Queen of Fire полностью

Lyrna spread her hands. “You are free people and may go where you wish, taking with you payment for service already rendered plus my thanks and friendship.”

The woman thought for a moment, her stance marginally less closed. “Some will leave, some will stay,” she said. “Many, like me, were stolen from their homelands years ago and will wish to return.”

“I will make no effort to prevent them, even provide ships to carry them home when our task is complete.”

“You’ll make an oath to this, in front of all of them?”

“I will.”

The woman nodded. “Come to us this night, I will ensure they listen.” She gave an awkward half bow and went to the tent flap.

“You didn’t give me your name,” Lyrna said.

“Sixty-Three,” the woman replied, a faint grin playing over her lips. “I’ll resume my own when I go home. And don’t worry about the pig farmer, his hogs ate better than ever the day I left.”

• • •

It’s beautiful. She had reined Jet to halt beside Aspect Arlyn and Brother Sollis, waiting with the Sixth Order atop a low hill, all sitting in silent regard of the sprawling city in the distance. The sky was clear today and the unconstrained sun played over the panoply of marble, making it gleam before painting a glittering shine on the waters of the Cut of Lokar to the south. The absurdity of her mission became clear as she took in the myriad towers and countless streets; the destruction of such a city would be the work of years and she doubted even Alornis could conceive of a device capable of birthing a conflagration great enough to bring it down.

“No enemies to report, Highness,” Brother Sollis said. “No sign of any defensive works in the suburbs either. There are some fires raging farther in, large numbers of free folk seen fleeing to the north. The slaves flee in our direction.”

Lyrna nodded. She had ordered the release of the few hundred prisoners captured two days before, having been provided with fulsome descriptions of the dread queen’s intentions. It seems sufficient numbers had fled back to Volar to bring about the desired effect.

“Highness!” It was Brother Ivern, raised up in his saddle and pointing to the south. It took a moment for her to recognise the dark shapes dotting the waters of the Cut. She used the spyglass to pick out the Meldenean battle flags flying from the thicket of masts, all clustered in an arc around the harbour, dozens more visible farther downriver, the unmistakable sleek shape of the Red Falcon among them.

She beckoned to one of the Queen’s Daggers. “Ride to the Battle Lord. He is to proceed to the centre of the city forthwith, destroying any opposing forces he should encounter. Tell him I believe our newly freed subjects would be best kept in reserve.” She turned to Aspect Arlyn. “Aspect. I trust you recall the route to the arena.”

“I do, Highness.”

“So then.” She spurred Jet into a gallop, descending the eastern slope amidst a flurry of crimson petals. “Courtesy requires I greet the Empress, and I should not like to keep her waiting.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Reva

“Where did you get that?”

Reva found herself reaching involuntarily for the bow. The design was unfamiliar, axes and swords in place of the stag and the wolf, but the craftsmanship was unmistakable. A bow of Arren.

“You know this weapon?” Varulek asked her, his eyes shining with the same intensity.

“I once owned its twin, which now rests at the bottom of the ocean. They are heirlooms of my family. Fashioned for my grandfather by the finest bowsmith in Cumbraelin history, lost in the wars that built the Realm.” She met Varulek’s gaze, tightening her grip on the bow. “Where did you get it?”

“It is my family’s charge to serve the gods, and the scripture they left us. As masters of the arena our reach has always been long, and our pockets deep. Volaria is rich in merchants and traders who appreciate the virtues of discretion. Twenty years ago one of them brought this bow to my father. He was well paid for his trouble.”

Reva’s fingers traced over the carvings, recalling the feel of her own bow, the way it had always seemed to fit her so well. Antesh had told her each one had been decorated to reflect the varied interests of her great grandfather. The one she had carried through Alltor had provided evidence of his passion for hunting. This one, it appeared, showed a keen interest in war.

“What would you have me do with this?” she asked Varulek.

“Your spectacle will be a great trial. Jarvek and Livella. I will not lie to you, the chances you might survive it are slender, but should you do so, I can hide this bow in the arena at a place within range of the Empress’s balcony.”

“There are archers on the upper tiers. I’ll be dead before I draw the string.”

“The arena has its own Kuritai, they answer to me. Plus there are some Free Sword mercenaries with grudges to settle, the Empress’s purges have left few families in this city untouched.”

“If I kill her, I will only be loosing what’s inside, and it will surely find a new shell.”