The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1)

by JF Smith

  He wondered if Roald was still furiously trying to install himself into his new commission as the Lord Marshal. Roald had returned to Lohrdanwuld a couple of days after him, but Gully had barely seen him since then. The few times that he had seen him, Roald had been fretful and preoccupied with fully taking on the office of the Lord Marshal, so Gully had left him alone. He was the prince regent, so he supposed he could have demanded Roald’s presence, but he had no intention of ever using his position over Roald in that way. He hoped that Roald had actually stopped long enough to have some dinner tonight.

  Gully’s attention returned to the conversation long enough to hear Lord Rysean veMulle’s wife comment to one of the other wives, “Are you speaking of the dress shop in the south end of the King’s Market? I hear the shopkeeper has done marvelous things with beading on his dresses! Oh, please, we should have him bring a selection around tomorrow!”

  Gully stopped listening once again and took a bite of the stewed venison instead, but found it had lost all flavor. He drank a quaff of the mead that had been poured into his goblet, and found he regretted even that. It was a very fine plum mead, and it only served to remind him of the night not so very long before where he and Roald had sat on the rooftop drinking the plum mead he had stolen. He wished he had that Roald back — the Roald that held nothing back from him — instead of the one that now treated him formally, like he barely knew him anymore.

  Around the table were the ten remaining noble lords of the Iisendom and their wives, plus Gully and Thaybrill, and the Archbishop. The only ones missing were Chelders veBasstrolle, who was in the gaol, and his wife, who was no longer welcome because of her husband’s crimes. Gully had asked about having some of the Mercher clan attend, only to be told that this was strictly an Iisen dinner, leading up to the coronation two days hence. That disappointed Gully, but he did not press the issue.

  He wondered if he had done right by making Roald the Lord Marshal. Not in the sense of doubting Roald’s abilities; Roald was all too capable of it and Gully knew that in his heart. What he wondered was weather Roald wanted it and would not work himself sick trying to be the best Lord Marshal possible. Maybe Roald didn’t even want it; he certainly hadn’t asked Roald about it before he gave him the title on the fields in the shadows of the Sheards. He thought maybe tomorrow he’d interrupt Roald long enough to ask him if he was happy with his new life. If no one would come and ask Gully his preference regarding taking the crown, at least he could ask Roald his preference about the title of Lord Marshal.

  He glanced over at Thaybrill, who was politely engaged in the conversation, leaving Gully a little freer to not bother with it. The lords and ladies had been a little reserved regarding Gully directly because they weren’t quite sure of what to make of him, but they seemed at ease with Thaybrill. Given the topics of the evening — Gully’s life, his rescue of Thaybrill, the arrests of those in on the conspiracy, where Krayell might be hiding, and now on to the coronation and the fetes to follow — Gully was relieved to let Thaybrill do most of the talking.

  The long, heavy table in the middle of the dining hall had been laden down with the elaborate dinner for the evening, and the servants moved silently around them as needed. He took some of the fresh pannyfruit and ate a few slices of it, hoping it would taste better to him than the rest of the meal.

  As he chewed, he glanced up and realized everyone at the table was looking at him expectantly.

  Gully glanced around at a few faces and said, “I beg your pardon. The pannyfruit stole my attention for a moment. Did I miss something?”

  Lord Holm veDellersean, a long man with a long nose and a full head of graying hair, cleared his throat and asked, “Your Majesty, I was wondering how long these Mercher people will be guests in Iisen.”

  Gully shrugged and said he had not thought of it very much.

  “As the old saying goes, having guests is wonderful, but not quite as wonderful as when they go home!” said veDellersean with a sparkle in his eye. It drew hearty chuckles from the other lords at the table and delighted squeals from a few of the ladies.

  Gully’s brow furrowed and he felt irritated. “They have no ‘home’ to speak of,” he said flatly. “For years, their home has been no more than a meager camp deep in the Ghellerweald.”

  “Ah, well, all the more reason for them to take their leave and go find a home! An honest effort is an effort rewarded, I always say!” chortled veDellersean, “A new land of their own isn’t going to come banging at the Folly barbican asking for them, now is it?”

  Gully gaped a moment at the narrow nose and drawn, raven-like features in veDellersean’s face, which was in the act of attempting a cheeky smile. He did not find the humor in the comment the way the others at the table did. “You are aware,” said Gully, “that these are the same people that fought by the sides of our own swordsmen to prevent an invasion and our enslavement? Are you not?”

  The good humor of the rest of the table died off a little, but not entirely.

  veDellersean continued undeterred, “Oh, they did? Why, it’s wonderful that they’ve earned their keep a little bit since they’ve been living off our land, then! And their support is very much appreciated! But let’s be honest about this, if the Maqarans had come, we would have worked something out. It’s not like they’d enslave the noble class, right? They’re not barbarians.”

  Gully sincerely hoped that Lord veDellersean was not representative of the brain capacity of the remaining noble families. He said with taut lips, “Ignoring, for a moment, that you seem to find it acceptable that the population of Iisen could be enslaved so long as your own hide was spared... what, pray tell, do you think was going to happen to my brother at the end of his abduction if I had not come along? And I remind you that he was the crown prince at the time! Did you think something would have been ‘worked out’ when he arrived as a captive in Maqara?” Even Prince Thaybrill seemed a little shocked and hurt by the lord’s comment.

  Only now did the light-hearted smile on Holm veDellersean’s face falter and then vanish entirely once he thought through what the prince regent had said. He coughed lightly and said feebly, “He... well... I doubt they would have actually made him a slave, as such. Certainly not! He’s of royal blood, as you are, Prince Thayliss!”

  Gully fought the urge to roll his eyes and went back to cut another piece of the pannyfruit. He turned his attention away from the conversation yet again before it gave him worse indigestion than he already had.

  One of the wives, one that Gully did not bother with identifying, said, “Well, getting back to these Merchers... I’ve played hostess to many visitors over the years, and I’ve always found it best to set a departure date right at the arrival. It saves so much in the way of uncomfortable conversations later!”

  There were some titters across the table, and one of the other wives said, “Oh dear, as Vasahle is my witness, she speaks true! I’ve been to visit her and Lord veKinn! You can barely set foot on the manor grounds in Kindern without already knowing when you’re expected to leave again!”

  There were guffaws at the table, and Gully pushed his plate of food away from him entirely.

  “Well, if what I’ve heard is true about some of these Mercher men, I’m surprised they’ve been allowed to set foot on the Folly grounds at all!”

  Gully looked around the table to find who had made the comment. His eyes stopped on Lord veWarrnest. In contrast to veDellersean, Lord Strafe veWarrnest was younger, strikingly handsome, with a strong brow that was topped by a magnificent head of wheat-colored hair. He had a charisma that people were instantly drawn to, which had immediately put Gully in a suspicious mood the moment he had met the man.

  “What have you heard, Strafe? I want to know! Tell me!” said a noblelady several chairs down to Gully’s right.

  Lord veDellersean interjected, “They wear skirts, for one!”

  veKinn’s wife screeched in scandalized delight, holding her napkin up to her mouth as she did so. “S
kirts?! In truth? They dress as women?”

  “Worse!” said veWarrnest with a frown.

  “Worse how? I do not understand,” insisted veKinn’s wife.

  veWarrnest looked like he had just bitten into a bone in the venison stew. He said, “Have you not heard? They make it no secret, that is clear! Bunch of filthy knockers! Acting as if ’twere normal. Acceptable, even!”

  Several of the ladies present gasped.

  There was a loud thunk, and Lord veWarrnest jerked his head towards the source of the sound. Less than a finger’s distance from his ear and buried in the back of his chair, was a throwing knife still vibrating from the throw. The lord’s breath caught in his throat and all of the fire in his eyes and the color in his lips drained away instantly.

  A few of the ladies screamed when they saw the knife next to Strafe’s head. Finally, the eyes around the table were drawn to Gully, who had stood, and was leaning over with his hands planted on the table in front of him. His eyes were flashing red in poorly restrained anger. His chest was pounding furiously, and the snarl on his face was one that would have made even Gellen proud.

  “Lord veWarrnest,” began Gully so fiercely that his anger could not be mistaken, “the next time that I hear a comment like that from you, that knife blade will bury itself precisely between your eyes. Consequences or no, I make that promise to you now, before all who are gathered here. You are not to disparage the clan of the Balmoreans again. They are a good people, brave and honest, and willing to sacrifice themselves to help stop our common enemy. Whom they chose to build a family with is of no consequence to anyone other than themselves.”

  veWarrnest swallowed hard and beads of sweat had already formed upon his brow. He made no reply to the prince regent.

  “And it is Raybb,” said Gully.

  veWarrnest recovered himself and his eyes flashed angrily, but he did not reply.

  It was Holm veDellersean that spoke timidly. “I’m... I’m sorry, Your Highness? Raybb?”

  “There are more than just him, but Raybb is the particular one you likely speak of. His name is Raybb. Yes, he has a husband and a daughter that he loves with all his heart. What of it? And he is a supremely accomplished fighter. Unarmed, you could pit his bear and human forms against four of our best armed swordsmen together, and I would bet my whole coinpurse that Raybb would be the one remaining standing at the end. Also, the Balmorean men do not wear dresses, they wear kilts because it is the most practical clothing for the ones who shift forms.”

  veWarrnest dipped his head in cold deference. “My apologies, Highness,” said the lord, with questionable sincerity. “I was not aware that you... aligned... with that sort of aberration so... ‘deeply,’ I suppose is the word I’m looking for.”

  “I do,” said Gully emphatically, refusing to be baited by the poorly veiled insult. He stood up straight in front of his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he noticed how pallid Thaybrill’s expression had turned with the conversation and how he had sunk down in his chair. He would have shot his brother a questioning glance, but he had a far more important point to make.

  “The Mercher clan, the Balmoreans, have suffered much. They have been unfairly scape-goated and victimized by those running this slave trade. They have been hated and feared by almost all of the Iisendom, and still they were willing to join us and risk everything to fight this enemy off from a land that is not their own. They have asked for nothing in return. If I were to pick a people to emulate to make myself a better person in almost every way, I would do well to pick the clan of Merchers,” said Gully, his voice steadily rising in volume. “They are welcome to stay here as my guests as long as they please. If you find their presence among you untenable, then the problem is easily solved by taking your leave!”

  The vast room fell into a deathly silence. Gully turned and stormed out of the dining hall, his boots echoing on the stone floor and the sweeping violet mantle he had been forced to wear flowing behind him.

  He burst out of the dining hall and onto the darkened, mid-evening grounds of the Folly, his temper seething. Thaybrill had stressed how important it was to forge a solid bond with the noble families of Iisen since it was mostly through their cooperation that Iisen remained a kingdom at peace. It was a harder task than he had anticipated. These people were complacent and arrogant and insulting, and Gully could think of large numbers of people with whom he’d rather spend his time.

  It took a moment, but he noticed that Gallun and Gellen had fallen in behind him somewhere along the way and were trotting along to keep up. He turned to them and started to speak in anger, not at them, but anger at the events of the evening. He stopped himself and took a deep breath, and only then did he say to the two wolves sitting attentively before him, “It is my wish that you were not in a position to hear any of the conversation at that dinner. It is my wish that I had not heard any of it, but I am not that fortunate.”

  Gellen huffed once as he nodded his head off in the direction that Gully had been heading, then looked at Gully quizzically.

  “I am going to see Roald. You are welcome to walk with me if you like,” offered Gully, not letting his ill-humor hold him any longer. He murmured in a sly tease, though, “Not that it matters much when I ask you to stay behind.”

  Gellen shifted on his haunches and grunted as if insulted.

  Gully laughed more heartily this time. It felt good to be around people that spoke more plainly. He squatted down and put his hand behind Gellen’s neck affectionately, feeling the softness of the thick wolf fur under his hands. Gellen growled and snapped, trying to bite at Gully’s arm for being patronizing.

  “Oh ho!” said Gully, pulling his arm free from Gellen’s jaws in the mock mauling the wolf was giving him. His eyes sparkled and he teased the balmor, “Is this how you treat someone of my stature now? With wolf spit?”

  Gellen butted into Gully, knocking him flat onto his back in the middle of the grassy ward. Gellen pounced on top of Gully’s belly and licked at his face a couple of times, then sat down, right upon the middle of the prince regent’s chest. The wolf stared down at Gully, panting victoriously, and with a look in his eyes that dared Gully to do something about it.

  Gully’s chest heaved, trying to laugh and breathe at the same time, something difficult to do with the wolf on top of him, and he finally wheezed, “Yes! You win, Gellen! You win! I give in! Just no more of your spit, I beg you!”

  Gellen watched him a moment more to firmly rub in who had really prevailed and then stood off of Gully’s chest. Gully sat up in the grass and brushed himself off, already feeling better after bantering with the wolves. He laughed again and put his arm around Gallun, pulling the wolf close. He said to Gellen with a twinkle in his eye, “You stay back! I’ll probably now have caught vermin from your wallowing around on me thus!”

  Gellen growled again in warning as Gully put his hand on the other wolf’s head as he sat on the ground with both of them. He sighed and said, “Oh, thank you, both. It’s good to have two that refuse to let all this power and grandeur go to my head! Come, now! Let’s go see Roald!”

  Before Gully could stand up, a voice belonging to a swordsman crossing the bailey yard called to him. “Your Highness? I am not sure I will ever accustom myself to seeing the prince regent and a pair of wolves wrestling about with each other the way you do!”

  In the dim light, it took a moment for Gully to realize it was the soldier, Dunnhem. Dunnhem bowed briefly, then held out his hand and helped Gully to his feet.

  Gully brushed himself off the rest of the way and said, “Aye! Have no fear of me getting too big for my breeches! Gellen seems to have taken as his primary charge keeping me in fleas and humility! Tell me, Dunnhem, is the Lord Marshal in his quarters?”

  “I believe he is, Sire. He was there not very long ago, buried in papers and reports.”

  They began walking in that direction and Dunnhem said, “Er... if I may say so, thank you for what you did in making Roald the Lord M
arshal. There are plenty in the Guard that do not know him well and are leery of what sort of lord commander he will be, but those of us that do know him have done all we can to extol his abilities and to reassure them that he will be even better than Lord Marshal Jahnstlerr. There have been so many changes happening so swiftly. It will be good to have a king once again on the throne of Iisen. I’m glad it’s to be you, too.”

  Gully shot a sideways grin at the soldier as they walked. He said, “Ah, with comments such as those, I will soon need an additional course in Gellen’s lessons in modesty. You learn the ways of court flattery very quickly, Dunnhem!”

  “Me, Sire?” Dunnhem’s lanky form slowed as he laughed. “Not at all! I’m a hopeless fumblethumbs at those sorts of skills. I’m a soldier, not a politician, thank the stars at night! I can remember as a small child seeing King Colnor make a public speech once, in the Bonedown. Even as a child, I found him inspiring. If it pleases you, I would have been happy with Thaybrill on the throne as well. I give thanks to the star of your father for keeping both you and Prince Thaybrill safe for the good of the kingdom. And it is good to have the disappearances of our people eliminated and the criminal elements behind them put away. Everyone I talk to feels a greatly renewed sense of hope and promise, Sire.”

  “I hope I do not disappoint you, Dunnhem, or them.” Comments like these in the last few days, even with the best intentions, made Gully wary. Most of the time he considered it to be no more than bald slavering by those seeking favor, and dismissed them out of hand. Dunnhem, though, and a few others, he felt to be sincere, and those were the ones that made him wary. It made him worry that these people were misplacing their faith in him. He worried what would happen when they realized that all of this was an approaching disaster.