The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

  Greystone acknowledged him with a nod and said, “Have your people step away. I’ll loosen the remaining stones for you.”

  The big man smiled, then turned and bellowed out to the others, “Make way! The wizard’s gonna loosen the pile!”

  Scattered cheers went up, and men scrambled from the stones. A few horses were led further back, drawing their flatbed wagons with them. Mothers scolded at children running about. In a few moments, the site stood vacated, the villagers surrounding it in a rough circle while eyeing the wizard expectantly.

  Greystone chuckled, self-deprecatingly. He said, “Oldstone was always the one for theatrics, I fear.”

  The big villager tilted his head, trying to understand what the wizard meant by the comment.

  Greystone said, “Never mind. Yes, well, here we go.”

  He gave a flourish with his hand and the large stones pulled up from the foundation, floated gracefully through the air, and landed neatly on the carts one by one. A cheer went up from the crowd. The children ran toward him squealing with delight and spooking his horse.

  Greystone patted the animal gently on the side of her neck, and held the reins tighter.

  The big man raised his hands for quiet, and soon the crowd settled down. He cleared his throat and said, “On behalf of everyone in the village of Althan, I want to thankee, Wizard, for saving us days of work.”

  Somebody yelled out, “Aye! Three cheers for th’ wizard!”

  After the cheers and more applause, Greystone smiled and nodded, ready to leave.

  One of the little boys from the village caught his eye and said, “Won’t you make a speech, Wizard?”

  Instantly the crowd quieted. Greystone flushed slightly as he met the eyes of several people.

  “Oh. Yes, well of course. Uh, may Althan forever be blessed by the Creator!”

  Everyone beamed in gratitude. Greystone felt truly ready to leave by now, but it seemed they expected more. He looked at the stones loaded on the carts, and raised his eyebrows as an idea struck.

  “And may every house, every structure these stones are reused in, be especially blessed!”

  Another cheer erupted from the crowd. Greystone took the opportunity to turn his horse around and rejoin the royal retinue. Trant and Margwen smiled their thanks as he approached. He grinned back at them, then drew up near the queen again as the party resumed its journey down the road.

  The queen said, “A very nice gesture, Greystone! I’m sure you saved them days of work.”

  “Yes, yes. Happy to help, Your Majesty. Your subjects are good people.”

  “Indeed! However, I must confess I have no idea what they want with those old stones. I’m afraid I don’t spend much time in the villages. Their ways remain something of a mystery to me.”

  “Oh, that’s easy to explain Your Majesty. Villagers waste nothing. If an old building such as that one falls down, the stones are carted away to be used elsewhere.”

  “I see. It all sounds so efficient. I do believe Coral has the best peasants of all the kingdoms. I know I’m biased, but . . .”

  Greystone tuned her out as he examined a new thought entering his mind. He looked at it from different angles, thoroughly considering the idea.

  Deedles woke up, and stretched luxuriously from her perch on his saddle. She connected with Greystone’s mind effortlessly, and examined the idea along with him.

  She purred in approval, and her thoughts entered his mind with a single word: “Reuse!”

  -+-

  Duke Fellows’s summer manor seemed incredibly sumptuous to Trant. At least, that was what Greystone surmised Trant felt while watching him from a distance. The prince could not stop swiveling his head, drinking in all the sights as they neared their destination.

  The party arrived just before sunset, in time to admire acres and acres of gardens surrounding the manor. Beautifully manicured foliage grew in abundance, kept impeccable no doubt by some gardener or two who were particularly adept at nature magic, Greystone thought. And no doubt well paid for their service.

  The manor itself would serve royalty well in any large city. As they neared, it emerged from behind a final line of trees, gleaming in polished white stone three stories tall, balconies and windows and columns all below a dark tile roof. The queen shifted her ongoing monologue as they rode closer to the front gates, explaining the manor featured 65 rooms along with 22 bathrooms, an indoor pool and several spacious courtyards.

  Greystone nodded, at last paying closer attention to her words. Curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “And this is one of several homes he owns? How can one man afford so many opulent estates?”

  The queen smiled graciously and said, “My family is very well to do, Wizard Greystone. My older brother inherited Donamar, but proceeds from the family’s shipping fleet allow for many such luxuries.”

  Greystone nodded in sudden understanding. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and said, “Donamar. ‘Gift of the sea’ in the Old Tongue. Quite appropriate.”

  “You are so wise, Wizard. It has been such a joy speaking with you today. I must confess I rarely have the opportunity to spend much time in conversation with someone of your intellect.”

  “The pleasure, Your Majesty, has been all mine.”

  And given the chance, I’d lie again. One must remain diplomatic, above all else.

  The queen flushed with the compliment, and began a brief history of the Fellows family, dating back to their founding patriarch and his first boat, Seafellow. Her story had to be cut short, though. Soon they arrived at the front gates and servants darted out to help everyone dismount and take away the horses.

  All were assigned to their rooms, and more servants rushed out to take luggage and show the newcomers where they were to sleep. Greystone found himself in a prestigious location next door to Trant. The room had marble tiles, expensive wood paneling, and a vaulted ceiling. Significantly, it included a private bath. That alone indicated the honor bestowed upon the wizard by his hosts.

  A butler knocked on the door and informed him dinner would be served in the main hall in half an hour. He said, “Do you require assistance with your attire, milord?”

  “No, thank you. I usually stay in these robes.”

  “Very good. Please pull the bell rope if anything is needed.”

  The butler had the wherewithal not to express surprise at Greystone’s comment. Almost everybody changed clothes before attending a royal dinner.

  He must be highly paid, as well.

  Greystone had no doubt Trant would be attired appropriately. The prince would request a manservant, as the wizard had trained him to do. The host would have preselected one for him, as Trant would be expected to request the assistance.

  The manservant would ensure the prince attended dinner properly attired. If there were other pertinent bits of information Trant needed to know, such as who he would be seated next to, topics to bring up or avoid during the meal, what to expect afterward, or a dozen other items, the butler and the manservant would make sure Trant knew about them ahead of time.

  The butler would also try and discern the prince’s preferences, inquiring as to his favorite wine, if he preferred sleeping late in the mornings, and other things that could be tailored to his visit. Such was the level of quality one could afford with servants in a manor as grand as Donamar, Greystone thought.

  He looked around for Deedles, and realized he’d lost track of her after dismounting. He put out a quick mental check for her whereabouts. Deedles spoke in thoughts more so than words, and sent him a combination of images and emotions relaying the fact she intended to room in Princess Margwen’s quarters, on the opposite side of Donamar.

  Before long the butler knocked on his door again, and Greystone joined other guests heading down the corridor and stairs and into the manor’s great hall.

  A long table filled with every kind of food occupied the center of the room. Servants darted from the kitchens to the table, stocking it with last minute
items, carrying pitchers of water and wine.

  King Keel and Queen Kita were seated at the head of the table. To the king’s right sat Margwen. Most importantly, as far as Greystone was concerned, Trant sat next to her. This signified to all present that Keel and Kita accepted Trant’s claim to the throne of Emerald. Essentially, by letting him eat at the head of the table with them, they were publicly recognizing him as their equal.

  Greystone smiled and sighed, somewhat in relief. After all these years, ever since saving the young prince from Endrick’s sellswords, seeing him properly acknowledged as royalty provided a profound feeling of satisfaction.

  When everyone settled in their assigned seats, and after the king asked the Creator to bless the food, the meal began in earnest. A whole roasted pig occupied the center of the table, but Coral was known for its seafood. Lobster bisque and crab legs along with several varieties of fish were served in abundance.

  After dessert, in which guests could choose from five different types of cake representing the five noble families present, the king tapped the table with a knife for attention and stood up.

  All talking ceased, and all eyes fixed on Keel.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you all for attending tonight at my request. And thanks be to Bently for the unselfish offer of letting us meet here in Donamar, far from the prying eyes of court.”

  Bently, Duke of Fellows and the queen’s oldest brother, smiled broadly at Keel’s compliment. Greystone decided the corpulent Bently enjoyed fine food perhaps a little too much. Like his sister, his hair had turned gray. Unlike her, though, the older Bently’s hair had gone completely white. With his snow-white hair and beard he reminded the wizard of Old Man Winter from children’s story books.

  “And now,” the king continued, “to the question at hand. You are all aware of Trant’s claim. I have accepted his testimony, and agree that he is the sole heir of Tran and Karla. I came to this conclusion some time ago based in no small part on Wizard Greystone’s witness.”

  All eyes turned to the wizard. Greystone nodded, as if to emphasize the truth of these statements.

  The king continued. “And now we are ready to express our support in a more public way.”

  Keel paused at this point, and caught the eye of each person seated at the table, one by one, before continuing. Greystone felt everybody in the room holding their breath.

  “Trant has requested the hand of our daughter Margwen in marriage. We have granted the request.”

  The room exploded in noise as breaths were either let out or sucked in. Several women present squealed in delight, and flashed smiles at the couple. The queen wiped a tear from her eye and smiled, but Greystone noticed a tinge of doubt remained hiding underneath her expression.

  Several of the noblemen began murmuring with one another. Bently caught the king’s eye and decided to voice the families’ collective concerns.

  “Yes, Bently?”

  “Your Majesties are doubtless aware of the, ah, diplomatic consequences of this betrothal.”

  One of the other patriarchs, a stern-faced man with dark brown hair seated further down the table, piped up. “This could mean war!”

  Keel nodded at the statement, and ignored its underlying accusatory tone. He stared at the man and said, “Yes, Baylock. We are aware that Endrick is not going to like it. However, I have personally seen the state of Endrick’s army, or what was left of it after the Battle of Greystone Village. Endrick does not have enough soldiers left to mount a serious attack against Coral.”

  Most of the nobles nodded in agreement. The stories about the battle following the return of the king with his daughter and the long missing prince were well known throughout the kingdom. Greystone decided their fears of war were stifled, at least temporarily.

  Keel took the respite from their concerns to drop another surprise announcement.

  He said, “We have decided to attack him. Close your mouth Bently. You too, Baylock. Kita and I have spoken at length with Wizard Greystone. What Endrick did so many years ago was bad enough, but how he has run Emerald into the ground and the way he treats his people is simply deplorable. There is no other way to say it.

  “Kings and queens are given authority by the Creator to lead their people. As such, we hold higher positions of responsibility, and we will have to answer for all our decisions on the Day of Judgment, just as others will. However, since our decisions affect so many people, we are held to a higher accounting by the Creator.

  “I believe, and Kita agrees with me, that we have an obligation to help ensure Endrick meets the Creator as soon as possible.”

  He paused expectantly and waited for anyone to object. No one, Greystone noted, was willing to publicly express disapproval of the king’s statement, even in an intimate gathering like this where most of the people present were related to one another by blood or marriage.

  A few men and women stared at the table, or down into their laps, refusing to make eye contact. Others locked eyes with Keel and Kita, Trant and Margwen, and nodded silently in support.

  Bently broke the silence. He said, “Well, look at the bright side. If we can wrest the throne from Endrick, we’ll have a Coralian queen in two of the great lands.”

  Baylock said, “Aye, but how much Coralian blood will it take to secure that second throne?”

  “It’s not an unreasonable question, Baylock,” Keel said. “Frankly, it was my chief concern about Prince Trant marrying our daughter. However, most of the wizards will be on our side in this conflict.”

  Everybody turned to look at Greystone. He smiled back at them.

  Keel said, “They also have a battlemaiden, a powerful one, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the days of Theena.”

  Several eyebrows raised, and many looked back to Greystone for confirmation. They had heard snippets of accounts concerning a battlemaiden participating in the battle, but for many this was the first hint of her raw power. Greystone nodded again, reassuring everybody that the king spoke true.

  “How about it, Greystone? What are the odds we can attack Emerald and successfully reclaim the throne for my future son-in-law?”

  “The odds are good, Your Majesty, especially since I recently realized that Darkstone himself has left us with the means of his demise.”

  Several moments passed while Greystone smiled enigmatically. The noblemen and ladies looked at one another and the wizard with questioning eyes, but he remained silent.

  At last Keel said, “Well? What is it?”

  “I will reveal more in due course, Your Majesty. In the meantime, as we prepare for war, I will need to borrow as many blacksmiths as you can spare from your kingdom.”

  “Blacksmiths?”

  “As many as possible. I have recently learned a valuable lesson from your own people about reusing broken things.”

  Chapter 4

  Stin opened his eyes. His pupils dilated in the glare of a lantern swinging gently near his face.

  “He lives.”

  Stin focused on the face behind the light with shoulder-length blond hair and a matching beard. Hope blossomed in his breast like a flower.

  “Quarl? Go’be with you, man.”

  The face smiled back at him, but a touch of sadness crossed into its voice.

  “I’m Quent. I understand my brother Quarl serves aboard Dream of the Isles. I did not know that before we tried to board her. Alas, I fear I haven’t seen my twin in a number of years.”

  Stin squinted at the face, slowly soaking in what Quent said. He said, “Are you a healer, too?”

  Quent nodded and said, “Welcome aboard Wavecrest. I fear you are our only surviving acquisition from the ill-fated meeting between our two ships.”

  Inwardly, Stin felt pleased at the news. He took care not to show it, though. He sat up slowly, and carefully swung his legs out over the bed. He pointed at his belly and said, “Your brother cured my seasickness.”

  Quent said, “Mm. I wondered what that was about.�
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  “I think it was also your brother who came up with the idea of tossing lanterns onto your deck.”

  Quent nodded again and said, “That sounds like something he would dream up. A foolhardy and outrageous stunt.”

  “And yet, it seems to have worked.”

  “Mm. And that sounds like my brother as well. Always had luck on his side. Harebrained plots invariably seem to work out in his favor, for some reason.”

  Stin wiggled his toes. He said, “Everything seems to be working. How long have I been out?”

  “A day. Dream of the Isles is long gone.”

  Stin felt a pang of regret. He thought about Kirt, Bellasondra, and Bartimo. He pushed down his feelings and kept his face frozen.

  “I see. So, what is to become of me?”

  “The captain will decide. I see he graces us with his presence as we speak.”

  A tall man with thick, curly black hair flowing down to his shoulders stepped into the room. Tiny red ribbons were tied neatly in his beard. He wore a red silken jacket, a white tunic and trousers. A silver chain around his neck had an ornamental key hanging from it.

  He smiled broadly at Stin, a hint of gold flashing from his top teeth.

  “I see our guest is awake. I am Captain Cessic. And who might I be addressing?”

  “I’m Steck.”

  “And where do you hail from, Steck?”

  “Ruby City.”

  Cessic beamed. He said, “My home town! Why were you aboard Dream of the Isles?”

  “I was making my way to Refugio to seek out new trade, in hopes of finding something I could sell for a profit back home.”

  “So you must have much gold.”

  “Silver. But what modest means I had is onboard Dream of the Isles.”

  The captain glanced at Quent, who nodded and said, “Not a copper on him. I checked.”

  Cessic turned back to Stin and said, “Forgive us our skepticism. Many of our guests try to hide items of value, as you might imagine.”