“Nay, remain, Wilmot. You must come with me to the High Council, and repeat to my fellow councilors what you have told me,” the Shadow Prince said.
“Gaius Prospero will have me slain for it, my lord,” Wilmot said. “I will be called traitor, and my mother will be sent from our hovel to wander homeless and helpless.”
“Did not Lara offer your mother sanctuary, Wilmot?”
“How…how did you know that, my lord prince?” The mercenary was astounded.
Lothair smiled, but did not answer. “I can see your mother is taken to safety, Wilmot. Today. Within the hour. Then you will be free to speak the truth before the council. Will you trust me?”
“How do you know Lara?” Wilmot asked.
“I am he who taught her to fight,” Lothair said with a small smile.
“I trust you then, my lord prince,” the mercenary replied. “She fought with skill, and with great honor.” He shook his head wonderingly. “I would never have thought a girl so fair would become so fierce. Yet she is more beautiful than when I last saw her before she left the City over two years ago.”
“Ferocity is a quality that can apply to both pleasure and battle,” Prince Lothair replied. “Now sit down, and I will bring your mother to you.” He waved his hand while murmuring several unintelligible words, and there was a flash of light. When it had faded Mistress Mildred stood in the center of the room looking quite confused.
“Mother!” Wilmot was on his feet to reassure her. Then he quickly explained the situation that had saved his life and returned him to the City. “You must go to the Outlands, to Lara, Mother, for your life, both of our lives, will be in danger when I have spoken the truth before the High Council. The Guild of Mercenaries was lied to, not that that would have disturbed our captains, some of whom may have known. We invaded and abused a peaceful people, and we have paid for it with our lives. I must speak the truth, but I cannot until I know you are safe.”
“Will they kill you?” Mistress Mildred wanted to know.
“Perhaps,” Wilmot said. “Their sole rationale has become profit as the merchants themselves. I know for a fact that a portion of the ores and gems mined in the Outlands was given to our guild in exchange for our service. Once each month we were permitted to take a single small gem for our pay, but the captains took more. They will be loath to have their greed and corruption uncovered, and may well try to have me killed.”
“Then I would just as soon die, too, my son. You are all I have,” the old lady said. “I do not know these Outlands which are said to be barbaric. Why would Lara welcome me? If she is all you have said, then she is a great lady now. She does not want to be bothered with a homeless old woman, my son. No. I will remain here.”
The mercenary looked distraught.
“Perhaps another solution,” the prince said. “Would you be content to live in the house of Sir John Swiftsword, Mistress Mildred? You should be in the City, and privy to all the gossip that this national problem will engender. And Wilmot could visit you.”
“Well,” Mistress Mildred said slowly, “aye, I could be content in the Garden District if they would have me. But perhaps Susanna has become too grand for her old neighbor from the Quarter, my lord.”
“I will inquire, mistress, but for now you will remain in the sanctuary of my home with your son,” the prince said. He had offered this remedy to calm the old woman, but he had no intention of following through. It was too dangerous for Lara’s family.
The door to the chamber where they spoke now opened, and a man, similar in appearance to Prince Lothair, entered. “I heard we had visitors,” he said with a smile.
“This is my brother Eskil,” Lothair told his guests, and then he introduced Wilmot and Mistress Mildred to his companion prince. “He serves with me on the High Council now.” Lothair clapped his hands, and the manservant was immediately there. “Take our guests to their rooms,” he instructed the man. “I will see you both for the evening meal. You will be safe here with me.” When they had gone, he explained the situation to Eskil.
“Once he has spoken before the High Council they will no longer be safe in the City,” Eskil said. “I worry less about Gaius Prospero than I do his secretary, the ubiquitous Jonah. He walks within a cloud of ambition. Gaius Prospero is merely greedy for anything his pudgy beringed fingers can grasp. Gold. Power. Beautiful women. Gemstones. Food. Good wine. Nay, Gaius Prospero doesn’t frighten me, but Jonah is a dangerous man.”
“But he must move carefully or lose everything,” Lothair responded. “We yet have time to put a stop to this expansion, especially now that the Outlanders have given Hetar’s forces such a thorough beating. Gaius Prospero will be eager to place blame on anyone but himself for this debacle. It is up to us to see he accepts the responsibility of defeat as well as the profits of success.”
“He will go to the people,” Eskil said, “and fill their minds with confusion.”
“We must reach them with the truth first, and have them place the blame where it belongs-on the thick shoulders of the Master of the Merchants,” Lothair suggested with a wry smile.
“We will need help,” Eskil said.
“I will call upon Lara’s kin, the Forest Faeries,” Lothair answered.
“Do not interfere with her destiny, brother,” Eskil said.
“I will not,” Lothair promised, “but do you want to see an emperor ruling Hetar? An emperor named Gaius Prospero? The faeries will unravel the confusion in the minds of the people that the others will attempt to sow. You know that if the people are vocal enough the High Council will heed them, if only to save themselves. It is only when the people become so tired with the games played by their politicians that men like Gaius Prospero can prevail. We both know that change is coming to Hetar, but the time is not quite right. But if we allow Gaius Prospero to interfere in what must be, who knows what damage he might cause? We must consider all aspects of this situation.”
Eskil nodded. “Nonetheless, we must get Wilmot and his mother to safety after he has spoken. I would not put it past our adversary to attempt an assassination in the Garden District. John Swiftsword or a member of his family could be harmed. We cannot have that, Lothair. Either they go to the Outlands, or they come to us in the Desert. There is no other way, and they must understand that.”
“Wilmot will, and he will make the decision,” Lothair said.
A knock at the door, and a messenger entered bowing. “A meeting of the High Council has been called for this evening, my lords. At the sunset hour.”
“We will be there, and our thanks,” Lothair replied.
“That was quick,” Eskil said when the messenger had departed.
“Go and listen to see if Gaius Prospero knows if Wilmot is missing,” Lothair said. “I will call Ilona to gain her help.”
Eskil nodded and disappeared into a shadowy form that was quickly gone.
Lothair went to a cabinet and took out a round green crystal. Sitting down, he held the crystal between his hands and said, “Ilona, queen of the Forest, I call on you for your aid. Come to me now.”
The room was silent, and then there was a puff of purple smoke, and Ilona was there. “What is it you want, Prince Lothair?”
“Sit, oh queen, and I will tell you,” he said.
“Do not dawdle, old friend. Thanos, my mate, frets if I am gone too long, and my son still sucks at my breast.”
Lothair quickly sketched out the situation for Ilona, finishing with his request for aid.
“How can I help?”
“You must set the tiniest of your faeries on the shoulders of the people so that when they are told the lies that Gaius Prospero would have them believe, they will not believe. We must keep him from gaining too much power.”
“I will honor your request, Lothair. How fares my daughter?” Ilona asked.
“Well, I am told. She is wife to Vartan of the Fiacre. She has become a great warrior, and is respected by his people,” Lothair said.
“Has
she given him a child?” Ilona asked.
“Not yet, to my knowledge,” the prince answered.
“Then she does not love him,” the queen of the Forest Faeries said sadly.
“Or she does not believe the time is right for a child,” Lothair replied.
“Perhaps,” Ilona considered thoughtfully. “She is human as well as faerie. The times are unstable, and Lara has always had excellent instincts. I will go now, Lothair. My faeries will aid you.” Then Ilona was gone in another puff of purple smoke.
An amazing creature, the prince thought. And while she had never known her mother until recently, Lara was very much like her. He called his manservant, and gave orders that Wilmot and his mother be fed a good supper. “Tender our regrets, and tell Wilmot I will come for him when it is time.”
“Yes, my lord prince,” the servant responded.
“And bring me something to eat, and some wine. It will be a long night.”
Just before the time came for the meeting of the High Council, Eskil returned.
“Gaius Prospero does not know Wilmot is gone from his cart. He thinks the mercenary a stupid man who will blindly obey. He has spent the last hour arguing with his wife, who does not trust Jonah-knowledge we might use to our advantage,” Eskil said with a wicked smile. “The lady Vilia is a power to be reckoned with, I think.”
“I think her love for her husband could be her downfall,” Lothair noted. “One must be totally ruthless when dealing with a man like Jonah. Ah, Wilmot,” he said to the mercenary who had entered the room. “You are well fed, I hope, and your mother settled for the night?”
“Yes, my lord, thank you. I did not tell her that the council meeting was tonight, for she would fret,” Wilmot said.
“You must make a choice, and make it now,” Lothair said. “After the meeting of the High Council I will transport you both from the City. Your mother’s presence in the home of Sir John Swiftsword could endanger him and his family. I will send you to either Vartan’s hall in the Outlands, or to my palace in the Desert. You will both be completely safe in either place.”
“We will go to your palace, my lord prince. The warm dry air will be good for my mother’s old bones, and winter is setting into the Outlands now,” Wilmot responded.
Lothair nodded. “Your mother will awaken there, then, and you will go to sleep there this very night,” he promised. “It is little enough I can do to repay you for your bravery tonight. Gaius Prospero will, once he is over his shock, attack you, and the story you tell, but we will defend you, Wilmot. He is not head of the High Council right now, only the representative from the Midlands. It is our good fortune that one of the Coastal Kings now sits at the council’s head, and two of his brothers are on the council. With luck we may be able to put an end to Gaius Prospero’s ambitions, at least for the interim. Come now, we must go. Stand between my brother and me, and we will be transported.”
Wilmot put himself between Lothair and Eskil. He wasn’t as frightened now as he had been earlier. These were good men, though they might have great magic. But he closed his eyes.
“We are here,” Lothair said softly.
Wilmot opened his eyes and gazed with amazement about the council chamber. Never had he thought to see it. The room was round. There were eight carved wooden chairs with high backs set upon a marble dais encircling the room. They were arranged in twos. In the center of the chamber was a round piece of marble upon which a ninth chair had been placed. It swiveled about so that its occupant could face whoever was speaking.
“Feel free to look about you,” Lothair murmured. “You are not yet visible to the members of the council, nor will you be until it is time for you to speak. The fellow next to Gaius Prospero is Squire Dareh, the lord of the Midlands. Next to them are the two Forest Lords now serving in the council. They are Lord Albern and Lord Everard. On the other side of the Foresters are the Coastal Kings, Delphinus and Pelias. The council head is Archeron. Ah, he is here. We will begin.”
Wilmot looked down at his hands. He could see them. He pinched his arm, and jumped with the sensation. Unable to help himself, he looked directly at Gaius Prospero and made a face, but while the Master of the Merchants appeared to be looking directly at him, he gave no indication that he had seen Wilmot. He was indeed invisible!
At once Gaius Prospero was on his feet. “I beg to be recognized,” he said.
“Sit down, Gaius Prospero,” King Archeron said rising. “I have something to say before you begin what will undoubtedly be a lengthy diatribe filled with impassioned rhetoric that in the end will amount to nothing. But as your fellow council members we will be obliged to listen to you. First, however, I will speak in my capacity as current head of this council.” He stood waiting as the Master of the Merchants took his seat again. Then he began. “Almost a year ago to this very day, my lords, my fellow kings and the Shadow Princes advised you against a most dangerous course of action. At the urging of the Midlands and the Forest provinces, you chose to break the ancient treaty between Hetar and the Outlands. And you, Gaius Prospero, as then head of this high council, tipped the balance. So Hetar invaded a portion of the Outlands, murdered, raped and enslaved the people you found there. Then you stole from their mines, transporting much wealth back here to the City.
“Today we see the results of our foolishness. Seven carts containing the bodies of every mercenary we sent into the Outlands have been returned to the City. Over five hundred men whose women and children will now be driven from their homes, for the Guild of Mercenaries cares only for the families of those who give it service. What is to happen to these women and children? They must be housed and fed. It is only right as their men gave their lives for Hetar. Did you, Gaius Prospero, consider this when you sent those men into danger for the sake of profit? And where is that profit? It has not filled the public coffers, to my knowledge, or am I mistaken? We will need funds to care for the dispossessed, Gaius Prospero.”
The Master of the Merchants jumped to his feet. He was surprisingly agile for a man of his girth and years. “You cannot blame me for this tragedy, King Archeron,” he declared. “Put the blame where it belongs. With the barbarians of the Outlands! If they had not begun raiding into Hetar it would not have been necessary to annex some of their territory. Are you suggesting that we should have stood idly by while this happened?”
“The Outlanders never raided into Hetar. You fabricated that tale as an excuse to steal their riches,” King Archeron said.
“Do you call me liar then?” Gaius Prospero blustered.
“Yes.” The word hung heavy within the council chamber. “Unlike you, Gaius Prospero, who bleat and blow about a people you know not, the Coastal Kings do know the Outlanders. Our land borders that of the Felan clan. They are shepherds, Gaius Prospero, not raiders. They gladly share their beaches and water supply with us, and they trade with us. The other clans raise horses, cattle, grain, vegetables, fruit and flowers. One of the clans is made up of poets and bards. The territories you attempted to annex not so much for Hetar, but for yourself, were that of the mining clans. They took from the earth only what they needed, and they always restored the land in which they worked. You came in and scarred their land while you stole its riches. It will take the mountain clans years to repair the damage you have done.”
He turned now to address the rest of the council. “Do you know what was done to the clan families in the Purple Mountains? Their elderly were all slain because it was decided they were not useful, and could not be fed. The men and boys were all put to work in the mines, and those who could not or would not work were slain as well. The women and girls were used and abused by the invaders. This kind of behavior is not our way, my lords. Hetar has always been proud of its civility. Now history will remember this time as a time of dishonor, and all because of one man’s greed!”
“My lord king.” Prince Lothair had stood up that he might be granted the right to address the high council.
“Speak, Prince,” King Arche
ron said.
“It is no secret that my brothers and I opposed the invasion of the Outlands. Today there came to me one of the survivors among the mercenaries to tell me his story, and bring me a message from the lords of the Outlands. May he speak?”
“A liar! A coward!” Gaius Prospero cried. “Why else would he have survived the dreadful massacre that took our brave citizens from us! Do not listen to his words, my lords! They are false, and filled with guile.”
“Thus spoke the snake,” Lothair murmured.
“I would hear what this man has to say,” King Archeron said, and the other council members nodded although some less vigorously than others.
“Step forward, Wilmot,” the prince invited, and the mercenary was suddenly visible to them all.
“What magic is this?” demanded Squire Dareh of the Midlands.
“The kind, sir, that has kept Wilmot safe from murder,” the prince answered.
“You may speak to us, Wilmot,” King Archeron said in a quiet voice.
“My lords,” Wilmot began, “I thank you for hearing me. The reason my few comrades and I survived was that we fought to the end. We were then chosen to be spared in order to drive these carts to the City. I bring you a message from the lords of the Outlands. They did not begin this war, but it is their hope that it is now ended. That the ancient treaty between Hetar and the Outlands can be restored.”
“And what of reparations?” Gaius Prospero said angrily.
“They are willing to accept the lives of those they slew as recompense,” Wilmot replied. He struggled to maintain a passive face, for he knew that was not at all what the Master of the Merchants had meant by his question.
Gaius Prospero grew purple in the face. He sputtered, but no words came out.
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