by AC Cobble
A squadron of beautiful female servants, attired in flowing, low cut, sheer dresses, entered carrying steaming piles of hot, damp towels and bowls of warm water scattered with rose petals and lemon.
“You kept a few of the golden bowls, I see,” remarked Rew.
Valchon laughed again, but Rew noted the prince’s eyes sparkled with something that did not look quite like amusement. The ranger put his pack and cloak on the table, trying to arrange the items to hide the wool-wrapped falchions he’d taken from Vyar Grund. It’d be awkward, Valchon seeing those. The ranger accepted a hot towel from one of the serving women and left his longsword slung over his shoulder and his hunting knife on his side. The others followed suit.
Valchon shook his head. “Here on business, Rew?”
Grunting and making a sudden decision, the ranger slung off his longsword and placed it on the table beside the falchions. “You must have heard rumors of the Dark Kind assembling all across the Eastern Province?”
Valchon nodded.
“We were in Stanton just a week ago,” said Rew. “Baron Appleby believes thousands of the creatures have surrounded the city. From all across your territory, they are converging there. Any moment, they could attack. Stanton does not have the means to defend itself against such a threat, so I’ve come to ask your assistance.”
“Wine?” inquired Valchon, accepting a glass of dark crimson liquid from a woman and gesturing for her to offer it to his guests as well.
“This is important, Valchon.”
“Wine first,” said the prince. “It loosens the tongue, Rew, and then men such as you and I can speak openly about matters such as these.” The prince held his glass to his nose and inhaled. “Ah, a surprising selection. A recent vintage but well chosen. In time, these grapes could grow to be the finest in the kingdom. You are fortunate to taste them while the vines are still young. Drinking this wine is like seeing the future.”
Rolling his eyes, Rew took a proffered glass from a comely servant who was carrying several on a gleaming silver tray. The ranger nodded toward the table, giving Raif and the others permission to fall upon the food. It might only be there as a light snack for the prince, but it was the finest table they’d seen in months. Rew sipped the wine and wondered if maybe it was the finest table they’d ever seen. The wine, certainly, was as good as could be found.
Valchon’s gaze flicked to Rew’s longsword where the ranger had laid it upon the table. “Still carrying that thing, are you? I suppose it’s only right. You always were the swordsman. Tell me, what sort of business are you here on, Rew? Surely if you mean to use that tonight, you won’t dishonor me by taking advantage of my hospitality first?”
“I told you. I came to warn you about the threat to Stanton.”
Valchon scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “You think I’ve no idea what is happening within my own province? Maybe you do, thinking you could sneak into this palace without me knowing. Let us cut to the heart of the matter, and tell me what you were doing in Stanton in the first place? Walking to Carff, I assume, but why? It’s a bit outside of your territory, or have you been promoted? My father told me about Vyar Grund’s betrayal. Are you filling the late commandant’s boots, now? I didn’t think you’d accept the role if it was ever offered to you. The King’s Rangers aren’t political, Father tells everyone, but we both know the commandant spends far more time in my court and that of my brothers’ than he does trekking through the wilderness. If the rangers weren’t political, Vyar Grund would not be dead, eh?”
“Just how much time was Vyar spending in your court, Valchon?”
The prince smirked.
“You feel nothing? You’ve known the man your entire life. It was his involvement with you that—”
Valchon held up a finger to still Rew’s tongue. “Grund’s death is a great loss for Vaeldon. We can agree on that, but let us not engage in rank speculation. Unless… What do you know?”
“The king used Vyar Grund—his body—to send me a message.”
“Grund should have been more careful,” said Valchon, his tone finally losing some of the casual arrogance he’d had since first seeing them. “I should have been more careful as well. I am human. I make mistakes, and Grund paid for that one. Is that what you want me to say?”
Rew frowned at him, and Valchon turned and acknowledged the rest of the party for the first time.
“Baron Fedgley’s two youngest children. A priestess of the Cursed Father—I didn’t think those existed… Let me guess, a thief? An empath, and of course, two of your companions are missing. A necromancer of marginal talent, found lurking in the city after departing your company, and who is currently enjoying a stay in my dungeons. He really should take more care about where he shows those robes, but men of small power cannot help themselves bragging about it, can they? And Lord Fredrick, who was also a yipping dog but of a different breed.” Prince Valchon tapped his lips with a finger. “Curious company, Rew, curious company. If my curiosity could be further piqued by your companions, why, it would be. What possible reason could all of you have for coming to visit me?”
“I told you. Stanton.”
Shaking his head, Valchon murmured, “That’s what the necromancer said, I am told. What a fool. He served no use to Fedgley, did he? No use to Appleby, either—or you or I, for that matter. The late Lord Fredrick, of course, was looking out for his own interests, but you left him as soon as you could. He, at least, I understand.”
“The late Lord Fredrick?”
Valchon nodded and pointed to an arched window opposite the balcony. Rew walked to it and peered through the thick glass down into a bare courtyard. There was a body there sitting in a chair, holding its head in its lap. Rew couldn’t see Fredrick’s face, but he didn’t need to.
“It was him, then,” muttered Rew. “I’d wondered…”
“Tell me, Rew,” instructed Valchon. “What is it that you think that man did to earn his fate?”
“He cast a glamour on his father, Baron Worgon. He convinced the old man to march toward Spinesend, and then he cast a pall of darkness over the baron’s army, allowing Duke Eeron to ambush them. Was Worgon actually working for you, or did he just think he was?”
“Worgon was working for me. He was my bannerman,” acknowledged Valchon. He nodded toward the Fedgley children. “As was Baron Fedgley before Eeron and his foul arcanist took the baron into captivity. Not all in the Investiture is a grand mystery, is it? But there are some mysteries. There’s been a great deal of interest in these children, for example, and I want to know why.”
“It was you who killed Duke Eeron, then?”
“Of course,” said Valchon, twirling his wine glass in his hands and studying the liquid as it bled down the side of the crystal. “Eeron pledged allegiance to Calb. He captured Baron Fedgley. He ambushed and killed Baron Worgon. They were my men, in my province, and that sort of thing cannot go unpunished. What do you think, Rew, of his execution? I’m considering making this my signature, displaying the bodies of traitors in such a manner. Is it suitably dramatic?”
Rew meandered away from the window and the sight of Lord Fredrick’s decapitated body. He did not respond to Valchon’s question and ignored the prince’s twinkling smile.
Eyeing the two Fedgley children, Valchon continued, “Baron Fedgley was collecting wraiths for me in the barrowlands. You all know this? Good. Powerful allies, those wraiths. Fedgley had informed me he could harvest them and begged favors from me in exchange. The barrowland wraiths are of a particularly potent vintage, a race our ancestors exterminated before Vaisius Morden the First took the throne. A handful of those wraiths could sweep through an entire army. Spellcasters, except for the purest blood, are helpless against them.”
Rew grunted.
“I’ve told you nothing new?” questioned Valchon, sounding mildly surprised. “For a man so vocally uninvolved in the Investiture, you are remarkably well-informed.”
The ranger picked up a stuffed date and
popped it into his mouth, chewing the big bite slowly and obviously, so he did not have to respond. He washed it down with an unnecessarily large gulp of Valchon’s wine.
The prince grinned at him and waited.
“I passed through Falvar and saw some of the wraiths that Baron Fedgley had collected.”
“You know then that Alsayer kidnapped the baron and his wraiths and fled. I tasked Grund with finding them, and while he could not secure the baron himself, he did manage to recover the wraiths. You know that as well, do you not? You were in Spinesend to see it?”
Rew did not respond.
“The king found out about Grund, and unfortunately, the commandant paid the price for involving himself in matters the king’s rangers are meant to avoid. The king meant the lesson for me, but I think it applies just as well to you, don’t you agree?”
Valchon raised an eyebrow, and Rew scowled at him.
Smirking, the prince turned to Raif and Cinda. “Your father pledged his support to me. Will you do so as well?”
“I-I, ah…” stammered Raif.
“We have little to offer,” interjected Cinda. “We were fostered with Baron Worgon for years, and—“
“You have something to offer,” interrupted Valchon. “There is a reason my brothers seek your family. I can protect you from them, but in exchange, I need to know what it is the Fedgleys are expected to do. Why are Heindaw and Calb so interested in your family?”
“It’s their sister Kallie who carries the family’s magic,” interrupted Rew. “She is her father’s better, I believe. She can control the wraiths you mentioned.”
“Interesting,” murmured Valchon, his eyes still on the children. “Throughout the years, some offer me their strength of arms, others their strength of magic, but most valuable of all is information. That, I am afraid, is a commodity I’m sorely lacking these days. I’d like to know, for example, where your sister is. Do you know?”
Cinda swallowed nervously and shook her head no, and Rew cursed to himself. The girl couldn’t look guiltier. It was hard to blame her. One of the most powerful high magicians in the kingdom’s history was staring at her sternly, but if she said the wrong thing…
“Why do you think the king would be interested in your father’s wraiths?” questioned Valchon, stepping closer to Raif and Cinda. “The Blessed Mother knows the man can call upon a legion of his own if he so desired. Did he confiscate them as further punishment for making use of Vyar Grund, or something more?”
“Kallie Fedgley is with Alsayer,” said Rew, breaking into the conversation again. “I don’t know where the spellcaster is now, but they are together. I believe he plans to use her to command the wraiths for his own purposes. There were five, Valchon, five of those ancient spirits. With those at his command, Alsayer will be a potent force during the rest of the Investiture. You know him as well as I. You know the bastard has been plotting this since shortly after he learned to walk.”
“I meant to use the wraiths to counteract Calb’s incursion,” said Valchon suddenly, followed by a deep sigh. “The spirits of our own race are not sated by the souls of the Dark Kind, did you know? But the wraiths Fedgley harvested, from deep within the barrowlands, are from an age before the Dark Kind came to this realm. Those wraiths will consume the Dark Kind as hungrily as they do us. Not having those spirits to call upon is unfortunate, and it will be costly. I dealt with Duke Eeron quickly, but the Dark Kind will be more difficult. They’re spread all over the province, appearing like moles from portal stones my beloved brother Calb must have spent years scattering in out-of-the-way locations. We’ve found and destroyed many of them, but it’s clear there are just as many more.”
“Why are you telling us all of this?”
“Why should we not tell each other these things?” countered Valchon. “Unless, that is, you mean to use your sword against me?”
Gripping his wine glass tightly, Rew shook his head.
“You took a great risk coming here, Rew,” said Valchon, slowly circling the room. He passed by Anne and the nameless woman, and they both took a step back. Then he walked around the table and drew near Cinda. Pale-faced, trembling, the young noblewoman could not take her eyes off the prince. “It is out of character for you to involve yourself in these matters, and even more so to put friends in grave danger, yet here you are, and they are with you. What have you told them of yourself?”
“Nothing,” said Rew. He shifted. “Little. Very little.”
Nodding, Valchon said, “Very well. I will respect your privacy, but my consideration comes at a cost.”
Rew raised an eyebrow.
“Finish your wine, and have another,” instructed the prince. He winked and continued, “That isn’t my price, but we will discuss it soon. Unless you’ve changed greatly, you’ll want to be drunk.”
Slowly, Rew sipped his wine. He said, “You know I’m not one for games. What do you want of me, Valchon?”
“That will come,” said the prince. “You came to Carff to see me, so you go first. What is it you want?”
“I want you to intercede before Stanton is overrun.”
Valchon shook his head. “I’m afraid that is something I cannot do.”
“What?”
“The Dark Kind are scattered, Rew. To track them all down would take me weeks, maybe longer. I don’t know. As I said, we haven’t found all of the portal stones Calb has scattered across the province. He surprised me, doing that so early. It violated the rules the king has set around the Investiture, but what can one do? Once it begins, there are no rules. The result is that I could be hunting Calb’s foul conjurings and portal stones until summer before I found them all, but I cannot do that. I cannot spare weeks or even days. It was Calb’s plan to have me do so, I am sure of it. When I am distracted, he’ll move, and he will strike at my allies. Heindaw has shown his interest as well, as the Fedgleys have experienced. Arcanist Salwart is his minion. Did you know? Salwart’s last act before fleeing to Iyre was to betray Duke Eeron, serving the duke to me on a platter. I wanted to take both of the traitors, but I had to choose one. Whatever Salwart knew, Heindaw knows now, and he’ll be prepared to leap at my side as Calb strikes my other. They’ve both turned their eyes on me, Rew. They mean for me to be the first to fall.”
“You’ll let the Dark Kind roam freely, then?”
“Not for long.”
Rew scratched his beard and raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll let them take Stanton, and I’ll trap them there,” explained Valchon. The prince shrugged. “That way, I can slay the bulk of the creatures in one blow without having to spend weeks chasing them around and exposing myself and my allies. Both Calb and Heindaw know I’ve built a foundation of support they cannot match, so they’ll try to separate my friends and take them one by one. I will not let that happen. If I can defend myself and those close to me these next weeks, I’ve the pieces and the strategy to win this game. To my sorrow, the cost will be high.”
“You’ll… you’ll let them take Stanton,” breathed Cinda.
Valchon nodded crisply. “Appleby is of little consequence. I’d thought to grant his barony to a stronger ally anyway, once I was crowned. The only reason I haven’t already was because I wanted it as a carrot, an incentive for others to prove themselves worthy. I have Spinesend and Yarrow for that, now. Both are greater prizes than Stanton. Nobles, once they are ensconced in a keep, think of nothing but betrayal. It’s best not to share the spoils until you no longer need the allies.”
“B-But the people…” stammered Cinda.
Valchon looked at her, confused. “There’s no army to speak of in Stanton. No spellcasters of note, now. The place is worthless.”
“Aye, and that goes both ways,” barked Rew. “It appears as liege you have little value to offer Stanton.”
“That was unkind, Rew,” replied Valchon with a vicious grin. He glanced toward a doorway where a servant had just appeared. “Ah, I believe our supper is ready. Shall we?”
> 21
Dinner was an extravagant feast. Heaps of food were spread like the ridges of the Spine, spilling down a table that was ten times longer than their small group needed. Decanters of wine were proffered in a constant rotation by servants with straight backs, starched livery, and serious miens. It left Rew wondering where the young women had gone who had served wine in the other room. He thought to ask Anne if she noticed the change as well then quickly thought better of it.
When they sat, Rew positioned himself beside Valchon, hoping to steer the man’s conversation away from probing questions of the children or the others, and it worked. The prince grew nervous, though not in a visible way. Valchon maintained his haughty but gracious manner. With skill practiced and refined for decades, he made them feel welcome. He inquired about them enough to be polite but not enough to make them squirm as if under interrogation. Then, he quickly excused himself.
Rew had left his longsword with their other gear, but he had not completely disarmed himself. He had his hunting knife and the daggers he kept in his boots. Sitting beside Valchon, he was close enough to the other man that he could reach him with those blades. The prince was well-prepared for such scenarios, but tonight, he had difficulty. Rew was having difficulty with it as well. In the blink of an eye, he could put steel into Valchon, or at least try to. It was what he’d come to Carff to do. It needed to happen, for the good of Vaeldon, but then there was Stanton. If there was a chance Valchon would act and lives would be spared, then Rew had to stay his hand. He told himself it was Stanton’s need and not Alsayer’s request that kept the peace
To Rew, the tension felt palpable, like steady rain that one could not ignore, but somehow, the others did. Raif set himself to the buffet of savory dishes like it would be the last food to cross his lips, and the nameless woman gave Valchon’s wine similar attention. Zaine both ate and drank, but mostly, she marveled at the spectacle of dining with one of the princes of Vaeldon. Cinda and Anne had sat farthest from Valchon, and they ate quietly, hunched down on the other side of the sprawl on the table, clearly hoping to be ignored.