Kingslayer (9 page)

The shirt was in the rich blue of Niotan although the pants were white. But he’d noticed yesterday that most of his new wardrobe had blue in it somewhere. The queen’s way of putting her personal stamp of ownership on him? Sego’s way of silently telling people where Darius’s loyalty lay? He hadn’t quite dared to ask yesterday with the tailor flying around him with scissors in one hand and a dozen lethal pins in the other.

It didn’t really matter, anyway. Darius believed in being neat and presentable and if the clothes allowed him to do that, then he approved. More importantly, if he dawdled too long, Bohme would start eating without him.

He stepped back into the main room. Like yesterday, Bohme had placed the breakfast tray on the low table in the center of the room and had already sat on one of the plush pillows. This time, to Darius’s inner relief,
two
trays had been sent. Bohme’s kitchen friend’s work?

Regardless, it meant Darius could actually get enough to eat this morning. He settled comfortably on his own cushion across the table and happily dug into the food. In between bites, he said, “This morning I’ll be meeting with my staff and laying out more plans. Go ahead and sleep while they’re here.”

Bohme had his mouth full of bread but he nodded in acceptance.

A swift knock came at the door.

As Bohme still had a mouth full of food, Darius called out, “Who is it?”

“Sego, sir.”

Sego?
Already?
Did the man not sleep at all? “Enter!”

He did so without ceremony, a stack of scrolls tucked under one arm. He looked a little surprised to see them eating breakfast together, but Darius could guess why. No lead general in court would normally “sink” to eating with a mere bodyguard. Sego, being raised in this court, no doubt had been influenced to think in class distinctions. But Darius didn’t share that view and never would.

Hoping to break a little more past that courteous wall Sego kept up around him, Darius waved him to an empty cushion. “Have bread with us, Sego.”

Sego stopped for a moment, head snapping around to stare at Darius in open surprise. In Arape, inviting a man to eat bread was an offer of friendship. He’d heard that doing so in Niotan meant basically the same thing, but apparently it meant more. At least,judging from Sego’s reaction, it meant more.

Darius didn’t try to retract the offer. He needed every ally he could get and Sego was a good man. They could be friends if the other man would just drop his guard a little.

There were several polite ways to dodge the invitation, but Sego didn’t try any of them. He simply swallowed hard and nodded. “I’d be honored.”

Darius smiled and picked up the bread basket between Bohme’s tray and his, doling out a small handroll to each of them before passing the bread down the table toward Sego. He pretended not to notice how carefully Sego eased down to the cushion. The man’s leg apparently didn’t bend well and he had to arrange it to where it lay flat out and off to the side.

When bread was broken between friends, especially the first time, it was not polite to discuss business. Sego didn’t even put the scrolls on the table, but set them aside on the floor. Darius nodded in approval and offered soft butter and cheese as well.

They ate bread in companionable silence for a few moments. Darius stole a look from the corner of his eye at Sego. The man looked thoughtful. He kept staring at the bread in his hands as if it held the answers to all of the world’s mysteries.

“You….” the word seemed loud in the silence of the morning and Darius’s head jerked up to stare at his aide. Sego met his eyes as he spoke. “You really intend to live here, then?”

He makes it sound like I have another choice.
Darius’s head canted to the side in confusion. “Of course. I swore to Tresea herself. Where else can I be?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve watched you for days now go from one end of the palace to the other and every word out of your mouth has been about war. You didn’t seem to think of anything else. Even your clothes were just a necessity, and not something you invested in.” Sego seemed to struggle for a moment to find the right words. “I did not think that you wanted to really
live
here.”

Ahhh. He understood now. “I have every intention of living out the rest of my days in this country.” Scratching his cheek he admitted ruefully, “I just don’t know where to start making friends. I’m a former enemy, after all. It’s hard to win you people over.”

“Understandable,” Sego responded. He looked satisfied as he finally bit into the bread.

“Good plashe to shtart would be Raja’sh gift,” Bohme reminded him.

Darius snapped his fingers. “I forgot. My thanks. Sego, I think it best that I send a gift to Raja Tailli to thank her for giving me Bohme. What do you think would be a good thing to send?”

“I will help you choose something appropriate this afternoon,” Sego promised. “It cannot be jewelry or clothing, as those are courting gifts.”

He nearly choked on the bread. Phew, that was close. In Arape, the correct gift would have been a bolt of beautiful fabric or a chain of silver, depending on the gender of the receiver. Good thing he’d asked.

“You
are
aware that I am the steward of your household as well?” Sego asked this as if he already knew the answer.

Darius blinked at him quite stupidly for a moment. It had escaped his immediate notice that he now
had
a household. But of course he would, with his appointment of lead general. Usually the position came with lands as well, but he couldn’t imagine that would be the case here. If Tresea gave a former enemy-converted-ally actual land, she’d have a riot on her hands from the court. And rightly so, too.

But that now explained why Sego had already gone ahead and seen to his wardrobe. As steward, it would be expected of him. Still, that begged another question. “What were you doing before being assigned to me?”

“Military intelligence.”

Darius perked up at this answer. “
That’s
why you can put your hands on information so quickly.”

Sego flashed him a smug look. “That’s why.”

No wonder the queen had assigned him, then.

“Your household does not have much to it at the moment,” Sego continued, reaching for another piece of bread. “But now that I know you want to make a good life here, I will help you build a worthy house.”

Darius rubbed at the back of his head and wondered how to respond to that. “Sego…you
do
know that I’m a merchant’s son, right?”

Both men froze and looked at him carefully, as if suspecting that he was pulling their legs.

“You’re very well spoken for a merchant’s son,” Sego responded slowly, still not quite believing him.

“My father traded information more than he did goods, some seasons,” Darius admitted with a laugh. “We all grew up learning three or four languages, so I’m more educated than most.” That had been particularly handy when he was commanding the Brindisi forces, as he could usually give the orders directly instead of relying on translators. “But my point is this: I have no idea how to set up a prestigious household. I’m not sure I want to really bother doing it, either. It seems like a hassle.”

Sego lifted his eyes to the heavens, no doubt praying for patience. “Queen Tresea gave me very firm orders. She wants you to build a proper household here.”

“Why?” Darius asked, and then felt like smacking himself for asking an obvious question. “Wait, let me guess. She’s afraid that I’ll run off and return home after we defeat Brindisi, is that it?”

Sego nodded wryly. “You cannot blame her. You have nothing to tie you here.”

Not yet, anyway, except that oath of loyalty he gave her. But he didn’t have any spare head space to think about playing house. “Do whatever you want to make her happy.” He shrugged, finishing off the last of the fruit on his plate. “I need to focus on other things.”

This answer didn’t surprise his aide/steward one bit. “Of course.” With a sidelong glance he added blandly, “I’ll save the bride searching for later, after you’re more established.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Darius nearly choked. “B-bride?!”

“You’re a man of status if not of wealth,” Sego pointed out in a rational tone that belied the twinkle in his eyes. “There
will
be prospective brides being offered to you. Some families especially don’t care if the groom has green skin and missing limbs, if it means political power, they’ll give one of their daughters away.”

A truly scary thought. In fact, the scariest part of that was that if Queen Tresea heard of any of these potential matches, she’d likely endorse them as it would be yet another way to tie him permanently to Niotan.

“No brides,” Darius ordered firmly, a little panicked.

“It’ll likely take time before anyone approaches, as no one is quite sure how influential you are yet,” Sego soothed, although he still had that thrice-cursed twinkle in his eyes. “We have time to think of a counter strategy for any offers.”

If Shaa were smiling on him, he wouldn’t
get
any offers. No, that might be too much to ask. Darius knew full well after five years in a formal court that marriages were political bargaining tools and only the politically naïve thought otherwise.

A knock at the door saved him. Bohme instantly climbed to his feet and strode over to answer it. Darius had a feeling that his staff had arrived, which was confirmed when Bohme opened the door fully and stepped aside, letting the visitors inside.

Darius got to his feet and smiled in welcome. After spending the past couple of days together, he was starting to get a better feel for them. None of them had said a great deal unless he’d asked direct questions, but he hoped that their reticence had been simply because they were still feeling out how to react to him.

Today, they needed to start talking. Darius thought aloud (a bad habit he’d picked up from his mother) and he needed to sound things out with the people around him. If they didn’t talk back, he didn’t know if the idea was good or bad. Today, they would talk, or he’d start twisting arms.

“Come in,” he invited, ushering them to the war room next door. “Your timing is good. Sego has brought more information for us.” He paused to scoop the scrolls off the floor. Part of him really wanted to offer Sego a hand up as well, but his aide looked a little miffed that he’d even dared to pick up the scrolls. Any more help than this would not be accepted.

Darius bit back a sigh at the man’s pride and simply continued. “Bohme, go nap.”

His bodyguard gave a short bow of acceptance and ducked into the bedroom.

Kaveh, Navid and Ramin went straight through without a backwards glance. Darius did look back to make sure that Sego could get up but apparently the man had figured out how to rise gracefully from the floor and he did it without any real effort. Satisfied, he followed his staff into the room.

After the first day, and with Bohme and Sego’s help, Darius had managed to gather most of what he needed to really work here. A large terrain map now lay across the desk, covering practically the entire space. All of the information that Sego gathered filled one shelf, with paper, quills and ink on the shelf above it. Darius’s seal as lead general took up a shelf all by itself, even though it wasn’t any larger than a child’s hand. In time, stacks of reports would no doubt take over every corner of the room, but for now, this would do.

Sego had ordered for more chairs to be brought in, so every man had a place to sit around the different sides of the table. Darius sat at the head and reached for the paper he’d hastily written his battle plans on. With everyone settled, he said without preamble, “The queen approved our plan which means it’s time to get to work.”

Ramin seemed to find this funny as he had to strangle a laugh. “And, ah, what do you call everything we did the past three days, sir?”

“Prep work,” Darius deadpanned. “But let’s start with the prep work. Commander Ramin, you spoke to the blacksmiths about modifying the shields?”

“Yes, sir.” Ramin reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out a rolled scroll, which he set on the table and rolled out. Several sketches of shields were on it, with different modifications, and measurements written off to the side.

Darius rose from his seat and came around the table to stand at Ramin’s side, as he wasn’t quite good enough at reading Niotanese to be able to do it sideways.

“I actually called together a hasty conference with the top blacksmiths in the Army,” Ramin said, angling the parchment a little so Darius could see it better. “We threw ideas back and forth, and here’s the top three. The first option is just to cut the shield shorter, so that you have free range of motion over the top.”

Actually, he didn’t agree, but Darius wanted one of the others to speak up this time. They needed to start voicing their opinions. Especially Navid, as he didn’t talk at all unless someone prodded him into it. “Navid? What’s your opinion?”

As he had yesterday, the rough-looking Commander hesitated strongly and took a long moment before he spoke. “Would give soldier more room to attack, but also less protection,” he finally said in that deep, rumbling bass. “Not sure if worth it.”

Kaveh nodded in agreement, eyes studying the parchment intently, even though from his angle it was upside down. “It’s true, shortening the shield might not be the best option. But this second option you have sketched out, the one with the narrow hole near the top—I like the look of that.”

Darius took a better look at it, trying to mentally picture himself as a soldier behind that shield. The hole extended only a hand’s length from the top of the shield and had enough width to it that a spear could easily go through and attack an opponent. As an added benefit, most of the shield could still be used to protect the man holding it. He looked at the final option, but it was very similar to the second, only it had a round, scooped opening instead of a rectangular one.

Navid, after darting a look at Darius, reached out and tapped the third option. “More room to wield spear.”