by T. H. Lain
Maelani's blood ran cold.
"Your father," the wretched man continued, "has made it clear that a marriage is in the offing. I beg…"
Vargussel finally looked her in the eyes, and if Maelani's blood could have run any colder, it would have. His eyes were hard, almost lifeless, but possessed of a keen intelligence that made Maelani almost as afraid as she was surprised.
"No," he corrected himself. "I do not beg, my lady, because I do not need to. I have the position, the blood, the service, and the will to make you my wife."
Maelani drew a slow breath, doing her best to ignore the man's odor, and said, "Sir, you assume much."
"I do," Vargussel answered. "I am a blunt man. That I admit freely. I have spent my life in serious study, in the consideration of matters of extraordinary significance and ancient power, but I have always put the needs of the duchy before my own and before the needs of my family. Now it is my family and yours both in need of an heir. You will find no better match-not among the sniveling brats of this city's bourgeoisie."
"Won't I?" Maelani asked.
"Sir," Theria cut in, "please accept my apologies, but I fear you are making the lady uncomfortable."
Maelani regarded her maid with a smile. Good old Theria: scared all the time, but dependable in a pinch.
Vargussel turned his gaze on Theria, who withered from it and stepped behind her mistress.
"Still," Maelani said to Vargussel, "you assume much."
Vargussel smiled and bowed his head slightly. Maelani took stock of the man again. He was taller than her and not badly put together. She thought that he might even have been attractive one day, decades past. His clothing was of the finest cut, but easily eight months or more out of date. She couldn't help but look at his shoes, though she preferred to at least try to stare the presumptuous man down.
"I have more to offer," he said, "than merely my family's fortune and loyalty. I will beg My Lady's forgiveness for one more transgression of protocol."
Maelani opened her mouth to withdraw that forgiveness, but Vargussel spoke over her.
"I love you," he said.
Theria gasped again, and Maelani could feel the maid peeking out from behind her.
"I-" Maelani started.
"Sir!" Theria all but yelped.
Without a glance at the maid, Vargussel said, "I love you, My Lady, in a most chaste and sincere way. I have known you all your life and have watched you grow from a troublesome child to a young woman of such grace and beauty, a mere duchy is not enough for you. Make me your husband, Maelani, and I'm certain you will grow to love me as I love you. Make me your duke, Maelani, and I will make you a queen."
Maelani realized she still had her mouth open, and she closed it, tapping her teeth together. She ignored the feeling of Theria's eyes burning into the back of her neck, and she worked hard on what she would say next. Vargussel stared at her, his hands pressed together as if he was praying. He was two strides away from her and she could still smell him.
"Vargussel," she said, "I know that you have served my father and the Duchy of Koratia well on many occasions for many years, so I will honor that and not repeat your hasty words to the duke. I will simply remind you, sir, that it is inappropriate for anyone to-"
"I know," Vargussel interrupted, drawing a raised eyebrow from Maelani. "I know all that. I know everything you're going to say, but all I can do is lay myself bare before you, My Lady, and await our life together."
"You smell," Maelani said, her mouth running far ahead of her mind, which sat by cheering.
"Lady…?" Vargussel started, his face turning blotchy red again.
"You smell," Maelani said, more loudly. "You reek of a sewer, you hideous, dried up old prune."
"Lady, I-"
"Will shut your stinking hole and let me finish, you wretch," the young woman continued.
Theria giggled and Vargussel flashed the maid a horrified glance.
"You think I could love you?" Maelani continued. "How could you think that? Is that what drives you in your most arcane and mysterious studies in your filth-reeking laboratory, you gutter rat? Is it those grimy, little fantasies that fuel your twisted old mind when you shop for last year's ridiculous pigaches? Look at you. Look at yourself."
Vargussel clamped his mouth shut, his lips pressing into a white line.
"Mistress," Theria whispered, tugging on her arm.
Maelani jerked her arm out of her maid's grip and held up a thin finger at Vargussel.
The door opened and a guard stepped in. The noise startled all three of the anteroom's occupants and they shuffled uncomfortably, taking stock of themselves before the intruder.
"Vargussel," the guard said, looking from the old wizard to the duke's daughter to the maid.
Maelani could see the man trying to work out the situation and had to assume he hadn't heard the conversation. She turned to the guard, who bowed, then she strode quickly to the outer door. Theria hustled behind her, shooting Vargussel one last look of stern disapproval.
"Sir," the guard said, "the duke will see you now."
Maelani let Theria close the door behind them without looking back.
9
Vargussel felt as if his blood had frozen solid. His veins and arteries were like a second skeleton, propping him up for all to see in his perfect, crystalline humiliation. He felt as if, at the slightest touch, he would shatter into a million shards of stupidity, ignorance, and self-loathing, and that every one of those million shards would be coated in the greasy stench of an abandoned slaughterhouse, his new family home, the final resting place of the tiny shred of human dignity that remained to his miserable "Are you all right, sir?" a voice asked, sending a shiver up Vargussel's back.
The wizard blinked, shook his head, and his eyes fell on the face of the guard. Where he was, what he was doing, and more than that who he was, flooded back into Vargussel. His blood flowed once more, his mind raced anew, and his skin tingled with anticipation.
"I am fine," he said, smiling at the sound of his own voice. The words came out steadily, in a tone deep and strong.
The guard nodded and gestured to the door.
"The duke awaits," he said.
Vargussel grinned at the man and said, "Indeed he does, son."
The duke awaits, Vargussel thought. The Duke of Koratia, one of the most powerful men in world, awaits me. He cannot function without me. The city, the duchy, the world itself would crumble without me. I am the man the duke needs most, and it will be the duke who convinces his daughter that "Sir?" the guard said, again breaking into Vargussel's reverie.
The wizard took a deep breath, nodded, and followed the guard through the door.
As they passed through the short hall to the duke's private office, Vargussel adjusted his clothing, shook his shoulders, and finished gathering his wits about him. When the guard opened the door to the office Vargussel was fully himself again, prepared to once more make himself indispensable to his duke.
"Vargussel," the duke said," there you are, old man."
Once, Vargussel would have been delighted to hear the duke refer to him as "old man." For a man like the duke, that was a sign of acceptance. After his utter failure with Maelani, however, the greeting made Vargussel feel like…an old man.
"Are you all right?" the duke asked.
Vargussel cleared his throat, found his mouth as dry as dust, and croaked out, "Certainly, Your Highness."
"You look like a cavalryman who forgot his codpiece," the duke joked. "Come in."
Vargussel shuffled into the office in his ridiculous shoes, and just then became aware of the thin sheen of sweat that coated his entire body. He looked up at the duke and forced a smile. The duke looked back at him with narrowed eyes, sincere concern on his face.
"Your Highness," Vargussel said, "sent for me?"
The duke nodded and motioned to a chair. Vargussel, knees shaking, all but staggered to a seat-then jumped when someone touched his back and said, "Excuse
me, sir."
Vargussel turned and realized he'd almost sat in another man's lap. The duke was chuckling and the man, who Vargussel didn't recognize, looked embarrassed. Vargussel shuffled to the other chair, made a conscious effort to see that it was empty, and sat. One of his knees cracked painlessly but loudly on the way down. Vargussel closed his eyes and sighed.
His eyes still closed, Vargussel heard the duke snap his fingers and there were hurried footsteps, the sound of water being poured into a glass, and the guard's voice again, saying, "Sir?"
Vargussel opened his eyes, took the glass of water from the guard, and drank it down with shaking hands in one, unsatisfying gulp.
"Thank you," he said to neither the guard nor the duke in particular.
The guard took the glass and left the room in an embarrassed hurry.
"Vargussel?" the duke said, his voice heavy with concern.
Vargussel breathed deeply and looked at the duke, who was sitting behind his impressive desk, eyeing him.
"Your Highness," Vargussel said, "please accept my most sincere apologies. My experiments are reaching a critical phase, and I have to admit that lost sleep has been the price of my success in the laboratory. I hope you will forgive my state, as I hope you will believe that I am as able as I am willing to serve the duchy in whatever manner Your Highness desires."
"Good," the duke replied, glancing at the other man. "For a moment I thought something had happened in the anteroom. I trust you saw Lady Maelani on her way out."
Vargussel felt the blood drain from his face, but he said, "Yes, Your Highness."
"And you're certain all is well?"
"I am, Your Highness," Vargussel replied, "most assuredly."
"Very well," said the duke, sitting back in his chair and motioning to the strange man. "This is Regdar, who just moments ago accepted the position of Lord Constable of New Koratia. Lord Constable, may I introduce Vargussel, a most capable wizard and a loyal friend to the duchy."
Regdar tipped his head at Vargussel and said, "Vargussel. It is my pleasure."
"Lord Constable?" Vargussel said.
"Yes," replied the duke. "Regdar is one of my most trusted soldiers, and he has agreed to serve the duchy in the investigation of these murders."
Vargussel swallowed, his mouth and throat still dry. He dabbed the sweat from his brow with his fingertips, which served only to send the perspiration dripping into his eyes.
Blinking madly, he said, "He has? I mean…has he indeed?"
"Are you quite certain you're not ill, old man?" asked the duke.
"I am, Your Highness," Vargussel replied. He shifted in his seat to sit up straighter and he turned to face the new lord constable. "My apologies, Lord Constable. Please feel free to assume that, unless his highness should say otherwise, my services are at your disposal, such as they may be."
"Precisely what I hoped to hear," the duke said.
Regdar said, "Thank you, Vargussel."
"Yes," the old wizard said, putting his hands on the arms of the chair to signal that he was intending to stand, "well, there we are."
The duke put out a hand and the wizard sat back, clenching his teeth so they wouldn't chatter.
"Easy there, Vargussel," the duke said. "Why don't we sit a moment and let you rest. If you're to be of any help to the lord constable, to me, or to anyone-including yourself-you should rest, and perhaps eat."
"I will," Vargussel replied, "thank you, sir."
Well, the old wizard thought, he feels sorry for me. I am a pitiful old man.
He cleared his throat again and once more sat up straight. He turned his attention to Regdar and looked the man up and down. He was huge, a behemoth.
A soldier, indeed.
Vargussel smiled as he took stock of the man's too-small head, and he made up his mind all at once that the new Lord Constable would be as easy to manipulate as the duke and as unlikely to appear at Vargussel's door.
"Lord Constable," Vargussel said, "were you acquainted with any of the young victims?"
"No," Regdar replied.
Vargussel waited patiently for more, but soon realized that the new lord constable had finished speaking with that one word.
"Have you a plan, then," the wizard asked, "for your investigation? A strategy for driving this madman-whoever he may be-to the cold light of the duke's justice?"
Regdar glanced at the duke, then said, "No."
Vargussel opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Regdar added, "Not yet."
"Not yet, indeed," the wizard replied. "Well, all in due time, I'm sure."
"Regdar has only held the post for five minutes, Vargussel," the duke said. "I'm sure he'll make us all proud."
"You were born a common man, then?" Vargussel asked Regdar, not intentionally ignoring the duke. "Not from the aristocracy, are you?"
"No," Regdar replied.
"A common foot soldier, then?" Vargussel pressed. "A man with arms like maces, tempered in the blood of the enemies of the duchy, is that it?"
"Vargussel…" the duke started to say.
"I suppose so," Regdar replied.
"Good for you," the wizard said. "I'm certain your family has never been more thrilled."
"I have no family," Regdar replied.
"Not yet," added the duke-all too quickly for Vargussel's tastes.
"Well…I…uh…" Regdar stammered.
"Oh, he'll have a family all right," the duke said.
"A young lady, is there, Lord Constable?" Vargussel teased.
"Actually…the lord constable started, but it was the duke who finished for him.
"Let's just say that my daughter has a way of getting what she wants."
Vargussel's heart seemed to stop in his chest. Tingling fingers of cold death worried about his shoulders and spine. His legs trembled, and sweat broke out on his forearms.
"Your daughter?" he managed to say.
The duke chuckled and winked at him, and Vargussel found it difficult to breathe.
"Yes…well…" Vargussel said. "Yes…why not?"
"Why not indeed," said the duke.
Because I'm going to kill him, Vargussel said only to himself. Because my shield guardian will hold a rod to his head that will blast his soul into shreds. Because he is now on my list. Because she will not have what she wants, but what she needs. Because…
"Yes," he said aloud, "why not indeed, Your Highness…Lord Constable…why not, indeed."
10
Naull found it difficult to keep up with Regdar and the tall, skinny man who owned the Thrush and the Jay. The skinny man was walking faster than most people ran. If Naull could spare the energy to look at him, she fully expected Regdar to be sweating and panting from the exertion. He'd insisted on wearing his heavy, cumbersome armor and he clanked his way up the stairs like a steel golem.
She wanted to be angry with him, but she was also smart enough to identify jealousy, even in herself. So he was the Lord Constable-so what? It meant nothing, except that he was a member of the aristocracy and would never be able to marry her, though he could marry the duke's daughter. That would make him the duke, eventually, and Naull one of his subjects.
To Carceri with it, she thought. I am jealous.
When the tall, skinny man stopped at one of the wide double doors in the hall at the top of the stairs, Naull wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.
"Please tell me this is it," she said, making a show of shaking her tired legs.
Regdar smiled at her in that endearing way he had. She suppressed the urge to slap his face and instead turned her attention to the inn's owner.
"Yes, madam," he said, "this is the…unfortunate room."
Naull ignored the sarcastic tone she was sure she heard in his use of the word "madam," and she waited patiently for him to finish unlocking the doors.
"Leave us here," Regdar told the proprietor. "We'll come find you when we're finished."
The tall, skin
ny man raised one tall, skinny eyebrow and looked down his tall, skinny nose judgmentally at Regdar. He swung the doors open and stepped out of the way, clicked his heels on the marble floor, and tipped his head in a cursory bow.
Regdar walked into the room and Naull followed, but not before she smiled graciously at the man and said, "Thank you, sir. Do let us know if any more murders occur while we're here."
The man's face blanched and Naull closed the doors behind her.
The room was as opulent as the one Naull shared with Regdar. The massive bed was draped in the finest silk and wool, and the marble floor was covered with exotic rugs that might have been woven by elves. The furniture was quite old but in impeccable repair. The air smelled of lavender from the scented candles burning in gold sconces. Lingering just at the edge of Naull's senses, though, was another scent. It was the odor of something burned, the scent of a lightning-struck tree…something like that.
Regdar strode purposefully to a small table set for two. On the duke's orders, the body had been taken away but nothing else had been touched. The remains of a light supper from the night before was congealing on plates of the finest porcelain, and the dregs of a bottle of vintage elven dew wine stained a pair of crystal glasses.
"Our friend had a guest?" Naull asked.
Regdar nodded and said, "A young elf he was…seeing, I guess. The duke asked me not to be too specific about that in public. I guess it would cause some kind of scandal."
"Why?" Naull asked. "The sons of the rich and famous aren't supposed to date elves?"
Regdar actually blushed and looked down, pretending to examine the fine linen tablecloth.
"What?" Naull asked.
Regdar cleared his throat and said, "In the army, it's more common than you…well, anyway…we're not supposed to ask…"
When Naull realized what he was saying, she nodded vigorously and felt her cheeks flush.