Camille noticed his wince of pain. “These waters are very relaxing, but they also have healing properties. They will dull your pain,” she said. “Eventually your salves will kick in and you won’t feel a thing.”
The water did feel good. The initial shock of the high heat was gone and now he felt relaxed. “You’re right it is very nice.”
“Tell me, Nathan Stoneblood, did you really bring all of Balta to Solotine? That must’ve been very challenging.”
“It wasn’t me. I had very little to do with the decision to leave Balta. I wasn’t even in Balta when it happened. I was in Northern Solotine when the attack happened.”
“But are you not ruler of your lands? You invited the people of Balta to come to your lands.”
“I didn’t have lands of my own. It was a friend who made that happen.” Nathan then explained the story of how he left Balta to search for Ava and what Count Mavane did for him, granting him lands on the edge of his territory, creating a border between the Kingdoms of Elderwood and Tarnstead. His story continued to the building of Elderwood in the canyon to the north of his granted lands.
“I’m sorry to hear about the death of your friend. That must have been horrible.”
“It was very hard. When she disappeared during the first attack, it felt like a piece of me was missing. We were bonded magically but I couldn’t feel her at all. It was almost worse to find out she was alive and being tortured. Then when I thought we’d saved her only to find out she’d been poisoned, it was like having my heart torn out again. The only thing that saved me from falling into an abyss of pain and despair was Ava. She was so strong and so brave, I can’t dishonor her sacrifice. So, I have done everything I can to keep Rose safe.”
“You know you can’t protect her, not really. Sorry if that sounds harsh.”
“It’s okay. I know what you mean,” said Nathan. He thought about the truth of her statement. He couldn’t truly protect Rose or anyone for that matter, not without locking them up in a secure room and never letting them out, but he could give Rose the tools to protect herself, and provide a safe environment to live and learn in. Elderwood was that safe environment, as secure as any fortress. The outer walls would stand against any attacker. Inside the walls, Rose was surrounded by people he trusted. There was no safer place for her to grow up than the new Kingdom of Elderwood. The tools she needed to protect herself she would find and learn in magic school. Nathan sank deeper into the pool and stretched his neck. The hot water eased tension from his neck, very aware that bright green eyes were assessing his every move and word.
“What about this Lord Zellox? Do you think he is going to try to take Solotine next? Did you ever figure out who the other spy was?”
“I have no idea what Lord Zellox will do next. Verin and his military advisors believe he suffered enough losses taking Balta that he’d be crazy to attack any part of Solotine, but who knows. He used Darcarion mages and Morthon’s armies and warriors from Northern Solotine to attack Balta. This world is full of mercenary armies. Who knows how long it will be before he tries to expand his territories. I just know we need to be ready for anything. As for spies, my cousin Quinton is working on that.” Nathan frowned as it had been Quinton’s father who’d betrayed King Verbon. They’d since learned it was very likely that Brisson Bayson had been manipulated by a mage to betray his own family. Quinton was determined to find out the truth. Either way, his father had betrayed them, but if a mage was behind it they needed to find him and prevent it from happening again. Nathan ducked his head under the water to clear away the thoughts that were undoing the relaxing properties of the hot water.
“You live a very complicated life, Nathan Stoneblood.”
Nathan nodded in agreement, shaking the water from his face, and wiping it from his eyes. He often wondered if this was why his parents hid in Elderwood, to give him a simple childhood, free of the complications of royal life. There had been attacks, attempts to murder him before he was even born, but they could’ve moved to other cities in different lands, they chose a tiny village instead. “Yes, it can be complicated. That is why I like to do simple things like work in my blacksmith shop or take scouting trips into the badlands.”
Camille smiled. “Working in the blacksmith shop would be far safer.”
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t get to experience this.” The ponds were beautiful in a mystic sort of way and he really felt good despite his injuries from the fight with the trolls. His magic salves were good, but not that good. The hot pools were having a healing effect and had reduced his pain greatly. “Besides, I’ve learned the hard way bad things happen when cities don’t take the time to know and understand their neighbors.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that logic. We don’t see many visitors from the big cities and kingdoms of Solotine. The southwestern cities of Bompa and Wentworth do lots of trade with Venecia, and we do our trading with Bompa, so we don’t interact with others much.”
“I’ve never even heard of them. Come to think of it, I don’t even know the name of your village.”
“Layton is the closest village, but I am from Silver Vale, it’s much farther north. I will take you to Layton if you like. It is the closest western village to your Elderwood.”
“Yes, that would be appreciated. Is Layton an Ingla village?”
Camille stared at Nathan before answering. “You have to understand, these aren’t things we discuss, especially with easterners.”
“My apologies,” said Nathan. He had no intentions of causing issues for Camille with her people, he just wanted to understand them better.
“The answer to your question is yes, almost everyone west of the badlands is of Ingla descent. The southern cities, Bompa and Wentworth are more like Venecia, they have people of all types: Ingla, Currian, Chundo, and a few others. Most of them have lived there in peace for generations now. Most of the Ingla who live in the cities don’t use magic.”
“Thank you for your honesty. I’ve never understood why magic was so frowned upon in Eastern Solotine. I haven’t met anyone that truly seems to hate it, they’ve just never seen it.”
Camille raised an eyebrow. “Have you dealt with many people from Progoh or Bellmore?”
“Only traders that travel between the cities. I’ve never been to the capital or any of the far eastern cities.”
“I see,” said Camille. “Travelers tend to be open-minded. They are exposed to different cultures and see strange things that make them think. People that live in cities like Progoh are exposed to one culture. Have you never met a priest from the Curtah?”
“No, what is the Curtah?” Nathan had never really discussed religion with anyone from Tarnstead. The person he knew best was Count Mavane, and often they spoke of the events surrounding them, which usually involved bandits, mages, and kings. They’d never gotten into religion.
“From what I know, the Curtah was once the dominant religion among Currians. The Curtah believe only the gods and demons have magic. The Curtah had a militant sect that hunted anyone using magic. The Curtah isn’t the only religion in Solotine and there are only a few temples left in Solotine but most of them are in Tarnstead.”
“You know much of Tarnstead,” said Nathan.
“My father taught me to hunt, but it was my mother who taught me about the history of the Ingla. She is one of our high mages. She knows much about magic and the history of our people. We have never forgotten how many of our people have been hunted down and killed for using magic. Even to this day the threat of persecution is real. So, we keep a low profile. We mostly stay west of the badlands where we are not bothered. We send a few out to the cities and kingdoms of Solotine to find out what is going on, but only in secret. We are quite interested to see what happens with your Elderwood. It has been a long time since there was a city in Solotine that openly housed mages. Even in Venecia they are very discreet about magic use.”
“I think it is time to change that. I intend to show Solotine magic isn’t
something to be afraid of.”
“You are either very brave or very foolish,” said Camille with a smile. “I would like to see your city.”
“We are having a lunar festival, you should come. We intend to showcase the beauty of magic.”
“Very interesting. I will have to inform my mother. I’m sure a few of our mages might be persuaded to attend. There has never been a magic festival in Solotine.”
“There will be now,” said Nathan. But Camille’s warning about the Curtah wasn’t being ignored. He would make sure security was high during the festival, and he’d investigate the Curtah when he went to Raumont.
Camille started to rise. “Come, it’s time to get moving.”
Nathan lowered his head and waited for Camille to get dressed. His curiosity was eating at him, and she obviously wasn’t shy, but he was a prince of Elderwood and needed to act with dignity. His actions today and in the coming weeks would have an ongoing effect that could last a lifetime. He couldn’t let a moment of lustful curiosity ruin the relationship between Elderwood and its western neighbors before he even spoke with them.
“You can get out now,” Camille said. “I’m decent.”
Nathan started to rise but paused when he realized Camille had not turned her back.
“What? Is the royal body sacred and not to be looked upon by mere mortals, or are you ashamed of your body?”
Having never dealt with anyone like Camille before, Nathan wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m not ashamed. And I’m no god. I simply am not used to being so exposed in front of a woman.”
“Typical eastern modesty,” Camille said. “In the west we are a little more practical. Nudity isn’t a crime; false modesty is foolish. What if you’d been cut on your hip or thigh. Would you have pretended not to be injured, or refuse to let me help you because I might see your boy parts?”
Nathan shook his head. “Maybe in the west that makes sense. But I’m not ready for that. Now throw me my undershirt please.”
Camille laughed and chucked Nathan his undershirt. “Too bad. I was enjoying what I was seeing. Now hurry up you prude, we should get moving. Don’t want to be in the badlands after dark.”
7
Using the tip of his dagger, Lambert Symons scraped away the crud from beneath his fingertips. He sat back in the chair and put his feet up on the table.
Rodric Manchester nervously cleared his throat. “I’d ask you to remove your feet from my table.”
Lambert ignored the man. He examined the tip of his knife. It was black with crud. He wiped it on the edge of the table. “Now, you were telling me about those taxes. How about you go get the money and I’ll stay right here.”
Rodric Manchester groaned and slammed his hands down on the table beside Lambert. “I told you, as I told the tax collector, I can’t pay that much. It is double what I paid last month and ten times what I paid two years ago. I simply can’t afford to pay.”
Before Rodric could blink an eye, Lambert took his knife and slammed it down into Rodric’s left hand, pinning it to the table. Exploding out of the chair, Lambert grabbed Rodric Manchester by the throat and squeezed it in a vice-like grip.
“I don’t care how you get the money, just get it. Sell some of your prized breeding stock, sell your wife. I don’t care. But if I have to come back, my dagger will be going someplace else. Do you understand me?”
Rodric Manchester tried to speak but the hand around his throat prevented anything more than a couch from coming out. He grunted.
“What was that? Speak up man, I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
Rodric tried to grunt again as his face started to turn blue.
Lambert released his grip on Rodric’s throat. “I’ll ask you one more time. Am I going to have to come back here for taxes?”
Rodric gasped, taking in as much air as he could. He shook his head. “No.”
Lambert smiled. “Excellent. I knew you’d be a reasonable man and see things my way. You only needed a little convincing. Some fellas are a little more stubborn and need a lot of convincing.” Lambert pulled his knife from Rodric’s hand and wiped the blood onto Rodric’s shirt. “You have two days to deliver what you owe, or I come back for more convincing.”
The next stop on Lambert’s list was the Blustering Brenda Bar. As Lambert walked into the watering hole he looked around. The place was half full. An impressive number of drinkers for the time of day. There were still two hours till lunch. But you wouldn’t know the sun was bright and shining by the atmosphere in the bar. It was dark, what windows the place had, were tall but narrow, and the place had only half the number of wall torches it needed to keep the place well lit. No, it was obvious the owners and patrons of the Blustering Brenda liked a dark place to sit and drink. Lambert approved. Dark places for dark deeds. His kind of establishment.
Walking up to the main bar, Lambert made eye contact with the man behind the bar. A large, fat, balding man, with bloodshot eyes. At first glance the man might appear harmless, but Lambert knew better. Underneath the layers of fat were thick muscles, and those bloodshot eyes followed Lambert like a hawk.
Lambert leaned against the bar and smiled. “Good morning.”
The bartender put down the mug he’d been inspecting. “Nothing good about it if you are here.”
Still smiling, Lambert replied, “Ah, so you know who I am?”
The bartender nodded. “Know who you are and why you are here. But I ain’t paying more taxes. Go shakedown someone else.”
Lambert’s grin grew even wider. “You know, when I walked in the door I took one look at you and said to myself there is a man who is going to need a lot of convincing. Most of the fellows I deal with are amicable. Sure, they need a little reminder of how things work, but in the end, they always come around. You on the other hand. You don’t seem the sort to change your mind easily. But don’t worry, I’m not actually here to collect taxes.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed as he gripped the edge of the counter. “No? Then why are you here?”
“Do you remember the last tax collector that came here? Seems there was a misunderstanding.”
“You could say that. He tried to take the money I had in the till. I can’t sell drinks if I can’t make change. I sent him packing.”
“Yes, yes you did,” Lambert said. “Roughed him up a bit as well.”
The bartender nodded. “Nobody puts their hands behind my bar. I don’t allow thieving in this bar, even if it is in the name of the king.”
“An admirable trait, which brings me to why I am here. You put your hands on a man acting on the king’s behalf. Whether he was a fool or not is not relevant.”
“I thought about that. Thought maybe the king would get angry. But the thing is, the king has been moving his troops to the capital. There is barely a dozen of the king’s soldiers in this city. He can’t afford to send more men to deal with one lowly bar. Especially if that bar has protection.” The bartender knocked his knuckles on the hardwood counter. Six men, positioned all around the room, stood and started walking towards Lambert.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lambert Symons,” said one of the men as he approached the bar.
Lambert casually turned around. “Butter Bill. Is that you? I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Yes,” Butter Bill said. “Not since you double-crossed me and the boys on that pirate job and left us to die.”
“Yes, unpleasant bit of business that was. However, I found kings pay way better. And you were getting a bit big for your britches. But it looks like everything turned out fine.”
“Fine?” Butter Bill said as he raised his left hand to show the missing fingers. “Those pirates tortured us for three days before we managed to break out and escape. Half of our crew died because of you.”
“True. But look how well things have gone for you since then. You have a new gang and a thriving business here in Harrbow. Really a nice set up if you ask me. Big enough town that no one notices when a
traveler or two goes missing, or a tax collector gets beat up. Not to mention your other various side operations you have running here.”
Butter Bill looked at Lambert suspiciously, “What you talking about?”
Lambert laughed. “Oh, come on now, Bill. You know me better than that. When was the last time I walked into a bar and didn’t know everything about it first. I’ve known about your arrangement for months. I didn’t care. Not my job to care about a backwater city like Harrbow. Hell, the taxes collected here are barely worth the effort, bunch of damn fishermen and sailors. Hardly money makers if you know what I mean. No, the big cities are where the money is, but the king. He don’t see it like that. See, with all this talk of the western cities wanting to break off, the king can’t afford to have his tax collectors being molested or bullied by the likes of you, Butter Bill. It sends the wrong message to the common folk. Makes them think the king don’t care about Harrbow. And he does. He really does. For some stranger reason beyond me the king is concerned about Harrbow joining Blackpool.”
Butter Bill frowned. “What in the seven hells does that have to do with me?”
Lambert shook his head. “Bill, don’t you see? The king needs to make an example. Who has the biggest gang in Harrbow? That’s right, Bill, it’s you. So, when the biggest gang in town tries to protect a bar from paying its taxes it looks bad for the king.”
“And how did you know we were working with Fredrick here?” Butter Bill asked.
“I visited his wife. Lovely lady she is. Hates that Fredrick here spends all his time with the little tarts he has working for him. When she found out how much money Fredrick owes the king she slipped all of Fredricks dirty little secrets.” Lambert turned and looked at the bartender. “Sorry, Fredrick.”
The bartender swore. “That fat cow.”
“I’ve had enough of this. Lambert, it’s time you got what is coming to you. I owe you big for what you did to me and the boys.” Butter Bill raised his sword and started stalking towards Lambert. “Get him boys. But leave him alive. He needs to suffer.”
Treachery in Tarnstead Page 7