did not say anything more, but from what he had read of the Ugori, forcing their soldiers to march without weapons was a major insult. As such, he was not overly surprised at what happened next. The Ugori marching next to the officer from the lancers turned and shouted a command to the marching men. Dax smiled. It was Markadamous.

  Up to this point, the Ugori had walked along ignoring the efforts of the lancer officer who called cadence. When Markadamous barked a second order, the troop responded smartly and arranged themselves into four perfectly straight lines parallel to the line of march. At his third command, as one, the regiment halted, faced away from the reviewing stand, bent over, and flipped up their kilts. Five hundred pairs of pale-pink buttocks faced toward the king. With a final command, they all turned back and resumed strolling along the parade route.

  An audible gasp rolled through the crowd. Scarlet was in hysterics, as was his companion. However, the man next to Dax scowled. “Those cheeky bastards will pay for that. They can’t insult our king!”

  #

  At the reception that night, the Ugori were all anyone talked about. As before, Dax wandered from conversation to conversation, listening more than talking. Earlier he had watched Scarlet talking to Lady Aylssandra while Prince Ruprek glared at the two of them, but now Scarlet was nowhere to be seen.

  At one point he happened upon the deputy ambassador’s wife standing with two other couples. She was pale and appeared distracted. “Lady Carmodi.” Dax nodded to the woman. “It’s so nice to see you tonight. I have yet to see your husband. Did he accompany you this evening?”

  “Dax. I’m glad to see you.” She stepped away from the others in the group and beckoned him over. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned closer to him and said quietly. “Ras has been taken unexpectedly ill.”

  Dax frowned in concern. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  She moved her drink which she had not touhed to her left hand and dabbed at the corner of one eye with a square of embroidered lace. “I’m afraid it might be.” Her eyes looked red as if she had been crying.

  Dax took her elbow and guided her farther away from the crowd. “Madam, is there anything I can do? I am not a medical man, but I would like to help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you, Dax. You are so kind, and Ras does like working with you.” She appeared to struggle with herself, and finally she whispered, “It’s his bowels. It started last night.”

  A chill ran down Dax’s back, and a hot flicker of dragon anger shivered just below the surface of his thoughts. “Is there blood?” he asked immediately.

  A tear broke away from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. She nodded.

  A wave of dragon bloodlust made his skin prickle, but Dax kept his mind focused. Control. He needed to think. This sounded too much like his experience with Mathilde’s poison to be a coincidence. He took Lady Carmodi by her arm. “Take me to him,” he commanded.

  #

  Dax had visited Carmodi’s home many times, and Lady Carmodi led him directly to the bed chamber where the deputy ambassador lay. Carmodi was on a pallet in a sparsely furnished spare room of their sumptuous residence. Two servants were in attendance, and a faint but definite odor hung in the air. Dax recognized the smell of his father’s sickroom all those years ago.

  Carmodi slept, and Dax knelt at his side. He shook him gently. “Ras? Ras? I need to talk with you.”

  The man’s eyelids fluttered. “Ah, Dax.” He smiled pleasantly, but his voice was weak. “So sorry I couldn’t make the party tonight.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I guess I must have had a bad piece of beef for supper yesterday.”

  Dax did not smile in return. “I need to know what you had to eat or drink in the six hours or so before all this started.”

  “Well, it woke me in the middle of the night.” He gave a fragile chuckle. “Never want to have an experience like that again.” He sighed and closed his eyes.

  Dax prodded. “What did you have to eat last evening? Where did the food come from?”

  “Come from?” Carmodi rolled his head toward Dax and looked at him. “It came from our kitchen. Rosamim has been with us for years.” He paused and took a deep breath. Carmodi was obviously debilitated. Talking was an effort. “Why?”

  “Did you have anything else that evening?” Dax pressed.

  “Well, I did get into a fresh bottle of Borborbi. I felt like a little celebration after the progress we’ve been making the last few days.”

  “Do you remember where the bottle came from?”

  He paused a moment in thought, then called his wife. “Deedee?”

  She leaned closer. “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you remember where that new bottle of Borborbi came from?”

  She thought for a moment. “I think that was the one that came in the bundle with the invitation from the prince.”

  “The prince?”

  Carmodi’s wife looked at Dax. “Well, not the prince directly, of course. He had his household staff do it for him.”

  Carmodi made an impatient gesture at a nearby table. “Well, there’s the bottle itself. I was feeling a little better after you left, so I took a nip to celebrate the king’s anniversary this evening. I certainly didn’t feel like celebrating earlier.”

  Dax felt a chill even as hot dragon rage seethed inside him. “Madam, summon the attendants. We need a glass of milk with crushed charcoal in it.” For a moment t
here was no response. “Quickly!” he snapped, his voice full of command. One of the attendants leaped to obey even before Lady Carmodi could speak.

  Lady Carmodi started to protest. “Charcoal? What he really needs is rest—”

  The deputy ambassador waved her to silence and frowned at Dax. “Are you thinking what I think you are?”

  “It sounds like fenugek. At least that’s what the Kotkel call it.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “I’ve had some experience with it.”

  In a moment the servant was back with a cup of grayish liquid. Dax took it from him and bent down to Carmodi’s pallet. “Help me get him up to drink it,” he said to the servant. “The charcoal will absorb any of it still in his stomach. In a few minutes we need to get him to bring it up again.” Both servants helped him raise the man enough to drink. “Here you go, Ras.” Dax offered the cup. “It’s not an age or vintage I prefer, but it may help.” His tone was light and bantering, but his nerves thrilled with concern. His dragon anger simmered, under control for the moment.

  Once they had finished treating the deputy ambassador, Dax sat on the floor beside him while his wife perched on the bench at the other side, holding his hand and dabbing the sweat on Carmodi’s forehead with a cloth.

  He opened his eyes and looked at Dax. “Now I feel much better,” he said with weak sarcasm. He closed his eyes again.

  “I’m afraid you may be in for another bout of bloody flux before long. After that you’ll need clear broth with a little sea salt for three days. And no more of that Borborbi.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, I would recommend you get rid of any food or drink you’ve received in the last few days. Replace them with items you buy directly from the market. Only use your own servants to do the shopping and food handling.”

  “Dax, tell me what is going on,” Carmodi’s wife demanded.

  “Madam, I suspect your husband was poisoned.”

  “Poisoned!” Eyes wide, she sat up straight. “You’re saying the prince poisoned Ras?”

  “Aylssandra?” mumbled Carmodi quietly.

  “She or one of her party would be my guess,” answered Dax.

  Carmodi sighed weakly. “Well, this will complicate matters, won’t it?” The deputy ambassador shifted on the bed and sighed again from the effort it cost him.

  “We will see.” Dax tried to sound reassuring. He did not share the depth of his worries with Carmodi. The man would have enough work to do to get back on his feet, let alone negotiate with West Landly. Dax’s own bout with the poison had been mild, but he had been young and had gotten rid of enough of the poison to avoid the bloody flux. Carmodi had not. Dax’s father had gone through a number of these “spells,” as they had called them back then. Every time, his father had been weeks abed while he recovered his strength from the ravages of the poison. Carmodi’s team would be lucky to get to West Landly with a viable proposal before late summer. If then.

  Chapter 6

  Dal Nadek stood at attention in the king’s lesser audience hall. He was not comfortable, but none of the sixteen men-at-arms from Lazelby’s Lancers Honor Company were comfortable. They were not there to relax but to guard their king. It was honorable duty, but not enjoyable. A trickle of sweat started down his clean-shaven left cheek. The skin tickled as the drop rolled along, but he willed his skin not to twitch. At least, he thought it was a drop of sweat. It had to be sweat. The season was too early yet for molly bugs.

  He had been staring straight ahead, not looking at anything, but his eyes focused as a party came into the room through the king’s entrance at the rear. He swept his eyes to the group and saw King Kankasi accompanied by several others. Since their attention appeared to be elsewhere, he let his gaze linger. Yes, the king, four attendants, Prince Ruprek, and Lady Aylssandra. His eyes stayed on the lady. Now she is a fine one, he thought. Takes your breath away, that’s for sure. She was cold as ice, though, and would not speak to any of the lowly lancers—unless they were officers.

  The group got right down to business. The king took his throne, at least, the throne in this chamber. The big ceremonial throne was in the Grand Hall, but in this smaller room, the elevated chair dominated the position where the supplicants had to stand. The prince handed the king papers he had been carrying, and the two conferred for a moment before the prince stepped back. The prince nodded to Lady Aylssandra, and she slipped out the back of the room as the king motioned to the lancers stationed at the outer entrance. The outer doors boomed open, and Nadek stamped his left foot with the rest of the soldiers. He brought his spear up to the ready and turned to an angle, facing the throne. Their precision maneuver, performed in perfect unison, left them positioned to meet any threat to the king’s defense—sixteen quintessential lancers with weapons at the ready.

  In reality the shift to the ready-guard position was the sum total of the day’s excitement for Nadek. Usually. He caught the first wafting tendril of a despised odor—cabbages and cream. At least it had been cabbages and cream before it passed through Gollorf’s gullet. Nadek always stood next to Gollorf because they were closely matched in height. These days Nadek wished he had gotten his older brother’s size. What was wrong with Gollorf’s digestion, and why did he eat the stuff? Nadek could not understand why the backside of Gollorf’s mail skirt had not corroded.

  Nadek focused on the king’s audience and breathed through his mouth. Anything to take his mind off the blighting smell. The two advisors from Iron Moor entered the chamber. Nadek had gone a few practice rounds with the smaller man. Scarlet, they called him, and Nadek understood the name. The man was a wizard with a sword. He would leave a trail of blood behind him in battle.

  The other man he had never met, but Scarlet had told him his name was Daxdendraig. He was older and taller than Scarlet, but just about everyone was taller than Scarlet. The scar on the man’s left cheek gave him a hard look. Scarlet had said that while Scarlet might be better with a sword than Daxdendraig, Daxdendraig would find a dozen other ways to beat you. Nadek had known enough fighters to accept Scarlet’s assessment without having any inclination to test it himself. The taller man’s eyes were fastened on the king, but Nadek felt the force of the man’s gaze from where he stood.

  The audience was a strange affair. It had the air of a discipline hearing. He listened closely as the king read aloud from his scroll. “Since the unfortunate illness of our deputy ambassador to West Landly, we are postponing his mission indefinitely to be reassessed and possibly reinstated at a later date. In the meantime, since the services of Commander Daxdendraig and Major Scarlet have been retained for the next eight months, fee and other considerations paid to Iron Moor Academy . . .”

  Nadek recognized contract language when he heard it, but when the king mentioned the Ugori, it caught his interest.

  “Since the above mentioned are also certified combat and leadership instructors,” Kankasi read, “you shall be assigned to command the East Landly Ugori detachment for a period no longer than six months. Since this group has failed to comply with standards of the glorious East Landly Lancers, I expect you to enact any and all discipline procedures necessary to make the Ugori an effective fighting force.” The king rolled up the scroll and handed it to Daxdendraig. “There being no questions,” the king said without waiting for any questions, “you may remove yourselves to your new command.”

  The two men gave a stiff salute to the king and left the audience chamber. Nadek could not tell how the men felt about the king’s assignment, but if it had been him, he would have opted for the lash—maybe forty? —anything but be given the command of that pack of wild dogs. How many good lancer officers had suffered, their careers ruined, by that undisciplined band of savages?

  When the outer door boomed shut, Nadek and the rest of the guard reversed their previous maneuver and resumed their original positions. Talking as they left the room, the king and the prince ignored the men of the honor guard. Their advisors trailed behind. Since no one was looking at the guards, Nadek let hi
s eyes follow them. Outside the king’s entrance, Lady Aylssandra waited for the party. The king nodded to his son and continued on. Ruprek, however, stood talking with the lady. Then again, who wouldn’t, he thought. Ruprek smiled, and the lady appeared pleased as well. She put her arm in his, and they walked away in a different direction than the king.

  The chamber’s attendant entered and closed the door behind him. “Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all for now. You may return to your ready room.”

  Nadek and the rest of the guards maintained their pose until Frowly stepped forward and uttered the command, “Stand down!”

  Relaxation was automatic. The men shuffled toward the concealed doorway leading to their ready station. He fell in beside Gollorf. “Man, if you can’t digest that stuff, why do you eat it?”

  Gollorf gave him a half smile. “What do you mean, ‘can’t digest’ it. It’s just like me mam used to make back on the farm. Everybody eats it. It just gives you a little gas, that’s all.”

  “A little gas? You could gag a dragon, you could.” Nadek shook his head as he walked through the door. Honor or no, he needed to put in for a transfer to an outdoor assignment.

  Chapter 7

  Scarlet sighed regretfully. “Well, at least we know what Lady Aylssandra was up to.” Scarlet and Dax walked together across the bridge over the northern estuary of the East River outside Frohliem City.

  “We know a part of it anyway.” Dax nodded. “Or at least we think we know what she was up to.”

  “Why do you always overthink things? Isn’t it obvious?” Scarlet hitched his pack to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. “She wanted to sink Carmodi’s mission to West Landly.”

  “Well, she certainly did that,” admitted Dax.