01 - The Tainted Sword

by D. J. Heinrich - (ebook by Undead)

  Flinn’s attention returned to the trial at hand. The council members had split into two factions—those who said that Brisbois had been under the malevolent influence of the dragon all along, and those who believed he had willingly bartered with the wyrm. The debate was growing heated. Flinn had said next to nothing in the council, letting the factions wrestle the issue of Brisbois’ guilt. He personally thought Brisbois had willingly sided with Verdilith, but that was a matter for the council to decide.

  Flinn turned and looked at Johauna beside him and smiled. She was quiet and, he guessed, a little overwhelmed by all the proceedings. But she was as composed as always; he feared no discredit from her. This closed council session would be a good introduction to the less-glorified aspect of knighthood: political duty. Although protocol stated that no one who was less than the rank of knight could attend a closed council, Flinn had insisted on Jo’s behalf, stating that her future was at stake, too. The baroness had graciously given her consent.

  “Sir Flinn,” Arteris said loudly, breaking Flinn’s train of thought, “what say you? This man has defiled your honor, and we may debate the whys of that forever. Although Penhaligon has suffered a blow to its good name, it is you who have suffered most at the hands of this knave. The decision is yours. I repeat, what say you?”

  Flinn looked at the baroness, then shifted his gaze to Brisbois. The man sat in the center of the room before the council; he was stiff-backed and unmoving. Brisbois’ gaze reluctantly shifted from the baroness to Flinn.

  “Sir Brisbois,” Flinn began, deliberately using the man’s tide, “your honor and reputation as a knight are at stake. You must know that for your disreputable actions you are likely to be dismissed as a knight in the Order of the Three Suns.” Flinn paused for effect. “I am personally in favor of that, but I would like to know the reasons behind your actions.” Brisbois continued to look at Flinn. “I do not defend myself, Sir Flinn,” he said coldly. “I believed Lord Maldrake was my friend, and for him I would do anything—include besmirch your honor. Maldrake told me that Lady Yvaughan was in love with him and that he needed my help in securing a divorce. Accusing you of dishonor on the battlefield and stripping you of your rank as a knight was an easy matter.” “What made you confess your guilt?” Flinn asked equally coldly. “Why today? Why not years before? Or have you developed a conscience after all this time?”

  Brisbois flinched, but maintained eye contact. “No. I don’t have a conscience. I admitted my guilt and accused Lord Maldrake of his influence on you to get revenge. The man was betraying me—”

  “The dragon, you mean,” Flinn interjected.

  “I mean the man. I never knew until today that Maldrake was, in fact, Verdilith. I had been led to believe that the mage Teryl Auroch was the dragon,” Brisbois stated. “I betrayed Maldrake’s trust in me because I was afraid he and Auroch were setting me up to take the blame for whatever Maldrake had planned for you.”

  “Would you have continued to act on Maldrake’s behalf had you known he was the vile wyrm?” Arteris asked. The council members stared at Brisbois.

  For the first time, Brisbois faltered. He looked down at the marbled floor and said, “As long as Lord Maldrake’s interests paralleled mine, it… it would have made no difference to me had I known he was the dragon.”

  “Is it possible, man, that you are still enchanted by the dragon?” Sir Graybow asked.

  At that, Brisbois’ head jerked up, and he glared at the castellan. “I am not now enchanted by the dragon, nor have I ever been enchanted by it. I am a free-willed man, perhaps more so than any of you here. Everything I did, I have done willingly and knowingly.”

  “Does honor and justice mean nothing to you, Sir Brisbois?” Flinn asked quickly.

  Spittle came to the man’s lips, but Brisbois quickly wiped it away. “We can’t all be knights of renown like you, Sir Flinn. Some of us think your quest to attain all four points of the Quadrivial is amusing.” He clenched his hands on his knees and added, “I think it’s pitiable.”

  Silence fell in the room, and all eyes were on the unrepentant knight. “Sir Brisbois,” the baroness began heavily, “it saddens me to hear you say those words. As such, I have no choice but to—”

  Flinn stood suddenly. “Your Ladyship,” he bowed in the direction of the baroness in apology for interrupting her, “I have something I would like to say—in defense of Sir Brisbois.”

  “In defense?” the baroness repeated shrilly. Several others in the room echoed her sentiment, including Jo and Sir Graybow.

  Flinn held up his hand and turned to Brisbois, holding the knight’s eyes with the intensity of his gaze. “It’s true that I returned to the Castle of the Three Suns with the intent to avenge myself on you. I wanted to have you dismissed as a knight, much as I had been. But—” Flinn rubbed his chin, the stubble of a beard itching him. “—stripping away one’s rank as a knight would mean nothing to a man like you. I suggest you be censured in other, more appropriate, ways.”

  “You are saying that I not be dismissed from the order?” Brisbois demanded.

  “I am,” Flinn nodded. Brisbois put his head in his hands. Flinn turned to the baroness and the council. “That is, of course, if the council has no objections.”

  The baroness sat back in her chair and looked at Sir Graybow. The castellan nodded curtly to the baroness and then stood. Flinn took his seat.

  “We haven’t objections, Sir Flinn,” Graybow began, “so much as concerns. Your … desire to show leniency to Sir Brisbois is commendable, to say the least. I doubt that any other knight here would be quite so willing to do the same.” The castellan gestured to either side of the table. “But there are other issues to consider here, such as our faith in this man. If he were to remain a knight, how should we trust him? How can we put our faith in a man who—by his own admission—holds honor so cheaply?” The old knight sighed. “You have spoken on behalf of this man, Sir Flinn. What do you propose the council should do with him?” Graybow sat down.

  Flinn stood slowly. “I ask that the council retain Sir Brisbois’ stature as knight, but that he be censured by serving as my footman for one year.”

  Brisbois jumped to his feet. “Your footman? You mean your lackey! You—” The guards pushed him into the chair, and one placed a warning grip on his shoulder to quiet him.

  “Am I to understand, Sir Flinn,” the baroness asked gravely, “that you believe such service would be punishment enough for all that this man has done to you?”

  Flinn bowed low. “I do, Your Ladyship. Sir Brisbois is a skilled and talented knight, but he needs to learn… manners. I intend to teach him that.” The warrior paused and then added, “And I intend to teach him proper respect for the Quadrivial.” Flinn gestured to Jo, who nodded at the baroness when Arteris’ eyes flickered to the young woman. “My companion, Johauna Menhir, saw the remnant of honor and courage in me when I was a—a self-centered hermit. She taught me the importance of following the Path of Righteousness, no matter how far one has strayed from it. I would like to teach Sir Brisbois that same truth.” Flinn took his seat.

  The baroness scanned the council members’ faces. They each shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders in abstention. She turned back to Flinn. “I have nothing further to say. As of this day, Sir Flinn, he is yours.”

  “Your Ladyship!” Brisbois protested again, though this time he remained seated. “This—this is slavery! This is—”

  “It is bondage, Sir Brisbois, not slavery. For the next year you are a bondsman to Sir Flinn,” Arteris said sternly. She pointed a sharp finger at Brisbois. “And know you this: if you break that bond in any way, do not return to the Castle of the Three Suns. I will have no truck with a man who would bring dishonor on himself twice. Is that understood, Sir Brisbois?” Arteris’ voice was icy with disdain. Brisbois pursed his lips and refused to answer. “Is that understood?” the baroness reiterated, sharply.

  Brisbois’ eyes flashed, then he nodded and replied curt
ly, “Understood, Your Ladyship. For one year I shall be Sir Flinn’s bondsman, and I shall obey his every command.” He gestured to the two guards. “Are these necessary anymore?”

  Arteris glanced at Flinn, who shook his head. She said, “Guards, you may leave. And you, Sir Brisbois, may take your post behind Sir Flinn.” The chastised knight stood slowly and then walked stiffly into position behind his new master. Flinn ignored him.

  The baroness spoke directly to Flinn. “You have sought justice today, Sir Flinn, to right an old wrong. Certainly you have righted that wrong and will gain that justice in the year to come from Sir Brisbois. But he is not the true culprit, as you well know.”

  Flinn nodded and stood. “I do, Your Ladyship. I now see that Verdilith engineered my downfall from the very beginning. He transformed himself into Lord Maldrake and entered the estates of Penhaligon, fooling all.” Flinn was glad to see several of the council members bow their heads at his mild rebuke. “He used his enchantments on my wife, deceiving her into believing that she loved Lord Maldrake. Then he convinced Sir Brisbois to falsely accuse me. At the open council today he… killed my former wife.” Flinn sat down.

  “What do you intend to do, Sir Flinn?” Arteris asked. “Or are you content with Sir Brisbois’ bondage as the extent of your vengeance?”

  “No, Your Ladyship, I am not,” Flinn said forcefully. “I intend to hunt the dragon until he is dead, and I shall set out tomorrow for just that purpose.”

  Arteris nodded. “Good Sir Flinn, I had hoped you would say as much. We shall gather together a number of our best knights—”

  “I beg pardon, Your Ladyship,” Flinn stood and interrupted the baroness again. It was his second such transgression, and several of the council members scowled at him. Sir Graybow shook his head warningly. “Your Ladyship,” Flinn said slowly, thinking fast, “I must admit it has been a long time since I have been at court, and I apologize for my less-than-courtly ways.” The baroness stared at him coolly and then formally nodded. Flinn continued, “I intend no disrespect, Your Ladyship, but I will be hunting the dragon on my own, with only two comrades and my new bondsman.”

  “I see now that the knights who had been sent to rout out the dragon were led astray by Lord Maldrake, for he always insisted on joining such ventures,” Sir Graybow spoke up. “As castellan of this castle, I think it unwise of you to hunt Verdilith with only yourself and three others. Surely even one knight, such as myself, would help your cause.” A little ripple of wonder spread through the room.

  Flinn inclined his head in respect toward the older man. “You are quite right, Sir Graybow; a knight such as yourself would help my cause indeed. I thank you for the offer, but I cannot accept it. Should I fail, I will return for that help, do not fear.” Flinn suppressed the thought of Karleah Kunzay’s prophecy.

  Baroness Arteris clasped her hands together before her. “If you ask for help, Sir Flinn, then we shall gladly grant it, for we are in your debt. Is there anything else you would ask the council?”

  Flinn nodded, then moved to stand behind Jo. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, Your Ladyship, there is one other matter. I would ask that you accept Johauna Menhir as my squire. She has been a boon to me this winter, and without her I wouldn’t be here before you. She has learned the sword and bow, and she rides well and is familiar with animals. Most of all, she has the heart and courage to be a knight in the Order of the Three Suns. She will one day do Penhaligon proud.” Flinn’s grip tightened on Jo’s shoulders and she trembled.

  The baroness nodded. “If that is your last request, we shall certainly not refuse it. We will be having the next formal initiation ceremony in a month, this spring, and both you and your squire should attend.” She accepted a soft bundle from Sir Graybow and stood. “As for now, please step forward, Sir Flinn and Squire Menhir.”

  Flinn and Jo moved forward as one. Flinn remembered his first initiation as a knight, more than twenty years ago. That ceremony, too, had been in the spring, just as Jo’s initiation as a squire would be. The ceremony was held in the great hall, and all were invited. Throngs of onlookers filled the hall that day, and all had cheered Flinn. Even as a young squire he had distinguished himself, and the people expected great things of him.

  Flinn stepped forward now in the castle’s meeting chamber. The same pride and excitement that had gripped him upon approaching the great baron came over him as he stopped before Arturus’ daughter.

  Baroness Arteris held out a midnight-blue tunic embroidered in gold. “Fain Flinn, former knight of the estates of Penhaligon,” the baroness intoned, “I do hereby formally reinstate you as a knight of the Order of the Three Suns. Go with grace and glory.”

  Flinn took the silky swath and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Ladyship.”

  The baroness turned to Jo and held out a golden tunic embroidered in blue. “Johauna Menhir, I do hereby formally instate you as a squire in the Order of the Three Suns. Go with grace and obey your knight, for through him you will learn what you must to become a knight, yourself.”

  Jo took the tunic and bowed as deeply as Flinn had. “Thank you, Your Ladyship,” she said, the words barely above a whisper. Then she looked at Flinn, who had never seen her eyes shine more brightly. “I’m a squire, Flinn. I’m a squire!” she said breathlessly.

  Flinn nodded, unaware that his own eyes shone back at hers, equally bright. “You’re a squire, Jo. My squire.”

  * * *

  Jo swallowed the last of her wine and then pushed her dishes away, sated. The pigeon pie had been truly excellent. Jo had never eaten a finer dinner in all her life. Flinn, Braddoc, Karleah, and Dayin were just finishing their meal. Brisbois, after having served them as per Flinn’s orders, was just now sitting down to eat. The six of them dined in one of the castle’s numerous guest suites—a spacious communal room adjoined to a number of bedrooms. Baroness Arteris had insisted on their being her guests tonight before they headed off to hunt Verdilith in the morning.

  The young squire looked around the elegant room while the others finished the fine burgundy. The carved and delicately tinted ceiling hovered at least fifteen feet above her. It contained designs that complemented the patterns in the parqueted wooden floor. Years of use had not dulled the floor’s smooth, glossy shine. Three tall, narrow windows graced the wall behind Jo’s back, and a number of dark, wooden doors in front of her led to the bedrooms and the hall.

  Jo smiled. She had a truly beautiful room all to herself, as did everyone but Dayin and Braddoc, who shared a room. Jo couldn’t remember ever having a room to herself, except the cellar hole she’d left behind in Specularum. Even that she’d shared with sewer rats and other vermin. Jo looked through the open door that led to her chamber. While the rest of the castle had awed her with its magnificence, nothing she had seen could compare to the friendly elegance of her bedroom. The delicate tapestries, the gilt chairs, the watercolor portraits, the window traceries—everything beckoned to Johauna. She wanted to stay forever in that room, safe and warm and well comforted.

  The squire sighed. She could see a corner of the softly inviting bed. After all the nights of sleeping outdoors on a few furs, the bed looked comfortable, indeed. One night of comfort, she thought, and then it’s time to start my life as a squire. At least now I have proper squire clothes.

  The baroness had been generous to both Flinn and Jo. The castellan outfitted Flinn with a new set of armor, which stood in one corner of the communal room. Brisbois had polished it earlier. Jo now owned two changes of proper clothing. Currently, she wore clean, fresh leggings, a soft undershirt, and the golden tunic. A pair of new boots and a warm woolen cape completed the outfit. Freshly bathed, her hair carefully braided, and clad in her new clothing, Jo had presented quite a different image when she entered the anteroom earlier this evening to join the others for dinner. But it was only Flinn’s appreciative eyes that she had noticed. The memory made her smile again at Flinn.

  “Glad to be an official squire, Jo?” Fli
nn guessed her thoughts. His smile in return was every bit as broad as hers.

  “Oh, yes! I’ve never been happier, and I have so much to thank Thor and Tarastia for!” Jo said enthusiastically. “I’m a squire, you’re a knight, and Dayin’s found a home with Karleah—” Jo ruffled the boy’s hair, but Dayin pulled away from her and hunched down in his chair. “Dayin? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” muttered the boy sullenly.

  Braddoc gestured toward Dayin with a silver bread knife. The dwarf was cutting a last slice of bread from a still-warm loaf. “He’s been acting strange ever since your hearing, Flinn. In fact, if memory serves me right, he started acting this way during the session.”

  “And why shouldn’t he be acting the way he is?” Karleah said carelessly. “The boy’s father is the one who led the lady into the hall.”

  “Dayin’s father?” Three voices chorused.

  “Dayin,” Jo asked first, “what does Karleah mean? Was that man really your father?”

  Dayin nodded, his eyes seeming too large for his head. “Yes,” he said, his lower lip trembling but trying not to.

  “Karleah?” Flinn turned to the wizardess and asked, “You knew Maloch Kine, didn’t you?”

  The old woman returned Flinn’s look, her tiny dark eyes bright in the light of the candles. “I knew him.” She shrugged. “It was Maloch Kine, all right. But he abandoned the boy, and now Dayin’s mine.”

  “Sir Brisbois,” Flinn called sharply, “who was that man attending Yvaughan?” His eyes locked on his bondsman, who finished a sip of wine and then spoke.

  “I was wondering when you’d get around to him,” Brisbois said. “The man’s name—at least here in the castle—is Teryl Auroch. He came here about two years ago as an ‘advisor’ for Yvaughan, courtesy of Maldrake, of course,” Brisbois added wryly.

  “What do you know about him?” Flinn asked.

  “The man’s a mage, and a powerful one, too.” Brisbois leaned toward Flinn. “I can’t prove it, but I think Auroch killed Yvaughan’s son—though, if he did, that was really a blessing in disguise now that I think just what the father was. Also, I think he was slowly poisoning Yvaughan, but I can’t prove that, either. Maldrake—Maldrake refused to listen to me when I tried to warn him about Auroch, but who knows? Maybe they had all this planned from the very beginning.” “Do you know if this Auroch is still here in the castle?” Flinn asked.