The Devil's Armour (Gollancz S.F.) Read Online Free Page A

door, listening. Angrily Uralak cleared his throat.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he whispered.
    Lariza straightened indignantly. ‘I’m worried about Poppy. The king is in there with her, but I haven’t heard a sound from them in hours. And I didn’t see Captain Jarrin leave, either.’
    Uralak nodded as if nothing were wrong. ‘Did the king give you permission to disturb him?’
    ‘Of course not,’ replied Lariza sourly.
    ‘Right. So why don’t you stop meddling, woman, and be on your way. I’ll look after the king. Go now.’
    The nursemaid started to protest, then decided not to be quarrelsome. She said only, ‘Make sure the child is all right, old man,’ then turned and departed. Uralak waited until she was well out of sight around the bend, then followed her a bit to make sure she was truly gone before doubling back. Lariza was right – the king’s chambers were strangelysoundless. Once more he contemplated the dark possibilities. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, then knocked on the door.
    ‘My lord?’ he queried. ‘It’s Uralak. Forgive the disturbance, please, but I thought I should check on you.’
    There was no reply. Hoping the king was sleeping, he pushed open the door and peered inside.
    ‘My lord?’
    Except for the moonlight from the unshuttered windows, the vast chamber was dark. Uralak opened the door wider to let in the hallway’s torchlight. It took a moment for his old eyes to adjust as he cautiously shuffled into the room. Not sure why, he closed the door behind him. Whatever he was to discover, he wanted to find it alone. The light of the moon was feeble but enough for him to get his bearings, and as he moved deeper into the chamber he saw the dark outline of Poppy’s crib against a far wall, safely distant from the window. Then he saw the table overturned and shards of shattered crystal twinkling on the floor. What looked like blood or wine or both stained the wood, spreading out in a dull pool of scarlet. A sweet stench assailed Uralak’s nostrils. He paused, trying to unravel what had happened. Oddly, he was not afraid. Since the news of Duke Rihards’ betrayal, he had expected this night, or one like it.
    ‘My lord?’ he asked softly, sure that his master wouldn’t answer. Walking in tiny steps, he made his way across the chamber, carefully avoiding the glass and blood as he made his way to the king’s dressing chamber, led there by a slick of crimson. This chamber was windowless, and without a lamp Uralak felt blind. He did his best to decipher the darkness, but once he reached the threshold he stopped.
    There on the floor, naked and bloody, was a body. Headless.
    Uralak stared at the corpse. Horrified, he wondered if it was the master’s. The mutilated cadaver lay on its back, seemingly all its blood spilled from its severed stump of a neck onto the carpeted floor. Ridiculously, Uralak thoughtabout the expensive rug and how it would never be the same. Reality blurred, and the old man did not know what to do. It was a large corpse, large enough to be the king.
    But Uralak did not stay to investigate further, or to search for the missing head or even to bother wondering why the corpse was naked. He simply backed out of the dressing chamber, paused in the main room where the broken table and goblets littered the floor, and composed himself. He could not begin to conceive the plans of his lord and master, and had never tried. King Lorn the Wicked had earned his epithet rightfully. Uralak had never faulted him for that. His only concern was how he would explain things to the other soldiers now that their garrison commander was missing. Without Lorn and Captain Jarrin, their defeat was assured. By tomorrow, certainly, they would be dead.
    Ever the loyal servant, it took only a moment for Uralak to resign himself to this. When he was ready, he left the dark and bloody chamber and went in search of Lieutenant Vadrick, who he supposed was in command now.
    They travelled by