Lords of Deception

by Christopher C Fuchs

  The blades and screams soon ended. It became quiet. He waited until the summer breeze began to carry the smoke away. Only when more soldiers ventured out did he peel himself from the column to have a look into the courtyard. Henrey and his guards were a heap of red. There was no sign of the assassins.

  Brugarn caught his breath with difficulty. He clutched a column for support. When he brought his hand away it was red with spattered blood.

  “My lord, are you all right?” a soldier asked.

  It took Brugarn a moment to realize it was one of his Crownblades.

  “Where were you?” Brugarn said. “When I say a private meeting I mean out of earshot. They nearly killed me, you fool.”

  “Apologies, my lord. Which way did they go?”

  “Never mind that. Get me to the palace at once.”

  88. ARTHAN

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  “The king’s health is very poor, both mind and body,” Waldemar said. “Hamelin finally permitted me to go up into the tower to see him, without Brugarn knowing. I’m not even sure Erech recognized me.”

  Arthan looked at the tree limbs bobbing in the breeze as they walked the path through a little wooded courtyard. “What can be done?”

  “I spend most of my waking hours considering that question, Lord Valient. I’m not sure anything can be done. I’m a patient man ripe in years, but my hope has worn thin. If only your father were alive.”

  Arthan knew Waldemar did not evoke Maillard as an insult, but it still stung. The old steward and others had relied on his father for so long to overcome a myriad of problems, from the royal court to foreign lands. Arthan grasped how difficult that was to imitate.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  Waldemar stopped walking. “No one should compare you to Maillard, but you cannot blame us for trying. Your behavior with Brugarn the other day at court…Well, you won the trust of many nobles, and you spoke the truth. But I know Brugarn, and he cannot be dealt with so directly.”

  “Serdot told me as much.”

  “Perhaps it was wrong of me to demand so much from you so quickly. You are still so young, and our reliance is due to our own failings. Do not misunderstand me, Lord Valient. You can become the great uniter your father was, a great leader of our kingdom. You have that potential. But your wisdom must be grown with time and care.”

  “They say time is a quick fish with constant change in its wake,” Arthan said.

  Waldemar smiled. “A wise observation, indeed.”

  “May I ask a question regarding a more personal matter?”

  “Of course.”

  “When you met with the king, did he mention his intention for me to wed his middle daughter, Princess Milisend?”

  “A royal wedding is no personal matter,” Waldemar said. “I would be most happy to witness such a merger of the houses of Avaleau and Valient, the sooner the better. It would drain the legitimacy that Brugarn has gathered around himself to be the next king. Alas, Erech did not speak of it to me.”

  “Before I left for Rachard, he asked me to consider wedding her. I would do so, for the good of the kingdom, but that time may have passed.”

  “I’m sure the king’s intent was genuine,” Waldemar said. “But his mind has deteriorated so quickly. Was anyone else aware of his intent for you to wed her?”

  “Duke Brugarn was the only witness, unfortunately. He was as surprised as I was.”

  Waldemar turned glum again. “Then there is your answer. It’s certain Brugarn has dissuaded Erech from the notion of joining the houses. Such an arrangement would destroy his position.”

  “I thought as much,” Arthan said. “Then it’s not to be.”

  Arthan and Waldemar turned at the sound of soldiers shouting, then Brugarn’s booming voice.

  “There you are!” The duke stomped into the wooded courtyard, smacking the branches out of his way like a child in a tantrum. “They almost killed me and you’re shading yourself in leisure!”

  “My lord?” Arthan asked, looking at the blood smudged on Brugarn’s hands and tunic. The duke was clearly shaken.

  “Are you all right?” Waldemar asked.

  “Do I look all right, you old fool? Lord Valient has failed in his duties as marshal. Lord Henrey was slain this time, but it will be you who will explain it to Princess Avalane.”

  “Me?” Arthan wanted to curse him, but he tried to keep calm, mild, diplomatic. He was determined to channel the wisdom and patience Waldemar spoke of.

  “You’re a disgrace,” Brugarn continued. “What good is a Marshal of Inquiry if you cannot track down these assassins? We’ll all be dead before you—”

  “Are these not the Crownblades behind you?” Arthan asked calmly. “You’ll recall the king charged me with investigating, not protecting. Perhaps you’d care to describe what you saw? Did they come toward the palace?”

  Brugarn sniffed. “I’m not part of your office. What have your investigations found, then?”

  “That is privileged information,” Arthan said. “I cannot divulge it prematurely, in fear of losing—”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Brugarn said. “I’ll speak to the king about it. Marshal of Insolence!”

  Brugarn stomped off with his Crownblades in tow. Arthan glanced at Waldemar.

  “That was better,” the steward said. “Don’t provoke him, let him spout his nonsense, and don’t give him anything to latch on to.”

  “Henrey dead…I must get back to my duties.”

  “Find these people, whoever they are,” Waldemar said. “The Rugens will have no one left in Eglamour to conquer.”

  89. MARLAN

  Torfnabruk River, Lundwynland Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  “I know what you’re thinking,” the captain said, “and you won’t have any need to, I swear. I’ve worked with high banditry before and kept my mouth shut. I’ll get you to Aughreim safe and quick, then be on my way. Won’t say anything, I swear.”

  Marlan glanced at the captain as he finished replacing the bandages on his hands. He had not said anything to the old sailor about what might happen to him once they arrived in Aughreim. He wondered if the captain had overheard Marlan talking with Rodel last night. Rodel was in favor of letting the captain go, something Marlan knew Arasemis would never allow. The Order of the Candlestone had long kept its secrets by silencing witnesses who could prove dangerous later.

  Marlan’s eyes met Rodel’s as he replied. “You’ll do as we say, Captain, regardless. Do it right, and I’ll consider your keeping your life.”

  “Of course, Master.”

  Marlan had watched him. The captain simply could not help staring at their mechans and Marlan’s sword. Marlan had no doubt the old man would talk about what he had seen and describe their faces to the lawkeepers. They were not going to keep their masks on throughout the voyage, given their limited supply of gill fern fronds. The captain could also probably guess their ultimate destination. He simply knew too much.

  Marlan tried to put thoughts of what would have to be done out of his mind for now. He had considered trying to steer the riverboat himself, but he’d never been on the Orbruk before. Marlan tested the flexibility of his bandaged hand before winking at Rodel and walking to the prow. Rodel met him there, and they whispered.

  “You know how I feel about letting him go,” Rodel said. “Even if he talks, it won’t stop us.”

  “Part of me agrees with you. But surely your training, whatever it was for, tells you to silence him to avoid the risk.”

  Rodel nodded. “But will it matter this time? If we’re successful in Eglamour, everyone will know the name Candlestone.”

  “Only if Arasemis and the others have had better luck than we’ve had. If something worse happened to them, everything could be up to you and me. It’s not worth the risk.”

  Rodel looked out onto the darkening mirror of the rive
r, then down at the gentle swell where the prow cut through the water. “My training did require killing for security, but we were taught that we had already failed if our security was compromised in the first place. I know we had no choice, I just…”

  “You were a Wosmok, weren’t you?” Marlan asked. Discomfort flickered in Rodel’s eyes. “Juhl didn’t tell me. I weaseled a hint out of her and, with Arasemis’s tale of your prison carriage falling into the river, could make a guess. Not many Rugen widsemers roaming around Donovan.”

  “There were few, but now likely more, given the war.”

  “We’re brothers now, Rodel. When you took the Candlestone oath we became family, regardless of where you came from. The war means nothing between members of the Order, except that it’s an opportunity, as Arasemis said.” Marlan paused to smile. “Well, Fetzer has his own views, but he’s still bound by the oath.”

  Rodel nodded. “He is a singular individual.”

  “Driven like no other,” Marlan agreed. “As you’ve heard me say before, I do think he is prophetic for the Order, a bringer of the change we need to fulfill our ancient task.” Marlan watched Rodel watching the water. “Aside from him, Juhl likes you, quite a lot.”

  “Is it forbidden within the Order?”

  “No, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our tasks. Fetzer also favors Juhl, so that could be a problem given his jealous temperament. How do you feel? I know many Lambics and Rugens wed.”

  “I have no such aims. My duty is to complete our tasks.”

  Marlan regarded him with curiosity. “You quit the Wosmoks and became our brother. A hardened Rugen assassin, willing to kill a foreign king yet wishing to spare the life of a boatman. As a man of few words, you offer fewer answers.”

  “I’ve always been a wanderer, Marlan. Being a Wosmok was good for a while because we were left to ourselves for long stretches of time. But I tired of it. It was killing without purpose.” He turned to Marlan. “Candlestone has given me purpose.”

  Marlan looked out across the river to the lands in front of them. “Let me tell you about the history of this realm, Lundwynland. It was settled by a people cursed to wander. You can read about them in Arasemis’s library. After the ancient Bronhildi tribe joined the Brintilian Empire, they intermarried with the imperials. Most stayed in their native lands, but some traveled west to where the conquered Goyn clan of the Gallerlanders dwelled. They intermarried again with the Goyns, so three quarters of their blood was heathen.

  “These are the Lundwyn people of today,” he continued. “They were displaced several times by the empire but finally were granted these lands by the first kings of Donovan. In return, the Lundwyns were banned from using their whisper alchemy, which they developed from the old heathen ways.”

  “Whisper alchemy?”

  “Arasemis is not certain whether it existed or whether it was just an ancient tall tale. The notion came from embellished Brintilian imperial dispatches during the colonial era. They claimed native alchemists could slather concoctions on their tongues and whisper in people’s ears to drug and influence them. Whatever the case, it was enough for the early Kingdom of Donovan to outlaw it. Alas, the Lundwyns returned to their home after generations of wandering. Candlestone is the home you’ve been searching for, Rodel. You’ve felt it. We will remake the world.”

  Rodel nodded, returning his eyes to the darkening water. “How much farther?”

  “Shouldn’t be more than a few days to Aughreim. We’ll find some horses and make our way to the capital in a short time. Hopefully Arasemis will not begin without us.”

  “And our boat captain?”

  “I’ll use the sleeping powder first,” Marlan said. “He’ll pass easy.”

  PART IV: BITTER TRUTHS

  90. TRONCHET

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  “Hamelin, you previously said that the king has often been awake at these late hours,” Tronchet said. “That is why I’ve come now.”

  Hamelin shook his head. “It’s useless, Tronchet. The king’s mind is not healthy. He will not hear your plea about your prisoner.”

  “It’s not just about the prisoner. I also want to discuss Henrey’s death.”

  “Duke Brugarn already has,” Hamelin said.

  “How did the king react?”

  “I have watched Brugarn bring many matters of great importance to the king, yet the king does not answer. Brugarn’s visits only serve to keep up the appearance that he counsels with the king.”

  Tronchet nodded. “I suppose I also hoped to see Erech for myself. If he is so far gone, what keeps Brugarn from taking his crown?”

  “I’m commander of the Crownblades, not a political prognosticator.”

  Tronchet frowned. “Very well, if I cannot go up I shall find my own bed for what’s left of the night.”

  “I’m sorry, Tronchet. Brugarn is strict about who goes up into the tower. He has even forbidden me from going up without him.”

  “Then who protects the king?”

  “Is there a king who needs protection?”

  Tronchet could plainly see Hamelin’s frustration and shame for posing the question. “He is still our king…” he said. “Good night, Sir Hamelin.”

  Tronchet stifled a yawn as he trudged through the palace back to his quarters in the prison tower. He passed through the corridor leading to the apartments for visiting dignitaries. He spotted movement in the shadows. A large dark form was pushing a wheelbarrow.

  Tronchet stepped to the wall and peered around a column, watching as the figure stopped in front of Lord Reimvick’s quarters. The figure opened Reimvick’s door and picked up what looked like a small keg from the wheelbarrow and placed it inside. Then he closed the door and departed with the wheelbarrow.

  When all was quiet and still again, Tronchet approached the door. He listened but detected no sound, though he smelled what reminded him of spiced cake. He thought it odd for anyone in the palace to receive such a secretive late-night delivery but did not knock. He resolved to return the next morning to see if he could catch Reimvick.

  91. SERDOT

  Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  Serdot commenced his routine of watching for Reimvick’s exit from his palace apartment early each morning, then following him to the gardens where he enjoyed some fresh air before meeting other nobles to break his fast and gossip. Serdot always made note of who Reimvick talked to and where he went thereafter. Still no travel to Borel.

  Serdot often acted as if he were busy walking here or there or talking to someone. But today he chose to keep out of the apartments’ corridor. He waited behind a column in an adjacent room, within view of Reimvick’s door. The lord minister had not emerged at his usual time.

  Serdot waited and watched. He became anxious as time passed. More servants would be up and about soon. He would become unable to simply wait behind the column without looking suspicious. At the sound of footsteps, he walked into the corridor and paused at a side table, where he acted as though he were writing a letter.

  Serdot soon noticed someone else loitering at the far end of the corridor. Serdot acted as if he had not noticed the figure for a time, then grew too curious not to look. Serdot pocketed his mock letter and walked over, careful to keep an ear bent toward Reimvick’s door.

  “Good morning, Chief Magistrate,” Serdot said.

  Tronchet looked puzzled. “Ah, good morning, Serdot. What brings the right hand of the Marshal of Inquiry into the palace today?”

  “I’m always here,” Serdot said.

  “And everywhere, I’m sure.”

  Serdot noted that Tronchet did not move on, as was the lawkeeper’s habit when he ran into Serdot. “What are you waiting here for, if I may ask?”

  Tronchet became visibly uncomfortable. “I, well…I wanted to make sure everything in this wing of the palace was…in order, given what
happened to Henrey.” Tronchet glanced twice at Reimvick’s door as he spoke.

  “Do you suspect something is amiss?” Serdot asked.

  “Well, I…”

  Tronchet trailed off as Reimvick’s door opened. They both turned to watch the lord minister exit. He seemed his usual self. Tronchet hesitated with a half step.

  “Am I keeping you from an appointment with the Lord Minister of Wallevet?” Serdot asked.

  “Yes—no, I…”

  Serdot waited for Reimvick to leave before grabbing Tronchet’s arm. “Will you walk with me, Chief Magistrate? I have something importa—”

  “Let go of me, you scaly widsemer,” Tronchet said too loudly.

  “Please, Sir Tronchet. It is about Reimvick…”

  Tronchet jerked his arm out of Serdot’s grasp before settling himself. “Why don’t you speak plainly instead of being so opaque and secretive? What is it, then?”

  Serdot ushered him toward a door that led to a balcony, and Tronchet relented. They spoke while overlooking the city.

  “I know you were waiting for Reimvick,” Serdot began.

  “What of it?”

  “So was I.”

  “Why?” Tronchet asked.

  “Why are you interested in him?”

  “I’m the head lawkeeper of the realm, don’t forget. You tell me what you’re doing.”

  “Did you see something?” Serdot asked. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Maybe I did. Why should I tell you?”

  “Lord Valient is charged by the king to investigate threats to the Crown. And we suspect Reimvick is involved. You must keep that to yourself.”

  Tronchet became less ornery. “Why do you suspect him?”

  “What did you see, Tronchet?”

  Tronchet puffed up his chest with a deep breath. “I can investigate anything, you know…” Serdot’s blank stare deflated his pride. “Fine, well, I don’t even know what I saw.”

  “But it interested you enough to keep watching him.”