“More fire whiskey my lord?”
Fallon lifted his head and nodded. He tossed the whiskey back, feeling it burn down his throat to light a fire in his stomach. He gestured for another round to be poured into the small glass that was no larger than his thumb.
The next cupful he savored slowly, sipping as he pulled the latest report from his troops in the east.
A hanging brazier and candles placed on chests and tables around the area cast a soft glow, making it possible to read by. He sat on several pillows that had a back built into them at a wide table, low to the ground. Maps and paper were strewn over it.
“The Horse Clan sends its regards,” a voice hissed next to his ear as a burning pain entered his back.
Fallon’s arm shot back, grabbing the hand plunging the blade into his side. He twisted sharply. A soft cry sounded. Fallon shot forward, spinning to face his opponent.
A dagger whistled through the air, spinning end over end. Fallon slid easily to the side, stepping forward and planting his fist in the assassin’s stomach. The man’s breath whooshed out. Fallon grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to knee him in the stomach.
The man went limp. Fallon grabbed his head and twisted, snapping his neck. As the man sunk to the ground, guards rushed into the tent, halting when they saw the figure lying at Fallon’s feet.
“Send for Darius,” Fallon barked.
He reached behind him, grimacing as his fingers came away with blood. If the man’s aim had been a little better, Fallon would be the one lying dead on the ground. He should have known better than to turn his back on any but a trusted friend.
Darius ducked under the flap, his eyes going immediately to the assassin.
“Another one? That makes the third this month.”
Fallon bent and using the man’s hair lifted him so his face was to the light. “Any one you recognize?”
Darius’s eyebrows pulled together as he examined the man’s face. “No. Did he say anything before he died?”
“Said it was courtesy of the Horse Clan.”
Darius’s jaw dropped as his eyes widened in rage. “Horse Clan? They’re your ally!” He strode to the prone figure and spit on it. “I’ll have my men make inquiries. If any of them had anything to do with this, I’ll find them.”
“It’s not certain it came from the Horse Clan, my friend.”
Darius shot Fallon an agonized look. “It doesn’t matter. You and I both know we can’t do anything but question anyone indicated. They knew right where to hit us. Questioning the Horse Clan’s integrity could jeopardize their loyalty.”
“Which is why I want you to hold off,” Fallon said, crossing his arms.
“You have a plan.”
Fallon inclined his head. “You’re right. Until now I have had no reason to question the Horse Clan’s loyalty. I am not going to start now because of the word of an inept assassin. My back was to him. He could have slit my throat or slid the dagger into my heart. He did neither and told me where the attempt originated. Why?”
“To throw off suspicion and drive a wedge between you and one of your closest allies. But, how can you be certain?”
“We’ll find out if my plan works.” He headed to his sleeping chamber and a clean set of clothes. “Call a meeting of the clan heads. I want to see their reactions when they see their assassin failed.”
Fallon’s face was cold and unyielding as he watched the clan leaders shift in their seats. Their unease might have something to do with the head sitting in the middle of the table.
Henry, head of the Horse Clan, hair white with age, poked at the head with one finger, causing it to roll towards the leader of Snake Clan, who batted it away with a look of distaste. Indra was a tall, lithe woman with long black hair braided into a series of interlocking braids.
Only four of the clan leaders were present, as well as Darius, who was Fallon’s right hand man. The last three were currently leading war parties.
“Why were we pulled from our beds in the middle of the night?” Van was middle aged with golden hair and a barrel chest and was the oldest except for Horse Clan’s leader. As Lion Clan, he was one of the potential traitors. Fallon had no proof. Yet.
“Someone tried to assassinate me tonight,” Fallon said blandly, watching for any betraying tick.
There was a hushed moment of silence as each processed how this might affect them. Indra arched one eyebrow but otherwise kept her expression politely interested.
Van smirked and said, “Guess someone really wants you dead.”
“They will just have to consign themselves to disappointment.”
“For now.”
“Is that a threat?” Darius asked sharply.
“Did it sound like one?” Van waved one hand. “Given the number of attempts lately, it’s just a matter of time before one is successful. Perhaps now you will reconsider heading back to clan lands. This place isn’t good for our people.”
“Yes, our mistake. How dare we take our people somewhere where they won’t have to fight over every speck of food or have to decide between giving water to their children or their horses,” Darius said.
“But we haven’t stopped fighting, have we? We’ve just traded one enemy for another,” Van said, baring his teeth.
“At least we aren’t fighting amongst ourselves,” Ben, the leader of Earth Clan said, arching an eyebrow. He was the youngest in the group and had not been tested by battle though he was in his twenties already.
“What would you know of it, Earth Clan?” Indra asked, curling a lip. “Your men aren’t out there dying.”
“My mistake, we simply make the weapons you use to defend yourselves.”
“Enough.” Fallon’s voice rumbled through the room. “I did not call this meeting so we could argue over issues that have already been settled. The Trateri will claim these lands and if you have issue with that then you can leave.”
Dirty looks were shot around the table before each settled back into their chairs.
“I don’t suppose the assassin said anything before he died?” Van asked in a bored tone.
“What makes you ask that?” Fallon asked, his eyes growing cold and fierce.
Van shrugged and waved a hand. “Why else would we be here?”
“You are correct, he did say something before I snapped his neck.” Fallon’s voice was silky as his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Well do tell us.”
“He said, ‘The Lion Clan gives its regards.’”
Van sprang to his feet and pounded a fist into the table. “Absurd.”
“Is it?” Indra asked. “Just moments ago you sounded as if you would like to shake hands with the assassin.”
“Lion Clan did not do this. On my honor, we did not.”
“I did not say you did,” Fallon told him. Van relaxed back into his seat and inclined his head in gratitude. Fallon’s next sentence made him tense and his face turn red. “I would, however, be a fool if I didn’t have Darius investigate. He won’t limit his investigations to just Van’s men either.”
“What?” Indra popped to her feet. “Why must the rest of us be subjected to suspicion when the assassin as good as pointed the finger against him?”