That surprised Benayle. Rameum usually ate the local food whenever he’d visited Drtithen, but his servants took their food from their own stores. The prince was the only dwarf Benayle had met who liked vykati food. Their friendship was built on that and rugby.
The old wolf let out an honest laugh. “Maybe for any vykati that visit, but I don’t get the impression that dwarves care for our food.”
“The meat’s all good and I think that we can change their take on the spices with proper marketing.”
Benayle doubted it, but said nothing.
“Well,” Rameum said with a touch of self-importance. “I need to go get ready for the gala tonight, but I did want to thank you again for the rugby ball. I’ve already made space for it in my Tig…, er, Privateers, display case.”
It made Benayle happy to hear that. It hadn’t been a problem at all for him to get the ball signed, but he was still feeling bad about giving the prince a bloody nose. The three exchanged handshakes again and Simon and the vykati took their leave of the dwarf.
They’d traveled only a block or so from the meeting when Simon pulled out a sheet of paper and read it quickly before handing it to Benayle, who didn’t look at it at all.
“I’ve already been through that manifest more than I wanted. It’s all written in ancient Rahahadam for all I know.”
Simon pressed his hand against the paper and said with uncharacteristic sternness, “Read it.”
With that kind of language, the old wolf felt obligated to at least glance at it. This was not the manifest for the elf warship like he’d thought it was. It was a mechanically drafted message and it had to be very recent.
Benayle will be leaving on schedule. The crew has been paid. They’ll ensure that he is where you wanted him. Still don’t know who he’s been talking to here, but I will keep you posted.
“What’s this?” the wolf leader asked.
“A little message that your friend, the prince, was carrying with him.”
That stopped the vykati in his tracks. He put his arm out in front of the conman to stop him as well. “You pickpocketed Rameum?”
“My dear old wolf, of course I did.”
For a brief moment, Benayle didn’t know what to say. Simon had just admitted that?
“You weren’t at all suspicious about him lurking in the shadows there…no I suppose you wouldn’t be.”
“He said he was looking to build new hotels…”
Simon rolled his eyes at Benayle. “And so am I,” he said dryly.
“Maybe he found it out here and was about to report it to the proper authorities.”
“And maybe Sajani will testify under oath that I’ve done an honest day’s work.”
“You haven’t?” came the feigned reply.
Simon let out an exasperated sigh. “Only by her definition, but if he was about to report it to the authorities we can find out easily enough.”
Benayle knew exactly what the trickster was saying. He was hesitant to think that Rameum would do anything to put him in danger. The letter didn’t specifically say that he was, but even trying to look at the letter in as positive light as possible, it didn’t seem like their intention was to invite him to a basketball game.
The following morning, standing before the same steps he’d entered by a couple of weeks before, Benayle found himself very grateful that he was a teetotaler like most of his people. He noticed Simon rubbing the sides of his head as the bugler called the movements of the troops that were present for his send off.
The irony of that, was that Simon had made him go to the gala. The vykati was glad he had—he had enjoyed it very much. Empress Rosa seemed to have a much better grasp of wolf social customs than her husband. Unlike the state events he’d attended in Rhidayar and Zenache, that centered around drinking and food and not much else, there’d been games and dancing, as well as food and plenty of fresh drinks and water. There was liquor as well, or it was unlikely a single dwarf would have come without compulsion, but the table for drinks was well away from him so that the odor of the fermenting beverages wasn’t a constant assault on his nose.
The food had been devoid of any good seasoning, but it didn’t surprise him that the dwarves weren’t importing spices from Rhidayar or Vharkylia on a regular basis. At least there was plenty of meat.
A small part of Benayle felt sorry for the people whose flights had been rerouted to cover for his deception, but the workings of nations sometimes had to intrude on the lives of their own people for the greater good. It wasn’t something he relished, and he could count on one paw without the use of his thumb the number of times he’d done something similar to his own people. It was a necessary evil for which the emperor had provided all of the arrangements.
The large dirigible that was to be his transport home glided smoothly to the docking platform and dropped down its starboard mooring lines to be secured. There were dwarven guards in the same places that they’d been for his arrival and the two squads of wolf pack soldiers who were his personal escort were now standing at the top of the platform. The dignitaries present for his departure were the same ones who had been present when he had first disembarked, including Prince Rameum.
As he and Simon started walking towards the dirigible, the guards lifted their axes in salute and snapped to attention. It was just as impressive as it had been when he’d seen it the first time. The gangplank on the dirigible had descended. About halfway up the steps, a group of six guards broke away from the formation and began following them, not more than two steps behind. The group of well-wishers that included the emperor and empress followed behind.
Benayle glanced over at Simon and could see from his expression that the conman wasn’t comfortable with their closeness, but that had been expected. Once they crested the flight of stairs, the guards split evenly to the left and right, turned and saluted, and allowed the approaching dignitaries to see Benayle and Simon directly. Both the vykati and the human turned to face their friends and benefactors.
“Empress Rosa and Emperor Eduardo, thank you both so much for your gracious hospitality. I believe that this visit has been a huge step forward for relations between our two countries—it has definitely exceeded my expectations of what we could accomplish.” The last part, Benayle knew to be truer than just about anything else he could say. He bowed low, a gesture that was formally returned by all but the soldiers, who remained motionless at attention, and the dwarven rulers.
As he stood back up, Benayle looked over at Rameum. “I’d like a special word with the prince before I go,” he said.
The emperor nodded and even managed to look like the request had surprised him. Prince Rameum approached with a step that was particularly jaunty for a dwarf. There was a huge smile across his face.
Once he was close enough to address Benayle at a normal volume, he said amiably, “I will miss you, old friend.”
Benayle did not return the smile, but the dwarf didn’t seem to notice.
“Still up for that wager?” At this point, the dwarf finally noticed the vykati leader’s silence and his expression changed to one of confusion.
“Friends,” Benayle began, feeling the heat rising around his lips and nose, “don’t arrange the death of friends.”
A brief look of panic seemed to cross the dwarf’s face, but he seemed to control it. He let out a nervous laugh. “That’s pretty cryptic, friend.”
The second use of the word caused still more heat to rise to the wolf’s face. He pulled out the piece of paper that Simon had taken the day previous.
Without even seeing the contents, Rameum’s face went white, but he still tried to hide it with another broken laugh. “What is that? The new Vharkylia rugby bracket? You managed to get it here after all?”
“How much did you have to pay the crew?”
There was complete silence. The guards had to have heard the entire exchange, just as they were meant to. Rameum seemed uncertain for a few seconds, but then Benayle saw the flash of meta
l as the dwarf pulled out a hidden dagger. “I’ll kill you myself then, you disgusting dog!”
Benayle allowed his anger to control him and with a single hit, knocked the dagger from Rameum’s hand. It was followed by a clean strike with the wolf’s fist right across the dwarf’s face. The blow threw the prince backwards. He stumbled on the steps, but managed to keep his balance.
As ordered, Benayle’s personal guard stood their ground, but the dwarven guards had already begun moving. Before they arrived, Benayle got in a swift kick to the dwarf’s stomach that made the traitor tumble down the steps. There was a flash of light as a yellow ball of magical energy was tossed from Simon’s hand and struck the dwarf on one shoulder. As it hit, Rameum was covered in sparks and stopped moving completely.
Forcing himself to calm quickly, the wolf looked up at the group of people before him. All but the royalty wore looks of shock. The emperor and empress wore expressions of grim determination. “At a guess, I’d say he doesn’t like pet dogs either.”
The dirigible, its crew having witnessed the whole exchange, released its moorings and started to rise, but hidden guards who had been stationed below it fired off grappling hooks that caught magically to its side railings and held it in place. A nearby loudspeaker boomed out, “Forbearance, you are now officially impounded and your crew will be placed under arrest. In the name of Emperor Eduardo, we ask you to lay down your weapons or we will match force with force.”
There was no resistance. Either Rameum hadn’t paid them much or they knew about the Engine controlled defenses that covered the airship docks—most likely both.
The guards and most of the diplomatic detachment began to disperse, but the emperors approached Benayle and Simon. Both wore grim expressions. Rosa spoke first. “I would have preferred that you allowed us to simply arrest him without all the dramatics, but I honor your customs on this.”
Benayle nodded. He’d told them that Vharkylia required as much chance at redemption as possible before a friend could be accused of such a vile crime. It wasn’t exactly true of all in his country, but it was certainly true of him. “I do appreciate, your majesty, your understanding in this matter. I could not have lived with myself if he did not have every opportunity to prove that he meant me no harm.”
“Even at risk to yourself? What would your country do if something had happened to you?”
“Two things that might interest you about that, my dear,” Benayle said simply, “First, I’m sure Lord General Crore has some idea by now what Vharkylia would do without me.” It was an inside joke that only he got. “And secondly, I’ve played against the prince in basketball. There was never any worry.”
The emperor chuckled, “Vykati basketball must be much more…aggressive, than the sport we play here.”
“You have no idea, your majesty. We’ll intrude on you for only a day more and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Hardly an intrusion,” Eduardo assured him. “You have uncovered a spy in our midst. While he was feeding someone information on you in this one case, it’s likely that he sold information about us as well. That might explain some rather odd gate openings over the last few weeks.”
Benayle wisely said nothing and let Simon respond. The conman said with so much real sincerity, it almost seemed insincere. “Gate openings? What gates?”
“Nothing that you would have come across on your visit, Mr. Francis.” The emperor cleared his throat and turned back to Benayle. “Mr. Benayle Ramisa, we are in your debt for uncovering this subterfuge. Is there anything that we can do for you before your departure tomorrow?”
There hadn’t been, but once the offer was made, the old wolf realized that there was one thing that he wanted. “Yes, your majesty, there is in fact,” he said with a sarcastic grin crossing his face, “I’d really like my rugby ball back.”
The real send off the next day, was much more to Benayle’s liking. New ship. New crew. New course and he didn’t have to bow a single time.
At the main alter of the Drtithen Cathedral, a priestess knelt in prayer. She’d been there for almost an hour. It wasn’t uncommon for her Most Reverend Mother to spend long periods of time in prayer. In many ways, it was expected of her and she was happy for the quiet times of solitude and reprieve from the inner workings and politics that her job often entailed.
And she really did pray—each Aspect on its day and Ahj on the holy days—it wasn’t all a quiet reprieve. Today there had been a visitor to the capital—an elf, like the ones who had conquered Zenache. He’d already departed. Normally, in times of great uncertainty, like such a visitor implied, Benayle would come to the cathedral and speak with her. With their leader away, no one else seemed to feel any sort of compulsion to visit, not even the king and queen.
And that worried her. So she prayed.
She worried about the future of Vharkylia and her son. Kyle was seven and things didn’t look too hopeful for the world he’d grow up in. She worried that she was too old to do anything about it all. Thirty-five was hardly old for a wolf. It was very young for a reverend mother. But her traveling days were long over and her mindset too settled.
She was left wondering who would take care of her son if something happened to her. There was no reason for the thought to have entered her mind, but since she was in the manner of praying, she took it in stride and thought on it. Her husband would take care of her child and given the position she currently held, the people of the cathedral would help. Her son would grow up well taken care of with or without her. She did prefer with.
She then saw a vision, as though it was a memory that she had already experienced, even though it obviously took place in the future. Her son was standing before the Drtithen Council and Riteyai Lords, being sworn in as a judge. A lawyer? Kyle would be a lawyer? She hoped not. She’d always hoped that he would follow her footsteps and be a priest or follow his father and be an accountant. Her mind did settle with the concept though. It might have been a vision given to her through prayer, but it might have just as easily been a lax moment when her imagination had wandered in an odd direction.
She searched with her heart and found herself feeling proud of what her son would accomplish. She knew instinctively, that it would be a good direction for him and that he’d be able to do lots of good with his life by choosing that path.
So perhaps it was a vision. Perhaps the Aspects were trying to tell her something. It seemed odd that it would be something so personal, and not something that had to do with the current event that had brought her before the alter today.
And then her mind was torn completely from the cathedral and unlike the prior vision she had experienced, there was no room to doubt it came from a divine source. It was night and she stood in the midst of a group of vykati—only one of whom, she recognized. Sajani was there, facing a male wolf who towered a good thirty centimeters over the warden’s impressive height. A ginger colored vykati was being carried over her shoulders and a gray vykati with a mangled leg was over the larger wolf’s shoulders. The huge wolf was in the process of leaning against Sajani and the priestess clearly heard him say, “There are others we can save.”
The vision ended abruptly there, but the voice of the vykati stayed with her and echoed in her mind. She heard him say it four times and on the fifth, his words changed slightly, “There are others you can save,” he said.
The Most Reverend Mother rose abruptly from the alter, startling the priestess who had approached the alter on her own business.
“Mother Westa!” the priestess exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
Westa removed the mantel from her shoulders and the chains she wore around her neck. Both signified her position. Placing them in the hands of the shocked priestess, she walked off. “These are now yours. I have somewhere else I urgently need to be.”
Chapter Eleven:
The Supply Depot
It was a solemn meeting. Sajani had called it as soon as she got the first bit of information from Fenther, who had
returned from his latest supply run a week early. No sooner had he started his report, than she realized that it was urgent and the others needed to be gathered as soon as possible. She cut him off and sought out her leaders.
They met in what had come to be known as the helm—a large canopy held up with collapsible poles that was ideal for meetings in the summer heat. Walls could be added for winter or privacy, but right now, there wasn’t time.
Ginger and Tenner, Tess, ‘fang, and Chass, and her four squad leaders, Harg, Drak, Ful, and Muk were already present. Doc and Ghenis came walking and hobbling up respectively. Sajani didn’t wait for them to be seated.
“Fenther,” she said, nodding at the writer, “Tell us what you learned.”
The usually over-verbose man didn’t mince words at all, “Rhidayar has fallen to the elves. In response to that, the kingdom of Dargaleck has agreed to become a subject state of Therfass.”
“I’m surprised they were given the option,” Ghenis said.
“Apparently the remaining nations of the Eastern Continent were all given the same choice, including Vharkylia.” Fenther replied.
“We have to be having some impact,” Tess said with more doubt than hope, “or they would have just marched on through.”
The question on all of their minds was asked by Chass, “And what of Vharkylia? What is their response?”
“Word is that the Drtithen Council allowed the elven envoy to enter and leave, but refused to hear him. The Riteyai Lords didn’t respond at all.”
“Benayle isn’t back yet?” Sajani asked. The others gave her a puzzled look so she added, “That old wolf wouldn’t have even told the council there was an option.” There were nods of agreement.
“Apparently not,” Fenther said, “I haven’t heard anything about him since he went to the Western Continent.”
Wolf's Pawn (Sajani Tails Book 1) Page 25