The messenger looked astonished. “Milord Paumer, are you implying that I or some other of my —”
“I don’t know what I imply,” Paumer snarled, turning his back on the man. Nebalath watched the fellow’s face for some little tic or smirk that might betray duplicity, but the man remained impassive as Paumer continued, “I just had a very strange experience when I arrived here yesterday. It’s the first time I’ve been here since — oh, sometime last fall. The lesser servants tend not to recognize me when I show up, since I rarely think to warn anyone that I’m coming, but the core of the staff has been the same for years. Yet yesterday I found none of that core staff present!”
Paumer leaned across the table toward the man, his fists planted on its polished surface. “Stranger still, instead of wearing the blue and red livery I’ve made famous throughout the old One Land, these strangers were all clothed in blue and — lime green!” The agent frowned at Paumer, listening with evident concern. The merchant took a deep breath and shook his head. “I was so astonished I couldn’t think of anything to say, but none of them stopped me as I walked straight to my apartments to bathe and change clothes. Imagine my dismay to find my bed stripped of linens and my closet empty!”
Once again Paumer was pacing, his eyes trailing along the uppermost rows of the many volumes that lined the room. “The staff later assured me this was due only to summer cleaning. They rushed me fresh clothing and were very apologetic as they drew my bath. By the time I was dressed, every servant in the place wore the blue and red you see today. But I wonder … Ognadzu was the member of my family who most enjoyed this bush house. In fact, it was from this mansion that he fled. Could it be he’s hiding here somewhere? Had he been watching when I arrived, and did he instruct the servants — his servants, now — to change their livery and pretend to be in service still to me?”
The spy wore an expression of convincing astonishment at this suggestion. Nebalath assumed his own face, if visible, would look the same. But at that moment the new steward knocked on the library door and announced that the expected guests were arriving, so there was no more time to think about it now. Paumer quickly scuttled to a spot on the far wall and pulled out a book, and a section of the shelves opened up to reveal a secret passageway. The agent hurried inside and Paumer replaced the book to make the passageway close. Then he stepped to the door, took a deep breath, donned his bright, false smile, and said, “Please tell them to come in!”
As quietly as he could, Nebalath slipped around the perimeter of the room and read the title of that book. He was a wizard, true, and could pop about at will, but one never knew when a secret passageway might come in handy, even to a powershaper.
“Jarnel!” Paumer gushed to the gaunt, weary-eyed soldier who stepped through the library doors. “You were able to get away! And how is the Prince of the Army of Arl?”
“I don’t know,” Jarnel responded flatly, “since I no longer bear that title.” The former leader of all Arlian armies had fallen into disfavor with his king and had spent the winter in a tent in the Marwilds on a fruitless search for Sheth. He assumed Paumer was mocking him. “You know that I lost my command.”
“I know that you did,” Paumer replied ebulliently. “But I also apparently know more than you do about the internal affairs of the Arlian High Command. Haven’t you heard? You’ve been reinstated!” That was news to Nebalath. too, but he wasn’t surprised by anything the paranoid King of Arl might do. As to Paumer knowing about it — his agents were placed in every part of every Fragment.
The wizard understood Jarnel’s answering frown. Nothing would please the old warrior more than to assume again that office he had filled for years. At the same time, he hated hearing the news from Paumer. “That makes no sense.” Jarnel grunted. “Why would the king dismiss Arkabet? The man hasn’t had time even to fight a battle yet, much less lose one.”
Paumer shrugged. “Nevertheless, that’s the word from the Arlian court. Please don’t feel badly that you haven’t heard,” he added, for Paumer was a careful student of people, and he’d understood immediately Jarnel’s reaction. “You’ve been deep in the wilds for so long I’m certain the news just hasn’t had time to reach you.”
“Your message did,” the stoic warrior pointed out.
“Your crazy king won’t even let you reveal your identity to your own staff!” Paumer argued with a smile. “He probably doesn’t even know where you are himself. I, on the other hand, knew exactly where to find you. You arrested me at the beginning of the winter — remember?”
Jarnel nodded stiffly and looked away. Paumer seemed to bring out the worst in the old general. Nebalath wondered what Jarnel was thinking.
“Is this where we meet?” a voice from the door asked, and Paumer and Jarnel both turned to see Ranoth, Ruling Elder of City Lamath, stepping into the library.
“Ranoth!” Paumer beamed, his tone of voice identical to that with which he’d greeted Jarnel. “How wonderful that you could come! Is Talarath with you?”
The question was answered even as he asked it, for Seagryn’s father-in-law followed Ranoth into the room. They were quite a contrast. Talarath was tall and thin, with such a severe manner that smiles directed to him tended to die upon the lips. Ranoth was much shorter and usually had a merry twinkle in his eyes that suggested he knew far more about life than priests were supposed to know. Nebalath had known Ranoth a long time — a very long time — and they had, in fact, learned some of those things together. But Ranoth had been a person born to rule, and he’d been willing to compromise his own attitudes in any way necessary in order to rise to a position of authority. It was a pity in some ways, Nebalath thought, but not for the people of Lamath. They’d benefited from having a Ruling Elder who could be tolerant.
At the moment, however, Ranoth’s gaze wasn’t tolerant at all. Paumer noticed. “Is something wrong?” the merchant asked.
“With your network of spies you certainly know that we left Lamath in flames,” Ranoth answered accusingly. “I would consider that something wrong — would you not?”
“Ahh,” Paumer nodded, fingering the turquoise bunting that draped the back of his chair, representative of Pleclypsa. “The dragon.”
“Your dragon, Paumer,” Talarath proclaimed.
“My dragon.” Paumer nodded, pretending puzzlement. “Wasn’t a certain member of your family seen riding that dragon around Lamath?”
“I’ll not claim him.” Talarath snorted, but the comment had obviously embarrassed him and Paumer had regained the upper hand.
“I don’t know what we’re to do with — Chaom!” Paumer sang, turning again to the door and summoning once more that cloying smile that made Nebalath want to gag. “Welcome!”
A big, beefy man nodded to the others as he stepped around the table to sit in a chair draped in purple. He saved his last greeting for Jarnel, whom he’d often faced on the field of battle.
General Chaom was Jarnel’s counterpart in the land of Haran, and their armies had clashed regularly over the recent years. Chaom’s small features seemed lost in his big, round face, much as his quiet voice seemed to lose itself in this book-lined room when he asked, “Why do we need to do anything with Chaom?”
“I wasn’t speaking of you, friend, I was talking about Seagryn. Have you seen him?”
Chaom glanced around at the others suspiciously. “Why? Should I have seen him?”
Paumer smiled patiently. “He’s been sighted in Lamath riding on the dragon, and I wondered if perhaps you’ve heard similar reports from places around Haranamous?”
Chaom’s eyes did another quick circuit of the room. “No.”
Paumer waited for further elaboration, but Chaom offered none. Nebalath smiled at this. He’d worked with Chaom for many years and knew the man would say nothing he didn’t feel was absolutely necessary. When the silence became embarrassing, Paumer cleared his throat, pulled out his own chair, and sat down. “Shall we begin?” The others followed his lead.
&nbs
p; The pitifully low attendance was immediately apparent. More than half the chairs were empty. “Is this us?” Chaom asked. “Where’s Dark?”
“My soon-to-be son-in-law is making preparations for his wedding,” Paumer lied brightly, “as is, of course, my daughter. They won’t be joining us.”
An ironic smile turned up the corners of Chaom’s small mouth. “And your son?”
“Indisposed, I fear,” Paumer lied again, but this time with a hint of warning to Chaom to drop the subject. “To be honest, I rather appreciate this opportunity for us older members of the Grand Council to converse in private.”
“I thought it was you who wanted new blood?” Jarnel said.
“Yes, well, perhaps I was in error,” Paumer answered briskly, still unwilling to yield entirely his smile.
“Where are Wilker and Garney?” Chaom asked, still casually taking roll. “And where’s Sheth? Does he plan to grace us with his presence today?”
“You know Sheth, Chaom.” Jarnel sneered. “He’s probably standing cloaked in a corner of the room at this moment, waiting to make his grand appearance after everyone else has arrived.”
Nebalath hadn’t thought about that, but it was true. It was a wonder they hadn’t bumped into each other already.
“Sheth promised he would be here,” Paumer announced. “As to the representatives from the Remnant, Garney felt he could not leave his post at the Outer Portal. Wilker arrived last night, and I’m wondering where he is …” The merchant stood, went to the door, and spoke quietly to a servant posted right outside. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” he added as he returned to his chair.
Nebalath sneered. Wilker was probably downstairs in his apartments, gazing into a mirror to make sure he looked as dashing as possible. Nobody said it, but Nebalath knew they all were thinking the same. Wilker was a vain, self-serving fop whose only contribution to the Grand Council rested in the fact that he would actually leave the Remnant to attend meetings. He was one of the few citizens of that underground civilization that had ever seen the light of day.
“Shall we begin?” Paumer asked again, and this time no one interrupted. “First, to report the obvious, Sheth successfully completed the forging — as he terms it — of the dragon. Unfortunately Seagryn took it upon himself to interrupt the process before the beast was trained and allowed it to escape. So you see, we have a problem.”
“What problem?” Jarnel asked. “I thought the plan was to make a beast that would cause such terror that the Fragments would all be forced to unite to stop it. Isn’t that what’s happened?”
“We had hoped to be able to control the destruction to some degree — to direct the dragon, if you will, in what to destroy and what not to.”
Chaom chuckled bitterly. “In which case a Paumer mansion would certainly never be burned, while all remaining free traders naturally would be.”
Paumer looked at him. “That was not the plan.”
“Come now, Paumer,” Chaom continued. “Who was supposed to manage this destruction? You and Sheth planned to do it between you, and all of us knew from the beginning that you would eventually use the beast to advance your own interests over ours! I feel appreciative toward Seagryn, myself. At least the beast is free to create havoc at random, and that, as Jarnel said, really was the original intention.”
Ranoth spoke up quickly. “Perhaps, if the dragon were burning your Fragment rather than ours, you’d feel less charitable toward Seagryn.”
“Apparently Seagryn is controlling it!” Talarath added. “The rumor in Lamath is that it was Seagryn who made the beast in the first place!”
“I made it,” Sheth said flatly, suddenly appearing in the middle of the table. That’s why they hadn’t bumped into one another, Nebalath thought to himself — because Sheth preferred to watch invisibly from the center of the action, never from the edge.
There were few gasps at the wizard’s sudden appearance. These men had all seen the trick before. “Oh, there you are,” Paumer muttered. “How long have you been here?”
Sheth ignored him. “I made it, and now it’s trying to unmake me.” He glanced around the table until he was certain he had everyone’s eyes, then went on, “It has tried to kill me repeatedly since Seagryn loosed it. Burned out my home. Chased me out of the Marwilds. That’s why it’s burning in Lamath now, make no mistake. It thinks I’m there.”
“Then perhaps,” Ranoth said, “you could hop down off the table and tell us how to convince it you’re here, instead?”
Sheth turned his dazzling smile on the old priest. A certain female jester in the court of Haran had often tried to convince Nebalath that the combination of Sheth’s appearance and his awesome magical abilities rendered him the most attractive man in the old One Land. While Nebalath wouldn’t go that far, he did have to admit that Sheth’s dimples, perfect teeth, and mysterious mustache made the wizard a handsome man. “You would love that, wouldn’t you, old man,” Sheth sneered.
“I would love to be rid of the dragon, yes. It is burning my villages and eating my people. I came to this meeting hoping to find a way to destroy it. Do you have any suggestions?”
Sheth shrugged elaborately and slid off the table. “The plan was to let the governments of the Fragments find a solution, not us.” He slumped into the black-draped chair set aside for the second representative from Arl.
“We are the government of one of the Fragments!” Ranoth snapped, adding with a glance at Talarath, “or most of it, anyway. If you made the beast, help us to discover the means to kill it!”
“I did make it,” Sheth replied firmly. He then closed his eyes. “Killing it is not my problem.”
Chaom leaned forward to direct his comments to Ranoth. “If indeed Seagryn can control the dragon, it seems to me that we ought to be seeking Seagryn’s assistance, not Sheth’s.”
Sheth opened his eyes and sat back up at that, his handsome face suddenly fierce. “Seagryn can’t control it! No one can control it! I’ve made the most powerful monster in history, and there’s not any one person who can do anything about it.” His pride in his horrible creation was unmistakable.
“How do you know, Sheth?” Jarnel asked.
Sheth frowned at the general. They had battled side by side for Arl for many years, but neither made any secret of their mutual disgust. “What?”
“How do you know it can’t be controlled? If this is indeed the first such beast, perhaps Seagryn has found a weakness you’re too blind to see.”
“Look,” Sheth snarled, turning around to face Jarnel directly. “Perhaps you don’t recall this, but I made a small twi-beast out of a pair of mice before I ever designed Vicia-Heinox. I tried every way I could think of to control my little mouse-dragon, but without success. It’s far more powerful than I — and it’s only this big!” He spread his hands in front of him to indicate the size of a large bird. He smiled over his shoulder to the others. “It takes particular pleasure in consuming cats, of all things. Can you imagine?” Then he frowned back at Jarnel. “I’m Sheth, remember? If I can’t control a mouse-dragon no bigger than a tree-munk, how is anyone to control Vicia-Heinox?”
Ranoth raised his eyebrows. “It appears, then, that all the hatred and loathing directed at Seagryn really ought to be aimed at you.”
“Seagryn’s reputation is my doing, actually,” Paumer confessed. “In the wake of the dragon’s destruction, is was clear that someone needed to serve as the focal point for the world’s revulsion. Since Seagryn released the beast, he seemed the logical choice. Apparently he’s accepted tire role, since we hear now that he’s traveling with the dragon.”
“None of which gets us any closer to a solution of the problem you and Sheth have created for us,” Ranoth murmured, and his words brought Sheth out of his chair. The wizard crouched over the table, bestowing his glare on the whole group.
“Look at you all! You’re supposedly the most powerful people of this age, and all you can do is sit around this table and hate Sheth! You liste
n to me! I did nothing but what you asked me to do! You wanted a worldwide problem that would force the Fragments to work together for a solution, and I caused one for you! Why don’t you people do your part now? Why don’t you get your precious governments together and solve it?”
Nebalath knew Sheth was about to disappear — it was too dramatic a speech not to use for an exit line — but Ranoth called out to him before he could go. “And what about you? Will you help us?”
Sheth pulled himself up to his full height. “Help you? I have a dragon hunting for me! It’s going to be all I can do to survive!” Then Sheth disappeared. Nebalath nodded to himself. It had been a classic appearance by his longtime rival, and he’d learned a lot from it. But not what he wanted to know. Where was Seagryn? Still on one of the heads of the dragon, apparently. Then where was the dragon? If indeed Sheth was right and this Vicia-Heinox creature was hunting him down, perhaps in a meeting with Sheth was not the safest place to be. But surely the wizard had overstated the danger. If indeed it would take a Fragmentwide effort to stop the beast, and Sheth’s personal survival depended upon it, then Sheth would ultimately be willing to help find the solution. Nebalath would wager on it.
The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2) Page 11