Korith forced an agreeable smile in spite of the distracting ache in his head. His knuckles were white under the table as they gripped the arms of the chair, though he kept his voice pleasant and calm.
“Of course, Duke Thordike, I meant no disrespect.” He reached for the plates of food before him, feeling not the least bit hungry. Lady Bethcelamin also offered a smile for their host, though hers was more genuine.
“Please accept our deepest gratitude for your hospitality, Duke,” she said. “As well as our apologies for this intrusion into your family.”
“Bah!” Duke Thordike wiped the wine from his luxurious mustache, and grinned around a soft, airy roll. “Nonsense.”
Marina spoke, delicately pulling small bits of meat from the bone and grinning at Donnel. “What my eloquent husband means, Lady Korith, is that there is no intrusion. Truly, we are pleased at the company. Rooms are already being arranged, you may stay as long as you like. Do you require a maid?”
Bethcelamin glanced once at her husband, who appeared to be focused entirely on the meal before him, and then met Marina’s eyes.
“My girl is with me,” she said, picking idly at the food on her heaping plate. She shifted in her seat. “We have been traveling for some time.”
Marina nodded, setting down her goblet. “Of course you have, how thoughtless of me. Husband, let me show the Lady Korith to their room, surely she would like to freshen herself after her journey.” She touched Donnel’s hand, and he squeezed hers in return.
“I’ve no objections. Korith? You’re staying the night with us, of course?”
For the first time since his arrival, Jayden looked at his wife and noticed how white her skin was. The ache in his head increased at the thought of dealing with one of his Bethcelamin’s episodes here, and he frowned.
“Be strong, Dove,” he whispered close to Beth’s ear as he touched her soft dark hair. She nodded without looking at him. “We accept your offer,” he said, addressing Thordike. “My wife has been under some amount of stress, as of late.”
Marina stood, and held out her arm to the Lady Bethcelamin. “Your wife is in good hands here,” she assured Duke Korith.
Bethcelamin leaned heavily on Marina’s arm as they walked, but the Estfall Duchess said nothing until they had reached the guest wing.
“I will send for your girl, Lady, if there is nothing I can do for you?” She assisted Bethcelamin into a comfortable chaise. “Forgive me for noticing you favor one leg, is the injury severe? Perhaps I could call for a Healer?”
“It’s fine,” Bethcelamin lied, trying to conceal her panic at the thought. “Please, think nothing of it. You’ve been more than gracious already.”
Marina did not press the matter, though she remained unconvinced. “You have only to send for me if you need anything, Lady. I will see to it myself.”
Bethcelamin nodded with a fragile smile that practically begged her hostess not to be any kinder, lest she break down and weep.
Marina saw, and understood. “Now then, what is your girl’s name?”
Lady Korith shifted uncomfortably on the chaise. “Bashara,” she managed, breathing deeply through her obvious discomfort.
“I’ll send her to you immediately, Lady Korith.” Marina curtseyed low before exiting the room and heading for the servants’ quarters. The poor woman must be in terrible pain, she thought. Bashara would know what ailed her Lady, if anyone did, and then together they could see to it.
28
“These matters are not to be taken lightly,” the visiting Duke insisted. He waved aside the servant’s offer of fruit and thickened cream.
Duke Thordike took a second helping, scraping the bottom of the serving bowl. “Since you seem intent on ruining my meal, Korith, then by all means ruin it. Tell me of these dark times which you and all thirty of your soldiers have come to rescue me from.”
Korith glowered at him, but Donnel merely smiled around a mouthful of the sumptuous dessert.
“The majority of my forces are defending Epidii, Thordike. Dead men walk, and strange creatures have been seen all across the west, from Valenar to Cabinsport. You are not immune here, the threat moves east. Why, I myself was attacked in Porthold just last week.”
Duke Thordike took a long swallow of wine. “Yes, I heard. That was at the secret meeting, was it not? The one to which I was not invited to?” He did not allow Korith time to respond. “I also heard Derbin had closed the gates to the city, yet here you are. How is that, I wonder?”
Korith delayed his answer with a drink of his own wine. “I am not some traveling merchant, Thordike. I had business here. Derbin would not presume to bar my path, whatever restrictions he placed on others.”
Thordike's laugh carried little amusement. “Derbin’s messenger arrived here yesterday, Jayden, with a very different version of events. It seems the Duke didn’t trust you to deliver his call for aid. Smart man.”
The visiting Duke fumed. “That’s not—“
“I am well aware of the happenings beyond my walls, Korith. My soldiers will be in Porthold to assist Derbin - by his request - within the week,” Thordike said, spooning the last of the cream into his mouth. "I sent them to wait in Prattos as soon as I got word of the attack.”
“To wait?” Jayden stared at his host. “You knew what was happening and withheld your aid? Are you so much more trustworthy, then?”
“I do not intrude where I am not invited, Korith, but I would be a fool not to prepare defenses.” Thordike sat back in his chair. “I am not a fool.”
“Nor am I,” Jayden said. He drained the last of his wine in a single swallow, wishing it were whiskey. His head was pounding. “These attacks, these creatures walking the land - it can only mean one thing.”
“The Lich King himself, awakening after a thousand years? Yes, I drew the same conclusion. My preparations are already underway, Korith. There will be time enough to discuss them in the coming days.”
Duke Thordike stood as Marina re-entered the room, reaching to take her hand with a broad smile. “At the risk of being presumptuous,” he continued, “I expect you’ll want to check on your wife. The Lady was quite pale.”
Korith seethed at the obvious dismissal, but stood and offered a polite bow to Lady Marina. His wife was his own business, and he had a mind to tell Thordike just that, but the pain in his head was too damned distracting. He held his anger in check with the last of his self-control, coldly returning Thordike’s unwavering smile.
“Of course,” the visiting Duke agreed. “I suspect, however, that my wife is simply tired. She is unaccustomed to long journeys.”
Thordike nodded in agreement, raising his hand to summon the steward. “Perhaps so. But surely you are fatigued as well. Simon will show you to your rooms, and we shall discuss what aid you can offer in the morning. Rest well.”
“Lady Bethcelamin is not fatigued,” Marina told her husband when their guest had gone. “She’s in terrible pain, she’s injured. I summoned a Healer for her.”
Thordike nodded. “She seems a kind woman,” he said, leading her to the sitting room. “Unlike her husband.”
Marina agreed. “I believe she fears him, Donnel. She was shaking when I left. Will he be angry about the Healer, do you think?”
Thordike took his seat beside her. “A man who allows his wife to suffer is no man at all,” he said. “You did the right thing.”
Marina smiled. “You are a good man, Donnel Thordike. Now, will you tell me of the messenger who warned you of that horrible man’s visit?”
“He was from Porthold,” Thordike said. “Duke Derbin requested my aid, and did not trust Korith to deliver the message. The undead continue to attack from under the city, and while his forces have the opening well guarded, any soldier lost returns to fight against them the next night.”
Marina shuddered. “That’s awful!”
“The gates of Porthold will hold, my love, Derbin was smart enough to close them. My troops are close by, and with the
knowledge we gained in Immthar about burning the bodies of the dead, we should have the city under control again soon.”
Marina squeezed his hand. “Immthar stands, then?”
“There were losses in the beginning, but they’re holding fast. I’ve sent more men to the bridge at Millgate to keep anything from moving this way, and a fresh batch of recruits arrived the day before yesterday. We will have the army we need to defend our lands, my love.”
“What help does Duke Korith propose to offer you, then? Are more of his men on the way?”
Thordike scoffed. “Hardly. He offers nothing and expects gratitude, as he does in all things. He might still be useful, though. He does have some influence. We will think on it.”
Marina watched the firelight flicker for a long moment. “Have you learned anything else about Foley, husband? Was it part of this?”
“They say it was a storm, but no one can actually claim to have seen it. The histories say nothing about the Lich King controlling the weather—“
He was interrupted by Jayden Korith’s enraged entrance and the yelp of pain from the young woman that the visiting Duke threw to the ground at Thordike’s feet.
Duke Thordike stood, his perpetual smile gone in an instant. His eyes flashed dangerously. Marina gasped and immediately went to her knees at the girl’s side on the stone floor. Her shock turned to dismay, then anger when she noted the girl’s torn dress and already bruising arm.
“Jayden Korith! What is the meaning of this?” Donnel Thordike was furious, his usually pleasant voice was thunder, but Korith’s anger was matchless.
“By what authority do you send a witch to my quarters, and by what authority does she lay hands on my wife?”
Marina looked from her beloved husband’s now deathly serious eyes to the red face of his guest, and quickly shepherded the terrified Healer from the room. Marina knew Donnel would handle the situation, but Korith’s reaction rattled her deeply. She had no idea her simple suggestion would have resulted in actual violence.
Thordike did not raise his voice, nor did he back down. “I had nothing to do with her presence in your quarters, Korith, and I will not allow you to treat my people with such violent disregard.”
Korith’s lip curled, exposing his teeth. Even that small motion magnified the pounding in his head. “Your people? She is a witch! You may as well invite the Lich King himself to settle under your roof and call him brother.”
Donnel sat down, still unsmiling, and regarded Korith with a withering gaze. His fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the arm of his chair.
“Whom I employ is my own business, Duke Korith, whatever your personal beliefs and policies may be. This is my home. These are my lands. You are my guest. Were it not for the sake of the Lady you are so outraged on behalf of, I would turn you out this instant for daring to lay a hand on one of my Healers.”
Korith’s eyes widened. “One?” His voice jumped to a slightly higher pitch. “You harbor more?”
Thordike blinked calmly, unperturbed. “Of course,” he said simply. “A few of them from the Westlands, in fact. Healers are very useful people. Uncommon, but essential. Especially in – as you yourself say – dark, desperate times.”
Korith was almost sputtering. “The use of magic is a sure path to evil!” His voice got louder. “A beacon to the Lich King, calling him down on us all—“
Thordike held up his hand, silencing his guest.
“You are said to be intelligent, Korith, so let us pretend for one moment that you are. If the use of magic is a draw for the evils of the Lich King, explain why my lands alone have remained untouched.” He paused, and the easygoing smile returned to his lips for a moment. “Do we assume that I am league with dark forces, then, that I and my wife and my children hold some loyalty to this long dead tyrant?”
“It was not I who suggested so, but if the circumstances suggest…”
“Oh, would you just take half a moment and think, Lich take you? Was it steel that sent Semaj into whatever hell he was sent to a thousand years ago? Or was it magic?”
“Magic broke the world, Thordike, or had you forgotten that we used to be part of a larger land? How can you possibly justify the use of magic when it is the sole reason Phelwen Semaj was able to become the danger he was?”
Donnel Thordike clenched his fist, the only sign he was losing his patience. “With thoughts like that it’s a wonder you can find your way out of bed in the morning. Has it ever once occurred to you that perhaps magic is not at fault, but the intent of the wielder? Is that such a difficult idea?”
Korith shook his head, which ached like thunder but he refused to be riled by the insulting tone of his host. “Magic may only be wielded by those of evil intent, so where is the difficulty in recognizing that magic itself is evil?”
“According to whom, exactly? Who dictates that the use of magic is limited to those of evil nature? The girl you just took such delight in abusing is a Healer. Her only desire is to use her gifts to help the wounded. That is the very opposite of evil.”
Korith sighed heavily, and sank into a chair across from Thordike. He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing at his temples. “How she uses the magic does not negate the danger. That she can use it at all names her as evil, and endangers all who associate with her. Especially now … I have seen what evil magic can do, Thordike, I lost good men in Porthold. And what of Foley? Mark my words, Semaj will seek to reclaim your witch, and all the others you harbor.”
“Korith, you are as single-minded as you are stupid. If you could stop yourself preaching just long enough for an original thought to creep into your mind, you might just see that I am making sense.”
“And if you would let yourself think for one moment that it doesn’t matter if you are right—“
Thordike slammed his fist down on the thick dining table, sending blazing showers of pain through Korith’s head. The argument was over, and they both knew it.
“Do not think of it as me being right and you being wrong. Think of it as accepting the one thing that will give you a fighting chance against what is coming, and coming fast.” Donnel forced a smile to his face. “Come now, Korith … sleep on it. The Lich King isn’t going to come hunting anyone this night.”
“This isn’t over.” Jayden spoke through clenched teeth.
Duke Thordike shook his head. “Over? Far from it. But let us retire. There will be time for discussion in the morning.” He stood and reached out a hand.
Korith clasped it. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d feigned an alliance. “I look forward to it,” he lied. “Good evening.”
On his way back to the room set aside for them, Jayden rubbed with one hand at the back of his neck. The pain wouldn’t ease, and there was still his wife’s maid to deal with, and his wife … how dare they allow such a thing?
29
Bashara waited for the Duke outside the closed door of the chamber, her face red but free of tears. She straightened when she saw him, but her hands betrayed her anxiety as she wrung them in her apron.
Good, Korith thought, stepping in front of her and crossing his arms over his chest. He let his anger grow. Let her be nervous. Let her be frightened.
“Why am I displeased with you, Bashara?”
What color remained in the girl’s face quickly drained away, but her voice stayed steady. “I allowed the Healer to touch Lady Bethcelamin, my Lord.”
“And why should this upset me so, Bashara?”
His face was so calm, but she could feel the anger in every word. Bashara swallowed, hard. “Because you believe magic is evil, my Lord.”
Without warning Korith backhanded her, hard enough to knock her back against the door. The maid brought her hands to her face to cover any small cry she made, but she could not stop the fresh tears. The blow was more forceful than Korith intended, but no matter. Let it be a lesson to her.
“It is evil,” he snapped. “You will do well to remember that in the future. That is, if you are interest
ed in having a future.” His implication was not lost on the maid, who nodded vigorously with her huge terrified eyes peering over the hand still clamped over her lips. “Now, about my wife. Does she sleep, Bashara?”
She moved her fingers, licking the blood from her lip and wiping her hand on her apron. “I – I do not know, my Lord.”
He raised an eyebrow, and it was as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach.
“No tea tonight?”
The maid was now visibly shaking. “My Lord, I – I was afraid to leave. I knew— You said … you wished to speak with me, I thought—"
He cut her off, his voice quiet but sharp. “My wife’s health comes first. In all things. I expect you, as her maid, to feel the same. It pains me more than you know to have to reprimand you on this account again. I cannot suggest strongly enough that you do not require a third lesson, Bashara.”
She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “Shall I bring the tea to her now, my Lord?”
“No, Bashara. You are dismissed. But you will be very careful whom you speak to in this place. Do we have an understanding?”
The maid nodded again. “Yes, my Lord.” She dropped a curtsey and practically ran down the hall.
A sudden sharp pain in his head as he turned towards the chamber door nearly brought him to his knees, and Korith took several deep breaths. Perhaps he would deal with his wife … tomorrow. He fumbled with the door latch, bracing himself against the door with one hand and resisting the urge to be sick. When it finally gave and opened under the weight of him, he practically stumbled into the room.
“Jayden? Are you ill?” Bethcelamin’s light, timid voice seemed a shout in his ears. Even the light from the single candle seemed too bright for his eyes, and he winced. Beth slipped out of the bed accompanied by an orchestra of rustling blankets, and padded to him on swift, sure feet. “Is it your head?”
The pains had plagued her husband for years, but they rarely reached debilitating levels unless it was an occasion of extreme stress. Here they were, accepting the hospitality of his chief opposition as a direct result of the horrifying creatures that were rising in the world … and then he had found the Healer in their room. It was no wonder he was in such agony.
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