Power's Shadow
Page 12
Interest is one thing, but being followed? That is quite another.
Kel found himself wondering if he were walking into a trap. Marta was a witch after all, just as Dena was, and Kel was more than aware of what his own mistress was capable of doing. Yet the fact that he was not in Marta’s service did narrow her options at least somewhat.
She might simply be planning to drop a building on me.
It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. He had seen Dena do the same thing to some drunken tavern louts who had presumed liberties. The fact that there were other people in the tavern with no hand in her grievance hadn’t dissuaded her in the least. Kel’s experience with witches—and to be fair, most others with power of any sort—gave him no reason to feel that Marta would react any differently if she felt threatened. Kel kept his distance as best he could, but otherwise continued to follow. The witch known as Marta merely worried him. The possibility of Dena’s anger was a lot closer to terrifying.
As they approached the city center, the city guards became both more numerous and intentionally conspicuous, which Kel understood to mean that they were approaching the seats of power. Not that Marta and Sela appeared to notice. They proceeded directly along their route without hesitation, and if the guards spared them more than a glance as they passed, no one questioned or tried to hinder them. This left Kel in a bit of a struggle to keep pace, as he had no interest in drawing attention to himself. While he enjoyed remaining in human form as much as possible, there were bounties on his head in several of the kingdoms not excluding Conmyre. Kel didn’t think being a bond-servant to a witch would spare him a swift and official hanging if anyone recognized him.
Kel waited as long as he dared and then followed in the direction Marta and Sela had gone. If there was one skill that the old thief prided himself on, it was his ability to appear to belong wherever he happened to be, which was the true art of not drawing unnecessary attention to oneself. If anything, this was even more useful a skill than lock picking since it was the more likely of the two abilities to save one’s neck. Even so, Kel was barely able to catch up long enough to see the two women present themselves to an attendant at an iron gate which served as entrance to one of the larger walled villas to be found close to the city center, if still outside the palace grounds proper.
After only a slight delay they were admitted, and the gates shut firmly behind them. Kel studied the ironwork as well as the burly attendant himself, and considered following the two any further out of the question, at least during daylight. Instead he found a nearby pastry stall and, after buying and disposing of a rather delicious apple tart, began chatting with the owner, a rather handsome older woman whose grey eyes and yellow hair spoke of Wylandian heritage. After what he considered an appropriate interval, he got to the business at hand.
“I’m a traveler in this area and a student of architecture. I must say that this is the most beautiful city I have yet to visit. I was just admiring the iron-work on the home across the way there. Do you happen to know who lives there?”
“Then you really must visit King Elion’s palace. It’s not far from here. The ironwork there is second to none. As for that one,” she said, pointing at the place where Marta and Sela had disappeared. “That belongs to Count Maton.”
“Maton? I believe I have heard the name….” Kel said, lying amicably.
She shrugged. “I shouldn’t wonder. He’s one of the king’s own counsellors, and a man of some importance, as you can imagine.”
“Ah, no wonder, then, as his name is well known. My name, though not well known, is Toma, by the way. I’m from Lyrksa. Your city is a marvel and its people…charming. I hope I’ll be able to stop by again while I am here. That tart was superb,” Kel said, knowing that at least three of the statements were true, which for him was a decent percentage.
The woman blushed slightly. “My name is Aliora. Please do visit me again if you can. It’s always a pleasure to meet someone who…enjoys, good things.”
Kel smiled. “I am, indeed, such a person,” he said, and Aliora blushed again.
There was a time....
Kel sighed and then smiled again as he walked away, remembering.
§
In some ways Count Maton’s audience room reminded Marta of King Boranac’s. Especially in the way that, although obviously designed to hold a goodly number of people, there was almost no one there save herself, Sela, and Count Maton. Marta wasn’t terribly surprised. From her few times at King Alian’s court in Lythos Marta had learned that there was Court business and then there was the king’s business, and they were seldom the same thing.
Count Maton himself was a thin, angular man with very black hair with only a sprinkling of grey. Marta had never met him before, but she didn’t need to do so to know who he was—she could feel the debt-bond between them like a tether. An invisible, ethereal tether, but no less real for all that. While he was clearly a man of some wealth and importance, it was also equally clear that her presence terrified him. Which Marta considered a useful thing, so far as it went. Yet a terrified man was less likely to think clearly, and that wasn’t what she needed at all.
He rose from his ornate chair when Marta and Sela entered.
“Your servant told me to expect you. To what do I owe this pleasure, Lady Marta? And may I ask the name of your charming companion?”
The title as such meant nothing to Marta, but the fact that someone in Maton’s position was willing to use it in regard to herself told Marta a great deal. As she thought about it, she realized she’d been hearing it more and more lately, and she wondered if that was a good thing or not.
“This is Sela, your Excellency.”
Marta knew Sela had gotten at least a passing instruction at Court in Denelos, so she wasn’t surprised that her friend managed a passable curtsy, but Sela said nothing and Marta went on.
“Thank you for receiving us, Count Maton. I know you are a busy man but—“
She didn’t get to finish. There was a commotion in the hallway outside which sounded almost like a tavern brawl only without the sound of smashing crockery, and Sela reached for the hilt of her sword before the its absence apparently reminded her that she wasn’t wearing it. Count Maton, for his part, merely shook his head, looking tired.
“That will be Prince Dolan. I apologize in advance.”
Marta frowned. “Prince Dolan?”
“Borasur-Morushe. Either fifth or sixth in line for the throne. Frankly, I’ve lost count.”
Ω
8 gifts from the enemy
“Sometimes it will become necessary to overcome an obstacle, and if so do not hesitate. Most of the time, however, you will find that it proves much easier and more sensible to go around it.” – Black Kath’s Tally Book
The man who entered the room wasn’t quite the hulking brute Marta had expected to judge from the noise outside. He was, rather, a slim young man just over six feet tall, rather good looking in an unexceptional sort of way. He was dressed in very fine clothes which at that moment were somewhat in disarray.
“Count Maton, I—oh. I didn’t realize you were busy.”
“Which is likely what my servants were trying to tell you as you barged through my house, your Highness. As you can see, I’m somewhat occupied at the moment, so would it be possible…?”
The prince sighed. “Yes, yes of course. I was just in such a hurry to tell you the news—oh.” He stopped, blinking at the two women as if he’d just noticed them as people rather than obstacles preventing him from achieving his intent. “Ladies, please pardon me. A prince should have better manners, I know, but I do sometimes let my enthusiasms get the better of me, but when I found the sword—“ He stopped yet again, this time looking directly at Sela. “Pardon me again, milady, but do I know you?”
It was the first time that Marta recalled seeing Sela so flustered since the day they had met. “I-I wouldn’t believe so, Highness. I’m from Lyrksa originally, which is a long way—“
Marta at that point wondered if Sela felt as stunned as she herself did.
“Yes, Highness. My name is Sela. Did…did you know my father?”
His smile was wistful. “Not well. I did meet him, but only briefly. I was part of the delegation my father sent to receive one of Master Solthyr’s swords as a good-will gift from King Lokan. I saw you there. It was a few years ago, but I do remember you.” He turned to Maton. “Your Excellency, since I’ve been here this long and have already shown myself to be a lout, I think proper introductions might be in order?”
“Certainly, Highness. This is Lady Marta, from Lythos. Lady Sela I believe you’ve already met.”
“Lady Marta….” Prince Dolan met Marta’s gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then the moment passed and he appeared to be his good-natured self again. “Charming. I was going to be polite and leave, but perhaps Lady Sela would be interested in this—I’ve located one of Master Solthyr’s missing swords.”
Now both Marta and Sela were staring at him.
“I wasn’t aware any were missing,” Sela said. Marta shot her a hard glance and she reddened, slightly.
“Well, I confess that I didn’t know where it was, which to me was the same thing. Metallurgy is a hobby of mine. I’ve studied all three swords in my father’s armory, and I wanted to locate the others. Count Maton has been kind enough to grant me access to certain areas of the palace archives…being a foreign prince, of course, I can’t get to everything, quite rightly, but there’s still a great deal of information there.”
Three?
To the best of Marta’s understanding, Borasur-Morushe only had one of Master Solthyr’s blades. Now here was a prince of the kingdom saying that this was not the case. Marta made a quick decision.
“Your Highness, if it please you, I do have some private business to conduct with Count Maton. However, I believe Lady Sela here could shed some light on the location of the other swords you’re looking for. Perhaps, if the two of you were to withdraw for the moment to compare notes?”
“Splendid idea!” Dolan said, and he offered his arm to Sela. “M’lady, if you would be so kind?”
Sela took the prince’s arm, but not without a hard glance of her own toward Marta.
“I’d suggest my library,” Count Maton said, “but leave the door open. Propriety, you know.”
“Of course,” Prince Dolan said, and led Sela from the room. When they were gone, Count Maton bowed.
“Again, I do apologize. Prince Dolan isn’t a bad sort—for a prince, mind—but as he says, he does let his enthusiasms carry him away at times. I think princes, even ones far down the line of succession, are simply never told the meaning of ‘no.’”
“Well, if matters come to that, I do believe Lady Sela will be more than willing to explain it.”
Count Maton managed a smile. “He’s not that sort, at least. I would have heard. So. I know that my debt to your late mother now falls to you, Lady Marta. What is it you wish of me?”
“Before I get to that, I think I may need to apologize to you,” Marta said. “Which is not something I often feel the need to do.”
He frowned. “I dare say, but why would you need to do so now?”
“I had hoped to keep our meeting more discreet. Now Prince Dolan knows that you’re meeting with a witch, and that could be…inconvenient, let us say, for a man in your position. It changes nothing in regard to your debt, I’m afraid, but for what little it may be worth, I am sorry.”
Maton stroked his chin. “Neither you nor I expected to be interrupted, so I can hardly blame you for this. Still…you think he knows?”
“I am certain of it, though he hid his reaction very well. I think there are depths to Prince Dolan which were not immediately apparent.”
He grunted. “Dolan’s only here because his father wanted a representative at King Elion’s Court—excess princes have their uses—but I’ve learned not to underestimate him. He will ponder the implications of our meeting, I have no doubt, but unless he perceives a danger to his father’s interests, he will keep my secret.”
“I’m glad of that. Your ability to discharge your debt rests at least in part in your position here.”
His smile was grim. “I am very aware of that fact…which brings us back to the matter at hand?”
Marta nodded. “Yes, and I won’t keep you wondering any longer. I need you to arrange for negotiations between Conmyre and a representative of Boranac of the Five Isles.”
“Boranac? That pirate?”
“The same.”
“I hesitate to ask—negotiations for what?”
“Cessation of any and all hostilities, an exchange of ambassadors, trade agreements to be negotiated in good faith later.”
“In short, normal relations…. I was afraid you were going to say that.” Count Maton stroked his chin again. “This will not be easy.”
“Agreed. Yet you and I both know that the Five Isles would have been recognized as a proper kingdom years ago, except it had the—deserved, of course—reputation as nothing more than a secure base for pirates. Boranac wants to change that.”
Maton shook his head. “It’s not that there are no advantages. To be blunt, Conmyre’s own grievances with Boranac are relatively minor, and safe channels for trade along the coast are in everyone’s best interest,” Maton said. “If Boranac is indeed willing to talk, we’d be fools not to listen to what he has to say before matters…escalate, shall we say. The problem is that not everyone agrees, specifically Borasur-Morushe.”
“No one expects them to do so, at least at first, but to be equally blunt, where Conmyre leads, others will follow.”
He sighed. “You don’t understand, Lady Marta—I don’t know what motivates your involvement, but I personally think it’s a splendid idea. The problem, as I mentioned, is Borasur-Morushe. Specifically, Duke Okandis. He’s here, in Amurlee, a guest of the king. The timing could not have been worse.”
“I have heard of him,” Marta said. “He seems to have a personal grudge against Boranac?”
“Seems? If Okandis gets wind of this, he will do everything in his power to thwart it. He’s been attempting to persuade King Elion to add our own ships.”
Marta blinked. “Add your ships? To what?”
“Okandis is assembling an armada under his own authority. He plans to attack the Five Isles and swears he will personally hang Boranac from the yardarm of his own flagship.”
Marta wondered if King Boranac had known about this beforehand. She suspected the answer was “yes” since she was certain that Boranac had not told her everything, but for the matter at hand it didn’t really make a difference.
“On the contrary, then—I’d say my timing was perfect. These negotiations are even more imperative, and the sooner the better.”
“I am sure I can arrange an audience. What I cannot arrange is a successful conclusion, or even guarantee that the king will be amenable. Especially if Duke Okandis gets involved. To have any chance of success at all, we have to make certain that he does not hear of it.”
Marta smiled. “On the contrary—he must hear about it. If necessary, I plan to tell him myself.”
For a moment Count Maton simply stared at Marta as if she’d grown another head, but when he spoke again it was in a calm, measured voice. “May I ask why?”
“So that he may make whatever protests he deems appropriate. Let it not be said that these negotiations were done behind the back of Conmyre’s greatest ally.”
Count Maton sat back in his chair. “Well. This will certainly be interesting. Is there anything else you need of me?”
“Just one more thing, Excellency—can you put me in contact with the late queen’s dressmaker?”
§
Back on the Blue Moon, Marta and Sela met with Callowyn to compare notes, and Okandis’ armada was the first o
rder of business. Marta sent Bonetapper on another errand, which left the three women alone on the ship. Marta got directly to business. She told them what had happened with Count Maton and then she asked the question she’d been waiting to ask.
Callowyn laughed. “Of course Father knew about it. Okandis is about as discreet as a swordfish up the backside,” she said. “Yet Father was trying to open negotiations long before he heard about the good duke’s plans. That particular situation just gave my father more impetus.”
“If Okandis could assemble enough ships….” Sela looked thoughtful, but Callowyn was quick to push Sela’s cart right off the path.
“There’s a reason the Five Isles have managed to remain independent for all these centuries, and since you’ve been there, you should know what it is,” she said.
Sela let out a gusting breath and nodded. “I can’t speak for the rest of them, but the main island is a natural fortress. One could land a force on the spit of land where we came ashore, but then you’ve got to get past high ridges with only one natural pass, easily defended. Two usable harbors, but each nearly encircled by high cliffs and easily blocked and defended. Good supplies of fresh water and food…anyone attacking directly or attempting a siege would have a rough time.”
Callowyn smiled. “I’m glad you were paying attention. Plus you’ve seen Okandis’ galleons, and he can’t put wind whistlers on all of them. Our raiders can run circles around them otherwise, and you’d be hard-pressed to maintain a siege with your supply ships constantly being harrassed. Regardless, Denelos won’t send ships because they don’t have them to spare, and Shalas has its own—albeit informal—arrangements with my Father. No, the only real threat would be if Conmyre joined Okandis’ cause. The Blue Moon herself is just a modified version of an Amurlean warship. They build good vessels and know how to use them. I still believe we could hold them off, but even if we did—“