by J B Drake
Staring at his wife, Tirelin wanted to remind her he had indeed told her, many a time, when he’d sought her counsel on the matter, but each time she’d shown no interest, choosing instead to grieve for their sons. Except, as he stared at her, he feared the pain his words would bring her, so instead he chose a different response.
“Forgive me.”
Netari shrugged. “Why invite him?”
“For his agents in the Tower.”
Netari’s frown deepened. “But we have Thuridan. And the new girl. Are they not enough?”
Tirelin shook his head. “Too many people know about us and Thuridan. If we were to use him, I can’t see how we would stop the finger of blame eventually pointing to us. And as for the new girl, she’s precisely that. New. I’d rather not bring her into something this delicate before she’s proven her loyalty. And besides, it’s not like Gladespell would betray us to the king, you have too much on his son.”
Netari stared at her beloved husband in silence for a spell. It was clear she wished to argue this further, but it was also clear Tirelin’s words rang true.
At last, she smiled. “I do, don’t I?”
Tirelin smiled in response.
Then, Netari sighed. “So, what did Gladespell say?”
Tirelin’s smile faded. “Lord Gladespell, in his infinite wisdom, declared that to do anything against those two would be akin to going against the king’s wishes.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. Our dear Lord Gladespell felt it pertinent to remind us all of how much the king values his accord with the Tower, and how any acts by any of his subjects that puts said accord in jeopardy would earn his displeasure.”
“What utter rot!” Netari exclaimed. “The king couldn’t care less what we did so long as the Tower had no proof of our involvement.”
“I know, but it was just the sort of excuse the others were looking for, and they jumped at it. With glee.”
“Dear gods…”
“I know.”
“That incontinent old bastard!” she spat as she leant back into the bath once more. “To think, I almost married his son!”
Tirelin smiled, but it was fleeting. His ire had returned, and it burned bright within him.
“Wait,” Netari continued as she sat up once more, “even Nerrick?”
Tirelin nodded, an act that made Netari’s jaw drop.
“Even after all we did for that useless son of his?” she exclaimed.
Tirelin shook his head. “That’s not the worst of it.”
Netari cast a sideways glance at her beloved. “What do you mean?”
“When Gladespell finished speaking, Nerrick rose and preached calm to me, said he’d be just as thirsty for vengeance had it been Eldred, but that this path of ours would lead to ruin.”
“He what?” Netari whispered.
Shaking his head, Tirelin sighed. “Had it been anyone else…” Then, he looked at his beloved. “After that, the others didn’t hesitate to abandon us.”
With a deep frown, Netari rested back in the bath once more, her eyes skywards as she pondered her husband’s words.
“You should’ve killed him, Tirelin,” she said at last, her voice calm, even.
Tirelin nodded as a sad smile parted his lips. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“No,” Netari replied, lowering her gaze to her husband once more. “You’re a far better swordsman than he is. You should’ve killed him the moment he spoke. With his blood on your blade, the others would’ve understood the depth of your resolve, and wouldn’t have dared cross you.”
“No,” Tirelin replied, shaking his head.
Netari frowned. “Don’t tell me you still feel some sense of friendship towards him after this.”
“Of course not!”
“Then, why say no?”
“Gladespell.”
Netari scoffed as this, and again, Tirelin shook his head.
“Killing Nerrick in front of them all would’ve given that old fool too good a reason to tempt them away from us.”
“But they pity you, Tirelin, they think you’re weak. Surely that’s a worse state to be in.”
“It is not ideal, I grant you that, but at least now, we don’t have to watch our backs.”
Netari’s frown deepened. “But they no longer respect you. They no longer fear us.”
Tirelin’s gaze darkened greatly at this. “Which is why I shall destroy Nerrick. I shall see both him and Gladespell in ruins before this is over.”
Netari stared at her husband for a spell, her brow furrowed, but at last nodded slowly. “That would work better for us in the long run.”
Tirelin nodded. “Yes, it would.”
“Though I suppose it was folly to expect Gladespell’s aid,” Netari continued. “He clearly still blames you for the king awarding you Tellun over his son.”
Tirelin shook his head. “We had to, he’s the only one with agents deep enough within the Tower to get this done.”
“But where does this leave us?” Netari asked, a worried frown upon her lips.
Tirelin sighed as he stared into the ether. “I still have one option open to me. It means relying on those we’ve never used before, and that is a risk I am loathed to accept, but…”
Netari smiled. “You truly don’t want to use the new girl, do you?”
Tirelin shook his head as he turned his gaze to his beloved. “Not for something like this. If I must use people I haven’t used before, I’d rather it were people I have something tangible on.”
Shaking her head, Netari’s smile widened, but soon faded to nothing. “Will it work, though?”
Tirelin nodded. “I’ll make it work. Our sons will be avenged, Netari, I’ll make it work.”
Netari smiled. “I know you will.”
Tirelin smiled back before rising. “I’d best go see to a meal for us.”
“No,” Netari said, barring her husband’s path with an outstretched leg. “Stay, talk with me.”
“About what?” Tirelin asked, frowning.
“Anything. We haven’t done this in an age.”
With a slow grin, Tirelin sat back down and did as he was bid.
*****
Licking the honey from her fingers, Maline made her way down the street as she hurried back to Mardaley’s Glorious Emporium. With a wide grin, she swung the large basket by her side as she went. It had taken her an eternity to pry from Mardaley’s lips his favourite delicacy, and longer still to convince him to share with her how best to prepare it. But she had, and not only that, she had prepared it precisely as Mardaley had described. And now, with the dish carefully tucked away in the basket in her hand, she couldn’t wait to surprise him with it. Ever since that night, on top of those cold steps, when he’d shown her a kindness she’d all but forgotten existed, she’d search for a way to thank him. And now, finally, she would do just that.
As she hurried back, however, so intent was she in her preparations that she didn’t notice the dishevelled vagrant hurrying after her. And oblivious she remained until he reached her, his hand grasping her arm, eliciting a yelp from her as she spun round to face him.
Unfortunately, Maline was one who it was truly ill-advised to startle or sneak up upon, and as she spun, she swung a foot between the vagrant’s legs, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crumpling to the floor. And as he fell, Maline steadied herself for one more kick before sprinting away.
“Wait, wait!” the vagrant begged just as Maline was about to swing. At his words, she stopped cold.
“Fargus?” she exclaimed, staring at the cowering vagabond.
Massaging his nether-regions, Fargus staggered to his feet.
“Yeah,” he replied, his breath bathing Maline’s nostrils in an acrid wave of cheap drink and putrid meat.
Gagging, she took a step back as she fanned her face.
“Where you been this time?” she demanded. “You been gone forever!”
As she spoke, however, Fargus st
ared deep into her eyes. His gaze carried a message she’d long forgotten, and as Fargus stared about them, a familiar ball began forming within the pit of her stomach, one that grew as Fargus stared back at her, and one that grew still as Fargus straightened and closed the distance between them. As he neared, Maline began to back away from him.
“Look, Fargus,” she stammered. “Didn’t know it was you, alright? Didn’t mean to hit you like that, alright?”
Fargus’s smile remained, as if sewn upon his lips. It was a smile that barely hid a sneer. His gait continued unabated.
“Should be more careful with that leg, Maline,” he replied. “Keep telling you, but you never listen, you never, ever listen.”
“Wait, Fargus, please,” Maline pleaded as she backed away from him still.
At last, he reached her, and taking a deep breath, he sighed as he caressed her cheek. Staring at her old beloved, Maline dared to hope he would spare her this once, but as she closed her eyes to savour his caress, Fargus crashed a fist into her jaw before smashing the back of his hand against her other cheek. Sighing once more, the smirking vagrant watched as Maline fell backwards, the basket falling from her hand as she fell.
Shaking his head, Fargus went into a crouch.
“Why you keep making me hurt you like this?” he asked.
With a hand on her throbbing jaw, Maline stared at him as she fought back the tears.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Sorry,” she repeated a bit louder, the tears finally falling.
Smiling, Fargus nodded. “You forgiven.”
Blinking away the tears, Maline rose to her knees as she shifted her gaze to the basket. By some miracle, it had landed upright.
“Mmh, smells good!” Fargus exclaimed as he reached for the basket.
“No, please,” Maline begged, grasping for the basket.
In response, Fargus glowered at her, stopping her cold, before dragging the basket towards him. Then, he smiled once more.
“You been cooking! You cook good, Maline, real good! Got to be the only good thing left about you now.”
“Please, Fargus,” Maline pleaded. “They for someone else.”
Fargus stopped and looked up slowly at her. “You got someone else?”
Maline moved to speak, but no words came.
“Forgotten how ungrateful you is, Maline, and after looking all over for you, trying to save you.”
Maline frowned. “Save me?”
“Oh, now you care! You know, maybe you not worth saving, maybe—”
“I shall give you this one chance,” a voice called out from behind Fargus, the authority within it silencing him in an instant. “Step away from Maline. Now.”
Looking up, Maline grinned as her eyes fell upon Baern’s fierce visage. But as she stared, her elation soon turned to fear. Baern was going to hurt Fargus, and hurt him badly.
“Wait, Baern,” Maline said as she scrambled to her feet. “He didn’t mean it. It’s okay now.”
But Baern ignored her, his gaze fixed upon Fargus.
“Baern, no,” Maline pleaded, “it’s—”
“It’s not alright, Maline,” Baern growled. “What he did is never acceptable.”
Through it all, Fargus stared at the basket, his right hand having found its way into his pocket.
“Well?” Baern barked after a brief moment’s silence. At last, Fargus rose, spinning on his heels to glare at the incensed mage.
“Baern, yeah?”
Baern’s brow furrowed deeper in response.
Smiling, Fargus shook his head, his right hand still in his pocket. “Look, old man, Maline and me, we go back a ways. Don’t know what you thinking, but you and she, that’s nothing, it’s over. Maline and me together again, so why don’t you go find some other whore to call your own, eh?”
Gritting his teeth, Baern took a step forward.
“Or want me come see you later,” Fargus continued. “In your house. While you sleeping.”
Cocking his head to the side, Baern smirked. “Is that what the knife is for?”
“What?” Maline exclaimed as she looked down at Fargus’s hidden hand. But Fargus merely glowered at Baern as he tightened his grip on the hidden blade.
Now it was Baern’s turn to smile, though it was smile that made even Fargus ill at ease.
“Now, you listen to me, you worthless waste of existence, if I so much as think I suspect I see you anywhere near me or mine, I shall find you, and I shall make you burn…”
“Baern, no,” Maline pleaded.
“…or perhaps I shall just boil your blood as it runs through your veins,” Baern continued, oblivious to Maline’s cries. “The possibilities are endless, my friend, for I know a great many spells, spells to inflict pain and suffering the likes of which scum like you can scarce imagine.”
“Baern, wait—” Maline begged, her desperation and frustration now as one.
“And as for you visiting me in my home, that you think a putrid fool like you could ever come close to my home speaks volumes of your stupidity. But I do so hope you will try, I truly do. Now, are you going to use that toothpick in your pocket or not?”
Fargus stood where he was, staring at Baern. He moved not one inch.
“Leave. I will not warn you again.”
Finding his feet, Fargus looked at Maline.
“Let’s go.”
“She stays,” Baern growled before Maline could draw breath. As one, both stared at Baern.
“Well?” Baern barked.
Fargus glared at Baern a spell before turning to Maline once more.
“Will see you later,” he said.
“You will do no such thing,” Baern replied.
“Or else what?” Fargus growled as he turned to glare at Baern once more, but as he turned, his eyes went wide as Baern placed a heavy hand upon his shoulder. Both men stood stock-still, but while Baern stood tall, smirking, Fargus began to cower, and once Baern lifted his hand from the vagabond’s shoulder, the man called Fargus crumpled to his knees, staring wide-eyed into the ether as a violent spasm gripped him.
“Or else that,” Baern muttered as he stepped round Fargus to pick up Maline’s basket.
“What you do?” Maline asked as she looked from a convulsing Fargus to Baern.
“Nothing permanent. Mardaley’s waiting.”
“Baern, what you do?”
“I told you, nothing permanent. Come, peace keepers are beginning to stare.”
Maline stared once more at Fargus, but as Baern pulled her by the elbow, she allowed herself to be dragged away from him, until at last she herself turned her back to Fargus.
They walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity, both staring forward as they walked. But the silence was not to last.
“Who was he?” Baern asked.
Maline sighed. “He and me, we used to be together.”
Baern raised an eyebrow, his gaze still forward. “To hear him talk, you’d think you both still are.”
Maline shrugged as she turned to stare at Baern. “Still care for him.”
“Even though he struck you and intended to rob you?”
Maline shrugged once more, then turned her gaze forward as the silence returned.
“Don’t tell Marsha, okay?” Maline said, chasing away the silence once more.
“She knows this fellow?”
Maline nodded. “She hates him.”
Baern moved to speak, but instead sighed. Shaking his head, he stopped and turned to stare at Maline square.
“Hold still,” he said softly as he touched the bruises on her face. As he touched each, he whispered words Maline knew not, words that faded the bruises as if blown away by a calming wind, its breeze soothing her skin as it took her pain away.
Maline smiled at Baern as he whispered, a smile filled with gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said as he finished.
Scoffing, Baern handed her her
basket. “Now, let’s hurry before Mardaley starts to worry about you.”
Grinning, Maline nodded, and as one, both hurried on until at last, Baern was opening the door to Mardaley’s Glorious Emporium for Maline.
“Oh, hello, you two,” said Mardaley as Maline entered.
“Mardaley, look who I bumped into on my way here.”
Mardaley grinned. “This is the fifth time you’ve shown up just as we’re preparing for our noon meal. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing this on purpose.”
Baern stared, taken aback as Maline stopped to stare at Baern, surprised.
“Oh yeah,” she noted.
“Now, hold just a moment, you two. You have my word, this is all just happy coincidence.”
“Mhm,” Mardaley replied as Maline made her way to the table behind him, her smile now a grin.
“But, I am here now,” the Magister continued, “so…”
Sighing, Mardaley turned to Maline.
“Made extra,” she replied as she set the table.
Mardaley turned back to Baern.
“Oh, come on, then,” he muttered
“Splendid!” the grinning mage exclaimed, and together, both men hurried set the table for Maline. For a time, none spoke until Maline placed a large bowl at the centre of the table and opened it.
“Wait,” Baern said as he stared at the bowl. “Is that…?”
But Mardaley merely stared at Maline. It was a gaze sweeter than Maline had hoped for.
“You like, then?” she grinned.
Shaking his head, Mardaley grinned as he sat, grabbing the serving spoon as he did so.
“I should’ve known that was why you were asking me all those questions,” he continued as he piled his plate high. “And I suppose you not feeling too well this morning, that wasn’t quite true?”
Smiling still, Maline shrugged.
“Women,” Mardaley sighed as he handed Baern the serving spoon, and before long, both men fell silent once more as they worked their way through their servings. It was enough to fill Maline with pride.
After a while, Baern sighed before smacking his lips. Then, his mood darkened as he cast furtive glances at his friend.
“A messenger came yesterday,” he said at last, “from the highland elves. They’re requesting the Tower’s presence in their court. It seems they are in need of some arbitration.”
