by Jaxon Reed
The wizard strode forward confidently, though, and Endrick hurried to keep up. They turned into an alley between two dilapidated buildings.
Quartzstone brought him to a decrepit set of wooden steps leading down to a basement entrance. Endrick felt his heart beating loud in his throat, but cautiously followed him down old creaky steps. At the bottom, in near total darkness, the wizard pushed open a door and walked in the building. Endrick could barely make out the pale hand motioning for him to follow.
Once inside, the wizard closed the door and Endrick found himself in total darkness, with not a single spark of light anywhere to be seen. He could feel the presence of others nearby, in the darkness. He could hear them breathe, smell their scents. The darkened room was full of people.
He heard Quartzstone’s voice saying, “Endrick, rightful King of Emerald, welcome to your first meeting of the Shadow Council.”
Chapter 6
Greystone walked through a Globe of Transport, apparating into the Emerald Palace royal chambers. He waved at King Trant, King Keel, and Princess Margwen. Deedles the blind cat sat in Margwen’s lap. Greystone walked over and joined everyone at the table.
Trant said, “Thank you for coming. We wanted to ask about the Shadow Council.”
Trant said it with just a hint of trepidation. They had experimented following the horrific death they witnessed, but neither Keel nor Margwen nor himself seemed to be affected by mysterious black clouds of death when uttering the phrase. Evidently the spell had to be cast on a person, and it had not been cast on them. They speculated this was a way of keeping the Shadow Council secret. Anyone belonging would die if they spoke of it.
He proceeded to tell Greystone everything that happened, and all that they knew. When he finished, the wizard leaned back in the chair and stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Trant said, “I know that in all the years I lived with you, you never mentioned anything like this. Truthfully, we weren’t sure if even you had ever heard of it. But we had to ask.”
Greystone said, “It is out of legend, something mentioned only rarely. Many think the Shadow Council does not really exist.”
“What is it, exactly?” Margwen said.
“Supposedly the Shadow Council is made of powerful people from all the realms. They are said to discuss things like wars to be fought, kings to be killed, and fortunes to be earned. Rumor has it they were the ones behind Lok during his rise to power. And rumor has it they seek to return him to power, although that rumor has withered on the vine over the centuries.”
Keel said, “So, do we know any who are members of this Shadow Council? I would hate to think anyone from Emerald or Coral was involved.”
Greystone shook his head. “I’m afraid wizards are not all-knowing, Your Majesty. However, now that you have brought this to my attention, I’m beginning to wonder if certain wizards might have a hand in it. That would actually make sense.”
Trant said, “You’re thinking of the three who did not show up to fight against Darkstone.”
Greystone nodded. “Their absence and subsequent actions would explain a lot, if they were part of a larger conspiracy.”
He stroked his beard some more, deep in thought. Finally he looked up and smiled at Margwen, stroking the cat.
“You should continue with your wedding plans, my dear. Don’t let the doddering of a daft old fool dissuade you from planning your special day.”
Margwen smiled back and said, “I’m not. The wedding is still on. I would be delighted if you were there, though. It would give us all peace of mind.”
“What? But of course I will be there. How could I miss Trant’s wedding day after all these years of preparing him for it?”
With a chuckle at the thought, he made a twirling motion with his finger and a yellow globe appeared behind him, swirling lazily.
“I’ve got to go consult with Oldstone about these matters. He knows more than I do about some things, hard as that is to believe.”
He stood, bowed before the royals, turned and walked through the globe.
-+-
“I must say, Phanissa, your family’s garden is quite beautiful.”
“Thank you, Bartimo.”
When she smiled, everything around him seemed to brighten, making up for the sunshine fading with the setting sun. Her shiny dark hair had grown since he left on his venture, to below her waist. She could, in fact, sit on it now. It hung down straight in a broad swath of brunette glory that took his breath away.
He followed her down a path in a very large garden behind the Finero household. Finero’s manse was one of the finest in Refugio, if not the largest. It sat atop a hill among verdant landscaping on the edge of town. Someone, or perhaps several someones Bartimo thought, had excellent nature magic to take care of this much outdoor scenery and keep it looking so wonderful. He felt duly impressed.
Voices chirped behind them.
“He’s very polite.”
“Indeed. ‘Civility marks the measure of a man,’ I always say.”
Bartimo turned and smiled at those following them. In the lead came Phanissa’s mother Ermina, who had made the observation. She looked like an older version of her daughter, with shoulder-length hair.
Walking beside her and stating the proverb was Phanissa’s nanny Hassetta, a short but stout woman with a single streak of gray down the middle of her hair.
Behind them trailed half a dozen household servants, all women accompanying the party ostensibly to help keep an eye on Bartimo so that he would not try and take advantage of Phanissa. In reality, the servants reveled in their free time from work and chatted happily amongst themselves.
This, in Bartimo’s estimation, was more like a proper reception for a potential suitor.
This is the way it should be, he thought. Very traditional.
Unlike in the Palento household, he had not been allowed a single moment alone with Phanissa. That suited him just fine.
Part of the purpose of these social rituals was not only for the potential marriage partner’s family to get to know him. Part of it was for him to get to know them. So far, he very much liked what he saw of the Finero household. He especially liked that they honored the old traditions.
Phanissa said, “Wait until you see the view!”
She hurried ahead and Bartimo picked up his pace. This led to a chain reaction with the eight-person chaperone train, all of whom also hurried up.
They rounded a bend in the hedgerows and came out to an open grassy area rimmed by a low stone wall. Phanissa stopped at the wall and turned back toward Bartimo. She made a sweeping gesture with her arms.
“This is the best view in all Refugio!”
He stopped and admired the sight. Beyond the wall, a cliff fell a hundred paces straight down to the ocean. Ahead, frothy white wave tops above deep blue water stretched to the horizon. Seagulls dotted the sky, flashing white in the rays of the setting sun. To the right lay Refugio’s quay, and the city stretched back behind it.
Bartimo nodded, soaking in the view as the other women approached and crowded around him.
He turned to look down at Phanissa and said, “You’re right. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Ermina and Hassetta shared a private smile. They knew he was not referring to the scenery.
That evening after a sumptuous dinner, Bartimo retired to the manse’s sitting room with Finero, Ermina, and Phanissa. A maid brought in a crystal decanter of brandy and poured some into snifters for the men. Bartimo took a small sip and his eyes widened at the rich flavor as it rolled down his throat.
Finero had a thick shock of white hair, unlike his wife and daughter. His face glowed with the island tan of someone who spent time outdoors. He looked refined, Bartimo thought. Wise and wealthy.
Finero said, “Good, eh? It’s imported from a famous distillery in the holy lands. It’s rather expensive here because it has to come a long way over both land and water.”
“I imagine,” Ba
rtimo said, taking another sip, “brandy this fine is expensive wherever it’s sold.”
Finero smiled, showing his teeth. The statement was not just factual, it was intended as a subtle compliment to Finero’s good taste. The older man took it as such, and appreciated the gesture.
He said, “You’ve been raised well, Bartimo. I must confess I find this surprising, if you don’t mind my saying so, given the fact you and your sister were orphaned.”
Bartimo nodded. He said, “While the priests in our orphanage could never replace our parents, they did a good job in schooling us and preparing us for proper living. I regret that I cannot offer a strong lineage to link to your family.”
Finero waved it aside, making a dismissive gesture in the air with his snifter.
“Commercial merit carries far more weight in these parts than lineage does on the mainland. Bringing back so much gold has raised your social status in Refugio enormously.”
“Too bad you had to visit the Palento household first,” Phanissa said, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
Ermina shot her daughter a reproving glance. Bartimo caught it, and noticed again how she seemed like an older version of Phanissa.
He smiled apologetically and said, “Custom dictates the oldest families are called upon first.”
Finero nodded. “Indeed. Certainly Palento has a longer lineage than I do. We take no offense at your choice, despite having funded the bulk of your venture.”
A silence followed. Both men took sips of their brandy while the women looked at each other.
Bartimo set his snifter down and paused to make sure he phrased his next words correctly.
He said, “If it is alright with you, Master Finero, and your wife . . . I would like to continue calling on your household and pursue formal courtship with your daughter.”
Minor pneumatic explosions came from the women as Ermina gasped and Phanissa let out the breath she had been holding.
Finero looked at them, the two most important women in his life, and he smiled. Both exuded complete and utter happiness at that moment.
He said, “I must say we are very pleased you have made this decision, Bartimo. You are absolutely welcome here, and you may begin courting our daughter immediately.”
Phanissa squealed in delight and hopped out of her chair. She ran and grabbed her mother’s hands, jumping up and down in joy. Ermina clearly felt excited too, sharing in her daughter’s delight. She stood up at Phanissa’s urging and they made their way to the door. She smiled back apologetically at the men, who were both standing now as they departed.
“We’ve got to get ready!” Ermina said, and they hurried out the door together.
When they were gone Bartimo looked back at Finero and said, “I was under the impression courtship would take a while. At the very least, a couple weeks.”
Finero chuckled. He said, “By ‘getting ready,’ I suspect she means my daughter has to write all her friends and go through her hope chest. I’m sure you’ll see her again before you depart tonight.”
They both settled back into their seats.
Finero took another sip of brandy and said, “We were very concerned, as you may well imagine, that you would choose the Palento family. Phanissa and Tisha are rivals, you know.”
Bartimo’s brows shot up in surprise. He said, “No, I did not know that.”
“Oh yes.” Finero sighed. “I fear Phanissa may well be rubbing this in Tisha’s face for the rest of their days.”
“Well, I’m sure Tisha will have her choice of suitors. There are many fine commercial men who would love to join House Palento.”
“No doubt. But, you are the only one they both have expressed an interested in. So this is a major victory for my daughter.”
Bartimo smiled and said, “I was under the impression I was in charge of my own destiny, but it seems I’m only a pawn in the game played by the great families of Refugio.”
Finero barked in laughter. He said, “Don’t sell yourself short, my boy. I think you know how to play the game, same as the rest of us.”
He sipped from his glass and said, “But I am glad you did not choose Leddia’s family, and I would have felt the same had you chosen another besides us. Not as happy as I am you chose Phanissa, but I would be delighted had you not chosen Tisha, regardless.”
Bartimo said, “Leddia told me of your early venture with Palento, on the first trip to supply Port Osmo with copper tiles. She said you accused him of cheating, but she was vague on the details.”
“And with this accusation hanging in the air, you still deigned to court my daughter?”
Bartimo smiled. He said, “I decided Leddia’s version of events did not stack up. And Family Finero has always had a solid reputation for fair dealings over many years.”
Finero leaned back in his chair. His already high opinion of his future son-in-law rose even higher.
He said, “Well, I did have the original idea of selling copper tiles from the south to the dwarves. We were in Port Osmo and it was clear they knew little about above ground structures, rooftops in particular. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing. It’s just Leddia said it was Palento’s idea.”
“Ah, I see. No, it was in fact my idea. What else did she say?”
“She said you accused him of cheating investors but you couldn’t prove it.”
“That part is true. He was pocketing more of the profits than the standard fifteen percent. I learned to always keep an eye on the books after that trip. Palento reported a higher cost for the product, and lower profits on the sales. I knew for a fact the numbers he produced in the Hall of Commerce on our return were off, by a significant margin. I did not know by exactly how much, because he was the only one with access to the records.
“I did let some people know my thoughts. I was in my cups one night at a pub. Word got around. It taught me two more lessons: never drink too much and never talk too much. Talking did no good because I had no solid evidence to back up my claim, even though I knew personally the numbers were off. I was there when we bought our tiles, and I was there when most of them were sold. I did most of the selling myself. But without the books, the real books, I had no proof.
“Over the years, Palento’s pattern continued. His books were off in many ventures, yet none could prove it. I think it contributed to his death.”
“How did he die? I’ve never heard.”
“A group of merchants from Coral were in town, fresh off the boat, looking to make a deal selling a copious amount of silk they said they had access to. After considerable discussion in the local pubs, they knocked on his door saying his name had been highly recommended. He invited them in. They insisted he go with them for more conversation at a nearby pub. He agreed. He left the house with them, and never came home again.
“His body was never found. The Coralian merchants were never seen again, although a ship left that night on the evening tide and it was widely presumed they were on it. Months went by, and there was no sign of Palento. After the third year, he was proclaimed dead in the Hall of Commerce, and his estate fell under Leddia’s control. That was ten or twelve years ago.”
Bartimo said, “That’s a shame. So, the merchants absconded with him, you think? That seems like strange actions for merchants.”
“For merchants, yes. Assassins, no.”
“But there’s still hope he’s alive, yes?”
“No. Not after all this time. He has been declared dead. To her credit, I will say Leddia has never remarried. Although, some think that is because she enjoys controlling the family fortune. She certainly has had her own share of suitors who would dearly love to marry her and become head of the family, and thus the fortune. But for better or worse, no one has struck her fancy.”
“She offered the possibility of a husband for my sister. At first glance, such a proposition would be very advantageous to us. But I discovered she was considering Jerro for her. Bellasondra would never have agreed to marry h
im, were she here.”
“Jerro?” Finero laughed. “That’s rich. Yes, your sister would be marrying beneath her. I could see how the deal would have benefited the Palento family much more than yours. Besides, Jerro is a drunk. No, you can’t trust them. Your instincts were spot on.”
Finero took a final sip of brandy and set the glass down. He said, “We are depriving Leddia of a major investment by taking you under our wing. She could dearly use a prominent marriage to her daughter right now. By marrying off Tisha to a suitable young man, it would benefit the family without her having to give up control of her money, you see. She could remain in charge as her fortune grew along with the family.
“You’ve made me a happy man tonight, Bartimo. In more ways than one.”
Bartimo raised his glass to the older man before taking his own final sip.
He said, “I’m honored to join your family.”
“And by doing so, strike a blow against my rival?”
“Your friends are my friends. Your rivals are now my rivals.”
Finero chuckled. He said, “Ah, Bartimo. You are going to fit into this family so well.”
-+-
Mita stepped back through the arch and at long last left Mist behind. She blinked in the sunlight, the last rays of the afternoon catching her in the eyes.
Standing on his slab, Oldstone looked at her expectantly, waiting to discover if she were a wizard or not. In response, Mita held out her arm and the darkstone staff suddenly appeared in her grip.
A black light glowed from the stone, casting an aura that seemed to suck sunlight out of existence. She raised the staff above her head and a dark globe exploded around her.
PHOOM!
The staff now belonged to her.
She walked to the slab and stepped up on it to stand next to Oldstone.
She smiled and said, “I’ve never felt this much power before.”
Oldstone arched an eyebrow. He could feel the raw energy coursing through her, and for a moment he wondered if Theena would have experienced the same had she lived long enough to claim a stone.
