Prince Thief Read Free Page A

of this mysterious Bastard Prince, I realised I couldn’t keep down my curiosity. “Tell me if I’m understanding this right. King Panchessa sires a child on some northerner wench and then covers it up. That child grows up to be Moaradrid, notorious invading warlord, kidnapper of giants and all-round madman.”
    Mounteban nodded, with the disinterested air of one teaching obvious lessons to a stupid child.
    “But Moaradrid is dead,” I continued. And no one in their right mind would ever refer to him as a boy. Suddenly, I understood. “You’re saying Moaradrid had a son too?”
    “His name is Malekrin,” Mounteban agreed. “The Bastard Prince, illegitimate son of an illegitimate son. The King’s only possible living heir.”
    “But surely he hasn’t any real claim to the throne?” put in Estrada.
    “For our purposes,” said Mounteban, “it hardly matters. What’s important is that the northerners believe it – and that, even after Moaradrid’s failed rebellion, they’re willing to fight over it. If you’re aware of the Prince, Marina, I’m sure you’re equally familiar with the name Kalyxis?”
    Alvantes’s expression soured even further. “That witch.”
    My inquisitiveness genuinely piqued now, I said, “Let’s assume that not everyone has your or Alvantes’s grasp on the politics of far-distant lands.”
    “Kalyxis,” said Mounteban, “is King Panchessa’s one-time paramour, Moaradrid’s mother, Malekrin’s grandmother... and just as she did with his father, she’s been grooming the boy as a potential saviour of the far north. As obvious as it would seem that she’s motivated by spite, she has a remarkable knack for telling her people what they want to hear.”
    “It sounds like you two have a lot in common,” observed Alvantes.
    “Just so,” Mounteban agreed, ignoring the obvious slight. “Which is why I sent a messenger to her proposing an alliance. I haven’t received a reply, but then given the distances involved that’s hardly surprising. However, it seems to me that Kalyxis and the Prince are still our best hope. Perhaps they can be persuaded to send support, or to harry Ans Pasaeda from the north, forcing the King to cut short his visit. Perhaps just the threat of an alliance will be enough to make Panchessa think twice.”
    “I appreciate that you’ve put thought into this,” said Estrada carefully, “but do you really think it could work? And even if it did, as you just said yourself, there’s no way anyone could travel so far and return in time. Altapasaeda can’t stand against the King for more than a few days.”
    “A difficulty, for sure,” agreed Mounteban. “But there is a way.”
    There was something in the way he emphasised those last words that made everyone, even Alvantes, suddenly more attentive. “Go on,” Estrada told him.
    “A tunnel, running west from the palace, through the mountainside. It was built, or perhaps more likely discovered, by the first prince... this in the days when a Castovalian revolt seemed more than likely. At the other end are a dock and a ship. If my sources are correct, even Panchetto wasn’t so confident in his own safety as to leave the passage and vessel unmaintained. It should still be there, and seaworthy.”
    “This is all nonsense!” growled Alvantes. “I’d have heard of such a thing.”
    “Apparently not,” replied Mounteban. “Then again,” he added with smug good cheer, “Panchetto always did like to keep the City Guard at arm’s length.”
    Alvantes was clearly ready to storm back across the room, but catching Estrada’s eye he thought better of it. “Anyway,” he said instead, “in case it’s escaped these ‘sources’ of yours, the palace is occupied. I doubt the Palace Guard would take kindly to us traipsing through. Unless, of course, you’ve somehow managed to deal with them too?”
    “That proved... untenable,” admitted Mounteban, his brief upturn in mood evaporating. “I’d hoped