“Why? Because I’m a human?” Still breathing hard, Farrell dried himself with a towel Jagwin provided.
Drendar nodded. “That and you’re a wizard. Dwarves don’t count wizards of any great consequence among our numbers. But you turn my prejudice on its head every chance you get. I’m left to wonder if it’s a calculated effort or if this is who you really are. My cousin, Lamenar, tells me to trust you and accept Khron’s wisdom. Certainly, he would tell me this is not an act.
“What is clear is that I must accept you as kings of Trellham and high kings of the dwarves. I pray this is not a mistake and that you rule wisely and well.”
Drendar bowed deeply and then walked back to the palace.
Chapter Twenty
The image in Farrell’s mind blinked out, and he set the Eye in his lap. Stretching his arms over his head, he hadn’t realized how long he’d been “gone” as he eased the kinks out of his back.
Miceral emerged from the bath chamber and looked at Farrell floating in the center of the room.
“Find anything?” Miceral asked, as he rubbed the back of his head with a towel.
Staring a moment at Miceral’s naked body, Farrell didn’t answer right away. He stepped down and put the Eye in his pocket. “Um, in a way, yes. The Mind is hidden in the wall in an ordinary-looking corridor connected to several other nondescript hallways. So if I knew what I was looking at, yes, I could find it easily.”
“You sound skeptical.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up his bag. “Thrinton or Wasquar can help you find it.”
“The question isn’t can they, but will they.” Farrell pulled his tunic over his head. Looking in the mirror, he noted several red welts from the flat of Miceral’s sword that were sore to the touch. “Guess I wasn’t as good at defending myself as I thought.”
“You did great.” Miceral came up behind him and pulled Farrell into a hug. “I’m connecting less all the time.”
Farrell wiggled around, kissed his partner, and slipped through his grasp. “You’re sweet to lie like that. It’s a good thing Drendar didn’t see these bruises before he thought I was holding my own against you.”
“Getting back to my original question. Why would they deny your request for help? They can’t find it without you.”
“They’re probably waiting to see if I can find it on my own.” Farrell laughed and stripped off the last of his clothing. “But aside from that, if I don’t find it, the Mind will still be here and maybe they can find it in time.”
“Thrinton strikes me as entirely reasonable. You’ve explained you need it, and now that he’s accepted you as high king, I don’t see him denying you something that will help all dwarves.”
Farrell stood before the tub with its array of knobs and spigots. After staring at them for a moment, he extended his right hand and pushed out with his will. A moment later steaming water filled the tub.
“You couldn’t figure out how to fill it the usual way so you . . .” Miceral waved his hand randomly in front of his face.
“My way is easier.”
Miceral feigned disgust. “You’re lazy and impatient.”
“Are you sure you’re not Heminaltose in disguise?” Farrell dunked his head and pushed his hair back when he came up for air. “That was almost a direct quote from my old master. You old men get jealous too easily when the next generation does something you wish you’d thought—”
Miceral’s towel struck Farrell in the face. Miceral grinned at him as it slowly sank into the tub. “Not bad for the old guy.”
A burst of water rose from the tub and engulfed Miceral. The liquid swirled around Miceral and slowly lifted him off his feet. Farrell focused intently so he didn’t crush his partner as he moved him closer to the tub. Once Miceral was inches away, Farrell lowered him to the ground and pulled the water back into the tub, leaving his body completely dry.
“A trick I’ve been practicing.” He winked at Miceral. The towel rose from the tub, and water rained down from the cloth. “That ought to be drier than when you threw it at me if I did the spell correctly.”
After rubbing it against his face, Miceral nodded. “You must be doing it right. It is as dry as it was when I retrieved it from the closet. Keep practicing and you’ll be able to control the ocean.”
Miceral moved around the tub, picked up a bar of soap, and began to wash Farrell’s back. Farrell leaned back and let Miceral’s strong hands glide over his body.
“By the Six, that feels good.” He sighed to emphasize how much he enjoyed the pampering. “But you have it wrong. It’s harder to control and work on a smaller scale than it is to manipulate larger quantities. Creating a wave and sending it to swamp a ship is easier than keeping control of the water to carry you across the room without squeezing you to death. Just as it’s easier to send a wall of power across a battlefield than it is to strike just one individual among many.”
“Ah.” Miceral stopped rubbing Farrell’s back. “Too detailed for me. Sometimes it’s better to agree with me than try to explain things.”
“Yes, love. I keep forgetting how simple you are when you want to be.” Farrell reached for another bit of soap but a hand shoved him under the water.
Farrell popped his head up immediately, coughed, and turned around.
“Sorry.” Miceral looked sincere. “I didn’t mean to dunk you all the way under. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a bit of water, but I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me if you’re feeling guilty.”
“Wicked child, you’ll be the death of me.” Miceral began to massage Farrell’s neck. “Finish your bath and I’ll see about making amends.”
“You look well, Your Majesties.” Jagwin wore new armor and had the insignia of his rank on his shoulders. “The special armor you wore during today’s sparring session is the talk of the palace and the city beyond.”
Farrell had suggested he cast a spell to make it appear as if he wore his new armor, but Miceral rejected the idea. They had helped each other get dressed to the chagrin of their guard.
“Why do I suspect you’re trying to tell me something, Captain?”
“It’s not my place to critique your choice of clothing, Your Majesty.”
“But you are, only I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.” Farrell looked at Miceral, who shook his head. “If I’m doing something wrong, I’d appreciate you telling me rather than hinting at it so you don’t risk offending me.”
“It has been reported you don’t want to wear your armor.” Jagwin dropped back to walk beside Farrell. “Dwarves not only expect you to wear armor, they expect you to wear this suit because it has been touched by the hand of Khron.”
“This would be easier if dwarves counted more wizards among their numbers.” Farrell wanted to avoid this debate, but it found him wherever he went. “But you needn’t worry. I’ll be sure to wear it while I’m in Colograd.”
“Just in Colograd?”
“Typically I don’t wear armor, but this new suit is no worse than wearing a formal outfit for state occasions. Given its ability to store energy for magic, I’ll consider wearing it whenever I leave Haven.”
Jagwin nodded, and Farrell saw the hint of a smile on his lips. “Better than an outright ‘no.’”
Despite Thrinton’s assurances that dinner would be an informal gathering, the setup reminded Farrell of every formal affair he’d attended. A raised head table—with Farrell and Miceral in the center—and a separate head table for the heads of all Six temples in Colograd plus Lamenar and Aswick dominated the hall. Clerics from the other temples, important-looking dwarves, and a small army of staff waited on them with all the deference usually shown at a royal dinner.
The dwarves sitting below maneuvered to say or do something that would catch the attention of those on the dais. Twice fights nearly broke out among the nobility, and a third was quelled before it started when Thrinton threatened to remove all guests from the room if anothe
r outburst occurred.
Farrell spent much of the meal watching the other dwarves and sorting out hostile looks from curious ones. Twice he missed a question asked of him, but Miceral prodded him. The third time it happened, Miceral had been talking to Drendar, and Father Aswick had to nudge him.
“Are you deliberately ignoring everyone to make them mad at us?” Miceral asked.
“No, I was calculating how much power I need to turn the lot of them into swine and send them to the nearest pig farm.”
Miceral glared at him but didn’t answer.
“It’s not turning them into pigs that has me worried,” Farrell continued. “It’s the effort needed to reach Nerti and Klissmor and escape that I’m not sure about.”
“Try to focus on the conversation instead.” Miceral didn’t sound amused. “I think Thrinton and Drendar would be displeased if you turned their supporters into farm animals.”
“That ruins all my fun.” Farrell, however, did his best after that to pay better attention.
In time—a period that felt like an eternity—servants removed the plates and the remaining food. Despite their size, dwarves ate a surprising amount. The few scraps that remained belied the mountain of food served during the course of the meal. A server tried to refill Farrell’s mug, but he declined as he had all night.
“Is the quality of our ale or wine not to your liking?” Thrinton asked, after he watched the exchange.
“I rarely drink spirits of any kind. A drunk wizard is a dangerous wizard.” Farrell saw Aswick and Wasquar nod. “Since I rarely consume alcohol, my tolerance is low, and I get drunk on even small amounts.”
Drendar pounded his tankard on the table. “Come now. Is there really any danger to anyone, or are you worried about your pride?”
The tone Drendar used suggested what he thought. “Grand Master Heminaltose was my first teacher.” Farrell waited long enough to be sure he had their attention. “He was as composed and proper a wizard as I’ve ever met. When he was a young man of one or two hundred, he leveled a good portion of a major nobleman’s castle during a drunken outburst. According to the tale Grand Master Sanduval told, Heminaltose had consumed more ale than he should have and began seeing enemies everywhere. He lashed out with his considerable skill and destroyed a load-bearing wall. The structure might have survived, but he destroyed two support columns in his attempt to kill the guards who rushed to stop him.”
“What ended his rampage?” Father Wasquar asked.
“A combination of too much to drink, too much exertion, and a half dozen master wizards banding together to put a sleeping spell on their colleague,” Farrell said. “He was so drunk he didn’t ration his energy, which added to the destructive force of his spells.”
“What of this noble?” Thrinton asked. “I’m certain he didn’t appreciate losing half his home.”
Farrell smiled and nodded. “Heminaltose spent much of the next three years fixing the damage—for free, of course. When he first caught me drunk, he lectured me on the cost of drinking and how it was too expensive a vice.”
“What destruction did you cause before you learned the same lesson?” Wasquar asked.
“I have a burn mark this wide from my nape to my tailbone to remind me why drinking too much is a fool’s game.” Farrell held his thumb and forefingers as wide apart as he could.
“How did you get that?” Drendar asked.
“Heminaltose lectured me on the cost of drinking while I was drunk.” Farrell relived the conversation in his mind. “I told him that just because he couldn’t hold his ale, I didn’t have that problem.
“My master had more important issues to deal with at the time than a drunk sixteen-year-old. Rather than let me sleep it off and try to reason with me when I was sober, he decided to teach me a painful lesson. He smiled in a way I’d learned meant I’d crossed the line and told me he wanted to test my ability to shield myself. Without giving me much time to prepare, he attacked—my back.”
“Your back?” Drendar looked shocked. “What a cowardly thing to do.”
“Like with soldiers, defending what you can’t see behind you is harder than what is in front of you. But unlike warriors, we can shield ourselves all the way around. Learning to guard your back as well as your front is one of the hardest lessons to learn as a young wizard.
“I was too impaired to effectively guard my front from a wizard as skilled as Heminaltose, much less my back. His attack shredded my shield like thin cloth.”
“Surely your master had healers at his school?” Wasquar looked shocked.
“Oh yes, Heminaltose had some of the most skilled healers in Ardus at Haven. But he refused to let them do more than ensure my wounds didn’t become infected or cause any lasting damage. He told them not to ease the pain as a reminder of my hubris.”
“That would be a powerful reminder, indeed,” Aswick said.
“Indeed, but it got worse for me. The combination of my wounds and how much I drank made me violently sick to my stomach. It was a few years before I could even smell ale without getting nauseous.”
“Then we are pleased you have not been drinking, Your Majesty.” Thrinton punctuated his words with an overly foppish bow. “We all partook of the excellent ale and would be unable to defend ourselves should you mistake us for demons.”
“Since he is sober, we can drink all the more knowing we have him to guard our backs. To King Farrell!” Drendar drained the rest of his ale as the nobles below laughed. He slammed his cup on the table and motioned for someone to refill it.
The others in the room, including Miceral, emptied their cups and brought them down with a clank. Farrell sipped his cup as he tried to decipher Drendar’s remarks. Outwardly he toasted Farrell, but the remark about guarding their backs had the ring of mockery.
“It was meant sincerely, Little One,” Nerti said.
Though he’d become more accustomed to her thoughts appearing in his mind, it still took him by surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“In dwarfish culture, one shares his failures only with his equals or betters. A king would never recount a tale of his teacher scarring him with those beneath him. It would be a sign of weakness. By sharing the tale of your punishment, you showed them you do not believe you have status above them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before? It will be even harder to assert my position now.”
“I should have warned you, it’s true, but this is a positive. Drendar toasted you as King Farrell. In that, he let it be known to everyone here that he acknowledges you as king of Trellham and that he stands beside you should any oppose your position.”
Farrell watched Drendar, and he appeared more relaxed than at any time since he’d met the dwarf. His laugh—a roar that echoed off the walls— had lost the sneering, condescending tone and sounded full of mirth.
“Perhaps he has decided to defend me, but will he follow me?”
“Provided you do not ask him to do something foolish, yes. He publicly recognized your position. The king of Trellham is the high king. He would not have made such a public gesture if he were going to back away later.”
Drendar’s turnaround surprised him. He expected grudging fealty and secret opposition. “That is a positive development, but doesn’t his rapid change of heart make you suspicious?”
“Do not consider his actions through the eye of human behavior. The public acclamation can be trusted. Otherwise he would lose face with his own subordinates. He respects you now and considers you his friend. Not pressing him to immediately accept you as king was a wise decision.”
“Wisdom is not knowledge, but knowledge can aid wisdom. Wisdom cannot be taught, but it can be learned. My Gift will aid all who seek wisdom for the right reasons.”
Farrell didn’t recognize the voice in his mind. “Did you hear that?” he asked Nerti.
“Hear what?”
“The voice that said wisdom cannot be taught.”
“I heard nothing.”
&nb
sp; A particularly loud round of laughter drew his attention back to the others around him. He hadn’t imagined the voice, but if Nerti didn’t hear it, then he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the source. The last thing he wanted was to speak to another of the Six.
Chapter Twenty-One
Miceral and Farrell arrived first the next morning at the Chamber of Kings. The two Cologradian guards stationed by the doors snapped to attention as soon as they crossed the threshold. Despite strong opposition from Jagwin, they only brought two guards to the meeting.
“It is not too late to have the extra guards brought to the Chamber,” Jagwin said when they reached the door.
“We want to show we are all equals.” Miceral nodded to the guards as they saluted. “Just because we can doesn’t mean we should.”
Jagwin pulled back Farrell’s chair, and the other guard did the same for Miceral. “You are king, not I, but I would have preferred a full complement of guards.”
Thrinton and Wasquar entered next. Thrinton raised an eyebrow after he noted their escorts.
“A generous decision, my lords,” he said. “Drendar will not know what to make of it.”
Father Aswick arrived, and on glancing at Jagwin, he frowned. “Where are the rest of your guards?” he asked testily.
“These are all we require.” Miceral let a hint of annoyance creep into his voice.
Aswick considered the answer for a moment, then shook his head. Farrell avoided his gaze.
“Dinner was excellent, Thrinton,” Farrell said. “I particularly enjoyed the fruit.”
Thrinton smiled. “That pleases me. The chefs worked hard to serve traditional food you would like.”
The sound of steel on stone presaged the arrival of Fracturn’s king and high priest. Like everyone else before, Drendar’s eyes focused on the pair of guards standing behind Farrell and Miceral. He quickly surveyed the rest of the room and looked to Father Lamenar. Farrell thought the priest winked at them.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 90