Champion of the Gods Box Set

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  “Really?” Peter shrunk when all eyes turned to him. “Sorry, Father. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

  “No, if you have a question, you should voice it.” Wilhelm smiled at his son. “I’m pleased to see you this interested.”

  “What was your question, Prince Peter?” Farrell took a long pull on his drink.

  “Well . . . it seems to me that if Father has all the energy gathered into one place, there’s a steady supply for whoever is working for the crown.” Peter stared at his water glass. “Of course, I’m not a wizard so I’m probably mistaken.”

  “It’s a fair observation.” When Peter looked up, Farrell gave him a smile. “The reason wizards wouldn’t find it appealing is someone else is doling out their power. Losing one’s independence wouldn’t be worth not having to collect energy.”

  Nodding to his son, Wilhelm drained his glass. “What else can you tell us about this shield before we retire to consider your offer?”

  Before Farrell answered, he wanted Miceral’s opinion. “They don’t seem interested. Did I do that bad a job explaining it?”

  “Wilhelm isn’t going to let you know how much he wants what you’re selling.” Miceral barely looked over his cup at Farrell. “Remember, he’s a merchant, and they hold their cards close to their tunic when they’re negotiating. Just give him all the basics, and I’ll do the rest.”

  Now he understood. Loudly exhaling, he flicked his wrist to extinguish his additions to the model. “Prince Wilhelm, I grew up among the merchants of Yar-del, so the art of bargaining is not foreign to me. Don’t think what we do here is lost on me. This is like no other transaction ever made. It’s not a want, like a rare jewel or exquisite piece of art that you ache for but can live without if you must. And unlike food or a cure to a plague, there are no other sellers you can turn to that will drive the price down. You want and need this, and there is no one else who has it.

  “If you want me to aggrandize what I’m offering you, I can’t. I’m a terrible merchant, as my attempt to buy coffee demonstrates.” He turned toward Alicia, earning a smile in return. “But a small, hastily constructed version of this type of shielding, created with limited power, thwarted attacks that would have ripped apart even the strongest shield. This one will be stronger, much stronger. It will do what has never been done before: securely shield an entire city indefinitely without taxing the defending wizards.”

  “Even from a wizard as powerful as Meglar?” Wilhelm stared at him.

  “A good question.” Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he shrugged. “Probably not, but even he would need time to defeat this shield. While he was attacking your shield, you could engage him with impunity. Like personal shields, this one allows those behind it to attack their opponents.”

  Wilhelm glanced toward his chief wizard, and Farrell noted a barely perceptible nod. “Assuming you can prove the strength of the shield and if we agree on the price, Belsport would be interested in what you offer.”

  “I would think, Prince Wilhelm,” Miceral said, drawing attention from his partner, “what Farrell laid out is something Belsport would be keenly interested in obtaining.”

  Wilhelm laughed. “Trying to stake out a superior position for pending negotiations? As I said, if what Farrell described is true, Belsport would like to negotiate the terms of a purchase.”

  “Having seen the smaller, less powerful shield in person, I’m certain it will meet your criteria.” Miceral nodded politely. “Just be prepared that it will not come cheap.”

  “Actually, Lord Wilhelm,” Farrell said, avoiding Miceral’s eyes. “I’m prepared to give you a good deal on this, if you want it. I’m less concerned with winning the negotiation than with helping safeguard Belsport from Meglar’s attacks. If you wish to resolve negotiations quickly and amicably, make me a fair offer and we can be done with this.” Noting the mild disappointment on Wilhelm’s face, he shrugged. “Of course, if haggling over the price is a source of pleasure for you, make an unacceptable offer and we can resort to trying to squeeze all we can for my services.”

  Wilhelm smirked at the younger man. “You take some of the fun out of the deal with your offer. Sometimes the journey is more enjoyable than the outcome.”

  “That’s true, but in truth, the game is still afoot. I know this shield is worth every coin in your treasury. And I know you know that too, or you will soon enough. The trick for you is to make a fair bid—one that satisfies me that you appreciate what I offer. If your proposal is insulting, we will bargain in earnest, likely costing you far more than necessary. If you want a challenge, then spend your time determining how little I’ll accept without making it so low that you trigger a long, protracted, and costly bargaining session.”

  “For one who professes to lack a merchant’s skill, Prince Farrell, you’ve hedged me neatly into a corner.” Inclining his head, Wilhelm smiled broadly. “Well played. After Darius and I and my other advisors have a chance to consider your proposal, I’ll give you my answer and perhaps my best, fairest offer.”

  “Of course.” Farrell chanced a glance at his partner, who tried, but failed, to suppress a smile.

  “Now if you will excuse me, I must go.” Wilhelm stood, followed quickly by the others. “Peter, since you paid such close attention, I think you should join us when we discuss the merits of this deal.”

  A mixture of excitement and dread crossed the young prince’s face. “Of . . . of course, Father.”

  Wilhelm left without another word, followed closely by Darius. Alicia circled the table and stopped in front of her brother.

  “Well done, Squirt.” Her playful punch on his arm earned her a glare from Peter. “It takes a lot to impress Father, but you did great. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

  Spinning from the prince, she arched her brow at Farrell. “I can’t believe you played me for a fool like that. ‘Oh, who cares about terms, I just want the coffee.’ You knew I’d report back to my father, didn’t you?”

  Miceral snickered. “We suspected. Your ‘invitation’ was a bit sudden, especially for a princess.”

  “Well played, both of you.” Her smile told Farrell he hadn’t heard the last of this topic. “I’ve never seen Father out-negotiated, let alone cornered like that. Not asking for full or fair value, but only a fair offer, was a masterful move. Tomorrow should be interesting.”

  A bit ashamed he’d deceived the princess during their outing, Farrell stared at the tile floor. “Truth is, I didn’t try to maneuver your father onto a cliff. I simply wanted to shorten the negotiations. Funny how just trying to be fair got me more than I expected.”

  Peter laughed. “There’s an old adage I’ve heard ships’ captains say many times: ‘Never bargain with an honest man.’ Now I know why.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  HORGON ENTERED Farrell and Miceral’s suite in the Citadel grinning broadly. He set his papers on the table, helped himself to a goblet of watered wine, drained it, and poured a second glass. “Negotiating is thirsty business.”

  Farrell smiled. “One moment. I’ll get Miceral. I think he’s on the other side of the tower.”

  Clearing the table of other items, he sent his thoughts to his partner. “Your father is back.”

  “Be right there.”

  “Things went that well?” Farrell asked. “You were smiling like we’d managed to empty Belsport’s treasury.”

  “No, sorry, we didn’t do quite that well.” Horgon continued to smile as he leafed through his papers. “I wouldn’t say we got the better of them, just that it was amusing.”

  Amusing didn’t sound like successful negotiating to Farrell. “Did we at least do well?”

  “The Six, yes.” The older man spun a sheet of paper around. “I’ll go over the terms when Miceral gets here.”

  “I’m here.” Shirtless, Miceral had a light sheen of sweat over his torso. “But I need to get a clean shirt, if you can wait.”

  Farrell snapped his hand toward the
table and a blue tunic, still folded, appeared in front of Miceral. “There, now we don’t have to wait.”

  “Anxious?” Miceral smirked before pulling the shirt on.

  Farrell picked up the paper and scanned it, trying to make sense of the numbers. “Your father said things were amusing, but we did well.”

  Horgon took the page back. “Wilhelm came to the table looking immensely pleased with himself. Then he gave me this.” Waving the sheet, he started to chuckle again. “The centerpiece of their offer is one gold and two silver coins for every pound of stone used to create the shield.”

  Smiling, Farrell understood Horgon’s reaction. “Darius is a tricky old bastard.”

  “Darius?” Miceral brought over the pitcher of water and two glasses. “Didn’t Father say Wilhelm handled the trade?”

  “Yes, but this came from Darius.” Still amused, Farrell motioned for Horgon to give him back the offer sheet. “The size of the stones affects the shield, and Darius knows that. If I choose larger stones to up our fee, I provide Belsport with a more powerful shield. If Belsport offers smaller ones to save money, they limit the effectiveness of their protection.”

  “They said repeatedly, you told them to make a fair offer,” Horgon said. “They seemed to think this would satisfy you.”

  “Let me guess. Wilhelm felt he’d won.” Farrell shook his head. “But it was creative.”

  “And fair.” Miceral chuckled at his joke.

  “Can I send back that we accept?” Horgon handed Farrell a pen. “I kept the page waiting for our response.”

  “That sure I’d agree, were you?” Farrell glanced up before signing the paper. Wiggling his finger, he conjured a dollop of wax next to his name, followed by Heminaltose’s seal for Haven. “Given how much this will cost them, I think we did quite well.”

  “I agree.” Scanning the sheet, Horgon nodded. “Everyone feeling like they won made these negotiations very easy. Oh, one item I think you overlooked.”

  Following Horgon’s finger to a line near the bottom, Farrell saw what he’d missed. “A lifetime supply of coffee? Did you point out to the prince I might live for a thousand years?”

  Horgon stifled a laugh. “Keep reading.”

  “I have to provide a lifetime of repairs, should they be needed.” Farrell rolled his eyes. “As if there will be a need for any repairs.”

  “Wilhelm thought himself most clever.” Horgon disappeared out the door and returned half a minute later. “Everything about the deal was almost half-comedy. We get ten pounds of fish, beef, and chicken for every stone for as many years as there are stones. Everything was tied to the finished product.”

  “Considering I’d have given it to them for free, I guess we acquitted ourselves well.”

  Horgon nodded. “You did. Now get washed and changed. There’s a state dinner to celebrate the new accord.”

  Farrell stifled a groan when he heard “state dinner.” He had no choice, given the occasion, but that didn’t mean he wanted to attend.

  “Oh, before you go, Farrell . . .” Horgon pulled another sheet of paper from the pile. “We agreed to set up a trading company controlled in equal shares by both you and Wilhelm’s house.”

  “How did you manage that?” Farrell smiled as he read the page. “I thought for sure he’d balk at the idea, given how his merchant class is likely to react.”

  “The crown buys most of the timber and raw materials used in Belsport and sells it for a minimal profit.” Horgon motioned for him to keep reading. “If merchants don’t want to sell the Royal Trading Company items for sale in Haven, they can miss out on the sales. Same with our people. All raw materials from Haven will pass through the joint entity.”

  “Excellent job, Fa—Horgon.” Farrell frowned at the near slip, focusing on signing the document. When he brought the paper up, Horgon stared at him. The edge of his lips curled up.

  “Thank you, son.” A wink later, he collected his papers and moved to his room in their suite.

  THE TIME after a meal when everyone made small talk always frustrated Farrell. Given his station and age, he found it hard to relate to others at most functions. He noticed Horgon sitting with Wilhelm, and from what he heard in passing, they were discussing their common experience being widowers. Miceral, always at ease around others, entertained Alicia, Peter, and Darius with a lively story that had them all amused. Rather than find a place to fit in, Farrell moved to the balcony to take in the sea-tinged air.

  “Prince Farrell.” He jumped when Peter called his name.

  Though more than a decade older than the teen, he bowed politely to show proper manners. “Hello, Your Highness. What brings you away from the others?”

  Peter’s face lost most of its color, and he swallowed loudly. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Peter stood rooted to the spot, looking anywhere but at Farrell. “You’re not disturbing me, especially not when I’m invading your home.” When Peter looked up, Farrell motioned for him to join him. “I’m not very good at mingling, so I decided to come outside.”

  Moving closer, Peter reminded Farrell of himself at that age. Tall, gangly, a hint of facial hair—enough to show, but hard to shave. His hair showed the effects of the sun, typical of youth in port cities.

  “I had hoped to talk to you alone.” Twisting back the way he’d come, Peter scrunched up his face when he noted the others in earshot. “But there isn’t enough privacy anywhere in this room.”

  “Can it wait until tomorrow?” Farrell waved his hand in tight circles in front of his face. “Or do you need me to do something to make sure we’re not heard?”

  Keeping his gaze out to sea, Peter took a moment to answer. “What would you do? If you make it obvious, Father will want to know what we’re doing.”

  “How do you feel about flying?” Farrell whispered.

  “Flying?” Peter blinked twice. “What does that mean?”

  “I was thinking about seeing Belsport from above and wondered if you’d like to join me. I promise it will be an amazing view.” Lowering his voice again, he said, “And no one will be able to hear our conversation.”

  Peter let out a nervous laugh, then nodded.

  “Give me a moment.” Farrell made his way to where Wilhelm still spoke with Horgon.

  “Excuse me, Prince Wilhelm.” He waited until the prince looked up. “I was talking to your son about what the city looks like from above, and he expressed an interest in seeing it for himself. Since he is a minor, I thought it best to get your permission before he and I flew off.”

  “Flew off?” Wilhelm jerked his head back slightly. “You mean you want to take him flying?”

  “He expressed an interest, and I could do with a bit of air.”

  “Bored again, are you?” Horgon smirked.

  “I’m trying, Father, but formal state affairs always tax my patience.”

  “I assume this is completely safe?” Peter’s father, not the Prince of Belsport, asked this question.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I would not do anything to put your son and heir at risk.”

  Wilhelm looked toward his son. He smiled and gave the anxious teen a nod. “This is a pleasant development. Peter has been so withdrawn since his mother’s death, but he seems comfortable around you. Thank you for helping him.”

  Farrell bowed and returned to the balcony.

  “What did you say?” Peter’s eyes darted from Farrell to his father.

  “Just that I mentioned flying and you expressed an interest.” Since the sun had gone down, the temperature was dropping, so Farrell fetched them each a cloak. “It gets colder the higher up we go.”

  Attaching his cloak, Peter asked, “What do I do?”

  “Nothing other than hold my hand.” Peter seemed tentative, but he eventually accepted Farrell’s hand. “Don’t look so worried. It’s a simple thing. Once I learned how to do it, I would fly up to the highest places just to get away. Ready?”

  It took an effort not t
o laugh when Farrell saw Peter swallow hard before nodding. Farrell did his best not to jolt Peter as they moved off the ground, but it didn’t help.

  “Easy on that hand, Peter, I’ll want it back when we’re done.” Farrell hoped the joke would ease Peter’s worries, but the younger prince kept his viselike grip.

  Clear of the balcony and away from the tower walls, they quickly gained height. Within moments, Farrell had them higher than the tallest tower in the Citadel. Eyes wide, jaw slightly open, Peter relaxed as he took in the city below.

  “This is amazing.” A smile plastered on his face, Peter only spared the barest of glances at Farrell.

  Taking them north first, Farrell then moved west toward the ocean. “I thought we could talk over the water. That way only the fish will hear what we say.”

  Once beyond the outer walls, Farrell increased their speed, causing their cloaks to flutter loudly behind them. When they couldn’t see the lights from the city, Farrell slowly brought them to a halt.

  “This is as private as I can find.” He winked at Peter, who still seemed tense. “Hopefully it meets your approval.”

  The sound of gentle waves went unbroken as Peter stared into the ocean.

  “You don’t have to tell me, you know.” Whatever bothered him, Farrell didn’t want to press him to talk about it. “We really can just fly around for a bit more, then go back.”

  “No.” With panic in his voice, Peter shook his head vigorously. “I want . . . need to tell you.”

  Peter sighed. Staring down again, he nodded several times and turned his face up. “I think I want to join with a man, not a woman. But, as Prince of Belsport, I can’t possibly be like that, because I have to have children, a son specifically, to carry on the line. Many children, to hear my teachers speak. Father will be furious, and I don’t know what to do. There is no one to talk to about it.”

  Raising his hand so Peter could see it, Farrell got his friend to stop speaking. “Slow down. One thought at a time. You think you like men or you’re sure you do? Sometimes when we’re young, our feelings are a mess and are hard to sort out. I used to think I was attracted to girls, even though I always looked at the handsome men.”