Wrath of Lions

by David Dalglish

  Romeo, the elder brother, tilted his head in a curious manner. “Why are your weapons drawn, Matthew? Do you wish to murder us?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And to aid you in this endeavor,” said Cleo, the younger, “you bring a man with a wounded arm and a pretty lass with a sword. Forgive me if I am not impressed with your…um, army.”

  “We only brought what you told us to,” Matthew shot back.

  Romeo stepped forward, holding his hands out in supplication.

  “Come now, Matthew,” he said. “Let us not be rash. You were summoned here in good faith.”

  “Good faith,” Matthew growled. “Promises of food for a city in dire need of it. And you use that to try to kill me on the road.”

  The brothers exchanged a look.

  “That explains the blood,” Cleo said, shrugging.

  Romeo approached him. “May I?” he said, lifting his frock to show he was unarmed. “Matthew, please think on what you say. If we wished to kill you, why wouldn’t we make the attempt now, when you are surrounded by dozens of our armed men? Honestly, if you believe we are behind the attempt on your life, I’m stunned that you would come here. Of course,” he snickered, “you did bring protection.”

  “If not you, then who?” asked Moira, joining Matthew at his side.

  Cleo’s smile grew all the wider—and more sickening.

  “Could it be?” he asked. “Is this the lost Crestwell? We thought you had perished back in the delta. My dear Moira, you look absolutely ravishing. That hair color is quite fetching on you.”

  “Yes,” added Romeo. “The Crestwell silver is…unsavory. Too shiny, too straight, too unseemly for a person of dignity.” He ran a hand over his own waxed and powdered head. “Hence our own decision to remain bald.”

  “Dignity?” scoffed Moira. “What would you know of that word?”

  “Not much, it is true,” said Cleo. “But you cannot censure us for trying.”

  Matthew threw his hands up. “Enough of this!” he said. “Answer the question. If you did not try to kill me, then who did?”

  Romeo’s expression darkened. “I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. Affairs in this city are your business, Matthew. Perhaps you should tighten security and keep a more zealous eye on those closest to you. To cast blame on us is an insult.”

  “Don’t feign indignation, Romeo. You’ve attempted to kill and discredit me before.”

  “That is true,” said Cleo with a sigh. “We certainly have had our differences, but the world has changed.”

  Matthew gritted his teeth. “How so?”

  The brothers exchanged a glance, then Romeo stepped back, pushing aside the curtain from which they’d appeared. “I think some things are best discussed in private. If you would…”

  Cleo stepped through the curtain. Matthew hesitated for a moment, then looked at his companions. His bodyguard shrugged, mouth dipping into a frown, while Moira scowled. All Matthew felt was confusion.

  “Very well,” he said, and waved his two protectors onward.

  Romeo held out a hand, halting him. “I said private. You and you alone.”

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them.”

  “Is that so?” He peered at Bren. “Our long-lost Crestwell I can trust, but what of the brute? Is he faithful?”

  “He pays me well to be,” answered Bren.

  “It’s none of your business, but he is,” Matthew said.

  “It is my business, Matthew.” Romeo sighed. “However, it seems you are intent on being stubborn, and I don’t wish for this to go on all night. The three of you can come in.”

  The room behind the curtain had sagging ceilings and stunk of mold. In the past mummers had used this very room to practice their lines, perfecting the illusion they would then present to the theater crowd. The brothers gestured to the round table at the center of the room, and everyone sat down. Matthew was a mess; his blood still pumped from the failed assassination, and he could not come to grips with the fact that the Conningtons had yet to play their hand. At any moment he expected one of them to pull out a crossbow and drive a dart into his chest.

  Romeo and Cleo sat across from them, reapplying powder to their faces as the newcomers watched. Matthew waited, counting his breaths, while Moira spun the handle of her shortsword and Bren nervously rapped his fingers on the table. Blood from the bodyguard’s injured arm dripped to the floor.

  Finally, Romeo put down his compact and lifted his eyes to his guests.

  “I hope you are satisfied with this show of good faith,” he said. “We are in this room unarmed, whereas each of you carries a weapon. If you wished, you could cut us down in seconds…though our men would run you through when they found out. Do you believe now that we did not try to kill you tonight?”

  “We’ll see,” Matthew grumbled. “Talk.”

  “You asked for an explanation, so here it is,” he said. “These are trying times, Matthew. As I said, the world has changed.”

  “Things change all the time,” Matthew said. “Like when you took over your family business.”

  “Such harsh words,” said Cleo with a grimace. “True, but harsh. However, our ascension to power brought about a decade of expansion and profit for both our families, no matter the…er, disagreements between us. This new change, on the other hand, has not been lucrative for those of our ilk. In fact, it could very well mean the end of everything we’ve worked for.”

  Matthew leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. Moira mirrored him.

  “I have a question for you, Matthew,” said Romeo. “In the six months since the attack on Haven, have your profits increased or decreased?”

  “Why?”

  “Humor us.”

  “Of course they’ve lessened,” he replied, rubbing his forehead. “The realm prepares for war. It is to be expected.”

  Cleo smirked. “Ah, Matthew, how very partisan of you. The sacrifices you make in the name of your god are truly admirable.”

  It was impossible to ignore his sarcasm.

  “Yet answer me this,” added Romeo. “Did these ‘sacrifices’ begin after the attack or before our beloved deity returned from his extended sojourn?”

  Matthew thought on it a moment. His frayed nerves began to knit back together, a sense of looming dread taking its place.

  “Before,” he answered. “The conscription has been going on for more than a year.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Cleo, clapping his hands together. “He is beginning to see, Brother! Now tell me this, Matthew; do you love Karak?”

  “Well, yes,” he said, hesitant. “Without him, we would not have all we do.”

  Moira laughed from beside him.

  “Have you ever met Karak?” asked Romeo.

  Matthew shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Of course not. He left Neldar before I was born.”

  “Yet he has since returned, has he not? Has he not come calling on you in this city, which is perhaps the greatest in the realm? When it came time for the war against his brother, did he ever formally request your services?”

  “Of course not. He is a god, and my duty to him is preordained.”

  The brothers glanced at each other and sighed.

  Cleo switched his focus to the lithe woman with the sword. “Tell me, dearest Moira, what does Karak preach to his children? What is the greatest wisdom our loving god bestowed on his flock? You were a member of the First Families. Though your dislike for Karak is plain and you are obviously no longer ageless, surely that wisdom hasn’t left you.”

  “All mankind is free to live their lives as they choose, but they must make their own way, build their own wealth, and claim responsibility for their own actions,” Moira spoke.

  Matthew’s frustration grew with each additional sentence of vague innuendo. He lifted his hand, drawing all eyes to him.

  “What does this have to do with anything?” he asked. “Did you really ask me to come here secretly, to make myself
vulnerable without my full guard, to discuss religion? I thought this was about business.”

  “Directness!” shouted Cleo with glee. “Our lovely Matthew is learning!”

  “Very well,” said Romeo. He took a deep breath and continued: “Despite this talk of Karak and war, my first question to you was the most important. I will give you the honor of peeking inside the thing that matters most to us—our coffers. Since this whole sordid affair began, our well has run dry. The three armories we operate are being overseen by Karak’s young acolytes, and every ounce of steel is being molded into whatever our lovely deity’s army needs. Whereas once the kingdom—not to mention my fellow merchants—paid handsomely for our products, our smiths are now working day and night without pay. Yet we, the captains of industry, must surely receive compensation for all the resources we offer, correct?”

  “Wrong!” said Cleo, picking up where his brother left off. “We who have kept the kingdom running for the last fifty years are left to suffer as our laborers and products are taken from us in the name of war. Our pockets have been emptied, yet our people have needs. Homes are in need of repair, levees are in need of advancement, ships require patching, and many of the people under our care require medicine. These goods are running low.”

  “Are you telling me you have no hidden reserves?” said Matthew with a laugh. “You two don’t strike me as the sort who go unprepared.”

  Romeo nodded. “Our people in Riverrun and Felwood are hardly starving, but with each passing day, the reserves we do have become ever sparser, and since most of our current laborers are womenfolk who have little experience tilling fields or raising the side of a barn, we will not be able to keep up with demand for long.” He grinned. “You know this as well as I, Matthew, for we walked through Port Lancaster on our way here. Your people, your women, are starving in the streets.”

  Matthew grimaced.

  “And it won’t get better, dear Matthew,” said Cleo. “This war has yet to even begin, and look how much it has cost us. Once the fighting starts, who knows how long it will last? One year? Five? Ten? And we, the most capable of all Neldar, will bear the brunt of keeping the people fed and clothed and alive. Karak will take and take until we have no more to give, and then what? When the war is over, and it is time to rebuild our nation, we will be decimated. There will be others who wish to take what we once had, and we will be in no position to stop them. If you think that unrealistic, consider the brigands who are even now running about the country. They already take what they want outside our townships. What happens when they realize we are too weak to defend ourselves?”

  Matthew wrung his hands together. “What you say might be true, is true, but what are we to do about it?”

  A sly grin came over Cleo’s face, but it was Romeo who answered.

  “We must ensure that Karak doesn’t win,” he said.

  Moira laughed aloud as Matthew pushed himself away from the table in shock.

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  “We are resourceful people,” Cleo said with a shrug. “In this time of strife we must set aside our differences and bond together to face a common enemy…who unfortunately happens to be our god. If we do, we just might retain the lives we have built for ourselves when all has been said and done.”

  “Karak will kill us for this blasphemy,” Matthew muttered.

  “Blasphemy? I think not,” said Romeo. “What we propose is directly in line with what Karak preaches. His laws are clear as day. Do not kill without reason. Do not murder the unborn. Do not take what is not yours. Do not defile the temple of worship. Do not turn away from Karak. What we will be doing is adhering to those principles, not breaking them. Yes, he would kill us if he discovered our plans, but it is certainly not blasphemy.”

  “And if anyone has broken those decrees,” Cleo added, “it is Karak himself. He has turned away from his own teachings by stripping us of the freedom he promised. If his temple is his law, then he has defiled it. He is in the wrong, not us.”

  Matthew dropped his head, took a deep breath. “So this is why we meet at night. You two might not have tried to kill me on the way here, but what you ask is little different. To do this, to work against our deity, would mean signing my own death warrant.”

  Romeo shrugged. “Could be. But then, we would be doing the same, would we not? The fewer who know, the better.”

  It seemed so surreal. Matthew couldn’t get over the fear that he was being played, that somewhere in the room was a mystical object sending his every word and action back to his deity. But even though he knew not to trust the Conningtons, their every word made sense. Had he been younger and more devout, he would have left the moment they began their profane tirade, but as a high merchant and unquestioned ruler of Port Lancaster, he owed it to his people see if there were an opportunity here.

  “What is your plan?” he asked.

  “Weapons,” said Romeo.

  “Weapons?”

  Cleo slapped the table. “Yes, weapons. Our cache is empty in that regard. The acolytes load your boats with the steel we forge.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Two seasons ago you purchased a large reserve of weaponry from us to outfit your sellswords,” said Romeo. “Two thousand swords, battle-axes, lances, mauls—you name it.”

  “And?”

  “And I assume you still have them. We need them.”

  This time it was Matthew’s turn to laugh. “You cannot be serious? You want me to arm your populace with weapons you could very well use against me? And free of charge? Ha!”

  “Silly, silly Matthew,” scolded Cleo. “We told you in our letter what our compensation would be. Right at this moment there are sixty carriages filled with grain, vegetables, and salted meats from Omnmount sitting a mile from your city gates, just waiting to hear that the deal is done. And we do not want the steel for us.”

  Sixty carriages of grain, vegetables, and salted meats. That amount of food could support the remaining citizens of Port Lancaster for months. Matthew’s eyes widened.

  “Ah, the deal is looking better, is it not?” asked Romeo.

  He felt lightheaded. “Perhaps. But if the weapons aren’t for you, who are they for?” he asked.

  “We have birdies in our god’s army,” Romeo said. “And those birdies have told us that the one who now holds Karak’s ear is wary of Ashhur’s dark-skinned children in Ker. They are physically superior to the rest, perhaps smarter, and certainly more capable. They have been independent of Paradise for some time now, and word has it that our Lord is bent on invading their lands last. The steel is for them.”

  The deal was becoming more and more tempting for Matthew. Part of him tried to steer away from acceptance, but the logical part of him, the part that believed in the words of the god more than the god himself, began to sway.

  “And you are willing to take this chance?” he asked. “What if Karak discovers us?”

  “The way things are going, we are dead men already,” said Romeo with a shrug. “If our time is about to end, we might as well go out trying to do something to stop it.”

  Matthew sat back, chin cupped in his hand. He was so deep in thought that he barely felt the tug on his blood-stained tunic. He turned to see Moira staring at him, concern in her icy blue eyes.

  “A word?” she asked.

  “Ah, dear Moira wishes to advise her brave Matthew!” exclaimed Cleo.

  Bren rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” the burly man said. “I’m in pain, and I don’t need to listen to your squealing voice.”

  “Calm yourself, Bren,” said Matthew. He stood from his chair, looked at Moira, and then gestured toward the corner. The slender woman rose to join him.

  “What is it?” he asked in a whisper when they were far enough away from the table.

  “I am not sure this is such a good idea,” she replied. “You brought me here to protect you, and right now, this is the best protection I can offer. Turn them down. Walk away from he
re.”

  “I’m surprised at you, Moira.”

  “Why?”

  “You hate Karak more than anybody. I would think you’d be all for their plan.”

  “I hate Karak, but I am not stupid,” she said. “Are you sure you can trust these two?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not.”

  “And yet you’re seriously considering working with them.”

  “Strife makes for strange bedfellows. And besides, everything they’ve said makes sense. It’s not as if I haven’t had these very thoughts before tonight, and while I can’t trust them, I can trust their goods. Who am I to turn them away if they can feed this city? What is a cache of weapons worth when your people are dying in the streets from starvation?”

  “You intend to accept.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I hope you’re not being an imbecile.”

  He went to grab her shoulder, but she eluded his grasp.

  “You don’t know me,” he said, anger churning in his gut. “Remember, you’re my property from now until Peytr pays me back. Disrespect me again, and I’ll have you cleaning the privy nightly.”

  With that he swiveled on his heels and marched back toward the brothers. He bit his lip, half expecting a shortsword to plunge through his back and out his sternum. Peering over his shoulder, he met Moira’s cold stare and thanked the gods his harsh words hadn’t been met with a harsh reaction.

  Stupid, Matthew. Stupid.

  Romeo and Cleo both rose from their seats as he approached. Bren just stared at him, looking pale from blood loss. Romeo stepped around the table.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked. Amazingly enough, the fat man seemed nervous.

  “We have a deal,” he answered, and stuck out his hand.

  Cleo began clapping in that queer fashion of his while they shook.

  “My only question,” said Matthew, “is how I am supposed to get the goods to the people they’re meant for?”

  “Fear not,” Romeo said. “We have that covered. On the last night of spring, we shall send a boat to retrieve them. Until then, enjoy the goods we have given you, which is another great show of trust on our part.” He jutted his chin at Bren. “But do not betray us, Matthew, for I’m certain your brute will do little to defend you should we send our master of arms, Quester the Crimson Sword, to collect on your debt.”