“You’re not thinking clearly, Mason.” The Prefect looked at William, but the big man gave no sign he was listening. Mason thought that was an act, but he didn’t care what William heard. This was ludicrous. “Had I sent someone the moment they left, we probably would not have seen anyone. Rendal holds sway over our minds when we look at them, son. It’s a magic I don’t understand. We needed magic to battle magic, so I waited for you. Our scouts said you were returning, and you have. Now we can discuss our alternatives.”
The Prefect turned again to William and the window.
“I don’t think those people out there are from Sidnie. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Mason answered. In the desert at the tent city, he hadn’t thought through what his father might think of this choice. It’d simply been one of survival more than anything else.
Now, he realized he was being judged.
For the way they looked.
He could almost see it in William’s face. Mutants.
“May I ask why you didn’t continue to Sidnie as you were instructed?”
“And if I had, Father, where would we be now? I’d be another eight days away, at least, and Riley would most likely be dead.”
The Prefect said nothing for a second, then stood up and walked across the floor to the window.
“They’re a lively bunch.”
William snorted but said nothing.
“The question is, do they know magic, son? And can they follow orders? If we’re going to war, then they must be able to help. If not, there’s no point in heading north. We should simply try to fortify our defenses here.”
Mason stood. “Come on, let’s go see what they can do.”
William followed the two Prefects downstairs toward the courtyard, where the group of mutants was getting drunk. Personally, William thought Mason had lost his damn mind. He’d been sent to Sidnie for mages, and he’d brought back mutants.
They made William’s skin crawl. He’d never met any before, but he’d heard about them. He wondered if it might be contagious; if perhaps one of the extra appendages growing off their arms or legs might somehow spread to him. He’d wake up with a finger sticking out of his forehead or something.
Mason had lost his mind, that was for sure.
The other sure thing was that they were wasting time.
They needed to be going to get Riley.
William said none of this, however. It wasn’t his place. He served Goland and Mason would one day take his father’s place, even if he was now batshit crazy.
They entered the courtyard and William nearly groaned.
The place was a mess.
They’d been here two hours tops, and three of the strangers were already passed out on the ground. One woman lay on her stomach, her pants halfway off so that her tan ass was staring at everyone.
The leader—his name was Worth and nothing else from what William gathered—sat at a table. A large jug of wine was in front of him, and his lips were purple from drinking it.
He looked at the three men and smiled.
“Strong! Strong drink!”
He laughed heartily.
The Prefect looked mortified, and Mason looked somewhat frightened. None of them had expected this.
A mutant without an arm walked up and draped the one he did have over Worth. He kissed the big man’s cheek. “Good. Good food.”
He stumbled off merrily back to the other side of the courtyard, where it looked like some kind of card game was being played.
“Have they ever drunk alcohol before?” William asked.
“I don’t know.” Mason stepped over to the leader. To William, the man didn’t appear to have any mutations, but who knew for certain? “Have you had alcohol before?”
“Yes! Yes! Just not in while. Long while. It’s gooooood.” The man smiled broadly, showing how pleased he was with it.
William’s right hand began trembling with rage. The man in front of him was big, but William was about ten seconds away from snapping his neck and throwing the rest of these mutants into the jails beneath the castle.
“Son,” Goland started. “This is... What is happening right now?”
Mason said nothing, only stared at Worth.
“Oh, oh. I see. I see.” The mutants’ leader stood. “This father? He not like drunk?” The big man smiled and swayed a bit. “Sorry. Sorry. I am Worth. You father?”
The Prefect remained quiet, and William thought his other hand might start trembling too. This was an embarrassment to all involved.
“He no like us?” Worth turned to Mason. “Mutants not liked here either?”
Mason shook his head. “No. You’re welcome here. You’re welcome anywhere I am. My father is the ruler here. Our Prefect. I told him you were magic, and I told him you would help us. The woman, she’s been taken—”
“Took?” The drunk man’s face showed complete confusion. “Gone?”
“Yes, gone. The mage took her back to his home. We have to go get her, and my father wants to know that you are magic.”
William hardly understood the drunk’s words, nor did he understand why Mason kept saying things like “you are magic.” It was as if he was using their primitive speech.
Insane, all of it, he thought. The Prefect has to see it and kick these people out. We have to leave. Gather the army and leave.
“He want magic? If we show magic, he happy?” Worth asked.
“Yes. He’ll be happy.”
“Ha!” Worth turned around. “Torney!”
William didn’t know who he was shouting to but no one looked over.
“Torney!”
Finally, the woman on the ground rolled over. She pulled her pants up, sat up and looked at Worth. “What?”
“They want see magic. Don’t believe.”
The woman’s lips were as purple as Worth’s, and when she smiled, her teeth were too. “What see?”
“Your Grace,” William whispered, “this is ridiculous. We need to get out of here now. These damn people are no more mages than my ass.”
William was still talking when he started to rise into the air. Words flowed out of his mouth as his eyes grew wider.
“What? What is this!” he shouted.
Higher he rose, and he watched as his shoelaces started untying themselves.
Everyone beneath stared up at him, and the mutants were laughing. Hooting, hollering, and pointing as if he was some kind of freaking show.
“PUT ME DOWN!” William bellowed, rage filling his body. He swung his arms left and right and kicked his feet, trying to find some way to get down.
He stopped rising, but his shoes flew from his feet.
“Magic, aye!” Worth shouted from below, slapping his knee. “Magic, his ass!”
William understood then.
“No! No! No!”
It was too late.
His belt was coming undone, and the buttons on his pants were doing the same.
“NO!”
His pants snapped off just as his shoes had.
His underwear came next, and William was naked from the waist down in front of everyone. The laughter from below drowned out everything. Worth was crying now—slapping his knees and actually crying.
William shut up, knowing there was nothing he could do as he was turned over in the air, his bare ass visible to everyone.
Worth spoke from beneath him. “We magic. Tell father we magic and we ready to find woman. We magic, so let’s go!”
Mason could barely stop smiling. It was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen in his life, despite the terror of Riley’s absence. Goodness, it had been rich.
William didn’t think so, of course.
When Torney finally put him down, William tried to kill her. He’d charged across the courtyard like a madman, but that hadn’t lasted long. Torney froze him again, and everyone could see William straining, but he hadn’t been able to move regardless of what he did.
Everyone kept laughing, including Ma
son, and that only made William madder.
Finally, things had settled down.
The tent people were sleeping off their drunk, except for Worth, whom Goland had invited back to his quarters.
Now, the three of them sat at a large table—Mason, his father, and Worth. William stood away from the gathering, as was expected of a Right Hand.
He was still fuming, but Mason thought he understood these people’s value now. If William tried to kill them, he’d be trying to kill Riley. New Perth needed these tent people.
“When do we leave?” Mason asked.
“Hold your horses, son. Worth, how much magic can you do? That was an impressive showing down there—” The Prefect started chuckling, unable to help himself. Mason saw William gripping his hands into fists, but the Right Hand said nothing. “But what else? Taking pants off in midair isn’t going to help us defeat Rendal.”
Worth nodded. “Yes. Yes. All magic. We do all magic. Have to. Hard world in desert. Must have defense.”
“I’m not an expert on magic, Worth,” Goland continued. “I know the gist, but not all of it. You can do magic that messes with people’s heads, is that correct?”
“Head magic?” Worth asked.
Goland looked at Mason, who shrugged. He didn’t know how to answer.
“Yes. You can read minds?”
“Ah!” Worth smiled and showed off his still purple teeth. “Think number.”
“Huh?” Goland asked.
“He wants you to think of a number, Father.”
“Okaaaay,” Goland said.
“Nine. Another.”
Goland’s eyes narrowed.
“Forty-two. Big man behind wonder how much I weigh. William. Want to throw me through window.” He smiled as he spoke, no anger in his eyes. He kept looking at Goland.
The Prefect turned to William. His face was bright red, almost a constant now. “Is that true, William? Were you wondering his weight?”
William nodded.
“We magic. All kind magic,” Worth said as Goland turned back to the table.
“I don’t know enough about any of this to understand if the man has what it takes.” Goland looked at Mason. “I guess we don’t have a choice, though. You were right to bring them back, but I have to ask myself, is getting Riley worth it? Is she worth going to war?”
Mason closed his eyes, and when he did, he saw Riley’s face. Not when she was in the castle’s ward, but when they were younger. He saw her at Lucie’s restaurant eating some stew Lucie had given her. Riley’s face had been dirty, and when she’d looked up at him, she’d laughed.
You’re taller in the parades, was what she’d said, recognizing him immediately.
Mason opened his eyes. “She is.”
He saw William’s hands relax from the corner of his eye.
“She’s worth it, without a doubt.”
“How many soldiers do I send?” Goland pulled a pouch of tobacco from his pocket, as well as cigarette papers. “I’ve never attacked anyone, and neither did my father. This is new. There are so many variables that go into it.”
“Your Grace,” William commented from behind him, “we might not need to send an army. We have the magical mutants. You could send me, Verith, and them. We could be a smaller group, and if those mutants are right, we’ll be able to rescue her. We’ll move quicker, too.”
“And me.” Mason found William’s eyes. “I’m going too.”
His father looked at him. “Heir to the throne, you’d wish to set aside your duty to this city for her?”
“Her duty is to me. Mine is to her.”
Goland nodded. “Perhaps.”
“Your Grace, we’ve got to act now,” William demanded. “We haven’t got time to waste. They have a two-day head start. If we leave right now, she’ll have been in that compound for a full two days. That’s too long.”
The Prefect turned to William. “I know my business, Right Hand.”
He sighed, standing up and walking toward the window. He looked down at the courtyard, where the servants were cleaning.
“Or maybe I don’t know my business. I’m old, and I feel older with each minute that passes. This Rendal man—he’s something from the past, and the world forgot about him. He didn’t forget about the world, though. I’m sorry, William. You deserve better than for me to snap at you. Your friend is in danger. My son’s Right Hand.” He nodded, although Mason thought he was nodding to himself rather than to anyone else in the room. He didn’t look at them when he spoke next. “Get the tent people, Mason. Go and bring her back. I care more about that than war. Kill Rendal if you can, but your first duty is to bring back the Right Hand. If Rendal wants war after that, we’ll prepare.”
“You don’t have to worry about that, Your Grace,” William declared. “If I see that fucking mage, I’ll rip his throat out for what he’s done.”
“We ready go?” Worth stood up, swaying slightly, purple lips smiling. “Go get your woman, aye?”
“Aye,” Mason agreed. “Let’s go get her.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rendal stood next to Artino.
The man was silent, staring at the person in front of him. He wasn’t bustling around the laboratory as usual. He wasn’t talking about interruptions incessantly. He wasn’t looking at his feet. It happened very rarely, but Artino was in his element.
And Rendal knew what that meant.
He thought the experiment would be a success.
And right on time, too. Rendal had been following Harold’s progress since he left, and the army would be arriving in an hour or so.
“Is he ready?” Rendal asked, looking at the man across the laboratory. He wore a red necklace. It wasn’t lit, but looked dull beneath the bright lights above.
“It’s not him that matters, Rendal. It’s the equipment.”
“Well, Artino, is the necklace ready?”
“Equipment, Rendal! Equipment. It’s not a necklace.” Artino shook his head, then looked at his subject again. “Yes. It’s ready. Here.”
He handed Rendal a red bracelet.
“I changed the color of it because if you confuse it with your other one, you’ll be dead in the water.”
Rendal thought he saw a small grin trying to form at the corner of the man’s mouth; his own joke on Rendal, perhaps getting him back for all the interruptions. This was his way of calling Rendal dumb.
Rendal didn’t give a damn. He took the bracelet and slapped it on his right wrist.
Nothing happened.
“What am I supposed to do, Artino?” The damn contraption wasn’t working.
“Give it a second. They take time to see each other. You will feel it soon.”
Rendal was quiet, looking at the man on the other side of the room. His eyes were open, and he was staring straight into space as if he couldn’t see anything.
And then Rendal felt it.
The bracelet on his wrist turned dark red, like the color of blood.
The red necklace across the room lit up too.
“Oh, this is good, Artino. This is very, very good.”
“Sir, the woman is in her room.”
Rendal could not remember the last time he had been in such high spirits. If he were honest, he hadn’t thought Artino’s engineering would work. Not this time. What Rendal had asked him to do was too difficult. Nay, Rendal had thought it impossible.
But it did work.
Artino was a genius, and when Rendal was Prefect of New Perth, the man would come right along with him.
Harold was here now, and the Right Hand had been returned.
The two stood on the north side of the compound, Rendal having been watching the sea crash against the cliffs below. He felt so good that for once he hadn’t been working. He just wanted to watch the sea and enjoy how close he was to his goals finally coming to fruition.
Rendal turned to his head guard.
“How were your travels?”
“They were fine, especially wi
th the cover you gave us.”
Rendal smiled. “Times are good, Harold. Times are very, very good, and I have a feeling they’re going to get better. Come walk with me for a minute.”
Harold stepped forward, and he and Rendal started walking west. The sound of water breaking on the cliffs below made its way to their ears, and the smell of salt was heavy in the air.
“What do you think of her?” Rendal asked.
“She’s a devastating fighter,” Harold answered.
“Do you think she will bend to my will? Do you think she’ll join our cause?”
“No.” Harold’s eyes narrowed. “I think she’ll die first.”
Rendal nodded, his feet moving slowly over the bare ground. “They all say that at first, don’t they? That they won’t join. It’s rare, though, that someone doesn’t join. Let me ask you, Harold, would you want her to join?”
“My opinion doesn’t matter, sir. I serve at your leisure.”
“I know. I know. But I’m asking your opinion, so humor me. Would you want her to join?”
Rendal wanted to see how truthful Harold would be right now. He understood the imbalance Harold was feeling. The man’s soul followed power and nothing else. Rendal was the most powerful person he’d ever met, so Harold had fallen right into place.
But if he thought this woman was more powerful, then Harold would follow her. He would switch allegiance because that was how people like Harold survived. You didn’t fight power. You joined it.
“If she can serve, then yes, I think she should join. If she cannot serve, then she has no place here. Like I said, sir, she’s a devastating warrior. Perhaps the best I’ve ever seen. She would be a great addition if she will kneel before you.”
Rendal was quiet for a few moments. He was looking through Harold’s mind, trying to understand if the man was lying.
He couldn’t tell, and that was an odd thing. Harold was not complicated. Smart? Yes. Ruthless? Double yes. But complicated? No. The world was black and white to Harold, but right now he seemed to be confused.
And only one thing could have led to that.
Harold didn’t know who was more powerful, Rendal or the Right Hand. Rendal or Riley.
The Dark Mage (Hand Of Justice Book 1) Page 15
