by William King
“My order is quite real, lady, and not nearly so heroic as the tales would have you believe.”
“I am not surprised,” she said. “Life is full of disappointments. Would you mind if I lit a candle? I am not quite so adept at seeing in the dark as you.”
“Go ahead, but make no sudden movements.”
She stepped away and went over to the fire. With a wooden spill she lit a candle and came back over to where Kormak sat. It was beeswax, not tallow, a sign that the lady or her husband were rich. Of course, he had not needed the candle to tell him that. The fact that they had a wizard in their retinue was evidence enough. She sat down in the same chair as the wizard Tarsus had. The candle underlit her face and he was not surprised to see that she was beautiful. Something about her voice, her movements and her confidence had already told him that she would be.
“You are quite lovely,” he said, studying her golden hair, high cheekbones and large eyes.
“And you are very gallant for a monk.”
“I am not a monk, lady. I am a soldier.”
“And you fight a war against the Shadow.”
“That is an overly dramatic way of putting it.”
“I find it curious that you should appear out of nowhere at this time in this place. Why are you here? Who are you looking for?”
“I was looking for shelter from the storm.”
Her head tilted to one side and he could tell she was studying him very carefully. “I cannot tell whether you are lying or not,” she said at last.
“Why would I lie about such a thing?”
“Because you belong to an order that hunts men and wizards and other things and you are here now, of all times. It seems an odd coincidence.”
“In what way?”
“I cannot believe you would be here, in the middle of this forsaken wilderness, for no reason.”
“I was sent to recover something that was stolen, lady.” He was not exactly sure why he was telling her this but he was tired and it was on his mind and he felt the need to talk. Perhaps it was the medicine and the illness.
“And perhaps to kill the one who ordered it so?” There was an edge to that question, an under-current of nervousness and anticipation. What had he stumbled into here, Kormak wondered.
“I have said too much already.”
“No you have not. I bear you no ill will.”
“I am very pleased to hear it.” She leaned forward and without really knowing why, he reached up to move a strand of her hair that had fallen into her eyes. He was all too aware of the soft curves of her body. Kormak wondered why he was flirting with this woman. If she was, as she said, the wife of the local lord it was a very dangerous thing to do. Of course, that might have been part of its attraction. And there was the situation. It was night. They were in his room. He was affected by the medicine he had taken earlier.
“You are not what I expected at all,” she said. Her voice was soft and thoughtful.
“What did you expect?”
“A fanatic and a killer.”
“A killer I am, lady. One who wonders why you felt the need to visit him alone in the dark.”
She seemed about to say something then shook her head. “I do not think I am any wiser than when I came in but I shall deny you your rest no longer, Guardian.”
She rose from the chair and went to the door, taking her candle with her. When she left the room, more light than its went with her. Kormak lay awake in the darkness for a long time, listening to the wind howl, watching the fire die. Tired as he was, sleep would not come. At some point he thought he heard a scream but it might have been the wind or it might just have been the edge of a dream intruding into the world.
The wind still howled outside when Kormak woke. He rose from the bed and tottered to the window, throwing aside the curtains. Outside it was day but the snow storm made it hard to make out any details. He saw flakes falling hard and fast into a courtyard and beyond that he thought he saw a high stone wall. It was obvious he was in a fortified manor of some sort and quite a large one. His head felt fuzzy and vague and he still felt weak. Someone had come in through the night and put more wood on the fire. It alarmed him that he had not woken. Normally he slept lightly and the faintest noise would wake him. He was in worse shape than he thought.
He moved back towards the bed as he heard footsteps in the corridor. He was sitting upright as Tarsus entered. The wizard looked even older in the daylight. His face was deeply lined, etched with marks of pain. Crow’s feet made trenches around his eyes. His hair was a dirty grey. The whites of his eyes were yellowish. Kormak noticed that his nails were long in the manner of the eastern aristocracy, a scholarly caste who liked to show they did not need to perform manual labour, or even wield a blade.
“You have made a better recovery than I expected,” Tarsus said. “You must be a very strong man.”
Kormak looked at him. “You have come to check up on me?”
“I have. It would do my reputation no good for me to save you from the effects of cold, only to die of something else.”
“Your reputation is important to you?”
“You don’t like wizards, do you, Guardian? I suppose that is understandable.”
“I have seen too much evil worked by wizards.”
“We have no monopoly on wickedness, sir.”
“That is nothing less than the truth.”
The wizard raised one bushy grey eyebrow. “I am surprised to hear you admit it.”
“Only a fool denies what his eyes can see,” Kormak said.
“Sometimes what we see is an illusion.”
“We were doing so well there, wizard. We had found a point of agreement and you have to go and spoil it by your allusions.”
Tarsus smiled. “It was illusions I mentioned but we shall forget that. Let me see your hands.”
“They are quite functional.”
“Nonetheless I would like to inspect my work.”
Kormak extended his hands carefully. He knew of a great deal of inimical magic that could be worked by touch and he was not wearing his amulets or carrying his blade and he was still not sure how trustworthy any of these people were. The wizard took his hands and turned them over. He squinted as he inspected them. His touch felt cold.
“Very good,” he said at last. “No permanent damage. You will be able to wield a sword with what I assume will be your customary proficiency.”
“Do you expect me to have to anytime soon?”
“An odd question, Guardian.”
“I have been asked a few odd questions since I arrived.” The wizard tilted his head to one side. The amulets on his neck jingled together. “By whom?”
“By yourself. Among others.”
“This is an isolated place, people are naturally curious.”
“I am surprised to find a wizard so far from the haunts of men.”
“Why? Did you think your order had killed all of them in the area?”
Kormak wondered if Tarsus and the Lady Kathea had talked. “It is strange that a scholar should choose to live so far from the great cities and libraries.”
“You are one of those that think wizards only avoid the haunts of men if they have something to hide.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“And a very suspicious mind it is, I can see. I suppose that is only natural for a man in your profession.”
“Why do you dwell here?”
“I shall have to show you my patron’s library and his collection once you are well, then perhaps you will understand.”
“Your patron?”
“Lord Tomas is a collector of ancient artefacts and a considerable scholar in his own right.”
“Will I be meeting him any time soon?”
“You seem fit enough to be allowed out of bed so I am guessing yes. You will most likely be invited to dine with us.”
Kormak stared hard at the wizard. The old man met his gaze with rheumy eyes. He coughed and once more
his lips were speckled with blood. He noticed Kormak looking.
“I have more trouble healing myself than others,” he said. He got up and limped to the door. He stared at Kormak. “I am not the one you are looking for,” he said. “No matter what you think.”
The door closed behind him. Kormak heard it being locked.
Servants brought Kormak clean, warm clothing. It seemed to have been made for a man his height but somewhat larger about the waist. A servant showed him through the manor to the dining hall. Two men at arms accompanied them. Both looked competent and both were armed and armoured and they watched him closely. He suspected there were others within easy call.
The place was larger than he had thought. Corridors ran in many directions and the architectural style belonged to the First Empire, all clean simple lines, not the more ornate gargoyle and Elder Sign encrusted work favoured by those who ruled the West in this age of the world. The place was vast and echoing and seemed half-empty. He saw servants and men-at-arms moving about, enough so that they would have seemed a decent sized retinue for a mid-ranking nobleman in the west. Here they seemed to be lost in the vast draughty space.
All the retainers had a griffon on their tunics and griffon banners adorned the walls. It was worked into some of the ancient stonework too which suggested that either Lord Tomas’s family had been here for a very long time, or possibly more likely, they had taken their heraldic emblem from the iconography of their mansion.
The servant showed him into a huge hall that contained many tables only one of which was occupied. That table, like the others, was large enough to seat scores but there was only four people there, all clustered at the top of the table, where a bard also stood clutching a harp.
He knew three of the people; Tarsus and Lady Kathea and another man, garbed as a wandering mercenary knight. He clearly recognised Kormak. This was one of the thieves Kormak had been sent to hunt down. He had managed to escape back in Saladar. He glared at Kormak. The Guardian was very aware that the man was armed and he was not. The aristocrat at the head of the table must be Lord Tomas. He was a tall, stately looking man, silver-haired and still fit. He had the authority and the manner of a nobleman at his own hearth.
Lady Kathea met his gaze for a moment, flushed slightly then looked away. Kormak wondered what was going on here.
All of them rose, in the courtly, old-fashioned way of country nobles greeting a visitor. All of them bowed and Lord Tomas introduced them all in formal Hardic. The thief was called Wesley here. After the introductions were made, they all sat down while an array of servants brought food and wine.
“Play something for us, Ivan,” Lord Tomas said, and the bard struck up a tune. He played softly and very well. It was a tune Kormak had heard played at the court of King Brand when the elderly wanted to hear a tune popular in their youths.
“You are from Taurea, Sir Kormak,” Lord Tomas said.
“Aquilea, sir,” Kormak replied. He wondered when they would get to the real business of the evening. With Wesley present there could be no doubt Lord Tomas knew who he was and why he was here.
“I thought you were not a Sunlander. Your order has its home in Taurea though, the fortress-monastery on Mount Aethelas.”
“That is so,” said Kormak.
“There are chapter houses in all the Northern Kingdoms,” said Tarsus. “And once a long way beyond. They say the reach of your order is much diminished now although your presence here would seem to prove that wrong.” There was a note of satisfaction in his voice.
Kormak looked at them all. He had a feeling of being hemmed in by enemies. There were guards around the chamber and everyone except him was armed. He was still physically very weak. It seemed impossible that Lord Tomas did not know why Kormak had come. And yet, so far, no one had threatened him. He had been healed and treated with courtesy. It was not what he had expected at all.
“Kormak. It seems to me I have heard that name before,” said Lord Tomas. “A member of your order distinguished himself in the Orc Wars. As I recall a highlander of that name saved the life of King Brendane. Was that you?”
“I was there. I helped defend the King. I did not do it on my own.”
“That is not the way the tales tell it. The way the bards sing of it, you were found standing atop a mountain of orc corpses guarding the wounded King.”
“I was the only survivor of those guarding him at the time. The poets exaggerate the rest.”
“I wonder,” said Wesley. “There are other tales attached to the name, not all of them pleasant ones.”
Lord Tomas made a small, curt chopping gesture with his hands. “Now, Wesley, let us have no unpleasantness at our table. You are all my guests. I would have us all be friends while we are within my hall.”
Wesley smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Kormak studied him closely. He was a powerfully built man, with very pale skin, which his jet-black hair, beard and brows made seem all the more pale. His manner was lazily confident.
“I was wondering as to the nature of your association,” said Kormak. “How is it that two such disparate individuals know each other?”
It was time to start getting to the bottom of the mysteries here. Lord Tomas looked from Kormak to Wesley and seemed to come to a decision.
“I am a collector, Sir Kormak. I come from a line of collectors. My grandfather started our collection. My father enlarged it and passed it on to me and I have done my humble best to curate and extend it.”
There was real enthusiasm in the older man’s manner.
“What do you collect?” Kormak asked.
“Ancient artefacts. Old books. Objects of mystical significance from all over the world. We have cloaks woven by the Old Ones. I have a library of First Empire tomes and scrolls, all written in High Solari. I have amulets and wands and staves from the Elder world. A runestone said to belong to the Wizard-King Solareon. I have weapons and armour forged by the dwarves when they still did work for men. You possess some very fine examples of those yourself, I could not help but notice when you were brought through my gate.”
“It sounds fascinating.”
“I understand your order maintains a similar such library at Mount Aethelas. I pride myself that my own collection may some day come to rival it.”
“A worthy goal,” Kormak said.
“My husband has spent a fortune acquiring new samples for his collection,” said Lady Kathea. She did not sound at all pleased by this. A frown marred her lovely face. She ran a long-nailed finger over her full lips.
“Fortunately, my dear, I have a fortune,” said Lord Tomas. “My family own extensive estates all through eastern Belaria and my factors have proven to be merchants of superlative skill. They have done nothing but multiply the wealth I inherited. I can afford to indulge my passions.”
“We have not asked, Sir Kormak, what business brings him to this part of the world,” said Tarsus. His tone was sour. His smile malicious. It seemed that he too wanted to bring things out into the open. “Are you hunting someone, Guardian, or do you seek some deadly monster that has broken the Law.”
“I was sent to reclaim something that was stolen,” said Kormak, fixing his eyes on Wesley. “An ancient artefact as coincidence would have it. It was dredged from the World Ocean off the Sundown Islands by a fisherman and came into the hands of the Museum Keeper in Tanaar. He recognised it for what it was and sent to my order for someone to dispose of it. While I was en route, the museum was robbed and the Keeper murdered. The thieves fled with what they had taken.”
“And what was that,” Lord Tomas asked. There was a strange glitter in his eyes.
“An ancient amphora from the time of the Emperor Solareon. In it was bound a Ghul, one of the demons sometimes known as the Stealers of Flesh.”
“Why would anyone want such an object?” Lady Kathea asked. She was staring hard at her husband. Kormak sensed animosity there.
Kormak looked from Wesley to Tarsus to Tomas. He let his gaze rest on each o
ne in turn. “I don’t know. The thing imprisoned within the amphora is a very dangerous creature, a peril to both body and soul.”
“I believe that is merely a matter of opinion,” said Lord Tomas.
“It is more than that I can assure you,” said Kormak. “The demons are all but unkillable without specially forged runic weapons. They are bodiless, restless evil spirits. To live they must possess the bodies of new victims every few days or weeks. The Emperor Solareon bound them into amphorae. After his death, his successor Justin the Holy, repulsed by the thought of such things being stored in his palace, ordered the jars to be thrown into the deepest part of the ocean. It was a cursed day when this one showed up in that fisherman’s nets. The thieves that took it made a very grave mistake.”
“Did they, Sir Kormak?” Lord Tomas asked. There was a cold smile on his face. Kormak decided he wanted to end this charade now.
“One of the thieves fell from the wall when he left the museum. His leg was broken. His companions abandoned him. He fell into the hands of the local magistrate who was not gentle. Under torture he gave a description of his confederates and the name of the man who employed him.”
“Did he now?” Lord Tomas said. He seemed more amused than threatened.
“I overtook the thieves on the road, in Saladar. Only one of them escaped me. The strangest thing is, I see him sitting at this table.” He pointed a finger at Wesley.
“And I suppose the thief claimed that I was the man who employed him,” said Lord Tomas.
“He did, sir,” said Kormak.
“He did not lie,” said the nobleman.
“I never for a moment thought so,” said Kormak.
“Well that has certainly cleared the air,” said Tarsus. He coughed. Blood speckled his lips. He wiped it away with a napkin. The gesture was surprisingly delicate.
“I am surprised you are taking the news so calmly,” said Kormak. He studied the table. There was a knife there intended for carving meat. It was not much of a weapon but it was better than none at all.