Power Conspiracy

by Pedro Urvi

  “No! What are you going to do to me?”

  Egil smiled. “I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He showed him the leather pouch.

  Vincent was instantly fearful. “What’s in the pouch?”

  Without giving him any explanation, Egil opened the pouch and dropped a large scorpion with a thick tail on to his leg.

  Valeria, Nilsa and Gerd were left open-mouthed. It was not the viper they had been expecting. The scorpion looked extremely poisonous.

  “Egil …” Gerd said uneasily.

  “Don’t worry, everything’s under control.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” said Valeria. “He’s a Ranger, not a murderer.”

  “Egil, think about what you’re doing,” Nilsa said. “If anything goes wrong …”

  “Everything’ll be all right,” he assured them. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

  Vincent was staring wide-eyed at the scorpion. He could not move his leg because the scorpion might attack the moment it sensed movement. The Ranger knew this, and was staying as still as he could.

  “I have the antidote here,” Egil told him, and showed him another pouch. From it he took out a glass phial containing a blue liquid. “If you open your mouth, I could give it to you, just in case.”

  Vincent stared back at him, then at the scorpion, which was moving up his leg, and opened his mouth as wide as he could. Egil emptied the contents of the phial down his throat. Then he put the phial back in his belt.

  “I’ll tell you … but take it off me …”

  “You’re sure you’re going to tell me the truth?”

  “I swear it. Take it off!”

  “All right, then.” Egil seized the scorpion with a swift movement and put it back in the pouch as if this was something he did every day.

  Vincent gasped. On his face was a look of immense relief.

  “Well?”

  “I never thought you’d have … the guts. I always took you for a bookish weakling with no strength of character.”

  “A lot of people think that. That’s their mistake. Now tell me what I want to know.”

  “Why would I have to do that now you’ve given me the antidote?” Vincent asked maliciously.

  Egil smiled in his turn. “Well … because I haven’t given you the antidote.”

  “What did you give me?”

  Nilsa and Gerd began to feel nervous. What macabre game was Egil playing with the veteran Ranger? They themselves were having a hard enough time watching. They preferred not to think what Vincent must be going through.

  “Herb of Truth Potion.”

  “No!”

  “Oh yes. A good friend told me that Sigrid, the Elite Specialist Mother at the Shelter, prepares it. I decided to investigate its composition. Can you believe it’s a secret? I couldn’t find it. It turns out that the Elder Elite Specialists and the Master Rangers keep the recipe secret. More than that, among all the Rangers there are only three people who know how to prepare it: Sigrid and Annika at the Shelter and Eyra at the Camp. I asked Eyra to teach me, and she refused. Curious, eh? I asked her why not, and the answer left me puzzled. She told me it was because it took a long time to prepare, and because it’s very powerful. According to our leaders, it’s better that only a few should be capable of making it. She’s right, you know, if you think about it. If everybody had it, the world would become a very curious place. So, I racked my brains to find out where our Master Ranger kept some potions in reserve, and one night, very carefully, I stole some phials. I didn’t like having to do it, but I knew they’d come in handy. One day I’ll learn how to prepare them myself. I’ve set myself that goal, however secret they may be keeping it.”

  Vincent shook his head. “I’ll resist it. I’m not going to tell you the truth.”

  “I’m afraid that’ll be in vain. As soon as it makes its effect felt, which will be very promptly, you won’t be able to hide the truth from me.”

  Vincent tried to struggle free again. He knew he was lost. He yelled and despaired, but it was all for nothing.

  “Come on,” Egil whispered in his ear. “Who entrusted you with the mission?”

  Vincent tried to lie, to say another name, but the potion began to take effect and forced him to give the name. He whispered it very low, so that only Egil heard it.

  “Very interesting,” he commented.

  Nilsa, Valeria and Gerd stared at him in suspense.

  He turned to them. “You see? Everything’s come out just fine. We set off at dawn. There’s still a lot to do.”

  He left them open-mouthed, without giving them the name Vincent had been forced to reveal.

  Chapter 29

  At midmorning, on a clear, warm day, Nilsa, Valeria, Gerd and Egil arrived at the little village of Belgaris. It was a community of fisher-folk who made their living from an enormous lake, beside which they had built their homes. They were still in territory controlled by the Zangrians in the middle of the Thousand Lakes.

  At the entrance to the village, they checked in case there were Zangrian troops there, but it seemed to be clear. They had seen a patrol the previous day, and another two days earlier. They had managed to avoid these without being seen, but the presence of so many patrols indicated that they were very close to the border with Erenal. They would have to be on the alert, because they would have to do a great deal of explaining, and as they were Norghanian, their explanations might not be enough. In all probability they would be taken for spies or agents of the northern kingdom and it would be hard to persuade their captors otherwise. They were all aware of what was done to spies and agents in Zangria: they had a spear put through their heart.

  Egil went in first to make sure that everything was peaceful. He rode quietly along the main street as far as the docks. The villagers stared at him, intrigued, apparently unused to foreigners. The village consisted of two rows of simple houses behind a pier and nothing else. Several women went by carrying nets, and he saw another group of them in front of their homes repairing fishing utensils and large nets which had been stretched across the middle of the street.

  At the pier several fishermen were getting ready to set out. Their boats were only large enough for two or three people, with a small sail fastened to a mast as long as the boat. Egil stopped without entering the pier and watched them at work. The men stared back at him without stopping their tasks, and he nodded respectfully to them. The men appreciated this courtesy and waved back. These three or four boats must be the last to be readied. The rest had already set off.

  Against the horizon he could see a multitude of small sails where the remaining fishermen of the village were already at work in the immense lake. The sails against the blue of the water and the sunlight which fell on them lent the scene an air of peace and tranquility. For a moment Egil thought how happy a person could be there, leading a quiet life, fishing in the placid lake, gathering timber in the woods around and raising a family of happy fisher-folk. Compared with his own life, that of those fisher-folk appeared far quieter and more pleasant.

  The last boats set out, and he followed them with his gaze. He felt a pang of envy. After working all day, they would come back with their catch at sunset. They would enjoy a quiet family meal with their loved ones, and would live a life full of small pleasures which he himself would probably never be able to enjoy.

  He heaved a deep sigh. Unfortunately, he would almost certainly not be able to enjoy what those fisher-folk had in that remote village amid thousands of lakes. His future was inexorably linked to his surname, and his life – one way or another – was always going to be in danger. He knew this and accepted it. This was his destiny, one he would fight for every day until his final moment came. He would not let his enemies put an end to him, not without doing everything in his power to defeat them.

  He wondered whether it would be possible to leave everything, to stay here with the fisher-folk, and live a sweet, peaceful life, but he shook his head. Even if he hid here, they wo
uld find him. He was a marked man, and several very powerful interests had put a price on his head. He would never manage to survive by hiding here, or anywhere else. More than that, he would attract death to those good people. They would end up dead and their village destroyed, and he would never be able to forgive himself. The only way to survive was to keep on fighting, with a clear head, as he was doing. Hiding merely meant postponing the inevitable.

  For a moment longer he allowed the feeling of peace to penetrate deep inside him and calm the unease he was feeling over what he had had to do to Belgorio and Vincent. He had kept up an image of cold calm at every moment, but he had really been suffering deep within himself over what he had been forced to do. Unfortunately, there was nothing else he could have done under the circumstances. He did not regret what he had done, but it had affected him. If he had to do it all over again, he would, because he knew that to defeat his enemies, he would have to make complicated decisions and face real moral dilemmas.

  This troubled him. The moral dilemmas could trap him between the sword and the wall, and the sword would be at his neck. He recalled the faces of Nilsa, Valeria and Gerd as they watched him doing those things, and was saddened. His friends had been unsure whether what he was doing had been right. He loved them for it, because they were there with him, to make sure he did the right thing and did not stray on to a course that would lead to the damnation of his soul. And yet with every difficult decision he would have to make, their faith in him would weaken. The day would come when they would not trust his actions anymore. This saddened him, but it was part of the path he must follow and he accepted it.

  He inhaled several times, filling his lungs with the scents of the lake and the village behind him. He thought of everything he still had ahead of him, and felt easier. These were exactly the kind of situations he liked and worked best in. He would succeed, for himself, for Dolbarar, for Lasgol and for all the Snow Panthers.

  With this certainty, he set off to the only tavern in the village. As he approached, he saw his friends outside the village, watching him. He beckoned to them.

  “Everything all right?” Gerd asked him, and he nodded.

  Nilsa was inhaling the breeze blowing down the street. “There’s a powerful smell of charcoal-grilled fish,” she said.

  “Let’s go in and have something to eat,” Egil said. He opened the door of the small tavern.

  They found themselves in a very basic hall with four tables and a counter at the far end which did not look too solid. Some elderly locals were sitting at two of the tables, enjoying some kind of strong liqueur. They said something the group did not understand.

  “Good health to all!” Egil greeted them amiably.

  One of the tables was free and they went to it. On the other table was another man, who did not look like a fisherman.

  Behind the counter the owner was washing dishes, while at the end his wife was cooking fish.

  “Sit down,” Egil said. “I’ll order us drinks and something to eat.”

  “Double serving of fish for me if possible,” Gerd said.

  Nilsa eyed him in disbelief. “Glutton!” she scolded him.

  “Eh? It smells delicious!”

  Valeria came to his help. “He’s right. I’m getting hungry myself, even though I hate fish.”

  “Yeah,” Egil explained, “we prepare our fish salted and smoked. Here they do it on a bed of coals with a seasoning of wine vinegar and local spices.”

  Valeria made a circle with her finger. “Right then, fish for everyone.”

  Egil smiled. “Done,” he said. He went to the counter and greeted the owner.

  “Good day to you, sir.”

  “May it be good for all, and may the lake bless us with plenty of fish.”

  “May that be so,” Egil replied.

  “Passing through?” the tavern-keeper asked. He was looking at the group sitting at the table, who were now chatting animatedly.

  Egil had the sense that it was a casual question, not an inquisitive one, so he relaxed. “Yes. We got lost, and we saw the village. We came here for some food.”

  “Well, you were lucky to find the village. There aren’t many round here.”

  “Today luck has smiled on us, and judging by the smell of that fish, I think it’s going to do so twice.”

  The tavern-keeper nodded. “My wife’s an excellent cook. She doesn’t let me anywhere near the coals.” He shrugged. “She says I ruin them just by looking.”

  Egil smiled. “Could we have four beers and five servings of fish?”

  “I don’t have any beer. It doesn’t keep well, and not many traders come this way.”

  “I see. So, what can we drink?”

  “White wine from Erenal, very good, or Zangrian firewater.”

  “Firewater!” cried one of the old fishermen. He raised his glass.

  “You’ve already had enough for today!” the tavern-keeper shouted back.

  “Not true!”

  “I want another firewater,” said the other old local.

  “Not a drop more, for either of you!”

  Egil watched them in amusement. In fact, they did not look very well. It seemed that they had spent a long time on the wrong road – the road of alcohol – and their bodies showed it. Their faces were wasted, and their eyes had a yellow tinge.

  “Wine or firewater?” the owner asked Egil.

  “White wine, please.”

  “Right away. I’ll go and tell the wife to get your food ready and I’ll bring the wine over.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “And to you. It’s nice to see new faces in the village every once in a while. Here it’s always the same people, and since there aren’t many of us, the same old boring stories get told over and over again.”

  “If the food is as good as it smells,” Egil promised. “we’ll leave you a new story to tell after we’ve gone.”

  The owner beamed at him. “That’s a deal!”

  Egil went back to the table with a smile. How easy it was to make people happy sometimes. And on the other hand, how hard it was to make everybody happy. Some would be satisfied with a mere story, others would need to conquer whole realms. He sighed. That was what men were like: some happy with so little, others never happy and always in search of power and glory.

  “Did you see your contact at the pier?” Nilsa asked him.

  “No, only some fishermen.”

  “D’you think something’s happened to him?”

  “Not necessarily. He might not have arrived yet, or he might be watching the village waiting for us to appear, and hasn’t revealed himself yet.”

  Nilsa looked rueful. “You’re right. I rushed to assume the worst.”

  Gerd laughed. “How unusual to see you rushing to do anything,” he said dryly, and Valeria and Egil laughed.

  She spread her hands apologetically. “You know me … I can never stay still, body or mind.”

  “We’ll wait to see if he comes,” Egil said. “I think he’ll be cautious. He’ll be keeping an eye on us.”

  Gerd raised one eyebrow. “And what happens if he doesn’t appear?”

  “In that case we’ll have an added difficulty. A major one.”

  “Won’t we be able to find the cure for Dolbarar?” Nilsa asked, sounding worried.

  Egil considered this, frowning. “We’d have to deal with a pretty complex situation. I still think we’d make it, but we might end up in the royal dungeons of Erenal. Or hanged as spies.”

  “Wow …” said Valeria. She grimaced.

  “On the other hand, I don’t know of any situation the four of us can’t face together. We can count on incomparable courage, intelligence and skill.”

  “That’s the way to talk!” said Nilsa.

  “Any situation?” Gerd remarked, with his head to one side, apparently not fully convinced.

  “Almost none,” Egil corrected himself with a smile.

  “Oh, okay then.”

  “I belie
ve we can deal with anything as long as we stay together,” Nilsa said optimistically.

  The tavern owner came with the white wine. “From Erenal. A good harvest,” he said, and went to fetch the food.

  The four drank to the successful finding of the cure for Dolbarar.

  “Very good,” said Valeria, and poured herself another glass.

  “Yes, it’s good,” Nilsa said. She finished hers and handed her glass to Valeria to be refilled.

  “A bit tart for my taste,” said Gerd, “I prefer beer.”

  “I like to enjoy a good wine,” Egil admitted. He had only taken a sip, and was savoring it.

  The fish was a success. It was as good as it smelled, or even better. They enjoyed it enormously, particularly Gerd, who gulped down his two servings in the blink of an eye. The owner came to their table to ask if everything was to their liking, and Gerd congratulated the cook. Egil, as he had promised, told a story about a Zangrian trader and his son, who found a treasure in an island in the south. The tavern owner listened to the story spellbound. In fact, there was a message to the story. The trader found a treasure which he had to sell in the end to save the treasure he already had and did not appreciate: his own son. The tavern owner was delighted with it, and invited them to another round of wine, which they were all delighted to accept.

  As the afternoon went by, a few villagers began to arrive for a drink, after which they went on with their work. On the other hand, there was still no sign of the contact they were waiting for. Egil went down to the pier several times to show himself in case the agent was watching. Valeria and Nilsa too took a walk around the village as far as the pier to stretch their legs and relax beside the peaceful lake. Gerd took care of looking after the horses.

  At nightfall they went back to the tavern. Gerd, who was already there, was taking a nap at the table he was sitting at. Nilsa woke him up with a couple of kicks to the tips of his boots.

  “Whassat? Ah! I … I was … just occupying the table so nobody would take it.”

  Valeria smiled. “Nice bit of work.”

  “What would we do without you?” Nilsa said teasingly.

  They all sat down at the table and chatted while they waited. Night began to fall, and they began to lose hope.