I was surprised when the woman did not hesitate. She bowed, bending her knees and dropping her head. “Of course, my Lord.” She turned and walked away.
Minos gestured. “This way.” He led us into a small antechamber. A torch blazed in one corner. I could see through the arch on the other side the indications of a bedchamber; a thick carpet covered the stone floor, and silks hung from a wood lattice. Odd trappings for a dwarf, but if his wife was what I suspected, it fit.
He turned to face us. “What do you need to say that you could not speak in front of the others?”
I considered continuing the ruse a bit further to see how much control the woman had over Minos, but my companion seized the moment.
Lazul grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Minos, you are now Chieftain of the Graz. I saw Delos slain with my own eyes. I spoke over his grave, where he is buried with his axe in his grip.”
Minos considered. “How did he fall?”
Lazul continued. “Battling a great enemy of unknown strength. He has yet to be avenged, though I tremble to do so. They are fell beasts, riders that burn with blue fire. They’re following us. That’s why we came here. We knew you would be able to protect us and give aid, even as you sought to avenge your fallen lord. One of our companions claimed his ring to return to you, but even he has fallen to these enemies.”
“How convenient.”
I briefly saw another place. Another time. I still did not know why I was having these visions, but they were proving useful. “Delos told you, before he left, to rule wisely. He told you he’d found something that he wanted to keep secret a while longer.”
Minos inspected me. “How do you know?”
I bluffed. “He told me before he died.”
“Really? Did he tell you what secret he discovered?”
Again, I lied. “No.” I dared say no more. I was never a very good liar. In truth, the vision told me what he’d found. Later, Minos had sprung the trap that Delos was too wise to touch.
The new chief pondered a moment before nodding. “Very well. You shall have our protection. But all this you could have spoken in front of the others; they too should know the fate of their chief.”
I changed the subject. “Minos, I noticed that your wife has beauty unsurpassed by both dwarves and humans, and even elves.”
His face brightened. “Delia. My wonderful jewel, more precious than all the stones of the earth. She was rescued.” His breath quickened as he recalled it. The story flowed out of him.
“Shortly after Delos went to Scarletholme, our men were mining below, searching for new veins of ore. They broke into an undiscovered cavern. There was a city in it, an ancient city none had ever seen before. And she was there, sleeping upon a throne of granite in the middle of the town. No others were found. The men brought her to me, and she was of such beauty I kissed her. That is when she awoke. Can you imagine it? It is just as the tales of old Barad, when he discovered the ancient city and the princess. As she looked up at me, she said that she would be my wife, for I had broken the curse. She has aided me in governing the Graz ever since and has directed us to more and more plentiful deposits of whatever I request. She is bringing us to new heights of glory!” He fairly roared the last, his eyes wide in excitement.
I glanced at Lazul. I think he understood what I suspected. He chose to continue the questioning. “Does she demand to be present for every one of your decisions?”
“Of course not. She makes the best wife a dwarf ever had. She does not argue; she does not control me. She supports my boasts, no matter how outlandish! She is the perfect wife and will now be the perfect chief’s wife.” His smile was broad.
“Then she will not argue that you will protect us?”
“No.” He waved his hand, dismissing the thought. “Why would she? She knows that I am the master. My words are final.” He glanced at us. “Tonight, you shall feast with us. We will tell stories of our departed chief, and we shall celebrate the life he once led. Come now! We shall rejoin the others and tell my men what has transpired.”
Delia entered the room. She approached her lord and bowed. “Husband, I would have you wait in the bedroom for just a moment.” She offered a cunning smile.
Minos grinned broadly and turned to do as he was bidden, not saying a word. As he went to the next room, Delia watched. Finally, she addressed us. “You are mighty lords. Especially you, a dwarven chief from another kingdom. I did not think that any could be greater or stronger than my Minos, but it appears I was wrong.” She reached forward to take his arm. It was then that I noticed words floating from her lips, like a small cloud of dust that landed on Lazul.
Lazul shrugged her off and backed away a step.
“Come. Wouldn’t that be something? To steal the wife of another chief?” She swayed close to him again. “And think of how much you could hold it over the Graz.”
I shook my head. The words continued settling on Lazul. I couldn’t remember. How did the stories go? What did they say about this kind of situation?
And then Karen Cordolis stormed out of her hiding place in Lazul’s pack. “I see you for what you are, child of darkness!” She pointed an accusing finger.
Delia flinched at the words.
I blinked, remembering, I stepped forward. “You are a jezebel. You have been discovered. You hold no power over us.”
She snarled at me, backed away a pace, and loosed a piercing scream.
Chapter Thirty
Minos leaped into the room. His wife pointed at us. “They tried to force themselves on me!” she wailed. She tried to hide her body with her arms, shaking.
It was a very convincing act.
Daragen was at the other door, his eyes ablaze. “You would dare take the honor of my Lady?”
A raging dwarven husband on one side and a frenzied Habrini on the other backed Lazul and me into a corner. Daragen drew his daggers, and Minos snatched up his axe. Delia still cried and shook in the corner opposite us. Behind Daragen other dwarves were piling into the room as well as Abani and Galatea. I could hear the elves in the next room, holding back as many dwarves as they could.
Lazul roared, “Can’t you fools see? She’s a jezebel! She’s controlling you!”
“Enough! You shall not slander the name of my wife!” Minos charged Lazul, his axe raised. Lazul brought his own axe up under the upraised swing, blocking the great axe. The metallic ring exploded into the room, and Lazul’s axe head sundered. The remnant of his axe head slashed upward, and a great scarlet stripe appeared on Minos’s face.
And then Daragen was upon me. “Was it you, Adal? You should know better!” His eyes blazed in holy fury. He slashed at me. I was able to dodge the dagger once, but he moved so much more quickly than I did.
And then Galatea stood between us. “Daragen, stop.”
The Garrendai blade came down on Galatea, hard, plunging into her shoulder. She did not move to defend herself. She fell back a step and spoke through gritted teeth, “Daragen, I hate your people. I hate the Habrini. But I am paired to you. I have sworn to protect you. I will not let you betray us.”
Karen Cordolis screamed into Lazul’s ear, “Galatea’s doing the right thing! Remind Minos of your ties of kinship! No spell may bend you beyond who you truly are!”
Dwarves continued piling into the doorway. Abani stood between them and the rest of us. Her blade was in her hand, and her foot tapped the ground in a steady beat.
I hoped she could protect us long enough.
Time for a story of my own. Taking a deep breath, I gambled. “Great dwarves of Graz, hear me now, attend my words. Know that I speak only truth! Not all visitors are friends, and not all should be taken at their word! Even now there is a traitor in your midst from the outside!”
They did not move. I saw no reaction, so I continued on. “Your new queen is a jezebel, a thrall of the Fallen Lord himself!”
Behind me, I heard another cry of rage from Minos, but Lazul had started speaking to him.
Karen Cordolis scolded both of them. Something about behaving like dwarves.
I continued, desperate to keep the guards’ attention. “She’s enticed your new chief, and now she’ll control your kingdom and yield it to Garethen!” Their eyes were on me. That was all I needed for the moment.
“People are not always what they seem! You know the story: Once a thief had stolen a large sack of gold. The owner of the gold followed him with armed guards but had set out nearly a full day behind. The thief fled and stopped at a roadside inn. He was very clever. He entered the inn as pompous as any lord and set the sack of gold before him so the innkeeper could see what it was. ‘Guard my gold well. There are thieves following me, and they mean to have this. Should you do your job well, I will gladly pay three times the fee for my room. But know this: I have counted every piece of gold. If even one piece is stolen, I shall tell my men, and they will burn your inn to the ground.’ And the thief described the lord for the innkeeper, naming him a thief.”
To my amazement, I saw the words leaving my lips. They gathered around the dwarves, hanging like a fine mist in the air. I was certain my words were not as well-constructed as the elves’ might have been, but nonetheless, I could see that I was using a story to cast a spell of my own. I had just been attempting a delaying story that might convince some dwarves of the validity of my accusation about their new queen.
I continued. “That night the lord arrived well past sundown. He entered the tavern with his guards, and the innkeeper instantly recognized them. The innkeeper alerted some men he paid to keep peace, and the lord was accused of theft. He was hung that night, all because of a clever thief who got there first.”
And then the mist fell onto the dwarves. It did not seem to penetrate most, but I could see some blinking their eyes and considering what I had said. This was more than I had hoped for. Then the mist formed droplets that ran down their bodies in rivulets and dripped onto the ground, now dirty and vile. The ground soaked in the words. No one else seemed to notice the spell I had cast.
By now two more wounds had joined the first on Galatea’s body. Blood blossomed under her shirt. She cried out, “Daragen. Please. Don’t do this. You’ve hurt me enough already! Stop hurting me!”
Daragen growled, “He attacked an innocent woman! My woman! How dare you defend him!”
Galatea shook her head, “She isn’t the woman you wanted. She isn’t yours. The one you wanted denied you.”
Daragen lashed out again, too frenzied to even hit his mark.
“I’m only trying to help you, Daragen. We still flow the same direction.”
“She will be mine! You can’t keep her from me!”
“And I will not be kept from you, either! I will stay with you. You are my mate.”
Daragen fell back. His eyes unclouded.
On the other side of the room, Minos struck again and again with his axe, as if he were wielding a great hammer upon the anvil of a dwarven body. Lazul’s axe was long ago reduced to metal slivers, and now he fell upon the ground, breathing heavy, trying to deflect blows with his bare hands.
The dwarven chief struck his foe a final time, and Lazul fell onto the stone floor. He breathed out a terrible groan and lay still.
Karen sprawled across the floor and then leaped to her feet to run to the dwarf that had carried her. She cried out, “You killed him! You killed another dwarven chief in no honorable combat! I thought you dwarves valued things like kinship between nations! You didn’t even give him the chance to defend himself! Some host you are, gudgeon!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.
A terrible crack sounded, a metallic snap like the bands about a mighty beast bursting. And that is when we all saw her.
Delia had changed.
She was not ugly. She was not some hideous monster. She was a human girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen harvests of age, and utterly average in appearance. Even her clothes were plain now, a simple brown tunic and plain rope belt. I would have never noticed her in my kingdom, and it was likely many youths had the same reaction. And that must have been how Garethen captured her and made her his own.
She sobbed, unrestrained tears streaking her dirty face. Then she screamed, “I will not fail my Lord Garethen!” And she lunged at her husband. A dagger was in her hand. I tried to get in the way, but I was old and far too slow. Minos was not.
His hand caught her wrist. Her dagger did not reach him. He looked into her eyes. “You made me kill a friend. We did not wait for combat as we should have. We did not have honorable battle as we should have. You made me break oaths that every dwarven chief makes.”
She writhed beneath his grasp, dropping the tiny knife she had tried to kill him with. “My arm.”
Minos shoved her toward the guards. “Take her away.”
He looked down at Lazul and at Karen beside him. “Little woman, I do not know what you are, but thank you for shouting me to my senses.”
“Nonsense. No spell can push you further than you would normally go, and I know how much you dwarves challenge one another to combat. You’d never kill an unarmed guest, especially one who came in peace.”
And that is when dead Lazul, the fallen dwarven chief, stood up.
Karen Cordolis smirked. “So, I lied.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Everyone moved.
The elves entered and went to work. Yolian started speaking stories to Galatea’s body, reminding it that it should be healthy and knit together. Soon the blood stopped flowing from her wounds.
Daragen stood a short distance off. He could not look at his mate. As soon as Yolian released her, Galatea went to him and embraced him. They did not move for a long time.
Cerulean tried getting to Lazul, but the dwarf shoved her away. “Elf, if a dwarf gets trounced, he deserved it for being weak!”
Minos promised to make reparations to Lazul and offered his own axe to replace the one that had been sundered. Lazul inspected it and deemed it “an acceptable offering”.
Abani was disgusted with the entire affair. “I was prepared to dance, and my song was stolen from me. How did you break the jezebel?”
I explained, “Karen Cordolis broke the enchantment over Minos, and that was enough. He was the target and center of her spells; when he was freed, the cords that bound any others were sundered.”
After that initial burst of movement, Minos imprisoned the jezebel in a dank stone dungeon that lay below the palace. We were told that she would be alone. Through some ingenious devices the dwarves could deliver food on a platform right into her cell; she would not ensorcell anyone else. I was surprised that they did not slay her, but Minos informed me that they would not kill any female unless she was directly threatening the life of a dwarf. This was the way of things under the earth.
Minos looked around at us. “Well. Now, we must remember our fallen chief. You, Chief Lazul, shall tell the story. And we shall feast!”
Lazul shook his head. “Let Adal tell it. He’s the storyteller here.”
And so it was.
Everything happened so fast. My companions and I were seated at a head table, and great crowds of dwarves gathered with us. They jostled each other for places around the long stone tables and boasted good-naturedly as the noise level grew. Mounds of steaming food were heaped onto our plates, and ale flowed freely. I couldn’t identify the many meats and fruits at the meal. Abani and the elves had similar problems in determining what was being offered, but both Lazul and Daragen ate eagerly. Galatea sat beside her mate, punching him often. Their healing gladdened me.
The Graz mourned through feasting.
Minos lifted a tankard of ale. “To Delos!”
The assembled dwarves repeated the action with a thundering, “To Delos!” All drank.
And then they made me tell the story of Delos’ fall once, and then again, and then Karen stepped in, greatly embellishing the tale to their merriment.
As the night passed, the dwarves demanded a different story from Karen Cordolis, an
d she resisted for only a few moments. She presented her own tale, though I could tell from the way she spoke she was embellishing beyond all tellings I had heard! She reveled in the performance, speaking in as many voices as she could muster and acting out her own part with great joy.
After nearly an hour of tales from Karen Cordolis, the dwarves pounded the tables with laughter, demanding more. The potato woman bowed and assented to their demands, but I found myself bored. Such tellings should have held my attention, but tonight I was distracted. I rose and walked away from the hall and left behind raucous laughter and Karen Cordolis’s voice.
My mind drifted back to the jezebel. Stories said that jezebels could enchant rulers. She had been left here by Garethen to be found. If such stories were taken away, would jezebels lose their power?
No. It couldn’t work that way, could it? Stories described reality; they didn’t define it.
Then again, spells were just stories, weren’t they? And I had seen spell stories change people, force a new reality where otherwise friendly people turned against us so quickly. No, there was power in the tales.
With such thoughts I wandered from room to room in the great palace. I saw many monuments and sensed many stories that wanted to be told, but I could not satisfy them. I had not the knowledge. Even as I wondered about the nature of the stories, I wanted to know more of them. I hungered to know their words.
I came to a narrow staircase. Unadorned bluestone stairs wound downward in a tight circle. The walls also were plain, but worn smooth. Torches lit the way as I followed where the stairs led. At last I came to a door that silently swung open at my touch.
A vast dungeon lay before me. I stood on a ledge perhaps five paces wide that circled the entire room. A pit, ten paces deep with tunnels branching from it, swallowed the bulk of the floor of the room. On the floor of the pit, white goblins scurried this way and that.
The Keeper of Tales Page 17
