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Nor Iron Bars a Cage

By Caprice Hokstad

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Slices of suns’ light pierced the morning fog. Captain Zinto paced the dock; his white cotton shirt and loose knee-pants billowed in the salty breeze. Deck-seasoned feet made too little sound for his mood, so he stomped to remedy the annoying silence. A tiny crab scurried across the weathered timbers. With a swift kick, Zinto launched the unfortunate creature to sea. The captain grumbled and swore under his breath, flailing his arms as he paced.

The sound of booted footsteps halted Zinto’s silent argument with the invisible. An eight-foot-tall Elva in black silk shirt and kidskin breeches topped by a black velvet manteau emerged from the haze. Zinto’s bushy gray brows furrowed in irritation as he attempted to school his features into proper respect for royalty. A dutiful dip of his head was all he dared offer in his pre¬sent state.

The young noble smiled and offered a slender hand. “Good morning, Captain Zinto.”

Zinto huffed, turned away, and resumed his pacing. “Forgive me for nay agreeing, your highness.”

“Not at all,” the younger replied. “Forgive me for assuming anyone could be as happy as I on this wonderful morning. Is there anything I might help with?”

“Nay a thing, unless ye can command the weather or find some sap to buy a cargo-hold o’ silk in the next hour.”

The nobleman arched a brow and studied Zinto. “Silk, eh? Why would you want to sell it so fast? Is there something wrong with The Spirit of Hamrid?” He looked up at the ship docked close by. Zinto’s proud vessel sat low in the water, all her masts and sails intact, her hull sound.

Zinto snorted softly, then quickly remembered with whom he spoke. “What’s wrong, M’lord Duke, is where your brother ordered her to sail.” The captain couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “He wants a ride to Rilad.”
The duke shook his head. He maneuvered to the skipper’s side and placed a well-manicured hand on his shoulder. “If I can’t convince King Arx to find other passage, I’ll buy the silk myself.”

Zinto whirled around, blue eyes wide. His face, wrinkled by time and tanned by twin suns, peered at the duke in disbelief. His jaw dropped, revealing several missing teeth. “Y—Ye would? What’d ye do with all that silk?”

“If you must take the king north, then you’ll have to lay anchor in Rilad for the storm season, correct?”
Zinto nodded.

“And the silk would be ruined before you could reach the garment maker’s guild in Dronak, right?”

Zinto nodded again. He was thankful Duke Vahn knew the sea and trade routes, so he didn’t have to explain the predica¬ment King Arx had put him into. He couldn’t store delicate silk in a musty hold for a whole winter, especially in Rilad, where rains would be heavy.

“If I hear of a ship heading south in the next few days, I’ll hire it, of course.”

“Nay much chance o’ that. Ev’r’one headed south has already gone, and anyone headed in is prob’ly plannin’ to winter here.”

“I can store the silk in an empty tavern I recently acquired.”

Zinto nodded again and then arched a suspicious brow. The king hadn’t cared for his problems. Why should this tenderfoot duke care? Nothing was ever free. “Ye can’t have anything to gain by storing a load o’ silk. What d’ye expect in return?”

The young noble chuckled. “Let’s just say I’m in a generous mood. You may buy it back next spring at the same price. Perhaps I’ll need a favor someday—”

Zinto interrupted, “Don’t be using me or m’ship as pawns in your feud.”

The duke’s voice lowered and dark brows knit over fiery black eyes. “If that’s what you think, then consider the offer void. Arx is the one who presumes unqualified allegiance by virtue of entering this world a mere seven minutes before I did. If I can’t earn your genuine trust, then I don’t want it.”

Zinto bowed his head. “I’m sorry, your highness. I… I didnay mean it that way. I guess I just expect ye to hold this over m’head.”

“I give you my word as a knight that I won’t. If I could buy your loyalty with gold or silk, it wouldn’t be very valuable, now would it?” He extended his hand again. This time the captain took it and the two grasped each other’s wrists.

“Thank you, your highness. I accept.”

“Good. Now let’s see if I can’t talk my brother out of this nonsense so those Dronakian tailors can get their silk on time. He’s on board already?”

“Aye, he’s aboard. Had to work pretty hard at convincin’ him I couldnay leave wi’out me first mate. Salty’s in town buying rations. If I tell him we’re sailing north with this silk after he haggled the deal o’ the decade to buy it… well, I might lose him.”

“That won’t happen. Either you sail south with your cargo or it stays safe in Ny. And in that case, since you’ll be detained up north, I’ll insist that Arx put your whole crew up at the Royal Palace all winter.”

Zinto laughed and slapped his thigh. “Well, that oughtta do it! Twelve sailors loiterin’ around the landlubber’s fancy palace is enough to spook any man into finding another way home.”

The duke laughed as well. “Permission to board, Captain?”

Zinto smiled. The duke didn’t have to ask; royalty were excused from maritime customs. King Arx hadn’t asked permis¬sion to board The Spirit of Hamrid any more than he asked where she was headed when he commandeered her for his trip. “Board her with me favor. Would you be needing m’cabin boy to show you about?”

The duke paused. A sly smile wended over his lips. “Well, I don’t need a tour escort, but I might need some help with my plan. I think I can find the lad. You go ahead and see to your first mate.”

“Aye.” Zinto’s right hand lifted to touch his brow. The duke stood erect and returned the salute. Captain Zinto blinked, surprised. Even odder, the duke stood fast and waited for Zinto to break the salute first. Zinto’s cheeks flushed. He snapped his hand to his side, whirled around, and jogged off toward town.

--

Duke Vahn waited until Zinto yielded, enjoying the astonishment on the captain’s whiskered face. Mother was right. Peasants appreciated small tokens of respect and usually deserved them more than the nobles. Zinto was a good man, not the sort who would argue with the king, even when compliance meant great personal loss. Vahn had to find some way around his brother’s mistrust. Arx never listened to him.

It was rather disheartening that Arx was leaving Ny so quickly. Vahn knew he hadn’t been a very good host, but surely Arx had understood that he wanted to spend time with the maiden who’d saved both their lives. No one thought she would live. Her miraculous recovery was what sent Vahn looking for his brother in the first place.

A sailor met him at the top of the gangplank and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty.”

Vahn nearly corrected him, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to send a request for audience that would likely be refused. For once, he was glad for the resemblance. Vahn puffed out his chest and tried to sound as pompous as Arx. “As you were, sailor. I need the cabin boy and be quick about it.”

“Right away, your majesty.” The sailor darted below deck.

Vahn removed the manteau from about his shoulders. A sailor or two might not recognize him, but surely Arx’s guards would if Vahn wore his signature black attire. He draped the velvet over his arm and mentally rehearsed his strategy while he waited.

The cabin boy scrambled up the ladder from below deck, looking nervous and winded. He knelt and bowed his head. A meek voice barely escaped. “You called for me, your majesty?”

Vahn smiled and motioned him up with a wave. Now, how to persuade the lad to be his accomplice without implicating him in the crime. He paused, studying the youth. Sandy blond hair lay unkempt about his head. That alone would have given him away as Itzi, but the round ears confirmed it. Curiously, though the boy looked at least twelve, he wore no slave bands. Very unusual for a free Itzi to be given such a position—but of all Elva, Vahn was least likely to object. He thought of the Itzi slave waiting at home for him and couldn’t help but smile.

“I need you to fetch one of the captain’s shirts, lad, and ask no questions. I assure you Zinto already gave his approval.” Vahn winced at his own words. Arx wouldn’t have given any explanation. Nor would his brother have asked the captain to begin with. Thankfully, the lad’s gaze was glued too well to the deck to have seen the wince.

“Yes, your majesty, right away.” The boy stumbled over his own feet and rushed back below deck.

Vahn stifled a grin and found a repository on the portside rail for his manteau. He removed his jerkin and set it atop the manteau, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails out from his breeches. He waited, staring down a few sailors who cocked brows as they passed him. None were so unwise as to question him, no matter who they thought he was. They all averted their eyes the moment Vahn’s frown made clear their glances were unwelcome.

The Itzi lad returned, panting as he knelt and offered the shirt. Vahn slipped his hand into his jerkin pocket and removed a silver coin. He accepted the white cotton shirt, deftly exchanging it with the coin. The youth blinked, looking up in amazement. Vahn pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. The boy gave thanks enough with his smile and heeded the dismissing nod without further sound. Perfect. Vahn couldn’t have asked for better from one of his own.

When the boy turned a corner, Vahn quickly looked both ways, then traded his black silk for the white cotton. He left his shirt among the garments already removed, then buttoned and tucked in the captain’s. The shirt was bright white, its good con¬dition leading Vahn to believe it was reserved for special occasions—good enough that Arx might wear it when no one of consequence would see. On second thought, Arx probably wouldn’t wear it even here, pretentious aristocrat he was.

Although that realization caused a sudden flutter of heartbeat, Vahn quickly calmed his nerves with the consolation that it didn’t matter whether Arx would really wear it. The question was, would his guards notice whether a shirt were silk or cotton, or question their king’s choice of raiment? Vahn was certain they wouldn’t.

He shook his head so that the wind could blow his hair into a more anonymous style. He had no looking-plate to examine his reflection, but he knew well enough that his face and stature would carry this off. Even Mother had been unable to tell when they played tricks on her, as long as she didn’t see them together.

Assuming the guards had followed normal palace procedures, they had just changed shifts at suns’ rise. Those stationed outside Arx’s cabin would remain if Arx left. The fresh guards would likely not even know if the king had stepped out before they arrived. The real concern was Arx’s personal bodyguards. Surely at least one would be inside with the king.

Below deck, the duke feigned disorientation with a passing sailor in order to ascertain where “his” cabin was. The sailor dutifully gave him directions. The ceilings were too low to accommodate Vahn’s full height so he hunched over and kept an eye out for the bracing timbers that made him duck even further. Creaking planks and the authoritative click of boot heels loudly announced his coming, but he didn’t attempt to hide. Musty air smelled of fish, both cooked and raw. The narrow pas-sages were dimly lit, which would work in his favor.

The two guards stationed outside the door exchanged mild looks of surprise, but didn’t question him. Vahn had forgotten the thrill of perpetrating a wild scheme. He smiled inwardly; he was actually having fun. He’d felt happier and more alive in the last twelve hours than he had in months. He hoped Arx wouldn’t put a damper on his high spirits.

When the door shut silently behind him, Vahn took quick stock of the room. It was small by royal standards, but large by maritime ones. The porthole was large enough to see the fog clearing outside. Numerous seagulls cawed and cavorted just out¬side the hull. Arx didn’t stir from his slumber. Though the bed seemed built for two, Arx’s limbs sprawled over the entire surface and his feet protruded over the edge. Only one bodyguard slept soundly on the floor.

Then a dark thought entered Vahn’s mind—a thought completely contrary to his original purpose. Might this be his best opportunity to advance his ultimate goal? If Arx were dead, Vahn would have the Throne and even admitting to slaying his brother would not jeopardize it. By the ancient rights of Twin Inheritance, the kingdom should have been half his to begin with. Father had gone against both tradition and the portents of the Archmage to give Arx the entire kingdom instead. Vahn had been cheated of his birthright.

Additionally, Arx had mishandled kingdom affairs. The populace was losing confidence in their monarch and the borders were highly unstable. Eliminating Arx would certainly solve Captain Zinto’s problems as well. Vahn had promised to find Arx another way home besides the Hamrid. A funeral procession would definitely qualify.

Vahn removed the dagger from his boot and tiptoed toward the bed. It was strange to watch the face that looked so much like his own, sleeping there so oblivious to threat. Mother and Father were not alive to be hurt by this. Nor did Vahn much care about all the distant cousins who maintained ties more for politics than any sense of family. He knelt at bedside and stealthily inched the dagger toward his brother’s neck.
The steel glinted in the dim light of the tiny compartment. The edge was sharp and the weapon well-balanced. Vahn was skilled with a blade; he could slice through a throat so fast that Arx would never waken nor know the terror of impending doom. Vahn’s hand didn’t waver as he drew the blade closer to the pulsing neck of his only brother and the last of his close kin.

With neither sound nor disturbance, he held a section of his brother’s hair near the nape of the neck and sheared it off. He replaced the dagger in his boot and held fast to the hair. “Not today, Arx,” he whispered. “Not on the day I set aside for my beloved.” He watched, wondering if his brother would rouse. Arx slept still.

Vahn continued his whispered lecture, his face contorted into a scowl. “You won’t ruin her day and I won’t become the coward Terzak was. It’ll be when I am ready, and not before. And you shall have a weapon in your hand and your eyes wide open. No one will ever say that I didn’t give you every right of your position. If you vanquish me on that day, so be it.”

Just then, Vahn felt a blade press against his throat. Slowly, he raised his hands to show he no longer held the dagger, only a handful of hair. The bodyguard behind him was not placated. He pulled Vahn back, using the blade against his neck as leverage.

“Wake up, Arx!” Vahn said.

His brother awoke with a start. Dark eyes grew wide in recognition. Before Arx could take a breath to speak, Vahn held up the hair.

“I could have killed you while you slept if I’d cared to.” Vahn tossed the hair to the bedcovers.
Arx reached up and fingered the shorn spot.

“See?” Vahn taunted. The bodyguard retaliated with a rough pull on Vahn’s shoulders and a tightening on the blade. Vahn felt the warm trickle of blood down his neck.

The other guards burst in the door. They pointed their swords at the already immobilized duke, but Vahn just smirked. Arx was still groggy and Vahn intended to take advantage of it.

“Awfully late, aren’t you?” Vahn sneered at the guards. “How long have I been in here? I entered without question, armed with a dagger—a weapon I am quite capable of putting to lethal use. If I had intended to kill my brother, he would be dead already. Now I suggest you take that dagger from my boot and go outside so my brother and I can chat. While you’re waiting, try to think of one reason why King Arx shouldn’t have all your heads for your failure.”

One of the door guards snatched the dagger from Vahn’s boot and then looked helplessly at his stunned sovereign, quaking as he awaited the king’s verdict.

Arx poked the strands of hair on his bedcovers as if to test their substance. Vahn’s words seemed to register belatedly.

“Search his other boot, then leave us,” Arx muttered.

Vahn’s brows slanted. “Not enough that I refrained when I had the perfect opportunity. You can’t even honor my word as a knight.”

The second guard checked the empty boot and backed out with his companion. The bodyguard reluctantly released his grip, freeing Vahn from the chokehold and the blade. Vahn continued to glare at Arx. The bodyguard stood at attention only a few feet away. There would be no privacy without a more specific order from the king.

“Drop it, Vahn,” Arx hissed. “You’re the one who stole in unannounced. I could have you stripped and flogged for this.”

Vahn’s fingers clenched and his lips twisted into a scowl. It took every ounce of restraint not to knock Arx’s teeth out. “You do that, Brother. And be sure to invite kee to watch. Show her how you reward those who spare your life. In fact, maybe you should beat her too for thwarting your assassination.” His words dripped in sarcasm. He’d die before he’d allow his brother or anyone else to touch her.
Arx’s brows raised as he looked up at Vahn. “kee? She’s improving?”

Vahn shot another disparaging look at the unwelcome bodyguard then lowered his voice. “More than improving. The Archmage came last night after you left. He and his disciples healed her completely. There are scars, but she’s whole and hale—and full of contrition for not showing you proper obeisance.”
“I told her not to worry about that.”

“And I told her the same. She was on her deathbed, for Heaven’s sake. But I intend to honor her publicly and I thought you could do better by her if you’d at least pretend to condone it.”

“Well, of course I condone it. And you know I’d want to represent myself and the queen in full participation. Why didn’t you just send a missive?”

“You didn’t exactly make yourself easy to find. I expected you’d be resting at the inn for a few days, not compelling some poor skipper to squander a years’ wages to get you home.”

Arx stepped out of the bed, grunting. “Rubbish. It’s not that far and Zinto was happy to take us.”

“It’s not the distance; it’s the timing. Did you notice how low the ship was in the water? He has a full hold of silk that needs to get to Dronak. If he takes you north instead, his cargo rots in Rilad harbor all winter.”

“Well, he didn’t mention this.”

“Of course not. You’re the king and he’s a loyal subject. It’s no wonder the peasants think we don’t care when we commandeer their livelihood for our own petty purposes and don’t even notice how much we put them out. Did you offer any compensation?”

The king shifted on the creaky bed.

“I thought not,” Vahn muttered.

“My entourage rode hard to get here on your insistence that the matter with Terzak was urgent. I’m sick of horses and their smell, so I asked Zinto to convey us to Rilad. He agreed. Maybe he’d like to tell his children someday how he once hosted the king.”

More likely, your royal buttocks are sore rather than your snobbish nose offended. Vahn refrained from verbalizing his thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arx. He agreed because he felt it was his duty. Pride wouldn’t allow him to complain. But it’s irrele-vant how it happened. What are you going to do, now that you know? If Saerula hadn’t absconded with my carriage, I’d let you take that. Can you trust me enough to find you another way home?”

“No one will be headed north this close to storm season.”

Vahn bit back a smile. “Probably not. But I could possibly find someone to skipper my yacht for you. You pay the skipper a reasonable wage and I’ll call it even.”

“Well, I suppose you won’t scuttle your own boat to kill me. That’ll do.”

Vahn ground his teeth to keep from retorting against the implication. “Excellent. Come back to Rebono Keep and—”

“I’ll stay at the inn. Whatever you want to do for kee, do it quick. Arrange the voyage immediately after her tribute.”

Vahn was torn between relief that he’d not have to tolerate his brother in his house and disappointment for kee. She had her heart set on giving the king a proper welcome. She wouldn’t have wanted Vahn to “bother” him for her acclaim. Vahn expected he’d have to order her to accept any sort of honor as it was.
“Arx, if you want to believe I’m out to kill you, that’s your problem. But for kee, would you at least come to dinner? Give her the illusion that she’s made a good name for my house? I’ll make some excuse not to eat with you. Just let her show you some hospitality and accept it for her sake. Please?”

“On one condition: plan her honors sometime today and I’ll eat at your table tonight. The two of us will conduct ourselves as befits our station, but when I excuse myself early, you will support me by saying that your skipper wants to leave at suns’ rise. Agreed?”

“Agreed. But don’t overdo it feigning the brotherly love. She’s not stupid.” He wished he’d never told Arx that kee was Itzi. He wanted Arx to covet her, maybe even try to woo her to his house. It would be so gratifying to watch her deny him such a treasure. Vahn had no doubt any more that she would deny him. She was his alone.

“I never said she was.”

Vahn dismissed hopes of inciting jealousy and returned his thoughts to the matter at hand. “I was thinking of a parade at teatime. I will put kee on my mount and have my equerry announce her accolades as he leads the horse through the streets. You and I can ride behind her.”

“I’ll walk,” Arx muttered.

Vahn smiled. This confirmed the royal saddle sores. Still, Arx could have insisted on hiring carriages and Vahn didn’t want to give him any opportunity to hide. Surprising enough he would consent to allowing an Itzi to sit in a higher position. “I will walk as well. Do you wish me at your side or behind you?”

By all rights, Arx was Vahn’s guest in his capital. Vahn could have insisted on equal rank in a parade he was hosting. But it was far more delicious to make his brother choose it himself. Of course, Arx would never want his twin at his back. Vahn could feel his brother agonizing between pretentious pride and utter distrust.

“She is of your house, Vahn. You may walk on my left.”

Vahn bit the insides of his lips. He should have expected Arx to dictate his position and grant permission as if it were some sort of favor. He wanted to spit back a snide reply, but he more desired to preserve the honor afforded kee. He dipped his head and took on a coldly formal tone. “Of course, your majesty. By your leave then?”

Arx dismissed him with an indifferent wave of his hand.

This is what I get for sparing his pompous hide. Vahn gave the bodyguard a contemptuous glare, marched out, demanded his dagger from the door guards, and deliberately implied that he and Arx had discussed grave punishments. He didn’t wipe the scowl from his face until he was back in the open air, cleaning the blood from his neck and changing into his ebon silk.

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