Lords of Deception

by Christopher C Fuchs

  Tronchet sighed. “I saw someone bring a keg to Reimvick’s door in the middle of the night. I was on an errand when I spotted—whoever it was. I couldn’t see much, and the person left.”

  “Did this person speak to anyone?”

  “No one was around. He left as quick as he came. It could be nothing.”

  “It could be everything,” Serdot said. “Who else has a key to Reimvick’s quarters?”

  “These are dignitaries’ apartments,” Tronchet said. “Only I have additional keys.”

  “Then it must have been Reimvick, unless someone stole yours.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Tronchet fished a ring of keys from his belt. “These are the skeleton keys for the whole palace. None are missing.”

  “Let’s have a look in his rooms, shall we?”

  “Absolutely not. He is a lord minister and worthy of respect. I will simply ask him about the keg.”

  “Don’t do that,” Serdot said. “It may be dangerous for you.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Serdot pulled Garion’s key from his pocket. “If you won’t open his door, then I will.”

  “What is that? You can’t bluff me. These are the only skeleton keys…”

  Serdot turned for the door. This time it was Tronchet who grabbed his arm.

  “What is going on? If you don’t tell me about Reimvick I’ll go to him myself.”

  “You’ll be endangering Lord Valient’s investigation, and perhaps more lives, if you do. Or we can work together. But you must be strictly silent about it.” Tronchet nodded, so Serdot returned to the balcony. “Good. This key will open Reimvick’s door. We found it on Garion’s body.”

  “The assassin? How did he—? Why is Reimvick…?”

  “I’ve been in his rooms once already. Nothing definitive, but that’s why I’ve been watching him. We simply don’t know enough. Now you know and must keep silent.”

  Tronchet nodded. “I will.”

  “Shall we enter his quarters?” Serdot asked.

  They returned to the door and waited until the corridor was empty. Tronchet watched the corridor entrances, while Serdot turned the lock. Then they entered.

  “I can’t believe Garion had a key,” Tronchet said. “I can’t believe it. What does that mean?”

  “Quiet, please, Sir Tronchet. Help me look for the keg.”

  They glanced around the main room. A presence candle on the table was unlit, but the layered wax around the base suggested that Reimvick had been paranoid enough to light several.

  “Looks like he’s grown more comfortable, but why?” Serdot mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Keep looking.”

  Tronchet approached the wardroom door. “Locked.” He pulled out his skeleton key before Serdot could come over. The magistrate walked in with Serdot close behind him. Everything seemed ordinary. Then Tronchet unlocked the privy door and gasped. Serdot peered around him, catching a glimpse of the open keg. It was packed with glass vials, liquid-filled flasks, and powder pouches.

  “What in God’s name…?”

  “It’s a secret alchemical laboratory,” Serdot said. “Just as before.”

  “Alchemy? The diabolical arts here, in the palace? Disgusting! He will be arrested at once.”

  Serdot stood in the doorway. “It’s not time for that yet.”

  “What do you mean? Get out of my way!”

  Serdot held up his hand. “You’ll not arrest Reimvick yet. We must learn more about what he’s up to and discover who else is involved. Then let Lord Valient decide.”

  “I’ve been a lawkeeper longer than Valient has been alive,” Tronchet said. “You think I’m going to wait for his decision before locking up this dabbler in the dark arts? Garion must have been in league with Reimvick, don’t you see? I must question him myself.”

  Serdot rolled his eyes. “You promised to cooperate, Sir Tronchet.”

  “Don’t give me that nonsense. I’ll have—”

  “I know snaring Reimvick would be good for you. Perhaps the king would see you, perhaps Brugarn would like you more—though that’s unlikely. And that’s if you’re able to prove Reimvick did more than practice alchemy. It may be distasteful to you, but it’s unlikely to justify arrest. They’ll make a mockery of you.”

  “Don’t talk to me like some schoolboy. I’ll have—”

  “Sir Tronchet, Sir Tronchet, if you’ll not work with me and Arthan on this, I will lock you in this lab and let Reimvick find you. If he is part of the assassins then he’ll kill you in here and stuff you down the privy.”

  “You have Garion’s key, but I’ve got—”

  “These?” Serdot held up the magistrate’s key ring.

  “Dirty widsemer trickster!”

  “Now, are we on the same side yet?” Serdot asked. “You forced me to tell you about Reimvick, now I’m forcing you to be quiet about it. Do we have an understanding?”

  Tronchet glanced at the alchemy bottles and ingredients strewn all over the little room. “Fine.”

  “I have your word on it, as an honest lawkeeper in honorable service to king and Crown?”

  “Yes, yes. But you have a week to find out what you need to know. He’ll be arrested thereafter, since he’s a threat to everyone in the palace.”

  “Fair enough,” Serdot said. “But from the looks of things, we may not have that much time anyway. Destroying a laboratory to hide evidence made sense. Rebuilding a lab at great risk is ominous indeed.”

  92. THEUDAMER

  Torgsbad Castle, Alpenon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  “My apologies, Your Majesty,” Graf said. “We were overwhelmed and Asteroth’s army burned the forests and farms, so we could not forage. We had no choice but to fall back here for supplies. I ordered immediate repairs to the castle.”

  “Graf, you have the distinction of invading Donovan and causing wonderful problems for Asteroth,” Theudamer said. “You’ve done more with a single brigade than many do with three.”

  Theudamer looked down from the castle wall, watching his newly arrived army file across the stone bridge where Graf had been tricked by Asteroth. Soldiers, knights, wagons of corn and beer, equipment, everything his army needed.

  “We’ll be more than twelve thousand strong on this front,” Theudamer continued. “And well supplied. General Valk has half our number marching into Gadolin as we speak. He should be able to move through the plains quickly. Tell me about Asteroth and his men. What have you seen?”

  Graf cleared his throat. “We got within view of his capital, Cantrileme, before they turned us back. We clearly took them by surprise. Asteroth tried to use his soldiers conscripted from the rebel-held areas in the west, but, of course, half of them deserted or joined our ranks. Asteroth retreated to regroup with his Donovards and forced us back the next day with a vicious counterattack. Obviously they didn’t pursue us for long. Overall it seems Asteroth has abandoned the borderlands.”

  “Or wants us to think he has,” Meliamour said.

  “What about the rebels?” Theudamer asked. He turned to face the high Brindthum Mountains in the west. Their snow-covered peaks glistened in the midday sun.

  “The rebels now control the Orringholm River Valley,” Graf said, “all the way to Orringholm on the coast. The Almerians still own the port city, but only because they continue to sell arms and supplies to the rebels.”

  “Make sure the rebels get rid of the Almerians,” Theudamer said. “We will supply them, no one else.”

  “The Almerians make a lot of gold from their trade at Orringholm,” Meliamour said. “They’ll not give it up freely. The rebels won’t like losing Almerian support either.”

  “Who leads the rebels now that Geras is dead?” Theudamer asked.

  “Ardis Vilarwef, Gothal’s sister,” Graf said.

  “Gothal must have anointed her while we marched here,” Meliamour said.r />
  “Ardis is currently in the Brindthum Mountains at the rebel stronghold of Thumtorf,” Graf said. “She’s gathering her new command.”

  “Now that we’re in Durgensdil, I want the Almerians out,” Theudamer said, turning to Meliamour. “Send your new Wosmoks to do it. Graf, go and fetch the new commander Meliamour sent to you earlier.”

  “Your Majesty,” Meliamour said when Graf had gone, “the new Wosmoks are better used to penetrate Asteroth’s fortifications. To swiftly take all of Durgensdil, we’ll need them to weaken his defenses and help pave the way through Toulon to Eglamour. The Almerians are of little threat and can be dealt with later.”

  Theudamer turned to her, unable to hide his smirk. “Don’t be afraid of losing your influence within Graf’s army just because I’m temporarily reassigning your Wosmoks. Whether in Heingartmer or on a campaign, I will always have need of your services.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “We will strike the Donovards so hard and so quickly that they will be sure to go crawling to anyone who might help them—even the Almerians. If we let the Almerians keep Orringholm for now, it provides them an avenue from which to disturb our supply lines. It also gives the rebels another option instead of being dependent solely on us.”

  “Here he is,” Graf said. “Sir Hedger, the emperor has a task for you.”

  “Get rid of the Almerians in Orringholm,” Theudamer said. “Do it quickly, using any means Meliamour gives you. Do not tell the rebels unless you must. How many under your command?”

  “Three, Your Majesty,” Hedger said.

  “I want all of you to return to the army within a week, in time for us to lay siege to Asteroth’s capital,” Theudamer said.

  “Your Majesty,” Graf said, “Orringholm is a two-and-a-half-day ride from here. And Asteroth’s men are likely to slow our approach to Cantrileme.”

  “Then leave now and ride it in two days, Hedger,” Theudamer said. The emperor turned to Graf. “We’ll not be slowed down. Look at the army I have brought. We’re going to crush them.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “I tolerated your excuses for retreating earlier, but no excuses this time,” Theudamer continued. “Cantrileme will be under siege within seven days or you will be sent back to Havelbern and stripped of your general’s cape and wardenship.”

  Theudamer glanced at the steady march of his soldiers across the bridge before turning his eyes north, toward Eglamour. “I want the Avaleaus to panic. I want Erech and Brugarn and the others to lose all faith in the ability of Asteroth and Erath to defend them. I want their castles to burn and their people to submit. And I want to be sitting on the throne of Donovan before winter.”

  93. FETZER

  Borel District of Eglamour, Toulon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  Fetzer stared at the candle. Every flame and fire reminded him of his destiny to lead the great change. The very name of Candlestone proved it. He wished Arasemis would act. He wished to be let lose against the Avaleaus all at once. He hated the halting nature of the master’s tactics.

  We’ve been waiting too long. The killing of Henrey was flawless. We were initially confused by the rumors that Duke Brugarn had been killed. If we had known Brugarn had been there moments before, we would have killed him too. He was lucky this time.

  Henrey’s death also proved to Arasemis that I can complete a task with ease, with some help from Juhl and despite the ridiculous forge armor. Arasemis came with us but merely watched from the rooftops, rightly fearing that his worsening cough would give away our surprise attack. He didn’t light up his lamp armor. Didn’t even use it! Not that we needed his help.

  But that hasn’t stopped him from critiquing us. I think he has grown restless, too, waiting as we are for Marlan and Rodel to arrive. We expected their roundabout path to take longer, but not this long. Arasemis is also anxious because a letter he was expecting from a supporter in the palace has not come. He says he still trusts the supporter—whoever it is—so we will give our companions and the letter more time.

  Meanwhile we sit around this dingy house, forced to breathe the stench of the slum and listen to Arasemis’s hacking. Seeing this place, living in it, makes me wonder why Arasemis is so eager to put the power he intends for us to take from the kings into the hands of chieftains chosen by the masses. The filth that walk the gutters of Borel can hardly be any different than the ancient heathen hordes Arasemis idolizes.

  I’m not interested in Candlestone’s dusty prophesies and lofty ends. Instead, I see the Order as a tool for me to craft my own realm, with speed and strength unmatched. I will help Arasemis kill kings, but for myself. Not for him and his dusty books.

  In the meantime, we continue to wait…

  94. ARTHAN

  Clonmel Estate in Eglamour, Toulon Ministry

  Midsummer, 3034

  “I respectfully disagree, my lord,” Serdot said. “I think we should wait a bit longer. We don’t know who killed Lord Henrey. We got lucky with Garion, so all we have is Reimvick. We must let him lead us to the others.”

  “I understand, Serdot,” Arthan said. “But time has run out. These assassins come out of nowhere, and I’m speaking from experience. It’s anyone’s guess who will be next. We must act in the hopes that Reimvick can tell us something. If someone else is killed, Brugarn will also have cause to depose me as marshal. It’s more urgent now that Tronchet knows.”

  “I had no choice but to tell him,” Serdot said. “You know I prefer to work differently.”

  “I know, but Tronchet has every incentive to do all of this himself.”

  “He will cooperate, I’m sure of that.”

  “What makes you so confident?”

  “I threatened to lock him in Reimvick’s privy laboratory, and I stole his palace keys. I gave them back, of course…”

  Arthan sighed. “Well, these are not your usual methods, but no matter. As long as the chief magistrate cooperates.” Arthan picked up his quill and wrote out a quick note. “Give this to Tronchet. It’s a request for Reimvick’s immediate arrest. I want it done as quietly as possible.”

  “As a lawkeeper, you have the power to arrest him yourself. Why do you need Tronchet?”

  “I’m giving Tronchet the gift of arrest in return for his cooperation. He is to bring Reimvick here to Clonmel so that we may question him, given our knowledge of the other assassinations. When the time is right, we’ll share the glory with Tronchet, so far as the Avaleaus recognize it.”

  “Very well, my lord.” Serdot took the letter and smiled. “I think that’s how your father would have done it, too.”

  “Quickly, now,” Arthan said.

  When Serdot had departed, Arthan leaned back in his chair. He had not taken enough time to prepare himself for this. He had no doubt Reimvick would come peacefully, though he might try to deny it all for a while and play the part of Maillard’s old friend. Arthan was unsure how they would get Reimvick to confess, given the lack of hard evidence.

  He steeled his mind for what he knew must be done. The methodical assassination of the royal family and high nobles would continue if he did not take action. He stood from his table and made certain all the windows of the room were latched and the curtains drawn tight, remembering that Garion had chosen to throw himself from the window rather than face more questioning. If Reimvick’s secrets were equally precious, Arthan must not give him that option.

  ---

  It was not long before Serdot and Tronchet arrived with Reimvick, escorted by Livonier and a few guards. He was not shackled and appeared confused.

  “Lord Valient, there has been a grave mistake,” Reimvick said with an awkward smile. “The chief magistrate claims you’ve ordered my arrest.”

  “Yes, please sit down. Sir Tronchet, a word, please.”

  The chief magistrate eagerly joined Arthan in a quiet aside while Serdot showed Reimvick to a chair in front of the table. Art
han spoke softly.

  “Tronchet, I must thank you for your timely cooperation. I know my appointment as Marshal of Inquiry may have stepped a bit into your domain as the king’s head lawkeeper, but I assure you no insult was intended. Now, as a valuable addition to our investigation, I invite you to stay for Reimvick’s questioning. But you must understand that any information gleaned from him must be kept confidential until this conspiracy is unraveled.”

  Tronchet nodded. “I respected your father, Lord Valient, and I see you beginning to follow in his footsteps. I do not wish to be an obstacle for you, so long as the king’s law is upheld. And one other thing: tell Serdot to keep his fingers out of my pockets.”

  “Consider it done,” Arthan said with a smile. “I will lead the questioning, given my experience with this conspiracy. You may participate as needed. Fair enough?”

  Tronchet agreed, and they returned to the prisoner.

  “I must say, I’ve never been arrested by the king’s men or another lord minister,” Reimvick said.

  “The chief magistrate arrested you, my lord, but I will question you as marshal, not your fellow lord minister,” Arthan said.

  “What in heavens for?”

  “Tell me about your relationship with Garion,” Arthan said, taking a seat behind the table.

  “The assassin? Why, I never spoke to the man. He was one of the Crownblades. Betrayed us all.”

  “My lord, you’ll recall my exposing of Garion at court,” Arthan said. “Garion’s mask and the letter we found among his belongings?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank God you discovered him.”

  Arthan gestured to Serdot, who unfolded the letter and placed it on the table in front of Reimvick. “As you can see, the letter ordered Garion to kill Duke Brugarn. The orders were signed simply ‘E.’”

  Reimvick stared blankly at the note, then looked up expectantly. “Yes, I see it.”

  Arthan leveled his eyes at him. “Your given name is Edmond.”

  “Well, how many given names, surnames, and other names begin with that letter?” Reimvick asked. “It could also be a title or God knows what.”