Janrae Frank Journey Of Sacred King 02 Sins Of The Mother

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reaction from the small group in Hoon's west study. She had insisted the
Bodramet be present. Timon was there also, sitting near his father's great
desk. "I have heard some rumors of an incident in Claw Redhand's valley."
Mephistis came instantly alert, staring hard at her.
Hoon and the others turned toward her after noting Mephistis' reaction.
Bodramet slid one hand beneath the table that stood to one side of the desk,
concealing his hand clenching into a fist.
Margren schooled her features into an expression of concern. "I wondered if
one of your people could tell me if the rumors are true, Lord Hoon?"
"And what are these rumors, my lady?" Hoon asked, flicking a glance at his
son who usually knew every rumor in the castle. Timon shook his head.
"That a young sa'necari, a mere youth, had been murdered there."
Mephistis stiffened, clutching the arms of his chair. "Isranon!" He rose from
his seat, seized Margren by the throat, and threw her across the room,
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charging after her. "You killed him ... you discovered where I had hidden him
and you had him murdered."
Margren caught at his wrists and then pried at his fingers, trying to get
them loose from her throat. "No. How was I to know that is where you sent
him?"
A look slid between Hoon and Timon both at Isranon's name and Mephistis'
reaction. Then Hoon rose and separated them. "Rumors, my prince, are just
rumors. You don't know for certain that this young friend of yours is slain.
Timon will make discreet inquiries."
Mephistis stumbled away from Margren, the flush of rage dissipating in his
face. His heart hammered and pain echoed through him. Hoon poured him four
fingers of Sanguine Rose after getting the prince into a chair.
Bodramet frowned at Margren for speaking so freely.
Margren shrugged, feeling so satisfied that she wanted to wiggle all over
like a well-stroked cat. She smoothed her dress and settled back in her own
chair. She had hurt Mephistis and that felt very good. She also had Bodramet
squirming. It all had the taste of fresh cream with cherries floating in it
blood cherries from the death tree.
Hoon Read Mephistis and poured him a second dose. "You should go up to your
rooms and rest."
"My friend?"
"We will send agents to the valley to make inquiries. Lycans. They will not
be suspected," Timon said.
Hoon summoned servants to help Mephistis to his rooms. Margren and Bodramet
followed them out.
When Hoon sat alone with his son, he filled two glasses with a fine vintage
of sylvan blood and pushed one across the desk to Timon. "There is a game
being played here. I want to know what it is. I also want to know why any
sa'necari would name their son Isranon. The name bothers me."
Timon stared into his glass. "I am surprised after all these centuries that
Dawnhand's name can still trouble you. Especially since you betrayed him,
father."
Hoon sucked in a breath. "I loved my brother ... but I had no choice." Hoon
rubbed his hands over his face as if to shove away the memories. "Any more
than I had a choice about turning you when I found you dying."
Timon did not address that. "Tell me how you wish this handled. Or is it at
my discretion?"
"At your discretion. I wish Anksha were here. She would get to the bottom of
it all in no time."
Timon shook his head, downing his glass and pouring a second. "The
demon-eater must never come to Waejontor again. It is too dangerous for her.
King Baaltrystan and the nobility would try to destroy her if they knew she
still exists. Leave her at home, father."
"I had no intention of sending for her, I merely wished. One day, I will
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introduce the prince and Bodramet to Anksha. For now, find out what you can
about what really happened in that valley and what is going on with this game
the three of them are playing in my castle."
Timon rose. "As you wish, father."
* * * *
Bodramet followed Margren to her rooms. She quickened her pace when she
realized he was on her heels and darted through a crowd of Lemyari and nibari
heading for the main sitting room together. Bodramet nodded at that. He had
thought for a minute she intended to betray him to Mephistis and Hoon in the
study. He would teach her such things were unwise. Margren jerked her door
open and ran inside. Before she could get it closed, Bodramet had his fingers
around the edge and stopped it. Margren gave a yelp and snarled wordlessly at
him. He yanked the door forward and then back, slamming her in the face. Any
damage he did would be repaired with blood. With blood Sa'necari healed,
necari mended. But it made no outward difference. Margren staggered back from
the door, a hand to her bleeding nose.
"Were you going to betray me, Margren?" Bodramet asked, stepping inside. He
closed and barred the door.
Margren threw up her shields. She had much power, but they were poorly made.
Mephistis had had no time to train her before they were forced to flee. Now
the prince seemed to have no energy to teach her. Something was badly wrong
with him. He was sick. Bodramet sketched a sign and knocked the shields down.
Margren retreated, and then threw a death web at him. He brushed it aside with
a dismissive gesture and advanced on her.
"Is that what you were going to do?" Bodramet demanded again. "Mephistis may
be willing to put up with your petty treacheries and indiscretions, but I will
not."
He struck at her legs and then her head in rapid gestures, flinging the black [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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