Although both warriors continued to stare at their blades, she could sense the alert jolt that ran through them.
“I am wearing red — impossible to see in the dark. I will climb around there under the balustrade and listen in.” Her blood was exulting. Something to do. Secretly she prayed that the one whispering from above was Rihanne — which was likely, given her rival’s treasonous tendencies, and the fact that that was the concubines’ terrace.
“No,” Limaq stated unequivocally.
Alanna drew breath to argue.
“Touch my blade and cut yourself,” Zander instructed gruffly. “Wail accusations. Limaq will dismiss me at your behest. I will go and listen.”
Alanna stared at him. Zander rivalled his Tahl in his level of verboseness. “How?” Her Zalmat were not allowed into the concubines’ wing. “And what if they are speaking Sianese?”
“Now,” insisted Zander, throwing a glance at his sword-brother. “Be careful, though. My blade is sharper than Limaq’s.”
The snort from her chief bodyguard drew another gurgle of laughter from her, and Alanna used her mirth, learning forwards, ‘accidentally’ catching her finger against the gleaming metal edge and rearing back on a true gasp.
“Ow!” It was sharp.
A minute later, one of her attendants was bandaging the shallow cut on her finger and Limaq was waiting in the doorway to her chambers, looking out for her replacement guard to arrive.
Alanna was trembling. “Out,” she ordered her hovering ladies on a hiss, flapping a dismissal that rivalled the Tahl-Mat’s for rudeness.
After one glance at her face, most of them scrabbled for their belongings and scurried to the door.
The buxom and interfering matron who had just tied up her finger sniffed and stated condescendingly, “I will remain until your relief guard arrives, lady.”
A resounding slap brought Limaq’s head around sharply. His lips twitched at the outraged expression on the Lady Dohmat’s face. Her condescension to the Tahl-maia had been getting more and more overbearing since the Tahl had left. Officially left.
“My guard’s place is in that doorway until that relief joins him,” hissed the Kjell princess, magnificent eyes aflame as she stalked the wobbling lady around a divan, hands up in strike position. “I think you need a reminder of yours.”
The slender figure feinted forwards and the buxom matron turned and fled, clutching her burning cheek and huffing indignantly.
The princess came to stand at Limaq’s shoulder, peering past him down the corridor. “What now?” she murmured.
A sound behind her and Alanna spun, just biting back a gasp as Zander stepped, stooping, out of the widening crack of the secret door at the foot of her dais. He beckoned urgently, a finger to his lips.
She darted across the room.
*
Disappointingly, it wasn’t Rihanne whispering in the wisteria, but Rihanne’s notoriously skilled countrywoman, and Beguine. Alanna’s hand was tightening and tightening on Zander’s arm while she listened with fierce concentration, straining to hear over the distance and through the vegetation. Luckily the Norweig guard spoke Sianese worse than Alanna did, the hissing words were easy to interpret, but they made her stomach churn.
*
Zander returned her by the secret ways to her bedroom where she disappeared onto the curtained bed, watched silently by Limaq but invisible to the other zalmat. Shortly afterwards, Zander stalked back in by the door, without knocking. Limaq started to his feet with a sharp question, but Zander ignored him, growling a dismissal at the junior guard. Wide-eyed, the younger man looked between the two glowering captains, and then stammered out a farewell while he bowed himself out.
Alanna took Xanir’s closest friends back to her terrace, face pale, and recited what she had heard word for word, and then repeated the words in Tahlm’ese. Firmly she squashed the tingle in her spine at the look that passed between the two guards when they realised that she was quoting verbatim and translating fluently; born with a phenomenal memory, she had been trained her whole life to both utilise and hide her skills. She bit her lip. But this was for Xanir.
“‘The fleet is ready,” repeated Limaq softly. Zander turned his head to look out over the city.
“Yes,” said Alanna. “‘The powder is uncovered. The fleet is ready’,” she quoted again. “‘The signal has been sent. You must leave tonight.’.”
Limaq cast a sharp look at the zigzag profile of Xanir’s chief bodyguard. Zander glanced at him sideways, something passing between them.
“If Beguine leaves tonight,” mused Limaq. “Although it will be close-run, we can challenge his force before they reach Jaifa if he is going via Halbut as his mercenaries say.”
“Challenge with whom?” hissed Zander. “The bulk of the army is already in the south or Jaifa — Haman is calling the desert riders — only the home guard and Zalmat remain here, we cannot strip the palace. And I wouldn’t trust any of these yigbut not to turn anyway.”
Limaq rose to his feet. “Haman will have reached the first of the tribes, they will be en route; if we can intercept them we may still prevent Beguine joining Justin. We have to move.”
Zander yanked him back down, snarling, “But the desert route is not all. ‘The fleet is ready and the signal has been sent.’ A Sianese said this. You know what their destination will be. We have to warn Xanir, he is running right into their fleet.”
Limaq whispered back, equally furious, “And if we don’t intercept Beguine those mercenary sappers will breach the city before Xan gets there, trapping him in the bay. Besides, as soon as either of us rides from here, one of this damn nest of traitors will follow. West, no-one will find us in the sands, or suspect. If we head to the Kural Coast, to him, they will guess and simply watch the cape. They will massacre him.”
The sword-brothers stared at each other, eyes aflame. Zander’s face settled into hard lines, his frown piercing his companion. Limaq hardened his jaw, and nodded.
Alanna’s scalp jumped when Zander suddenly fastened that scowl on her, eyes piercing. “You love Xanir? You swear to remain silent whatever?”
She gulped. Nodded herself, wordlessly. He continued to stare imperiously, trying to read her mind, until she cleared her throat, and croaked, “I swear.”
“He said to trust her,” added Limaq.
Eyes narrowed, the captain of Xanir’s guard nodded back an acknowledgement at Alanna. A second later she could not hold back a squeak when Zander’s sword flashed out almost faster than she could follow, the side slamming wincingly hard into the side of Limaq’s cheek, catapulting him head-over-heels.
Even as she stumbled backwards, mouth agape, Limaq rolled to his feet, his own blade hissing out and the swords clashed with a ringing clang.
Zander called, and the door burst open, guards pouring onto the terrace, more than just her Zalmat. The captain and former captain were circling like wolves, whipping at each other, and the other warriors seemed chary of closing with them.
“Traitor,” snarled Zander at the man who had been his friend for a quarter century. Another faint squeak from Alanna, her hands over her mouth when Omar darted in to slam the flat of his blade toward Limaq’s temple from behind; Limaq spun faster than thought and disarmed his colleague. Zander took advantage of the distraction to break through Limaq’s guard with a ringing hiss of clashing blades.