The Crown of blood

VII

"Really?" The noble uncrossed his legs and leaned closer, arms on his knees, his penetrating gaze never leaving Anglhan. Standing with his hands clasped in front of him, alone with this powerful man, Anglhan felt like a hare that had been spotted by an eagle and it took all of his composure to meet that hard stare without flinching.

"Yes, Lord, it is true."

"Why should I believe you?"

Shit, thought Anglhan. He was ready for any number of questions: what was Aroisius planning? Why would he renege on their deal? Anglhan hadn't expected his integrity to be doubted. The stranger had a sharp mind, and that worried Anglhan.

"What would I have to gain by lying to you?" Anglhan replied as quickly as he could.

"You might be a rival," said the noble. His eyes never relented for a moment. "Perhaps you hope that I will help you oust Aroisius from power."

Spirits abroad! cursed Anglhan, this man has me figured already. Under that unnerving stare he felt the urge to confess everything, but resisted the temptation. Anglhan plunged on with the lie, ignoring the question.

"Once he has control of Magilnada, Aroisius plans to stop all grain trade between Salphoria and Askhor. He wants to starve the Askhans and cripple the treasury of the Salphorian king."

Had he guessed right? Was Aroisius's belief that this was about the grain trade true? Anglhan suppressed a tremble as he searched the man's face for any sign of his thoughts. There was nothing; Anglhan would have had an easier time trying to discern the ponderings of a statue.

"You have not answered my question," the noble said. "What do you gain by telling me this?"

"I'm a merchant by nature, Lord, and my first thought is always for profit, I admit."

"You want paying for this information?"

"Not at all, Lord! I have associated myself with Aroisius in the hope of getting a cut of the Magilnada taxes. If there's no trade, there's no tax, and no money for me."

A half-truth was always better than an outright lie, Anglhan had always thought. It is far easier to convince another man to believe selfish motivations over selfless acts. It appeared this belief still held true: the Askhan straightened on his stool and smiled.

"What do you propose I should do about this?" he said. "Should I send my men to cut off his head for this act of betrayal? Perhaps I should entrust you with my money to complete this business?"

Anglhan smelt a trap; the stranger's proposal was far too convenient for Anglhan.

"I wouldn't do that, Lord. Without Aroisius, this ragtag army of his will vanish in a few days. Your money could convince the hillmen to stay, but Aroisius has a sway over the rebels and debtors. Neither have any respect for me."

The noble thought about this some more before speaking.

"You are right, Anglhan. Killing Aroisius would favour nobody, and would mean I have wasted a great deal of effort and money."

Anglhan edged forward with a hopeful expression.

"What do you plan to do, Lord?"

The man looked at Anglhan with a flicker of annoyance.

"Why the fuck would I tell you what my plans are?"

Anglhan retreated two steps, shocked. As he recovered his composure, he found himself feeling a mixture of respect and awe for this man. There was a streak of ruthlessness about him that Anglhan admired.

"You do not have to tell me anything, Lord," Anglhan muttered. He looked earnestly at the Askhan. "But if there is something I can do to help, please tell me."

The noble examined his fingernails for a moment as if he had not heard the offer. He looked up sharply at Anglhan, as though an idea had just come to him.

"There is one small thing you can do for me, Anglhan. How well do you remember your journey here?"

Anglhan wrinkled his lip and shrugged.

"Most of it, Lord."

"So you could find your way back to your camp?"

"To the general area, yes."

The noble stood and walked around the foot of the bed to a bronze-bound strongbox against the wall. He lifted the lid, revealing a mess of scrolls and wax tablets. He pulled out a map and tossed it to Anglhan.

"I am sure this would help," the Askhan said with a lopsided smile.

Anglhan looked at the map and at the noble's cruel amusement, realisation sinking in.

"If I am to guide you to our camp, I would like to know something first."

"Yes?" The Askhan showed surprise for the first time.

"Your name, lord. If I am to betray Aroisius, I would like to know the name of my new master."

"Of course you do," said the noble, and for a moment Anglhan thought he was going to be denied an answer. The Askhan stepped across the room with a hand outstretched.

"I am not a lord, so you can forget all of that," he said. "Just call me Urikh."