“So,” said Fuzz, as he concluded his telling of the story, “even though Demonica and Spitemorta escaped with the Staff, we can thank the Fates the Heart was destroyed...”
“No!” squeaked Taflu as he flew into the room to flutter in circles beneath the ceiling before flitting to land like a moth on Rose's knee. “No! Sorry Fuzz. That's not right.” He paused to catch his breath. “The Heart was not destroyed, Fuzz.”
“How do you know?” said Fuzz, looking mortified.
“Just when I got back, Demonica and Spitemorta showed up at our den to get the mounts which they left there, and Demonica had it on her,” he gritted, pausing for another half dozen pants, “and she ordered Spitemorta to blast the Heart with the Staff to make sure it was the real thing. She said only the real thing could take it, and by the size of the hole they blasted in the ground, I can sure see why. Anyway, they plan on taking over the entire world with it. They said that, Fuzz. I heard 'em. That's what I came to tell you. Maybe Razzmorten and Mary can still do something.” He looked about the room with earnest red eyes, still panting.
With a glance at Mary, Fuzz sank into a velveteen cushion as if he'd had his air let out of him. “I don't see how even Razzmorten and Mary together could possibly match Demonica and Spitemorta with both Staff and Heart.”
Mary shared a stunned look with Razzmorten. “We just might be cooked,” she said.
***
“At last. I'm home,” said Spitemorta, as she glared covertly across at Demonica. “And I could've been here days earlier if you hadn't insisted we come on these stupid unicorns,” she thought as she clenched her teeth and slid off Nightshade's back. She shoved her reins at her grandmother, adjusted her black leather gloves and stepped smartly up the stone walk to her castle in spite of her exhaustion, riding crop under her arm. She wanted to see her son.
Demonica was keenly aware of Spitemorta's rush into the castle, though she refused to look in her direction. “Hunh,” she said, squeezing the twinge of a smile from her face. “Maybe the little tart does have some sort of motherly feeling for her little abominable one after all,” she thought. “Might be right useful to remember sometime, mightn't it?” She threw her leg over Gwenole's rump and handed both sets of reins to the groom who appeared to stable the unicorns. She hesitated to give a thoughtful stare after Spitemorta before following her inside. Once inside, she turned and went straight up the stairs to her apartment in the tower. She cared nothing for Spitemorta's pathetic reunion with her brat and her decidedly handsome, but dull husband. She wanted nothing more presently than a good long soak in a hot bath, and the privacy would give her a chance to consider her next move.
***
“Darling,” said James, pecking her on the cheek as if that were some kind of enthusiastic welcome. “You've returned at last.” His tone deliberately showed displeasure at his being neglected.
“I'm in no mood for your childish tone, James,” said Spitemorta with a dangerous glint in her eye. “If you must blame someone, blame Grandmother. Had it been up to me, I'd 'ave been back weeks ago. Now, where's my son?”
“The last I knew, dearest, he was my son, too.”
“Why yes, you did have a rather inept involvement with his conception, didn't you...”
“Momma! Momma! You're here!” whooped her little boy, as he burst into the room and flung himself into her arms.
“Abaddon!” she cried, scooping him up.
After a moment, James clamped shut his mouth and charged after her as she swept away to Abaddon's nursery. He caught up to her on the stairwell. “What has gotten into you?” he snarled.
“I'll thank you to not use that tone in front of Abaddon,” she said between her teeth and continued on up the stairs.
James followed, determined not to let go of it until she explained herself.
“Is it too much to ask, she thought, to be allowed a private moment with my son after my long absence before being forced to deal with his slow wit?” She took in an exasperated deep breath at the door of the nursery and wheeled round to face him after closing Abaddon into his room.
“James,” she said, putting on a coquettish pout. “I'm so sorry. You can't imagine what I've just been through, these past few weeks.” She slipped down the shoulder of her dress far enough to show an angry sore. “Including,” she spat with a sudden furious look, “being shot with an arrow by your beloved Rose.”
James went wide eyed. “Why would she do that?”
“Well maybe little miss wonderful isn't quite the angelic bit of fluff you imagine her to be, James.”
“What are you talking about, Spitemorta? You know very well that Rose and I have been over for a very long time. Why must you persist in this vindictive jealousy? She means nothing to me and she should mean even less to you.”
“Truly, James?” she asked sweetly.
“Yes, truly.”
“So just why is it, sweetheart, that you call out her name in your sleep and not mine?”
“You're making that up.”
“Am I?” she scoffed as she stepped behind Abaddon's door and slammed it in his face, sealing it with some signs in the air. She smiled and turned to face Abaddon who was studying her with keen interest.
***
Demonica slid into her fragrant hot bath with a contented sigh. She had plans to lay. She had the Heart of the Staff, after all. “So, could I actually allow Spitemorta to have it?” she thought. “She's the most irascibly selfish and short-sighted thing I've ever seen. Maybe it will work better to let her think that I'll turn over the Heart to her once she's sufficiently trained to wield it. I'm certain of it. The girl is treacherous. The moment she thinks she can use the Heart without my help she'll turn on me. That's what I'd do in her place.” She pursed her lips. She would have to play this very carefully. She still needed Spitemorta to set things into motion. “She's the queen of two countries and she has the political power which I need. There's nothing for it but to keep her believing she'll eventually be given the Heart while carefully getting her to do what I need. Once I have her where I need her, I'll eliminate the vicious kiez and have the Staff at the same time. For the time being, though, I'll need to figure out how to make life exceedingly difficult for Razzmorten and his precious Niarg, and I'll also have to decide on the best way to rid the world of Elfkind.” She closed her eyes and cleared her mind so she could truly enjoy her bath for a few moments.
At last she stepped out, toweled off and slipped into her silk gown. She decided to sleep on it. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin conquering the world.
***
“Let me get this straight, Grandmother,” said Spitemorta, eyeing her coolly as she rose from her gilded and jeweled throne to pace about on the dais. “You want me to hire vagrants to burn all the kingdom's sukere crops? Are you insane? Have you any idea how much those crops will bring into the treasury?”
“Must you always be so short-sighted?” said Demonica, with a dismissive wave. “We're suggesting a minor loss now for a huge gain later. Goll and Loxmere together haven't even a tenth of Niarg's wealth. You could have it all and more, but not if you sit on your throne waiting for it all to fall into your lap because you happen to have the Great Staff in your hand, which I might add, you've not mastered, let alone the Heart.”
Spitemorta made a face and plopped onto her throne. “All right. Suppose I agree to this lunatic scheme and hire these dregs to sneak onto each of the kingdom's sukere plantations and set them alight. Then I point my finger and scream, 'Dragons! A Niargian plot!' and then the bums get good and drunk and start spilling my beans all over Goll?”
“Oh, but that's the beauty of hiring such low lives in the first place. They won't be missed when you hire a second set of such losers to kill them. It's foolproof.”
“Yea?” said Spitemorta. “If the second set of fools don't botch their job.”
“Good grief. Kill them yourself. Have them come in here for their pay and toast 'em with the Staff. Don't you h
ave a whisk broom and dustpan?”
“As long as I'm not the one who sweeps them up. Very good Grandmother, your idea might not be half bad. The citizens will certainly hate Niarg and the dragons for the loss of the crop. It will be a great hardship for them.”
“Well, you need something like starvation this winter to make them want to go get King Hebraun, dear. After all, without the money from those crops how many are likely to make it?”
“Not many. At least not many without the gracious help of the crown.”
“There you go.”
“Yea? But they're not likely to thank me for making them fight a war to get that help.”
Demonica shrugged. “Do you want admiration or do you want power?”
Spitemorta smiled.
“That's what I thought,” said Demonica. “Besides, most of your citizens will be so outraged by the dastardly burning that they'll demand retaliation, even if they are none too keen on being drafted into doing the retaliating themselves. Our biggest problem may be your charming spouse.”
“He's not a factor at all.”
“You're quite certain of that?”
“Quite,” said Spitemorta with a nod.
“Then,” said Demonica, with a brilliant smile, “I'll leave it in your capable hands.”
“Ah,” said Spitemorta. “And what will you be doing?”
“Why being your son's nanny, of course.”
“Of course.”
Spitemorta drummed her fingernails on the arm of her throne after Demonica left. “She's too clever,” she thought. “She's getting her ducks in a row, and if this plot comes down around anyone's ears, it won't be hers. Her eyes narrowed. Very well then, I'll just have to make certain it doesn't fail.”
She strode to the entrance of the throne room and called in one of the guards she had dismissed when Demonica came. He trailed behind her warily and waited in uncomfortable attention while she seated herself. She enjoyed his fear. She was starting to be regarded around the palace as dangerous. It made them all anxious to do her bidding without mistakes or delays.
“I have an errand for you...Morgi, isn't it?”
The guard went wide eyed. She was playing a game of some sort and it was scaring him. She had known his name since she was a little girl, and when she played games, people paid dearly. He wasn't about to displease her. “Right you are, your Majesty,” he said with a deep bow.
“I want you to go into the streets, out and about, and find me a dozen vagrants,” she said, drumming her nails on the arm of her chair. “Make certain they're the lowest possible. Then bring them here. Quietly. No one must know. Understood?”
“Absolutely,” he said, bowing low again. “It shall be exactly as you say, your Majesty.”
“Good,” she said, “then go.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” he said, turning smartly away.
“Sad,” she mused, tapping her chin as she watched him scurry out. “I always found Morgi to be the least objectionable guard my idiot parents ever had, but I see no way around eliminating him, too. Too risky if I don't. Oh well. A queen must do what a queen must do.”
***
Demonica put little Abaddon down for his nap and tiptoed out to the parlour across from his room, leaving the door ajar so she would hear him if he awoke. She brought along the pitcher and basin from his night stand. She put the basin on the tea table, filled it and sat down to scry with the water. “Who is the Elves' most dreaded enemy?” she murmured. After a good long while, images appeared on the water's surface. Trolls battled Elves who used some giant predatory bird to defeat them by killing their leader. She smiled. “Yes. The trolls of the Eastern Continent. They like nothing better than to eat tender Elf flesh. It looks as though the Elves who stayed on the Eastern Continent found a way to deal with them, but the Jutland Elves fled to the Jut of Niarg instead. Splendid. The Jutland Elves don't know that any Elves survived on the Eastern Continent. This could work. The trolls just might enjoy hunting a prey that can't fight back.”
She poured the water back into the pitcher and took it back to Abaddon's room. He was still sound asleep. Good. A few signs in the air and his door was sealed. He would stay put until she returned. She headed for the throne room. She must get Spitemorta ready to sail at once to the Eastern Continent. The days of the Jutland Elves were numbered.
Chapter 80
“I don't suppose those hags said anything useful about their plans,” said Fuzz as he looked at Taflu, “like where they were going or how they planned to use the Heart and Staff to take over the world?”
Taflu sat quietly for a moment, then shook his head. “No. Nothing, Fuzz,” he said. “I'm truly sorry. They just talked about taking over the world. Well, they did talk about returning to Goll.”
“It would certainly be nice if we had a few Cia spies ourselves, right now,” said Razzmorten, stroking his beard.
“Would it be possible to actually hire some?” said Rose.
“Not at all,” said Razzmorten. “That's one of the reasons they sealed themselves away from the rest of the world when they took their ethereal forms. They realized that others would try to exploit them for purposes such as spying.”
“You could scry them, Grandfather,” said Lukus. “You know where they are so it should be easy.”
“I could scry them, of course,” said Razzmorten, but I'd only see and not hear them. Besides, since they're both sorceresses, they'd very likely feel my magic and know I was spying on them, and there are ways of making things perilous for a person who is scrying you. I don't believe I'm up to a magical encounter with either one of them just yet.”
“I guess if they can do that, you wouldn't be, Grandfather. Mary was saying no one alive is, but could there be a way of combining power with a number of other wizards against them?”
Razzmorten raised his eyebrows and shared a look with Mary who almost nodded.
“You may have hit upon a possibility, Lukus,” he said. “But it would be awfully dangerous. However at the moment, it's the only possibility we have. You of course, will have to finish your own training immediately. And rather than sail straight back to Niarg, I think we need to stop off and see the Elves.” He looked at Lukus. “You were planning on that anyway, weren't you?”
Lukus grinned at the thought of Soraya about to bear their son. “If I don't,” he said with a laugh, “Soraya will probably send her brothers after me.”
“Lukus!” said Rose.
“Oh go on, Rose. You know how much I want to see her. I hope I get there before the baby is born. I want be with her when it happens.”
“Your moral support will mean a lot, Lukus.”
“Yea, if the midwife doesn't think I'm in her way and run me out.”
“I can't imagine that you won't be,” said Rose. “It's just what ever the poor woman manages to tolerate.” She grabbed him for a quick one armed hug.
“Thanks, Rose. I needed that.” He turned to Razzmorten. “So when do we sail?”
“How would first thing in the morning suit you?”
“Might as well get it over with,” he said, thinking of the slop bucket between his knees, last time.
Razzmorten turned to Rose who nodded, though she looked oddly less enthused about the voyage than Lukus.
“I'd be obliged to go with you, Wizard Razzmorten, if you don't mind,” said Yann-Ber.
“Even though my attempts to release you from Demonica's curse have all failed?”
“My good wizard, I would like to most emphatically. If I'm doomed to live out this horror the kiez has cast upon me, at least I'll spend the last of my days fighting alongside my dear wife's enemies. Besides, you said yourself that your weakened condition gave you little hope of helping me. Perhaps when you are stronger, you'd consent to try one more time, aye?”
“Absolutely. I'll gladly try often,” said Razzmorten. “And for that matter, the Elves have many strong healing magicks. Who knows what might be done?”
Yann-Ber bowed. Raz
zmorten was impressed with the man and his bravery.
“I would go with you too, if I may,” said Fuzz, causing Rose to go wide eyed with a look of joyous surprise.
Razzmorten rose from his cushion and studied everyone. “You're all welcome to come on this voyage, but you should realize that I don't know what peril awaits us or where we might end up next. Now, are the diatrymas still here?”
“They've been staying up on top until they saw that you were going to be all right,” said Mary.
“I'd like to have a word with them before we leave,” said Razzmorten. “However I'm still quite spent from my ordeal. Could I ride up on someone?”
“I need some air,” said Spark. “I'll take you.”
Mary and Pebbles slipped into the nursery with Lipperella to check on the dragonets and get their feed prepared for their next ravenous awakening, while Lukus, Tors, Hubba Hubba and Taflu went with Razzmorten and Spark in search of the diatrymas to fill them in on the latest bit of news, leaving Fuzz and Rose alone in the parlour.
Rose turned to Fuzz the minute everyone had filed out. “Fuzz, are you certain you want to do this? I know how much you love the forest, and I know how much you love that old den of yours...”
“I do indeed love that den, Rose,” said Fuzz, putting a shushing finger on her lips, “but I've come to realize that I love you very much more. So if I don't go with you, how can I possibly ask your father for permission to marry you?”
Rose's jaw dropped. “You want to marry me?”
“Well certainly. Of course, that is if you'll have me. So, will you marry me Rose? That is, if your father approves and all. He might not, don't you know, with me not being a prince or anything like that. In fact, I'm not much of anything but a has-been captain, I mean I'm a bear with no hair, who isn't even really fuzzy am I...?”
“Stop that right now, Fuzz,” said Rose with a serious look on her face. “Don't you dare start running down the only man I've ever been in love with and whom I'll most certainly be marrying.”
“Oh my,” said Fuzz, as a happy grin spread across his face. “You will? I mean with Hebraun's consent , of course.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 86
