Lords of Deception

by Christopher C Fuchs

  “There is no better means of delivering a mixture to the enemy at a short distance that is also discreet and silent,” Arasemis said. “The Naren-Dra developed the technique. Draining the eggs takes practice and is time-consuming, but not difficult.

  “Soot-painted eggs are silent and usually unseen. They break only when needed, if you’re careful. You can carry many of them in specially designed pouch belts like this one.” Arasemis pointed to Marlan’s belt on the worktable. “Depending on the size of the egg—bird, quail, chicken, duck—you can fit up to two dozen eggs in one belt. Marlan usually wears two belts, while Garion wore one because he preferred throwing arrows. The choice comes down to skill, preferences, and the tools required for the task.”

  “Can we make poisons?” Fetzer asked.

  “Novices start with illusory powders,” Arasemis said. “They are harmless, such as cloaking and escape smokes, and will help you hone your technique before mixing things that can kill you. Remember this one truth about the arcanae: Mastering aerina is unlikely to kill you, but chemina is dangerous to you and machina is dangerous to many.”

  “Can we make poison eggs after illusory eggs?” Fetzer asked.

  “There is more to alchemy than poison, my eager student. There are many branches you must learn. The subtlety of candle alchemy. The necessity of medicine. The strength of alloys. And the revelatory advantage of telescope crystals, just to name a few. You have many years of study ahead of you at Thorendor, including tasks you’ll complete on the outside, before you can hope to master chemina arcana.”

  “Years?” Fetzer scoffed. “The crowned heads of Pemonia should have shorter spans to live!”

  “The work of Candlestone has been a thousand-year struggle,” Arasemis said. “These methods have been carefully preserved and handed down through the ages because they are effective and worthy of your time to learn them.”

  “If machina arcana is more lethal to more people, we shouldn’t waste time with anything else,” Fetzer said.

  Arasemis raised his voice. “You’ll recall my lesson about the failure of many peoples to master the advanced methods because they hadn’t mastered lesser ones first. You must have patience.”

  Fetzer backhanded the corked flask holding the ditch fume. It crashed to the floor and a searing vapor arose. Arasemis and the students quickly put on their masks. Arasemis shouted something, and Rodel heard the breaking of stone. A white cloud filled the room as Arasemis ushered them out of the laboratory.

  They stumbled out into the corridor, and Arasemis closed the door behind them. “Is everyone unharmed?” he asked.

  “What was that?” Fetzer asked.

  “A neutralizing agent called cloudcarry. If only I had one for your temper!”

  “Will the laboratory be damaged?” Rodel asked.

  “All will be well after a few hours and a little ventilation,” Arasemis said. Then his voice turned sharp. “As for you, Fetzer, you’ll be doing extra laps around Thorendor for the next week.”

  68. MILISEND

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Bloomfade, 3034

  “But it’s been too long now, Rosellen. Something has happened to him.”

  “Regaume knows how to care for himself, Princess. Don’t assume the worst.”

  Milisend walked among the flowers and herbs, taking in their delicate scents. She lacked the motivation to try another jewel heist since Serdot had caught her in Reimvick’s apartment. It was not as much fun without Regaume. She felt empty and longed for him. Then an idea struck her.

  “Rosellen, what if I reported him missing to Tronchet?”

  “Then the chief magistrate will know you’re a thief for sure.”

  “He already knows, and there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. But Tronchet may know something. He may have heard whether something has happened in Ralmogard that might involve Regaume, since that was his destination.”

  “Yes, but Tronchet will surely use your admitted liaison with Regaume against you with the king or Brugarn.”

  “It won’t come to anything,” Milisend said. “Regardless, I cannot bear not knowing what happened to Regaume. Come with me. Tronchet is probably at his prison tower office.”

  The pair rushed through the palace toward the fortified tower that served as an armory and prison. Milisend bypassed the magistrate’s guards and stepped into Tronchet’s empty chamber.

  “I’m sorry, Princess Milisend,” said his assistant. “He left to look for you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “He had something important to discuss with you. I must let him know that—”

  “When will he return? How long has he been gone?”

  “He just left. My apologies, Princess.”

  “I’ll wait then.”

  “The chief magistrate may not—”

  “I said I’ll wait.”

  Milisend and Rosellen sat in the nearest chairs, and the assistant tried to return to his work. Satisfied with herself, Milisend glanced around. Tall ledger books filled the dark wood shelves, doubtless full of innumerable investigations, court laws, criminal records, and the like. Out the window was the prison tower’s twin, which held the king’s private quarters and the treasury. She thought of her father and mother, but quickly pushed them from her mind.

  Milisend recited to herself what she would tell Tronchet about Regaume. She would not go into details of their relationship, of course, but she would have to make clear to him that Regaume was precious to her. Should she tell Tronchet she loved Regaume, to help persuade the magistrate? Perhaps it would not be necessary. Tronchet was not a stupid man. Obsessive and sometimes doddering, but not a fool.

  If he had useful information, as she hoped, should she swear Tronchet to secrecy? Would he try to dissuade her from seeing Regaume again? The questions continued to swirl in her mind until the magistrate appeared.

  “Ah, yes, Sir Tronchet,” the assistant said, rising from his chair. “May I present Princess Milisend, who has come to visit you.”

  Tronchet was surprised. “I was looking for you…”

  “I wish to speak with you privately,” she said.

  The magistrate shooed his assistant away, then looked at her cautiously.

  “I wish to confess something,” Milisend continued. “Not for myself, but to secure your help for someone. And I require your strictest confidence. You must swear to keep your silence.”

  Tronchet shook his head. “Princess, I think you should listen to me first. I know why you have come. I tried to come to you before…”

  “Yes, I will confess that I—what?”

  “I said I know why you’ve come. I know about Regaume.”

  “You do?” Panic crept into her voice.

  “You don’t need to confess anything to me, Princess. I’ve known for a long time, and you know I’ve known.”

  “Please help me, Tronchet. I fear the worst has happened to Regaume. I miss him dearly and, well, I love him.”

  “Princess…” The magistrate held up his hand and sighed. He had something difficult to say.

  “What’s happened, Tronchet?”

  “Princess, I didn’t know about him, I mean him and you. I caught him here in the palace some time back and arrested him for thievery. I kept him here in the tower until I could find the rest of his little band. I learned about the arrest of the thieves in Ralmogard and suspected they were linked to Regaume.”

  “So he never went to Ralmogard? Where is he then?” she asked.

  “He is still here, in the tower.”

  “Take me to him.”

  “He only recently confessed to his relationship with you. I would not have kept his arrest from you otherwise. But, well, it’s too late…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Regaume will be sent to Ralmogard tomorrow to be hung for crimes he committed there, alongside the other members of his band.”

  “You will not send
him!”

  “I’m a lawkeeper, Princess. I must do as—”

  “Take me to him at once!”

  Milisend and Rosellen followed Tronchet through corridors and up several spiral stairs. At least Regaume had been kept in the tower and not in the palace dungeon. Milisend’s head spun as she considered how to approach her father to secure Regaume’s release without informing Brugarn.

  Tronchet fumbled with a ring of keys and unlocked a door. They stepped into a dim corridor of barred doors. He led them to one and turned the lock. Milisend stood in the doorway and looked down. Regaume was sitting in the straw, one ankle shackled to the stone wall.

  “My love…” she said, dropping to her knees to embrace him. He was surprised at first but quickly took her in his arms. He was still strong despite his time in the cell. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, Mili. Mild beatings early on but they forgot about me for a while.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tronchet said. “My men were trying to determine—”

  “Silence,” she said before turning back to Regaume. “Have you been here the whole time?”

  He nodded. “I’m certain they’ve killed my friend by now.”

  “And the others are to be hung as well,” she said. “Stand up, Regaume. We’re leaving.”

  “He cannot leave,” Tronchet said, his voice firm. Milisend slapped him, but he stayed where he was.

  “Release him from this chain!”

  Tronchet put the ring of keys in his pocket. “He must pay for his crimes.”

  “What are his crimes? Stealing from the wealthiest Donovards and spending his gains in the slums?”

  “Theft and murder,” Tronchet said. “Two witnesses saw him stab the nephew of Baron Frum in Ralmogard.”

  “Don’t believe it, Mili,” Regaume said. “I’d wager these witnesses are members of a rival band, is all.”

  “What proof do you have, Tronchet?”

  “Two witnesses are proof enough for the magistrate of Ralmogard,” he said. “Regaume must face the charges there, as the other members of his band have.”

  “Others?” Regaume said. “Who?”

  “That is privileged information,” Tronchet said. “You’ll be told the charges and the rest when you’re in the custody of the Ralmogard lawkeepers.”

  “Lies,” Regaume said.

  “I came to you,” Milisend said to Tronchet, her eyes welling. “I came to you in good faith. I came for help only to find you’ve locked him away in your wretched tower. Hiding the only love I’ve known…”

  “I’m sorry, Princess. Truly.”

  “Enough!” Milisend said, wiping her eyes. She bent to hug Regaume again. “I will think of something. I will speak with Father if I must.”

  Regaume nodded and kissed her. She stood, smoothed her dress, and calmed her breathing. She glared at Tronchet as she exited the cell, but the magistrate would not meet her eyes.

  ---

  “I won’t let you bother the king right now,” Brugarn said. “He is due to discuss moving another army down into Alpenon in case the Rugens are foolish enough to attack us.”

  “This is important, Uncle,” Milisend said, putting her hand on the door as he tried to close it on her.

  Brugarn looked at her hand as if it were a disgusting creature affronting him. “I said we’ll not be bothered with petty prisoner requests at this time!” He flicked her hand from the door and tried to close it, but she stabbed her foot in the jamb.

  “But I love Regaume,” she said. “You must help me!”

  A cruel grin crept into the corners of Brugarn’s ugly mouth. “In love with a murderous thief? Is he the one who has taught you his craft? What a dishonor you are to this house. Stealing in the night like a wicked rat, giving yourself to such scum, then pleading with me. Death to the filth! May you not dirty yourself with wretched brigands henceforth.”

  Brugarn kicked her foot away and slammed the door, turning the lock. Milisend pounded her fist on it once, then leaned into it and began to cry. She pushed away and composed herself, walking past the guards, who pretended not to have seen or heard any of it.

  ---

  That evening Milisend sat at her window, watching the city’s night fires come to life. Rosellen had tried to cheer her up but she insisted on being left alone. Milisend was surprised to hear a knock at the door so soon after excusing Rosellen.

  “Princess, please forgive me…” It was Rosellen, peeking around the door. “The magistrate’s assistant has come.”

  “For what? To tell me Regaume’s been sent to Ralmogard early?”

  “He’s asking to see you.”

  Milisend sighed and reluctantly slipped her evening robe over her gown. She would not deny she was desperate for news about Regaume, good or bad. She exited her bedchamber and came out into the solar, where the assistant was waiting awkwardly.

  “Princess Milisend.” He bowed. “Forgive my intrusion. Chief Magistrate Tronchet ordered me to deliver this letter to you.”

  Milisend unfolded the little parchment, her jaw set.

  Dear Princess,

  Please know it was never my intention to hurt you. As a lawkeeper I’m simply doing my duty, as ordered by your father the king. However, I’ve sent word to the magistrate of Ralmogard to delay Regaume’s travel. I’ve claimed I lack enough guards to escort him.

  This tactic will not delay him for long, as they will likely send their own cart and guards. But perhaps it will be long enough for your father to intercede on Regaume’s behalf.

  Chief Magistrate Tronchet

  Milisend wiped a tear from her cheek. “Please tell the magistrate I’m grateful.”

  “Of course.” The assistant quickly departed, and Milisend handed the letter to Rosellen.

  “Oh, Mili…The lawkeeper has a heart after all,” she said.

  “I cannot be too glad,” Milisend said. “Brugarn takes pleasure in my misery, and he and Chaultion have Father stolen away more and more. I must think of something…”

  “What about Lord Valient?” Rosellen asked. “As Marshal of Inquiry, surely he is now a lawkeeper himself.”

  Milisend straightened. “Rosellen, that is brilliant. Though, as Serdot has witnessed, Valient will have much to frown on me about. Still, if I’m to wed Valient, perhaps he would do me this favor.”

  “Ask him.”

  “I shall, when he returns to Eglamour.”

  69. ARTHAN

  Hullen Warcastle, Delavon Ministry

  Bloomfade, 3034

  “And over here you can see this was the central keep of Hullen,” Bellumet said to the group. “The walls were thicker than anything else built at the time in Pemonia, which is why they have weathered time so well.”

  Arthan turned to his vassal of Sobel, Countess Iserenne. “If Meriam’s calculations are correct, you will take command of Hullen in about three months’ time. Choose your castellan well.”

  “My lord,” Iserenne said, “you should have the honor of naming the first castellan of a modern warcastle.”

  “Very well, I will send you someone worthy from Rachard.”

  “If you’ll follow me through here…” Bellumet said, stepping into a ruined corridor. Livonier, Meriam, and several guards followed him. Ivy lay thick across the roofless stone structures, grasping at and in some places pulling out weathered stones. Iserenne spoke in a hushed tone as she walked beside Arthan toward the rear.

  “Troubling news from Gadolin Ministry. Do you think war will be upon us?”

  “I wouldn’t bother to repair this place if I didn’t think so,” he answered. “What have you heard?”

  “Rumors say Lord Erath regularly catches and tortures Rugen spies sent across the border. And that Rugen soldiers are massing on Gadolin’s border.”

  “My brother Rowan has said the same about Alpenon. If they do invade, the Rugens must pass through Gadolin before reaching Delavon. Erath would slow them
down so we’d have plenty of warning. We’ll be ready.”

  “Is Rowan safe, my lord?”

  “I’ve not heard from him in some time. I expect he is roving the borderlands with Asteroth. But I intend for him to come home. He’ll be in charge at Rachard while I’m in Eglamour. He will rely on your advice, as well as the advice of Count Dardanon and the others. Trying times are ahead.”

  “This way!” Bellumet called from up ahead.

  Arthan and Iserenne found themselves lagging behind the main group. The ruin of Hullen was a vast maze of weathered stone, crooked trees, and thick brush.

  “My lord?” Livonier called from ahead.

  Arthan could hear the worry in his voice. He quickened his pace.

  “Lord Valient!” Livonier shouted.

  Arthan heard swords unsheathe. Bellumet cried out in pain. Arthan and Iserenne looked upward to the sound of someone running along the top of the ruined wall.

  Arthan drew his father’s alchemical sword. Adrithayn’s blade shone with a white gleam brighter than any steel. Arthan sprinted ahead as Meriam screamed, with Iserenne close behind him. The sound of the fighting grew louder as they rounded a corner. A quick-moving masked figure crossed swords with Livonier, Cuern, Erboln, and the other guards. When the assassin saw Arthan, he backflipped and sprinted toward him.

  Arthan charged the assassin. Before he could close the distance the assassin threw a tiny knife at Arthan. He chopped it from the air with Adrithayn, feeling the vibration of metal against metal. When they met, Arthan brought his sword down hard against the assassin’s blade.

  Their engagement was short, Sir Cuern having approached the assassin from behind. Arthan tried to jab the masked figure in the ribs but his opponent was too quick. A puff of orange smoke burst at the feet of the assassin. The assassin disappeared as the cloud grew. Arthan took a last swipe before backing away, expecting the cloud to be poisonous.

  At once Adrithayn took on an orange glow, its brilliant white gleam replaced by the hue of the assassin’s smoke. All the smoke was soon drawn toward Adrithayn, seemingly absorbed by the blade itself.