The Price of Freedom (Heirs of the Empire #2)

7. Lukas

7

LUKAS

W hen Lukas returns to Abul’s room, there is no one there other than Abul, still lying abed. The room is cleared of the dinner things and extra chairs.

Abul looks as if he might be sleeping, but as Lukas approaches the bed, Abul’s eyes open.

“Ah, Lucky. My own prince.”

“You wanted to see me, Sire,” Lukas says, pulling up a wooden chair to sit himself beside the bed.

“You were quiet at dinner. For the most part.”

Lukas shrugs. “Your family does not give many chances for others to speak when they are all in one place.”

Abul looks at Lukas for some time, as if assessing something, before he says, “Earlier today,” Abul says, “I had to make a difficult decision. As leader, I have to make many.”

Lukas nods, wondering if this is related to some of the interesting things Abul said at dinner. The things about Lukas being one of his potential heirs.

Abul continues. “We had an issue regarding stealing. You know our punishment for stealing, Lucky?”

Lukas looks down at his hook. “We follow the same laws as the Empire for such crimes. Persistent thieves lose a hand. Although I do not think this has ever been carried out here. The threat of it has always been enough.” He swallows.

“The thief was Jenna. A spirited young maid. You know her?”

Lukas nods. He does.

“Jenna had been stealing bread. Often. Because of my health, Inga was charged with speaking for me earlier today. She decided Jenna should lose a hand for it.”

“Very well,” says Lukas, although he feels sick at the thought. “Surely, for stealing bread a lashing would be more appropriate. Bread is… it is only bread.”

“I would agree. And so did Inga at first. But Jenna refused to take the lashing she was given initially. The original sentence was twenty lashes.”

Lukas huffs out a breath. “Twenty, Zai’s cock, twenty lashes. Really?”

“Inga insisted that she had given out such a harsh punishment because bread’s scarce.”

Lukas nods. The Mortingales had always had to be strict about food rationing. And since the Imperial Army drove so many farmers and peasants out of the mountains, there were often lean times.

Abul continues, “When Inga sentenced her, Jenna refused and insisted on taking the punishment as laid out in our statutes.”

Lukas sucks in a breath. “She asked to lose her hand?”

Abul nods. “She chose losing her hand over the twenty lashes. Inga agreed. When the new sentence was pronounced, Jenna’s mother stepped up and demanded stead. That is acceptable circumstances for granting stead, so Inga sanctioned that Jenna’s mother would lose her hand in her daughter’s place.” Abul pauses, before saying, “That was when Suriel, who I had sent to observe Inga’s progress, came to me and alerted me to what was happening. Can you tell me what I did?”

“Jenna’s mother…?” Lukas says. “The Old Goat?”

“Indeed.”

“The Old Goat is our best seamstress,” Lukas says. “So…It was a plan. They planned it together. The pair of them, when Jenna was caught stealing. The Old Goat told her to refuse the lashing and ask for the punishment in the statutes. And then The Old Goat would ask for stead, assuming it could not be granted. They probably didn’t realise Inga would be stupid enough to cut the hand off our best seamstress.”

“I believe that when Suriel told Inga what you’ve just told me Inga’s reaction was to say she would get another seamstress.”

“Oh Zai,” Lukas says on a breath. “Did she go through with it?”

Abul shakes his head. “I think if Inga held her own axe The Old Goat would now be missing a hand and we would be missing a seamstress. But Little Lamb is less hot-headed than my daughter.” Abul smiles wryly. “In some matters. Lamb refused to carry out the sentence until Suriel had sought my counsel. So, of course, I had to force my weak bones from this bed and attend court. What do you think my decision was?”

“I think you pardoned her,” Lukas says.

“Really? Pardoned her? She stole bread.”

“What else could you do? Inga accepted the stead. But you cannot take the hand of our best seamstress. Their plan worked. Next time the punishment should have stayed at the lashing.”

“Is that the only reason you think I gave her a pardon?”

“Not the only one,” says Lukas. “I think you also meant to send a message to Inga. You had her stand down as your deputy. When I came to the inner circle it was later in the day, Suriel was holding court.”

“Indeed,” says Abul. “Inga was not happy to yield to Suriel. But I have many concerns about Inga. I am unsure if she has the wisdom to lead. She is too vicious and too concerned with her own petty grievances. I am forced to consider that I have no possible heir amongst my children. I have been blinded by my desire to look only to my own blood kin. And why should I be so limited? I was not the blood kin of Conwen when he named me his successor. Many expected his son to be his heir, but he named me. And the events of this day have proved to me that I should follow Conwen’s example. When I included you as one of my potential heirs this evening, it was not only to inflame Inga. Blood does not matter, competence does. Today, I see Inga making yet another misstep, while you bring me the best new opportunity in many moons.” He pauses. For a moment he looks a lot older, like this conversation is exhausting him.

“Sire, it is late,” Lukas says, “Should I leave you to rest?”

“Shortly,” Abul says. “But first, tell me, how do you feel about the mission I have assigned you tonight? It will be dangerous for you to return to Lunatum. There may still be a price on your head there.”

“There maybe. But it has been a year since I set foot in that city. If I am cautious, I doubt anyone will know me.”

“Very well,” says Abul. “And how do you feel about the party I have assembled for the mission? You may speak frankly.”

Lukas takes a breath. “It will be difficult for me to work under Inga. Inga believes me guilty of treason. I will not do well with her in command.”

Abul holds up a finger. “Inga does not suspect you of treason. She simply believes that I will name you as my successor. A role she thinks should be hers.”

“I’m not sure it is only that, Sire. Inga and Red Wolf’s mother died in the purge. And I will also have trouble with Little Lamb. His brother was at the Rose Palace.”

“It is not sheer chance or blind ignorance that I have bid you work with Inga and Little Lamb. Little Lamb, perhaps, does think you a traitor. But you must win him over. If you can gain his trust, you gain them all. That is why I am giving you this assignment. I want you to take this opportunity to rebuild yourself in the eyes of your biggest detractors. Inga and Little Lamb will see your skills and be reminded why you were always such a key member of the Mortingales inner circle. This will help smooth the way if I name you as heir. You are the obvious choice.”

Lukas draws in a sharp breath. He is unsure why Abul would ever declare him the obvious choice. “That will never work, Sire. The Mortingales will never accept me. Not after what happened. They hold me responsible.”

“You worry too much about this Lucky. This notion that all the Mortingales condemn you as a traitor is mostly in your own mind. You have done much this last year to rebuild trust.”

“Perhaps,” says Lukas, “but I cannot ever change where I came from.”

“None of us can, Lucky. I have led the Mortingales these past twenty years. And I am a traitor myself. I was a soldier in the Imperial Army and I turned against them to fight for something real. I betrayed the very people who took me in when I was just a peasant from Ragspit, just as you betrayed your royal father in the name of freedom. Perhaps that is why we have an affinity.”

“But you did not turn against the Mortingales.”

“Nor did you,” says Abul.

“Sire, even if I could win back their trust, it would not be enough. I am ruined. I can no longer fight.”

Abul waves this away. “You were the greatest man with a sword I ever saw.”

“And now I have no hand to hold a sword,” Lukas says heavily.

“You will learn to use the other hand in time. And you have your hook too. I have every faith you will be our formidable Lucky once more.”

Lukas cannot think what to say. He cannot fathom why Abul has such faith in his ability to heal. It has been a year and he has still not found the courage to even attempt holding a sword in his left hand. Nevertheless, this chance is beyond anything he ever imagined he could win back. Leader of the Mortingales. “You honour me, Sire.”

“But you must prove yourself worthy. To me and to your fellow Mortingales. So, I have a small test. I have had these papers prepared myself.” He points to a scroll on the table beside his bed. “It is an agreement between the Mortingales and the Plumians. A declaration that we fight on the same side and will form an alliance to take Attar in the name of freedom and liberate the Azurian Empire from the despotic rule of the Darek family and the laws of Zai.”

Lukas picks up the scroll and unfurls it. It is as Abul described. Abul’s wax seal and signature are at the bottom. Next to is a space for the Plumian envoy to sign.

“And you wish me to persuade the Plumians to endorse this? I do not know that they will. I have not met this envoy before. I do not know how easy he will be to persuade, even with the gift of the son of the Warden of Pluma-Ferris.”

“That is why I am sending Red Wolf with you. He is not there merely for solace when you tire of Inga and Little Lamb’s spiteful remarks. As I said, Red Wolf is no fighter. But he is very good at politics. Let him speak for us.”

Lukas nods. He has no idea how difficult this task he is being charged with will truly be. He is much more concerned with having to deal with Inga and Little Lamb than the task he will face at the end of the journey. Is Elric Underlia enough of a prize to persuade the Plumians to agree to this? He is not sure. But he nods, rolling up the scroll and stowing it inside his shirt.

“If you do this, Lucky, and bring the agreement back to me, that will be the sign I need and the evidence I will use to endorse you to the Mortingales as their new leader. You will take my mantle. A Darek Bastard. A son of the Rose Palace, leading the attacks against their filthy—” Abul breaks off into coughing. Lukas picks up a cup beside the bed and helps Abul to drink.

Lukas’s mind is spinning. He thought Elric might win him a place in the inner circle. But this is far beyond that. And if he could command the Mortingales himself, with the Plumian fighters at their side they could return to Attar, the site of his biggest failure. To storm the Rose Palace. To kill Emperor Selim as he should have done five years ago. When he has Abul settled he says, “Sire, I will do all I can.”

“But you must complete this mission. You must bring me the Plumians. If you do not. I will have no choice but to let Inga be my heir.”

“If you name Inga you know she will never let me remain here.”

“I know that, Lucky.”

“Very well, Sire,” Lukas says. “I thank you for entrusting me with this.”