by Mike Truk
Music filled the air, elegant strains of stringed instruments, and a hundred lanterns were set about the bailey and high along the walls so that it seemed as if we emerged into a globe of golden daylight. Groomsmen wearing hound masks and dressed in stiff velvet uniforms helped the ladies alight, and everywhere I looked I saw the nobility of Port Lusander, come to enjoy Beauhammer’s spectacle even as they took advantage of the event to show themselves off in turn.
We all donned our masks. Tamara’s was a blue affair, the eyes picked out in glittering gold, whereas Cerys’ was a checkered confection of emerald and silver. My own was more grotesque; an exaggerated nose that reached Pony-like almost past my chin, high cheekbones, a mouth that sneered on one side and seemed to sob on the other, all painted a matte black.
Taking Cerys’ and Tamara’s arms, I led them over the gravel that had been spread across the bailey and through the main doors of the keep. The castle was long past the point of being able to rebuff a serious assault, but these central areas had clearly been restored, and moving into the grand hall I saw that Beauhammer - or whomever Beauhammer had hired - had done a marvelous job of at least making this hall appear as glittering and fine as that of any palace back home.
Twin fireplaces faced each other across from either side of the hall, each large enough in which to roast an ox, and their light was complimented by both that of a gilded chandelier and scores of lanterns and candles so that the air was both bright and stifling. A central table ran down the length of the room, its boards groaning under the weight of endless pewter platters on which candied meats, bowls of dried fruit, grilled vegetables and more were laid out. The walls were hung with tapestries depicting genteel scenes of the hunt and the court, with a truly huge portrait of a bearded, fierce-looking warrior dominating the rear wall over what might as well have been a throne.
The music was fine, however, the air filled with a breathless anticipation, and laughter and bold voices interwove themselves so as to make the party already seem a success. Everywhere I looked I saw glittering jewels, beautiful dresses, ostentatious masks, men in severe suits offset with bright colorful sashes worn obliquely across the chest.
It was, to be honest, a bit overwhelming; the heat already had my brow prickling with sweat, and the smell of roasted meat and so many bodies pressed together was pungent. We drifted forward with the crowd, allowing it to draw us into the heart of the room, simply gazing about ourselves without a plan until Elsa stepped away from a large circle of what looked to be admirers to approach us with a smile.
Despite her minimalist white mask that covered the upper half of her face, I had no doubt it was her; the shaved side of her head gave her away instantly, the rest braided and interwoven with a dozen miniature white rosebuds. Her ivory dress was cut in the same style as Cerys’, with shoulders and upper arms revealed, but with a plunging neckline that reached down past her sternum so that the sides of her breasts were visible, their full curvature revealed. Black gloves extended up past her elbows, and a diamond choker looked almost cruelly tight about her neck.
“Kellik. Cerys. Tamara. I’m so glad you’re here. I can barely believe this moment has finally arrived.”
Dozens of people were watching our interaction. Elsa was clearly a contentious and highly visible figure. Would associating with her ultimately prove a detriment? Too late now. I bowed politely then straightened with a smile. “You look a vision, Lady Beauhammer.”
Elsa flared out her skirt with one hand and curtseyed with all the grace of a noble born, her lips beneath her half mask pulled into a wry smile, eyes flashing. “And you look very handsome, Kellik. Though that suit. Alas.”
“Thank you for your generosity,” said Tamara, pulling her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, as if the sight of Elsa’s cleavage made her more aware of her own. “These dresses are gorgeous.”
“They don’t do you justice,” said Elsa, rising once more. “You both look as if you’ve stepped from an Ellosaint court and into our own humble Port Lusander hall.”
Cerys inclined her head. “Thank you. When should I speak with your father?”
Elsa half turned to regard the back of the room. “He’s currently ensconced with the final team, reviewing - I don’t know. Terms? Financial matters? He’ll emerge soon to present them, and then join the crowd. That’s when we’ll strike. We’ll have to move quick. There are several other hopefuls present who wish to make an impression. In the meantime, shall we mingle?”
I fixed a smile on my face. “That would be lovely.”
“Oh come,” she said, slipping an arm through mine. “It’s not that bad. I’ve known most of these people all my life and some of them are positively inoffensive.”
I snorted, causing Elsa to smile, pleased with herself, and allowed her to lead me through the crowd to stop at a small group of men and women clad in pale-blue robes who were standing in a circle, observing the party with dour expressions and no masks.
“Your holiness,” said Elsa, voice smooth and rich and utterly self-assured. “May I introduce a good friend?”
My smile suddenly felt like a lizard that had been pinned to the wall by a thrown dagger. As the five men and women turned to regard us, I saw the white circle with stylized flames undulating out from its edge over their chests, and realized just whom Elsa was going to introduce us to.
A group of high-level White Sun priests.
Their leader was a bald man with a face that could have been crudely chiseled from a block of granite; his brow was heavy and low, his nose had clearly been broken several times, and his cheeks might have been used once as an anvil on which to straighten horse shoes. Deep of chest, massive of shoulder, he was clearly either an ex-knight who’d grown accustomed to wearing heavy plate armor or a former smith. Now, however, he wore the silver stole of a Revelator of the White Sun, the highest local office one could encounter in any given city of sufficient size.
“Miss Beauhammer,” he said, with a voice like chewed gravel. “Always a pleasure. Whom do we have the honor of meeting?”
“The name’s Kellik,” I said, extending my hand. “The honor is mine, your holiness.”
His hand enveloped mine. It was all calluses and I was pretty confident he could have crushed every bone in my hand without effort. “Master Kellik. A new name. You are, I presume, interested in the magistrate’s ruins?”
I extricated my hand as carefully as one might pull it from a wolf’s jaws, and inclined my head. “We are indeed. Allow me to introduce Lady Cerys and Lady Tamara, both members of my team.”
His holiness bowed his head to each in turn, but his gaze lingered on Tamara for perhaps a few seconds too long. My concern suddenly grew very sharp indeed. Did they know each other from Tamara’s days with the White Sun? Did he sense something about her?
Elsa, oblivious, smiled winningly. “I have reason to believe Kellik will be leading his team into the ruins come tomorrow. I’ve already warned him to steer clear of your level.”
“Not ‘my level,’” said the man, tearing his gaze away from Tamara. “It belongs, if anything, to the church. And to be fair, if I had to ascribe it to any one individual, it would be Aurora.”
He turned and to my surprise bowed stiffly to one of the younger women in his group; she inclined her head politely in turn, as if accepting his homage, and when she turned her eyes upon me I saw that her irises were a pale white-gold, almost silver, and my blood ran cold when I realized with whom I was now about to converse:
The Exemplar of the White Sun.
So poised was she, so collected, that she exuded the natural reserve and dignity of a woman twice her age. Yet her features were smooth, unlined, and I’d have guessed her to be in her late twenties at most.
And - well. She was stunning. In her pale-gold eyes I saw a solemnity that spoke of a wisdom, a sober maturity, that elevated her striking looks to something more akin to handsome than merely pretty or even beautiful. Her skin was tawny gold, as if she spent hours each d
ay in the sun, and it was all too easy to imagine her in polished armor with a sword at her hip instead of the simple gown which she now wore.
“Master Kellik,” she said, voice husky and grave. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“And I, you,” I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “Excuse me, I’ve never met an exemplar of your faith before.” Best to be open about my nerves. She’d be less likely to suspect I was hiding something. “I have to admit I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Her platinum eyes studied me, the faintest of smiles ghosting across her unpainted lips as if in commiseration for my nervousness. “You’ve met others?”
“Others what?” I asked, thoughts scrambled.
Oh, but her self-assurance was as formidable as it was unassuming. The whole of the great hall seemed to fade away so that only we two remained. “Exemplars.”
“I have, yes.” Could she detect lies? What powers were hers? Why hadn’t I asked Tamara? Thank the Hanged God’s proclivity for buggery that the hall was so hot. My sweating wouldn’t go amiss. “One of the Hanged God’s, and another of Blind Fortuna.”
She raised a finely arched golden brow. “You’ve kept exalted company.”
Time to lose her interest by acting the callow rake. I bowed low, putting an extra flourish into my forward hand. “But none so breathtakingly beautiful as yourself, Lady Aurora. Of that I can swear.”
It purposefully overdone, and achieved the desired effect; she all but rolled her eyes, managed to hold onto her polite smile, and took a half step back to rejoin the ranks of the other White Sun devotees.
“A bold lad,” said his holiness. “But I salute your bravery. Few are so foolish to compliment Lady Aurora so swiftly upon meeting her.”
I straightened. “More fools them, then. I seize the moment as it presents itself, and say what I feel so that when I die, I shall not step into the Ashen Garden with regrets.”
“There is much to commend such a policy,” said his holiness. “Especially once it is tempered by the wisdom that comes of hard experience. I am sure you will accumulate such in short order.”
I bowed again, purposefully misunderstanding him, and allowed myself to sound pleased when I replied, “You honor me, your holiness.”
He grunted.
Elsa took that as an opportunity to take my arm once more, and after exchanging a few pleasantries guided us away.
“What was that?” hissed Cerys once we were out of earshot.
“What part?” I asked, pulling my mask aside to press my sleeve to my sweaty brow. “The part where Elsa introduced us to a revelator and exemplar, the part where they seemed to recognize Tamara, or my acting an idiot to deflect their attention?”
Elsa pouted. “Oh, come on. Why can’t we enjoy ourselves a little before risking our lives?”
Cerys’ voice was stony. “Because we’re about to risk our lives?”
Elsa waved a hand. “It adds a certain piquancy to flirt with danger. To tweak the tail of the cat. And what harm can it do? They know nothing of our plans, and by the time they discover them it’ll be too late.”
“She seemed formidable,” I said, voice low, looking to Tamara. “Aurora.”
“I know of her.” Tamara sounded wretched. She took a goblet from a servant’s tray as he passed us by and lifted her mask to sip a good amount of the wine. “She’s famous amongst the faithful of the White Sun, and not just for being an exemplar. She ascended when she was only twelve years old. Unheard of. Nobody before or since has been made exemplar before the age of eighteen. She’s from Ellosaint, the daughter of wealthy landgraves, but was taken by a group of bandits after they raided her father’s estate to be held for ransom. It’s said she killed their leader in single combat three days later, and turned the rest into worshippers of the White Sun who have since become respectable in large part because of her apotheosis.”
I frowned. “Bandits followed a twelve-year-old?”
“Stranger things have happened,” said Cerys. “I was eight when I began my training in Carneheim.”
“Training in what?” asked Elsa, feigning disinterest as she turned to snag a goblet of her own.
“Horseback riding,” said Cerys sweetly.
“It’s said she always radiated that same confidence and purpose.” Tamara glanced in the direction of the White Suns and just as quickly looked away. “This was sixteen years ago, after the collapse of the Vintner’s League. Did you hear of that? Chaos followed, and all the mercenary companies the league cities had hired turned to banditry. She supposedly led her group for six months from town to town, fighting bandits and forcing them to either join her or be hung as outlaws.” She took another gulp. “When she finally reached the Grand Temple in Olandipolis, it’s said she led an army two thousand strong. They knelt before the Silver Dome, filling the Solar Square completely, something that’s not been done since the funeral of Aegeric the White. She was taken into the church, her army was broken up, regiments sent to bolster temples across Khansalon, but I hear they still call themselves Aurora’s Blades, even today…” Tamara finished her goblet and set it down on the table. “The White Sun have mercy if we have to go up against her. What is she even doing here?”
“She arrived just a few months ago,” said Elsa, sobered now by Tamara’s words, “though they’ve been silent about why, exactly. There’s been much speculation as to what’s got them concerned. Either way, she’s rarely seen in public. My father will be inordinately pleased that she saw fit to attend.”
“To evaluate the likes of us,” I said.
Cerys smirked. “Speaking of which, you did uncommonly well. I wanted to slap you myself.”
“Strange. I thought that was how you normally felt about me. Tamara? I saw his holiness staring at you. Do you know him from before?”
Tamara shook her head. “No. Never met him. But he sensed something. I know he did. He’s Sworn, and a powerful one at that. He must have sensed my abilities. Perhaps he thinks me a wild talent. He’ll be curious about me now. Don’t leave me alone. He’ll corner me if you do.”
“Your own abilities?” asked Elsa, goblet held to her lower lip, tone speculative. “Were you… are you…?”
“Dearest Elsa,” said Cerys, leaning in and wrapping a gloved arm around her bare shoulders. “Some things are very, very private. I’m sure you understand?”
“Of course.” Elsa’s smile was impressively warm given how calculating her eyes remained. “Though perhaps we can speak of this some more before entering the ruins? We should be familiar with each other’s strengths.”
“Of course,” said Cerys, giving her a final squeeze. There was the sound of stitches tearing, and she immediately scowled. “Great.”
Tamara ducked behind her, traced the seam that ran up her side, and frowned. “Not too bad. It just tore an inch. Best if you don’t raise your arm again.”
“I think I’m ready for that wine,” said Cerys with a stiff smile.
I turned as a new group approached us, and again had that pleasant sensation of my heart seizing up in mild panic. Even behind his elegant mask I recognized the youth that stood to one side with his arm in a brace. The boy from the Fever Dream, Gremond’s son, scion of the Nautilus company.
Which… made the elegantly dressed older man in the lead Master Gremond. He wore a black domino mask, all black clothing, with a white cravat at his neck, and a gleaming black cane in hand. His iron-gray hair pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his creased brow and steely eyes indicated a forceful, almost cruel temperament.
“Mistress Beauhammer,” he said, voice a low drawl. “You look as enchanting as ever.”
“Master Gremond,” said Elsa with a graceful curtsy. She then turned and curtsied again to his son, and I remembered that they were to be betrothed. “Naveric.”
The son bristled. “I find your choice of company objectionable, my dear Elsa. Do you know this man?”
“Hello Naveric,” I said. “How’s the
arm?”
“This is Master Kellik,” said Elsa, “a new friend and soon to be explorer of father’s ruins. Is there a problem?”
The father smoothly retook control. “Oh, no problem, my dear, no problem at all. Master Kellik has had the misfortune of gaining my attention. I’m happy to see the man who treated both my son, a company resource, and the Nautilus’ reputation in so cavalier a form.”
For the briefest of moments I sought a means to extricate myself from this mess. A line of reasoning, a form of apology - something with which to diffuse the tension. But Naveric’s gloating and his father’s arrogance just plain rubbed me the wrong way.
“A word to the wise, Gremond,” I said, stepping in close. The two other men - obvious guards - dressed in gray with nautilus shells stamped over their hearts immediately tensed, hands going to their blades. “Don’t get in my way. I’ll be gone before you know it. What happened with your son was unfortunate, but I don’t regret it. Stupidity gets its own rewards. So why don’t we leave each other alone, and that way your company and son don’t need to suffer anymore?”
Gremond smiled, reached into his coat and drew forth a flat, silver case which revealed a row of tightly bound cheroots. He drew one forth, put the case away, and then leaned over the closest lamp to inhale as he placed the tip in the flame. Everybody just stood there and watched as he puffed his cheeks, taking his time, and something about the man, his presence, his calm, unruffled arrogance, drove home why he was the leader of so feared a company as the Nautilus.
Finally, he turned to me, smoke still in his lungs, and with a tight voice, replied, “Oh, have no fear, Kellik. I agree with you wholeheartedly. Stupidity is indeed its own reward.” And he exhaled, blowing an oily blue cloud of smoke in my face.
I forced myself to remain still, narrowing my eyes as I glared at him. Should I hit him now with my king troll power? Turn him to my will? Was this my best opportunity to do so? But then my gaze slid over to the knot of White Sun priests. What if one of them noticed my doing so? What if Aurora noticed?