Trafficking in Demons
Page 26
“Lord Ghaznavi,” I said, as I stood and inclined my head respectfully. “Sir Ivor. Sir Quinton. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
Quinton stroked the ends of his mustache as he and Ghaznavi looked to Ivor. The biggest of the three knights let out a sigh.
“I suppose that, as I was the first to suggest it,” he grumbled, “So I must be the first to say it to you. The three of us have concluded that you, and you alone, have been the steadiest defender of the realm.”
“Indeed,” Ghaznavi added. “Your courage and loyalty has never flagged. Even though others, such as my liege lord, have always spoken ill of you.”
“This is as my brother wrote,” Quinton put in. “And it is as I witnessed upon the field of the Spring Tournament.”
“We have therefore decided to ask you for a boon,” Ivor concluded. He slowly removed his helmet and then knelt before me. His companions did likewise. “We come to plead our admittance to the Order of the Weasel.”
A hush fell upon the room. I looked about. My friends seemed to be as surprised as me. Shaw looked completely thunderstruck.
“Are you three serious?” I asked. “You really wish to join the Order? I mean, you’re all aware of the consequences.”
“My family’s fortune is forfeit if you cannot pay your debts,” Quinton acknowledged.
“Or ‘our’ debts, if you admit us,” Ghaznavi added. “My fortune is rather small and inconsequential. But I will be stepping down as Head of the Order of the Golden Spear. Believe me, I am aware of the change.”
“And I bear my name only for the rest of the day,” Ivor said. “My father approved my joining you, if you are willing. However, in order to save the family fortune, he is going to disown me as his son. It’s nothing personal.”
“Look here,” I finally said. “You must know that I don’t have much to offer right now. My ‘Order’ doesn’t even have a real meeting place, save for this office. All I have are debts and a moth-eaten mascot.”
“A badly-stuffed weasel is better than a life spent without honor,” Ivor declared. “Though we were hoping for at least one ceremony, should you admit us.”
Rikka had left a couple of her shorter swords behind as a gift of sorts for me. I went over to where she’d left it atop one of my wall chests and took it in hand. As I did so, I glanced up to where Grand Master Mothball looking comically back down at me.
Things really were changing, if something as flea-bitten as him could be thought of as worthy.
And then my mind flashed back to the afternoon that Rikka and I had met Sir Quinton at The Quiet Peasant. I’d just mentioned beekeeping as a way to make money. He’d been skeptical, and recommended trapping animals instead.
Quinton had said, Many animals are worth more in the winter. When a new coat grows in, even the rattiest looking beast can look like a completely different creature.
My brain did one of its strange clicks as the tumblers lined up perfectly.
“Gentlemen,” I announced, as I stood before them. “There are going to be some changes, but good ones. I shall not admit you to the Order of the Weasel. Instead, I shall admit you to the Order of the Ermine. And we shall have but one goal: to protect those on the side of the Light.”
Suddenly, Shaw came forward to sit with bowed eagle head next to Sir Quinton.
“Dame Chrissie,” he said, in a choked voice. “I too would prefer to die without a life of honor. I beg thee, admit me as your loyal knight into the Order of the Ermine!”
In a flash, Liam came and dipped his antlers before me. “I also wish to be knighted, Dame Chrissie. For there is no burden a griffin can bear as well as a fayleene.”
Galen came to kneel at Liam’s side. “I think we all have the same wish. To continue to serve with you, in any capacity you allow.”
With a trembling voice, I had all six recite roughly the same oaths that I had bestowed upon Shelly Richardson.
My hands shook as they took the final vow in unison. “I so swear!”
“Then I, Dame Chrissie, in service of King Fitzwilliam of the line of Julian the Conqueror, shall do my duty as a knight of Andeluvia.”
I turned Rikka’s sword in my hand. I touched each person’s shoulders with the centaur-smithed blade. The blade created by her mother, the master weapons smith Inga Skallgrym.
The ceremony was complete.
They rose, the first of my shining new order of knights.
The End
# # #
Thanks for Reading!
Hello again, and I hope you enjoyed reading Trafficking in Demons.
Trafficking allowed me to finally put pen to paper on some thoughts I’ve had percolating for a long while. For example, for years I’ve had an idea for a story called The Centauress Knight, which would have centered on a centauress entered in a tournament designed for human warriors. Closer to home, I’ve been wanting to send another Andeluvian – at least one known to Dayna – through the portal and into Los Angeles. Looks like King Fitzwilliam (aka ‘Arthur’) got the magic ticket. And of course, I finally got to close out the mystery I’d posed since Book 5 – the real reason that the king put Dayna in the Order of the Weasel.
Now with the tournament behind her, a wounded monarch in Los Angles, and a trio of new knights, Dayna’s story continues in Book Eight, A Warrant of Wyverns.
If you liked this book, I’d truly appreciate a review on Amazon. Even if you’ve given a good review of an earlier story, these make all the difference. As this series grows, it’s evident that readers like you have tremendous influence in making (or un-making) a book, especially if it’s further along in a series.
If you wish, you can also drop me a line at michaelangelwriter@gmail.com.
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Thank you for reading Trafficking in Demons and for spending time with me and the Head of the newly minted Order of the Ermine!
Michael Angel