In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords)

by Tatum, David A

  Maelgyn checked with Sekhar. The schlipf could detect deception with ease, as that was tantamount to finding danger. Sekhar felt none, not even the tiny amount one would expect from boasting, and so he nodded in satisfaction. “Well, I am glad you managed to return. I would have expected our enemies to be more... competent, however, after their demonstrated skills in the trap which caught you.”

  The sailor nodded slowly. “I did too, your highness, which is why I thought I had to mention it. I still think they wanted me to escape, of course, but I’m not sure if they really just wanted to follow me or if there might be some other reason for my release.”

  Maelgyn chewed his lips. “Perhaps they were sending a message to us,” he mused. “Did you see anything unusual or unexpected while you were there?”

  Forge smirked slightly. “You mean like battle plans which might be the key to defeating them, but in reality are just another trap? No, nothing like that. I thought of that, myself. I actually went looking for them, as I was sure they expected me to, but nothing.”

  Euleilla cocked her head slightly. “Perhaps they didn’t want us to see their plans... but to warn us away by demonstrating just how secure their fortifications are. How difficult would you figure getting into that castle would be?”

  Forge frowned. “Pretty difficult, actually. There was only one obvious way in or out, and that entrance would be pretty difficult to get in through. They have guards over that entrance all of the time.” He paused. “There’s also the servant’s entrance that I escaped through. That was unguarded completely. Kind of strange, now that I think about it.”

  “That’s what they were trying to show us,” Ruznak said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “They’re giving us a way in.”

  “The question is, who are ‘they?’” Uwelain asked. “I wouldn’t put it past Paljor to give us an easy entryway that in reality is a trap. However, I also know there are many people in the current Borden Isle Council who would like Paljor removed, and they would also be the sort of people who could arrange for Forge to have such an easy escape. I just don’t know.”

  “I think the fact that they made a token effort to track Forge might mean something,” Ruznak suggested. “It could be that someone set this up for us, and disguised it with his superiors by making it seem like a plan to track us down.”

  Maelgyn considered that for a moment. “I suppose that’s a possibility....”

  “Then do we take this opportunity to break in?” Uwelain asked. “It sounds like time is of the essence for you, and I would like to be able to go home again – which I probably won’t be able to until Paljor is deposed. This sounds like the ideal way to strike.”

  Maelgyn nodded slowly. “Let me think about it for a bit. We need a day to rest up, anyway. Mr. Forge, you may return to your duties as you see fit.”

  Forge’s grin lit up his face. To him, being told to get back to work personally by his liege lord was the highest award he could possibly receive. “Thank you, your highness.”

  Maelgyn turned to leave, Euleilla on his arm, but he was followed by El’Athras and Wangdu. The Dwarf stopped him when they were out of earshot.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to put that man back into a position of responsibility?” he asked doubtfully.

  Maelgyn frowned at El’Athras. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness,” the old Dwarf began, “But I’ve been a spymaster for over a century, now, and I can tell when someone’s telling fibs. There’s something that doesn’t ring right in that boy’s story, and I wouldn’t let him be put in any position where he could either sabotage the ship or hear any secret plans. Which means returning him to duty isn’t a good idea.”

  The Sword Prince nodded slowly, but unconsciously reached over to rub the spot on his wrist which circled the only exposed bit of Sekhar that showed of the schlipf in its dormant state. “I believe him. He is not a threat.”

  That upset the Dwarf even more. “Your Highness, I can understand why you might want to believe that boy, but I don’t think—”

  “This matter is closed,” Maelgyn snapped, but then relented slightly, grasping El’Athras’ shoulder. “If you are so worried, you can observe him yourself. However, I know he is no threat.”

  “If you insist, Your Highness,” he sighed.

  Rudel watched as Forge made his way up the rope ladder towards the lookout post in the crow’s nest. It was a difficult thing for a wounded man to do, and it would go a long way towards seeing how far into his recovery he really was. There was also the hazard of a man falling off the ropes to worry about it. Forge was slow, but he made it up to the top without incident, and so Rudel turned away from the man to deal with other things.

  He was talking with the ship’s cook about that night’s dinner, and wasn’t particularly happy about what he was hearing. “And you think we need to have split pea soup again tonight for what reason?”

  “I thought you liked my pea soup!” the cook protested.

  “Well, it is generally regarded as the best quality provision we can store on a ship,” Rudel admitted. “But having the same thing to eat for seven meals in a row does get a bit old, no matter how good that food is.”

  “Well, our cheese is rancid, our salt beef is inedibly bad, the potatoes have rotted, our biscuit flour is infested, and we used up the rice a long time ago,” the cook explained. “Not much else to base a meal on is in our stores, except a bunch of pickles – which you’re just as tired of. I know some ship’s cooks would serve all that stuff, anyway, but I refuse unless it’s a choice between that and starving.” He paused. “I suppose if you were willing to authorize a fishing and hunting expedition, we could at least have some variety. We didn’t take the time to properly stock up before leaving Sopan, sir, so I only had what we kept in storage to prepare meals on in the first place, and so much of that was old to begin with.”

  Rudel pinched his nose, fighting a dawning headache. He’d forgotten some of the annoyances of single ship command, the minutiae which a captain would have to deal with. He was starting to regret accepting this command, and hoped to go back to the job of being an Admiral pretty soon. “I think land expeditions are out of the question for the moment. Anything you can catch from shipboard, however, is fine – and that includes not just fish but the birds flying around the deck. Just remember to butcher them cleanly, and please remember to pluck the bird before cooking it. I had a cook, once, who nearly sunk my ship because the feathers of a bird he’d caught started turning into floating ash and set the whole ship on fire. You’d better be able to figure that much out or you can expect to lose your job as our cook and move on to something a bit less... pleasant.”

  “What’s less pleasant then being a cook on a ship like this?” the cook muttered as he turned to collect men for the fishing expedition. “Half the ingredients are spoiled, the light is so bad in the kitchen you can’t see what you’re doing, and the spices! What I wouldn’t give for a teaspoon of paprika... or even a single clove of garlic! Garlic! One of the most useful and important spices in all of cooking, and we can’t even keep a single clove on hand....”

  Rudel shook his head as he watched the man leave. Figures, he thought. I’ve got the only navy cook in the world who actually cares a damn about what he makes. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, mind, if we were well stocked, but considering the circumstances....

  The Admiral sighed as he spotted another problem. More headaches. First, it was the supply dilemma, and now it seemed as if one of his VIPs was intending to throw himself overboard in order to get a look at the crow’s nest. “Lord El’Athras,” he said, approaching the Dwarf and reaching out to grab him before he overbalanced while standing on the railing. “That is a very dangerous position to be in, and as captain of this ship I must insist you get down from there.”

  El’Athras glared at him. “Fine, but I’m going to keep an eye on him since it seems none of you will.”

  Rudel looked a bit startl
ed. “What? An eye on who?”

  “On him, of course,” the Dwarf snorted, pointing to the crow’s nest. “He could be signaling the enemy from up there, or... or... I’m not sure what, but I’ll catch him when he does it!”

  “Forge?” Rudel laughed, realizing what El’Athras was saying. “Oh, come on, Your Lordship. Forge is no spy – I’ve known him for years. Plus, His Highness has vouched for his honesty. I suppose you can keep an eye on him if you wish, but please, Your Lordship, do it safely! I don’t want my men to have to rescue you if you fall overboard.”

  El’Athras stalked away from the Admiral, disgruntled, while Rudel made his own way down below – he could use a dose of willow bark tea for his headache. The Dwarf was still muttering, not looking where he was going, when he collided with someone else.

  “I wasn’t going to fall overboard – I knew what I was doing! I have a perfect sense of balance, and he should know that. I’m a Dwarf, after all, and everyone knows that Dwarves are— oof!”

  “Friend Athras!” Wangdu said, offering a hand to the said Dwarf with the ‘perfect sense of balance,’ who had been knocked off his feet by colliding with the lighter Elf who was standing on just one leg while he exercised. “You seem a bit distracted, you do.”

  “What is it with the bloody Humans?” El’Athras snorted. “They don’t seem to have an ounce of sense in them!”

  “I’d agree with you, I would, I’m sure,” Wangdu said, “If I knew what you were talking about, I did.”

  El’Athras glared up at the crow’s nest. “I don’t know how they can continue to trust that man who just returned from ‘captivity.’ Uh huh, sure. If he was really a captive of Paljor, then I’m an Elf!”

  I didn’t know El’Athras was my cousin, I didn’t, Wangdu mused, forcing both the smile off his face and the laughter out of his voice. “So, you don’t believe his story, you don’t?”

  “It has so many holes I could sail this ship through them!” El’Athras exclaimed. “Now, I could understand Maelgyn believing him, perhaps – he’s still just a lad, even among humans, but Rudel is old enough to know better. But no, he takes the word of an eighteen year old boy over the word of a man who’s been looking for deception in men for over a century.”

  “I believe Maelgyn, I do,” Wangdu noted. “And his people are right to believe him as well, they are. He is their liege lord, after all, he is.”

  The Dwarf eyed Wangdu suspiciously. “All right, give. What do you know that I don’t?”

  “I know how his schlipf works, I do,” Wangdu explained. “And I know that it would warn him if that man had lied, I do.”

  The Dwarf looked surprised. “I didn’t think schlipf did that. I knew they were a living weapon that your people traditionally used. I thought that was the extent of it.”

  “In a sense, that’s true, it is,” Wangdu admitted. “The schlipf was my people’s greatest hand-to-hand weapon, it was, and still is in many ways, it is. But a schlipf’s powers include the ability to sense danger, deceit, and more, they do. I have never had a schlipf, I haven’t, and I do not know what all their powers are, I don’t. I would have to consult the notes of their makers, I would, and the Ancient Elves’ library is very difficult to get to, it is. But I’m sure this schlipf likes his host, I am, and so I believe Maelgyn when he says Forge is telling the truth, I do.”

  El’Athras averted his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn’t exactly have a reply to that, but deep down, he realized that Maelgyn might actually have known what he was talking about. He still would keep a close eye on Forge, however.

  Chapter 29

  “I have decided,” Maelgyn announced. “That we should bypass the ‘secret’ entrance we have been handed, whether it has been trapped or not.”

  Euleilla nodded, having extensively discussed the matter with him the previous night, though most of his advisors looked perplexed. Maelgyn and his wife both figured it would be a good idea to find out if it was a trap, using one of their schlipf to determine if it was safe to go through the door. She had wanted to be the one to check, but he had convinced her that – after having fought against some of Paljor’s people – she was too recognizable, increasing the risk of discovery during the covert part of their mission. After a brief argument, they eventually came to the conclusion that there wasn’t any point to checking at all – they had realized sneaking in wouldn’t help them, anyway.

  Uwelain was the one who asked the obvious question. “Why?”

  “This is the first time a loyal member of Sviedan Royalty will enter a city on the Borden Isles in generations,” Maelgyn pointed out. “I will not sneak into that city – indeed, I cannot, not if I hope to ever reclaim the support of its people. Instead, I will enter one of two ways: As a conqueror, with an army at my back... or as a visitor, coming to appeal to the Borden Isle Council for an end to our war. And there aren’t enough of us to be an invasion force.”

  Everyone save Euleilla was startled at this. “You can’t possibly mean to do this,” Uwelain exclaimed over everyone else’s protests. “There may be some people who would support you, but if you intend to go in the front gates you would be killed on sight!”

  “Your people would attack someone entering under a flag of truce?” Maelgyn asked, looking at Uwelain curiously.

  Uwelain looked abashed for a moment before he hesitantly answered, “Well... I don’t think anyone, save Paljor himself, would even consider something like that. The laws and customs of war must be respected on both sides, or there can never be any hope of a resolution, good or ill.”

  “In that case, I think we should go in the front gates,” Maelgyn explained. “Let’s try to do this in a way that won’t have the Borden Isles rebelling again as soon as I take a step off this island.”

  In the end, the only people Maelgyn took with him were Euleilla, Ruznak, El’Athras, Wangdu, Onayari, and Baron Uwelain. Rudel and Wodtke would remain on board the Greyholden, while Sir Leno would command a small group of soldiers who would be tasked with rescuing this diplomatic party if things went poorly and they were all imprisoned. The Baron looked rather uncomfortable being part of this entourage, but that was understandable: By entering under Svieda’s flag of truce, he was essentially declaring himself a traitor to Paljor. If this didn’t work, he would – at best – be exiled from his home for the rest of his life, even if he managed to talk his way out of being executed.

  Unlike the branches used when Maelgyn entry into Sopan with a Dwarven escort, this flag of truce his party carried this time was actually a flag. In contrast to the Dwarves, Human societies actually employed cloth flags, and a single plain white flag was all that they needed to show they wanted a parlay. It was a clearer symbol than the white or green branches most non-Human races preferred, and it meant fewer people would have their hands full in the case of treachery.

  It might have helped the seven of them if anyone had been watching their approach. Apparently, no one had even bothered to close the castle gates – not that there weren’t guards, but they didn’t seem to care about anyone just walking on in. It felt kind of silly, marching in a formal procession under the white flag while no-one paid much attention. There were a few guards lounging around on the plaza and a couple of merchants who looked on curiously, but outside of that it was as if they were any normal group of people walking through a peaceful town. The only things which made Maelgyn feel that the appearances were deceiving were the warnings being screamed at him by Sekhar. These people were not as inattentive as it appeared.

  The lack of attention was explained when they reached the front door of the Council Hall. A couple of well-armed guards stepped out before they could knock, and bowed sketchily to Maelgyn. The lead guard stepped forward. “Your Highness, we have been expecting you since we saw your ship sail past our lookout point last night. We are pleased to see you come under flag of truce, rather than with steel and battering ram.”

  Maelgyn was startled. Of all possible reactions the Borden Isle government
would have to his arrival, this was not one that he expected. “Well, yes. It doesn’t exactly look like you were prepared for a battle, though, had I come offering one.”

  “We would have been if you were,” was all the guard would say. “I assume you’re here to petition His Majesty, Sword King Paljor?”

  Maelgyn hesitated before replying, nervously rubbing his hand along the cloth band he had been using to hide Sekhar from outside view. “Actually, I hoped to speak before your Council. I’m not sure I could trust a fair hearing before Pa... before His Majesty.”

  The guard looked privately amused at that. “Perhaps not. Nevertheless, your meeting will be with His Majesty, although the Council will be present as well. And I’m afraid you don’t have much choice about it, so if you would follow me?”

  While it was easy enough getting into the castle, it would be much harder leaving if things got difficult, Maelgyn realized. The “inattentive” guards who had been mulling about the courtyard were now lined up in formation between the only door into the Council Chambers and the gates leading out of the castle. Said gates were now shut tight, and it would take quite a bit of effort to open them, again. If things went wrong now, there would be no easy escape.

  The Council Chambers were plainer and smaller than Maelgyn had expected. There was a moderately sized open floor for petitioners, but there were only twelve chairs for the Council Seats, arranged in a row on the dais. Each Seat had an alcove behind where three or four pages could take notes, dispense advice in secret, send or receive messages between Seats, and so forth. Only eleven of the chairs were filled at the moment, and the twelfth... well, from Uwelain’s wistful expression it was pretty obvious who the twelfth belonged to.

  There was also a throne, of course, on an elevated platform down center from the Council. In it sat a powerful-looking man in his mid-thirties with a dark, rich beard. He was wearing dragonhide armor, like Maelgyn himself, but that armor shone with the rich amber color of a Golden Dragon’s skin. Laid across his lap was another familiar sight – one of the Ten Swords, the royal treasures of Svieda.