The Warden

Chapter 34

"Yes, but it's only speculation. We may have found them again but we have lost them all in the same instant. With the signing of the treaty, the humans will be expecting the eventual extinction of the wight queen and all her ilk, and, with her extermination, they will naturally expect all the wight related deaths to cease. What do you think they'll do when they don't?"

Charlan stood near the door. Her fists clenched and her fingernails bit into the heels of her hands. They both whispered but their ears were so finely attuned that no matter the distance they would hear each other.

"You agreed with my decision to push the treaty with the humans," hissed Charlan, her features contorting. "You believed the risks were worth the rewards. Everyone heard you say so. Do not dare throw all the blame on me. It has worked and it will work. Now that a new Warden is made, where do you suppose Kyla will bring him? Hmmm?" She thrust a finger toward the stone parquetry. "Right here. Right into our waiting hands. And once we have the Warden, the treaty will be inconsequential. We'll be able to build up an army of lesser Wardens and we'll no longer have to fear our discovery during daylight hours."

Cutting off her words, she turned about, nose in the air, sniffing for any change in the stillness or any scent that might have betrayed an unknown listening ear. Only ash and cool sea air. The usual scents of the room.

You foolish twit, she thought, scolding herself. Never talk about that here. Never.

If the sovereigns had spies listening, they would be that much closer to discovering the one thing they must never know.

"If that isn't evidence enough," said Lord Markham, head wagging back and forth. "I don't know what is."

"What are you talking about, you old fool?" asked Charlan, stalking back toward him, but pulling up short with his next words.

"The fact that you would talk so openly about something so sensitive, in enemy territory no less, only goes to prove your declining fitness to serve alone as our leader."

One more bolt in his quiver, thought Charlan, scowling, annoyed with herself. Stupid!

"Lord Markham, you have already, out of the goodness of your heart, insisted that I share with you everything I receive from our intelligence network, and, not only that, that I await your guidance in all matters. You are a leader, if not in name, at least in function. What do you gain from being recognized openly as my second-in-command? You're not thinking of arranging an accident for me, are you? Then humbly stepping into my position when I'm gone?"

It was no different than what Charlan was planning for Lord Markham. Who will execute their plan first, I wonder?

Putting a hand to his heart, Lord Markham's mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. "Mistress, how could you think something so vile of me? I, who has been with you since the beginning. I, who supported you in your plan against your own son..."

"Only because you saw how it could be used to your own advantage."

He ignored her commentary. "And comforted you in your grief when he was gone. How could you think that of me?"

Jumping the last two steps that separated them, Charlan grabbed Lord Markham by the front of his well-tailored doublet.

"Now, you listen to me, you cocky little clod..."

"No, you listen to me," said Lord Markham, cutting off the barrage of insults she had prepared, while delicately extricating himself from her grip. "You have done an excellent job up to this point. For Wilo's sake, you're the one that even discovered deals could be struck with Manu. You deserve all the credit for that one. And even though it was an accident, and a lucky one at that, you're the one who discovered the beneficial effects of corrupting the Wardenhood with mesmer. Jolly good show and all that." He stepped back to dust and straighten his doublet. "But let's be frank, you've outlived your usefulness. You've gotten sloppy and overconfident. And almost have become as wild as your idiot son. It's time you stepped down and let someone who actually was in line for the throne, someone who knows how to lead other than by fear or aggression, take the reins. I would prefer not to kill you. I think it would be much more dignified if you took your own life." He brushed his doublet once again, a soft scraping sound arising as his palms slid over the fine material. "But who am I to dictate to you."

Bowing slightly, he disappeared into the chimney's shadows.

Charlan stood alone in the dark. Not breathing. Motionless.

I can't kill him myself, she thought. Not while he had the support of so many. They would never allow her that.

Her gaze went to the wall where Captain Ansleth used to hide. Charlan's small insurance during her little chats with Lord Markham. She would never hide there again. Not if what Charlan thought had happened actually had. The Warden's lethalness was too efficient.

A perfect waste of a superior instrument, she thought, sniffing. At least it was thrown away for something truly worthwhile.

Pausing, cocking her hip, a thought began to grow in her mind, quickly sprouting and promising to bear sweet fruit. A grin twitched in the corner of her mouth as she sampled that sugary promise.

Maybe having the Warden roaming free for a time could be useful, mused Charlan. If Lord Markham could be accidentally led into his path...

A chuckle gurgled from her, before she cupped a hand over her mouth and nose. Rust flowed into her nostrils, at this moment a comforting scent, helping her shoulders relax. Stepping to the fireplace, she disappeared up the chimney with a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eye.

*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*