Wrath of Kings

by Glen Cook

  Father Kendo died forty hours after his capture, in fire, screaming, by popular demand. But first they nailed him to a sign blessing those victims whose names he remembered.

  The interrogations of the priest and his surviving victims produced the names of a dozen adults whose crimes against children were only slightly less obscene.

  Dahl Haas said, “Something has changed in Vorgreberg…”

  A Mundwiller youth interrupted. “Remarkable news! King Bragi is alive! He’s a prisoner in Shinsan. But they’re going to send him back.”

  The first part was not news. The rest? Neither Dahl nor Kristen knew how to take that.

  Dahl said, “Sounds like they want us to think he’ll be their puppet.”

  “They wouldn’t send him back if they didn’t see an advantage.”

  Their nipping at the news did not last. Ozora summoned them.

  The old woman said, “Fortune has played a prank. Just when we’re headed toward the end of the harvest, with the weather turning, when neither we nor the Queen can do much, we get this news.”

  Ozora paused. Neither Kristen nor Dahl had any response.

  “All right. Tell me what’s going to happen.”

  Kristen said, “I couldn’t guess. Bragi being alive will touch every Kaveliner—and our neighbors, as well. The response is beyond me. I’m out of touch.”

  Dahl nodded. “I expect nostalgia. People longing for the good old days. But these days are pretty good, despite us and Inger. Yeah, we have a civil war going. Technically. But nobody has killed anybody since…” He stopped. The last known casualty had been Sherilee.

  Ozora agreed. “All true. How will the news affect Inger? And Varthlokkur?”

  Dahl said, “I couldn’t guess about Inger. She’s unpredictable.”

  Kristen said, “Let’s just sit tight. Somebody could be blowing smoke.”

  Dahl added, “Maybe the news will get Inger to do something dumb.”

  Ozora said, “Then passivity remains our strategy. You two try to stay invisible.”

  Later, in private, Kristen said, “Ozora has begun to regret having taken us in.”

  “She’s afraid your father-in-law will come back all blood and thunder and slavering after revenge.”

  They made love for a long time.

  Afterward, Kristen asked, “Revenge on who?”

  “Interesting question. Once upon a time the answer might have been Kavelin, for having failed him. But, assuming Mist wouldn’t send a crazy man back, nobody, now. Anybody he’d have a real beef with is out of play. By now, he must realize that he failed Kavelin, not the other way around.”

  It was raining, a late autumn drizzle that seemed colder than it was. Inger sat in her coach, shivering despite being buried in a mound of comforters. Josiah Gales, sharing, shook constantly. She raised a window cover, leaned out to see if any progress had been made. She saw only the droopy misery of her driver and team. “I should have waited in the castle.”

  Gales nodded. “It waited this long. A few days more means nothing.”

  Inger ground her teeth. Josiah was like this all the time now. Always with the sharp word. Wachtel said he was in constant pain. She thought that he had had plenty of time to get better.

  She would not tolerate this much longer.

  A lie to herself. Josiah was all she had. Sickly Josiah and sickly Fulk. And maybe Nathan Wolf. So pathetic.

  Babeltausque opened the door. “I was right! We found it! Uh… I think we found it. We’re dragging it out now.”

  “I want to see this. Umbrella, Colonel.”

  Gales dug one out of the stuff piled on the seat opposite. He handed it to the sorcerer. He would not leave the coach himself.

  Babeltausque was too short and too wide to keep Inger sheltered. She took the umbrella. Out of earshot of Gales, Babeltausque murmured, “I think the Colonel is sicker than he pretends.”

  Startled, she said, “Oh?”

  “He picked up something ugly while he was a captive. Wachtel doesn’t know how to fight it.”

  “Do you?”

  “No. I don’t do serious healing.”

  They neared a half-acre farm pond that had not featured on the sorcerer’s original list. It lay a mile from the nearest city gate. Though not a cesspool it was nasty enough. Cattle and hogs watered there. Neither species was shy about evacuating while drinking. The pond had been in place for decades. Its bottom consisted of several feet of noisome mud.

  “Is he dying?” Inger asked.

  “I don’t know. He is getting weaker. Varthlokkur might be able to turn that around.”

  The wizard had not returned to the Dragon’s Teeth. That made everyone nervous.

  “Would he help?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask. He is the one who can. Try making a deal. Ah! Here it comes.”

  Nathan and several soldiers had been dragging the pond by casting grappling hooks. Now they were working something that kept getting away. Inger expected their optimism to be wasted. That could be anything.

  Nathan went into the cold water, retrieved something. He swished the mud off, headed for his sovereign.

  “It’s a chest.” He held up a plain box four inches high, six wide, and sixteen long. It stank. So did Wolf. “It might be teak.”

  It was. Inger said, “We’re in the right place. There should be a little ceremonial scepter in there.”

  Wolf fumbled the simple latch. “Sorry. My fingers are so cold they won’t work right.”

  He got the box open.

  “Damn!” Inger swore. “Damn it all to hell! What the…?”

  The prophesied scepter was there but in an ugly state of decay.

  Babeltausque said, “It was a fake.”

  “It wasn’t when Fiana was queen.”

  “Then Bragi was a crook.”

  Wolf said, “Someone was.”

  Inger snapped, “Drain the pond, Nathan. Muck it out. Find the rest of the treasure.” She had a feeling that this would not turn out well.

  Feet wet and freezing, the rest of her damp, Inger clambered back into the coach. Josiah asked, “Bad news?”

  “So it seems.” She explained. “The jewels were junk. They’d partly melted. And now I’m remembering that only two men, one very old, carried the treasure away. How much could they lug, real or fake?”

  “I hoped they’d taken mostly gold.”

  “I’m expecting fool’s gold now.”

  Varthlokkur had warned her that she would be disappointed.

  Members of the castle garrison tagged along wherever Varthlokkur went. He shook them off when so inclined. They expected that and did not resent it.

  Why had he come out in this cold rain? Whatever he did was sure to come a disappointment.

  He let his tails see him enter Arnulf Black’s butcher shop. That pathetic villain had been questioned by Babeltausque, who declared him a bleak pervert whose need was to humiliate the weak and build himself up by tormenting the helpless. He abused his girls but did not murder them. Even the weakest eventually ran away.

  In that impoverished quarter Black had no trouble finding replacements.

  Varthlokkur left the shop. His shadows did not see him go. They had other things on their minds.

  He headed for a nearby apothecary shop.

  Arnulf Black said his girls usually ran to the druggist, whoever the druggist was.

  The shop had been there forever but had changed hands a year ago. The new druggist was the son, grandson, or nephew of the man who had retired.

  The wizard expected it to be closed and those associated with it to be gone. Chames Marks had to know he was being watched. But the door opened when Varthlokkur tried it. The overhead bell jingled.

  A girl came through the curtains filling the doorway to the rear. Varthlokkur guessed her to be eleven or twelve. She was drying her hands on an old grey rag. She started to make an apology.

  She looked straight at him.

  She blanched. Her mouth
worked but nothing came out. She had trouble breathing.

  What was this? The child ought to have no idea who he was.

  He made a quick gesture with his left hand. Her gaze followed. He said, “Stay where you are.”

  She froze. Varthlokkur considered his surroundings. This was a serious apothecary shop, whatever else it might be—assuming the contents of those containers matched their labels.

  Here was a fortune in medicine.

  “What is your name?”

  “Seline, sir. Seline Shalot.”

  “Where is your master?”

  “Making a delivery in Eatherton Close. Belladonna. Dr. Jaspars uses it. He should be back soon.”

  “Why didn’t you make the delivery?”

  “Chames thought it might not be safe. What’s been happening to girls around here has him worried.”

  Varthlokkur put her under deeper so she would not resist more personal questions.

  Chames had not touched her. It was all right if he wanted to. He was good to her. He might have been intimate with Haida. Haida had bragged that he was. It was no big thing.

  Someone came in the back way. Varthlokkur heard a clunk and clatter and muttering, then the tread of shod feet headed their way. “Seline, I need you to pull jars while I formulate. We have a big wholesale order…”

  Varthlokkur grinned wickedly. “Well! Hello. This puts a new spin onto everything.”

  “I fooled myself,” Babeltausque complained to Nathan Wolf. It was dark. A fire, shielded from wind and rain by a tent under the constant assault of the elements, did not yield enough light to continue work.

  Wolf agreed. “You should’ve thought about the weather before you told her. You knew she’d go nuts.” There were bits of ice in the rain. They stung.

  The pond was empty. The dam side had been broken. Rainwater was flushing the muck. Babeltausque, Wolf, and several miserable soldiers took turns keeping the outflow burdened.

  They had recovered six coins. Two were silver. None were gold.

  “You’re right. But that’s not what I mean. Nobody will know if we just get in and hunker down by the fire.”

  “She can’t fire us. What were you talking about, then?”

  “Those men who attacked me. I marked them with tracer spells.”

  “So you could see where they ran. So?”

  “So I lost them. They left town. I should’ve grabbed them.”

  Wolf grunted, disinterested. He was busy quitting work. He kept his back to Babeltausque so the wizard could not read his expression. “This will at least clean the pond out.”

  Babeltausque glanced that direction, was content to let the darkness have the pool. “I hope we have enough firewood.”

  Ozora Mundwiller told Kristen, “Inger found the missing treasury.”

  Kristen slumped.

  “Take heart. They didn’t find much. Not enough for Inger to clear her debts. She won’t be hiring any troops.”

  “That’s good news, then.”

  “The wizard may have gone home, too. He hasn’t been seen lately.”

  “More good news.”

  “To old news. Did you try to kill Inger’s sorcerer?”

  “No.” Kristen had heard about that but had given it no thought.

  “Nor did I. Who, then? The sorcerer said they were Wessons.”

  “Which would rule out the Marena Dimura. But they aren’t heard from much anymore, anyway.”

  “So who, then?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “In the sense that it may affect us, of course it does. The enemy of our enemy isn’t necessarily our friend.”

  “The eastern empress could have hired them.” But that was silly. Mist would be more direct. “No. Of course not. Maybe some Nordmen.”

  “But the Estates, nominally, support Inger and Fulk.”

  “How about Aral Dantice?”

  “Or Michael Trebilcock? Is he still alive?”

  Kristen said, “I think so. How about you, Dahl?”

  “Word would have gotten around if he really died.”

  Kristen said, “Maybe if we knew why he was attacked?”

  Haas said, “I’ll go try to find out.”

  “Or you could stay here and keep me happy.”

  “I could do that, too.” Haas chose that course. But he did poke around in the shadows of Sedlmayr when he could get out of the Mundwiller complex unnoticed. He did not learn anything useful.

  “I see three possibilities,” Babeltausque told the usual gathering. “What we found is a red herring. The King took the treasury with him and Shinsan has it now, which is what I think happened. Or, what we dredged up really is the whole treasure and Kavelin was broke before we took over.”

  Inger scowled at the “we” but let it slide. “Or somebody got to it before we did.”

  Gales asked, “Somebody who could keep from bragging or spending a farthing?”

  Wolf agreed. “Nobody could keep that secret. Even if they took the money out of the kingdom. We would’ve heard.”

  Babeltausque nodded agreement.

  So. They all thought she had been chasing a fantasy, making wishful thinking over into policy. “Then we have to rely on ourselves after all. How much goodwill have we gained by rooting out those abusers?”

  Wolf remarked, “The perverts aren’t happy.” He glanced at the sorcerer. Babeltausque scowled back.

  Vigilante justice had caught up with several bad men. An especially vile bordello had burned. The mob responsible also laid into several known thieves, a moneylender, and his collectors.

  Inger said, “We should clamp down. How do we do that if we can’t pay our soldiers?”

  Gales suggested, “There’s always the old-fashioned way. Steal from them who do have money.”

  Inger growled, “Cynicism noted. That would require soldiers, too.”

  Gales observed, “Nothing should happen before the world sees what happens with the old king.”

  Inger asked, “Has anyone seen Varthlokkur?”

  Headshakes. Wolf said, “I’ve heard that he went back to the mountains. I don’t believe it. He’d want to know what Shinsan is up to here, first.”

  Inger suggested, “Maybe he hasn’t been seen because he doesn’t want to be seen.”

  “That sounds right to me.”

  “So what might he be up to while he’s keeping his head down?”

  “Maybe trying to find the portals Shinsan has here,” Babeltausque said. “That’s what I’d be doing if I wasn’t trying to find treasury money that probably doesn’t exist. Those portals might be a lot more important than the money.”

  Inger glared. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning we’re here and in charge because the Empress Mist hasn’t yet developed a taste for Kavelin.”

  Inger’s glare intensified. She was severely displeased. But Babeltausque had not said an untrue word. Kavelin could no more defend itself than could a naked virgin in a coma.

  She admitted, “Facts are facts. We’re dead meat if that’s what Shinsan wants.”

  Josiah said, “The Nordmen and Wessons would resist.”

  Nathan Wolf nodded. “But not on our behalf. And, probably, not very effectively.”

  Inger shuddered. “All right. It’s true. We’re in the stew. There are no obvious or easy ways out. Basically, we spent a year getting ourselves into a place where we either have to run away or throw ourselves on the mercies of our subjects.”

  Wolf said, “That could end up ruining the monarchy.”

  He did not need to explain. Exactly that had happened in Ruderin only two years ago. The crown there never recovered from the Great Eastern Wars. The nobility so weakened the central authority that King Byar became nothing but a national symbol. Ruderin was in worse chaos than Kavelin. As in Kavelin, a bountiful harvest had contributed heavily to a root level economic resurgence. That, in turn, had enfeebled the normal human inclination toward bad behavior.

  One poor harvest and both kingdoms wo
uld descend into banditry, plagued by petty warlords.

  Inger saw that future plainly. Anyone with half a brain could see it. But no one would yield anything of their own to prevent it.

  “Call a parliament,” Inger blurted.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Send out word, Josiah. I’m calling the Thing, made up the same as last time.” She raised a hand to forestall comment. “I know. Some of them are dead. People know who the heirs should be. Just get the word out. We have to pull everyone together.”

  Wolf said, “That’s begging for trouble. Begging for it.”

  “And I’ll give it back if they ask for it.” Pure bluster, that. “A Thingmeet should be good for Vorgreberg. All those people will be here spending money.”

  The men eyed her curiously, wondering whence that notion had sprung.

  It had begun as a fantasy about gathering all the troublemakers in one place so she could massacre them. Her thoughts had trickled on to possibilities less bloodthirsty.

  She said, “Babeltausque, you can drop the treasure search. Find Mist’s transfer portals instead. And any other evidence that Shinsan is still interested in Kavelin. Assuming Varthlokkur hasn’t found the stuff already.”

  “Your Majesty?” Then, “Of course. As you will.” He got it. Inger had found an enemy everyone could hate.

  A Thingmeet must, inevitably, devolve into incessant squabbling. Meantime, though, everyone would forget about fighting one another. Every grownup remembered the occupation by Shinsan…

  And everyone attending the Thingmeet would have to spend money. So Vorgreberg would fall in love with Inger all over again for the first time.

  For the first time in months hope surfaced. Too much, really. But… Hope!

  Inger said, “Once the summons goes out we issue new regulations for innkeepers, taverners, merchants, and so on. They will allow no credit. They will demand cash in advance, of which a tithe will be ours. They won’t do business with who already owes them, either. A Thing member who dodged his obligations before will make good beforehand or not be seated. And we will take a tithe.”