Lords of Deception

by Christopher C Fuchs

  Arthan realized his knowledge of Brugarn’s potential fate gave him more patience to listen to his bluster. Still, the more Brugarn talked the more Arthan was tempted to keep the warning about Garion to himself. But he remembered Maillard and knew what he would have done with the information.

  “Preposterous!” Sigbert shouted at the duke. “You’ve no right to upend centuries of tradition. My heirs take my lands and title, subject to the confirmation of the king. Not the Lord of Toulon!”

  “Desperate times, Sigbert…” Brugarn said with a sly grin. “And the king is less able to manage all the affairs of the kingdom. We must preserve Erech’s strength for the important…”

  Arthan noticed that the longer Brugarn talked, the more the other lord ministers turned to watch his own reaction. It was a few moments before Arthan recalled Waldemar’s words, that Maillard had been the elder minister. Arthan realized the others were accustomed to having Maillard open and adjudicate the council, as he had for the Empire Alliance.

  Arthan took a deep breath and stood from his chair. Brugarn stopped talking, shocked to be interrupted in such a way.

  “My lords, it is my honor to sit among you as a recently confirmed heir to a lord ministership. My father was taken far too soon from us, but I’m proud to fill his chair. Maillard’s broad shoulders carried more burdens than I can know, but I will do my best to serve as he did, for the good of all Donovan.” He retook his seat.

  “Welcome, son of Maillard,” Duchess Voufon said with a small clap.

  Reimvick patted his back and the others nodded their approval. All except Brugarn.

  “Time will tell whether you have your father’s fool wits or half wits,” Brugarn said.

  Arthan ignored the comment, tactfully acting as though he was adjusting his chair and had not heard him.

  “Perhaps we should discuss the Empire Alliance,” Henrey said. “I believe we are well positioned to benefit from trade no longer dominated by Almerian shipping.”

  “Good riddance to it,” Brugarn said. “The attempt to preserve the alliance was a fool’s errand,” he added, glancing at Arthan, “and its demise, a heavenly blessing.”

  “The absence of Lord Ferin speaks to the complexities of the aftermath,” Sigbert said. “The Calbrians are threatening to invade the islands in the Strait of Delnollen. If they take them from the Almerians, the Calbrians will control all trade in the Calbrian Sea.”

  Arthan knew this problem directly affected his own ports, but he kept his silence. It was a much bigger problem for lords with coastlines far longer than Delavon’s.

  “I think we can all agree to recommend to the king that a naval force should be sent to help Lord Ferin,” Reimvick said. “He faces the prospect of simultaneously fighting the Almerians and the Calbrians for islands that are rightfully part of Donovan, with fewer ships and sailors than is required for the task.”

  “Any opposed?” Henrey asked. “If not, I will broach it with the king.”

  “No you won’t,” Brugarn said. “I will discuss it with him. Now, the threats on our land borders. My brothers in the south say the Rugens regularly probe our defenses. What’s more, the rebels in Alpenon are becoming more aggressive. Aside from Calbria’s island grabbing, the Rugens appear to be the greater threat. Any opposed to the armies of Donovan marching to Heingartmer to put an end to all of this?”

  “You’re mad,” Voufon said.

  “Start a war with the Rugens?” Eperude asked.

  Everyone voiced their concerns at once, and few spared harsh words for Brugarn. Reimvick leaned over to whisper to Arthan.

  “This idea must have been planted by that warmongering Chaultion.”

  Arthan opened his mouth to respond, but Brugarn erupted, pounding on the table.

  “How many of you are agents of the Rugen emperor, then? How can the king’s own council attempt to deny him his holy right to defend our kingdom from these aggressors?”

  “The king is my father-in-law,” Henrey said. “I’m certain he does not want war. Nor should we.”

  “We wouldn’t gain anything from attacking them,” Eperude said.

  “The Rugens are trying to provoke us, that much is true,” Voufon said. “But that is their way. It has always been their way. They are driven by fear. Even in our condition, the Rugens know they would attack us at great cost.”

  “What condition is that?” Brugarn asked.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Voufon said, wagging a finger like a grandmother. “You attempt to steal this council’s influence at every turn, as you do the king’s. You deny him—and us—the ability to solve the many problems plaguing Donovan. To say nothing of your abuse of the treasury and the—”

  “Hold your asp tongue!” Brugarn shouted. “Is it a crime for a king to depend on his own blood kin for advice? But sowing divisions in the king’s court, now that is a treasonous—”

  “Am I not also the king’s kin?” Henrey asked.

  “And I the queen’s?” Voufon asked.

  “Blood kin,” Brugarn said. “And the sister of a drug-drunk queen is no sound counsel. Silence, all of you! I will discuss this Rugen matter further with the king and his generals.”

  “And who keeps up the queen’s steady supply of popaver, Brugarn?” Henrey asked.

  Lord Sigbert slowly rose from his chair. The big man paused until he had Brugarn’s attention, then smashed his goblet onto the table, spattering wine across it like blood.

  “Storm clouds circle above and wolves below,” he said. “The king’s mind rots, his counselors bicker, and riots sweep our cities and countryside. Will you not put aside your greed this one time? I stand for our common good.”

  Arthan shot up from his chair. “I stand with you, Lord Sigbert. We must unify in the face of many challenges.”

  Reimvick stood beside him, then Eperude. As Brugarn glared at Henrey and Voufon, Arthan realized that most of these rivals were the king’s relatives. The rest were houses of longstanding vassals who had survived successive Avaleau rulers.

  Sigbert walked toward the door. “Then, like my neighbor Ferin in the north, I have better things to attend to. When this council is ready to act, then perhaps I’ll return to Eglamour.”

  “He’s making a mistake,” Reimvick whispered to Arthan. “He’s as hot tempered as Brugarn. Leaving is easy, even gratifying. But staying to make a difference, hard as it may be, should be our path.”

  Arthan knew he was right. Maillard would never have abandoned a lords’ council. But Sigbert was gone. The lords looked at each other.

  “Shall we discuss the proclamation?” Arthan asked.

  “What is there to discuss?” Brugarn said, clearly happy with Sigbert’s departure.

  “Though I’m the most junior vassal among you, I’m aware that kings traditionally consult with this council prior to issuing proclamations.”

  “The king consulted with me,” Brugarn said.

  “You are not the council,” Voufon said.

  “You broke with tradition,” Henrey said.

  “None of you were here, and the need was urgent,” Brugarn said. “Must I wait until assassins have killed a few more of you, or me, before taking action?”

  “The proposed taxes are excessive,” Voufon said. “The cuts to the soldiery are unnecessary. And the ransoming of top Durgensdil rebels to replace money you wasted is beyond unwise. Your skull is empty.”

  “Careful, Voufon, you and your soldiers are with Toulon on the Rugen front,” Brugarn said. “And someone will need to absorb the initial blows. Anyway, they are not proposals. They are now the law of the land. Ignore the king at your own peril.”

  “You’re ignoring the riots across Toulon at your peril,” Eperude said. “Your proclamation also seems timed to give you new powers. This Marshal of Inquiry title will be yours, no?”

  “And the proclamation also provoked Rugenhav,” Henrey said. “You can’t simply order our enemies off the i
slands and away from the borderlands. They’ll see it as a threat.”

  “It is a threat, you mumbling fool,” Brugarn said. “We must protect what is ours. As for the new marshal, the king has yet to choose a worthy servant for what will undoubtedly be a burdensome and difficult role, but if asked, I would gladly serve.”

  “This is not the way of wise kings,” Reimvick said.

  “Then we should be glad the royal blood of the Reimvicks died out ages ago,” Brugarn said. “In fact, perhaps it’s not in the best interests of the Crown to have has-beens so close to the throne.” Arthan caught Brugarn’s glance, but he did not take the bait.

  “There is no shame in my house,” Reimvick said. “My forefathers ruled the Kingdom of Gidemond well during its short existence. In fact, it was our peaceful diplomacy that made the unification of Donovan possible. But I wouldn’t expect you to know such history.”

  Brugarn’s face burned red, but Reimvick continued.

  “Now, unless your objective is to see additional lord ministers leave this council, which is permitted by tradition, I suggest you stop hoarding the king’s decisions. As they are your war plans, I think you have the wits to reconsider. Toulon is large and wealthy, at least it used to be. But remember that you’ll need help from our ministries to defend Toulon after you and Chaultion wreck the peace.”

  Arthan looked at Reimvick, impressed. Everyone clapped while Brugarn stared a hole through Reimvick. Again Arthan found himself reconsidering warning Brugarn. He was having difficulty seeing the harm it would bring. The duke was divisive and dangerous.

  “Let us adjourn this council and consider what has been discussed,” Voufon said.

  “I second that,” Henrey said.

  “As do I,” Reimvick said, turning away from Brugarn’s silent stare.

  “My lords, I request your presence tonight at court,” Arthan said as everyone rose. “I have an important announcement that will be of interest to all of you.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Brugarn said. “You should be back in Rachard riding ponies and learning a wooden sword.”

  Arthan set his jaw but remained calm. “I am the Lord Minister of Delavon, Count of Bram, and head of the House of Valient. I will respect your position and expect the same from you. When I speak tonight, you’ll welcome the news more than anyone.”

  Arthan realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. He quickly turned toward the door, but Brugarn lurched for his arm.

  “The only thing I care to hear is when a whelp like you decides to return home. You do not know with whom you’re dealing.”

  “I look forward to your apology,” Arthan said.

  Brugarn laughed in his face. Reimvick firmly removed Arthan’s arm from Brugarn’s grasp, then took Arthan by the shoulder and led him to the corridor.

  “You shouldn’t have provoked him,” Reimvick said when they were alone.

  “That was not my intention.”

  “Whatever you intend to announce tonight is unlikely to impress Brugarn.”

  “Yes, of course…” Arthan silently cursed himself for his indiscretion. He wanted all the lord ministers to be present at court, but he regretted singling Brugarn out.

  Reimvick drew Arthan closer. “You know me as an addicted collector of rumor and news, young Arthan. I can smell a juicy secret. You can share it with your father’s old friend.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until court.”

  “Very well, I respect that. If it’s something that will make Brugarn squirm, it’s worth waiting for.”

  44. FETZER

  Thorendor Castle, Wallevet Ministry

  Flowertide, 3034

  Fetzer dipped the quill again, pausing to look at the flicker of the candle. It made him think of burning his uncle’s house down. He wondered how long his uncle suffered before dying, and hoped it wasn’t too short.

  …while our training continues at a rapid pace. I think I’ve convinced the old master that I’m best suited for this work. More than his other apprentices.

  Wall running is not as difficult as I first thought. It boils down to momentum, balance, and careful footing. And we were given grass-stuffed moccasins that mute our footfalls and make gripping the wall easier. Marlan also helped teach us how to throw tiny knives while running up a wall and how to grasp ledges to rest.

  After a week or so of constant training and laborious reading, Arasemis finally let us try some alchemy. We learned how to prepare some basic powders and feed them into drained eggs, just as the Naren-Dra did long ago. We also made Gallerlander stone knives treated with a solution that causes the onset of sleep. But still nothing about making my own flaming sword.

  I’ve hid the fact that I speak fluent Rugen thanks to all those lessons from the Sember family tutor when I was a child. Arasemis let us choose a language to study. Choosing Rugen means I finish my studies early, giving me more time in the training hall with Arasemis and Marlan, both of whom speak multiple languages.

  I’m sure I’m not fooling Rodel. He’s tried to coax more Rugen out of me, but I pretend not to understand him. It irks me that Arasemis brought him here just before my own arrival. The more students he brings in, the less time the old master will have to focus on teaching me.

  It’s my hope that we’ll be given another task soon. If Arasemis will not send me to Eglamour, then perhaps to the castle of a different lord minister. I very much want to put my new techniques to the test.

  I also hope it’s not too long before we kill a king—any king. I’m beginning to wonder if Arasemis enjoys all the lore and history of Candlestone more than keeping the flame alive with the blood of tyrants, as it has been kept alive through the centuries.

  I’m also suspicious of the master’s desire to replace kings with elected chieftains. What did elected chiefs do for the ancient tribes? They didn’t stop the Brintilians from conquering and colonizing Pemonia. They didn’t do anything.

  Nobles and kings should be overthrown, and nothing allowed to replace them. Their divine right, as they call it, is a sham, a clever ordering of men devised by an unjust god to divide people for his own amusement…

  45. MILISEND

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Flowertide, 3034

  “What about Lord Valient?” Regaume asked. “He’s one of the wealthiest. I heard he gave ten chests of gold to the king as tribute.”

  “He gave three chests,” Milisend said. “But, no, I don’t want to steal from him. Especially not while he’s here at the palace.”

  “Why not?”

  “He lost his father, Regaume.”

  “Well, it should be one of the lord ministers while they’re all here. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to waste.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Milisend said, “but you need to recognize how difficult the situation is for everyone here. Things have gone badly for Father and the kingdom as a whole.”

  “Kings and houses come and go, Mili. It’s not my concern, and it shouldn’t be yours.”

  “I’m a princess, Regaume.”

  “Not in your heart. You could be a master thief much earlier than most, if you’d only follow that path. Bagging the lord ministers’ valuables while they’re clustered in the capital will get you there.”

  “Half of them are my relatives. You know I don’t want to steal from them.”

  “What about Lord Reimvick? He’s wealthy and childless. His money will be used to build a cathedral or some other useless thing when he dies. Stealing from him is a gift to others, really.”

  “Why must my next target be a lord minister?”

  “I told you. They are the wealthiest and most powerful nobles of the kingdom. I’m the only thief among my circles to have stolen from a lord minister. This would be an accomplishment for you that would win respect among the thief bands.”

  “I’ve stolen from people in the palace before,” she said, “but things are
difficult now. If I was caught, with everything that is happening, it would embarrass Father at the worst time for him.”

  “You won’t be caught, Thimblegloves. You’re one of the best thieves I know. So, what is your decision?”

  Milisend sighed. “Lord Reimvick it is…” She hugged Regaume close and noticed a slight distraction. “What’s wrong?”

  “I must travel again.”

  “What? You just came back. Then you task me to rob a lord minister and leave again?”

  “One of my men was caught on the road to Ralmogard with loot from his heist. He’s in a prison there awaiting execution.”

  “Your band of men can’t go without you for once?” She tightened her arms around him.

  “I’m the head thief, Mili. Freeing him should not be difficult, but I’m the only one who will risk it.”

  “What about us? Me and you?”

  “Of course, Mili. But you’re not facing death. He needs my help.”

  “So I’m to sack Reimvick’s chambers alone?”

  Regaume nodded. “You’ll do perfectly well. Thimblegloves is ready for this. And I promise, when I return, that I’ll let you run away with me, once and for all.”

  Milisend smiled and tapped her finger on his cleft chin. “Oh, did I ask for that?”

  “Your heart desires it, even if your lips will not voice it.”

  “My heart is yours all the same,” she said. “Go to Ralmogard, but don’t be long.”

  46. ARTHAN

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Flowertide, 3034

  “My king, there is another subject I wish to discuss,” Tronchet said. “The Benrollen Company was recently the target of an attempted burglary. I believe she may have been—”

  “You are bringing this insignificant matter to the king again?” Brugarn said.