Master and Fool by J. V. Jones

fell on her
like an animal. Teeth became fangs and fingers became talons. Blackness came to
overwhelm him, and by fighting the girl he fought the monster off. If she
screamed, he never heard it; if she struggled, he never noticed. All he felt
was the cooling spray of her blood on his cheek and the feeble push of her
second to last breath. By the time she took her last, he had clawed his way
back to the light. Gut rested against liver once more and the pressure had
lifted from his head. A trickle of his own blood had run down from his nose,
and he spat in a cloth to remove the aftertaste from his mouth.
    "A missive
has arrived from Halcus, sire."
    Kylock spun
around. He had not heard the guard approach. As the man handed him the sealed
parchment, he noticed the guard's eyes fall to his tunic. The girl's blood
formed a dark patch upon the gold. Kylock spoke very softly. "Blood
spilled in secret is a bond between men. Go now, my friend, and tell no one of
what you saw."
    The man fell to
the floor. "Sire, I would spill an army's worth of blood on your
saying."
    Kylock nodded
softly and gestured for the man to rise. "Your loyalty will not be
forgotten."
    The man bowed and
walked away.
    Kylock smiled.
Every day he discovered new powers that were made for kings alone. The ability
to inspire unquestioning loyalty was a gift straight from the gods. What men
would not do for money, they would do in an instant if it was a matter of
belief. His men had faith in him: he won wars, took risks, and was hated by his
enemies. He promised his men spoils and made sure that they got them: women or
children, whatever their tastes. Gold, grain, appointments ... destruction if
they fancied. A town set alight in a frenzy of blood-lust was often the best
reward after a day on the field. Nothing inspired greater contempt for the
enemy than watching them burn.
    Kylock broke the
wax seal. Yes, he had the loyalty of his men, and the contents of this letter
proved it.
    Tonight, just
before dawn, his mother would meet her death. Her castle in the Northlands
would be raided by a rogue Halcus war party. None would survive to tell the
tale. Kedrac, Maybor's eldest, had planned every detail, right down to the rape
and desecration of the dowager queen. The truly inspirational part had been his
own, though. The queen's body, when it was done with, was to be laid out on an
Annis banner. The implication would be that Halcus was working in conjunction
with the mountain city. The kingdoms would be outraged when the news came to
light, and support for his next move-which just happened to be the invasion of
Annis-would be all but guaranteed. What country would let the rape and murder
of its beloved, and so recently bereaved, queen go unavenged?
    Of course the
invasion of Annis would be merely a feint. His army would be needed elsewhere,
but it suited him to let his enemies believe that they were too entrenched in a
siege of honor to be moved. Kylock's eyes searched out the dark lines of the
battlements of Bren. It would be quite a surprise to all when his plans took
their final turn. Of course Annis would be his eventually anyway-a few months
here or there would make no difference in the end.
    Kylock read on.
Kedrac was clever enough to write in code. Not only had he arranged the queen's
demise, he'd also timed the conquering of the last Halcus towns to perfection.
Kylock was well pleased with Kedrac's work. It meant that the day he married
Catherine, he could present her with Halcus as her own. A magnificent gesture,
but an unworthy gift: nothing was too precious for Catherine.
    He couldn't wait
to meet her. He would come to Catherine as a free man. With his mother gone he
would be bound to no one. He would give himself wholly to his new bride, and
when he came and knelt at her feet, she would cleanse him forever of the taint
of the womb.
    Kylock turned back
toward the camp. His manservant knew him well enough to have heated some water
in his absence. He was dirty and