“Ah.” He knew the type. “Time permitting, I’d like to meet Barett.”
Pfellcuk smiled. “I’ll see that it happens. Tell me, why are you out here when they discuss weighty things inside?”
Farrell snorted. “Kel is better suited to explaining important things to monarchs.”
They sat in silence. Farrell hadn’t come out to engage in conversation, so the quiet didn’t feel awkward. The sun peeked over the walls, and he began to sweat under his armor. Rojas shifted his place to avoid the sun.
“Are you the successor Kel has been waiting for all these centuries?”
Farrell hadn’t expected the question, and he snapped his head toward Pfellcuk. The older man turned to face him.
“Don’t look so surprised. Kel and I have been friends for centuries.” His expression turned serious and the whimsical, eccentric facade disappeared. “When I was your age, he helped train me, believing I might be the one. When that proved false, he had me seek out Master Heminaltose.”
“Are you a descendant of his house?”
“No, but I can trace my line to Bren and Geena. Brint, Kel’s second-oldest brother, died in the war that ended Vadra’s rule. He had two daughters who survived the fighting, and one of them, Gleona, had magical talent. Kel raised her as one of his own children, and she married one of Velchuck’s grandsons.”
Another relative he didn’t know existed. “Clearly the Six made certain to scatter Their servants around Nendor.”
“Perhaps, though the Six aren’t responsible for me living in Othasus. This has been my family’s home since Velchuck was new to his power. My ancestors played a large role in the kingdom’s success over the centuries.”
Farrell remained unconvinced. The Six no doubt wanted Velchuck’s family to live in western Lourdria. Kel knew about them and Samruel and his family. How many other “secrets” was he privy to?
“You haven’t answered my question,” Pfellcuk said.
Farrell snapped out of his thoughts. “No, I haven’t.”
He braced for the response but didn’t expect laughter. “Your grandsire can be tight-lipped at times, as well.”
“I never said I’m a descendant of Kel’s.”
“No, you didn’t, but I am neither blind nor as befuddled as I pretend to be at times.” He raised a bushy eyebrow. “That and Kel announced you as such to King Gorfin.”
“That he did.” The entire conversation didn’t sit well with Farrell. The absentminded-wizard act had been a trick. Thankfully, he’d been cautious.
Pfellcuk inclined his head in Farrell’s direction. “I see Kel has trained you well. I will respect your desire for privacy, at least until your grandfather can join us and vouch for me. In the meantime, we should go inside. This time of year, the midday sun is very strong.”
The meeting with the king and his ministers lasted until late afternoon. Pfellcuk was an entertaining guide. He showed Farrell and Rojas around the palace, stopping often to provide commentary. Farrell felt certain Gorfin would not have approved of Pfellcuk sharing the more colorful stories.
Pfellcuk didn’t seem upset that Farrell hadn’t confirmed his lineage. He didn’t ask again as he walked them around. Several hours later, Nerti let him know when the meeting ended. She also advised him he needed to attend a state dinner. He wanted to get out of it, but there was no way he could avoid the obligation, and he let out an audible sigh.
“Problems, Your Majesty?”
“It seems King Gorfin is fond of formal dinners.”
“In truth, he is not,” Pfellcuk said. “This is in your honor. No dwarf king ever paid a state visit to Othasus. If that weren’t occasion enough, there has never been a human king of the dwarves. What ruler would pass an opportunity to touch his name to such a momentous event?”
“I don’t feel like being part of a momentous event,” Farrell said. “I find such events tedious and a waste of time. No doubt Kel will lecture me in the morning about my bad behavior at dinner.”
“I find it hard to believe that the dwarves haven’t held numerous feasts in your honor already.”
“They have, I just find good reasons not to be there. When I can’t avoid them, I never stay late.” He shrugged when he saw Pfellcuk’s incredulous look. “The dwarves don’t count many great wizards among their number. All I have to say is I am drained from all the magic I have done, and I can leave without too many questions. That and my life partner and co-high king quite enjoys these events. His presence is more than enough to satisfy decorum.”
“I see your grandfather has taught you well.”
Farrell made a sour face. “And we were doing so well avoiding this topic.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to pick at that wound. I spoke without thinking.”
“No offense taken.” Farrell wondered if he was making too much of this. Kel wouldn’t have brought them here if he hadn’t trusted Pfellcuk. But Kel also didn’t expect to find the wizard in the capital. Farrell would be able to ask his grandfather soon enough. “Has Kel given you many details about what he’s doing?”
“That is a question I cannot answer. It would require that I know all his plans, and I do not. I knew he searched for his successor, but I have only seen him sporadically over the last two hundred years.”
“When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“That is something you will need to ask him.”
Farrell chuckled. “Well said, sir. You have been a gracious host and an entertaining guide. But now I need to find someone to take me to my rooms so I can prepare for the feast. It would vex my guards to no end if I didn’t show up presentable.”
“Presentable would hardly suffice,” Pfellcuk said, looking far too amused. “They hold you in high regard, but it is a tenet of dwarf culture that their king represent them in all aspects of public life. Even you and your great power can’t avoid that duty.”
“Nor would I try. I’ve learned I can’t win this debate.”
Pfellcuk nodded and tapped his staff on the stone. “I’ll request a suitable escort to take Your Majesty to your room.”
The dinner ended up being more tedious and irritating than Farrell had anticipated. It started well. Gorfin was a good conversationalist and had a wicked, wry sense of humor. But he couldn’t give Farrell his full attention.
Seated on Farrell’s other side was the grand duke of somewhere-or-other. The man told Farrell many times he was the king’s last living uncle so often, Farrell forgot his name. The grand duke also made repeated requests for a potential trade deal with the dwarf kingdoms. Finally, Gorfin rescued Farrell and took him to meet Othasus’s other leading citizens.
Throughout dinner, Farrell watched Kel and Pfellcuk talk. Often their conversation would get animated or they’d laugh. Farrell almost regretted not answering Pfellcuk’s questions, but being cautious had been prudent. He hadn’t heard of Pfellcuk before their trip. Nor had he known Kel had trained Pfellcuk. Since Kel wouldn’t say why he wanted to talk to his former student, silence was better than saying too much.
Gorfin asked about military aid, and it took Farrell a moment to shake off his wandering thoughts.
“We can’t offer much help other than information,” Farrell said. “What limited troops we have are needed to defend Ardus.”
“Limited troops?” Gorfin appeared confused. “You’re high king of the dwarves. Surely you have more than you suggest.”
He shook his head. “Trellham is now the least of the three realms. They’ve not had the last three thousand years to recover from the devastation of the first war. The high kings may only command the forces of all three dwarf nations when we are acting in concert. I could ask King Drendar or King Thrinton to send you aid, but I could not order it.
“My suggestion would be to request a meeting with King Randgar in Agloth. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the Ze’arderian people have returned. Seritia and Khron have directed Ze’arder and Colograd to work together. They are leading the fight against Me
glar on Lourdria.
“Agloth’s central location makes it the ideal spot to head the opposition. With Dumbarten to the west, Colograd to the south, and Othasus to the east, you will be able to respond to any threat from multiple directions.”
Gorfin rubbed his chin and nodded. “That would be advantageous. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting with the kings of all four nations and any other allies as well, of course.”
“That is a good suggestion.” Farrell nodded to hide his amusement that Gorfin included himself among the great powers of Lourdria. “I’m certain Mother Jolella can make the needed arrangements. Since it was your idea, I’ll let you send the request so she knows you deserve the credit.”
“Thank you.” Gorfin paused as if to say more but stopped.
“I’ve found that friends and allies are poorly served if we don’t speak our minds.” Farrell raised an eyebrow as Gorfin squinted at the hint. “You want to ask or tell me something, yet you do not. Whatever it is, please say it.”
“Your Majesty is perceptive.” Gorfin looked embarrassed. “I hesitate to say this because . . . well, for reasons which will be clear when I do.”
Farrell didn’t answer. He’d taken Gorfin as far as he could without forcing him to say the words. With a sigh and a nod, Gorfin continued.
“Pfellcuk is . . . he’s no longer sane.” He whispered the last word and glance in Pfellcuk’s direction. “Or to be trusted.”
“What has he done that leads you to that conclusion?”
“His granddaughter, Master Othella, brought this to my attention. He spends most of his time in that rundown castle in the mountains, working in private. Once she arrived unannounced and watched him pouring over clay models, muttering to himself.
“That would only speak to his lost sanity. Then he cast a spell, and the figures transformed into misshapen creatures. Her description matches what my intelligence branch sent me of a Chamdon.”
Farrell couldn’t hold back a reaction.
“Yes, Your Majesty, exactly. He is either in league with Meglar or creating a rival army to conquer Lourdria.” He stole another glance at the two wizards. “With Othella’s help, we’ve taken steps to contain him before he can launch his plans. Your grandfather’s arrival complicates things. We can deal with Pfellcuk as we’ve laid the plans to stop him, but he and Kel? I doubt all my wizards combined could stop the two of them.”
That explained Gorfin’s reluctance to mention the issue. It also should have justified Farrell’s decision to remain silent, but it didn’t. Pfellcuk might not be as sharp as he once was, but Farrell detected nothing evil in the man.
“Rojas?”
“Yes, Chosen?” The response sounded sleepy, but Farrell ignored it.
“How much can you detect from a person about their nature?”
“There is no way to answer that. Each person is different, as is what I can sense. A variety of factors come into determining what is there and what isn’t. Sometimes what I can’t detect tells me more than what I can.”
“What about Pfellcuk? Did you pick up anything?” Farrell held off telling his friend what he was looking for to avoid tainting his answer.
“Clearly you want something specific, but you want my untreated answer. Your friend is an interesting human. Like you, he could hide much, but as I said, that would tell me he was secretive. Yet he didn’t. His words were honest. If anything, the only deception I found was his attempt to appear confused.”
“And what of Gorfin?” Farrell stared at Kel and Pfellcuk to give the king the impression he considered his words. In a sense he was, but now he considered if the deception was coming from Gorfin.
“He is easier to read,” Rojas said. “He is anxious and concerned but trying to project a calm, friendly appearance. His words are also honest. Whatever he is feeling, he isn’t trying to deceive you.”
“If it comes to it, I can deal with Kel.”
“You can?” The doubt in Gorfin’s voice was expected. “No disrespect meant.”
“None taken.” Farrell turned to face the king. “Should Kel prove our enemy, and I assure you he is not, Nerti, Flemin, Rojas, and myself will be able to subdue him.”
“Perhaps you four can enlist him to neutralize Pfellcuk?”
“I will need to speak to Nerti and Kel before I can commit to anything.” Farrell held up his hand. “But I would hold off on whatever you plan to do to stop Pfellcuk. If you spring this on him before I can speak to Kel, my grandfather will defend his friend. To clarify something, I will only oppose Kel if he is proven to be an enemy of the Six. Otherwise you can expect me to stand with him, and you absolutely don’t have the power to contain the two of us.”
“Understood.” Gorfin sounded worried. “I hope your delay doesn’t become our ruin.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Farrell passed the remainder of the evening in a fog. His assessment of Gorfin and Pfellcuk mirrored Rojas’s opinion, but that created a quandary. If Gorfin was being honest, then Pfellcuk was at a minimum creating an army of Chamdon. It didn’t matter why he wanted them or who he meant to send then to conquer. Chamdon were a vile plague on Nendor. Dark magic was addictive, and no decent wizard dabbled in those spells. But Rojas believed Pfellcuk hadn’t deceived them, either. A piece was missing, and Farrell needed Kel’s advice to sort it out.
To speak to Kel, he needed the endless dinner to end. Twice he had to ask the king to repeat himself. The second time Gorfin followed where Farrell had been looking. A few minutes later, Gorfin stood and excused himself.
Farrell had hope Kel would leave, but he and Pfellcuk continued to talk. Their conversation had become less animated and more serious. Rather than sit and stew, he told Kel he was leaving and asked him to come by his rooms before he retired.
Kel acknowledged him but didn’t look up from his conversation. When Farrell added the word alone, he glanced over before agreeing.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Greigel had led them to his rooms until he stood in front of the door.
“I can lead you here, Your Majesty, but you’ve locked the door with magic.”
Farrell looked at his guard and blinked. It took a moment to register, but when it did, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”
“What did the king say to you that has you this unsettled?”
“What?”
“We watch everything you do, Your Majesty.” Greigel’s tone lacked even a hint of humor.
“Oh. It’s nothing for you to concern yourself about.” Greigel frowned, but Farrell waved off any comments. “Sorry, what I mean is he shared some information about something somewhere else. There is no danger here.”
Greigel didn’t relax. “But there is elsewhere.”
“Unclear.” He shrugged. “That is why I need to speak to Kel. He should be along soon, I hope.”
Soon was more than an hour later. By then Farrell had overthought the situation. He’d had a long conversation with Nerti and Rojas and was on edge when someone knocked on his door. Before he could react, it opened and Kel walked in.
“I had planned to retire for the night and speak to you in the morning, but Flemin insisted I come now. What has you this unsettled?”
“I’m not troubled.” Farrell hadn’t counted on Kel creating the opening, and it threw off his prepared speech. “Gorfin approached me at dinner. He passed along information that I can’t reconcile with what I believe to be true. “As you know, I spent much of the afternoon with Pfellcuk, and I quite like him. Rojas and Nerti both say he is trustworthy—”
“Grandson, I’m tired, so spare my feelings and tell me what you don’t want to say.” There was no admonishment; Kel sounded spent.
“Pfellcuk is experimenting with creating Chamdon.” He sounded like a novice wizard afraid a spell had gone wrong. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but his control slipped. “According to the king, Othella, Pfellcuk’s granddaughter, caught him practicing on clay figurines. They morphed from
humans into what he said matched their information of Chamdon. He fears Pfellcuk is either in league with Meglar or trying to imitate him.”
“I see.” Kel sat and set his staff against the arm of the chair. Resting his elbows on the armrests, he steepled his fingers. “What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know.” Farrell pulled a chair closer to sit opposite Kel. “No one believes Pfellcuk is trying to deceive us . . . well, not beyond his befuddled act.”
Kel chuckled. “He looks a bit eccentric so he has taken to playing that role to keep people off-balanced. Your insinuation is accurate; his mind is still sharp.”
“Not only do we trust him, I didn’t detect even a whiff of dark magic from him.”
“Nor have I.”
“So I assumed, but . . .” Farrell exhaled and shrugged.
“But you can’t dismiss what Othella saw.”
“Correct. I can’t imagine a reason for tinkering with that spell.”
“Can’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I believe you have already voiced such a thing.”
“I have?” Farrell racked his memories to find what Kel referred to.
“Weren’t you the one who wondered if you could undo the spell that made someone into a Chamdon?”
“Yes, but as everyone pointed out, it would be a waste of time. Even if I undid the magic, the damage would be—”
“Done. Yes. But the effort would not be pointless.”
“What?” Farrell’s heart rate jumped. “So Pfellcuk is experimenting with making Chamdon?”
Kel met his gaze with a steady look. “Not making Chamdon, unmaking them. Pfellcuk is seeking a way to undo the spell.”
“Why try? Isn’t that futile?”
“You don’t see the purpose because you are nothing like your father.”
“What does that have to do with this?” Farrell asked, irritated by the attempt to divert the topic.
“Everything, my dear boy. Absolutely everything.” He held up a finger. “You are so focused on saving them—something your father couldn’t fathom—that you miss the end game of Pfellcuk’s labors. What would happen if an army of Chamdon reverted back to normal?”
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