The gnome shaman descended a couple of steps before reaching the Nelsian fountain in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by a large, blue Senarian couch on which sat a small well-dressed man. His black robe bore a five-inches-wide drawing of a cage on its back, the sigil of the Evinshanost. He had protruding, filthy, facial features that gave him a strong resemblance to rats. I realized that he was an Iktrit, a ratman of Gingia.
At the southern baluster of the roof, an Eredian officer had his back turned to the Iktrit as he watched the preparations for the event below. His broad shoulders, gray ruffled hair and the black ribbon tied on his long spear gave him away. I reckoned he was that officer I saw at the gates, the one that hid his resentment toward the Neligans’ activities toward the refugees.
On the couch facing the Iktrit across the fountain sat an enormous Brute. His forehead bore a metallic plate viciously molded into his skin and his right arm was a huge iron appendage. Wearing a bronze tunic and yellow pants, he was drinking wine from the fountain in a big jar with his eyes half closed. A great axe half his size sat beside him on the couch.
"Our dear friend Tinbone seems to be getting drunk," said a round and extremely well-dressed man in his late forties. Though it had been five years since the last time I saw him in the meeting in the Ibdomad, he hadn’t changed much and I identified him immediately. That was Edwin Borgman, the wealthiest noble in the western parts of the Eredian lands and the governor of Borg. He was leaning on the balcony’s baluster, several feet away from the Eredian officer. Down there, the huge stage was getting its final touches, preparing for the upcoming performances. His short hair was carefully cut, and his beard was perfectly combed.
"I warned you that this would happen if you kept drinking for nine hours straight," he said with a lifeless smile on face, keeping his eyes on the busy city three stories below. After a lingering silence, he left his spot and walked to the center of the roof.
"Neve…r...hic," said the Brute, bringing an ugly smile to the Iktrit’s face.
“Let us discuss a more serious matter, Lord Edwin. Don’t you think it is about time we give the people what they really want—a wild, exotic slave exhibition and not hide behind some pathetic poetry contest?” said the ratman in a squeaky voice.
“Yes, there’s a slave exhibition. I hosted this event as an answer to her highness’s request, Lady Baneca Darknar. Yet this is still the land of the Dargos.”
“You seem that you would rather not to host it. Do you see yourself beneath the challenge?” asked the ratman with a malicious look.
Edwin responded quickly, “Of course not. I just feel that we are terribly under-informed in a very dangerous game. You still do not see the whole picture, Ginto. You don’t see what I see.”
Quivering like a wet rat, Ginto nervously scratched his hairy, pointy nose saying. “I don’t fancy being kept in the dark, Lord Edwin. I am the representative of the Evinshanost and I cannot see the purpose of this damn poetry contest. How would this benefit the Chain of Cas?”
“First of all the winning poem or song is to be honored by becoming a part of Talor’s Plea. The parchments of Talor’s Plea will be hung over the Sea Door in Ardul’s Seal Day” Edwin replied as he shot a quick glance at the officer who deliberately kept himself out of the conversation.
“Nothing new there. Aren’t they always?” Ginto said.
“Princess Baneca wishes to hang the winning poem on the Sea Door herself this year. It will surely be a document worth the honor. It would be inscribed on the rarest and most exotic parchment of all, the scroll of Shagoth, The Singing Vampire (10) . Though vampires no longer exist, they left us a great legacy; the scrolls of Shagoth. The parchment is a gift by our friends from the frozen south.” This time it was the other gnome who was given a quick glance, which he repaid with a frightful grin.
Edwin’s facial expressions darkened as he continued, thoughts distant, “Everything is carefully managed by the Black Princess, and for now the contest seems to serve her purpose.” He glimpsed at Ginto and the Brute, daring them to disagree. Then quickly regained his confident attitude. “Whatever is coming, the Chain of Cas made it sure that the whole world will be watching.”
Ginto listened to him curiously and prepared a response, but was interrupted by Edwin asking for the book, "The Radimortum please.”
A plan ? I thought. The contest was just a masquerade, but for what?
The governor took one last distant look to the east then sat on the huge chair in the center of the roof–his back to the stairs and the tower. Then he said after a pause, "I wonder if Aster can see me from where he is?" He waved for me to come closer with the log book, and I stepped forward. “I wonder if he is still as watchful as he used to be. I fear for my city.”
Ginto stood up, holding his coarse hands behind his back as he took a couple of steps towards the balcony. He looked to the east, towards Erados, turning so I could only see his profile as he squinted. "You think too much of that wizard, Edwin. He is farther than he wishes to be from us."
"Not as far as I wish he was.” Edwin reached for the book in my hands without looking at me. "As long as he leads the Seekers and the Tower of Eclipse, our plan is in jeopardy."
"They practically don't exist,” said Ginto conclusively. “Aster is usually absent, and when he appears he is usually sleeping by the bed of his fading king. The Seeker’s line of grand wizards has nearly gone extinct, and Aster is too old for them to have much influence anymore. Their voice is barely heard by anyone other than the temple of Ardul, whose power is diminishing as well. I don’t expect anything from the Order of Eon after what was done in Karelya.”
Edwin shot another distant look to the east, across the plains of Eredia, and corrected Ginto. “What I have done in Karelya. And anyhow, as long as Aster still walks the halls of the Ibdomad, and his Seekers roam around in Dargos Keep, he is still heard, Ginto. The Seekers have ways of uncovering secrets.”
Edwin opened the book, flipping through it as he casually scanned the pages. I stood beside him as he went on, “So, despite of the presence of the Black Princess in the Ibdomad, the Chain cannot trust everything to Prince Garold. It keeps a very close eye on Aster and the rest of his ancient order, and on the Temple of Ardul.”
“Are you sure you are not just being too careful?” Ginto asked.
Looking up from the book to the Iktrit, Edwin said, “Perhaps. Maybe what happened in Erados five years ago during the meeting with Trador which ended with his sleep, and what happened in Karelya last week, are enough to break the Order of Eon for good. But something is happening in the Ibdomad. Our spies heard words speaking of an ‘un-dealt’ card somewhere, which greatly irritated our masters.”
“That is not all of our troubles,” Edwin went on. “Ginto, our old rivals still lurk, not fully out of the picture. At this very moment, word of what is happening must have reached the ears of the Yoshor of Nelsia. The Asais, the fanatic mighty defenders of the Towers of Cane, are still active outside Nelsia. Their prince still supports Trador.”
“But the odds —”
“There is no such a thing as being ‘too careful!’ The scheme of the Chain is not foolproof.” Edwin no longer looked at the book, but he clutched it fiercely as he spoke. “Nelsia by itself can sway the results of The War should it interfere. The same is true of the Hundred Clans of Patera. They follow a council of chiefs now. I don’t even need to remind you of the Mystics of Tethia and the power wielded by their women. Yes, the Chain of Cas controls the majority of Talor, but there are few powers out there still roam free.”
At last, the drunken Brute spoke. "The Brutes would crush their bones. All of them."
"Isn’t this what we all dream of night and day, Tinbone?" admitted Ginto.
Tinbone crunched up his eyebrows and attempted to stand up but failed and dropped on the couch.
Ginto suppressed a chuckle then turned to Edwin, who was looking at the log again. “Ease yourself, Lord Edwin. The days of the Orde
r of Eon are gone. Nothing will bring them back. You said it yourself. We didn’t defeat them on the battlefield, I will give them that, but wars are not necessarily won that way. Now they are just a handful of fading legends.”
“Fading, eh?” asked Edwin. He glanced at the Eredian officer who was still occupied by the preparations below. “Maybe true, but we cannot sway Eredia to our side simply because its king is not waking up. Neither can we replace him yet, so says the Eredian law. We must remain patient. We can’t afford any mistakes. It is a matter of only a couple of weeks now and Eredia must be ready for Garold’s rise.”
Edwin turned to the gnome who nodded with a frightening smile.
What news from our dungeon?” Edwin asked Ginto, moving on through the log book. “Get me some light here. It is getting too dark.” The gnome pointed to a lantern beside the huge chair. I picked it up, lit it and held it atop the Radimortum.
The ratman gladdened with the subject. “All of the slaves and prisoners are here.” He went on with details of the slave show, but my mind was elsewhere. There was little gain for me on this rooftop any longer. I thought about abandoning my disguise and bringing the unconscious gnome back from Veil. Besides, all Edwin’s possessions, rare as they might be, were still beneath me.
"Is the Evocke here yet?" asked Ginto. He must have been referring to Anarca.
Edwin handed the book back to me.
“Anarca, the Hope Ender, has indeed arrived.” Edwin stood up suddenly, yelling, "Give me the log again!"
I walked back toward him, holding out the book reluctantly. He hastily opened it, looking for something, and eventually stopped rifling through the pages.
"Damn!" Edwin said loudly, interrupting my thoughts and alerting the others. Even the Eredian officer turned from the scene below and looked at Edwin.
"What?" asked Ginto. The Brute seemed to be sobering up quite fast. He turned his renewed attention to Edwin for an answer as well.
"The Oaken Ring has sent someone," the governor replied, fully unnerved.
Ginto screeched as if something bit his tail off. "Still? After what happened to them? Who are they sending?" I could see that the officer started gaining interest in the conversation, more like ... hope
"A group of seven elves arrived. Elven names are written which I cannot read” said Edwin. “By the empty halls of Enizma, I knew that there was a risk. I shouldn’t have sent my Neligans to that damn forest.” He turned, addressing the gnome with a mixture of fear and anger, “Now they will consider me their main enemy.”
“Do not panic,” replied the gnome firmly. “It is the Chain of Cas who sent them the invitation.”
“ Why? “Couldn’t we just deal with the dwarves?”
The gnome replied with grave-cold calmness. “We need them here, Lord Edwin. Everyone needs to be in this scene because everyone is, in fact, part of this scene. The elves need to come and claim what belongs to them. How do you think we can bargain? Across miles of hills and plains across a mighty river that knows no quarter, and a forest older than my order? The dwarves and the barbarians as well, all must be here. It will be under the spotlights of this event that we will deal our final blow. Then everyone will fully understand their weakness.”
Both Edwin and Ginto remained silent, exchanging concerned looks. Then Edwin said, "I was promised that what we did in Karelya would not backfire on us. It will spare us the confrontation with the elves and the Oaken Ring, they said. We cornered a dormant titan… tired, lonely, and wounded as it is, but a titan nevertheless. And now we called it to my city.” No one spoke.
Falling into his chair, Edwin handed the book to me and waved for me and the gnome to leave. We turned, walking back to the roof’s entrance. Both of us froze in place when the double door was flung open and a small crowd stormed the roof.
Soldiers wearing silver-plated uniforms entered the roof. They had blue cloaks decorated with charging horses, their heads turned in profile, carved upon their armor. Their chest piece also carried the same horse carving –the sigil of the Dargos. As they entered the roof, they formed two rows.
"What in Zerga's name is happening? Who the hell are you and how dare you intrude upon the governor’s sanctum like this?" shrieked Ginto.
"I am really surprised with the ease with which you speak this name, entertainer,” came a firm voice from outside the door. “Especially on Dargos lands.”
Ginto raised his eyes slowly to the entrance and there he saw Valadas, the mighty leader of the Dargos. His handsome features were weary, and he was wearing the same silver uniform that his soldiers did, but with distinguished golden trims. He carried a silver helmet in his hands, decorated with the same horse's face carving, but the horse was an armored one.
Following him was A’tor. Grief radiated from the younger knight; what he went through in Bayland still seemed to take a toll on his soul.
The Eredian officer protectively moved beside his governor. Valadas glanced at the officer, slightly bowing his head. The latter repaid his bow with an even deeper one.
"Lord Valadas, welcome," Ginto said in his high-pitched rat voice, stretching his arms as he greets the knights. Valadas ignored him and walked directly toward Edwin. As Ginto retreated a couple of steps, the Iktrit suppressed his anger and looked to Edwin. Edwin held up a hand, telling him to stay back.
Valadas stopped two steps away from Edwin, looking at him coldly. He then moved to the balcony to gaze outward. I could see A’tor place himself between the Brute, Ginto, and Edwin.
"General Valadas?" asked Edwin, still sitting on his throne-like chair. “Our meeting is scheduled for after the event, not before it.”
"We had an agreement, Edwin," answered Valadas calmly, ignoring Edwin’s question and without turning his eyes from the city. "No slave exhibition.”
"No slaves? You must be joking!" squeaked Ginto.
A’tor gripped his shields, only to pause with a simple look from Valadas. The Eredian officer squeezed the hilt of his sword as he protectively took a step toward Edwin.
"Talk to me one more time rat, and you will spend the rest of your life in a cage where your feet don't fit," said Valadas. He turned to look directly into Ginto’s eyes. Ginto nearly spoke again, but under Valadas’s gaze, he lowered his eyes slowly.
The Dargos leader turned to Edwin again. “We agreed to these preparations in order to protect the important meeting from any attempts to sabotage it. With everyone here, no one dares to make any trouble. This is why we approved the singing contest. But you exploited our leniency and made a slave festival out of it.”
"You know we can't help it, Lord Valadas," said Edwin as he stood up and walked to the balcony beside the knight. He continued in a lower tone as if sharing a secret with the knight, “Lady Baneca does not tolerate chains. Rules and limits are chains which Searing Summit strive to break. This is an axiom of the Chain of Cas. Everyone is welcome and everything is permitted.” He added before Valadas could comment, “And our crown prince has agreed to that. This will multiply the number of audience tenfold in case you didn’t notice. Isn’t this the purpose?" He finished his speech steadily.
What is your plan, Black Princess? I bit my lips, wondering.
“Officially, Baneca came to our lands as a messenger. Her engagement to the prince is not official. She is in no position to prohibit or admit anything. Our agreement with her was a simple prisoner exchange, not a multinational slave fair.”
Edwin answered in the same low tone, "But it is not a simple prisoner exchange, my lord; it is the greatest one in the history of Talor. As for why it took the shape of a slave display, I don’t want to rush to conclusions, but I think intentions are clear. If the negotiations failed, then those whom you are negotiating for will serve their natural use as slaves.” He smirked presumptuously.
Brief silence reigned as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Then, Edwin turned to the stage below.
“Well,” Valadas said coldly, “where you stand is getting clearer every day
, Edwin. All masks will fall soon. Pray that when they do, you will be as far from the retribution of the Dargos as possible.”
On his way out, Valadas gave the Eredian officer a long look. He was followed out by his knights.
“Duty is not by choice sometimes,” said the Brute, cursing in his own tongue. He seemed much saner when he was sober. Then he dived right back into the wine fountain.
Ginto turned to Edwin. "Pathetic. Those knights have become pathetic.” The Iktrit seemed to have turned to anger the moment he was sure the knights were gone. Yet I could see that Edwin was shaky, barely managing to control his nerves. “Did he expect that we would just submit to his commands?”
“You see it now, Acar?” Ginto asked the officer. “I am quite sure that there is no proof of the weakness of the Dargos that could be clearer. What have they accomplished by this visit? Nothing. You have made the right choice by staying behind with your family. You were smart to accept our offer and guard the Borgian governorship.” The officer bit back any response to these words.
“You should be grateful for this gift. Here in Borg ...”
Edwin interrupted the Iktrit with a look the latter didn’t quite like, one that hid resentment and contempt. “You may leave now, Ginto,” commanded Edwin coldly. “Make sure that the Dargos don’t run into any of your slaves.”
For a moment, Ginto exchanged uneasy looks with the governor. Then the ratman bowed and left the roof.
Edwin looked at Tinbone and saw him dozing off on the couch. Then he turned back to the Eredian officer. “You think I like this, Acar? Do you imagine that I am pleased to see us so weak or the Dargos so helpless? Do you think I enjoy the company of an Iktrit? No, my faithful commander, not entirely true. But we need to know our place, and our size. We cannot defy the Chain or its three parents. No one can, not anymore. There are things that surpass poetic beliefs and ideals.”
The Dark Season Saga- the Final Harvest Page 24