Читать книгу The Alchemist's Daughter - Elaine Knighton - Страница 11

Acre

The palace of Henry, al-Kond Herri, King of Jerusalem

High summer, 1197

“M y lord Henry…can you be serious? To ally yourself—a bastion of Christianity—with Sinn, the heathen Grand Master of the Assassins? It is unthinkable!” Kalle’s fist thumped the table.

The company of Henry’s knights and noble advisors stirred, murmuring their disapproval of this outburst. Lucien remained silent, as he had throughout the meeting, but narrowed his eyes as FitzMalheury took a visible grip on his temper. “Surely it is not necessary for you, appointed as regent here by Richard himself, to make a pact with such a one?” Kalle asked.

Henry leaned back in his great chair and stared at Kalle. “You of all men should know the value of an alliance with them. They are deadly, but capable of reason, for they pay the Templars to leave them alone—and you should have seen what took place during our conversation at al-Kahf. Sinn demonstrated his power—he ordered two of his men to leap from atop the fortress. They did so without an instant’s hesitation and fell to their deaths upon the rocks below. I had to beg him not to repeat the spectacle…but I will ask you, Kalle—would you have shown me such unswerving loyalty?”

Henry tilted his head and did not wait for a reply. “Sinn offered me another sample of his skills…he thought surely there must be someone I would like them to murder.” Henry leaned toward FitzMalheury and smiled good-naturedly. “I declined, but of course, dear Kalle, you came to mind as a first candidate, being commander of the garrison as well as my closest rival.”

At this the company roared with laughter, but Lucien saw that Kalle’s mirth did not reach his eyes. The knight cleared his throat. “You flatter me with such a designation, my lord. But how you came by this opinion is quite beyond my understanding.”

He then gave Lucien a direct look. One that pierced him with its enmity and stirred his own desire for revenge. “There are other candidates for elimination. Indeed, there is a man present who spends so little time amongst his own kind, one wonders whose side he is on,” Kalle said softly, still looking at Lucien.

Lucien replied, his voice as velvet as Kalle’s, “And there is another present who gives his personal ambitions priority over the interests of his lord.”

“Enough,” Henry said firmly. “Sinn is someone I want to be close enough to that I may keep an eye on him. I need not adopt the ways of the Assassins, only learn what I may about them, to ensure the safety of others.”

Kalle stood and bowed. “As you will, my lord. I am yours to command, as ever.”

At Henry’s nod of dismissal, the group began to break up. Lucien was halfway to the door when Kalle stopped him.

“Never challenge my honor like that again, Lucien, or I will make you sorry you were ever born.”

Lucien squared his shoulders and looked down at Kalle. “Just be advised, my lord, I am loyal to Henry, and he knows it. And just because you have made an enemy of Deogal does not mean he is anyone else’s enemy.”

Kalle’s smile struck a perilous chord in Lucien. The man was like a rabid dog. And should be dealt with as such.

Kalle continued, “I shall have to pay the old man and his daughter a visit one of these days, hmm? See what progress he has made with the Work? Or perhaps you’d like to tell me yourself and spare him the pain?”

Lucien bristled. “Stay away from them. I will cut you to pieces if I catch you.”

Kalle laughed. “Of course. If you catch me. A very small likelihood. But nay…the thought of playing inquisitor with you appeals to me much more. After all, Deogal would not last more than a day or two as my…guest. And what Isidora is likely to know is hardly worth the sweat of finding it out…whereas you, Lucien, could prove entertaining, indeed. So have a care, the next shadow you see might not be your own, eh?”

Isidora wondered at the change in Lucien when he returned from the court of al-Kond Herri…his somber moods, his rude questioning of her servants about who they saw and to whom they spoke from outside, his pacing and restless nights….

His evident distraction even caught her father’s notice. “What is wrong with him?” Deogal frowned as he dipped a piece of bread into his bowl of sauce.

Isidora shrugged. “Perhaps he is ready to move on, at last. Perhaps he longs for home.”

“He cannot! Not at this stage of the Work. We are just purifying the red essence of— Never mind. Just tell him I want to see him after vespers.” Deogal pushed his half-eaten food aside and stalked back to his quarters.

Isidora stared at the carved marble bowl her father had abandoned and worry yet again twisted within her. He ate less and less, looked more and more haggard. She felt so helpless. How could she stop his decline? He paid her no attention, found her concern an annoyance.

“Isidora?”

That smooth voice, from behind. Lucien. She closed her eyes and did not move. She could not quite face him with her fears still so evident. “Aye? There is food left, should you want it.”

“Has all been quiet? Nothing amiss?”

“Nothing.”

“Why do you keep your back to me? What is wrong?”

At last she turned around. His beautiful face was limned by the golden glow of the oil lamps, accentuating the hollows of his cheeks. He, too, was in a decline. “Why don’t you tell me? You are the one who knows what is going on, Lucien. You have known for months and are making all of us miserable as a result.”

Lucien put his hand to his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose. His fingers quivered, and her alarm grew. “What is it? What has happened?”

He met her gaze. “Tonight you will hear a clamor, for the city will be in mourning, as soon as word spreads. Henry is dead.”

A sense of cold struck her, as if she had jumped into the winter sea. “What? How can this be?”

“He fell to his death…from a window in his palace. Kalle FitzMalheury has taken charge, only until a succession is sorted out, or so he says. I have little hope that this was an accident, Isidora. You and your father are in danger with Kalle now free to run wild.”

“He is no threat to us. We have friends more powerful than he, and well does he know it.”

“You do not know what he has become, Isidora. He is growing inside of himself, like an abscess of pride and corrupt power.”

“Then lance him,” she replied, shocked at her own bluntness.

Then Lucien shocked her even more when he caught her shoulders in a firm, warm grip. Her surprise kept her in place, as well as the dizzying effect of his nearness.

“Do not speak so,” he said. “I expect better of you. I would like…” His voice trailed away and the muscles in his jaw clenched as he searched her eyes.

Her belly tightened in an unfamiliar way. She felt an in visible pull, as if from his body to hers, and the tension grew until it was all she could do not to either break from his grasp and run or throw herself into his arms. “What would you like?” Isidora prompted, and yet held herself still and stiff, and closed her eyes against his gaze.

His voice emerged in a low growl. “I’d like to be finished here. Done with this place. I need to go home.”

Isidora’s cheeks burned as though he had slapped her. Why did she take his remarks personally? She did not care. Indeed had she not been looking forward to the day this troublesome knight left at last? But she had more than herself to consider. “You cannot go. M-my father needs you still.”

“Look at me, Isidora.” When she was focused on his flame-lit, blue eyes, he continued. “We are close to the Elixir. Very close. But the slightest mishap could make us have to start all over again. I am but trying to protect him, and the Work…and you. Should anything befall him, or me, all will be lost. Indeed, I cannot think why he has not included you, to ensure preservation of our progress, but I am sworn to secrecy and must respect his wishes.”

As she allowed the truth to rise within her, Isidora began to tremble. “You know, Lucien, he chooses to believe my mother yet lives…that he can still restore her to health with the Elixir. That desire is all that keeps him going. If one day he wakes up and remembers that she is dead, he, too, will die.”

Then the unthinkable happened. Lucien drew her close, wrapped his arms about her and held her to his chest, as if she were precious to him. “I won’t leave, unless you command me to go.”

Here was the moment of his obedience…she could tell him, right now, to be gone from her home, her life, her heart. But instead she replied, “You have our thanks, sir. My father is too proud to say it, but I say it on his behalf.” That was all there was to it. All there would ever be. Her father and his needs.

Lucien eased away from her and bowed, his bright hair gleaming. “I will go once more and find out the state of things in the city.” Shouldering his sword, he disappeared out the door into the darkness. He did not return that night or the next.

Weeks passed, then months…her inquiries met with no results. It was as though he had been swallowed up in the ensuing maelstrom of grief and confusion that whirled through the streets after Henry’s death became known. Perhaps Lucien had decided to go home, after all.

But Isidora knew that was not the case. And she had a good idea of where to go to next for answers.