“A Sword Prince? Here?” a voice boomed from the store entrance. “Who are you, and what are you doing in Mar’Tok?”
Maelgyn turned to the newcomer, another Dwarf dressed in gaudy robes reeking of decadence. Clearly, this was an important figure in Dwarven society... and probably not one of El’Athras’ allies, given the angry scowl on his face.
“Just passing through,” he said truthfully.
“Nonsense!” the Dwarf barked. “Now, I am Merchant Prince El’Pless from the Grand Council of Mar’Tok. Any official state visits by a Sword of Svieda should have been reported to me. Since you weren’t, it’s fairly obvious you’re a spy! Now, unless you want to be arrested and hung, you’d better talk, you Human bastard!”
Dr. Wodtke, who had been in the back room with Euleilla helping to prepare the magic powder, came out to investigate the ruckus. Seeing the speaker, she sighed. “Hello, Helpless.”
The aristocratic Dwarf stiffened. “I am El’Pless, or Pless the Elder if you must call me by something in your tongue. I’m two hundred and eleven years old, and the second wealthiest Dwarf in the world. You would do well to show me some respect.”
Wodtke snorted. “Maybe I will, but only when you show me you deserve it.”
El’Pless’ eyes narrowed. “You may be under the protection of the High Merchant Prince, but that goodwill only stretches so far. Do not test my patience!”
“Sorry, Helpless, but I’m afraid it stretches farther than you can imagine,” Wodtke snorted. “As far as the Sword you were about to arrest as a spy is concerned, he has been given safe passage to his home province of Sopan. While they did meet to discuss some business, this isn’t an official state visit. That is why you weren’t informed.”
“And just how do you know that, Human?” El’Pless spat. “Since when are you privy to the politics of the court?”
“Well, I think I’d know my own lover’s business,” Wodtke laughed. The room fell silent.
That’s why she has such free access to El’Athras’ house, Maelgyn thought, and why she knew her way around the caves so well.
“Lover?” Maelgyn repeated slowly.
“Not another one,” Wodtke groaned. “I figured you would have noticed by now, Maelgyn. According to Euly, you’re a smart enough guy.”
Maelgyn shook his head in disbelief. Yes, he had noticed a degree of “familiarity,” for lack of a better word, between her and El’Athras, but... “I never knew that was even possible. Have a Human and a Dwarf ever produced any offspring?”
“No,” she sighed. “Why do you think I haven’t married him, yet? You can’t marry someone you can’t have kids with. That’s the law.”
“Enough about your abomination with Athras!” El’Pless snarled. “Though believe me, the council will hear of it. The important issue is: Just what is this Sviedan doing here?”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Wodtke snorted. “Helpless, you really do justice to your nickname, you know that? My lover just did what he’s been trying to convince you idiots in the council was the sensible thing to do for years. In the process, he demoted you... Baron Helpless.”
“Baron? What...” El’Pless’ voice trailed off, as he slowly glanced at Maelgyn standing around shell-shocked. “No. Tell me that old fool didn’t—”
“Cede Mar’Tok to Svieda? Yep. And you know he can do it, too. A Sviedan Royal is present, my Athy has been High Merchant Prince for more than a year, and a third national ruler – Emperor Gyato of Caseificio – signed as one of the principle witnesses. Athy signed the treaty, was promptly dubbed Count El’Athras, High Merchant Lord of the Autonomous County of Mar’Tok in Svieda, and that was it – the deal was done. And just so you don’t go worrying your beard bald, Mar’Tok was not the only nation to sign the treaty. Emperor Gyato was made Count of the Autonomous County of Caseificio, so he’s no longer royalty either. It’s all legal. We followed every procedure to the letter, compliant for all of Sviedan, Nekoji, and Dwarven legal systems. And, by Sviedan law, your former title has been converted to their closest equivalent – Merchant Lord Helpless, Baron of the Pathways Mining Company. And that ‘Sviedan’ you’re sneering at is now your royal liege. You might just want to apologize for calling him a ‘Human bastard.’”
El’Pless backed away in horror, mouth agape but moving as if he was trying to talk but couldn’t quite form the words. Finally, he collected himself, and glared at the two Humans. “The Council will hear about this, you can rest assured. It may be too late to stop this horrible travesty Athras is leading us on, but we can still punish him for it... and you can tell your ‘lover’ that we’ll be expecting him tomorrow morning in the council hall!”
With that, El’Pless stormed out of the building. Euleilla chose that moment to swoop in silently, attaching herself to Maelgyn’s side.
“I heard,” she said simply. Turning to Wodtke, she asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m not worried. He can’t do anything, not really.” Wodtke shrugged. “The worst thing they can do is strip Athy of his clan leadership, and since he is the ruling Count of Mar’Tok regardless of clan that won’t matter much. He may lose the ‘Merchant’ from his title, I suppose, but that’s a small price to pay.”
“Good,” Euleilla nodded emphatically.
Maelgyn glared at his wife playfully. “You knew about her and El’Athras, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Euleilla said, smiling enigmatically.
He laughed. “Ah, well. Better I find out here and now than in some other, even more embarrassing way. But the secret of my presence is out, it seems.” He turned to the doctor. “And yours is, too. Is that going to cause any problems?”
Wodtke shrugged. “Why should it? I can’t marry him, and he is allowed to choose his lovers at will. And he will marry someone – just not me. I can never be anything more than his concubine, but that’s all right. Dwarves permit that kind of thing among their royalty and nobility. They know that the person they love isn’t always the one who can give them a healthy child, and since they are required to produce heirs...”
Tur’Ne coughed slightly. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but that won’t matter. The concubine laws may permit you to be his lover, even if he were to marry, but you won’t be a popular person here even so. Your average Dwarf isn’t exactly happy to hear that their fellow Dwarf might care for a Human more than one of his own kind.”
“Yes, but Athy isn’t exactly the most popular Dwarf alive at the moment, anyway,” she said. “Yet you Dwarves are loyal to a fault. He’ll survive this politically intact, you’ll forgive him, and life will go on.”
“Forgive me again, my lady,” Tur’Ne said humbly. “But while we Dwarves will forgive him, not all Dwarves will forgive you. In fact, they’ll probably try to kill you. You might want to look into asking your lover for some protection.”
“And you, Tur’Ne?” Maelgyn intervened. “How do you feel about her? You say the average Dwarf won’t like this news... What about you?”
Tur’Ne smiled. “Well, my lady Wodtke saved my wife’s life when the plague hit, and often treats me after I burn myself on the job. I figure if she does that for me, the least I can do is wish her happiness in her affairs.”
“Well, then,” Maelgyn turned serious. “Thanks for your warning. I had hoped anonymity would be some protection for us until certain announcements were prepared, but it looks as if that plan has fallen by the wayside. I hadn’t considered that some of us were already well-known in these parts. So, doctor, it looks as if you’re going to need some protection for a while. Maybe you should head over to El’Athras’ mansion, where I’m pretty sure he can guard you until things blow over.”
Wodtke shook her head. “I need to get back to my office. I’ve got two people who need treatment coming in soon, and I have to be there.”
“Then we’ll have to protect you until you can go to safety,” Euleilla suggested in a tone that brooked no argument. “Excuse me, Tur’Ne, but could you please head over t
o the El’Athras’ estate and let him know that we’ll need some armed guards?”
Tur’Ne hesitated, but nodded. “Since it’s for a good cause, yeah, I suppose I can. I’ll have to close up my shop for a bit. I might have problems getting into the mansion, though – Those guards don’t let just anybody in.”
“Here,” Wodtke said, tossing him a small necklace she had been wearing. “Show the guard this, and he’ll let you in.”
“Thank you again, Tur’Ne,” Euleilla said to him as well, casually tossing him several coins... which was actually easier for her than handing them to him would have been, Maelgyn realized. He was beginning to see where some of her quirky personality came from. Some of it, at least, was to play off the effects of her blindness. “Payment for the metal filings, plus a little extra for your troubles.”
Tur’Ne grinned, catching the coins. “And thank you, my lady, for remembering I’m a Dwarf and need to be paid, whether I like you or not.” With that, he was ushering them out the door. “Now, I need to lock up, so you better get going. Time is money.”
“We’d better move quickly,” Maelgyn said as the door slammed behind them. “With luck and speed, we may be able to get out of sight before word spreads. Which way is your office, Doctor?”
“Please, just call me Wodtke,” she answered him. “And we’re not far at all. Follow me, if you want – though I have no idea how you think you’ll be able to protect me. There are just two of you, and if an angry mob wants my head I doubt you’ll be able to stop them.”
“Well, hopefully we won’t have to worry about that, but if we do get into a fight you might be surprised,” Maelgyn smirked, falling in behind her. “I’m wearing dragonhide armor and carrying a pair of good swords. Euleilla is a First Rate mage, and I’m a decent mage as well, if I do say so myself. Even you should be able to take care of yourself to some degree, since you are also a mage. A good sized force of well-prepared troops, equipped for combating mages, would be a serious threat. Against a mob of unarmed or lightly armed peasants, I’m more concerned about not hurting them too badly.”
“I’m not that good with combat magic,” the doctor warned him. “I can use magic to enhance my strength and hold down a single patient when I’m performing surgery, and I suppose I could apply that same technique for battle, but I’m not especially powerful – I was tested at a Fourth Rate mage some years back. I’m strong enough to do my job, and I do it pretty well, but…”
“You’ve improved some,” Euleilla said. “Low-level Third Rate, I would say. I haven’t felt anyone with stronger magic than yours around here besides Maelgyn and I... except perhaps that Nekoji mage I thought I sensed.”
“Still,” Wodtke continued, ignoring for a time Euleilla’s mention of a Nekoji mage. “I’m not likely to be much use if it comes down to a fight. And there are just two of you....”
“You’ve never seen a mage in combat, have you?” Maelgyn asked.
“No, but that’s beside the point,” Wodtke answered. “The Dwarves have been fighting mages for over two thousand years they’ve somehow managed to stay competitive. I may not know what it’s like to fight someone like you two, but they will... and they probably will expect it.”
Maelgyn shook his head. “Armies can compensate for a mage if they go into battle prepared. A simple set of lodestones in strategic places around your armor will deflect the worst of what your average mage can do. Bronze blades, archers with stone-tipped arrows, and cavalry charges which strike so fast nothing magical can be done to stop them are all effective anti-mage tactics – which is why we’ve come to respect the Dwarven wolf-riders even if they don’t stand up well against a real cavalry. Powerful mages, like Euleilla and myself, can generally do a lot more to stop such attacks... but we’d be on the defensive quite a bit and would have to rely on others to do the main bit of fighting for us. That’s how the dwarves can survive battles with mages.
“However, protective lodestones for fighting mages aren’t exactly common among civilians. Neither are bronze blades or stone-tipped arrows – they have little use outside of military applications. Iron and steel weaponry is cheaper, sharper, lighter, and more durable, and therefore much more common in civilian practice. Unless I completely misunderstood something, your El’Athras is in control of the military right now, is he not?”
“He controls the national armies, yes,” Wodtke agreed. “And his clan’s army. But if the other clan lords decide to incite a riot, they can easily bring out their own clan armies to support it.”
Maelgyn hadn’t thought about it, but in his mind that only added fractionally to the danger. “Maybe they’d add to the manpower, but surely no clan lord or Merchant Prince would authorize the use of special military equipment that could be traced back to them. Not for assassinating their ruler’s lover, no matter how unpopular he may be.”
“The clan lords may or may not be behind it,” Euleilla interrupted with a slightly strained lilt in her voice. “But there are an awfully large number of Dwarves up ahead... and they are talking in rather angry tones.”
Maelgyn tuned in his senses, and saw that she was right. “Yes.... It feels like it may be a few hundred of them, coming this way, but they’re still pretty far off. I can’t hear them yet, myself.”
“Yes, but you don’t have Euleilla’s experience relying on your ears instead of your eyes,” Wodtke noted. “She can probably hear better than either of us can.”
Maelgyn shook his head. “I don’t understand – how could there be a riot of this size, already? Doesn’t it take time to assemble and arouse this many Dwarves?”
Wodtke grimaced. “Not if the crowd has already been assembled and primed to start it. You may have been trying to keep your visit low-key, but you didn’t exactly have the quietest of arrivals. I bet that El’Pless figured your appearance presented him with a good opportunity to usurp Athy’s position. He got the rioters together, but he wanted a better pretext to send them out. He must have been looking for us so he could blame the riot on us.”
“It doesn’t matter why they’re rioting,” Euleilla pointed out. “That can be figured out later. It only matters that they’re here.”
“In any case,” Maelgyn said, “I’m afraid they’re blocking the way to your clinic. It’s probably not a good idea to head there. As a matter of fact, maybe we should go back to our inn. When El’Athras gets our message, he’ll probably send out the guard and that should make it safe... but I don’t think it’s a good idea, just now, to return to your clinic. I doubt your patients will be trying to make their way through that mob, anyway.”
“Well,” Wodtke sighed. “I suppose it won’t be possible to do my job if there’s an angry mob outside the door. In that case, we should probably just head for Athy’s place and wait there for him to assemble a guard.”
“No,” Euleilla said. “That’s not possible, either. The mob is between us and the mansion as well. And if we don’t move quickly, I fear they could get between us and the inn.”
Wodtke looked alarmed for the first time, and said, “They’re trying to surround us?”
“No,” Maelgyn replied after studying the mob’s movements for a few seconds. “They’re just trying to converge on your clinic, I think, and we’re still pretty close to your clinic. If we move fast enough, we can evade them... but we need to lie low, and the inn is the best place to do that.”
The threesome successfully made it back to the inn, believing themselves to be unrecognized. They hurried indoors, where El’Ba and Tur’Ba met them with arrows on string and bows drawn. They were alone, however; apparently all other guests had left in haste.
“Oh,” El’Ba said, lowering his weapon. “‘Tis you. I was worried it was one of those lunatic rioters. You, doctor, caused quite the stir – did you have to rile El’Pless up like that?”
Wodtke snorted. “It’s the other Merchant Princes trying to give Athy a black eye. I doubt most of the Dwarves out there would have cared if it hadn’t been for their cl
an heads stirring the pot for them.”
“Regardless of what started it,” El’Ba snorted, “It’s going across the city like wildfire. I imagine your boy’s already started trying to clean it up, by now, but it’ll take him hours to clear a path here.”
“Thankfully,” another voice said from behind the two Dwarves, “The rioters haven’t yet learned that any of the people they’re rioting against are here, they haven’t. I suspect we’ll have to deal with them on our own, we will, if they manage to find us, they do.”
“Spearmaster Wangdu,” Maelgyn said, nodding his head in greeting. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was coming to talk with you, I was,” the Elf replied wryly. “But the rioters distracted me, they did.”
Maelgyn sighed, taking a seat at one of the inn’s tables. “Talk about a long day. I woke up, was given two kingdoms, had a long talk with my wife about our future together, went to buy some magic powder, blew my ‘hidden’ identity yet again, got into an argument with a merchant prince, and dodged a mob of rioters. And it’s not even dark out, yet.”
“It ain’t over yet, no,” El’Ba noted wryly. “I’m wondering how long it will be before the rioters think to come here. The good doctor is a frequent visitor to many of our inn’s guests, and I would expect you’ve been seen here as well. Surely we’ll be thought of as a refuge.”
In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) Page 17