The War with the Mein Read Online Free Page B

hatred for Acacia was not news, certainly not to the chancellor. But what this soldier was telling him outstripped his imaginings.
    At Thaddeus’s urging the messenger consumed all the food on the plate. Another was brought, with cheese this time, the hard variety that had to be cut with a sharp knife. The chancellor sliced wedges for both of them, and then drew back with the blade in hand. He stared at his reflection in it as he listened.
    The messenger tried to fight away sleep, but as the night turned into the silent hours her eyelids drooped. “I fear I am failing,” she finally said, “but I have explained everything to you. May I now have an audience with the king? These things are meant for his ears.”
    At the mention of the king, Thaddeus had an unexpected thought, not at all what he would have anticipated at this moment. He recalled a day the previous summer when he had found Leodan in the labyrinthine gardens of the palace. The king sat on a stone bench in an alcove, hemmed in on both sides by the vine-draped ancient stone that had been the foundation of the first king’s more modest abode. His youngest son, Dariel, sat on his lap. Together they studied a small object held in the boy’s hand. As Thaddeus approached, the king looked up with wondrous, joy-filled eyes and said, “Thaddeus, come look. We have discovered an insect with spotted wings.” He said it like it was the most important thing in the world, as if he were a child just as much as his son. Thaddeus liked the king most during these clear-eyed, day-lit moments, with the royal eyes unclouded by the mist that hazed them each evening. At those dark times he could be a bore to sit next to, but with his children…well, with his children he was a fool who remembered youth. A wise fool who still found wonder in the world…
    “Chancellor?”
    Thaddeus started. He realized that they had both been sitting in silence. The messenger had been distracted by her fatigue just as he was caught up in random reveries. He felt the sharp point of the cheese knife where it pressed against his finger. He said, “The king must hear all of this within the hour. You say that General Alain sent you directly here? You have not spoken of this to the governors?”
    She answered crisply. “My message was meant for King Leodan.”
    “Just as it should be.” Thaddeus tugged on an earlobe. “Sit here a moment. I will arrange a meeting with the king. You have done us a great service.”
    The chancellor pushed himself up to his feet. He still held the knife, but he began to move away as if he had forgotten about it and carried it with him absently. As he passed the messenger’s chair and stepped behind her, he swung about. He flipped the knife around in his fingers and grasped the handle in a white-knuckled fist. At just the same moment that one hand clasped over the woman’s forehead, the other one slit her neck from left side to right. He had not been sure whether the tool would suffice for this purpose and he used more force than he had to. But the work was done. The messenger slumped forward without a word of protest. He stood for a moment just behind her, with the knife held out to one side, the whole blade of it and of the fist that held it stained a slow maroon. With conscious effort he willed his hand open. The weapon clattered to the floor and then lay still.
    Thaddeus was not entirely the loyal servant of the king that he seemed, and for the first time in his life he had demonstrated this fact with a blood act that could not be rescinded. The hard truth of this stunned him. He fought to steady himself and direct his thoughts, to focus on details and action. He would have to send his servants away, and then he would dispose of this soldier’s body and clean the mess. It would take the rest of the night to accomplish this, but he would not even have to leave his compound. There was a dungeon beneath where he stood now. He had only to drag the woman down the