City of Wonders

by James A. Moore

  While they discussed the ranged weapons of the Sa’ba Taalor – weapons the likes of which Merros had never seen and which he wanted to examine up close – they rose from the breakfast table and moved around the room where Dretta did most of the cooking. There were days when she had help, but this was not one of them. Fruit spreads and bread did not take as much effort as a roasted calf or the occasional meat pies.

  Looking back later, Merros remained uncertain exactly what happened. They were standing one moment and the next thing he clearly recalled was holding her naked body in his arms and kissing her amazing mouth urgently.

  There was a moment of brilliant, scintillating panic, and then she did something with her hands to make him forget all about the fact that he was laying with Wollis March’s widow.

  He did things with his hands, too, things that had her making the most fascinating noises. When it was done he was exhausted in the best possible way. She must have been, too, because both of them slept half the afternoon away.

  He could always blame the wine, of course. It was a potent blend and he knew that before he sipped, but the simple fact remained that if he’d been asked, he’d have admitted their encounter was virtually inevitable. The attraction he’d felt for Dretta was as strong as any he’d felt for a woman in a long while.

  It was later, after they made love a second and third time, sated and sore and wonderfully exhausted, that the guilt came for him and settled on his chest.

  Wollis’s wife.

  Dretta March, the amazing woman he’d spent an unforgettable day with, was Wollis’s wife.

  Wollis, who had been his finest friend and confidant.

  She lay unclothed on the bed beside him, her face slightly turned away, her eyes closed and her breaths coming steadily. He took the chance that she was asleep to study her.

  The guilt was bad.

  But not bad enough. Despite his misgivings, he smiled at her sleeping form.

  She was amazing. There was a very real chance that what he felt for her was love.

  And that notion terrified him.

  * * *

  The world was ending and Teagus sat in a cell, very nearly forgotten.

  It was a clean cell, true enough, but it was not at all what he was used to.

  There had been a time when he was respected. He had spent a great deal of time in this cell wondering exactly when that changed.

  He knew the answer, or course. He was far from a stupid man. He just didn’t like admitting that he had done things of a questionable nature with girls who were barely more than children. That dark part of him that answered his urges whispered in the recesses of his mind that there were no laws against talking to girls and making suggestions. He had never forced the issue with anyone in his life.

  His station in Tyrne had kept him safe from repercussions. He knew that. But Tyrne no longer existed and he had struck at the highest-ranking member of the Imperial Army in a fit of grief and rage. The price he paid for his outrage was a beating, followed by walking in leg irons from the edge of the Empire back to Canhoon. By the time the walk was done his ankles were bloodied and the meat under the irons was infected.

  He had learned a lesson. Do not cross the military.

  There were members of the Church of Etrilla who came and cleaned his wounds. They fed him. They cared for him. They barely knew him, but the head of the church in Canhoon had shared many correspondences with him over the years. They may never have become friends, but they were at least friendly.

  Of course, the very reason he was locked in a cell was preventing that friendship from ever blooming into a reality.

  In the cell closest to his, a man was bellowing endlessly. He knew his name. Laister Krous. They had met more than once, and they had been associates on several deals over the years. Power and money are often attracted to like.

  While he looked at his healing ankles, picking at the wrappings and peering at the cleaned scabs, Teagus listened to the conversation in the adjoining room.

  “Why are you here?” Despite being locked in a cell, Laister Krous’s voice dripped contempt.

  The voice that answered was also known to Teagus. It took him a moment to recognize the older woman. Her words were softly spoken, but the waspish quality of her words carried easily enough. Danieca Krous was not happy.

  “Did you think you could kill any member of this family without consequences? Did you think you could kill my grandson without me finding out?”

  “Frankly, I never much cared.” There was a long, dramatic sigh. “I’ve been stripped of my money, my title and even my name, you toad. What else do you think you can take from me?”

  He could hear the purr in the old woman’s voice. “Your dignity. Your life.”

  “Do your worst! There are guards outside the door! And I am not without my influence!” He did not speak or merely yell. He roared his words.

  Her voice did not change in the least as she responded. “Do you know what the best part of still having my fortune is, Laister? I can pay enough to reach past your influence. And I can pay these fine men to take care of the rest of my desires, too.”

  The sounds of a scuffle were clear. Though he had never been one to indulge in fisticuffs, the priest knew the sounds clearly enough. Laister made a few inarticulate growls that were surrounded by and eventually overwhelmed by the noises made when fists and boots meet soft flesh.

  It was a long fight, but ultimately the end result was inevitable. The whispery noises that came his way were those of a man being dragged and then carried away.

  Teagus considered the noises and worried at his lower lip while he clenched and unclenched his hands nervously. It was appalling to think that someone could be taken away so easily.

  He had almost calmed down when he heard Danieca’s voice addressing him. “I haven’t forgotten about you, either, Teagus. You are a vile man with disgusting habits. Had I not trained my blood to know better than to answer to your type, I’d have killed you a long time ago. Or possibly just nailed your manly parts to a bench. I’m still considering that possibility.”

  That was all she said. It was all she needed to say. He could not tell when she left or if she left, so he did his best to cry silently.

  * * *

  Inquisitor Darsken Murdro looked at the cloth-covered body as it was pulled from the water of the docks, and stopped the City Guard long enough to take a long and hard look at the corpse.

  Laister Krous was dead. Darsken was not the least surprised. His flesh had been beaten until it was a deep combination of colors. Several of his teeth were broken or missing. His knuckles showed signs that he had fought hard for his life, but, ultimately, there had never been any doubt about the way his life would end.

  The City Guard were well compensated to protect the upper echelons of society in Old Canhoon. They knew the faces of the powerful and they also knew when the powerful fell. Laister Krous could not have fallen much further.

  Tataya was nearby, lurking in the shadows. She did not lurk often, but when she did it was an impressive feat. Her hair alone normally stood out enough to guarantee that she would be noticed and her clothes, usually designed to catch a man’s eye, were now replaced with subdued colors and a cloak that hid away all of the assets she usually used to make certain she was not easily forgotten.

  When he had finished examining the body he waved a hand at the guards to continue their work. He had what he needed. There would be no further punishment, for now.

  “I know what you want, Lady Tataya. I do not believe that I can help you.”

  Tataya frowned from the shadows.

  “There are laws, you see? And if I am to enforce them, I must also follow them. To do otherwise sets a bad precedent.”

  “I never asked you to resurrect my Sister. I asked if you could let me talk to her.” She stepped toward him, her eyes looking toward him with the sort of intensity that very likely withered lesser men.

  “It is the same thing. It requires the use of
abilities that I have sworn would only be employed in answering the question of who has committed a crime and even then only under the most dire of circumstances.” He kept his smile in place. Remarkably little made him lose his smile.

  “I–”

  “Ultimately you know that the only person who can give me permission in this case is the Empress. I would likely accept the word of Desh Krohan, but I am not likely to listen to anyone else. I am very sorry, Tataya. I would help you if I could.”

  The simple fact was that necromancy took a lot of effort and the dead themselves often suffered for the actions of the necromancer. Pulling a spirit back from the realms beyond the living took effort and often caused a torturous amount of pain for the spirits. Why else would they scream so much when he summoned them?

  “I understand, and I thank you.”

  Someone else sighed. Darsken felt his skin crawl. It was seldom that anyone could surprise him, but the sorcerer had managed.

  “I need to speak to Goriah, Darsken.” Desh Krohan’s voice was immediately recognizable.

  Darsken lowered his head and nodded. “Then you shall, but understand I accept no responsibility for any pain she suffers as a result of the summoning.”

  The sorcerer came out of the shadows, seeming to pour from them like water from a spilled jug. “What must be must be.”

  “Not here. I need to see her body.”

  “Then come with us. She is waiting.”

  Darsken felt the smile slip on his face. They were prepared for his request.

  The palace was a solid distance from the docks. He made sure to take his time on the walk.

  “You have employed necromancy in your past, Desh Krohan?”

  The sorcerer looked at him for a moment and nodded. “You know I have.”

  “It is true I know that you were one of the reasons that necromancy was forbidden. That said, why do you not handle this matter yourself and avoid the chance of indiscretion?”

  “I do not believe there’s threat of that.” The wizard paused and sighed. “And I have forgotten more of necromancy than I now know.” The wizard looked toward the palace and his lips pulled down in a quick scowl before he caught himself. “Also, I suspect I will be called on to defend this city soon and I need to conserve my energies.”

  “Have you?” Darsken frowned at that thought.

  “I am old, Darsken Murdro. I am very, very old.” The sorcerer considered him carefully. “Are you saying you would not willingly forget necromancy?”

  “Not while it is a tool I must use.”

  “Then I pity you.”

  “But without it, how would you get your answers, Desh Krohan?”

  The wizard nodded his head.

  FIFTEEN

  “Would you explain how this is even possible?” Merros’s voice held an edge that would not go away. The man had been smiling when he showed up, but now he stared around him with a brow that was heavy with tension and one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Desh made it a point to study people. Whatever had relaxed the man so thoroughly was now a thing of the past.

  The general was not addressing him. He was actually speaking to the stable master, a man who currently was looking around the room as calmly as he could for a method of escape. To be fair, Merros Dulver could be a bit intimidating. He also had earned a reputation when he started punishing the occasional deserter or soldier who simply would not follow orders.

  “I swear to you, General Dulver, that I or one of my men have been here at all times.” The stable master was trying to put on a good face, but he was shaking and his brow was pimpled by fat drops of sweat that the weather was not responsible for generating.

  Merros Dulver looked at the dead horses throughout the long stables and cursed under his breath.

  Desh and the general had been taking one of their fairly regular walks and keeping each other posted on what had occurred in the last few days. They had passed communications back and forth but mostly had been far too busy to consider an actual meeting. Now, frankly, there wasn’t much time to spend on anything else. The armies of the Sa’ba Taalor were on their way. There was simply no way to avoid that unpleasant fact.

  While Merros looked at the dead animals, Desh considered what they had in common and made a deduction.

  “Poison.”

  Merros turned his way, scowling. “What did you say?”

  “Poison. We should check the feed and the water. I’d guess poison. And a good one, too. That sort of thing is not inexpensive.”

  “And do you have a list of poisoners and how much inventory they carry? Can we query them and find answers?”

  Desh ignored the sarcasm in the question and smiled tightly. “I have just the man to help us with this.”

  “Oh, really?” He had Merros’s undivided attention.

  “I have seen him work near-miracles. He is responsible for the recent change of events in the life of Laister Krous.”

  Merros nodded. “I like him already.” He then looked back at the stable master. “I want samples of the water and the feed set aside. Keep them safe.” The look he skewered the poor bastard with was exactly why Desh had wanted him for a general in the forces.

  “Who in the name of all the gods would poison a stable full of horses?”

  “Who has the most to gain from killing them, Merros?”

  Merros looked at him and scowled. It seemed the only expression he was capable of generating. “You think the Sa’ba Taalor murdered every horse in the royal stables?”

  “I think you need to find out if the horses at your military stables are well.”

  “Oh, by the gods!” Merros looked around for his personal aide. Taurn Durst was watching from easily a hundred feet distant and started in their direction before the general could call his name. The man was a bull, pure and simple. He had somehow managed to fit a human skin over his preposterous body, but Desh had a powerful suspicion that Durst was actually a very large bull. It explained why his face looked so heavy and his body shook the ground when he walked.

  “Aye! Ho, sir!”

  Merros closed his eyes for a moment, a look of long suffering moving across his features.

  “Taurn, I need you to alert the stables. Have all of the horses checked, and have the feed and water checked for poisons. Set samples aside. Get fresh water drawn from the river for the horses.”

  “Aye! Ho, sir!” The man turned and stalked away. He didn’t just walk, but seemed to actually generate an air of menace that moved with him. Desh was suitably impressed. It had taken him lifetimes to manage what the man accomplished simply by existing.

  “I keep asking him not to bellow,” Merros said. “He keeps explaining to me that he has to lead the troops around me by example. I’d like to yell at him. I would, but he has a point.”

  “You chose him for a reason. Allow that he has the right idea and worry about other things instead.”

  “Aye. You’re as right as he is, I suppose. Still, the way he’s always there and always waiting for my commands…”

  “That’s his duty.”

  “I know. But, your Sisters never seem so bloody eager.”

  “They have plenty to be eager about, Merros. Mostly they enjoy the finer things in life, like tormenting the men around them with their looks.”

  “They are rather… spectacular.”

  “They should be. They use sorcery to make certain they are noticed.”

  “Really?” Merros shook his head. “I’d have never noticed.”

  “If you could notice, they’d be doing the work the wrong way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do you see when you look at the Sisters?”

  Merros grinned. “I tend to see them and little else.”

  “That’s the idea. They are gifted at keeping people offguard.”

  “To what end?”

  “The exact same end that your Taurn Durst manages so easily. When people are looking at them, they are not looking at me. When he
comes stomping up the street, most eyes are on him, and that allows you a modicum of freedom.”

  Merros looked at him for a long moment and shook his head. “You have a strange way about you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean if I take off my uniform no one looks at me. I know. I’ve done it.”

  “I doubt that is true any longer.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You tried this before, back when you were Captain Dulver?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re General Dulver now. You are in charge of the entire Imperial Army.”

  “Yes, but it’s rather like that cloak of yours, Desh. With it you are a presence to be feared, the powerful advisor to the Empress and a sorcerer of unknown skills. Without it, you’re rather nondescript.”

  “I’m not sure if I should feel insulted by that.”

  “You’re not one of the Sisters. Without their robes, there would be mass chaos.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Merros changed the subject back to more important matters. “They’re here sooner, not later, Desh.” He looked around the area, his eyes scanning every access point. It was an automatic thing and the sorcerer knew that, but it was still interesting to note that the last group he’d seen who had the same tendency was the enemy they now faced.

  “They are very likely already here. I have a few of my people trying to find any of their sort in town, but so far no luck.”

  “For how long?”

  “Since we arrived. They believe in war, Merros. Not every war I’ve been in involved swords and horses and shields.”

  “But you have found no sign?”

  Desh looked around very carefully for a moment and then shook his head. “I know they are here. However they are hiding, be it sorcery or something else, they are very good at it.”

  “What? You think their gods are helping them?”

  Desh felt a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. “You don’t?”

  “No.” The general shook his head.

  “You are a brilliant man. I’ve seen what you have accomplished getting a very weakened army in shape, and I’ve watched your work fortifying the defenses of first Tyrne and now Canhoon – and yet, Merros Dulver, you are sometimes powerfully stupid.”