Chapter Seven
Captain Bauti’s chair groaned as he leaned back and put his feet on the desk. Unlike other officials in the palace, Bauti preferred a wooden desk. No granite, no marble, no wrought iron, or steel. Just a simple, functional desk big enough to spread out the papers he needed, but not big enough to appear ostentatious.
He was Captain of the Royal Guard, not prince.
Before him, Samaran Tan shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, making a steeple of his fingers under his chin. Bauti tried not to smile. He’d summoned the spymaster using a common servant. Tan didn’t like being summoned at all, much less by a servant. It was not becoming of his position. But Bauti was tired of Tan’s games, and thought he needed to be taken down a notch.
He’d been wrong.
“My spies have no idea who the assassins are,” the spymaster said, looking down his turned-up nose at Bauti. “But we know they’ll be close to the Royal family.”
“They?”
Tan nodded his massive head. “Denari Lai always send two. They’re cautious people. In fact, I would not be beyond suspecting members of your own Royal Guard, Captain.”
He smirked as he said that last part, and Bauti resisted the urge to drive his dagger into the man’s forehead. It would look so good sticking out from between his eyes like a horn on some mythical fat beast.
“The Royal Guard is beyond suspicion, Minister. I hand-select all of them.”
Tan squeezed himself into an armchair on the wall opposite Bauti’s desk. It was a calculated move, taking him just outside Bauti’s peripheral vision, a place the spymaster knew would make the seasoned soldier uncomfortable. Bauti had to commend him for the tactic, but refused to shift and give the man any satisfaction.
Emboldened, Tan went on. “Nonetheless, Captain, even you yourself must be suspect until we know for sure. But our chances are negligible. Only one Denari Lai has ever been outed.”
“Smart bastards. And cold.”
For a moment, Samaran Tan seemed almost insulted, as if he idolized the Denari Lai, or respected them. Then he shook himself, and nodded.
“Brutal killers usually are.”
“We should question anyone arriving in the palace in the last six months,” Bauti offered. “Perhaps even the last year. Give the dungeon master three days and he’ll break even the strongest Denari Lai.”
Tan trilled a laugh, a sound that, coming from the mountainous man, it sent a shiver down Bauti’s spine.
“While Master Jarne is quite capable, I doubt he could break a Denari Lai. Remember, these are zealots, completely dedicated to Nishi and his will for them. They would rather die in silence and go to heaven than live a bit longer and suffer eternity on fire.
“Besides, we don’t want to show our hand too soon. At this point we should observe quietly.”
Bauti thought about that. As much as he hated to admit it, the whale of a man had a point.
“What do you think of the Kendshi girl?” he asked.
“She is half Nishi’iti.” He tapped his chin with a chubby forefinger. “She’s close to the Princess, who adores her, and we really don’t know much about her. But I don’t know that she’s smart enough to be an assassin.”
Bauti took his feet off the desk and turned to face Samaran Tan.
“Her stupidity could be an act. But would the Denari Lai use a half-breed?”
“There is a historical precedent,” Tan answered. “A half-breed Denari Lai killed a Slevonian general many years ago. He worked his way up from the ranks of the common foot soldier, becoming the general’s most trusted officer before slitting his throat.
“Remember, the Denari Lai keep their assassins loyal by feeding them magic. They become addicted to that power, and if they start to stray in their loyalty, the Nishi’iti simply cut them off until they’re back in line. Or dead.”
Bauti sighed. The system was cruel but efficient, a layered method of creating insanely dedicated soldiers. If religious zeal was not enough, dependence on power was.
“What of the Nishi’iti military?” Bauti asked. “Has their status changed?”
Tan heaved himself up from the chair, his breath whooshing like a bellows. He paced toward the door to Bauti’s chambers.
“There appears to be a slight military buildup in the Nishi’iti southern foothills. Our spies report small numbers of soldiers moving south from the capital city, but this could simply be reinforcements due to recent clashes.”
“Or,” Bauti said, staring at the fat man, “they could be preparations to retaliate for our crackdown on the slave rebellions.”
Tan nodded and reached for the doorknob. He paused, tilting his head as if thinking, then raised a finger and looked at Bauti.
“There is one Council member I think we can eliminate from suspicion.”
“And who would that be?” As for as Bauti was concerned, anyone Tan brought up was automatically more suspicious.
“Minister Ashai.”
Bauti’s grip on the arms of his chair tightened and his jaw clenched. He still couldn’t believe the arrogant merchant was Lord of Coin. Penny counter. Minister of Finance.
“As far as I’m concerned, Minister Ashai is a top suspect. I already have my men investigating him.”
Tan twisted the doorknob and clucked at Bauti like a mother hen.
“I’m disappointed in you, Captain. I expected more efficiency from someone of your background. Ashai entered the palace thirteen days ago, after the threat was sent. The assassin was in place before he came to us, meaning he cannot be the killer. And if he was Denari Lai, our king would be dead.”
Bauti fought the urge to rip the arms from his chair and beat Samaran Tan with them. Infuriatingly, the man was right. His logic sound. Bauti almost wanted Ashai to be the assassin, longed to let Jarne put him on the rack. He just couldn’t think of a way around Tan’s reasoning.
“I’m sure you can let yourself out,” he told the spymaster. “Do try to find out who’s going to kill our King before they actually do it.”
Tan pulled the door open and fixed Bauti with his watery glare.
“As long as you promise to keep him alive long enough for me to do so. You’ll have to take your eyes off the Princess long enough to protect the King.”
He slammed the door on the way out.
Bauti lurched from his chair, sending it crashing into the wall. He paced the confines of his chambers, scratching his chin.
As he thought, he calmed. He would keep a guard on Ashai. The new Minister of Finance required protection. There was an assassin in the palace, after all. No one was safe. That guard could keep an eye on their newest Council member.
In the meantime, Bauti would contact an old friend in Brynn. He would see what information his friend could dig up on a cloth merchant named Ashai.