Paladin's Oath

by M. H. Johnson

  Sir Gray nodded approvingly. “Very good. Baron de Calenbry is indeed credited with being a loyal supporter of the king, and no fault is to be found there, by the king's own decree. And you are correct, his oldest daughter is credited with having a knack for Delving, as well as having earned the diOnni clan's favor. In other words, she has Delved and survived, to have the Guild bards glorify her exploits, real or exaggerated as the may be. Her martial skills, of course, have been witnessed firsthand in the crucible of battle, though this can be accredited to her sire's own skill at arms and General Eloquin's teachings, as much as to any supernatural Delver's gift.”

  His eyes held a glimmer of tolerant amusement that didn't fool Verona in the least. "There are... rumors, however. Rumors which may amount to no more than the exaggerations of overly dramatic tale tellers. Nonetheless, even the most baseless of stories must sometimes be picked apart, so as to find the grain of truth that may be hidden within the endless heaps of chaff."

  Verona inclined her head. “And what particular tale shall I be seeking to uncover the veracity of, Sir Gray?”

  Her master grinned, his agile hand fluidly pointing to the book on the small end table by her chair. Verona gazed at the tome. "The Adventures of Jessica de Calenbry and Her Loyal Shieldbrother Malek de Sousel." She flipped through the tome, gazing at the honors page. "Dedicated to Jessica de Calenbry and Malek de Sousel. Written by Muse the Bard and Flourish the Scribe; Guild of Adventurers." She looked up. "An adventure's tome published by the Guild. Popular and prevalent as they are, I had always assumed these tales were simple fancy, my son himself having a collection of half a dozen similar tomes. To my mind, the Guild's true magic is their remarkable ability to publish so many volumes so cheaply, using their techniques to generate influence and revenue both. I know that no scribe worth his salt would dare say, or more to the point, publish a word against them, seeing as how the Guild could so easily put every scribe and bookbinder out of business, should they ever desire to publish anything but their own fanciful tales."

  Sir Gray nodded. "Oh, I know. Most nobles see the Guild as a group of overly trained mercenaries deluding themselves with dreamspice and tinctures of poppy, their lapdog scribes writing every word that comes out of their deluded mouths, as if they glimpsed the edges of unfathomable truths." He chuckled for a moment, his teasing eyes suddenly turning ice cold. "Do not believe it. If such were the case, do you think the Guild could possibly have been allowed its current influence without being crushed, centuries ago? And had they only been drunk on dreamspice and poppy, how did they conjure up their oft times unique artifacts? Blades of bone, sharp and hard enough to cut steel; wands that can summon up terrible storms or cause the sky to fall with blackest night. To say nothing of those ancient tales of what happened when the Guild and the king were actually at odds. Truly, dear Verona, for a pack of dreaming fools, they make remarkably effective assassins."

  "Of course you are right, my lord," a humbled Verona conceded instantly, embarrassed that she let her true fear of this man show, even for a second, lest he sense weakness and strike. Yet Sir Gray's dark gaze made it chillingly clear that he was fully and completely aware of her fear of him, and all the facades she used to cover it. His cold smile then turned to one of gentle amusement. He did not strike.

  “Oh, do not be so distressed, my dear Verona. You know I take comfort in your gentle heart. Your honest analysis. And truly, how can you be blamed for the same gentle self-delusion that plagues half our Court?" He laughed gently then. "Accounts of those early ugly disputes between Guild and Throne have been discretely… tucked away by mutual agreement for centuries. Only those who found themselves in positions similar to my own throughout the years would have cause to trouble themselves with such details. Indeed, for all we know, half the bards' tales could be grandiosity and poetic license. But still, it would… interest me to hear your analysis of the work."

  Verona solemnly bowed her head. “I would be most happy to give it my thorough attention and give you my analysis at your earliest convenience.”

  Sir Gray winked. "Oh, it need not be any chore, dear Verona. It is actually quite the entertaining read! No. Sit back and relax." With that, he poured her a fresh crystal goblet of wine. "Sit back, dear Verona. It has been awhile since we were at our mutual ease, no? There we are. Relax your shoulders, my sweet poppet. How tense you have become! The wine, it is delightful, no? I am very pleased to have you under my wing, my sweet. Very, very pleased. You have served the Crown well, our latest batch of would-be conspirators now under our thumb, thanks in no small part to your own efforts. Now is merely the regretful task of cleaning up. But for you, my dear? You need only relax and let yourself enjoy the sweet taste of success."

  His eyes twinkled merrily and Verona let herself drink deeply of the spiced wine. Soon she felt gently tipsy, just enough to allow herself to relax and give in to his gentle ministrations, knowing what was to come, and determined to allow herself to enjoy the inevitable, even to savor it, and his gentle caresses made it far sweeter than it would have been had her master been a cruder sort. She even cried out once as he climaxed inside her fiercely, and he had held her for some time, catching his ragged breath, before gently lifting himself off her, even going so far as to stroke her cheek fondly and kiss her once more before leaving her to collect herself upon the divan she lay upon.

  Mindful to collect her small purse of gold as well as inspect herself in the silver mirror, she made sure she grabbed the tome Sir Gray had assigned her to read, as fast and thoroughly as possible, she knew, all gentle assurances aside. She also made a mental note to herself to purchase additional tinctures from one of the many understanding herbalists working in the city shops below.

  Quickly she left the chambers then, wanting to be back at her quarters in the city, writing to her son as she did every few days when she was at the capital, thinking fondly of him even as she walked rapidly away from the nondescript building that had a dark and sinister reputation for being haunted, as given by tales of terrible screams that could sometimes be heard around the edifice at night when the wind was still. Screams it was best not to inquire too deeply into, lest one disappear like a ghost oneself. Superstition and silly rumor, as Verona well knew. Still, she forced herself to repress a shiver every time she fell under the shadow of that grim-faced building that Sir Gray so loved to call home.

  38

  "And what have you learned?" Verona's minder asked after they had seated themselves comfortably several days since their last meeting at a corner table in a moderately disreputable tavern on the far side of the city. Rowdy, though not overly so. A place where a hardworking sailor knew he could have good drink and sympathetic company for a fair price, without too much risk of a cut purse or a broken nose. Dark enough in the side booths that any sort of business could, and did occur; bright in the tavern's center, where a man could come in for a cool glass of ale, some good cheer, even join in a song or two before winding his way back home. It was a steady crowd with all its accompanying noise and ruckus. Very difficult for anyone to eavesdrop on anyone else, and few who met Sir Gray's chilly eyes thought him an easy mark, or a man looking for anything but privacy.

  As for Lady Vera herself, she was dressed discretely like a typical female member of the merchant class, a station where a woman might experience greater freedom and autonomy, if a bit less wealth and prestige, than they would if they were nobles like herself. Knighted dames being the one exception to the rule of the gilded cage, those females given the freedom and leniency of any lord willing to fight and die for their king.

  As Verona had neither the desire nor aptitude for knighthood, dressing as an attractive and moderately prosperous shop owner to meet her spymaster served her well enough, and if her attempts to blend in unnoticed and unhindered ever proved insufficient to the task, she too had means of self-defense for those few who would count her a mark in the well patrolled streets of the capital. For the one major disadvantage of not presenting herself
as the noble lady in the capital city, was that no common rogue would fear being hunted down and skinned alive for molesting her, as would sometimes be the case when a commoner dared to assault nobility, Lord Gray taking particular pleasure in carrying out those sentences firsthand.

  Her skills with knife and bare-handed combat, ingrained from years of martial practice at Highrock, the very college attended by the individual of interest to them at present, had served her well enough. Though nothing compared to a serious student of war, joints had been savagely broken and grievous wounds inflicted on those who would have preyed upon her, the thankfully few times she had needed them. To say nothing of magics she had had at the ready, but had fortunately not needed to make use of. Knacks she had deliberately harnessed, curious twistings of arcane energies in directions the elementalist paradigm did not fully account for in their grand theory of magic.

  Her initial hope, years ago, had been that developing such nonstandard gifts would spark enough interest so as to assure her continued emeritus status at Highrock. But in the end, her talents had fallen to other uses.

  She shook herself free of reverie, her focus snapping back to Sir Gray and the issue at hand. "I found the tales… interesting. In truth, they struck me as largely fanciful, written as they were in such dramatic prose, reminiscent of tales glorifying ancient heroes more than any real occurrence. Yet in doing some further research, I have found multiple accounts in the royal records of witnesses vouching for what had transpired at the Turnsby Estates, though the assertion that those who actually lived through it would never remember specific details once they had rested, the events fading in memory like a dream, sounds a bit too convenient to me, as if the Guild bards really had drugged everyone's wine with dreamspice."

  Her minder barked in sudden laughter, eyes twinkling with amusement. “What an interesting conjecture. Very well then, what do you think the nature of these… monstrosities that young Jessica and Malek came against?”

  Verona shrugged. "The Turnsby's main dining hall was all but destroyed. Yet humans intent on banditry or simple drug infused revelry have done far worse."

  Her master quirked a single eyebrow. “And what about that one issue which you no doubt realize is the heart of our concern, of which neither you nor I have said a word?”

  With a sudden thrill of trepidation, Verona took a deep breath and gave her honest assessment, hoping she would not pay a price for it later. "Sir. As to claims of young Jessica being able to grant, shall we say… a bond with the land to her chosen recipient; truly, I believe that the power in the gesture alone becomes a self-fulfilling ceremony. The recipient was herself the destined inheritor of the estates in question, the granter herself the daughter of the overlord of that entire region. In a sense, all she did was affirm a ceremony destined to take place at a future time between overlord and underlord. The fact that the shaken people witnessing the ceremony believed that Jessica's words gave Karine a divine right to rule that land heightened her peoples' deference to her, and so strengthened her rule. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy, so to speak. People follow Lady Karine unquestioningly, and others who see this in play could be led to believe that Karine was invested with some mystical authority, when really it is nothing more than the deference any good vassal should show a worthy master. In other words, the two girls were simply following precepts ancient civilizations had used to secure and validate their own rule, in eras long past."

  Sir Gray’s smirk was sardonic. “Comforting explanations that neatly compartmentalize all the discrepancies in such away so as to have minimal impact on your own perceptions regarding the natural order of things. You who are a trained mage, able to use your talents in ways outside the supposedly understood paradigm.” He chuckled softly. “I have no doubt that your own professors tried more than once to discredit your own explorations into the arcane arts, to claim trickery or deception in regards to your own gifts.” He gently raised his hand before an increasingly concerned Verona. “No, do not worry, my dear. I take no displeasure from your honest assessment. It is your sincere interpretation, and you have never experienced anything to encourage you to see otherwise.”

  Verona closed her eyes and took a deep breath, running her hands through her thick blond hair. “Very well, sir. What is it that you wish of me?”

  His chuckle was low and soft. "Not yet a believer, but you are curious as to why I find what seems no more than fanciful tales so engaging, no? Very well my dear Verona." His bemused tone became instantly businesslike. "You are to head for the Calenbry barony and attend the gala they shall be holding on their personal estates. It is a fete in honor of their oldest daughter, who is to be the primary focus of your attentions. Very soon young Jessica shall be attending the Royal Ladies Academy, and this may be your only chance to see her in more natural surroundings, under any sort of discrete pretext."

  Verona's eyes widened in surprise. "Finishing school? For one who was well on her way to becoming a full-fledged Squire of War?"

  Sir Gray smiled. “The latter is a fact known by very few, my dear Verona. Most only know of her as a student of Highrock. Only Crown Agents are fully cognizant of Eloquin's Squires, just as those Squires found to be worthy are made cognizant of the king's inner circle as well. Some of our best agents come from that select pool. Their mastery of the arts of murder and sabotage have served us well upon any number of occasions, for all that war with our surly neighbor has not yet been formally declared." He chuckled softly. "But our dear Jessica, like many Squires, has no head for the deception and artifice needed to master the agent's path, so she will have no idea of your role in all this. So yes, for all that she was honored with full diploma en absentee, going from renowned commander in training at Highrock to the status of extra offspring being groomed as someone's lady in waiting is quite a fall in status and prestige, no? And hardly befitting the temperament of the girl in question."

  He smiled and shook his head. “This, more than anything else, tells me there is truth to the stories. Were it mere glorified fancy, I could only see her parents humoring her or perhaps containing her delusional excesses in the comforts of their massive estates. The fact that they are going to such efforts to change public perception of her, to neuter her perceived potency, tells me they really do fear her being seen as a threat, which tells me more than anything else that perhaps her fabled power has at least a grain of truth to it. Yet never before did they move to quench her objectives or reputation, despite her previous Delvings. It is only after this last adventure that so many concerns have been raised. A story, you recall, that had mentioned mastery of the ancient art of Claimance, from which empires have been forged.”

  Verona shuddered, forcing herself to recite what she knew of those old tales, as she knew sir Gray expected. “So much power were the old kings rumored to hold over their lands, inspiring crops of such bounty as to make today’s nobles and landsmen gaze with disbelief at a harvest they would imagine could only happen once in their lives. And for our ancestors it was every year, if not twice in a year. Never had the population been that high, or we so wealthy, exporting so much of our sustenance to trading partners throughout the known world.” She sighed then. “A gift that had also led to so much death, igniting the Primacy Wars, where the magic of the land was said to be twisted and opposing armies decimated, whole cities torn asunder under storm and earthquake, until all was a scene of devastation, the population decimated, and most of those ancient kings and queens of the land as dead as their peoples, such that the last remnants of those with that ancient gift swore to never use it again, hiding their gifts and themselves among the people they had once ruled over utterly.”

  Her mentor nodded his approval. Yet one more subtle test she had passed. “Indeed. And a new order was forged out of the surviving tatters that remained, hammered together not from mystical ties to the land, but by the ancient expedient of political alliances, and favors granted and returned. A system that might lack mystical benefits, but one that has allowed
our people to recover from the brink of destruction, and our land to prosper and flourish once more, allowing us to achieve stability within our borders for centuries, save for the far less deadly squabbles between bickering lords.”

  Verona sighed. “And that poor girl might have just unsheathed a double-edged blade, risking political chaos.”

  “Unless,” Sir Gray qualified, “the girl in question can be shown to be no threat, with no personal interest in carving a domain in her own name. If she can rather be shown to be naught but a young lady striving to become a suitable match for a worthy partner, to live through him, not for herself, as all proper young ladies are taught at those academies specializing in the gentler arts."

  Verona felt a slight chill wash through her. “She will be groomed then, to be seen not as a threat but as… an asset.” She blinked as full comprehension came to her at once. “By the angels above, they are grooming her as a candidate for royal marriage!”

  Her partner's cold smile didn't touch his icy eyes. "Perhaps. Perhaps in their foolish naiveté, the Calenbrys think that merely baring their tender throat before the royal gaze, showing that they mean no threat, is enough to avert their family from being seen as 'in play.' Yet if that is what they truly believe, then they are sadly foolish, and the Calenbrys are no fools. Their sire was a brilliant tactician serving in the wars, and his wife no less perceptive a judge of character, and no stranger to the intrigues of Court. In fact, I suspect she has her fingers in far more pies than she lets on, having made use of more than one catspaw over the years, and the fact that she only comes to my attention at this late juncture further serves to emphasize both her subtlety, and skill."

  Verona was chilled to see how her master's gaze burned with intensity. An intensity normally reserved only for those poor fools who had particularly caught his interest. Or his displeasure. “No. Should their daughter truly possess that lost art, there are only two options before us. She is a piece that must be either removed from the board, even should that mean eliminating her clan entirely, or she must be bound to the Royal Family. Her blood must mingle with the royal heirs, so that he who will hold the Right of Claimance and the future holder of the throne become one and the same. There are no other options."