by Helix Parker
He suddenly realized that he did not recognize any of his surroundings. The path he was on was not the road to Bale. He stopped and scanned the area. A mountain he recognized was just to the east. The path he wanted was on the other side, no more than a few moments’ walk.
17
As king of the realm, Henry Idwal could not sleep as late as he had when he was a prince. He found that possibly the most annoying aspect of being king. He controlled armies and the wealthiest in the kingdom groveled before him for favors, yet if he spent too long in bed, he would be up all through the night, signing grants, deeds, and ordinances.
He opened his eyes and sighed. The two nude women next to him didn’t stir. Drinking honeywine was an art. The drink was deceptive, much like a woman. The taste was as sweet as melted candy, but the wine was powerful. More than two or three cups always led to vomiting, even with the most stalwart individual. More than five or six, as the two girls in his bed had drunk, and a person was likely to sleep for a day.
He rose, pushing the head of one of the girls off his arm, causing her to moan. He grinned and put on his Camus red silk robe with the gold trim. He walked over to one of the tall windows in his chamber and looked out over the capital city of Thresh. The sun was rising, and its rays gleamed off the buildings as a flock of doves flew like specks of dust thrown over the city. Whenever the king awoke, doves were released. An annoying tradition.
What truly bothered Henry was the fact that they seemed to know he was awake. The knowledge either came from some sort of magic—he did have diviners in his court after all—or someone peered through his windows every morning. The tradition would have stopped with him, but his advisors told him that tradition was what kept a people together, and the releasing of the doves was a relatively harmless one.
“Come back to bed, Highness.”
He turned. “I have work to do.”
The girl’s bare breasts were perky in the sunlight as she sat up. “Shall we wait here for you?”
“If you wish. Or you may wander about the court. I will require you in here tonight as well but bring another girl with you. That one bored me.”
“Of course, Highness.”
Henry went into his antechambers where maidens awaited to dress him. He always broke his fast with a meal of honey, bread, and beckleberry marmalade while sitting on the patio overlooking his castle’s entrance. He liked to watch who was there early, a clear sign of desperation, and who came sauntering in late.
He dressed in a black one-piece garment with a gold necklace embedded with square rubies. He walked directly to Abundant Hall. The hall lived up to its name. When he was a boy, it had once taken him all of a morning to simply find a particular room. At the time, the hall was the most fun part of the castle. He and his friends were left utterly alone as the space was too massive for anyone to watch them. But as king, he found the hall useless, a leftover ornament from an age of frivolity.
“Your Highness,” Cabbett said, “we have a full day planned for you.”
Henry acknowledged his advisor’s bow with a nod. “I was hoping to go hunting today.”
“I’m afraid that would be difficult. The governors will be here shortly, and they have much to discuss. Some of them are requesting a furlough on the royal taxes.”
“I know all about it. They can burn with Chedes in the underworld for all I care.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Sire. The realm is… in a difficult spot right now. Times are difficult and work scarce.”
“Come with me.” Henry began walking down the hall.
The sounds of Henry’s boots slapping the floor echoed, but Cabbett’s slippers made not a whisper. Henry grew annoyed with all the staff bowing to him as they passed. A simple “Morning, Sire” would have sufficed, but they seemed intent on showing him who was willing to kneel the longest.
The patio was decorated in purple and gold, his two favorite colors. A table had been arranged with his favorite early morning finger foods, and he sat as a servant poured berry juice mixed with the leaves of a small plant called the Hyacinth, a delectable morsel found only in the outskirts of a faraway empire.
Cabbott waited by his side until Henry finally groaned and said, “By the gods, just sit down, Cabbott. You’ve been breaking fast with me for years.”
“It is courtesy, Highness. You are the king.”
“And I am also a man in a hurry, so let’s not dally.”
Cabbott took a seat at the table. “The governors feel that trade has been reduced since you invalidated the Treaty of Ferlin.”
“The Ferlinians were not holding to the treaty. Why should I keep up appearances as if we are still allies when they trade with our enemies? Why, the Empire of Oryt received boatloads of Ferlinian steel meant for our smiths just a season ago.”
“This is politics we’re speaking of, Sire. Politics is appearance and practically nothing else. If you appear as allies, you are allies. If you appear as enemies, you are enemies. For those appearances will dictate to the common folk how the realm should deal with our enemies and allies. And if you do not deal with them how it is perceived that you should deal with them, we have discontent.”
Henry took a sip of juice and wiped his lips with a silk napkin. “What do I care of discontent?”
“Sire, we have enough adversaries without making our own people enemies as well.” Cabbott leaned back and interlaced his fingers. “You do not need to appease them. As I said, all is appearances. We simply must appear to appease them.”
“And how do we do that?”
“By renegotiating a new treaty with the Ferlinians—a new and more expansive one—and then not following a word in it. It will not matter that we do not adhere to its terms, only that we reached out to them. We will make a big pomp and circumstance over the occasion, and the Ferlinians will be pleased and begin trading with us again. The governors will be happy, the populace will be happy, and we will be happy.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “There is no happiness in this life, Cabbott. With all your knowledge and wisdom, you still haven’t learned that lesson.”
Cabbott shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. An ugly man coming from a lowly station in life, he prized his intellect above all else. Henry knew that for anyone to question that, even the king, cut to the heart of him.
But Cabbott shrugged as if the comment hadn’t fazed him. “Perhaps all we need is to appear happy as well.”
Henry watched a maiden spread golden butter on a slice of lemon cake and dab it with marmalade. “Very well. Make the arrangements.”
“Right away, Sire.”
Henry bit into his lemon cake, savoring the sweet and salty taste of the beckleberry. He looked over and realized his advisor hadn’t moved. “Yes, Cabbott, what else?”
“Some rumors, Sire.”
“What rumors?”
“Regarding the Marauders.”
“What about them? Stop being coy. It is not cute on a man with a face like yours.”
“Of course, Sire. My apologies. There are rumors that they no longer wish to serve you and have struck out on their own. They are planning a massive siege of Dolane.”
He snickered. “Dolane is our second largest city. What will they do, scrape their swords against the stone walls? The walls are at least twenty feet high.”
“I realize this, Sire. But that is the rumor my spies in their camp have relayed.”
Henry shook his head, looking out over the castle entrance and the city beyond. “I don’t trust Erebos. He’s a monster but a useful monster. If I were to do the things he does, the people would turn against me.”
“While no one is arguing that they are not useful tools, they are also dangerous ones. If they turn on you and attack Dolane, we would have to respond in kind with an attack on Castle Night. A civil war would ensue.”
“Civil war? We’re talking about ten to fifteen thousand Marauders in the entire kingdom, maybe not even that. I have an army of a million men.
You tell me if fifteen thousand can stand up to a million.”
“Were they normal men, they would have not a wisp of a chance. But they are not normal men. I have… spared you the stress of having to deal with them, but they are not like us. Their only wish is to die in battle and have their names remembered. They may even welcome a fight as one-sided as a million against fifteen thousand.”
“So let them.”
“And there is the matter of Erebos. It is rumored he has certain powers that everyday men do not possess.”
“What type of powers?”
“Dark powers, Sire. They are worshippers of Chedes.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in the tales meant for children and the elderly. Mages and dragons and gorgons. You may as well believe in fairies and trolls that live under bridges.”
“I am far older than you, Sire. I served in this same capacity to your father and your father’s father. I have seen much of the world you have not experienced, and I can tell you that there are things in it that we cannot explain.”
Henry finished his drink and held out his cup for another. A maiden ran over with a pitcher and filled it. Her hands were trembling, and some of the dark drink spilled over Henry’s hand and onto the floor. The maiden gasped, all color leaving her face. She shook so furiously the contents of the pitcher swooshed around like a tornado.
Henry nodded at her. “It is all right. Just clean it up.”
She bowed deeply, almost spilling more juice. “Thank you, Sire.”
Henry leaned back in his chair, observing the man in front of him. Cabbott was more knowledgeable than any man he had ever known. Henry couldn’t quite call the man wise, but wisdom was certainly locked away in that large head. And though Cabbott had loyally served the royal family for generations, something about the advisor fomented distrust.
“So, Cabbott, you brought up these rumors. What would you have me do? Attack the Marauder horde on the rumors of your spies? None of whom, I might add, you have revealed to me.”
“Perhaps a meeting is in order, Sire. Just a gathering for you to see who precisely it is we have gotten into bed with.”
“Fine. Set up a meeting.”
“As you wish, Sire.” Cabbott rose and bowed. “If I may be excused, I must prepare for the governors’ arrival.”
Henry waved him off, and Cabbot began walking away.
The advisor stopped at the patio doors and turned. “Sire, if the rumors do prove to be true and Erebos is planning an attack on Dolane, it may be prudent to let the city’s administrators know so that they may fortify their defenses.”
“Yes, yes,” Henry said impatiently. “Let them know.”
“Again, as you wish, Sire.” Cabbott scampered into the hallway. He didn’t walk so much as bob like a drunken bird. An odd man he was.
Henry felt uneasy around him, as though the advisor was always planning two steps ahead and knew exactly what Henry was going to answer before he did so. But like Erebos, Cabbott was useful. Though Henry protested and rolled his eyes and occasionally called the man a fool, he always did what Cabbott suggested.
“Girl!” he bellowed, “I wish to fornicate. Strip off your clothes.”
18
Bale was not the most entertaining city in the world, Edgar decided. The brothels, of which he did end up visiting a few, had only the slightest trace of diversity, and their lovemaking sessions were quick and sloppy—probably from too much wine drank on both sides. The fascination with the sea provided some diversion. He even rented out a barge and toured the Turtle Isles. But even that quickly lost its sway. A full day of vomiting in the ocean did not make for a good time.
He spent his last day searching for a group of warriors brave enough to face the Marauders. By dusk, he had to laugh at his efforts. How silly of him to think anyone would stand against the barbarians. No matter how much he offered, the answer was always no.
Edgar decided revenge was not to be his. Nor justice. He would simply spend the rest of his life in a drunken, whoring haze, wondering about what could have been had his people survived. The gods did have a cruel sense of humor.
The tavern was empty the next morning. As it was time to break his fast, he asked for some honey in his wine. The serving wench was quick, and he drank two glasses before he rose and walked outside.
The city was cool, and the sky was overcast with gray clouds, not at all the boiling heat he’d grown accustomed to. In fact, his clothing was made of thin fabric meant to breathe and exposed the skin of his legs and arms. He shivered slightly from the chill and decided to visit a tailor. It couldn’t hurt to have a few more items of clothing before he left.
But where would he go? Andor Ray was to the south, a fine city known for its eclectic use of pearls in the construction of its buildings. Pano in the east was a city of cutthroats, rapists, and those who needed to escape the justice of the king’s law, if there really were such a thing. Balor Gesh was far to the north in the Empire of Oryt. But he had heard of some strife within the empire, currently making that a dangerous place for a tourist. And he was quite sick of dangerous places.
So that left west—Xerchi. Interesting place that, or so he’d heard. The city was so far from where he lived, he had never even met anyone from there. The people were allegedly brightly colored in purples, blues, and greens. Like the Gaen Sae, they were also a fortune-telling race and relied on bones and the entrails of animals to plan their festivities and activities. At one time, or so the history books said, the Gaen Sae and the Xerchians were the same race, but a great war had divided them. The argument was over a female that two princes desired. As a result, hoping to never repeat the pattern of fighting over a female, the Xerchians had a sexually open society, going so far as using sex as greetings.
Edgar rounded a corner and saw a man ambling toward him. The man was so dirty Edgar considered crossing the street lest the scent stay with him all day. Then Edgar noticed the man’s face.
Leon looked terrible. His face was covered in dust and dirt, even his lips and eyes. His hair was matted and intertwined with clods of earth, and his hands were dirty, the skin cracking.
Edgar stopped in front of him, and the two men looked at each other a moment without saying a word.
“Do I need to ask what happened?” Edgar asked.
“No, you do not. I’m here to accept your offer. Let us just begin with that.”
Edgar nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”
Leon followed Edgar to an inn that had a bath in the back beneath some suckle trees. Leon stripped without hesitation. He poured the warm water over his body and lathered up with oil and alkaline salt. His hair became smooth, and he slicked it back before bending down to wash his feet.
When he was through, the dwarf had some clothes—a pair of black trousers and a white loose-fitting shirt—waiting for him. Edgar had apparently visited a tailor while Leon dallied in the bath. Leon put them on along with a new pair of boots and sat down at a table across from the dwarf.
“What made you change your mind?” Edgar asked.
“That’s not of your concern. What is your concern is that you are to buy my property from Barthol today and deliver the deed by courier immediately.”
“Of course. You may come with me. We’ll do it as soon as you’re rested.” Edgar took a sip of his wine. “So what happened exactly?”
“I trusted a man I shouldn’t have.”
Edgar nodded, his eyebrows rising in understanding. “I’ve made that mistake several times myself. Perhaps consider it a lesson learned only at the cost of your valuables.”
Leon was silent, observing some of the other guests as they came outside to eat at the tables. “The Marauders live at Castle Night, and it’s said that Erebos only leaves the castle for special occasions.”
“That’s true,” Edgar said.
“Do you intend on the two of us breaking into Castle Night?”
“To be honest, I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I didn�
��t believe I’d actually find a warrior willing to help me.”
“We can’t do it alone.”
“No, we can’t. Should we travel the cities looking for mercenaries?”
“That’s a waste of time. Only a fool would take you up on your offer, and we have two fools right here. That’s plenty.”
Edgar grinned. “What do you suggest then?”
“I know someone. She’s not something you would expect.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s a witch. One of the most powerful in the realm.”
19
After gathering supplies, including a new long sword for Leon, the two men bought fresh horses and had a light meal. Then they paid Barthol a visit in his palatial estate outside the city.
The estate was little more than grasslands and hills with a home the size of a palace in the center. Slaves worked the fields around the house, and stables held some of the finest horses in the kingdom.
Leon and Edgar walked up the porch steps, and Edgar bravely went to the door and opened it. A slave girl looked up from her sweeping and ran into another room.
A moment later, a man came out, old and with white wisps of hair over his ears. “This is the property of Lord Barthol, master of the—”
“Shut up you old fool,” Edgar said. “Get me Lord Barthol. I have business to conduct with him.”
The man looked them over then disappeared into the body of the house. The slave girl returned but stayed far away and eyed them cautiously.
“You’re a pretty little dove, aren’t you?” Edgar said. “What’s your name?”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Slaves aren’t given names,” Leon said. “Have you never seen a slave before?”
“Dwarves are more civilized. How do you speak to them if they don’t have names?”