The Dwarven Rebellion

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The Dwarven Rebellion Page 26

by J. J. Thompson


  Jergen nodded his understanding.

  “I feel the same way, my lord,” he replied. “But that is why you've called upon both Hallic and Larin and their people, is it not? They have earned our trust, so I for one will leave those sorts of battles in their hands. What else can we do?”

  “Nothing, of course.”

  The main doors opened wide and a small group of dwarves was led into the throne room by Falder. All of them were dressed in brightly-colored silks and looked around disdainfully at the regular townspeople watching them, wide-eyed. Shandon made a sound of disgust.

  “Oh look,” he said under his breath. “Here comes today's entertainment.”

  Jergen cursed softly and stepped away from the throne as the delegation approached. Shandon sat up and glowered down at them.

  The group stopped at the foot of the dais and Falder bowed to the king.

  “Your majesty, may I present Duke Prenden Corse, lord of Destraline and Baroness Entissa, stewardess of the Copper Township.”

  The two nobles stepped forward, away from the others in their group. Prenden Corse bowed deeply while Entissa curtsied with great elegance. Both wore ruffles and bright silks. The lady's dress was elaborate and puffy and she seemed to be having some trouble breathing because the corset under her gown was pulled much too tightly for her rather ample figure.

  “Duke Corse, Baroness Entissa,” Shandon said in greeting. “Welcome. You are both looking well. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?”

  Falder had moved back to stand behind the group of nobles and he smiled in approval at the king's words. The duke and baroness seemed pleased as well and Prenden Corse puffed up importantly, his saggy red face brightening behind his elaborately curled beard.

  “Thank you for your kind welcome, your majesty” the duke said pompously. “And for receiving us so promptly today. The baroness and I are here representing many of your faithful nobles. We are...troubled by recent events and wished to speak with you to discuss some of our concerns.”

  Shandon settled back into his seat with a sigh.

  Here we go, he thought.

  “By all means, Duke Corse, please continue,” the king said. “You have my undivided attention.”

  Chapter 20

  The duke cleared his throat and glanced at Baroness Entissa. She had pulled out an elegant fan and was waving it beneath her double-chin. Apparently her tight gown and layers of silks were quite warm and her cheeks were flushed.

  She used the fan to motion for the duke to speak for her and then watched the king suspiciously through narrowed eyes.

  “Your majesty,” Duke Corse began, “we have been asked by a group of others of high station to seek an audience with you because of events that occurred several days ago. I am sure that you are aware of those events?”

  Shandon's expression was non-committal.

  “You will have to be a little more specific, duke,” he replied. “So many things are brought to my attention on a daily basis, as you know, that I am not sure what you are referring to.”

  Duke Corse's rather superior look faded from his face and he seemed to lose his train of thought.

  “Err, well, I... Of course I realize how busy you are, your majesty,” he said haltingly. “I was, err, speaking of...”

  “The mages,” Baroness Entissa snapped with an irritated look at the duke. “We are speaking of the fires that drove them from their warren and the fact that you have now allowed them to reside here in the palace.”

  The king sat up abruptly and glared down at the woman's aggrieved expression.

  “Warren?” he said sternly. “They are not cave rats, baroness. They are people. Your fellow citizens. Do try to keep that in mind.”

  Entissa's eyes widened and she stopped fanning herself as she gaped up at him. Apparently she wasn't used to being rebuked by anyone.

  The duke moved forward slightly and quickly bowed to Shandon again.

  “Please forgive the baroness's rather abrupt statement, your majesty,” he said smoothly. “I am sure that it is simply her concern for the crown that prompted her to misspeak.”

  Shandon sat back again.

  “Perhaps you are correct, duke. But you should both choose your words more carefully going forward, hmm? We wouldn't want to misunderstand each other, now would we?”

  The baroness glanced over at Jergen, who was glaring at her silently, and her red face appeared to pale slightly. She nodded rapidly at the king and he forced a smile.

  “Good. Please continue, Duke Corse.”

  “Thank you, your majesty. As the baroness indicated, we are concerned about these new, ah, visitors that you are entertaining in the palace. Word has spread throughout the city that hundreds of these, um, mysterious people now live here, close to the seat of power for the empire. We nobles, your subjects who are most loyal to the crown, are quite naturally worried for your safety.”

  “Naturally,” Shandon muttered dryly. “And there are less than a hundred 'visitors' by the way.”

  “Which is why we are here,” Corse continued, ignoring the touch of sarcasm in the king's tone. “Many of us, myself included, own properties that sadly stand empty and unused. Our population has declined, as you know, and we would be more than happy to make housing available to the, um, refugees while their own homes are being repaired. It would save you the trouble of dealing with them on a day to day basis and allow you to focus on affairs of state.”

  “For a reasonable fee, no doubt,” Jergen commented.

  Shandon glanced at him and held back a laugh.

  Now it's coming out, he thought. These nobles aren't concerned for my welfare. They see an opportunity to make some gold and are jumping at it.

  He looked at the baroness and saw a flash of something other than greed in her eyes before she lowered her head and fanned herself rapidly.

  Or are they? Shandon wondered. Corse may only be trying to line his pockets, but Entissa seems to have something else nibbling at her.

  “And you and the other nobles all got together to make this generous offer, duke?” he asked Corse. “No arguments about whose property might be chosen or who would gain from this? How civilized of you.”

  Corse bowed at the apparent compliment.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” he replied with a broad smile. “Yes, I was actually rather surprised at the graciousness of some of my colleagues. As my dear friend, the baroness here, owns more property that most of us, we have agreed that her holdings are the best choice to be used to house your guests. Any fees that are offered by the crown to pay for the use of said properties will be shared equally amongst all of us. Of course, Baroness Entissa is quite happy to leave it up to you, sire, to decide where the refugees will actually be housed.”

  “Is she? Very generous indeed. I was not aware that you had so many resources, baroness.”

  Entissa continued to flutter her fan as she curtsied slightly at the king.

  “My holdings are modest, your majesty,” she said demurely. “But as the duke has said, many of us who own properties have watched them sit empty year after year. It would be a pleasure to see them used again, especially for something so important and worthwhile. And if you choose my holdings, sire, I will happily share any revenues garnered with my fellow nobles, as the duke said.”

  Shandon fiddled with the beads woven into his beard as he listened to the baroness.

  “Very generous,” he repeated. “Tell me something, Baroness Entissa. Have you ever met any of the mages whom you seem to care so deeply about?”

  She stopped waving her fan for a moment and stared at him in surprise.

  “Well, I, ah, do not believe so, your majesty,” she stammered. “I doubt that we move in the same social circles, you see, or that I would have met any of them at the many parties I attend.”

  “No, I don't suppose you would have,” Shandon said evenly. “Which is why I am rather surprised by this gracious offer of yours. Where exactly are these properties
that you mentioned? Are they close to the palace?”

  “Oh no, your majesty,” Entissa replied with an exaggerated wave of her fan. “Dear me, no. The price of real estate in Kingstone has always been very high, as I am sure you know. My own residence is here, of course, but my properties and those of my late husband, the baron, are elsewhere.”

  “I see. So you are proposing that I send the mages and their families out of the city entirely. Is that correct?”

  “For their own good, your majesty,” she said quickly. “And for your comfort as well. Having hordes of children underfoot while you try to concentrate on important state business must be so distracting.”

  Before Shandon could reply to the woman's absurd comment, Jergen cleared his throat loudly, making both the duke and the baroness jump slightly.

  “Where are these properties of yours, baroness?” he asked in his gravelly voice. “Precisely.”

  He was watching her closely through narrowed eyes and Shandon could see that his old friend shared his own suspicions. Something beyond both greed and altruism was at play here.

  “Where?”

  Entissa appeared to be searching for an answer, but she darted a quick look from behind her fan at the king as she did so.

  “I do believe that the majority of the homes I own are located in the charming little city of Cindercore,” she answered brightly. “I doubt that you have heard much about it, but it's a lovely place crisscrossed with many picturesque canals. I am sure that your guests would be quite happy there. And it is just for a short time, after all.”

  “Cindercore,” Jergen said as he looked over at the king. “I see.”

  Shandon motioned him closer to the throne and lowered his voice.

  “The one place that we know Cindra had stationed daemons, and this woman wants to send the mages there,” he whispered. “Coincidence?”

  Jergen smiled.

  “Neither of us believes in coincidences, old friend,” he murmured. “This baroness may not know that the daemons were routed. Or perhaps she is truly motivated by greed, but has been manipulated by Cindra's magic. Who can say? But you damned well know better than to send the mages and their families to Cindercore, don't you?”

  “They are not going anywhere,” Shandon replied firmly. “I am indulging these two for the sake of the empire, nothing more.”

  “Good,” Jergen said with obvious relief. “That's what I assumed you were doing.”

  “Have a little faith,” the king told him with a grin. “And some patience.”

  “Aye.”

  Jergen stepped away from the throne again and Shandon looked down at the nobles.

  “I appreciate your offer, baroness,” he said smoothly. “And your support of that offer, duke. I will consider it carefully and give you my decision in due time. Thank you for your efforts to aid the crown. I will not forget them.”

  Duke Corse looked delighted and bowed. Baroness Entissa, however, appeared to be caught by surprise by the abrupt dismissal and her face revealed her suspicions.

  “Your majesty, those poor people are homeless and clearly need a comfortable place to stay,” she stated rather loudly. “Surely this cannot wait. Think of the children and...”

  “Baroness,” Shandon said sharply. “All of the mages and their families are quite safe and, I daresay, comfortable here in the palace. I agree that it is not what they are used to, but for now they are coping. I will contact you when I make my decision. Thank you again. You are dismissed.”

  Falder stepped forward from behind the group of minor nobles.

  “If you will follow me?” he said politely to the duke and baroness.

  Having no other option, Entissa curtsied perfunctorily while the duke bowed once again and then both of them walked off as Falder led them back across the room to the exit.

  Just before the baroness left the throne room, she turned back and Shandon felt the cold glare of her eyes on him. It left him with a feeling of foreboding.

  I do not trust that woman, he thought. Not at all.

  “Well,” he said heavily, once the group was out of the throne room. “That was unpleasant. Nobles. I don't know why I put up with them.”

  “Political expediency,” Jergen said with a wide grin.

  The king gave him a sour look.

  “True enough, I suppose. But it's like having a conversation with a tunnel snake. I don't trust any of them. Now, what was that woman thinking, trying to get me to send the mages to Cindercore? Was it merely greed, or something more sinister? I wonder if there is a way to find out?”

  Jergen moved closer to the throne and leaned against the side of it.

  “You mean, other than sending them downstairs to spend a few weeks sitting in the palace dungeon until they tell us?” he asked lightly.

  Shandon laughed at the thought.

  “Yes, other than that. I do have to treat these nobles with some delicacy. They command sizable amounts of troops, after all, and I do not want to rile them up unnecessarily.”

  Falder returned to the dais and walked up the steps to stand on the opposite side of the throne from Jergen.

  “My lord,” he said to Shandon. “I do not trust the motives of the baroness.”

  Jergen snorted and rolled his eyes as the king smiled at Falder.

  “Nor do we. We were just discussing possible ways of finding out if her offer of housing for the mages was genuine or if she had an ulterior motive behind her pleasant words. Any ideas?”

  “Hallic Barston,” Falder said.

  “Hallic? Really? Why him?”

  “He is now the head of the rogues guild, my lord,” Falder told the king. “And after what his daughter experienced in Cindercore, I am sure that he has told his people in that city to keep an eye out for any more strange occurrences. Perhaps he can get a message to the guild-house there and have someone check on these properties that the baroness mentioned? It might not amount to anything, but you never know.”

  “That is actually a good idea,” Jergen told the seneschal.

  “You needn't sound so surprised,” Falder replied with a smile. “I may only be a minor official in the palace, but the king's welfare is my greatest concern.”

  “Falder, you are much more than a minor official,” Shandon stated firmly. “I would be lost without you and this place would fall apart in a day without your steady hand keeping it running smoothly.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I do what I can.”

  “I apologize if that sounded condescending, Falder,” Jergen said, tapping his chest with his fist in a gesture of respect. “It's just that you are so good at remaining in the background that I sometimes forget how integral you are to keeping the palace from descending into chaos.”

  “A compliment, Jergen? From you?” Shandon said, teasing his old friend. “That's a surprise.”

  Jergen grumbled but smiled a bit, looking embarrassed.

  “Aye,” he said. “Maybe it is. Anyway, I think that contacting Hallic and getting his thoughts on all of this should be our next step. Larin could get in touch with the rogue more quickly than a runner, couldn't he?”

  “He could, yes.”

  Shandon stood up and walked around the throne. Hadd was still standing at the back of the room, watching attentively, and the king motioned him forward.

  “Yes, my lord?” the mage said as he climbed up the rear steps of the dais, lifting the hem of his pale blue robe to avoid tripping on it.

  “Hadd, do you know where Larin might be at this time of the day?” Shandon asked him.

  “Probably in his quarters, my lord. The Elder is known to spend most of his free time studying old manuscripts and tomes.”

  “Ah, of course. I should have known. Thank you.”

  The mage bowed and walked back to his original position.

  Shandon sat down again and looked at Falder.

  “Could you go to Larin's quarters and ask him to contact Hallic? Normally I'd send a page, but we need to keep this just between
us.”

  “Certainly, my lord. What should Larin tell the rogue?”

  “Just that something interesting might be happening in Cindercore and that I'd like to speak with him about it.'

  The king hesitated.

  “And tell Larin that, for the sake of expediency, he may Gate Hallic into the palace,” he added. “The baroness seemed rather eager for me to make a quick decision regarding the mages, and that makes me suspect that time is not on our side.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” Falder told him.

  “Off you go then.”

  The seneschal bowed and hurried off toward the main doors.

  Shandon looked up at Jergen, who smiled back at him.

  “Crown feeling a bit tighter today than usual?” he asked.

  “Just a bit, yes. Nobles. Intrigue. Magic. Bah! Oh for the good old days when I knew who my enemies were and all I had to do was brain them with my axe.” He sighed. “Simpler times.”

  “That they were, my friend,” Jergen agreed. “That they were.”

  By the time Hallic responded to the king's summons, Shandon had adjourned for lunch and was back in his quarters. He and Jergen were sitting in the lounge talking quietly while they waited for their food to be delivered when Falder walked in, followed by both the rogue and Larin.

  “Ah, there you are, Falder,” Shandon said with a smile. “And with my favorite mage and rogue in tow. Excellent!”

  Larin bowed politely to the king, his brown robe giving him a rather somber appearance. Hallic, in plain black leathers, simply nodded. The seneschal stepped back and waited by the entrance.

  “Take a seat, my friends,” Shandon said, waving at the empty chairs around the table. “I hoped that you would be in time for lunch, so I took the liberty of ordering enough food for all of us.”

  “Good,” Hallic said as he pulled back a chair and sat down lightly. “Things have been hectic at the guild and I haven't had a chance to eat for a while.”

  Larin sat down next to him and smoothed out his robe as he settled into his seat.

 

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