A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals)

by Daniel Antoniazzi

  Some porters came out and began unloading the carriage. Michael looked around to see if there would be any sort of welcoming party. He finally spotted Gabriel coming down the main steps.

  “Good afternoon, Master Michael,” Gabriel said.

  “A pleasure to see you, Master Gabriel. Are my parents on their way down?”

  “Your father asked me to see you to your room. He and your mother are having a… discussion about an upcoming journey.”

  They began walking up the steps, following the porters into the Castle.

  “A ‘discussion,’ is it?” Michael asked, with a wry tone.

  “I suppose you’ve known for some time,” Gabriel said, “But prudence still counts for something around here. When I speak to anyone outside the court, they are never fighting or arguing. They are always just discussing.”

  They walked in silence until they came to Michael’s room in the East Tower. As it always was when he returned from the Towers, the room was made up nicely, and the bed looked very inviting after the long carriage ride.

  “Well, here you are,” Gabriel said. “I’ll have someone come and fetch you for dinner.”

  “Thank you, Master Gabriel,” Michael said.

  “As a matter of decorum,” Gabriel said, “You do not need to call me ‘Master.’ You will soon be a Master yourself, and in any case, you are the heir to the County. Someday, I’ll have to start calling you ‘Count’ anyway.”

  “Well, you’ve known me since I was born,” Michael said, “It seems that even decorum should make way for respect.”

  Gabriel grumbled something, but Michael had known Gabriel for just long enough to know that it was a pleased grumble. Or, at least, it was as pleased a grumble as you could get out of him.

  “By the way,” Michael said, “What journey are my parents…discussing?”

  “King Vincent has asked that your father act as the Ambassador to Delinampora, in Khiransi. They would leave in about a week and spend the summer there.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “It’s a question of staffing,” Gabriel said.

  “I’m sorry?” Michael said.

  “Perhaps you are too young for the full explanation.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to find out on my own. Do you doubt that I can?”

  “Very well,” Gabriel said, though he made a point of mumbling a little, to emphasize his displeasure, “Your father has made the argument that Lady Vivian should accompany them on this journey, to help with…morale.”

  “I see,” Michael said, rubbing his bare chin. “My mother did not take this idea well.”

  “Not even a little.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met Lady Vivian. She is…?”

  “Third daughter of Lord Blaggathon.”

  “From Arwall?”

  “The same.”

  “What’s she doing all the way over here?”

  “I’m not allowed to speculate out loud. Suffice it to say, she has a guest room permanently dedicated to her on the third floor of the North Wing.”

  “That’s about as far as you can get from my parents’ bedchambers, isn’t it?”

  “They taught you a lot at that little Academy, didn’t they?”

  “When you read as much history as I have for the last few years, you quickly become accustomed to the idea of a mistress.”

  “Hush!” Gabriel exclaimed, then took a few paces closer to Michael. “Don’t let your mother hear you say that word. Or your father for that matter. Better not to use it at all.”

  “Sorry, Master Gabriel.”

  “It’s alright. Just be careful. The situation has become extremely sensitive.”

  “Yes, Master Gabriel.”

  “Get some rest. I’ll have you sent for when it’s time to dine.”

  Gabriel turned to leave.

  “Gabriel,” Michael said. The old man turned again in the doorway. “If she’s the third daughter of Lord Blaggathon, she can’t be older than, what, about twenty-three?”

  “Nineteen, actually.”

  “My father is forty-six.”

  “Welcome to the adult world.”

  Gabriel nodded, and then finally made his exit.

  Michael sighed as he collapsed onto the bed. He thought he would be tired enough to fall right asleep, but the thought of his parents arguing was bothering him. He sat quietly for a few moments until he came to a conclusion: He would never have a mistress. He understood the abstract concept of a mistress, but Michael decided he wouldn’t get married until he found someone that he loved truly. Someone who would fulfill his life so completely, that he wouldn’t need to seek anything outside the marriage.

  That’s how it always was in the bards’ tales. A part of his mind told him that he was being idealistic. Truly, from his studies, it seemed that mistresses and affairs were a regular part of all nobility. But Michael decided he would hold himself to a higher standard.

  Finding himself now fidgety from the news, he decided he would spend the hours before dinner doing something practical. He was going to meet Lady Vivian.

  Michael changed his clothes, washed his face, and then left his chambers. Gabriel had described where her chambers were, but at this time in the afternoon, it was unlikely she would be there. Michael realized that while he had a geographical understanding of the Castle, he would need insight from someone who had been living there more consistently.

  Just then, a boy turned the corner. He was probably about ten or eleven, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was carrying a parchment case.

  “Excuse me, boy,” Michael said.

  The boy immediately stopped and bowed.

  “Master Michael,” he acknowledged.

  “Haven’t graduated yet, but how did you know it was me?”

  “I’ve seen you around before. You’re probably just back from Seneca.”

  “Just this hour, in fact.”

  “Name’s Landos, Sir. At your service.”

  “Don’t you have to deliver that missive?”

  “Already done. On my way back now, Sir.”

  “I was wondering if you could help me with something. I need to find Lady Vivian.”

  “I see,” Landos said, “Do you want to meet her or just see her?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Master Michael, I’ve been running messages around the Castle for a couple of years now. Hardest part about delivering a message: What people ask isn’t always what they want to know. So, you say you want to ‘find’ Lady Vivian. But I say, ‘Do you want to meet her,’ which you couldda meant. Or do you want to ‘see’ her, which you also couldda meant.”

  “Why would I want to see her but not meet her?”

  Landos’ eyes shifted from side to side, making sure they were alone. He then stepped closer to Michael and whispered, “I thought maybe you’d heard about her bosom.”

  Landos stepped back and gave a quick wink to Michael.

  “Her bosom?”

  Landos demonstrated with his hands, cupping two imaginary and, it should be noted, large breasts protruding from his body.

  “She’s got ‘em out to here, she does. And you been around the Castle s’much as I have, you know how to be in a room, and how to just see a room.”

  “What are you—”

  “About this time, Lady Vivian is usually in the stables, feeding her favorite horse. I’m usually with the stableboys, ‘bout this time, if I can possibly help it.”

  “I see.”

  “But it’s one thing to be in the stable with her, and it’s another thing to know about the candle room.”

  “Which is?”

  “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Michael was surprised to find himself following this wise young boy through the halls. They descended to the bowels of the Castle, where the servants and cooks were busy preparing for the evening meal. Michael made perfunctory nods to some of the staff that he recognized by face, but had to move quickly to keep pa
ce with young Landos.

  Finally, they arrived at the candle room, which was a simple name given to the room in which the castle stored its candles. The room smelled with an abundance of wax, but it was actually somewhat pleasant.

  “Over here,” Landos said, coming to one of the walls. There was a particularly vertical pile of crates resting along the stone, which Landos pushed aside with great ease. Despite their labels, they were empty.

  Michael saw that once the crates had been pushed aside, there was a crack in the wall. Some of the stone had crumbled away, leaving a sliver of the wall open enough to look through. Landos leaned against the wall and did just this. He receded with a grin.

  “Take a gander.”

  Michael felt somewhat awkward, leaning his face into the crack in the wall, but he did it anyway, and indeed, he was looking into the stables. And right before him was a woman, petting one of the horses on this end of the stables. Michael immediately recognized the woman by Landos’ description.

  “See what I’m saying?” Landos said. “She changes the tide when she goes to the shore.”

  “Yes, very nice,” Michael said, dismissively, as he removed himself from the wall.

  “So now you’ve seen,” Landos said, as he took one last peek and replaced the crates. “You want to meet her?”

  “I’m sure I will, eventually,” Michael said.

  “Don’t be so sure, beggin’ your pardon, Sir.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Count Alexander, your father, of course, Sir, doesn’t let her spend a lot of time in company. She knows the porters better than the Lords and Ladies.”

  “My father has learned his lesson well.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Landos said, indicating that he knew exactly what Michael meant.

  “But you say you can arrange an introduction?”

  “Well, if you happen to be walking the garden on the north side of the Castle at certain hours…”

  Michael produced another ducat and placed it in Landos’ palm.

  “Tell you what: Next time you happen to notice her there, send word.”

  “Will do, Master Michael,” Landos said, smiling and pocketing the coin. “But you’d best be getting to the Dining Hall. It’s nearly dark.”

  “So it is,” Michael said. “You keep a lot of things floating around in your head.”

  “Better to know the answers than have to ask the questions.”

  Michael was almost out the door when he turned back to Landos.

  “That’s a useful skill to have,” Michael said, and then left.

  Chapter 10: Alarms

  Landos startled awake when the East Tower rang.

  This was his nightmare. To be woken by alarms in the dead of night. The sense of security scared out of him by the song of the bells. The carelessness of the last six years replaced instantaneously with the terror and the trauma of war.

  But he knew this wasn’t a nightmare. He knew it was real, because it was much more frightening awake than it had been in his bad dreams.

  He was naked, in bed with Sarah, who was also naked. That wasn’t his nightmare. Getting caught was his nightmare. When the Tower bells ring, that’s a problem. Because the first thing the guards are supposed to do is secure the Queen and secure the Prince. Those were the rules. Hell, Landos had written those rules.

  Even worse, the guards were supposed to light all the lanterns and watch the courtyards, which would make climbing down the vines nearly impossible.

  He scrambled out of bed, grabbing his tunic and trousers, scampering behind the post. Hoping to remain out of sight at least when the doors opened.

  “Your Majesty!” one of the guards called from the hallway. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Please don’t come in yet, I’m not dressed.”

  “I’m supposed to bring you to the throne room,” the persistent and dutiful guard shouted through the thick doors.

  “I’ll come out to you in a minute. Just... wait out there please!” Sarah also scrambled for her clothes. She whispered to Landos, who was now dressed, “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Landos said, “Get to the throne room, make sure William is alright. I’ll come down the long way.”

  “What’s the long way?” Sarah asked, straightening her gown.

  “I don’t know yet. Go. Before they burst in here.”

  “Don’t forget this,” she said, handing him his chain of office.

  Sarah waited for Landos to duck behind the dresser before she swung the doors opened. A small platoon of guards waited, spears at the ready, for any sign of trouble. But Sarah calmed them down. She called for a servant to bring a dress for her to the Throne Room, where she would change behind a screen.

  When the guards left, Landos saw his opening. He slipped out the main door, but took the other staircase. He raced down to the second floor, where he dashed across the corridor, so he could come down from the wing of the castle where his oft-neglected bed actually waited. But the whole time, his mind was racing. What emergency could have caused the alarms to ring at this hour? Was it an invasion? Was it the Prince?

  He scrambled into the throne room to find a crowd waiting for him. The guards, the staff, Sarah, and William, thank the Gods. At least William was safe. Landos hadn’t realized how much of the tension would lift when he saw that. Whatever else was happening, he could survive so long as his son wasn’t hurt.

  But as the crowd parted, Landos spotted Sir Noble, the Captain of the Guard, talking to Duncan. What was Duncan doing in Anuen? He wasn’t supposed to arrive for another three days, with Countess Vye...

  “What’s happened?” Landos demanded.

  “Sir,” Noble answered, “You know Master Duncan...”

  “Magistrate,” Duncan interrupted, “We need to talk in private. Now.”

  Landos trusted Duncan’s judgement. The scholar had been instrumental in negotiating the Peace Treaty, and there was a reason Vye had chosen him to run her County. If he was asking for privacy, it must have been important. And Landos couldn’t help but notice that he was still wearing his riding boots. That meant he had come here by horse. Not through a Shadow Portal. Which meant Countess Vye was...

  Landos turned to Sarah, who nodded her approval.

  “OK, everyone out!” Landos called. “Back to your posts or your beds, whichever you were at before.”

  The mumbling crowd departed, all eyes on Duncan. They either had no idea who he was, or they had seen what Landos had seen: That he was here without Countess Vye. Only the Queen, Sir Noble, Duncan, and a young girl who was with Duncan remained behind. The servants escorted Prince William back to bed. Baron Dubon von Wrims lingered for a moment with Duncan.

  “Have we met before, hmm?” Dubon said to Duncan.

  “I don’t believe so,” Duncan responded.

  “Who are your parents?” Dubon inquired, staring at the younger man.

  “Lord Kelliwick of Arwall.”

  “Perhaps it is him zat I remember,” the Baron said.

  “Baron,” Landos said, “Please, we need the room.”

  “If zere is any way I can be helpful...” he said, patting Landos on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, Baron,” Landos walked him to the door. As soon as the last of the crowd was gone, Landos slammed the throne room shut himself. “Now, somebody tell me what the hell is happening?”

  “The Countess has been attacked,” Duncan jumped in. “Two people came to Hartstone. Incredibly powerful magicians. Destroyed half the castle. Almost killed Countess Vye.”

  “They did kill her,” the little girl rejoined. She realized she wasn’t supposed to speak, “Sorry.”

  “Vye is dead?” Sarah gasped.

  “No,” Duncan said, shooting a scolding look at the girl, “She’s alive. Your Majesty, Magistrate, may I present Nuria, Vye’s pupil.”

  “I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, Your Majesty,” she said, cu
rtsying, even though she was still in trousers from the horse ride.

  “Be at ease, child,” Sarah said, kneeling beside the nerve-wracked girl. “Tell us what you meant.”

  “They did kill the Countess. She was dead for maybe as long as a minute.”

  “Nuria is leaving out the part where she saved Vye,” Duncan added.

  “When was this?” Landos asked.

  “Three days ago,” Duncan answered. “Nuria and I rode our horses into the ground getting here. Landos, the reason we wanted to speak in private is to tell you she’s alive. Everyone else in Hartstone thinks she’s dead, except for her brother.”

  “Quick thinking,” Landos said. “Was it the Turin?”

  “No,” Duncan said, “I only saw them briefly, but Nuria says she didn’t know where they were from. Just that their magic was immensely powerful.”

  Nuria nodded in agreement. Landos paced the Throne Room, rubbing his goatee. He would not be surprised to learn that many of the same thoughts he was having now, Duncan had already experienced on the day of the attack.

  “Shit,” Landos concluded.

  “Yeah,” Duncan agreed.

  “OK, we play along. Make it public that Vye is dead. Whoever attacked her can’t know the truth. But we need to find out more about the attackers.”

  “How?” Sarah asked, “The only person in the Kingdom who knows enough about magic is Julia Vye.”

  “Then we have to ask someone who knows more than Vye,” Landos suggested.

  “Who knows more than Vye?” Nuria asked. But Landos and Duncan shared a glance, and Duncan knew what the Magistrate was thinking.

  “The Turin-Guarde,” Duncan answered. Landos nodded. If anybody on the continent knew about these attackers, it would be their recent enemies.

  “Let’s hope that Peace Treaty really means something to them,” Landos commented.

  “OK, so what’s the plan?” Duncan asked.

  “We send a group to the Turinheld and ask for an audience with the Turin-Guarde,” Landos said.

  “They’re coming here,” Sir Noble chimed in. “The Peace Festival is in ten days.”

  “This can’t wait,” Landos said. “A fast ship can get there in four days.”