The Lord of Frake's Peak (The Bastard Cadre Book 4) Read online

  Focus.

  Fahlim had won Obdurin some thinking time, no doubt so Obdurin could turn the situation to their favor, but instead, Obdurin would use the time to answer the question. Which path offers the best chance for peace?

  Focus.

  Is peace possible if Warwick has Rhysin’s heart?

  Sorros had convinced Obdurin that morning that he could be trusted and that he understood Obdurin’s intent. He’d said nothing to reveal Obdurin’s plans to the other people who had been present, but there had been a very particular pattern to his words, a pattern that only Obdurin could recognize, and he was convinced the immortal’s desires were aligned with his own. Sorros and Vincent are working in my favor then, he told himself.

  Obdurin remembered the boy the godslayers had sent, Calini, who had arrived in Frake’s Peak two years ago with a knife intended for Obdurin’s heart. The boy could have succeeded, but at the last instant, he’d hesitated. Obdurin had tried to learn everything he could about Calini but he had lived as a ghost, Obdurin didn’t even know if that was his real name. He’d worn an earpiece, invisible until the body had been searched after his death. Sorros claimed, It was I who whispered in Calini’s ear at the end.

  Obdurin cut off that line of thought. He would examine it later. If there was a later. Focus! Peace? Obdurin started pacing again and looked for another direction to come at the question. Was I right to believe I can reshape the world?

  14

  Unnatural Allies

  Sorros and Vincent found themselves in a lavishly decorated apartment with a wide bed on a raised platform to the right, and a sitting area with plush couches in front of a wall-mounted screen with a drinks cabinet to the left. In front of them, across an open space, was a dining area with a polished white table and places for six people. A man in his underwear sat at the table. His chair had been turned to face the wall where Sorros and Vincent stood as though he’d been waiting for them.

  Medical supplies littered the table. A thick, black leather book had been pushed off to one side.

  The man’s right leg had been splinted and was stretched out before him. Bruises covered his body like a heat map. Beneath his injuries, he looked fit and lean. There was a skull brand over his heart. A twisted scar circumnavigated his neck. There were seven medical strips on his face, but it was still swollen and purple where Ethan had beaten him.

  “Explain,” Vincent demanded of Sorros.

  Sorros ignored Vincent. He pointed at Valan and spoke with a catch in his voice, “Why do you have a skull over your heart?”

  “I was convicted of a crime a long time ago,” Valan replied calmly.

  “That’s Omar’s mark, the Dead God,” Sorros said.

  “Falsely convicted,” Valan said. “What took you so long?”

  Sorros’s eyes were narrower now, and Vincent thought, Finally, emotion from an immortal.

  “Explain why we’re here,” Vincent told Sorros.

  “In a minute,” Sorros said. He asked Valan, “How old are you?”

  “That again?” Valan applied another row of medical strips to his ribs.

  “Omar has only been the Dead God for five hundred years.”

  “I know my history,” Valan snapped.

  “You must have been branded before you became immortal for the scar to have taken.”

  “Must I?”

  “That makes you five or six centuries old, but you’re older than that...” Sorros trailed off, then repeated the question Fahlim had asked earlier, “What are you?”

  Vincent let out a long breath as his strength drained away. It had been a long night and day. Why am I doing any of this? He asked himself. Why am I here?

  “Goodbye.” Vincent turned to skim through the wall, but Sorros caught his arm.

  “Wait.”

  Vincent was suddenly too tired to fight. He was too tired to care about the intrigue or the schemes or the future. Obdurin and everybody else could play their games. Vincent had been wrong to trust Obdurin so completely. He hadn’t let Vincent live eight years ago out of a sense of fairness or justice. He’d done it because the day might come when he could use Vincent.

  “Wait. Please. We are trying to make things better,” Sorros said. He continued silently, I don’t trust Valan either, but he’s useful.

  “Better?” Vincent wasn’t sure what better would look like, but he nodded.

  “What took you so long?” Valan had a nutri-vial in one hand. He removed the vial in his leg and dropped it by his feet, then pushed the new vial into position.

  “We’ve got plenty of time,” Sorros said.

  Valan gritted his teeth and blew out a labored breath between his teeth. “Really? Then you have already convinced Obdurin not to go ahead with Rarick’s ridiculous proposition?”

  “Not yet. We’ve got time,” Sorros said.

  “He doesn’t need convincing,” Vincent said.

  “He has told you he won’t accept?” Valan asked.

  “He didn’t need to,” Vincent said.

  “What did he say?” Valan asked.

  “He didn’t say anything,” Vincent said.

  “That’s because he’s considering it,” Valan said. “Rhysin wants him to consider it. The Gods Rhysin, Turin, and Maiten are considering an alliance. Obdurin can’t help but consider the suggestion because Rhysin is considering it. If you doubt that you’re a fool.”

  Valan reached for a pack of black plastic medical strips. He opened the packet with his teeth and shook the strips out onto the table. He applied one and then another to his left leg.

  “You’re a mess,” Sorros said.

  “It was necessary.”

  “Necessary?” Vincent asked. He almost laughed, these people were unbelievable. “You mean it was part of the plan? And Ethan went along with it?”

  “No. I had to improvise when Obdurin revealed our relationship. Ethan is so contrary he would never go along with any plan, not even one that let him vent on me like that. If only everything were as simple as provoking Ethan Godkin.”

  “Why was it necessary?” Vincent asked.

  “Weren’t you listening?” Valan snapped. To Sorros he said, “Next time, let the driver wait outside.”

  “Explain it to me, or the driver will leave now,” Vincent said, his weariness giving way to anger.

  Valan glowered at Vincent, then said, “It was necessary because Obdurin told Warwick that I’m his father. We’ll have to kill Warwick of course, but there is a chance even he might think ahead and relay this information to his brother, and if he does, Rarick will need to see a display of trust. The recording of Ethan Godkin beating me and the evidence of my injuries should suffice.”

  “You told Warwick that his brother knows about your relationship with Obdurin,” Vincent said.

  Valan slammed his fist down onto the tabletop next to him and shouted, “Of course I did!”

  In a calm tone, Sorros said, “You should have told Rarick about your connection to Obdurin.”

  Valan fumbled through a case of nutri-vials until he found the one he wanted. “How do you think he would have taken that? He would have thrown me to his pale angels, and even I do not want to go through that torment.”

  Valan removed the vial in his leg and inserted the new one. The old nutri-port vial rolled across the floor. Vincent glanced down. It was a medical vial used to deploy internal medical nanos.

  “I might be able to confuse Rarick’s moronic brother, but Rarick’s paranoia is far too strong for that.”

  Vincent picked up the nutri-vial and asked, “What are you doing?”

  Valan glanced at him but said nothing.

  “Marlan must have healers,” Vincent said.

  Valan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. Sorros and Vincent watched him in silence.

  Vincent spoke to Sorros through the subvocal pickup. He’s not stable.

  He’s in a lot of pain. He has more self-control than almost anybody I know. Watch.


  Vincent was surprised. You admire him?

  That doesn’t mean I trust him.

  Valan’s shoulders and chest rose with each deep inhalation. He flinched with the first breath and then again with the second, but the third breath was controlled and even. He took two more breaths and opened his eyes.

  “Lord Marlan has excellent healers,” Valan’s voice was calm now. “But if I go back to Damar and report that we failed and Warwick is dead, Rarick will need to see proof that I tried. If I get healed before I go back, he’ll think the footage is fake.”

  “Why do this at all?” Vincent asked. “If you want Warwick dead, you could have killed him in that room.”

  “Warwick is irrelevant,” Valan said. “Rarick is the real target. I’ve been in Damar for years. I run his intelligence, and I can’t even get close to him. Obdurin’s plan offers us the best chance of getting rid of Rarick. Besides, if I’d killed Warwick, Marlan would have me executed or sent to Rarick’s torturers.”

  “Marlan doesn’t seem happy about this situation,” Vincent said.

  “He isn’t happy,” Valan said with a note of irritation creeping back into his voice. “Nobody here is happy, but he made an agreement and Marlan is nothing if not a slave to his word.”

  “So why are you doing this? Why are you trying to get rid of Rarick?”

  Valan applied more medical strips to his ribs on his left side and winced, “Because Rarick needs to be stopped.”

  “Rarick or Obdurin?” Vincent asked.

  “Obdurin is my son,” Valan said. He looked up from his work and met Vincent’s eyes. “You’re Vincent d’Rhyne?”

  “You already know I am.”

  “A word of advice, Vincent. Don’t lecture those who are brave enough to take action where you would not.”

  Vincent clenched his fist and took an angry step forward.

  Valan chuckled. “Do you think beating me will achieve anything? Didn’t Ethan Godkin prove the futility of that?”

  Vincent unclenched his fists. “It might prove cathartic.”

  Valan grinned at this answer. “Don’t count on it. I doubt you have it in you anyway. You stood by and watched, nay, served and assisted your father as he tortured the people of Rhyne. Even wounded I am too dangerous for the likes of you.”

  “I did no such thing. I never—”

  “You could have stopped him,” Valan said. “I am doing this because I do not wish to see an alliance in Central Newterra with Rarick and his fool brother holding Rhysin’s and Maiten’s hearts. Sending Sorros with the Ambassador’s party to Frake’s Peak this morning proves that.”

  “If you don’t wish to see it, why are you facilitating it?”

  Valan glanced at Sorros again, but he answered Vincent’s question, “Because of Obdurin’s plan.”

  “Sending Sorros proves nothing,” Vincent said. “That mission was destined to fail, or Rarick wouldn’t have sent you here with his brother and his proposal.”

  “Only fools have a single iron in the fire, and while Rarick is a fool, I am not, and if we are to succeed, I must not appear to be a fool. I must behave as I always have and prepare for every eventuality.”

  “You can’t play both sides forever,” Sorros said.

  “I don’t need to play them forever, just until Rarick is gone. The cost of an alliance with Rarick and Warwick at the helm is too great. I do it to shape the world around me because I have no interest or faith in the Gods who presume to control and use us.” Looking at Vincent, Valan said, “I do it because it needs to be done and because I am not a coward.”

  Vincent said, “If you were not so badly injured I—”

  Valan laughed cutting Vincent off. “’If you were not’ are the words of a coward. A man of conviction wouldn’t stand there and make idle threats or talk about what he would do in another time and place. A man of conviction, a man not a coward, a man not you, would act regardless of my injuries. Cowards like rules and fair fights and being told what to do and when to do it. You’re a liar and a coward, Vincent d’Rhyne. If I were not so badly injured, you would find some other reason not to do it. Maybe if you ask Sorros, he will give you permission to beat me and then you won’t have to feel bad because somebody else told you to do it.”

  Vincent examined Valan where he sat, unarmed and injured, and he wondered what it was about immortals that made them determined to test him. Vincent thought, If I were a coward I would take the bait and beat you.

  Valan returned Vincent’s stare. Eventually, Valan said, “The weapons you came for are on the bed.”

  “What happened with Amir?” Sorros asked without moving toward the bed.

  “He failed, but you already know that. Obdurin would have reacted if Amir had killed Rarick.”

  “Killed Rarick?” Vincent asked halfway to the bed. “I thought Obdurin’s plan offered the best chance of killing Rarick.”

  “It does,” Valan said, his tone bored now. “But again, only a fool has a single iron in the fire.”

  “When did he make the attempt,” Sorros asked.

  “Yesterday, after you left.”

  There was an assortment of small unpowered weapons on the bed. Vincent picked up a spiked knuckle duster then dropped it.

  “How did he fail?” Sorros asked.

  “He was caught in the tunnels under the throne room.”

  “I thought those tunnels were a secret.”

  Valan pulled the black leather book to himself. A pen held his place, and Valan flipped it open. He took the pen and scribbled something onto the page then closed the book again.

  Vincent strapped a dagger to his left forearm and then concealed the weapon beneath the sleeve of his shirt. He might not be able to intuit all of the schemes taking place today, but this one was simple enough. Lord Obdurin’s protectors had been disarmed with no way of rearming themselves. Nobody would know Vincent was armed. That could make all the difference. He picked up a second dagger and strapped it to his right forearm.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Sorros said. “I thought those tunnels were a secret. How was Amir discovered?”

  “He was sloppy. He left clues.”

  “Rarick’s people discovered him?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Valan said.

  “You betrayed him?” Sorros asked.

  Valan nodded once. “He would have been caught anyway, and if somebody else had caught him, he might have said the wrong thing.”

  “You killed him?” Sorros didn’t sound shocked.

  “No, but it’ll be a while before he speaks again. We can use him.”

  “Rarick will be more alert now,” Sorros said.

  “You need to get back. Convince Obdurin one way or another,” Valan said with a glance in Vincent’s direction.

  “You’ve made things more difficult than they need to be,” Sorros said. “Amir might have solved the problem if you’d given him the chance.”

  “I don’t think so,” Valan replied.

  “You should have told me your plans,” Sorros said.

  Valan said, “Just do the job you were brought in to do.”

  Sorros noticed the bloodstain on his sleeve and folded the cuff back to hide it. “You’re in a lot of pain, so I’ll excuse the slip. However, do not ever think that I work for you or that I am yours to command. Ours is a temporary alliance at best. Our needs intersected for a brief period of time, and if we’re both smart, and I know we are, we can both profit from that intersection, but do not try to play me or think of me as one of your assets. If things go any other way than expected, I’ll hold you accountable.”

  Valan sat back and regarded Sorros for a moment. Eventually, he said, “It’s incredible. For a time I wasn’t sure if you believed the lies you tell the world, but I am starting to think you believe them completely.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sorros demanded.

  “You. Sorros d’Shan. There was a man who had that name once, but it wasn’t you.”

&n
bsp; “More games, Valan? I’m not so easily manipulated.”

  “No, not games. Curiosity. Ever since our paths crossed in Damar I’ve been waiting for the real you to peek out from behind the disguise you’re wearing, but now I think you’ve been wearing it for so long that you’ve forgotten there is another man beneath the mask.”

  “You’re pitiful, a wounded animal lashing out. Your lies and games aren’t nearly as intriguing as you think.”

  “Convince Obdurin not to go along with the plan. You’ve got about ten minutes,” Valan said.

  “Obdurin asked for an hour, and we’ve had less than half that time,” Vincent said.

  “Warwick is an impatient man. By now he has figured out what kind of a Chosen he wants to be and how to set the tone in the moment of his ascension. Fahlim may think he’s clever, but he traded Obdurin’s hour for the chance to show off and prove how clever he is.”

  Vincent gripped Sorros’s arm, and Sorros nodded.

  Behind them, Valan said, “Before you go, why don’t you tell Vincent why you haven’t taken any weapons?”

  Vincent glanced at the bed and realized it was true. He hadn’t noticed until now that Sorros had remained unarmed.

  “I don’t want to be a distraction. Vincent is uncertain he can trust me,” Sorros said.

  “Maybe there’s hope for him after all,” Valan said.

  “I think it’s the company I’ve been keeping,” Sorros said looking back at Valan.

  “He’s lying, Vincent,” Valan said.

  “What?” Vincent asked, looking between Sorros and Valan.

  “He wants you to think that is the reason he won’t take arms, but the truth is he doesn’t trust himself.”

  “Your games are becoming tedious,” Sorros said.

  “He doesn’t want to be the one to make the decision. He’d rather manipulate other people into doing it so he can tell himself it isn’t his fault when things go wrong,” Valan said.

  Vincent turned his back on the Wolf and skimmed through the wall with Sorros.

  15