The Council of Blades n-5

by Paul Kidd

  Carefully hiding the bottle of soldiers' champagne, Luccio regarded his companion in puzzlement.

  "My dear Lorenzo-what on Toril are you doing now? You can't possibly entertain guests. We have a party to attend in half an hour!"

  Lorenzo raced about the apartment, dragging rugs across the worst of the scorch marks on the floor.

  "It's my patron. The one who gave me the money for all those chemicals. He's come to see my progress on my light lathe. The results will totally astound him. The device is an absolute, unqualified success!"

  "As are its explosions?"

  "That particular problem is now-relatively-under control." Lorenzo drew on some singed leather gauntlets and made his way to the door. "It is merely a tiny hiccup in the tube design. What are you doing now?"

  "Hiding." Luccio lifted up a curtain inside Lorenzo's workshop with a droll, professional aplomb. "A man who has spent an evening plying Sumbria's princess with hard liquor clearly has need of some intelligent paranoia. Since you lack the quality, I shall happily provide you with my own."

  Luccio faded out of sight behind a curtain, wiped his dagger blade with distilled venom from a hidden hipflask, and froze himself as still as death within his hiding place. His friend Lorenzo shook off the incident and bustled forward to open the apartment door.

  "Patrone! Blade Captain, what a pleasure it is to see you once again!"

  Blade Captain Gilberto Ilego, immaculate in a garb of harlequinade velvets, greeted the young nobleman with an easy bow.

  "My dear young man, I was so very pleased to hear from you. Will you permit me to present my colleague, Rufo, a commander of my guards."

  A squat, heavyset man with arms of knotted muscle stalked in over the threshold. Dressed in darkest black, his party clothing had quite clearly been lined with mail, not an unusual thing to find in a cautious man-of-affairs. Lorenzo greeted the stranger with an affable, excited wave and led the way into his inner sanctum.

  "Gentlemen, I am most pleased you could spare me the time. It will not take long, my lord Ilego. I merely wanted to show you just how far I have come, and to thank you for everything that you have done for me." Lorenzo led the way across a threshold strewn with soot, copper tubes, and nude sketches of a girl. "Come in and make yourselves at home."

  Ilego motioned to his companion; silent, dark and watchful, Blade Captain Ugo Svarezi walked through into Lorenzo's study and carefully scanned the hangings, doors, and walls. He passed his gaze across Luccio's hiding place, then turned his back and walked forward to examine Lorenzo's heavy brass machine.

  A central table held a most puzzling contraption. Two glass spheres held bubbling brews of deadly chemicals that were fed by pipes and faucets into a central combustion chamber. Screwed onto the bench top at the contraption's forepart, there stood a spindly frame which, though empty, seemed designed to secure some vital component or another. Above the hiss and seethe of mingling chemicals, the cheerful smell of cherries set the spectators strangely ill at ease.

  Lorenzo looked at his creation and beamed an innocent, self-satisfied smile.

  "Gentlemen, I present to you… the light lathe! The wonder of the age!"

  Scowling at the contraption, Ugo Svarezi spoke out for the very first time.

  "All this paraphernalia, just to drive a lathe?"

  Lorenzo took on a new dimension; suddenly the crisp, driven young inventor, he pointed out the salient parts of his machine.

  "Gentlemen, this machine works by using a combination of optical science, mechanical pumps, and explosive chemical reaction.

  "As you know, my lord, the Blade Kingdoms have established patent laws for inventions both magical and mechanical. Although the patent for this device is registered in my own name, I would never have completed the work without your confidence and assistance. Therefore, patrone, with your permission, I would like to modify the patents to include your own name. It will thus ensure a financial reward for all your infinite kindness."

  Ilego made a little face of scorn and waved the suggestion entirely away.

  "No, no, no-the machine is yours. I merely hope that I have given encouragement to the arts." The Blade Captain and his brooding colleague moved closer, inspecting the machine. "This is the complete mechanism?"

  "It is indeed, my lord. Now, let me explain the theory, and let me demonstrate the principals in operation."

  Lorenzo made to open up a curtain and provide more light, but for some reason every time he tugged at the drapes, the drapes tugged back. Abandoning the idea, the young nobleman dragged lanterns closer to his creation and guided his two guests about the simple machinery.

  "Essentially, sirs, I have discovered a series of chemicals which react violently when combined together. The light lathe has two of these chemicals stored here, in these glass spheres. By opening these valves, a precisely measured amount of each chemical is fed into these tubes, and squirted into the steel combustion chamber… here."

  Ilego stroked quietly at his chin.

  "Why are the spheres made of glass?"

  "The chemicals are extremely acidic, my lord. I have replaced my previous metal holding tanks with ones of noncorrosive glass."

  Lorenzo squatted down and traced the plumbing of the machinery for his two guests.

  "Now, when the two chemicals combine inside this chamber, they instantly give forth a violent blaze of light. It is this light that provides the working force of the machine.

  "The principal is similar to… eye spectacles… or a simple spyglass, only in reverse." Lorenzo drew diagrams on the white plaster walls with a piece of charcoal. "Instead of gathering distant light sources, and channeling them in to the eye, this lens gathers the scattered light from the chamber and concentrates it into a single, coherent beam.

  "And just as light from a lens can be used to burn paper or start a fire, so too can this machine's light be used to generate heat. Intense heat. Hot enough to melt through stone, or even steel!"

  Ugo Svarezi flicked a swift look from Ilego to the young inventor.

  "What is your lens made of? Glass?"

  "Oh, no, Sir Rufo, glass cannot withstand the intense heat of the combustion chamber." Wistfully removing a small white gem from his pocket, the youth squatted at Svarezi's feet to display the stone's qualities to his companions. "I have used a quartz crystal, which a gem cutter has polished into a smooth little lens. The lens is good for three, or maybe four seconds of operation-after which the stresses will shatter it clean through. A diamond would obviously be a better choice but, alas, the cost would be absurdly great."

  A demonstration was clearly in order. Lorenzo propped an inch-thick plate of steel in front of his machine, carefully placed the lens in its frame, then raced over to his desk to find a battered old helm. He donned a breastplate, lowered the visor of his helm and hung himself with wet leather sacks, signaling his associates to join him in crouching behind a heavy crossbowmen's pavis. The inventor reached out to hold two leather cords attached to his machine.

  Ilego looked down at him with some concern.

  "Is this device safe?"

  "Oh, quite safe!" Lorenzo exhibited the inventor's eternal, doomed optimism. "We shall use a quarter-second burst. Shield your eyes!"

  Lorenzo tugged at his two strings, then frantically ducked behind the shield.

  A brilliant white light cracked like lightning through the room-a brightness so intense it stung the skin like a desert sun. A whipcrack noise ripped through the air, and a stench of burning metal and stone heralded an evil cloud of steam. The observers scarcely had time to jerk with shock before the afterimages were dancing in purple spots across their eyes.

  Emerging from cover, Lorenzo first inspected his machine, and then firmly sealed the safety valves. Meanwhile, his two guests crept slowly toward the steel target plate and stared at it in awe.

  A tiny, perfectly circular hole had been punched clean through the metal sheet. At the other side of the room, a savage puncture more than a handspan
deep had been melted through the granite wall.

  Young Lorenzo stripped off his gauntlets and removed his helm.

  "The stonework always seems to burst. So does unseasoned wood. I think the moisture trapped inside them actually explodes, but perhaps one day I can make a less intense version of the beam for doing work with stone." With its straps untied, Lorenzo's breastplate thundered to the floor with a wild, unholy clang.

  "The lens governs the range, of course. A larger crystal would accept a higher power input, but I think you can see that this size is perfectly adequate to our needs." With a sigh of satisfaction at a job well done, Lorenzo passed a folio of plans and diagrams over to the other men.

  "It all seems to work tolerably well. Unfortunately, cost is still my insurmountable problem, my lord. The process is too expensive." The boy gave his apparatus an anxious little stare. "The chemicals are ruinously costly, and the crystals must be painstakingly made by hand. But the theory is sound! I'm sure that, given time, I can find cheaper sources of the needed materials…"

  "Here, I believe, it is now my turn to help." Gilberto Ilego extended a slim, well-manicured hand. "If you give me the formulas for the chemicals you desire, I shall search for other suppliers. They may have entirely common uses elsewhere in the world."

  The curtains quivered in dismay; Lorenzo ignored them and instead stared in delight at Blade Captain Ilego. Almost speechless with joy, the young man took his patron by the hand.

  "Oh, patrone! Your intelligence is a rare light in a darkened, superstitious world. Indeed, one man's chemicals might be another creature's footwash!"

  The formulas were scribbled out across a page, then added to duplicate plans of Lorenzo's machine and passed into Gilberto Ilego's arms.

  Bowing deeply, Lorenzo saw his guests to the door, then allowed them to fade out into the palace halls.

  Ilego led the way hastily down the corridor into a gloomy passageway. Shoving hard at a sally port, he burst into the feed stores behind the palace stables and disappeared inside.

  Svarezi closed the door behind them. The feed stores were utterly deserted; towering stacks of lucerne filled the air with cloying sweetness and dancing beams of dust. Here and there a rodent flitted across the floor. In the stables nearby, the grooms could be heard discussing the serving girls' charms. Gilberto Ilego peered through a gap in the wooden walls, cautiously retreated across the fallen hay, and pulled an amulet from about his neck and inspected the engravings on its face.

  "I detect no scrying spells. We can talk in safety."

  The two men drew close together, speaking in the harsh whispers of conspirators. Ilego almost shivered with excitement.

  "Did you see it? Did you see how far that machine dug into the wall?"

  "Is this what you hoped?"

  "Hoped?" Ilego feared his excitement had made his voice too loud, and forcibly checked his pace. "Never! I only intended to use the boy as a sleeper agent in Lomatra."

  Ugo Svarezi took a pace or two, clenching his hand about the handle of his poniard.

  "Even built into a carrying case, the machine is scarcely worthwhile. It does nothing that a master sorcerer could not do."

  "Then think of it built to a larger scale, brother! A much, much larger scale." Ilego whirled, excitement bringing fire into his eyes. "Think of it increased a thousandfold!"

  The courtyard outside the feed shed echoed to the sound of trumpets, boots, and hooves. Suddenly at ease, Ilego leaned against the walls and beckoned Svarezi to approach. Together they gazed through the wall boards and out into the central palace yard.

  An iron-bound coach drawn by a dozen horses had halted just before the palace fountain. Priests, sorcerers, footmen, and crossbowmen rode upon the wagon, while a hundred Mannicci cavalry formed close ranks to either side. Overhead, hippogriffs could be seen circling on guard, as the great prize of Colletro finally arrived.

  Cappa Mannicci was on hand to see the spoils come home. Clapping his hands with glee, he strode forward to watch his heralds receive the priceless relic from Colletran hands. As the last rays of sunlight lanced across the palace roofs, they struck against the Sun Gem and flooded the courtyard with light.

  It was a diamond so large that it would scarcely fit inside a man's clenched fist-a single flawless crystal of pure, unsullied hue. Hacked from the heart of an unaging, unliving emperor in decades long gone by, the Sun Gem had come to symbolize the free spirit of the Blade Kingdoms.

  To seize the gem was a symbolic triumph for Sumbria; its loss, an absolute humiliation to Colletro. Ilego felt Svarezi's hate, then turned and disarmed it with a smile.

  "Colleague-I believe that we can bring this age of sham wars to an end. It all depends upon how much your… your old loyalties interfere with your ambitions."

  Svarezi tugged his mail-lined gauntlets to a tighter fit.

  "My loyalties are to a vision of the future." The Colletran soldier swiveled glass-hard eyes toward his companion. "If we move, we must move now. I cannot risk spies or servants reporting a connection between us. Do you have a plan for the boy's heat weapon?"

  "Indeed, brother. And to use it, we need only place it into your good hands."

  Svarezi slowly leaned back against the wall; suddenly, the future spread before him like a bird with sable wings.

  "A weapon to build a new world."

  "Yes, brother." Ilego turned dark, delicious eyes upon the other man. "We can take it all. We need only agree to operate as partners."

  "Aye, brother. Partners…"

  For a while.

  Svarezi flexed black gauntlets and gazed over Sumbria's city towers, feeling plans slowly nestling within plans.

  Gilberto Ilego leaned against the flimsy wooden boards and gazed out into the courtyard once more. He tapped a straw against his teeth, then quietly indicated the procession of guards beyond.

  "Can you think of a way, colleague, to seize control of the Sun Gem tonight?"

  "The guards are mortal. The warding spells can all be overcome." Svarezi rested a hand on his sword hilt. "With enough gold to buy diversions, it can be done."

  "Good." Ilego pitched his straw away and quietly turned around to face the other man. "Then we may begin. I see no reason to confine two intellects such as ours to a single tiny city-state. I believe that the age of the Blade Kingdoms is over at long last.

  "We need only take the world's largest diamond as our own."

  Grooms approached the door. Ilego eased open the way into the palace corridors and allowed Svarezi to disappear into the gloom. Unlatching a service hatchway, the tall nobleman slipped quietly out into the palace stables and followed the chattering grooms to the palace yards.

  As the Sumbrian passed, a silly, feathery head erupted out from the gables overhead. Eyes staring, Tekoriikii watched the nobleman walk by, then whipped his neck about to stare in rapture at the giant gemstone being carefully guided inside the palace walls. The bird's beak dropped open, his feathers rose, and his neck pouch shivered with absolute desire.

  8

  "My lords, my ladies, and my holders of shares… I present Blade Captain Toporello of the city-state of Sumbria, his lady, and his retinue!"

  Ranked beside the ballroom door with her father and Lady Ulia, Miliana was pinned in place as part of the Manniccis' receiving line. Court functions always gave Miliana a sour temper; what sweetness remained was eroded by a headache, small talk, and the disdain of passing haughty maidens. Miliana adjusted her spectacles, felt her favorite cantrip settle firmly in her mind, and began to plan an evening of fun.

  "Miliana, dear-do smile more brightly!" Lady Ulia prodded a finger into her stepdaughter's ribs with force enough to puncture a trireme's hull. "A smiling woman radiates goodwill. A smiling woman radiates intelligence. What is more, a smiling woman can never look plain." Ulia licked at a handkerchief and wiped an imaginary speck from a disgusted Miliana's nose. "We are on display, my dear, so remember that the family reputation is in your hands!

  "Now
brace up-here comes the dwarven ambassador!"

  A dozen booted, hooded little figures with great icebreaker noses now surrounded the Mannicci family. A small creature bobbed happily up and down in front of Miliana, shaking her by the hand while the girl replied with her very best diplomatic smile.

  "Welcome to Sumbria, my lord. A pleasure to meet you at last."

  Ulia raised a weary brow and leaned over to murmur in Miliana's ear.

  "Actually, my dear, that is the ambassador's wife."

  "Oh!" Miliana flushed, polished her spectacles, and took a closer glance. "I'm sorry. The beards always fool me."

  Lady Ulia gave a dismissive wave of her fan.

  "Oh, that's quite all right, my dear. The only words of our tongue I've ever heard them speak are 'I'll have another round.' You'd be surprised how many social situations it can see them through."

  The herald sighted a new set of arrivals, and vigorously banged his tall oaken staff against the floor.

  "The delegation from the elven nations of the Yuirwood! I present the Lady Lonereed Silverleaf and her escort-of-the-year!"

  Miliana heard the announcement and felt her shoulders slump.

  "Oh, no. Father invited the elves?"

  Ulia settled herself in her dress like a peacock ruffling its plumes.

  "Aaaaah… their age, their beauty, and their nobility unsettles you?"

  "No-their utter lack of achievement!" Miliana watched a tall elven woman enter the hall. "You know, if I were eight hundred years old, I think I'd do more with my time than sitting about on my derriere singing tra-la-la-lally."

  "The songs must have a spiritual depth of which we are unaware, dear. Now do be a good girl and smile…"

  Miliana let her attention wander, only to have it rudely wrenched back into place by Lady Ulia's dulcet tones.

  "Miliana, my dear, this is Brightlightning Dragonsbane, escort to the elven lady and Swordmaster of the Hordes of the Tangled Trees."

  This title apparently belonged to a muscular, pompous elf dressed in chain mail and sporting a pudding-bowl haircut. The man sank into a pretentious bow and wetly kissed Miliana on the hand.