Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [122]
Albain wheezed for breath and swayed.
Alarmed, Elandra threw down her sword and steadied him. “Careful, Father. No more shouting. Catch your breath first.”
His arm went around her and he leaned hard against her, his weight making her stagger. “Damnation,” he swore softly. “Don’t squeeze me so hard. My ribs feel like they’ve been kicked by a mule.”
She had the sudden urge to laugh. He was alive, as ill-tempered and loud as ever, and everyone was staring at him as though he were a ghost.
Albain seemed to finally notice the stares and frozen stances of the courtiers. He glared at them and hefted his sword with an angry growl in his throat. “What in blazes are you staring at?” he demanded. “Where’s the officer on duty? Where’s my own squire? Who the devil chose the guard roster tonight?”
Chaos broke out anew as everyone started talking to each other and pointing. More guards came running up, along with a pale-faced young captain. A moment later General Handar himself appeared.
He stepped forward and saluted, his eyes round and astonished. “My lord!” he said, sounding out of breath.
“Handar, report! Were those men captured, or are they out setting fire to the stables by now?”
Albain’s acerbic tone darkened Handar’s cheeks. He stood stiffly at attention, looking like a subaltern getting his first dressing down. “Captured, my lord.”
“Hmpf.” Albain coughed and glared with his one eye. Without warning he turned on his squire. “Be useful! Bring me that chair.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The young man dragged over the chair, and Albain lowered himself heavily into it with a grunt. Only then did he seem to be aware of his thin linen sleeping shirt and bare feet.
His face turned scarlet, and he gestured with his sword. “Captain!”
“My lord?”
“Clear the hall of these women! I’m not a spectacle for them to gawk at!”
One of the women tittered loudly, and there was a sudden flurry as people retreated.
Albain’s face stayed red. “What in blazes is the matter with this household, letting everything fall to ruin the moment my attention is elsewhere?”
Handar swallowed. He was still staring at Albain as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. “My lord,” he said respectfully, “you were dying.”
“Yes, I was, damn it!” Albain shouted at him. He paused to catch his breath, then continued. “And someone came tonight to help me along, since I was obviously taking too long. Heads will roll for this, I promise you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Question those men. Use any torture you like, but get answers. I want to know who paid them, the blackguard.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And get some order established. Who the devil are all these people? Am I housing the entire population of Gialta?”
“Mostly, my lord.”
“Vultures,” Albain muttered.
But at least two of the warlords were venturing closer now. Neither of them was Lord Pier, Elandra noticed with scorn.
“Albain,” one of them said. “This is truly a miracle. You’re alive.”
“Eh? Of course I’m alive. Why shouldn’t I be?” He scowled at the man. “What are you doing in my house, Humaul?”
The warlord opened his eyes very wide. “I came for a council of war. There was your successor to choose, and a decision has to be made about the new emperor.”
“Emperor?” Albain barked, turning red again. “The emperor’s dead, man.”
“Prince Tirhin is ready to take his place.”
“Father,” Elandra said in quiet warning, observing the sheen of perspiration on her father’s brow. He was doing too much, growing too tired.
Albain shifted in his chair, grunting at her without looking around. “Tirhin is a fop, a puppy,” he said, then grimaced. “All right, a council of war. But not tonight. A man should be able to sleep in his own bed without fear of cutthroats bursting in. Handar, I want this place in order come morning. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And I’m going back to bed. I’m too old for such excitement in the middle of the night. I need my rest. My ribs hurt like the very