“Nice place,” said Montigard.
“Indeed,” said Lucan. But despite all its luxury, the Gilded Rose seemed a cheap, tawdry thing. Beneath the perfume, the air reeked of lust and sweat and desperation. What happened here was not as real as what he had shared with Tymaen.
What he would never share with anyone again.
He dismissed the thought and climbed to the corner room of the fourth floor. Two of his brother’s armsmen lounged before the door, passing a jug of wine back and forth. They scrambled to their feet, but Montigard was faster, and had his sword at one man’s throat and his dagger at the second’s in a heartbeat.
“If they try to interfere,” said Lucan, “kill them.”
Montigard nodded. “See, lads? Never drink on the job.”
Lucan took a deep breath, gripped the doorknob, and entered the corner room.
An enormous bed dominated the spacious room. Toraine lay upon the bed, while a pair of undressed young women massaged his feet and rubbed his shoulders.
Apparently, Lucan had arrived early.
The women shrieked, backing away from the ball of blue light in Lucan's hand. Toraine laughed, his lips curved with contemptuous amusement, but his black eyes remained hard.
“Both of you,” said Toraine. “Leave. My brother and I must have words.”
The women wrapped blankets around themselves and fled, leaving Lucan alone with Toraine.
“So,” said Toraine. “Come to join me? It’s well past time. I’ve long said a romp with one of the Gilded Dragon's ladies would do wonders for your disposition. Though I’m not going to share my whore. You can pay for your own.”
“You know why I’m here,” said Lucan.
“Of course I do,” said Toraine. “How long as it been since you had a woman? A year? Was Tymaen the last? I see why your temper is so foul. She’s too skinny and prim for my taste. I suppose she just lay there and scowled…”
“Silence!” snapped Lucan.
Toraine laughed. “Don't bother. I know that little ball of blue light is harmless…”
“This isn’t,” snarled Lucan, and began another spell.
In a flash Toraine was on his feet, sword pointed at Lucan.
“Now, brother?” said Toraine. “Shall we at last settle our differences?”
Lucan throttled back his rage. He wanted to kill Toraine. But Toraine was one of the best swordsmen in the Grim Marches, and Lucan might not be able to work a killing spell before Toraine struck.
And if he died, no one would save Tymaen.
“The Justiciars tried to kill me tonight,” said Lucan.
Toraine’s sword did not move an inch. “You're still alive, so obviously you dealt with them. Why is this my concern? Father rather irritated them. I would be surprised if they didn’t try to take some form of revenge.”
“They knew exactly where to find me,” said Lucan.
Toraine shrugged. “A peril of regular habits.”
“I did not keep to my regular habits,” said Lucan. “Once it became clear that Father intended to let Tymaen die, I decided to save her myself. I went to Alighar’s shop to seek an antidote, and the Justiciars awaited me.”
“Then they followed you,” said Toraine.
“I was not followed,” said Lucan.
For a moment they stared at each other.
At last Toraine sighed. “It seemed a long shot, but I thought perhaps the Justiciars might get lucky.”
“So you told them where I would be,” said Lucan.
“I made a gamble,” said Toraine. “You were so upset about Tymaen, even if she had been married to another man for a year. Any idiot could see that you would try to save her. After Father pissed in the Grand Master’s wine…the idea came to me. So I sent one of my servants to the Justiciars, pretending to be a spy, and the man told the knights you would probably go to Alighar to seek help.” He chuckled. “I didn’t expect the fools to fall for it! I suppose there are three dead Justiciars lying outside of Alighar’s shop?”
“Four,” said Lucan.
Toraine laughed. “Four? You ought to present their heads to Father. He won’t smile, of course, but he might scowl less.”
“The antidote,” said Lucan. “Now.”
Toraine frowned. “Antidote? What antidote?”
“The antidote,” said Lucan, “to the poison you gave Tymaen.”
Toraine’s laughter was incredulous. “You think I poisoned her? Why would I bother?”
“To get at me,” said Lucan. “You told me a fine story, but you couldn’t have pulled it off so quickly. You poisoned Tymaen. You waited until Father angered the Justiciars, and you set them after me. The antidote, brother, now.”
Toraine’s face filled with scorn.
“You,” he said, “are a complete fool.”
Lucan’s certainty wavered.
“Why the devil would I poison the wench?” said Toraine. “She is beneath my notice. And Father…what do you think Father would do if I poisoned Robert’s wife? The games I play with you are one thing. Poisoning the wife of one of Father’s chief vassals is another. Father thinks of us as useful weapons…but he’d kill us both in a heartbeat if we threatened his authority. And killing the wives of his men is a fine way to threaten his authority.”
Toraine had a point.
“Then who poisoned her?” said Lucan.
“I have no idea,” said Toraine.
“You’re lying,” said Lucan.
“Brother,” said Toraine. “You’re a fool…but a clever fool. I don’t know who poisoned your little flower. But I think I know who provided the poison.”
“Who?” said Lucan.
Toraine grinned. “You’re right that I couldn't have arranged that ambush so quickly. Alighar told me a few weeks ago that Tymaen would have a…mishap soon.”
Lucan’s mind whirled. “Alighar? Why?”
Toraine shrugged. “How should I know?”
“You’re lying,” said Lucan.
“I’m not,” said Toraine. “Alighar is useful...but I don’t like him. And if I wanted him dead, brother, I wouldn’t send you after him. I’d simply kill him myself. Father would not care.”
Once again, Toraine had a point.
“What,” said Lucan, “did Alighar tell you?”
“That Lady Tymaen would fall sick and die on this day,” said Toraine. “At first, I couldn’t figure out why he told me. I buy poisons from him occasionally, but surely he couldn’t be stupid enough to tell Toraine the Black Dragon that he planned to murder a noble lady. Then I realized he told me so I could arrange your death.” Again he shrugged. “His audacity amused me, so I played along.”
“You could have stopped this,” said Lucan. “You could have saved Tymaen.”
“Why bother?” said Toraine.
“I’ll kill you for this,” said Lucan.
“You won’t,” said Toraine. “You’ll never kill me.”
“Do you have such trust in your skill with that sword?” said Lucan.
“I do,” said Toraine, “but I trust in something stronger. Your conscience, brother, your tender, trembling conscience. You won’t kill me because you won’t let yourself. All that power you stole from Marstan, and you’ll never use it. If I had that magic, I would have killed both you and Father by now and made myself liege lord of the Grim Marches. Gods, I would subdue the other liege lords and make myself king over the entire realm. You could do that…but you won’t.” He spat at Lucan’s feet. “Because your conscience won’t let you.”
“Thank you so much,” said Lucan. He turned towards the door. “You’ve been remarkably helpful. Enjoy the whores.”
“You're off to kill Alighar?” said Toraine.
“Something like that,” said Lucan.
Toraine frowned. “Why?”
“Why?” said Lucan, incredulous. “He poisoned Tymaen!”
“So what?” said Toraine. “She’s not your wife. She left you for that fat pig Robert because she was as fri
ghtened of your power as you are. Why put yourself at risk to save her?”
“I will not,” said Lucan through gritted teeth, “let her die.”
“Ah.” For a moment something almost like pity flickered in Toraine’s black eyes. “Your precious conscience.” He lay down upon the bed. “Do send the whores back in when you go.”
Lucan left the room without another word.
Montigard stood with his weapons at the throats of Toraine’s armsmen.
“I heard,” said Montigard, “a conspicuous lack of screaming.”
“Let them go,” said Lucan. “Follow me.”
He headed for the street. The bouncer and the other whores hastened to get out of his way, and he ignored them, wrapped in his thoughts. If Toraine was correct, someone had hired Alighar to poison Tymaen. But why? Tymaen had no enemies that Lucan knew about.
So someone had poisoned Tymaen to get at Lucan.
It was the only logical conclusion. But who would go to such trouble?
Lucan stepped into the darkened street, still thinking.
“Where to now, my lord?” said Montigard.
“We,” said Lucan, “are going to wring some answers out of an apothecary.”
“Can’t trust apothecaries,” said Montigard. “Gods only know what they mix up in those elixirs of theirs.”
“Yes,” said Lucan, and walked into the night.
Chapter 6 - You Shouldn't Have Done That
Alighar’s shop remained dark.
"This shouldn't be too much of a challenge," said Montigard. "We kick down the door and beat the truth out of one fat apothecary."
"That fat apothecary is a renegade wizard of middling skill," said Lucan.
Montigard grunted. "A bit more challenging. But wizards are like any other men. Hit them hard enough and they'll listen to reason."
Lucan muttered the spell to sense the presence of magic. "And he's been busy in the last hour."
When Lucan had left, there had been no active spells in Alighar's shop. Now he sensed several active spells, their power pulsing like the heat from a fireplace. And at least one of the spells was more powerful than Lucan would have expected.
“He knows the Justiciars didn’t kill me,” said Lucan. “Or he thinks they might have failed, and has prepared just in case I come back to kill him.”
Montigard shrugged. “Then we kick down the door and kill him before he works any spells.”
“No,” said Lucan. “I need him alive.” He could, if necessary, kill Alighar and summon his shade for interrogation. But that was unreliable and time-consuming, and Tymaen had less than a day left.
He had to act now, and he needed Alighar alive.
“I’ll deal with Alighar,” said Lucan. “You handle anything else. He might have hired thugs or have some other trick up his sleeve. Keep them off me.”
Montigard nodded. “I need you alive to pay me.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Lucan.
He cast a quick series of spells. One was a ward to turn aside steel weapons, the same he had used against the Justiciars. The second was a spell to blunt the force of any magical attack. A skilled enough wizard could hammer through it, but Lucan doubted Alighar had that kind of power.
The final spell sensed the presence of magic, and Lucan swept it over the shop's walls and door.
No wards. Alighar intended to make his stand inside.
“Let’s go,” said Lucan.
He pushed the door open, hand raised for a spell.
The shop was deserted.
Lucan looked around in surprise. The iron stove still radiated its sullen glow, glinting off the rows of glass jars. Had Alighar abandoned his shop?
No. The trapdoor behind the worktable. He had merely retreated to the cellar.
Lucan raised a finger to his lips for silence, and leaned close to Montigard.
“He’s waiting for us in the cellar,” whispered Lucan.
“Bad business,” whispered Montigard. “He’ll shoot us as we go down the ladder.”
“I’ll distract him,” said Lucan. “Follow me.”
Montigard nodded and set himself.
Lucan took a deep breath. Then he summoned magic, as much as he could muster, and unleashed a spell at the trapdoor.
It exploded downward with a flash of dazzling light, revealing a wooden ladder. Chunks of burning wood rained against the earthen floor, and Lucan heard Alighar shout a curse.
Lucan jumped down the ladder, his legs flexing beneath him, and landed in the cellar. It was larger than the shop above, with thick wooden pillars supporting the plank ceiling. Alighar stood against the far wall, terror on his face. A ring of glowing symbols had been drawn on the floor around him, a circle of warding and protection.
But protection against what?
“Kill him!” shouted Alighar as Montigard landed next to Lucan.
Dark shapes moved in the shadows, and misshapen spirit-creatures skulked into the light. They looked a bit like translucent gray wolves, albeit wolves with a row of bony spines jutting from their backs and joints. They opened their mouths to growl, and Lucan saw hissing serpents instead of tongues.
Alighar had been practicing his summoning spells.
“Defend yourself!” shouted Lucan.
The spirit-beasts rushed him, and Lucan worked the spell to banish them from the mortal world. A pulse of blue light struck the wolves. For an instant they grew more translucent, but Alighar had invested too much power into the summoning, and Lucan lacked the strength to banish all of them at once.
“Kill him!” said Alighar. “I command it!”
The wolves hissed, recovering from Lucan's spell.
Lucan gestured, and a halo of blue light flared around Montigard’s sword.
“Your blade will harm them!” said Lucan. “Strike!”
The wolves charged, and Lucan flung out his hands, unleashing a burst of psychokinetic force. The creatures went sprawling across the dirt floor, and Montigard struck with deadly speed, dispatching two of them. Lucan focused his will and power upon another, and it dissolved into gray smoke, banished back to the spirit realm.
But more of the beasts charged from the shadows. Montigard danced through them, his blade whirling in a glowing blue arc. Alighar snarled and threw a blast of invisible force at Lucan. He staggered, but his ward turned aside the spell, and Lucan responded with a blast of his own. The ring of sigils around Alighar’s feet flared and dispelled the attack.
Brute force would not succeed here. Lucan could not hammer down Alighar’s protections, not while the wolves distracted him. But controlling so many creatures at once had to strain Alighar’s power to the limit…
An idea came to Lucan, and he began another spell.
Montigard backed towards the wall, trying to keep the wolves at bay. “My lord Lucan! Some aid would be useful!”
Alighar laughed, sweat pouring down his face. “After my pets feast on your flesh, perhaps I’ll grind your bones and sell them in my medicines!”
Lucan finished his spell and reached out with his magical senses. He sensed the spell Alighar used to control the wolves. It was crude, almost simplistic...
And it was so easy for Lucan to twist the spell and take control of it.
The sigils at Alighar’s feet flared and went out.
Alighar’s eyes bulged in horror, and he turned to run. But the wolves were far faster. At Lucan's mental command they raced across the cellar and slammed into the apothecary. Alighar went down beneath their weight, shrieking in terror. The wolves pinned his arms and legs in place, and one settled upon his back, jaws wrapped around his throat…but the beasts did not draw blood.
Not yet.
Alighar stopped screaming and looked at Lucan, eyes filled with terror.
“That’s twice,” said Lucan, “that you’ve tried to kill me today.”
Montigard crossed to Lucan’s side, keeping a wary eye on the wolves.
“It was a mistake!” said Alighar. “I knew
I had to defend myself! I…I didn’t try to kill you, I swear it…”
“I had,” said Lucan, “a interesting conversation with my brother before I came here.”
Alighar shuddered.
“It seems,” said Lucan, “that you knew I would come to your shop. And all men know that the Dragon’s Shadow and the Black Dragon despise each other. So you told Toraine in hopes that he would kill me.”
“I don’t know,” said Alighar, “I’ve never spoken with Lord Toraine, I swear it…”
“For an apothecary,” said Montigard, “he lies very badly.”
Lucan sighed. “Tell me the truth, Alighar. Or else I’ll tell your pets to start biting things off. And they won’t start with your fingers.”
“Yes!” said Alighar. “I spoke to your brother. I told him you would probably come alone to my shop. I hoped he would kill you and rid me of you!”
“A bad plan,” said Lucan. “Still, I’m used to people trying to kill me by now.” His voice hardened. “But you knew Tymaen would fall sick. Didn’t you?”
Alighar said nothing, his lips trembling.
“Didn’t you?” shouted Lucan.
“Yes,” hissed Alighar. “Yes, I did.”
“You poisoned her?” said Lucan.
Alighar closed his eyes. “Yes.”
Lucan almost commanded the wolves to tear him apart.
No. He needed more information.
“Who hired you to do it?” said Lucan.
A ghastly grin spread over Alighar’s face.
“Marstan,” he whispered.
For a moment Lucan was so shocked he could not speak.
“Marstan?” he said. “Marstan is dead. I killed him myself. I saw him die.” A flash of terror went through him, and for an instant he expected to see his old teacher in the shadows. Lucan forced the thought aside. Marstan had planned to live forever…but he was dead. Lucan had seen to that himself.
“You’re lying,” he said. “Marstan’s dead.”
“Of course he's dead,” said Alighar. “But he hired me to poison Tymaen before you killed him.”
The Dragon's Shadow Page 4
