Two weeks later, Finadd Gerun Eberict, his breath whistling through the new gap in his front teeth, knelt before Ezgara Diskanar in the throne room, and before the assembled masses was granted the King’s Leave. For the remainder of the soldier’s life, he was immune to criminal conviction. He was, in short, free to do as he pleased, to whomever he pleased, barring the king’s own line.
The identity of the person behind the assassination attempt was never discovered.
Since then, Gerun Eberict had been on a private crusade. A lone, implacable vigilante. He was known to have personally murdered thirty-one citizens, including two wealthy, highly respected and politically powerful merchants, and at least a dozen other mysterious deaths were commonly attributed to him. He had, in short, become the most feared man in Letheras.
He had also, in that time, made himself rich.
Yet, for all that, he remained a Finadd in the King’s Guard, and so was bound to the usual responsibilities. Brys Beddict suspected the decision to send Gerun Eberict with the delegation was as much to relieve the city of the pressure of his presence as it was a statement to the queen and the prince. And Brys wondered if the king had come to regret his sanction.
The two palace guards walked side by side across Soulan Bridge and into the Pursers’ District. The day was hot, the sky white with thin, high clouds. They entered Rild’s, an establishment known for its fish cuisine, as well as an alcoholic drink made from orange rinds, honey and Tusked Seal sperm. They sat in the inner courtyard, at Gerun’s private table.
As soon as drinks and lunch were ordered, Gerun Eberict leaned back in his chair and regarded Brys with curiosity. ‘Is my guest this day the King’s Champion?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ Brys admitted. ‘My brother, Hull, is accompanying Buruk the Pale. It is believed that Buruk will remain with the Edur until the Great Meeting. There is concern about Hull.’
‘What kind of concern?’
‘Well, you knew him years ago.’
‘I did. Rather well, in fact. He was my Finadd back then. And upon my promotion, he and I got roaring drunk at Porul’s and likely sired a dozen bastards each with a visiting troupe of flower dancers from Trate. In any case, the company folded about ten months later, or so we heard.’
‘Yes, well. He’s not the same man, you know.’
‘Isn’t he?’
The drinks arrived, an amber wine for Brys, the Tusked Milk for Gerun.
‘No,’ Brys said in answer to the Finadd’s question, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Hull believes in one thing, and that is loyalty. The only gift he feels is worth giving. Granted, it was sorely abused, and the legacy of that is a new list in your brother’s head, with the names of every man and woman who betrayed him.’ Gerun tossed back his drink and gestured for another one. ‘The only difference between him and me is that I’m able to cross names off my list.’
‘And what if,’ Brys said quietly, ‘the king’s name is on Hull’s list?’ Gerun’s eyes went flat. ‘As I said, I’m the only one crossing off names.’
‘Then why is Hull with Buruk the Pale?’
‘Buruk is not the king’s man, Brys. The very opposite, in fact. I look forward to finally meeting him.’
A cold chill ran through Brys.
‘In any case,’ Gerun went on, ‘it’s your other brother who interests me.’
‘Tehol? Don’t tell me he’s on your list.’
Gerun smiled, revealing the sideways tilt of his upper and lower teeth. ‘And I’d tell you if he was? Relax, he isn’t. Not yet, in any case. But he’s up to something.’
‘I find that hard to believe. Tehol stopped being up to anything a long time ago.’
‘That’s what you think.’
‘I know nothing to suggest otherwise, but it seems that you do.’
Gerun’s second drink arrived. ‘Were you aware,’ the Finadd said, dipping a finger into the thick, viscid liquid, ‘that Tehol still possesses myriad interests, in property, licences, mercantile investments and transportation? He’s raised pretty solid fronts, enough to be fairly sure that no-one else knows that he’s remained active.’
‘Not solid enough, it seems.’
Gerun shrugged. ‘In many ways, Tehol walked the path of the King’s Leave long before me, and without the actual sanction.’
‘Tehol’s never killed anyone-’
Gerun’s smile grew feral. ‘The day the Tolls collapsed, Brys, an even dozen financiers committed suicide. And that collapse was solely and exclusively by Tehol’s hand. Perfectly, indeed brilliantly timed. He had his own list, only he didn’t stick a knife in their throats; instead, he made them all his business partners. And took every one of them down-’
