Waylander III: Hero In The Shadows ds-9

by David A. Gemmell

  'Is he evil?'

  'All men carry evil within them, Matze Chai. The question is imprecise.'

  'What, then, can you tell me of him?'

  'He will never be content, for his deepest desire is unattainable. Yet he will become rich, and make you rich. Is that enough for you, merchant?'

  'What is this unattainable desire?'

  'Deep in his heart, far below the level of conscious thought, he is desperate to save his family from terror and death. This unconscious desire drives him on, forces him to seek out danger, to pit himself against the might of violent men.'

  'Why is it unattainable?'

  'His family are already dead, slain in a mindless orgy of lust and depravity.'

  'Surely,' said Matze Chai, 'he knows they are dead.'

  'Of course. As I said, it is an unconscious desire. A part of his soul has never accepted that he was too late to save them.'

  'But he will make me rich?'

  'Oh, yes, Matze Chai, he will make you richer than you could ever dream possible. Be sure, however, that you recognize the riches when you have them.'

  'I am sure that I will.'

  The stooping servant, Omri, was waiting in the corridor outside Matze Chai's apartments. As Waylander stepped out he bowed briefly. 'Lord Aric is waiting to see you, sir, along with the magicker, Eldicar Manushan,' he said. 'I have had refreshments served to them in the Oak Room.'

  'I was expecting him,' said Waylander, his expression cold.

  'I must say that he looks well. I believe he has dyed his hair.'

  Together the two men walked back along the corridor, and up two sets of stairs. 'The bodies have been removed, sir. Emrin had them loaded on to a wagon and has driven it into Carlis. He will make a report to the watch officer, but I expect there will be an official inquiry. The incident, I should imagine, is the talk of Carlis. One of the young men was due to be wed next week. You even received an invitation to the ceremony.'

  'I know. He and I spoke of it last night, but he was in no mood to listen.'

  'A shocking incident,' said Omri. 'Why did they do it? What did they have to gain?'

  'They had nothing to gain. They were sent by Vanis.'

  'That is disgraceful,' said Omri. 'We must inform the watch officer. You should lay charges against him.'

  'That will not be necessary,' said Waylander. 'I do not doubt that Lord Aric has a plan to resolve the situation.'

  'Ah, I see. A plan that no doubt involves money.'

  'No doubt.'

  They moved on in silence, emerging into a wide, arched hallway on the upper floor.

  As they reached the doors of carved oak Omri stepped back. 'I have to say, sir,' he said, in a low voice, 'that I am not comfortable in the presence of this magicker. There is something about the man that I find disturbing.'

  'You are a good judge of character, Omri. I shall bear that in mind.'

  Waylander pushed open the doors and entered the Oak Room.

  The room, panelled with oak, had been designed in the shape of an octagon. Rare weapons from many nations hung on the walls, a battleaxe and several hunting bows from Vagria, spears and curved scimitars from Ventria. Angostin broadswords, daggers and shields vied with tulwars, lances, pikes and several embossed crossbows. Four armour trees had been placed around the room, boasting ornate helms, breastplates and shields. The furniture consisted of twelve deep chairs and three cushion-covered couches, set upon a scattering of Chiatze rugs of hand-dyed silk. The room was lit by sunlight streaming through the high-arched, east-facing windows.

  Lord Aric was seated on a couch below the window, his booted feet resting on a low table. Opposite him was the magicker, Eldicar Manushan, his blond page standing beside him. Neither man rose as Waylander entered, but Aric waved his hand and gave a broad smile. 'Good morning, my friend,' he called. 'I am so glad you could find time to join us.'

  'You are up early, Lord Aric,' said Waylander. 'I have always been led to believe it was considered uncivilized for a noble to rise before noon – unless a hunt was in the offing.'

  'Indeed so,' agreed Aric, 'but, then, we have pressing matters to discuss.'

  Waylander sat down and stretched out his legs. The door opened and Omri entered, bearing a tray on which was set a large silver pot of tisane and three cups. The men sat in silence as he filled the cups then departed. Waylander sipped the brew. It was camomile sweetened with mint and a little honey. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste upon his tongue. Then he glanced at Aric. The slim noble was doing his best to appear at ease, but there was an underlying tension in him. Transferring his gaze to the black-bearded magicker, Waylander saw no sign of unease. Eldicar Manushan was drinking his tisane quietly, apparently lost in thought. Waylander caught the eye of the little blond boy, who smiled nervously.

  The silence grew, and Waylander made no attempt to disturb it.

  'Last night was most unfortunate,' said Aric at last. 'The two boys were well liked and neither of them had ever been in any kind of trouble.'

  Waylander waited.

  'Parellis – the blond boy – is … was a second cousin to the Duke. In fact, I understand that the Duke had agreed to stand alongside Parellis at his wedding. It is one of the reasons the Duke decided to bring the Winter Court to Carlis. You see the complications that are beginning to arise.'

  'No,' said Waylander.

  Aric seemed momentarily bewildered. Then he forced a smile. 'You have killed a relative of the ruler of Kydor.'

  'I killed two assassins. Is this against the law in Carlis?'

  'No, of course not, my friend. As to the first killing there were hundreds of witnesses. No problems there. But the second. . . . Well,' he said, spreading his hands, 'no one saw that. It is my understanding that there was only one weapon – a ceremonial sword belonging to Parellis. This would indicate you dispossessed him of that weapon and killed him with it. That being so, it could be argued that you killed an unarmed man, which, according to the law, is murder.'

  'Well,' said Waylander easily, 'the inquiry will establish the facts then make a judgement. I will abide by that.'

  'Would that it were so easy,' said Aric. 'The Duke is not a forgiving man. Had both boys been killed in the ballroom I think even he would have been forced to accept the outcome. But I fear that the relatives of Parellis will seek to have you arrested.'

  Waylander gave a thin smile. 'Unless?'

  'Ah, well, this is where I can help, my dear friend. As one of the leading nobles in House Kilraith, and the chief magistrate of Carlis, I can mediate between the factions. I would suggest some reparation to the bereaved family – merely as a gesture of regret over the incident. Say . . . twenty thousand gold crowns to the mother of the boys, and the cancelling of the debts owed by their uncle, the grieving Vanis. In this way the matter will be solved before the arrival of the Duke.'

  'It touches me that you would go to such lengths on my behalf,' said Waylander. 'I am most grateful.'

  'Oh, think nothing of it! It is what friends are for.'

  'Indeed. Well, let us make it thirty thousand gold crowns for the mother. I understand she has two other younger sons and that the family is not as wealthy as once they were.'

  'And Vanis?'

  'By all means let the debt be cancelled,' said Waylander. 'It was a piffling sum.' He rose and gave a bow to Aric. 'And now, my friend, you must excuse me. Much as I enjoy your company I have other pressing matters of my own to attend.'

  'Of course, of course,' said Aric, rising from his seat and offering his hand. Waylander shook it, nodded to the magicker, then left the room.

  As the door closed Aric's smile vanished. 'Well, that was simply done,' he said coldly.

  'You would have preferred it to be difficult?' asked Eldicar Manushan softly.

  'I would have preferred to see him squirm a little. There is nothing quite so stomach-churning as a peasant with wealth. It offends me that I am forced to deal with him. In the old days he would have been dispossessed by hi
s betters, his wealth used by those who understood the nature of power and its uses.'

  'I can see how much it must grieve you,' said the magicker, 'to come to this man and beg for scraps from his table.'

  All colour drained from Aric's thin face. 'How dare you?'

  Eldicar laughed. 'Come, come, my friend, what else can it be called? Each year for the past five years this rich peasant has paid your gambling debts, the mortgage on your two estates, settled your tailor's accounts and enabled you to live in the style and manner of a noble. Did he do this of his own volition? Did he come running to your house and say, "My dear Aric, I have heard how fortune has fled you, so please allow me to pay all your debts?" No, he did not. You came to him.'

  'I leased him land!' stormed Aric. 'It was a business arrangement.'

  'Aye, business. And all the monies you have received since then? Including the five thousand crowns you requested last night?'

  'This is intolerable! Beware, Eldicar, my patience is not limitless.'

  'Neither is mine,' said Eldicar, his voice suddenly sibilant. 'Shall I ask for the return of the gift I gave you?'

  Aric blinked. His mouth opened. He sat down heavily. 'Oh, come now, Eldicar, there is no need for us to argue. I intended no disrespect.'

  The magicker leant forward. 'Then remember this, Aric. You are mine. Mine to use, mine to reward, and mine to dispose of if I see fit. Tell me that you understand this.'

  'I do. I do understand. I am sorry.'

  'That is good. Now, tell me what you observed during our meeting with the Grey Man.'

  'Observed? What was there to observe? He came in, agreed to all my demands and left.'

  'He did not just agree,' said Eldicar. 'He raised the sum.'

  'I know that. The size of his fortune is a matter of legend. Money means little to him, obviously.'

  'Do not underestimate this man,' said Eldicar.

  'I do not understand that. I just plucked him like a chicken – and he offered no resistance.'

  'The game is not over yet. You have just seen a man who can mask his anger brilliantly. His only slip was to show his contempt by raising the amount of the extortion. This Grey Man is formidable, and I am not yet ready to have him as an enemy. So when this game moves on you will take no action.'

  'Moves on?'

  Eldicar Manushan gave a small smile. 'Soon you will come to me with news and we will speak of it again.' Eldicar pushed himself to his feet. 'But for now I wish to explore this palace. I like it. It will suit me well.' Rising from his chair he reached out, took the hand of his page, and walked from the room.

  There were those who believed fat Vanis the merchant was incapable of regret. Always jovial, he would talk often of the stupidity of those who insisted on reliving past mistakes; of worrying over them and examining them from every angle. 'You cannot change the past,' he would say. 'Learn from your mistakes and move on.'

  And yet Vanis was forced to admit to himself a tiny feeling of regret – even sadness – at the death of his two stupid nephews. This was, of course, assuaged by the news from Aric that all debts had been cancelled and that an extra fortune in gold would soon be in the hands of his sister, Parla. The money would be passed immediately to Vanis for investment, since Parla was even less intelligent than her departed children.

  Thoughts of the gold, and what he would do with it, filled his mind, submerging the hint of sadness beneath a cascade of anticipated pleasures. Perhaps now he would be able to interest the courtesan Lalitia. For some reason she had rebuffed all his advances.

  Vanis heaved his considerable bulk from the couch and wandered to the window, gazing down at the guards patrolling the walled perimeter of his house. Pushing open the window he stepped out on to the balcony. The stars were bright in a clear sky, and a three-quarter moon hung just above the tree tops. It was a fine night, warm yet not cloying. Two guard dogs loped across the paved entrance path, disappearing into the undergrowth. Ferocious creatures, they made him shiver, and he hoped all the downstairs doors were locked. He had no wish to find one of the beasts padding along his corridors during the night.

  The iron gates to his home were chained shut and Vanis relaxed a little.

  Despite his own philosophy he found himself thinking back over the mistakes of the past months. He had taken the Grey Man lightly, believing he would not dare to push the matter of the debts. After all, Vanis was highly connected within House Kilraith, and the Grey Man – being a foreigner – needed all the friends he could find in order to operate his business interests in Carlis. The miscalculation had proved costly. Vanis should have guessed that matters would not be so easily resolved when the debts had been lodged with the Merchants Guild, the promises of repayment written down and witnessed.

  He moved back inside and poured himself a cup of Lentrian Fire, an amber spirit he had found to be more potent than the finest wines.

  It was not his fault that the boys were dead. Had the Grey Man not threatened to ruin him none of this would have happened. His was the blame.

  Vanis had another drink and walked across to the western window. From here he could see the distant palace of the Grey Man across the bay, shining white in the moonlight. Once more he moved out on to the balcony, checking on the guards. A blond crossbowman was sitting on the lower branches of an oak, his eyes trained on the garden wall. Below him two more guards were patrolling, and Vanis saw one of the black hunting dogs padding across the open ground. The merchant moved back inside and sank into a deep leather seat alongside the flask of Lentrian Fire.

  Aric had laughed at Vanis's insistence on hiring bodyguards. 'He is a merchant like you, Vanis. You think he would risk himself by hiring killers to hunt you down? If any were captured – and named him – he would lose everything. We'd have his palace and whatever of his fortune rests hidden in the palace vaults. By Heaven, it is almost worth hoping that he does send assassins.'

  'Easy for you to say, Aric. Did you hear about his hunting down of the raiders who attacked his lands? Thirty of them, it is said. And he killed them all.'

  'Nonsense,' sneered Aric. 'There were around a dozen, and I don't doubt that the Grey Man had most of his guards with him. It is just a lie put about to enhance the Grey Man's reputation.'

  'A lie, eh? I suppose it was a lie that he killed Jorna with a single blow to the neck and then slew Parellis with his own sword. As I understand it, he did not even break sweat.'

  'Two stupid boys,' said Aric. 'Gods, man, I could have done the same. What possessed you to use such simpletons?'

  'It was an error,' said Vanis. 'I thought they were planning to surprise him in the grounds of his palace. I did not expect them to make the attempt at a ball in front of a hundred witnesses!'

  'Ah, well, it is over now,' said Aric smoothly. The Grey Man gave in without a struggle. Not even a raised word. Have you thought what you will do with Parla's fifteen thousand?'

  'Thirty thousand,' corrected Vanis.

  'Minus my commission, of course,' said Aric.

  'There are those who might feel that your commission is a little excessive, my friend,' said Vanis, struggling to control his anger.

  Aric laughed. 'There are also those who believe that, as chief magistrate of Carlis, I should be investigating what caused those two hitherto exemplary boys to commit such a deed. Are you one of those?'

  'You have made your point,' muttered Vanis. 'Fifteen thousand it is.'

  Even now, some hours later, the conversation left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Vanis finished a third cup of Lentrian Fire, and heaved himself once more to his feet. Moving somewhat unsteadily across the room, he pulled open the door and staggered to his bedchamber. The satin sheets on his bed had been pulled back and Vanis peeled off his robe and slippers and sat down heavily, his head spinning. He fell back on to the pillow and yawned.

  A shadowy figure moved to the bedside. 'Your nephews are waiting for you,' said a soft voice.

  Three hours after dawn a servant brought a
tray of fresh-baked bread and soft cheese to the bedroom of the merchant Vanis. There was no reply to his gentle tapping, and he knocked louder. Thinking his master in a deep sleep the servant returned to the kitchens. Half an hour later he tried again. The door was still locked, and no sound came from inside.

  He reported this to the head manservant, who, with a duplicate key, opened the door.

  The merchant Vanis was lying back on blood-drenched sheets, his throat cut, a small, curved knife held in his right hand.

  Within the hour the chief magistrate, Lord Aric, was at the property, along with the dark-bearded Eldicar Manushan, two officers of the watch and a young surgeon. The magicker ordered the little page-boy, dressed now in a tunic of black velvet, to wait outside the door. 'Not a scene to be witnessed by a child,' Eldicar told him. The boy nodded and stood outside with his back to the wall.

  'It seems fairly obvious,' said the surgeon, stepping back from the body. 'He cut his own throat and died within a few heartbeats. The knife, as you can see, is very sharp. There is only the one cut – a deep slash that opened the jugular.'

  'Strange that he removed his robe first, don't you think?' offered Eldicar Manushan, pointing to the garment on the floor by the bed.

  'Why strange?' asked Aric. 'He was getting into bed.'

  'To die,' said the magicker. 'Not to sleep. This means he knew his body would be found. Let us face it, gentlemen, Vanis was not a handsome man. Bald, monstrously fat and ugly would be an accurate description. Yet he disrobes, sits down upon white satin sheets and ensures he will be found in the most disgusting of positions. One would have thought he would have left his clothes on. A second thought concerns the wound itself. Very messy and painful. It takes a man of great courage to open his throat. Just as effective would be to open the arteries at the wrist.'

  'Yes, yes, yes,' said the surgeon. 'This is all very interesting. But what we have here is a man dead in a locked bedroom, the instrument of his demise in his hand. We will never know what was going on in his mind at the time of his death. I understand his beloved nephews were killed only days ago. His brain was obviously unhinged by grief.'