The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  Two guards took note of her as she approached the king’s quarters. Jenoc had made sure she was introduced to all the servants on this floor so she wouldn’t have to use her ring to gain access. Apparently trying to maintain too many compulsions at once was overwhelming for even the strongest minds, to say nothing of frightened teenage girls.

  The guard on the right smiled at Maely before cracking the door and peeking in through the small open slit. He then nodded at her and opened the door wider so she could slip in. Maely did so, nearly tripping again on her too-long dress. She caught herself just before breathing out a curse and quickly made her way to a woman silently hovering over a tray on a small round table.

  The king’s quarters were not so much a bedchamber as they were an apartment. Doors on each wall told her this was some kind of antechamber, and this place had multiple rooms. So perhaps she wasn’t expected to stand next to the king’s bed ready to empty his chamber pot as she’d imagined.

  Maely curtsied to the other servant and the woman spared her only a cursory glance before whispering, “You’re late.”

  A very vulgar expletive nearly escaped Maely’s lips, but she managed to tamp down her temper and bob her head in practiced humility. “I’m sorry.”

  The woman sighed and shook her head. She pointed to the teakettle and cups on a silver tray she’d been fussing over. “His Majesty likes a spot of tea before he retires for the night. But we never know when that will be because of his busy schedule. So to be sure the tea stays warm, you will need to dump it every hour and make a fresh pot. Understand?”

  Maely nodded though she wanted to comment that this wasted an awful lot of water, and tea. Didn’t the king have a warming stone?

  “Now, I just made this, so you will not have to dump it for an hour.”

  Maely nodded, biting off her criticism with a “Yes, ma’am.”

  The servant woman gave her a satisfied nod and then added, “You are to remain in this room. Only go into the other rooms if the king calls you.”

  Maely nodded again, the temptation to compel the woman to stop telling her what to do and leave almost overtaking her, but she controlled herself. While she was sure she could get away with it, Jenoc had ordered her to only use the ring on the king, and she wasn’t about to risk the Allosian man’s wrath.

  The serving woman gave several other irritating orders Maely only half heard, and then left. Maely waited to make sure the woman wasn’t going to come back before she moved to the center of the room. The other doors were closed, and so she went to each in turn and quietly opened them just enough to see into the rooms beyond. The king wasn’t in any of them. He must still be about business elsewhere in the palace, so Maely retreated back to the corner table and brazenly took a sip from one of the king’s tea cups. It was delicious tea! Spiced with cinnamon. Cinnamon was Maely’s favorite, and a rare commodity back in Genra.

  I’ll be able to have cinnamon whenever I want. Jek and I can have an entire pantry filled with all of the expensive spices! She had the power to make virtually anyone do what she wished. She would never need to farm again, or worry about money. The world was hers, and she would share it with Jekaran. The ring was her road to a better life with the man she loved.

  But what if he didn’t love her back?

  Then I’ll make him love me! The fierce thought came unbidden, almost as if it were from someone else, but Maely knew it was hers. Would she use the ring on Jekaran? The idea disturbed her, but not as much the fact that she had already decided she would do it. I won’t need to. He loves me already; he just doesn’t realize it. This time her mantra didn’t entirely dispel her guilt.

  Voices echoing from the hallway made Maely jump, and she quickly put the cup of tea she’d been sipping from down on the tray. Too quickly apparently, as it tipped over and spilled cinnamon tea all over. She quickly searched the table for something to soak up the brown liquid, and nearly knocked the entire tray to the floor. Just then the door swung open and a tall man with broad shoulders, a short trimmed gray beard, and a golden circlet swept into the room.

  The king. Jenoc had inserted his image directly into her mind as she had never actually seen him.

  “Why not call the army back?” another voice echoed from the hallway outside.

  Maely looked at the doors just in time to see another man enter the room. He too was tall, but where the king was dressed in a robe and cape, this man was wearing armor. His hair was long and golden, curling just behind the ears and at the base of his neck, and his eyes were the bluest Maely had ever seen.

  This must be the prince.

  Another figure entered the room, and he was so tall he had to stoop under the archway just to enter. He was completely covered in white fur and wore a tabard like the other soldiers, but she couldn’t see any armor underneath it. But it was his face that startled Maely the most. It definitely wasn’t a human face, not with that long charcoal muzzle, black nose, and white fangs.

  The creature glanced at Maely, and she was suddenly aware that she’d been staring. She quickly dropped her eyes to the silver tray on the table, and busied herself mopping up the rest of the tea with a cloth napkin.

  “I have already told you, Raelen. I will not let the Allosian warmonger bully us.”

  Although Maely knew she was witnessing an argument, the king’s voice did not sound angry.

  “With the army so close to the border, he could use his magic to pose as any one of us and order an attack that we may not be able to halt in time.” The prince, on the other hand, spoke with great passion. “I just think it unwise to leave him this advantage.”

  “Are you questioning my wisdom, Raelen?”

  Raelen That was the prince’s name. Maely stole a glance at the man, and couldn’t deny that he was the very picture of what everyone said royalty was supposed to be. How old was he? His beardless, youthful face suggested he wasn’t all that much older than Jekaran.

  “Of course not, father.”

  “Then there is nothing more to discuss!”

  “Father, I believe I know who the Allosian infiltrator is masquerading as!”

  The king scoffed. “Puzzled it out all on your own have you?”

  “No,” Raelen said quickly, and Maely thought she caught a hint of indignation in his tone. “I have had some of my servants shadow the suspect ever since the Allosian woman’s arrival.”

  “And who do you believe this ‘suspect’ to be?”

  “Loeadon,” Raelen said.

  Loeadon?

  “You have evidence?” The king’s tone no longer sounded sardonic, as if he were actually considering the possibility.

  The prince hesitated before answering. “Not as yet, but his behavior has been suspicious of late.”

  The king sighed. “You know the law, Raelen. You cannot bring an accusation against a member of the court without evidence.”

  “But you can execute a peasant boy for no reason?”

  Maely looked up at that. No–She had to stop herself from lashing out with her ring. Was she already too late? Had Jenoc lied to her?

  “No reason?” the king repeated dangerously. “He committed a capital offense!”

  “You already sentenced him for that. You know full well that his execution on the morrow is not for the justice of the crown, but so you can take his sword!”

  Tomorrow! She could still stop this, make the king rescind the order.

  “You speak so nobly of honoring the law, but you’re a hypocrite!” Raelen snarled. “You are no different from the politicking nobles of the court. Power is what you honor, not law!”

  Maely watched through her eyelashes as the king strode right up to his son, so close that their faces almost touched. “Do not push me, Raelen!” the king hissed.

  “Or what? You’ll marry me off to some rich old crone?”

  That was oddly specific. What was the prince referring to?

  Smack

  Maely flinched and just about spilled the entire kettle of c
innamon tea. The king had slapped his son. The prince’s pet bear growled, and the king looked up at it. He cocked an eyebrow at that, but said nothing as he returned his attention back to Raelen, who was now holding his cheek and staring stupidly at his father.

  “Do you think you are the only one who grieves for Saranna?” the king said through clenched teeth.

  Who’s Saranna?

  “You know nothing of what it means to rule or understand the burden I carry! You are a child holding to a fantasy that kings are wise and benevolent servants of the realm. If you want to someday wear this crown,” the king sharply gestured at his gold circlet, “then you need to grow up and learn what it really means to rule, what it means to make the hard decisions!

  “Your fanciful idea of a people’s king will bring down upon you all the vultures of the court. You would not hold the throne two days if I were to pass it to you now. Traitors and assassins are all about us, Raelen, looking for anything and anyone they could use to pull us down. We cannot afford to show any weakness even if it means we have to stomp on our conscience, or hurt those we love!”

  The king stared at his son for a long moment before turning away. “When you can demonstrate to me that you understand this, then I will heed your counsel. Until then, you are suspended from the court and banished from my presence!”

  Maely dropped her eyes back to the silver tray. She heard the swishing of the king’s cape followed by the slamming of a heavy door. She glanced up to see Raelen standing in the middle of the room next to his bear, looking defeated. She hurriedly went back to cleaning up the mess she’d made. She almost felt sorry for the prince.

  “Let me help you with that,” the prince said. Maely snapped her head up to find him taking his own red and gold silk handkerchief out of a pocket.

  “No, it’s going to smell like cinnamon!” Maely blurted out. Why had she said that?

  Raelen flashed a wan smile as he dabbed at the brown liquid. “I have others.”

  Maely met his eyes, and found herself speechless. The prince was probably the single most beautiful man she’d ever met. Not in the way Jenoc had been pretty, but a rugged, manly splendor.

  “I apologize that you had to witness that,” he said.

  Apologize? To a servant? Who was this man? Maely was tempted to believe he was actually sincere.

  “There we are,” he said. He left his soaked handkerchief on the table and then turned toward the door.

  Maely couldn’t summon her voice even to thank him as she watched the prince and his pet bear leave the room. She’d assumed he had been helping her because he wanted to take advantage. But no, the prince had been genuinely polite.

  Nobility.

  Did such a thing really exist among the rich and powerful? She hadn’t thought so. Maely had always believed that empathy came from a life of living with those who suffered together. Could a prince really care? The king seemed to think so as he accused Raelen of it.

  They are going to kill Jek. That re-focused her, and she thumbed the underside of her mother’s ring. She had a job to do. Jek’s life depended on it now more than ever.

  She let the thought of the king ordering Jek’s execution fuel the fire of her anger as she strode toward the room he’d disappeared into and flung the door open. The king was sitting behind a desk, writing on a parchment with a quill.

  He snapped his head up. “I did not summon you!”

  “No,” Maely said defiantly. “You didn’t.”

  The king narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Your mistress!” Maely said with an explosion of power.

  Raelen fumed as he stalked down the corridor.

  I am a clear brook flowing among the trees.

  I am a meadow of clover in summer.

  I am the moon silently watching the night.

  His father was a proud fool. How could he not see that Loeadon was this Allosian man in disguise? It was so obvious. He’d been an exceptionally gifted talis appraiser, arriving on the scene during one of the polymaths’ rare recruiting campaigns. He’d scaled the ladder of advancement very quickly, outstripping all of his peers and endearing himself to the head of their cadre, whose suspicious death ushered Loeadon into the chief position of spokesman he now held. All of this had happened in the short space of two years–something unprecedented in the history of the kingdom so far as Raelen knew. Father hadn’t seemed to think too much of that.

  Raelen touched his cheek where the king had struck him. It didn’t hurt anymore, not physically. The lingering sting was in his heart. He’d just begun to win the man’s respect and now he’d ruined it all by losing control and bringing up Saranna. He remembered his father’s surprising admission; “Do you think you are the only who grieves for Saranna?”

  Did his father grieve? Did he even care? He hadn’t shown it in any way Raelen could recognize, and he’d become something of an expert in reading his father although he still didn’t know what the man was thinking half the time.

  He turned a corner and was pleased to find Navarch Pariel striding toward him. He stopped and waited for the soldier to intercept him and offer a crisp salute before asking, “You have news?”

  Pariel nodded. “Yes, your highness.” And then the man pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut.

  Divine Mother, but he must be tired. I’ve been running him ragged. When was the last time he slept? “Tell me your news,” Raelen ordered.

  Pariel opened his eyes and nodded. Then in a hushed voice he said, “I broke into the polymath’s laboratory as ordered.”

  “What did you find?” Raelen asked eagerly.

  “Loeadon has constructed a plague box, as the king commanded, but the talis does not look to be functional.”

  Raelen nodded. “He is having trouble puzzling out how to finish it?”

  Pariel shook his head. “That was also my thinking, at first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rasheera smiles on us, my prince. For I was sifting through Loeadon’s books and papers when the man himself entered the room. I had just enough time to secrete myself within a closet where I heard him conversing with someone by way of a speaking stone.

  “I heard him addressing another polymath, speaking much of the sword talis, and how important it was that it not be in your father’s possession at the time of the boy’s execution which he is planning tomorrow after morning court.”

  “He wants it for himself,” Raelen realized.

  Pariel nodded. “And thus, it appears he has been neglecting the construction of the plague box in favor of plotting to take the sword.”

  Raelen shook his head. “But why? Would not finishing the plague box better further his purposes? Using such a thing on a rival country would be all that was needed to start a war.”

  Pariel smiled. “Had not my prince expertly frustrated his efforts by convincing his father to halt our attack on Haeshala.”

  Raelen nodded thoughtfully. “He’s improvising. He plans to take the sword for himself, which would give him the power to challenge my father in battle, kill him, and take the throne. Then he could order the attack to resume without any opposition.”

  “That was my conclusion as well.”

  “But why would an Allosian need a talis to defeat a human?” Raelen glanced at Gryyth. “Does not his spell-casting ability give him enough power to do that?”

  “Perhaps if the king held the power of the sword, it would be too much for the Allosian to best,” Pariel offered. “According to Loeadon, it is one of the most powerful talises he’s ever seen.”

  “But Loeadon is the Allosian. Can we really trust what he says?”

  Pariel shook his head. “A valid concern, my prince. However, his plotting to steal the sword would imply that he is telling the truth.”

  Raelen sighed. “Were you able to record what you heard?” he asked hopefully.

  Pariel shook his head. “I am sorry, my prince. I did not have the echo chime you’d
provided me. Please forgive my foolish oversight.”

  Raelen waved away Pariel’s apology. “Nonsense.” He glanced at Gryyth and saw in the bear-man’s eyes a reflection of his own thoughts. “We need to stop the boy’s execution.”

  “Mustn’t we go now to warn the king?” Pariel said.

  Raelen shook his head. “No, I’ve been banished from his presence.” Pariel waited for an explanation, but Raelen didn’t give him one. “What about an oath collar?”

  Pariel nodded thoughtfully. “If we could somehow get one onto Loeadon’s neck, then he’d have to reveal himself. But,” he hesitated and then carefully said, “The prince does know that those can be beaten. The Allosian’s magic would–”

  “Not one of the four originals forged by his own people.”

  Pariel’s eyes widened. “Your father owns such an artifact?”

  Raelen nodded. “He keeps it in the vault. If we can get it tonight, then I can confront Loeadon in morning court, challenge him to prove his innocence by donning the collar and swearing to the truth of his identity.”

  Pariel nodded. “That is a sound plan, my prince. But you said the king will not see you, and only he has the key to the vault.”

  Raelen smiled. “I am going to steal it.”

  Pariel’s face visibly paled. “You cannot. It is death for anyone to steal from the king, even you, my prince. To say nothing of defying his banishing you.”

  Raelen chuckled. “My father may be a hard man, but I doubt he would execute his heir to the throne. Not out of any familial affection, mind you, but because it would be for him a great inconvenience.” Would his father execute him? Before his father admited to grieving for Saranna he would’ve been more concerned, but now… Maybe his father had a heart after all.

  “Perhaps, but it could cause a world of political trouble if the other nobility think you and your father are at odds.” Pariel shook his head. “No, my prince. I cannot let you risk this.” He looked straight into Raelen’s eyes. “I will do it.”