Duke of Minds (Master of Monsters Book 4)

by Stephen L. Hadley

  “It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d expect anyone to gossip about,” Leo said. “What have you heard? Anything might prove useful.”

  Petre shrugged. “Oh, the usual. Duke VanOrden is just a puppet of Sutherpoint. He’s secretly an elf in disguise. There’s no way he can defeat Count Grey, so he plans on using his slave army to slaughter the entire population of Ansiri. That sort of thing.”

  Leo stared at him, dumbfounded. And, slowly, laughter built within his gut until it spilled out.

  “I’m an elf?” he asked, chuckling into his fist. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  At last, a wry grin broke through Petre’s grimace. “Who knows? I doubt anyone with half a brain actually believes it.”

  “No, no. I’m curious now.” He glanced at Lucius and Nyssa before turning back to Petre. “How in the world would I hide the ears?”

  “It depends on who you ask.” Petre’s amusement was growing now. “Some say you have them trimmed down weekly. Others say that the Duchess is a secret practitioner of the black arts and uses her perverse enchantments to disguise your appearance.”

  Leo laughed again, harder. And this time, he was not the only one. Danvers and Nicolo were both laughing as well. Cirilla, Nyssa, and Lucius, on the other hand, appeared uncertain whether to laugh or be offended.

  “Petre, I’m making this your top priority,” Leo announced. “You absolutely must get to the bottom of this. If it turns out that my dearly beloved wife has been practicing sorcery behind my back, I simply must know.”

  Petre beamed.

  Cirilla, on the other hand, finally made up her mind whether to be amused or offended. She swatted the back of Leo’s head none too gently.

  Still grinning, Leo turned to Nicolo. The man was smiling. But, if the tension visible in his jaw was any indication, he was still not entirely comfortable sharing a table with an elf and a trow who, only a few short months ago, had been chained and beaten slaves in his inventory. He masked his discomfort well, however, and lifted his chin as Leo’s eyes fell upon him.

  “Suppose you’d like to know the arcane secrets of the aldermen cabal, eh?” he said. “Well, it seems that I’m the only one who’s arrived with new information to reveal.”

  “Reveal away.”

  “They’re not happy.”

  Leo waited, but Nicolo merely folded his hands over his stomach. Rolling his eyes, he gestured impatiently.

  “About?”

  “They’re politicians, Leo,” Nicolo reminded him, snorting. “They’re—well, we’re never happy about anything. But this recent… appropriation of the Isles’ slaves in growing less popular by the day. Shocking, I know. It seems that more than a few expected you were merely bluffing, trying to use the threat of a slave army as a way to force Grey to negotiate. Now they realize there might actually be a war. And, given how many aldermen and their chief donors rely on slaves for labor, well… let’s just say it’s a good thing the appropriations vote isn’t being held today.”

  Leo brushed his words aside with a dismissive gesture. “I don’t give a damn if they like it or not. I have my army. That’s all that matters now. Is there anything else?”

  “Such as?” Nicolo asked, spinning his fork distractedly between his fingers.

  “Such as proposals that might harm our efforts?” Leo said. He leaned forward, eyeing the man sternly.

  Nicolo set his fork aside and looked thoughtful. It was close to a minute before he spoke again.

  “No,” he said, at last. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not at the moment. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t being discussed. Technically, the chief alderman can call for an emergency vote on a proposal twelve hours after it’s introduced. He usually gives us a week so we can mull it over, accept bribes, that sort of thing. But if he knows it’s the sort of thing you’ll strongly oppose….” Nicolo trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

  “I understand.” Leo nodded, massaging his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose we should plan for the worst, just in case. You’ll inform me immediately if anything dire gets introduced?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Good. Thank you. Now, is there anything else?”

  There wasn’t. Or, at least, nothing of great importance. They spoke mostly of details. Captain Danvers offered updated estimates on the size and frequency of the planned food deliveries. Nyssa explained some minor changes to the Ministry’s guard schedules. Lucius again complained of the insufficient manpower available to train the conscripts. And, finally, Cirilla informed them of a variety of small inconveniences—delayed tithes, various squabbles between petty baronets, and an incident involving the Sutherpoint ambassador’s son at Ansiri’s less-reputable brothels.

  In short, it was exactly the sort of uneventful tedium Leo hoped his rule to achieve.

  They adjourned roughly an hour after the dinner had begun, each participant lingering long enough to exchange a bow and a few quick pleasantries before departing. Soon, it was only Leo, Cirilla, and Nyssa who remained.

  “That could have gone worse,” Cirilla mused. She eyed Leo’s wine glass enviously then jumped as she noticed Nyssa lingering by the door. "Yes? Is there something you need, Nyssa?”

  “I asked to speak with her,” Leo explained quickly. He hesitated, struggling to think of a convincing justification. “It’s… ah…”

  Evidently, Cirilla mistook his scrambling for embarrassment. She sighed, rolling her eyes and rising to her feet in a less than courteous fashion.

  “Once wasn’t enough for you?” she asked, harsh but teasing. “Well, you might as well tire yourself out. I don’t plan on waiting up for you.”

  Leo didn’t bother to correct her error. He remained seated, watching as his wife marched from the dining hall. She ignored Nyssa’s curtsey and all but slammed the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry, M-Leo,” Nyssa said, grimacing as she approached and took the seat Cirilla had formerly occupied. “I hope I haven’t caused a problem for you.”

  “You haven’t,” he said. “At least, not yet. What I’m about to ask you to do might.”

  Nyssa cocked her head, waiting.

  “Our conversation this morning, with Davin and Amos—how much of it did you hear?”

  “All of it,” she said. At his look of surprise, she grinned and tapped the tip of a pointed ear. “There’s a reason I don’t trim mine down.”

  “Seven hells, I bet that comes in handy,” he muttered. “Anyway. That’s good. It’ll save us time. So you heard what Nyssa said about why we can’t retaliate? About the instability?”

  “I did,” Nyssa admitted slowly. She studied Leo’s face, her expression guarded. “I’m guessing you’re of a different opinion?”

  “Not entirely. She’s right about the instability. The moment I start targeting nobles is the moment the city turns against us. It would be a mistake. But so is the message we send by doing nothing. If our enemies believe they can run amok with impunity, then we’re inviting them to do so again.”

  “Then… I’m not certain I follow. What are you asking me to do?”

  “I want you to get a message to Davin or Amos, either one. Tell them I want the men responsible to be tailed and observed. If they get the chance, they’re to interrogate a single one of the culprits and make an example of him. Only one. So it had better be quite the example.”

  “As you wish,” Nyssa said. She smiled grimly then hesitated. “But, if you don’t mind my asking, why kill just one of the culprits? If it’s information you’re after, you could easily question all four of them.”

  “True. But this way, the other three will spend the next month looking over their shoulder. If they’re the sort to brag about a job before doing it, I’m willing to bet they’re the sort to talk about what happened to their friend.”

  “And the noble? Once he finds out that you killed one of the men he hired….”

  Leo grinned, wide enough to show his teeth.
r />   “I know,” he said. “That’s the point.”

  Chapter Five

  True to her word, Cirilla did not wait up for him. She had changed into her nightgown and crawled into bed by the time Leo returned to their chambers. Fortunately, it appeared that Brigit had straightened the disheveled sheets; they were tucked neatly around his wife’s waist as she read from a small, leather-bound book. An unlit candle rested on the table beside her.

  Cirilla smiled wanly at Leo’s entrance and shut her book but did not set it aside.

  “That didn’t take long,” she said.

  Leo was about to correct her, then caught himself and said nothing. It was odd to feel like an intruder in his own chambers. He roamed the edge of the room for a moment, hunting for something to say or do to distract him. Finding none, he sighed and seated himself on the edge of the bed next to his wife’s feet.

  “You’re going to bed already?” he asked.

  “Disappointed?” she teased. Then, more kindly, she added, “I will soon. You should too. I doubt either of us got much sleep last night.”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  A hint of a blush crept into Cirilla’s cheeks. Which, given the effort she made to keep from smirking, only served to make her more charming in Leo’s eyes. He wanted to kiss her, but the way she stared purposefully at the closed cover of her book made it clear such a thing would be unwelcome.

  “True,” she said. “But you’re not pregnant. You’re free to prowl the halls at all hours. I, on the other hand, need sleep. It’s for the good of the Isles, after all.”

  He snorted. “Oh? How do you figure?”

  Cirilla stared at him like he’d suddenly sprouted an ambrosian’s horns. Setting her book aside, she peeled back the blankets and laid a hand over her waist. Though it was still much too early for her to be displaying any outward signs of her pregnancy, the significance of the gesture was obvious.

  “This child will eventually be the Duke,” she said slowly. “Or Duchess. And I don’t intend to do anything to risk its wellbeing.”

  Leo nodded. Though it was hard not to take her words as an attack, he could at least appreciate the sentiment behind them. Besides, it was his child too, however hard it was to conceptualize at the moment. And to that end, he could not afford to be selfish.

  He could, however, still poke fun.

  “Anything to risk its wellbeing?” he said. “Like get caught up in a war?”

  He’d intended the words as a harmless joke, but Cirilla’s smile vanished in a heartbeat. She sighed, tossing her book onto the bedside table and sliding down beneath the covers until they covered her to the neck.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Good night, Leo.”

  Leo opened his mouth to apologize, but the words refused to come out. He couldn’t understand why his quip had prompted such a visceral reaction. Everything they were doing, every action they took was for the express purpose of ensuring such a thing never happened! Surely Cirilla had understood that, hadn’t she? Why was she being unnecessarily difficult?

  He swallowed his growl and stalked to the opposite side of the bed. The room was not quite dark yet, but the sunlight streaming in through the overhead window was purpling rapidly. He undressed silently, climbing into bed without even a glance in Cirilla’s direction. A part of him wanted to roam the halls as usual. But somehow, doing that felt as though it would be admitting defeat. Instead, he lay there, back turned and his eyes narrow.

  It was a long time before he fell asleep.

  When the morning arrived, it found Leo dozing alone in an empty bed. That much wasn’t particularly surprising. What did surprise him was Nyssa’s arrival a few minutes after he’d first stirred. She rushed into the bedchamber without even bothering to knock.

  “Leo!” she exclaimed. “Davin just sent a runner! The—”

  Her voice faltered. Face flushing at the sight of him still abed and the realization of what she’d just done, she retreated hastily toward the door.

  “Sorry!” she yelped. “I, uh—I didn’t think that…”

  “Nyssa,” he said, more sharply than he felt. “It’s fine. What is it?”

  The trow swallowed hard, fidgeting and taking a deep, rather hasty breath.

  “Davin sent a runner,” she repeated. “The noble who hired them is Baron Rudd.”

  “Good. I’ll assign a few men to watch—”

  “There’s more,” she continued breathlessly. “Davin says it looks like he’s planning to flee. His servants have been ferrying belongings to the harbor all morning.”

  “Shit,” Leo hissed. He leaped from the bed and snatched up his clothes from the night before. They were slightly wrinkled but looked fairly presentable, all things considered. “Does Cirilla know?”

  Nyssa nodded. “She knows. She’s already sent for the Watch. She’ll meet you in the ante.”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed as he crouched to pull on his boots. No doubt Cirilla would have harsh words for him once this was over. But, for now, she was doing what needed to be done. He could expect nothing more.

  Straightening, he tugged his left boot into place and took off at a swift jog. Then, as he passed Nyssa in the doorway, he paused, turned, and kissed her deeply. The trow squeaked in surprise at the suddenness of it, but her eyes were aglow by the time he drew back.

  “Well done,” he said. “Remind me to reward you later.”

  Nyssa merely grinned. But, judging from the excitement her smile held, Leo had no doubt she would do as he’d asked.

  ***

  Cirilla refused to meet Leo’s eyes as they departed the Ministry. It wasn’t for lack of trying. But each time he strode forward or turned to speak with her, he found her attention fixated elsewhere. She whispered to one of the guards accompanying them, flipped purposefully through the folio of papers she held, or simply ignored him outright.

  Growling under his breath, Leo set his jaw and stopped trying.

  They were joined by a sizeable cohort of some thirty watchmen as they reached the edge of the docks. And for once, they were led by a tall, raven-haired man Leo actually recognized.

  “Macnair,” he called, waving the captain forward.

  “Your Excellencies,” the man replied. He offered Leo a salute then gave an awkward, walking bow to Cirilla. “I hear there’s trouble?”

  “There may be,” Leo admitted. “How much did Cirilla tell you?”

  “Not much. I only received her message a few minutes ago.”

  Leo smiled. He’d been impressed by Macnair from the moment he’d met the man in the Duke’s formal chamber a few weeks earlier. That the captain had been able to respond immediately with so many men spoke well of his leadership. Not that the man needed Leo’s esteem; he wasn’t the third-highest ranking officer in the Watch because of his good looks.

  “We’re here to detain Baron Rudd,” he explained. “I’ve been informed that he is responsible for much of Ansiri’s recent troubles, and it appears he’s planning to flee the city.”

  If the idea of detaining a nobleman bothered Macnair, the captain gave no sign of it. He nodded curtly then turned and barked an order to his men.

  “As you wish, Excellency,” he said. “The Watch is yours to command.”

  “Thank you.”

  Even though Leo now owned close to a third of the buildings and bondsmen, the docks proved a veritable maze. He slowed, allowing those with more experience to chart a path through the winding avenues and warehouses. They did so dutifully, though the marching of so many armed and uniformed men drew stares from the longshoremen. Fortunately, it was early enough that the streets were not yet crowded.

  It was not until he’d caught his first glimpse of the harbor through an open warehouse door that Leo found Cirilla at his side. She slipped an arm around the crook of his elbow, pulling him close.

  “You went behind my back,” she muttered. It was not a question.

  Leo sighed. He wanted
to look at her, to try and deduce some hint from her no doubt guarded expression, but kept his eyes alert and forward-facing.

  “I did,” he confessed, choosing his words with care. “Just a little bit. I asked Davin to keep an eye on the men and requested the name of the nobleman who hired them. I didn’t expect Rudd to flee though.”

  Cirilla was silent for a moment then gave a small, almost perfunctory nod.

  “At least you’re careful when you betray me,” she said.

  Leo inhaled sharply. The jab stung far, far worse than he’d expected, and he swallowed hard before replying.

  “I never meant—” he began.

  “It’s the Watch!” came a loud, frightened cry from a man some thirty yards off.

  The man who’d spoken up was gone before Leo had a chance to look for him. But it hardly mattered. Macnair’s men drew their cudgels and hurried forward at a speedy, organized trot, leaving Leo and his guards behind. And, by the time they’d followed the watchmen around the appropriate corner, the whole affair was practically over.

  Baron Rudd and his coterie stood on a wide, uneven pier, cornered between Macnair’s men and a sleek, anchored barge. The baron himself was at the center of the throng, wearing a look of indignant resignation. At his side, a well-dressed woman whose brown hair was just beginning to gray clutched his arm. The rest of the multitude looked to be servants mostly, though a few sturdier figures stood between them and the watchmen, gripping half-drawn sabers. Their faces paled as Leo marched into view.

  “Baron Rudd,” he called. “I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of your company.”

  The baron flinched at the sound of his name but did not otherwise move. He murmured something, soft enough that Leo had no chance of hearing it. He doubted even the servants nearest to the man could have overheard it. But whatever he said had a dramatic effect on the woman at his side. She stiffened, shook her head urgently, and clung to his arm tighter than before.