Lords of Deception

Home > Other > Lords of Deception > Page 3
Lords of Deception Page 3

by Christopher C Fuchs


  4. MARLAN

  Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry

  Midspring, 3034

  Marlan shook his head. “I could have done better, Master. I was careless.”

  “Nonsense,” Arasemis said.

  “I didn’t intend to blind the king’s courier. We’re lucky he was well enough to make it to Eglamour to convey what happened.”

  “You went in and came out undetected. You eliminated Raymond. Nothing else matters. Concentrate on your studies and training again, until the next task.”

  Marlan wanted to ask what the next task would be, and when. But he had learned that Arasemis only provided details when everything was prepared. As Marlan sat down to eat, he noticed the place was too quiet. “Where are Bertwil and the others?”

  Arasemis looked up from his scrolls. “They have begun a new task. It begins in Barres Ministry, and then they are bound for Leauvenna.”

  “Are they ready for a mission without me?”

  “Individually they are not as talented as you, Marlan. But together they should be fine.” Arasemis returned to his reading.

  Marlan occupied himself with an ancient Naren-Dra alchemical text while he ate. He loved all the harvest charts and ingredient tables. The mixture sequences and formulas. And the peculiar glyph writing of the Naren-Dra. Marlan slipped a hand into his tunic, reaching for his alchemy belt. He pulled out a small, soot-dusted egg and held it up to the candlelight.

  “I’ve told you before to empty your pouches and belt downstairs before coming up,” Arasemis said without looking up. “Particularly the shroud eggs.”

  “I wanted to tell you that these did not work as quickly this time. The lord minister took at least a minute to choke. And he didn’t vomit.”

  “If you shot a dart in his throat he likely wouldn’t,” Arasemis said. “Especially if you didn’t mix in enough toad vinegar.” The master stood and plucked an empty glass jar from a shelf. He filled it from the water pitcher and set it before Marlan. “Drop it in.”

  They watched the surface of the water cloud as the soot washed off the egg. Arasemis jabbed his knife into the egg, and black powder surged out into the water like webbed hands. Then it congealed and fell to the bottom of the jar while tiny white granules floated to the top.

  “You see?”

  “I needed more toad skins for the vinegar,” Marlan said.

  Arasemis nodded. “And be patient with the distilling. It is one of the most important conversion methods of chemina arcana. Slowly feed the powder into the hollow eggs when you’re sure it’s completely dry.” Arasemis flipped through the Naren-Dra alchemy book. “There—‘Death should occur within one minute or less. Good vomiting and itching should be shorter still.’ Now, go down to the laboratory and empty your belts. Refill them and a second set with our standard poisons, incendiaries, and illusories. Put it all in the carriage, then come back so we can discuss the next task.”

  “Yes, Master Arasemis.”

  Marlan went down to the large room hidden beneath the floor of the great hall that served as the laboratory. Shelves from floor to ceiling were crammed with every size and shape of bottles, jars, alembics, canisters, and other vessels made of glass, ceramic, stone, iron, and wood. There were two large hearths hung with cauldrons and numerous workbenches strewn with tools and leftover raw ingredients.

  He walked to his worktable and carefully removed the bottles from the belts under his tunic, then unstrapped the belts. He glanced at the barrel in the corner of the room. Unable to resist, he walked over and peered at the hilt of a sword resting on the lip of the open barrel. The whole blade was submerged in a shimmering solution.

  “Unchanged, damn…” he muttered. It wouldn’t be ready in time for the next task. He visually inspected the sachets of stones hanging in the solution. Particles were slowly melting out of the sachets, falling along the blade and resting on the barrel’s bottom.

  Marlan went back to the shelves and filled his belts with everything he would need. He did the same for Arasemis’s belts, then stuffed it all into the pack. He carried the pack to the stables and placed it in the carriage, his mind still on the sword. When he returned to Arasemis he found the master poring over a map.

  “You didn’t touch it, did you?” Arasemis asked without looking up.

  “No. But it looks the same as when we put it in.”

  “Patience. It’s worth waiting for.” Arasemis pointed at a small blot on the map, east of Thorendor Castle. “We leave tonight for Delavon Ministry, to a free city called Mordmerg.”

  “We?” Marlan was surprised. The master rarely left Thorendor.

  “We’ll go by carriage, disguised as merchants, to meet with a group of criminals called the Blackhoods. They fancy themselves protectors of Mordmerg’s free city status, which they think is threatened by Lord Minister Maillard Valient. But the Blackhoods rob their own people because there is no actual threat to the city…yet.”

  “I don’t understand. We’re going to meet with petty thieves in a neighboring ministry? I’m sure Vorrault has thieves if you want to hire—”

  “Listen and try to follow. When you killed Raymond it disrupted his ongoing negotiations to preserve the Empire Alliance. Maillard is likely to continue those negotiations. The vast wealth and skilled soldiers of the Valients make doing a task against Maillard more difficult. We’re not going to do things as we normally would.”

  “So the Lord Minister of Delavon is our next target.” Marlan nodded with satisfaction. “Why don’t you let me creep into his castle and do it myself? I can easily get past his—”

  “He is not in Rachard, he’s in Eglamour. He’s too well protected, Marlan, even on the road. If Bertwil and the others were here, it would be possible. But it doesn’t matter, because I have a better plan.”

  “What could be better than killing another lord minister?” Marlan asked.

  “Quiet and follow what I’m saying. Instead of directly attacking Maillard, we’ll encourage a revolt against him in Mordmerg, not too far from his capital in Rachard. Like all the free cities, Mordmerg is an enclave within Maillard’s lands but under Almerian influence. The Blackhoods are there and itching for a fight, which we’ll help arrange. After the revolt, the Donovards and Almerians will blame each other.”

  “I see,” Marlan said. “Donovan and the Almerian Confederation will be at each other’s throats, more than they already are. We’ll exploit the weakness of the Empire Alliance.”

  Arasemis nodded. “If Maillard becomes the negotiator between alliance members, trouble in Mordmerg will put him in a difficult spot—if we can get the Blackhoods to do what we want. My hope is that they’ll cause enough problems that Maillard himself will go to Mordmerg when he returns from Eglamour. I doubt he’d bring a large force so as not to provoke the Almerians in the city. That will give us an opening to assassinate him.”

  “Then the alliance falls and the Pemonian kings are at each other’s throats, giving Candlestone room to thrive,” Marlan said. “I like this plan. But can I kill Maillard myself, or at least manage the Blackhoods solo?”

  Arasemis shook his head. “The leader of the Blackhoods, a man named Navarron, is a skittish fellow. I suspect he is an agent of the Almerians, but I can’t be sure. I had some dealings with him years ago. Navarron will remember me, but he wouldn’t trust you if I sent you alone. We’ll meet him together, then you’ll stay in Mordmerg to carry out the plan.”

  “If this works, will we do the same in the other free cities?”

  “It probably wouldn’t be difficult, especially if the alliance falls and the Donovards pillage the free cities. But we have too much to do. After Mordmerg, our focus must be on the king, his most powerful supporters, and the full resurrection of Candlestone.”

  “I’ll ready the horses,” Marlan said.

  5. MILISEND

  Near Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Midspring, 3034

  “Then run aw
ay with me.” He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek.

  “You know I cannot.”

  “Oh, Mili. You live the life of a thief. You meet me in the woods like this. But you can’t come away with me forever?”

  Milisend pulled the soft blanket up to her chin. “Like your jewels, you’d lose interest in me once you have me to yourself, Regaume.”

  “You are a gem I would pocket for life,” he said. “Come with me. We will steal anything you wish, from anyone. The tiaras of the hundred wives of the Ovelian Emperor. The scepter of the Martinus in Almeria. We could take an entire Austveede ship of electrum, if you wish.”

  She snugged the blanket up to her nose, considering the offer.

  “Is that a yes?” Regaume asked.

  “Silence is not a yes.”

  “My heart is but the plaything of a princess…” he said.

  “No one has pity for such a lament.” She smiled.

  “Still, I must have your answer.”

  “Again, I cannot leave. You know Father has gotten worse. The stress upon his mind, the fitful indecision, the influence from many dark quarters…”

  Regaume turned away from her with a theatrical sigh.

  “He has the world on his shoulders…” she insisted.

  “The world, Mili?”

  “You know what happened to his lord minister in Wallevet. Father keeps a hard face in court, but privately he’s depressed, downtrodden. Mother avoids him. Only I can—”

  “Mili, if I were a spy, the king’s poor health might be valuable information.” Regaume grinned with eyebrow raised.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Anyone who attends court can see it. His lengthy blank stares and bouts of anxiety. Uncle Brugarn speaks more and more on his behalf. The storm of intrigue and ill health that brews around the king is hardly a secret worth paying for.”

  “Then escape it all. Come with me.”

  “I want to, Regaume, but I must stay and help him.”

  “I admire your love for your father, though I am jealous of it. But I wish you would run away from the royal life. Find your freedom in the thrill of thievery. I haven’t taught you everything yet, you know.”

  Milisend raised an eyebrow. “I’ve surpassed you, and you know it.”

  “Really? Then why is that pesky chief magistrate Tronchet on your trail, Mili?”

  She laughed. “He has yet to catch me and I’ve always denied his accusations.”

  “Then hear my final plea, Thimblegloves…”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Every good thief needs a name. And…oh, what’s this?”

  She tried to hide her smile with the blanket. “Don’t…”

  Regaume reached for his jacket and pulled a silver thimble from the pocket. He held it up with a smile.

  “I don’t bother with thimbles anymore,” she said. “I felt so guilty about those first thefts. I had to leave them a little something.”

  “I remember. Those poor, unfortunate, wealthiest of victims. Even Tronchet was amused with the swap. In truth, I thought it was brilliant. A symbol of your fearsomeness: stolen jewelry replaced by a humble thimble.”

  “Or the symbol of a courtly life I do not want?”

  “Thimblegloves, if you come away with me I will teach you the advanced evasion techniques…” Regaume rolled over and gently pinned her to the moss-covered ground. “You see? You have much still to learn.”

  She smiled and pulled her hand up, dangling his coin purse. “Seems you need help in detection.”

  “Let me search around a bit…”

  She giggled but the face of her distraught father returned to her mind.

  Regaume sensed it. “Pick the locks and remove the chains that entangle your life,” he said. “Abandon the life of a princess.”

  “It’s my father that I cannot abandon, Regaume. Nor you. I must try to help him.”

  “Then I will wait until your answer changes. For now, I will keep the name of Thimblegloves a secret in my heart.”

  “Thank you.”

  6. ARTHAN

  Rachard Castle, Delavon Ministry

  Midspring, 3034

  “What is it?” Arthan asked.

  A letter from your father, Medoff said. “His messenger said he’s already on the road by now.”

  Arthan opened the letter.

  My son,

  I will return to Rachard much sooner than I expected. The king has ordered me to continue Raymond’s negotiations in earnest. I am to host the foreign ambassadors in Rachard. A few of them will arrive with me. Ensure that we are prepared to receive what will be a large assembly, perhaps the last for the Empire Alliance.

  Have General Medoff introduce you to Serdot. It’s time you put down the strategy books and practice real diplomacy and other, more discreet, methods of politics.

  Maillard Valient

  Eglamour

  Arthan let the parchment fall from his hands. He leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh.

  “Reading it seems to have aged you,” Medoff said. “What does he say?” Arthan handed him the letter. The general’s bushy black mustache locked in a frown. “This will not be pleasant.”

  “How can this be anything but dangerous for Delavon?” Arthan asked.

  “I will call up extra men from your father’s vassals. The castle will be doubly secured and I’ll increase the patrols in the city. We should inform Countess Iserenne so she may escort your father from the western border. And I recommend sending word to Count Dardanon in the east so he can watch the ports and inform us when new ships arrive.”

  “All of that sounds fine, Medoff. But why must Father remain so loyal to such a weak king?”

  Alderman Alfrem cleared his throat and leaned up to the table. “As one of the twelve lord ministers, Maillard is oath-bound to serve the kingdom and advise the Crown. Most of the ministers do not favor King Erech but they must support his policies or forfeit their lands and titles.”

  “But the Valients were kings once,” Arthan said. “Father does not talk about it much, but surely we did better than the House of Avaleau.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Alfrem said with a nod. “Your father serves the king.”

  “Do you think the alliance will crumble?” Arthan asked, turning to Medoff.

  “War and defense are my domain, my lord. I can only guess at the minds of politicians.”

  “It’s all but a certainty,” Alfrem said. “What’s more, they’ll blame your father for it, regardless of whether they supported the alliance in the first place.”

  “Then we must prepare Rachard for the worst,” Arthan said, stroking his short beard. “Aside from marshalling more guards, how can we learn what to watch for?”

  “We can secretly listen to the ambassadors in their private chambers,” Medoff said.

  “And thus aid your father’s negotiations,” Alfrem said.

  “It’s easily done,” Medoff continued, glancing at Alfrem. “We have a company of special scouts, widsemers, skilled in such things. They can pose as servants and such. Serdot is among them.”

  “Good. If these ambassadors are soon to become our enemies, we’d do well to know them better. Tell me more about this Serdot fellow.”

  Medoff turned to the alderman. “Sir Alfrem, might I speak privately?”

  “Of course,” Alfrem said, excusing himself with a curt nod. When he was gone, Medoff continued.

  “I’m glad your father mentioned Serdot. If he hadn’t, I would have, given the sensitive situation we’re about to find ourselves in.”

  “Well, go on. Who is he?”

  “He is a servant of your father, only a little older than you. Our best widsemer. But whereas most widsemers prefer to work alone in the woods or on the road, Serdot has a knack for people. He’s good at learning the secrets they hold so dear and persuading them to do things they normally wouldn’t.”

  “A spymaste
r so young?”

  “I will introduce you when he returns from…wherever he goes. He’s not my sort, mind you. I prefer soldier to soldier on the battlefield. But your father’s adept use of shadow men has proven to me that they have their place.”

  “Very well, I look forward to meeting Serdot. In the meantime, make our necessary preparations for the assembly. We don’t have long.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  The arrival of a courier interrupted Medoff’s departure. “My lord, an urgent message from Count Golbane. Trouble in Mordmerg Free City.”

  “Mordmerg?” Medoff repeated in disbelief.

  Arthan opened the letter.

  Cousin Arthan,

  I regret to inform you that there has been a disturbance in Mordmerg. My knights have secured the city but it has been difficult to determine what happened. Fires were set in a dozen places in the city over the past week, but they were put out before posing much threat to the city.

  I will write to you again when we’ve caught the culprits.

  Count Golbane Valient

  Mordmerg

  “This cannot be coincidence,” Arthan said, handing the letter to Medoff. As he waited for the general to read it, Arthan realized he did not know much about Mordmerg. It was only a day-and-a-half ride away from Rachard.

  “It probably is merely coincidence,” Medoff said. “Golbane will handle it. We should keep our focus on the arrival of the ambassadors.”

  “But what if it is related?”

  “I don’t see how it could be, given Mordmerg’s own troubled past. If someone wanted to sabotage the Empire Alliance they would set the fires here in Rachard.”

  Arthan pursed his lips, but let it go.

  ---

  Arthan was up on the tallest ladder in the library, searching the forgotten volumes near the ceiling, when he heard her voice.

  “Seems the world is coming to Rachard in mere days, yet you’re searching for books to read?”

 

‹ Prev