The God-Stone War m-4

by Michael G. Manning

  She gave me a sour look, while over her shoulder I could see Dorian shrugging helplessly, as if to say he had no idea what her plan was. “Drink that and I’ll answer your question,” Lady Thornbear replied.

  I stared at her stoically as I threw the entire cup back, finishing it in one long draught. My manful feat was ruined by the fit of coughing that ensued afterward though. My belly felt as if it had caught fire, and my throat seemed to be attempting to repay me for the insult by choking me to death. “Damn it all!” I gasped at last. “What was that?” It hadn’t been like any alcohol I had ever tasted before.

  Elise smiled for the first time since I had awakened. “Next time pay attention. It was pure alcohol, or as close as I could distill it.” She handed me another cup, “Try to get her to drink this.”

  I could only assume she meant Moira, but there was no way in hell I would put my daughter through such misery. “She’s only seven!” I protested. “You can’t expect me to give that to a child.”

  “Taste it,” replied Dorian’s mother in a voice that indicated I had said something foolish. She never failed to make me feel as though I hadn’t managed to grow up completely. I sniffed the cup before trying a small sip. I found it to be sweet and much more pleasant. It tasted as though she had mixed her spirits with milk and honey.

  My first thought however was indignation, “Why did you mix it so sweetly for her yet you forced me to drink liquid fire!?”

  Elise Thornbear seemed exasperated. “How long has it been since you were poisoned?” she asked, ignoring my own question.

  Of course I had no idea how long I had slept, so I simply stared at her in frustration for a moment before gesturing to Dorian. “Well? You should know better than I do right now. How long?”

  My friend looked uncomfortable at my dragging him into the tense discussion with his mother, but after a few anxious seconds he managed to tally up the hours. “I believe it’s about seven or so now, so probably around ten hours,” he answered.

  “The poison in your system primarily affects your liver. It has already compromised its functioning, and sometime between twelve and twenty-four hours after ingestion your liver will begin to die. At that point there is nothing anyone can do to save you. If you want your daughter to live, you’ll give her that cup first and we can discuss my reasons afterward,” explained Lady Thornbear.

  As Penny will tell you, I am sometimes rather thick, but when it comes to my family, I tend to sort my priorities out quickly. I woke Moira and coaxed her into drinking the sweet mixture. My daughter was none too happy about it though. She still felt nauseous, and the taste of the alcohol in the drink wasn’t pleasant for her.

  “Do I have to drink this Daddy?” she said, after finishing the first half.

  Stroking her cheek, I smiled at her, “I know it tastes bad, but you have to drink it if you want to feel better.” I continued encouraging her until she managed to finish the entire cup. Once she had finished I turned my attention back to Dorian’s mother, “Now if you wouldn’t mind explaining why I’m trying to force feed a bit of tipple to my daughter. Is it some sort of antidote?”

  Lady Thornbear graced me with a smile before answering, “Not exactly. Something in the poison you imbibed affects the liver in a negative and very permanent manner. At some point though, it was discovered that alcohol seems to prevent the damage it does to the liver. It doesn’t negate any of the drug’s other effects though, it simply preserves the liver until your body can eliminate the poison on its own.”

  “What about the damage it has already done?” I said anxiously. I was worried more for Moira’s sake than my own. She was only seven. Starting life with a badly damaged liver didn’t seem like a good beginning to me.

  “Your power should return once the poison has worked its way out of your system,” said Elise, trying to reassure me.

  I shook my head, “That’s not what I mean. What about her liver?”

  “It will recover. Of all the organs in your body, the liver is one of the few that can regenerate… given half a chance,” she replied.

  A warm feeling washed over me, and my cheeks felt flushed. The potent spirits that Elise had given me were already starting to take effect. “So you really think drinking will keep us alive?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “The theory is that your liver, which normally filters and removes toxins from your blood, damages itself when it tries to break down the active principle in magebane. As you may also know, the liver is primarily involved in destroying alcohol in your body as well. There really isn’t any way for us to be sure, but the most likely possibility is that keeping your liver busy with an overabundance of alcohol, prevents it from damaging itself by interacting with the magebane.”

  My thoughts were fuzzy now, but I was still following the conversation easily enough. My early studies in physiology hadn’t been nearly as in depth as whatever Dorian’s mother had learned, but they enabled me to keep up at least. “If the liver filters and removes toxins, and the alcohol prevents it from removing the magebane… how does it work itself out of my system over time?” I asked, somewhat astutely I thought.

  Lady Thornbear’s features softened, “You were always bright as a child, Mordecai. The kidneys also remove waste products from the blood. Given enough time, they will remove many things, even if the liver hasn’t done its job on them.”

  “Momma says Daddy is the smartest man in Lothion,” piped Moira suddenly. Proof that she paid more attention to adult conversations than I usually credited her with.

  I blushed even more, “I really doubt that’s the case, sweetheart.” She never says that in front of me, I noted with an inward smile.

  “Your mother is a very sharp woman, dear one,” said Elise, putting a hand on Moira’s cheek. “She had her eye on your father long before he realized it, back when he was just a lad. Now I need you to drink another cup for me. Can you do that?”

  Moira made a face but nodded her agreement.

  “How much do you intend to give her?” I asked worriedly.

  Lady Thornbear frowned. “Too much, I’m afraid. No one is really sure how much is necessary. Given the high stakes, I plan to push the limit. I will have to make sure you are as drunk as you can possibly manage, without endangering your life. The hangover afterward will probably be quite memorable.”

  I gulped. “For how long?”

  “One day might be enough, but two days to be sure. You will hate me by the time this is over, Mordecai,” she replied as she poured another measure of liquid torture into my cup.

  I forced myself to drink the terrible stuff before finally broaching the topic that had been on my mind, “Years ago, Genevieve told me that you learned your herbal lore from your mother, but that isn’t really true is it?”

  Elise flinched, almost as if she had been struck, and then her features hardened. “Dorian, take little Moira for a walk for a few minutes.”

  He balked at that, “I don’t think she should be walking right now, Mother.”

  “Then carry her, dolt! I didn’t mean she should have to walk herself!” snapped his mother suddenly.

  Dorian gathered my daughter into his large arms and carried her out. His manner told me that his mother’s words had stung his pride, but he wouldn’t argue with her. Dorian’s father, Gram, had been very strict about obedience and respect in their family.

  After he had gone, Elise sighed. “Honestly, he’s just like his father, a good man, but his mind follows a very direct course.” She paused then, as if to see if I would prompt her, but I waited silently for her to begin again. “You are right. While I did learn some rudimentary lessons from my mother she is not the one who taught me most of what I know on the subject.”

  I nodded.

  Whatever she had to say was obviously painful, that was easy enough to see from her expression as she continued, “When I was fourteen my parents sent me to study at the church in Albamarl. I was born to a low ranking knight in the service of Duke Tremo
nt. I was the youngest of three children and since my father couldn’t afford to provide a good dowry, for me they decided I should seek my vocation in the service of the Lady of the Evening Star.”

  “What my parents did not know, but which you have probably realized, through your dealings with Father Tonnsdale, is that the Church of Millicenth specialized in a number of secret and illegal practices. Though at the time I was hardly more than a child, I shudder now to remember some of the shameful things I was taught to do then.”

  Father Tonnsdale was the priest of Millicenth who had poisoned my parents and nearly poisoned the Lancaster family years ago, shortly after I had first discovered my abilities. He was also, as she had surmised, the first clue that had led me to wonder about her knowledge of poisons. “It isn’t my place to judge your past, Elise,” I reassured her, “You were always kind to me, almost a second mother, but life has taught me a number of hard lessons as well. I simply want to learn as much as I can.”

  Her eyes held mine for a moment, and then she forged ahead, “Initially I was given mostly drudge work, along with the standard classes they put most of the girls in, but as time passed, and my body filled out, I was sent to work in the brothels. My instructors also noticed my excellent memory and aptitude for learning, so I was given more advanced instruction in healing as well as herbal lore.”

  The look on my face was probably incredulous, despite my attempts to keep my features smooth. Dorian’s mother was a prostitute!?

  Elise looked downward, “There’s no need to make that face, Mordecai. I’m sure you never expected to learn that Gram Thornbear’s widow was a paid pleasure girl, but the facts are rarely what we would wish them to be. At the time, I was not proud of my work, though I did at times take some pleasure in it myself. I will not lie about that. It was distasteful, but it was not entirely as terrible as some may think. I was well-fed, and my treatment as a prostitute was many times better than as a common drudge for the church.”

  It was probably a toss-up to decide who was more embarrassed at the revelation of her prior work as a lady of the evening. In fact, looking upon the term, I began to realize that perhaps that was why they were called ‘ladies of the evening’, though I had never realized that the church venerating the ‘Lady of the Evening Star’ had operated brothels. It was yet another glaring reminder that I was more naïve than I thought I was. Marcus would probably laugh to know that I hadn’t been aware of the reason they were called ladies of the evening.

  Elise watched my face carefully, “You seem deep in thought. Does it shock you to learn of my shameful past?”

  I almost stumbled over my words, as I struggled to correct her misimpression, “No! Uh, well a bit, yes. But truly, my biggest shock was learning that the church dabbled in prostitution.”

  “So you’re saying you always expected I had been a wanton?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, of course not!” I said immediately, but I was wise enough to know she was merely teasing me now, probably to ease her own tension at revealing such a shocking secret. I turned the tables on her by responding with complete sincerity, “Elise, I have always held you in high regard. I never knew your past, but the woman that raised Dorian, that loved Gram, and that looked kindly upon me as a common child playing amongst his betters, that woman is still in front of me. Nothing in what you have told me so far has changed that in the slightest.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but just as Rose would have, she looked away to hide her face, “You speak well, Mordecai, but wait until I have finished my tale before you grant me such kindness. Your opinion may change.”

  I started to protest, but she held up her hand. “Let me continue,” she said. “In spite of your ignorance, which probably speaks well of you, it is common knowledge that many of the brothels, particularly in Albamarl, are operated by the Church of Millicenth, or rather they were. Your ban upon the churches in the capital has probably had some effect there. I would be surprised if they did not still have some interest in the remaining brothels still operating in the capital.”

  “But why?” I interjected, “I gave up my illusions about the righteous nature of the religions of the shining gods years ago, but it seems to me that prostitution runs counter to their ‘public’ image. Why would the church deliberately tarnish its image in such a way?”

  “Your illusion was based upon childhood teachings. I assure you, adult society always knew and accepted their other ‘doings’. The brothels were considered, at least publicly, to be a service to the suffering of unmarried or unhappy men. Privately, they were centers for gathering information. The pillow talk collected by the whores in those dens of pleasure was carefully sifted and refined, for use by the church elders. That information was a resource more valuable than gold, and it could be used to control and maneuver, to blackmail and inform.”

  “By the time I was sixteen, I was one of the more accomplished and sought after whores in service to the church, but my talents extended far beyond the simple pleasures of the body. It had been determined that I had the wit and talent necessary to be taught additional skills. I was trained in the hidden secrets of the church. They taught me the art of gathering information, the techniques of assassination, and the lore of poisons. The devotees of the Lady had been studying the poisoner’s arts since their inception before the Sundering, and I was perhaps their most able student.”

  She had finally reached the heart of what I had suspected, though I still wasn’t comfortable with the way she had said ‘assassination’. “How did…” I said slowly, letting my words trail off.

  “How did I wind up with Dorian’s father?” she said with a laugh, “That part is simple enough, I was assigned first to gather information from him, and later I was tasked with his assassination.”

  My head was swimming already from the alcohol, so I doubted my ears for a moment, “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me,” she said, before repeating herself, “I was tasked with assassinating Gram Thornbear.”

  At some point my mouth had fallen open. Once I noticed, I closed it quickly, my teeth clicking audibly.

  Elise smiled, “Andrew Tremont, the Duke, wanted a spy in the Lancaster household. He paid the church a large sum to acquire such a person, and since my superiors knew already of Gram’s patronage at the brothel, I was the obvious choice.”

  “His patronage?”

  “Gram was more worldly than our son. As a young man, he came to the place that I worked, and I caught his eye right away. He had been seeing me regularly for several months before the request came for me to try and use him to the Duke’s advantage,” she explained quietly.

  “So they wanted you to shpy on him?” I said, slurring a bit despite myself.

  “I had already used him for information. They wanted something more involved. I was supposed to compromise his integrity, force him into situations that would cause him to commit small deceits; things that would seem harmless but which he would know ran counter to his lord’s wishes. In general, the method involves requesting small favors that, over time put him at a serious disadvantage. Eventually, the agent will drop the charade and threaten to expose their target. At that point, the relationship becomes an ugly one of cold blackmail and exploitation, essentially forcing the target into the service of whoever is paying the agent,” she explained.

  “Sho how did it go from that to ashashination?” I cringed inwardly at my pronunciation, but I knew there was no hope for it; the alcohol had permeated my brain, and even now I was growing more numb.

  She sighed, “The problem arose when he refused my requests. He was infuriatingly unaccommodating when it came to my little ‘favors’. He steadfastly refused to do anything that went against Lancaster’s wishes. The whole thing was exasperating, and was made even more so by the fact that he always brought me flowers.”

  “Flowersh?”

  “The first time he came to see me, he brought daisies,” she said with a faint smile. “Almost no one brings flower
s to a whore, although it isn’t unheard of, but he brought them every time he came. Make no mistake, he knew what his coin was purchasing, and he made good on his claim, but he always behaved as though he were courting me. For a girl who had been raised as gentry, then turned into a prostitute, it was a bittersweet thing. It reminded me of my life before, of my hopes and dreams for a normal life.”

  “After a few months, I began to grow angry. I was sure he had played me for a fool. He had to have guessed at my game by then, he had already refused so many of my requests. Yet he continued to bring flowers; wildflowers, lilacs, gardenias, roses, whatever he could find, whatever was in season. Even worse, he paid double whatever I asked, always saying, ‘this is for you, and this is for whoever claims your fee later’. He knew they took most of what we earned, so he paid twice, so I could keep it and give the mistress her share as well. I couldn’t understand him, or what his motivations were, and it drove me mad.”

  As she spoke, I could almost see Dorian doing something similar, if he had ever been so bold as to frequent such a place. Clearly his father had been a hopeless romantic as well, though he had obviously been very earthly in his desires.

  Lady Thornbear went on, “My masters were growing impatient with my lack of progress, so at last I decided to try something more direct. During his next visit I admitted my duplicity and threatened to reveal his secret visits to the brothel. While that wouldn’t have been much of a scandal, I had convinced myself that his rigorous sense of honor must be based on pride, a pride that would not bear to see itself shamed. I was sure that rather than taint his name even slightly, he would turn traitor.”

  I laughed, “You really didn’t undershtand him at all did you?”

  She shook her head ruefully, “No, I did not. You must understand, at that time my own soul had been so blackened by my circumstances and my actions that I truly could not believe anyone would act unselfishly. The shadow in my heart had convinced me that his honor was just a sham, something one puts on like a coat when you go outdoors.”