King's Sacrifice by Margaret Weis Read Free Book Online Page A

coldly. "You know
what happened that night on Laskar."
    "Not
precisely, my lord. " Aks had heard rumors, of course, but the
subject of my lady's disappearance always put his lordship in a
particularly bad mood and was therefore not often brought up during
casual dinner conversation.
    Sagan did not
answer immediately, but regarded Aks long and thoughtfully. Deciding
how much of the truth to tell me, the admiral knew, from long
association with his lord.
    "That
night, Aks, following certain circumstances which I need not go into,
my lady was left in sole possession of the space-rotation bomb. She
deceived both me and His Majesty into believing she had armed and was
prepared to detonate it. Maigrey gave Dion the code needed to disarm
it, but refused to tell either of us how much time was left ticking
away before it blew up. She wanted to find out if His Majesty would
be willing to sacrifice his life to obtain it. Dion was, of course.
He is Blood Royal. He was willing to die, and to take us with him,
unless I promised to turn the bomb over to him. I did so. He gave me
the code and I disarmed a bomb that had, as it turned out, never
truly been armed."
    Sagan shook his
head ruefully.
    "But I
didn't know that, then. I left the spaceplane, Aks, left Dion, left
Maigrey with him. I had work to do. Snaga Ohme was dead and all he
owned, all his vast store of weapons and wealth, was up for grabs. I
had made arrangements. General Haupt's forces were engaged in
securing Ohme's estate—an easy task, but the army was
encountering stubborn pockets of resistance from Ohme's men. I needed
to be there in person. His Majesty was wounded, on the verge of
exhaustion. I expected Maigrey to stay with him, kiss his hurts, make
him feel better, tuck him in bed, and keep an eye on the bomb."
    Sagan's tone was
biting, sardonic. "Instead, Aks, she walked out on him."
    Walked out on you, my lord, Aks amended silently. But he was immediately so
uncomfortable even thinking such a thing—in case Sagan might
somehow see inside his head—that the admiral was seized by a
sudden fit of coughing, forced to cover his face with his
handkerchief.
    Fortunately,
Sagan was brooding over bitter memory, paying his admiral little
attention. "That morning, I came back from Ohme's to discover
that my lady had not returned to her quarters. I sent the guard to
search for her. She had managed, by faking a message from me, to
convince those left behind in command on the base that she was to be
given a spaceplane in order to join the fighting at Ohme's. Of
course, she never came anywhere near the Adonian's."
    "But you
could have gone after her, my lord," ventured Aks, recovered and
greatly daring. "You knew where she was."
    "Yes, I
knew where she was," Sagan snapped. "I know where she is.
And she can stay there. Maigrey abandoned her duty to her king. She
obviously has no interest in him or his welfare. She prefers to hide,
lick her wounds. Let her. Let her rot!"
    The Warlord
poured himself a glass of cool water, drank it. Eyes closed, he
breathed deeply, concentrated on his breathing, on cleansing body and
mind of the debilitating anger.
    At least that's
what he thinks he's doing. Aks watched his lord in concern. The flame
remains, it will never die, never be tamped down, never snuffed out.
His anger was not directed at Maigrey, but at fate. And it was
burning him alive.
    These past few
months had aged Sagan. He was only forty-eight (almost forty-nine,
his natal day was approaching, a day Aks dreaded). The Warlord was in
life's prime for one of the Blood Royal, whose life span exceeded
that of ordinary mortals. But the fire within Sagan was consuming
those extra, genetically manufactured years. The gray at the temples
had lengthened to streaks through the thick black hair. The lines on
the granite face and brow were darker, deeper.
    He walked with a
slight limp, nothing serious. He had pulled a muscle exercising. But
the injury itself was significant. The