“Ah!” Hugh nodded in sudden understanding. “And so they decide to get rid of one heir, now that there’s another on the way. What about the enchantment?”
“Trian broke it. Ten years of study it took him, but he managed at last. Now Stephen was able to”-Alfred halted, stammering in confusion-“to . . .”
“. . . hire an assassin to kill him. How long have you known?”
“From the first.” Alfred flushed. “It was why I followed you.”
“And you would have tried to stop me?”
“I’m not certain.” Alfred’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head confusedly. “I … don’t know.”
A dark seed fell into Hugh’s mind and took root. It grew fast, twisting around his brain, flowering and bearing a noxious fruit. I decided to break the contract. Why? Because the boy is more valuable alive than dead. But so were a number of men I contracted to kill. I never before broke faith. I never before broke a contract, though sometimes I could have made ten times the fee paid me. Why now? I risked my own life to rescue the bastard! I couldn’t kill him after he tried to kill me!
What if the enchantment isn’t broken? What if Bane is still manipulating all of us, beginning with King Stephen?
Hugh looked intently at Alfred. “And what’s the truth about you, chamberlain?”
“You see it before you, sir, I am afraid,” said Alfred humbly, spreading his hands. “I have been in service all my life. I was with Her Royal Highness’s family at their castle in Uylandia. When Her Majesty became queen, she was kind enough to bring me with her.” A slow flush spread over Alfred’s face. His eyes sought the deck. He plucked nervously at the shabby clothing with his clumsy fingers.
Lying does not come easily for this man, not like it does for the child, thought Hugh. Yet, like the child, Alfred is, seemingly, living a lie.
The assassin let it drop, closing his eyes. His shoulder pained him, he felt queasy and lethargic, effects of both the poison and the heavy air pressure. Thinking of all that had passed, he twisted his lips into a bitter smile. Worst of all, his hands smeared red with the blood of countless men, he who had proudly believed himself to be masterless had been mastered-by a child.
Prince Bane poked his head back through the shattered side of the ship. “I think I see it. The great machine! It’s off in the distance, that direction. You can’t see it now, because the clouds have covered it. But I remember the way. Let’s go there now! After all, how can it be dangerous? It’s only rain-”
A bolt of lightning sizzled from sky to ground, blasting a hole in the coralite. The thunderclap shook the ground and nearly knocked the boy over.
“That’s why,” said Hugh.
Another lightning bolt struck with shattering force. Bane shot across the deck and crouched down beside Alfred. Rain pounded on the hull. Hail beat on it with deafening ferocity. Soon, water began pouring in through the cracks in the smashed timber. Bane’s eyes were wide, his face pale, but he didn’t cry out. When he saw his hands were trembling, he clasped them together tightly. Looking at the boy, Hugh saw himself long ago, battling fear with pride-the only weapon in his arsenal.
And it occurred to him that perhaps this was just what Bane wanted him to see.
The assassin fingered the hilt of his sword. It would take only a few seconds. Grasp it, wield it, thrust it deep into the boy’s body. If he was going to be stopped by magic, then he wanted to see it act, know for certain.
Or perhaps he had seen it already.
Hugh moved his hand away from the sword. Lifting his pipe, he saw Bane watching him. The boy’s lips curved in a sweet, charming smile.
CHAPTER 29
WOMBE, DREVLIN, LOW REALM
THE HIGH FROMAN WAS HAVING A SAD TIME OF IT. HE WAS BEING PLAGUED BY GODS. Literally dropping from the skies, gods rained down on his defenseless head. Nothing was going right. His once-peaceful realm that had not known a whisper of trouble in the last several centuries was now running amok.