Needle Ash Book 1: Knives of Darkness

by David V. Stewart

  The king chuckled. “He would, if I said so, for I am his king, and we would still gain a kingdom. As consort he would have the real power anyway, being a man and a military leader.” He looked to Johan. “Sounds interesting, eh?”

  “Most definitely.”

  “What about Julia?” Michael said.

  “Michael,” Johan said merrily. “Julia and her father would understand. There would still be one prince to marry her to anyway!”

  “What?” Michael said again he felt his face prickle with sweat at the thought of Julia.

  “I think he’s gone deaf, father,” Johan said with a chuckle.

  "Good. Maybe he'll go mute as well," the king said. "I'm kidding, my boy. This is a good lesson in negotiation, which you must learn, if you can keep yourself under control enough to learn it. By letting the queen know, accidentally, I might add, that Johan was engaged, we enhanced his value. We can make a show of letting him go, demand some more territory or gold, and we either get more than we originally thought possible, or we persuade her to marry you instead, since you’re cheaper.”

  “Marry me?”

  “I think it would be great for you, actually,” Johan said. “She would lay that temper of yours low.”

  “Oh, I do look forward to tomorrow,” the king said. “Shall I arrange a meeting with the queen, just for you, Johan?”

  “Not a bad idea,” Johan said. “Yes, let’s do it. We can have Michael unexpectedly drop in.”

  “I won’t do it,” Michael said.

  “I am your king and you will obey me,” the king said. The turned as they got closer to the camp, toward where the king’s tent stood. “Where is that layabout Towler? We were lucky that we didn’t need him.”

  “You were lucky he wasn’t there,” Michael said. “I have reason to believe he is a traitor, and betrayed us at the last battle.”

  “Not this foolishness,” Johan said. “First I hear it from your officers after you left - I had to discharge fully half of those in command - and now you’re repeating it. There is no traitor in our house.”

  “Did you have something to do with Towler not showing up?” the king said. “Did you?”

  “No,” Michael said. “I came to… to deal with him if he did show up.”

  “I say again we were lucky,” Johan said. “Alanrae dealt in real faith.”

  “I don’t understand,” Michael said.

  “Of course not,” said the king. “Alanrae is a mage, or have you not heard? We needed Towler there in case she tried to burn us to bits. He would have countered it and protected us. And he's no traitor. I trust him with my life. In fact, I havehave.”

  “It is good that you do not have to,” Michael said.

  “Enough,” Eduardo said. “Now head back to your own station. You’re a civilian and I don’t want you fraternizing with my army.”

  *

  “I’d say Towler was positively jinxed, if we hadn’t been the ones jinxing him,” Guissali said, stirring the pot of stew over the magical blue fire. “He must have burned down half the camp in a fit of rage.”

  Michael blew out a smoke ring as he reclined against his saddle. “Well, the negotiations went well enough, but of course with the traitor absent, and no opportunity to expose the treason, my father is as confident as ever in the stalwart loyalty of his mage-general.”

  “Well, that’s to be expected,” Angelico said. He was sitting on a rock near the fire, running a whetstone along his spear blade, trying to catch it in the firelight. “At least until we can actually present evidence.”

  “The battle ought to have been evidence enough,” Palsay said. He sat cross-legged beside Doboro. “But he sure did steam when I dropped that tent on him.”

  “Your father likely wants something more concrete than circumstantial evidence, sir,” Angelico said. “If we could find a letter, or at least a legitimate witness to his treachery, we could make a case.”

  “Logically, Angelico, it has to be him,” Michael said.

  “Not everyone acts logically, my lord,” Guissali said. “Or have you never seen a man in love?”

  “Not you too, Gui,” Michael said.

  “Just trying to provide adequate counsel in addition to a hot meal, my lord,” Guissali said.

  “What think you, Sharona?” Michael said. “You’ve been quiet over there.”

  Sharona’s back was to the fire, her eyes on the city. She smoked slowly the pipe Michael had given her. “I don’t think out loud, unlike some people.”

  “Come on,” Michael said.

  “I shouldn’t have left your side,” she said, standing up and brushing herself off. She came and plopped down by the fire. “I should have thought about Alanrae being a mage. Had I been with you, I could have disrupted her magic.”

  “She didn’t use any magic,” Michael said.

  “Are you sure? There are many kinds of magic, Michael, and not all of them are visible and apparent to an untrained observer. She could have turned your water to poison, or…”

  “But she didn’t do that,” Michael said.

  “Or caused you to go mad, or see things that weren’t there. I almost failed my purpose with my…”

  “With what?”

  “By doing what you wanted me to do, rather than what you needed me to do,” Sharona said with a sigh.

  “That’s a woman speaking if I’ve ever heard one,” Guissali said with a chuckle. “And sire, don’t you go thinking that’s always a bad thing. If my wife had baked me pies and cakes, like I’d wanted, why, I’d be too fat to breathe now.”

  “Instead of merely too fat to fight?” Angelico said, winking at Guissali.

  “You want a go, pretty boy?” Guissali said. “Yours wouldn’t be the first face I’ve rearranged.”

  “Easy,” Angelico said. “I was just teasing you.”

  "I know. Otherwise, I'd have already stomped you into the ground," Guissali said, dishing out some of the stew into a bowl and handing it to Sharona.

  “You serving her instead of the prince first? No wonder you’re still stuck on guard duty,” Doboro said gruffly.

  “Ladies always get served first, you cur,” Guissali said. He dished out another bowl and handed it to Michael.

  “Finally, someone with some sense of manners,” Sharona said.

  “Manners?” Angelico said, sitting up. “He called Doboro a cur and threatened to stomp my face in.”

  “Well, he didn’t stomp your face in, did he? And you deserved it, calling him fat.”

  Angelico waved his hand in front of his face, as if shooing a fly. “So sir, what were the results of the negotiations so far?”

  “They proceeded extremely quickly,” Michael said. “Almost as if the deal was already worked out ahead of time. In fact, the queen wrote the details down of where we arrived while my father was still making his first set of demands."

  “And you doubt magic was at play?” Sharona said.

  “I’m sure it was just experienced political playing,” Michael said. “We demanded loads of gold. They didn’t have loads of gold, hence why their debt to us hasn’t been serviced, so Artalland gets some territory instead. The odd thing, though…” Michael took a puff of his pipe and shook his head. “Probably nothing.”

  “What?” Angelico said.

  Michael cocked his head. “She demanded as a peace assurance a spouse from our household for her and for one of her cousins.”

  “Really?” Angelico said. “Odd.”

  “That’s not odd. Been done loads of times,” Guissali said. “King wins a war and gets the princess for his wife or his son’s wife. That way you conquer the kingdom, in a way, through blood. Most of the royal families of the Divine strand are quite related at this point.”

  “Yes, but have you heard of the losing side getting a man as a spouse?” Michael said.

  Guissali chuckled. “Well, they have got a queen. Natural to reverse the roles, I suppose.”

  Angelico snapped his fingers. “Wait, did
they mean the royal household proper, not just an extended relation? Are they going to marry you off, sir?”

  “Possibly,” Michael said. “The queen seemed much more interested in Johan, to be honest. But he’s already engaged to Lady Julia.”

  “Engagements aren’t marriage, sir,” Angelico said.

  “She said the same thing,” Michael said. “I think they’ll have a chaperoned meeting, just the two of them, tomorrow.”

  “That’ll be two things to keep Towler away from,” Angelico said. He laughed. “Ah, but we might be celebrating a marriage of my esteemed commander to no less than a queen.”

  “Was she pretty?” Guissali said.

  Michael smiled. “She was gorgeous, Gui. Everything a young queen ought to be, and more. The stories don’t do her justice.”

  Angelico laughed. “What happens if your brother marries her? How will that work?”

  “I’ll become king,” Michael said.

  “So all and all, the day worked out quite well, eh sir?” Angelico said.

  “Yes, but tomorrow will reveal the finality of that,” Michael said. He looked around. “Where did Sharona go?”

  “Must have gone off to relieve young Langelo,” Guissali said. “Funny after that talk about not leaving you be.”

  “Let’s enjoy it,” Angelico said. “I appreciate her skills, but… ah, you understand, don’t you sir?”

  Michael frowned for a moment, thinking of what the mage had said. “I do.”

  “Women be fickle, sire,” Guissali said. “Mighty fickle. And you had best mind that one. Her eyes linger my friend, and she’s already got your confidence.”

  “Pah!” Michael said. “Not Sharona.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  *

  "Where did you find this woman?" Michael whispered. He was kneeling in the mud behind a pile of straw, with two mares casually chewing bits of it, obscuring the view of the mess as they walked back and forth. Between the legs of the wandering equines, he caught solid views of a beautiful young woman with bright blonde hair and the pale skin of the Petty Kingdoms as she sat at a table, working with apparent frustration at a puzzlebox. Her dress was perfectly tailored to her slim frame, and had frills of lace and embroidery that spoke to at least a daughter of the bourgeoisie.

  “Among the camp followers,” Angelico said. “Apparently a favorite of a few officers, though of course none of them seemed to know she was… involved with the others.”

  “Interesting. She doesn’t look much like a prostitute. Far too well-dressed. Far too pretty, and mannered. Innocent, even.”

  “That’s the poison there, sir.”

  “She’s not really selling herself,” Sharona said.

  “The men seem to think she isn’t, but their empty purses disagree,” Angelico said.

  “Oh, she’ll take their money, but she’s not selling her body, really,” Sharona said flatly. “She sells a man the idea that she finds him interesting and attractive.”

  They watched as Towler, looking grumpier than the previous day (if that was possible), walked past the young woman and toward the cook. After being delivered a bowl, he turned around and began walking, blowing the steam off of his meal.

  They all watched as a stick appeared from under a table and tripped Towler, sending his meal flying into the air and creating a shower of broth and meat - much of which landed on the young woman. Cursing, Towler rolled over, clearly ready to smite whoever had tripped him, but paused as the blonde woman bent over him, rubbing his head and trying to help him up. Within moments the woman had sat him down on a nearby bench and worked with a towel at drying him off.

  “Oy, he’s even smiling,” Angelico whispered.

  “What did I tell you?” Sharona said.

  “Let’s see if we can sneak off to his tent,” Michael said.

  Sharona nodded and followed him down the dusty lane.

  Sharona lit the interior of Towler’s tent with a magic fire of blue inside the mage's lamp, which hung from a stand secured by the center pole. It was a messily arranged thing, full of strange objects and even a full-size bed, the luxury of which only a prince or a king were likely to also enjoy. Hurriedly, they went through the mage's effects. Letters were scattered all over a portable secretaire, but quick scans indicated nothing odd at play. His inkwell was dry, having been left open, and he had apparently written nothing in some time.

  "Over here, a chest," Michael said, pushing some papers off a low wood box to get a closer look. Sharona followed him over.

  “I didn’t figure he’d have something this mundane,” she said. She ran her hands over the top of it, then stood up. “Stand back.”

  Michael nodded and stood up. With a flick of her hand, the top of the chest burst apart. Flaming bits of wood flew everywhere. Little flames hopped up here and there on letters and carpets. Michael hurriedly tried to stamp these out, while Sharona threw open the chest to examine the contents.

  “Dreamer!” She said, coughing. “He’s planted a skunk smell in here, or something like it. There’s nothing inside but dead beetles.”

  “Rats,” Michael said, waving the smoke from his face.

  “No, beetles!” Sharona said in a high voice. “Filthy little crawlies. Luckily, it looks like I killed them all.”

  “Nevermind. Wait! What is that?”

  Sharona froze for a moment and listened. She heard the voice of Towler, laughing along with a female voice, getting louder and nearer.

  “What do we do?” Michael said.

  “Stand still. Right there,” Sharona said. She held her hands forward, her fingers pointing at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and began mumbling something. She turned in a circle. With a rush of air, the bits of battered chest and the letters on top of it flew back into the position they were just in. With a snap, Sharona extinguished the light.

  Wide-eyed, Michael pointed to the bed. Sharona nodded and dove under, followed by Michael, who had to squeeze close against her to fit under the bed and keep his boots from sticking out. Just then, the tent flap rose and Towler entered, followed by a woman with a shapely pair of ankles and simple shoes.

  “What a whore,” Sharona whispered.

  “I’ll say,” Michael whispered back, just as the mattress began to sag.

  Chapter 7: Knives of Darkness

  Sharona pushed herself closer to Michael as the center of the mattress sagged on its tired ropes, threatening to smother her. She pressed her body against his, and Michael could feel her shaking. Their faces were so close that Michael could only see her as a dark blur; her jagged breath filled his ears, vocalizing very slightly in the swift cadence. Michael was pulled out of contemplating this sudden intimacy as the muffled sounds of passion began to pulse through the moving mattress, and he had to give out a whispered groan.

  Sharona breathed hotly in Michael’s ear, “This is what you intended, was it not?”

  “I didn’t expect... it to go so quickly,” Michael breathed back. He could feel her warmth just past his lips.

  “She’s apparently very good at her work.”

  “I don’t want to make that judgment.”

  Sharona pulled one of her hands forward of her face, pointing underneath the secretaire. Michael followed it. Secreted under the folding chair was a small, featureless box, made of a substance that looked like paper.

  “A wizard’s box,” Sharona said.

  “Can we reach it?” Michael said.

  “If we wait till these two leave.”

  “That won’t happen anytime soon.”

  Sharona scowled. “Should have looked for something like this earlier. Maybe I can reach-” She scooted herself forward, trying to inch toward the underside of the secretaire.

  A dress fell on Sharona, covering her arm and face. Carefully, she slipped back under the bed, leaving the dress where it was. More clothes fell down into the pile. A minute or so later, the sounds above shifted to a more heated rhythm. Two pale, hairy legs dropped in fron
t of Michael’s face.

  Sharona reached and touched Michael’s face, pointing it the opposite way. Michael nodded and they pushed themselves backward, out of the underside of the bed. When their heads exited the dank underside of the mage’s bed, the sounds of passion, both sincere and false, became uncomfortably clear. Not daring to sit up, Michael and Sharona crawled to the edge of the tent and felt for a loose place. Michael glanced back and saw the woman’s blonde hair shaking as Towler moaned and shouted.

  The high mage’s face was concealed, and he gave no indication he detected them. Sharona gestured to Michael, and he wriggled over the dirt and edge of the carpet, under the flap, and into the midday sun. Sharona soon appeared beside him, dusting off her dress.

  “That was close,” Michael said softly. “Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed her hand and led her away, down a row of tents and away from the hill that housed most of the high commanders.

  “Certainly closer than I prefer to be,” Sharona said. “To the fornication, I mean.”

  “Yes, I-I agree,” Michael stammered. “What was that little paper box?”

  “A wizard’s box,” Sharona said breathlessly. “It’s an elvish device, used to house secrets. It’s easily destroyed, and when it breaks, everything inside breaks as well. It’s a tricky thing, but I’ve seen it before.”

  “You think we would find evidence inside?”

  “You assume there is any to find,” Sharona said. “It could be full of old love letters. But it also might prove very difficult to break into the box.”

  “Why? It’s made of paper.”

  “Please listen, Michael. If the box destroyed, so will its contents be. The box is made of paper that Towler has linked to paper within. Just like me breaking a bone. Maybe if we retrieved it, I could break the links within… but maybe not. And if he notices it gone, he may decide it should burst into flame.”

  “I’ll be damned if it doesn’t pique my curiosity,” Michael said. “Almost to the point where I’d let Towler follow Johan around, just to get in there and have a peek.”

  “Is that what he was supposed to be doing?”