“Balderdash!” Scoffed the Duke. “Such things do not happen!”
Zya nodded weakly and looked up. “Yes, they do. Another dream unfolded as you were speaking to me earlier this evening. Ju witnessed it. The mercenary turned protector, his plight was the cause for some great worry a while back for us. Aah.”
Zya clenched again, and the Duke looked at Ju. “How come you do not suffer?”
“Who said that I don't suffer?” The boy countered. “Your wife, has she had anybody of note in her quarters?”
“She is always dallying with wizards, trying to beg their focus stones off of them. Maybe she has had merchants in there too. It is not uncommon for her to have strangers in my palace. Who knows what she might have stored in her rooms.”
“Do your wife's rooms face the sea?” Zya asked between gritted teeth. “These wizards will need that.”
“They do.” The Duke leaned back in his chair. “Look, you have both asked me to take a lot on faith here, with the only certainty being that I am more confused now than I was when I got out of bed this morning. I will show you to my wife's quarters in the West wing.”
Zya gasped, a slow intake of breath becoming a rush. “That is where they are. I can feel them now, sending out the focus to the western Isle. We must go quickly. We are running out of time.” Zya's pleading look made the Duke stand immediately to assist her, but as he did so, a fracas at the back of the hall caused him to stop and stare as his wife barged through a knot of half-drunk guests. His face slipped from panic to icy hate as O'Bellah stepped into the room behind her. “It would be best if you two were not here to witness this. Ju, help your foster sister through the curtain behind the dais. You will find an alcove leading to a passage. Wait there and I shall send a guard.”
“May providence guide you, my Lord.” Zya blessed him prophetically.
“That or a quick sword hand,” he answered.
Aided by Ju, Zya made her way down to the alcove at the back of the dais. If anybody noted her departure, it was well masked by the now raucous crowd filling the hall. They opened the curtains and sat down on a cushioned seat of stone in the shadows.
“Leave the curtain open, Ju. I want to see what happens.”
Zya peered through the narrow gap, and Ju made it larger for her. “How do you feel?” He asked.
She smiled. “Better for the moment. Ju if I should pass out or something worse happen to me, you have to stop those wizards. What they are doing is unnatural and I swear the Gods themselves are frowning upon us all. They are working in waves, sending out focuses once they have recharged their minds. That is why it feels worse from time to time. The waves are getting closer now, and if we do not do something soon, I feel it might be too late. They are building up to an immense release of energy.”
“But against who?”
“I do not know, but whomever we dreamed about on that ship is in perilous danger, and we must save them.”
Ju pulled back the curtain so that it provided an oblique view of the dais, a view from which nobody could see them but the Duke, who gave her a short but very grave glance. Up in front of the gathered crowd the Duchess approached her husband. She had obviously gone to great lengths to make herself appear relaxed and attractive, but to Zya's trained eye she was nothing more than a fat wench in too much make-up with clothes several sizes too small. She could hardly breathe in the corset she was wearing, and Zya knew that only carefully placed pins stopped the rolls of fat from poking out. By the time she reached the dais with her escort consisting of O'Bellah and two guards, she was nearly fainting from the effort.
“It is a joy to see you looking so fine on this special evening.” The Duke spoke warmly, but Zya could feel the disgust in the Duke's words from her seat.
“It is an honour to be received as so, my husband,” Duchess Deborah replied. “This is a companion of mine who I have the pleasure of introducing. O'Bellah is a merchant from the interior of the Duchy,”
O'Bellah nodded his head, smirking as he did so.
“Quite,” the Duke replied, not even attempting to hide the insult implied in his short reply. “A merchant indeed. How is it that you come to me now when you should have been by my side all of the evening so far?” By now, most of the gathered gentry and assorted guests had quietened enough to pay attention to the exchange on the dais, though quite a few were still very noisily making merry. The din was enough not to distract the people they had come to gawk at.
“I have been busy in the city, my husband. I have been greeting the populace on this joyous day.” That much was technically true, thought Zya, and Ju grinned as he had the same thought. “If I have been overlong in my preparation, it was only because I did not want to disappoint you. Here, I have had some of your special wine brought from the cellars.”
The Duke looked at the bottle, eyeing the neck for a moment. “Oh, you have not disappointed me, my wife,” he replied with the tone of an adder about to strike, “you have just confirmed my faith in you.”
Deborah glowed at this perceived complement, though it was anything but. “Would you like a glass of wine?” She asked as innocently as a small girl begging for sweets from a candy maker.
“Do you know what, I believe that I shall. Come sit beside me, my wife, and we shall toast this evening together.”
The Duchess looked less than pleased at that proposal to Zya's eye, but gave no outward sign of any distress to the Duke. O'Bellah seemed to look on in mild disinterest, his attention elsewhere. “May the good merchant join us?”
“The good merchant,” the Duke replied sarcastically. “Is that such a good idea? Think of our privacy.” The Duke believed them, that much was very clear.
The Duchess frowned. “But you were entertaining as we arrived, I saw you. It should only be right that I am afforded the same privilege.”
The Duke nodded at his wife's knowledge of court ways. The Duke and Duchess were equals. What one did, the other was obliged to do in most cases. Unfortunately for him, this was one of those times when his wife left her petty pursuits behind and invoked her rights. “You are of course correct, my dear. Seat the good merchant beside you and he can regale us with tales of creaky wheels and dodgy deals.”
Zya cringed. Although his words were lost on his wife, who was too busy being smug about having got her way, O'Bellah had mottled at the insult. It was as she was watching the scene unfold that a sharp pain bit into her stomach and she nearly rolled forward off of her seat.
“What is it?” Ju nearly yelled, kneeling down on the floor to stop her from falling through the curtain.
“It is time,” she whispered in reply, “the forces are gathering. One more wave like that and they are done for. Our only chance of saving that ship from being sunk before its time is to stop them and we have to act.” She looked up to see the Duke uncorking the bottle of poisoned wine. Had he listened to her after all?
Pouring two goblets of wine, the Duke set them before his wife and their guest. “Please, do not wait on me on a night like this.”
The Duchess looked warily at her goblet. “Will you not be joining us?”
“Oh for certain, but since I have already got a full goblet of wine, there is no point me overfilling my cup is there?” The Duke raised his goblet to the crowd that watched them. “I charge you all to raise a toast to the springtime!”
“THE SPRINGTIME!” Yelled back the crowd, and downed what drinks they had to hand. The Duchess and O'Bellah held their goblets, but did not taste the wine within.
“What is this?” The Duke said loudly, turning from the crowd to the couple beside him. “You did not drink the toast! You dare insult my table? You had better do so now.”
“I do not feel well, my husband,” Deborah replied. “My stomach is not what it once was, and I feel that should I drink any more wine then I might not recover.” She looked mutely to O'Bellah for support, but he ignored her.
“To the feast,” O'Bellah said with a sneer, and drank his wine. It had
the desired effect. As she saw O'Bellah drink the wine, the Duchess came to the realisation that it could well be a hoax. “I think I could manage a sip or two,” she said sheepishly.
“You do that,” the Duke replied.
The Duchess looked over to O'Bellah for reassurance, and he nodded gently. The Duke, who flicked a hand behind his back and motioned his guards into readiness, did not miss this gesture. They changed their stances, loosening whatever weapons they held beneath their cloaks. The crowd, oblivious to the potential for savage violence, looked on, talking amongst themselves when the pause became unbearable. The Duchess, buoyed with confidence from her paramour, tentatively took a sip from the goblet, and when nothing happened drank more deeply. She looked from man to man, and then stood up. Her legs wobbled, and she had to lean on the table for support. “Would you like some now?” She asked the Duke, and then clutched at her stomach as she convulsed in pain, letting out a scream that drowned out any other noise in the hall.
“Thus do those who conspire against the Duchy perish.” The Duke said coldly. “My own wife brought poisoned wine to my table this very evening, this special evening. The proof lies open for all to see, the penalty for treason has already been dealt by her own hand.” The Duke turned to look at O'Bellah. “The only thing now is for her conspirator to join her.”
O'Bellah ignored the Duke's threat. He was focussed on the suffering of yet another human being. “Antidote, Deborah, that is what you lack. I however was dosed with enough for me to have finished off that bottle myself.”
The Duchess whimpered as her eyes became unfocussed, and she tried to make a grab for him. O'Bellah pushed her to the ground with satisfaction, relishing every painful moment. Aware that the Duke approached him from the other side of the dais, he raised his hand, which contained a bottle of antidote. “Stand fast! She will die without this!” It was too late already. The poison, which was supposed to have been pleasurable, was actually constricting her windpipe, and her face had nearly turned black.
“I think the woman is beyond help already. But you we shall have a wonderful time dealing with, whoever you are.”
“I think not.” O'Bellah countered. “Now!”
At his command, several of the onlookers threw their cloaks off and bellowed war cries. Brandishing swords, they rushed the dais, cutting down several revellers who did not even know what hit them. Women screamed, and several men attempted to actually use the rapiers they wore, but were cut down. The hall erupted into chaos as more mercenaries attempted to enter through the hallways. In the middle of it all, O'Bellah drew a sword of his own, one that had been hidden about his person. The Duke grinned in response, and leaving the mercenaries to his guards drew his own blade. It sang out in rapturous joy as it was unsheathed, and at that point both Zya and Ju stood up. It was a weapon from the same source as their own. Ju put his hand to his bow, and Zya held her dagger, and for a moment the three of them were locked as one mind. It confused the Duke, who dropped his guard, and O'Bellah sliced along his arm.
Without thinking, Zya hurled a focus of pure force against O'Bellah, and it threw him across the line of guards and back into the midst of his own mercenaries. Shaking his head as he stood, he tried to see who was responsible. “KILL THE DUKE! A THOUSAND CROWNS TO THE MAN WHO BRINGS ME HIS COLD, DEAD HEART!”
The mercenaries roared in blood lust and threw themselves against the Duke's guard, who were backed up by the Duke himself. The room was nearly empty of guests now, with several brave men throwing aid to the Duke's guard. They were overwhelmed by the mercenaries, but fought with skill, wounding and maiming rather than killing outright. Soon enough the fallen mercenaries were starting to get in the way of their comrades, but the flow of mercenaries into the hall did not lessen as more and more answered the call of their leader. For his part, O'Bellah was actually still dazed, despite his orders, and he had no idea of what had hit him. He started beyond the slaughter, though his eyes did linger at all of the blood. “Bring in the stakes!” He commanded. “Let them see the means by which their miserable lives will end!” There would be suffering for any survivors of this fight, enough that the Golem would be satiated for a while. “Press the flanks! You!” He pointed at a squad of mercenaries that had not been touched by the Golem and therefore were more than halfwits. “Close the right flank. Make it past the dais and earn a month's wages for the head of the Duke!”
Behind his guard, the Duke was still overcome by the sharing of thoughts for that brief moment with Zya and Ju. He dropped back, and turned towards the alcove. Closing on it, he stopped short of going through. “Are you still there?” He asked.
“We are,” Zya replied, “are you well?”
“You know the answer to that as well as I, Zya S'Vedai, daughter of Tarim, tribal seer and wizard of one order but spell caster of many. What happened there?”
Zya peeked around the curtain, flicking a focus out that incapacitated one of the mercenaries long enough for the defending guard to avoid a killing stroke and deliver one of his own.
“From what I seem to know of you now, you should not even be here.”
“Correct,” Zya agreed, “but Ju said he was going to save your life, and that is behind what we do now. Motive is everything, my Lord Duke.”
The Duke looked over at the blackened corpse of his late wife. “Hester, my name is Hester. Please stop calling me 'My Lord Duke'; it gets tedious, even in situations such as this. We need to get you to her rooms, and then maybe we can sort this mind-linking trick of yours out.”
“It has to do with the weapons, Hester. They are linked somehow. LOOK OUT!” Zya jumped past the Duke, her eyes ablaze as three mercenaries broke through the left flank. Ignoring the cries of protest, she sent a focus of lightning speeding towards them that left them roasting where they stood. At the same time Zya spotted a familiar face peeking into the hall. Bethen had finally found her way to the feast. She looked across the hall to the dais, and locked eyes with Zya. For an instant there was recognition and understanding. A wave of hate emanated from the girl. This wave was cut off as Bethen was run through from behind by one of the mercenaries. Her eyes filmed over and she dropped to the floor, surrounded by only her shredded dress and a pool of blood.
Zya's action had not been missed by O'Bellah, who came face to face with the adversary that had handled him like a rat in a trap. Something else nagged at him about her, but he only caught a glimpse of her – tall and long dark hair. The reason he recognised that was forgotten in the heat of battle. “CATCH THE GIRL! FORGET THE DUKE! SHE IS ALL THAT MATTERS!” He roared. The mercenaries shifted with the change of orders, and the Duke called back two of his guards. “Take these two to the apartments of my ex-wife and do whatever they command. They act with my authority.” That was enough for the guards, and to plug the gap in his line, the Duke himself jumped to the fore, his sword flashing like a crimson spectre in the blood and flame. “For Ciaharr, the Duchy!” he cried, and as Zya turned to look, she caught the glance of O'Bellah. Finally he had seen the prey he had been unknowingly chasing for so many moons.
* * *
The ship lurched to one side as the waves caught the Grotesque in a crossfire of violent shudders. The two great waterspouts that joined the seething sea to the maelstrom above were less than a league off, and despite the fact that the ship was moving with all the combined efforts of the wizards thus far, still the unnatural current prevailed against them.
“It is no use,” Keldron gasped as he held onto the railing at the stern of the ship, “we cannot move the ship far enough to catch the wind again.”
Raoul nodded in agreement, but panted instead of speaking. Only Belyn continued to try.
“Give it up, Bel,” Raoul urged his larger friend, “you will only tire yourself out by continuing this alone. We need to harbour our strength against what is to come.” He looked up at the towers of water, columns of spiralling darkness more ominous than anything he had ever witnessed. This was not how his existence was meant to
end, not in a watery grave, not if he could help it. “If we can find a way to avoid them at all.” He added quietly.
“We need to make a decision about the rest of the crew, “Keldron urged, as he looked out at the crew standing fascinated by what could possibly be their final hurrah, “they can reach the shore in the boats attached to the side of the ship.”
“Not everybody on here is going to fit into those boats, wizard.” Curtis disagreed, his violent breath providing a welcome distraction to the finality of the situation.
“I know, captain. That is why we have to decide who goes, and who stays.”
Curtis looked around at his immediate crew. Some hard decisions had to be made. “I am staying!” He announced. “I want volunteers for a skeleton crew to keep the ship afloat. Who is with me?!”
The entire crew of the Grotesque raised their hands in yells of 'ME!' or 'I WILL!', and Curtis smiled his feline grin. “That decides it men. I commend you all, and by the Gods we will have a celebration when we reach Rhothamy! Current watch! You will stay. The rest of you, get our passengers safely ashore. Man the boats, lads. You got some rowing ahead of you. You know what to take, and what to do.” Curtis turned now to the three wizards. “What will you do? You can go with the rest if you wish.”
“We will be staying, and perhaps we can get us all out of this mess yet.” Belyn decided for them all. Raoul looked about to say something, but Keldron's icy stare shut him up and finally he nodded in rueful agreement.
“If you are staying, then so are we,” Yerdu announced from the steps to the deck below. A flash of gold showed that Joleen was with her also. “You will not cast us aside when it suits you all to play the hero, Kel.”
“I can, actually,” he disagreed, “and I will. Captain, these ladies will be going with the rest of the tribe, willing or otherwise. If we have to bind them then so be it, but they are not to be left on this ship.”
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 61