"Pancras, First Wizard of Drak-Anor."
"First Wizard?" Prince Gavril cocked an eyebrow. "A political title. I have heard of Drak-Anor but know little of it." He gestured at the table in the center of the room. "Please, sit. I have a proposition."
Pancras could not imagine what the Prince of Etrunia wanted with him, but if it meant a chance to free Kale and Delilah and find Edric so they could be on their way, Pancras was obliged to listen. He would take his chances in the wilderness only if it meant avoiding the headsman's axe. Pancras sat at the table and wished he had clothes. He felt exposed, vulnerable. The prince poured a brown liquid into two glasses and handed one to Pancras. The minotaur sniffed the glass. It smelled of oak and alcohol.
"I don't trust men who don't drink. Our spirits are strong and will keep you warm on cold nights." The prince drank his glass down in one gulp. Pancras did the same, grimacing as the liquid burned its way down into his stomach.
"I want you to work a spell to make my wife barren."
Pancras blinked and almost dropped the glass from his hand. He set it on the table. He knew of hexes that could have such effects, but he had not ever performed such spells.
"I can see you are confused. My wife shuns me every night unless she wants to conceive a child. Then, and only then, am I welcome in her bed. I mount her and deliver my seed. If she does not conceive, we try again. If she does, she has nothing to do with me until the next time she wants a child. As it would be improper for me to take a mistress, I find myself lacking when it comes to companionship at night, and believe me, even these halls grow cold in winter."
"I am not sure…" Pancras stalled. He didn't know what to say. He gave up necromancy for a reason, and he thought it heinous to render a woman infertile.
"I don't need you to understand, but I will explain further. When two people are wed in Etrunia, the man's possessions become his wife's. If I demand a divorce now, without cause, I will lose everything. My lands, my titles, my money. However, if I have cause, say, because my wife is barren, well, that's another matter. She will be cared for, of course, as will the children we have, but I cannot be obligated to stay with a barren woman. As prince, I have a duty to spread my seed as widely as I can, provided it is with my wife."
"In exchange"—the prince offered more whiskey to Pancras, who declined with a shake of his head—"I will provide accommodations here in the palace for you and your companions until the snows thaw and you can resume your journey."
Pancras looked at the table, furrowing his brow in thought. "It is a difficult ritual, dangerous and time consuming. There is a risk to her."
"If she dies, I will be free to find a new wife." The prince smiled. "Of course, I could not allow the death of my wife to go unpunished."
There's the rub. Pancras rubbed his chin. So far, Almerian hospitality left much to be desired. But should I trade this woman's fertility for our comfort? He realized there was much more than their comfort at stake. The authorities meant to jail them indefinitely or have them executed, and the Slayers would have an easy time of it if the archmage sent them after Pancras and Delilah while they rotted in a jail cell.
"Consider this, today, in your jail cell, Pancras." Prince Gavril leaned forward and grinned. "You all will likely hang from the gibbets if you don't perform this service for me. See what your companions think of that." The prince lowered his voice, eyes darting from side to side, as if looking for eavesdroppers. "But speak not of the request I made of you. No one must know. If anyone asks why you're here, claim to be ambassadors from… Drak-Anor, is it? I can guarantee you a slow and painful death if my wife or anyone else finds out."
* * *
After choking down what the prison classified as food, Kale returned to his cot. Counting knots in the wood beams that crossed the ceiling wasn't the most exciting activity in which to immerse himself, but it was the only entertainment available to him at present. Delilah wanted to work out an escape scheme, but Kale was not sure if the guards could hear them talking, and he didn't want to spend all his time sitting on a hard floor so they would be close enough to whisper.
All things considered, he felt good. His insides didn't burn anymore, although his back still ached where the two lumps had formed. Kale dozed, although the creak of the holding area door awakened him as it opened. He looked up to see Pancras escorted in. The guards opened a cell for him, removed his shackles, and exited.
"Hey, you're back." Delilah traced symbols in the floor of her cell with a finger. "They took the muzzle off."
Pancras rubbed his snout. "It was an odd meeting. Not with a magistrate."
"Oh?"
Kale sat up and cocked his head. "Well, who then?"
"The prince propositioned me."
"He's into minotaurs? Huh." Kale shrugged. "Can you tolerate humans enough to put up with him?"
Pancras snorted. "Not that kind of proposition, Kale! He wants a favor from me, from a necromancer. In exchange, he's offered to let us stay the winter in the palace."
Kale hopped off his cot and ran to the bars. "That's great! Let's get out of this place, then!"
Delilah stood up and nodded her agreement. "Yeah, whatever it is that you have to do, do it. The palace beats jail and that dumpy inn, too."
"I was afraid you would feel that way." Pancras flopped onto his cot and covered his face with his hands. "I don't want to do what he wants."
"Well, what is it?" Kale couldn't imagine Pancras would risk their freedom just to avoid creating a few skeletons or zombies for the local ruler.
"I cannot tell you, but I don't want to do it."
Delilah rattled her cell door. "Hey, look at me. Don't get all worried about being proper. They'll keep us locked up and throw away the keys if they can. You need to do what he wants or at least make him think you've done what he wants, and get us out of here. What happens if they keep us locked up long enough that we don't get to Muncifer on time?"
"They'll send the Slayers after us, and we'll be sitting ducks here in jail." Pancras rolled of his cot and paced. "Maybe I can find an alternative solution. I have time. I told him what he wants is complicated and time-consuming. It's going to take a month, at least, to pull everything together anyway."
The thought of living in the palace until spring made Kale want to jump around and cheer. "Come on, Pancras, you have to at least say yes, even if you don't mean it. Once we get out of this jail, we can figure out what we're going to do after that."
"All right, all right. I'll agree to the terms. Maybe there's something more going on, something to which I am not privy, something we can use to our advantage once we are free from this place." Pancras rattled his cell door. "Guards! Guards!"
The holding area door opened. "Quiet! One more outburst, and you'll go hungry tonight!"
Kale shared a grin with his sister as Pancras shook his head and sighed.
"Tell Prince Gavril I agree to his terms."
* * *
The guards brought all their possessions into the holding cell and dumped them all in a pile. As they sorted through it, the guards brought two battered and bruised humans in, shoving them into the cells Kale and Delilah previously occupied.
The mustachioed guard banged his cudgel against one of the cells. "All right, you lot. I've orders to take you to the palace straight away."
"No way. We still have stuff at our inn." Delilah put her hands on her hips. "You're going to take us there, first. I'm not leaving my staff and books with that brute one minute longer."
He raised his cudgel to strike. Pancras stepped forward, pushing Delilah out of the way. "We all have valuables at The Sleeping Viper. The prince would be very displeased if we arrive unable to work because you refused to let us retrieve our possessions."
The guard lowered his cudgel and considered Pancras's words. "We'll send someone 'round to collect your things. We have orders to deliver you"—he pointed at Pancras—"right away."
Pancras looked down at Kale. "Kale, go with the guard
s. Make sure they don't forget or miss anything at the inn. All my things are in my pack." He looked back at the guard. "Acceptable?"
"Maybe I should go with them." Delilah watched her brother and the guards leave.
Shaking his head, Pancras followed their escort out of the holding area and up the stairs leading out of the jail. "Together, you two might come up with a scheme that would cause us more trouble. This way, Kale will return to us with the guards."
Delilah made a face behind Pancras's back. He's right. We'd give those guards the slip and figure out a way to bust us all out of this mess. At least they didn't damage my new cloak. She adjusted the sash at her waist and ran her claws over her belly. Delilah wasn't accustomed to wearing clothing that covered this much of her body since draks didn't need to cover themselves the way softer-skinned people did. Thankful she chose her new garment carefully, she was determined to look the part of a civilized wizard.
Pedestrians on the streets of Almeria gave their escorts a wide berth. Delilah was happy for the reprieve from being crowded by relative giants. Dodging people oblivious to her presence tired her. A rumbling knot in her stomach reminded her she had not eaten since the morning's gruel.
She tugged at Pancras's sleeve. The minotaur shuffled behind the guards, towering over his escorts. "Hey, do you think the fare at the palace will be good?"
"It should be. Nobility often eat better than the common folk. We may have to eat with the servants, but I'd wager it will still be better that what the average citizen eats." They turned a corner onto a wide, tree-lined avenue. Leaves of red, yellow, and brown swirled along the street, dancing on gusts of wind. The spires of the palace jutted above the surrounding wall and obscured the rest of the palace grounds from Delilah's sight.
The guards directed them to the side of the avenue as a gilded, horse-drawn carriage approached. Delilah marveled at the gleaming white coach as it passed, every surface covered with ornate carvings and gold accents. Sheer curtains drawn over the windows provided privacy for the passengers while allowing diffused light to illuminate the interior. To Delilah the carriage was large enough to be a drak house on wheels, although she suspected Pancras would consider it cramped.
A bridge crossed the moat that surrounded the palace's wall. They crossed over it, and Delilah looked down, only to be disappointed by the brown, murky water in the moat. Damn. I hoped for some monsters or something waiting to gobble up invaders. She noticed murder holes, similar to those at the city gates, as they passed beneath the gatehouse and its twin portcullises. Beyond the gatehouse, the palace grounds sprawled with fields of green. Groves of trees, their once-green leaves having given way to the multi-colored palette of autumn, were surrounded by fields of late-blooming flowers. She was surprised to see draks and humans working alongside each other tending the greenery.
The palace itself was vast. Delilah lost count of the spires and turrets jutting up from the main structure. "You could put dozens of clans of draks in there!"
"Compared to the crowds in the rest of the city, this will feel spacious, indeed." Pancras pulled her close. "We may be going from one cage to another, Delilah, but at least this one is warm and has good food."
* * *
Glancing at the garden as they passed through, Pancras identified half-a-dozen plants he could use for various potions and unguents. He expected they would be allowed free run of the palace grounds but suspected the prince would forbid them from going out into the city, at least, not without an armed escort. He could live with that until spring, but he feared the drak twins would chafe at those restrictions. Pancras also wondered about Edric. Maybe Kale will see him at the inn.
The guards led Pancras and Delilah up the palace steps to the gold-inlaid double doors that opened into the entrance hall. Pancras pulled Delilah by her cloak to keep the wide-eyed drak moving. A woman dressed in the garb of the Royal Guard approached them as they moved through the entrance hall.
"Hail, Borys!" She raised her hand in greeting to the mustachioed guard.
The guard bowed. "Lady Milena. Here are His Highness's new… patrons."
She regarded Pancras and Delilah before returning her gaze to Borys. "There were three of them."
"The third went with two of my guards back to their inn to retrieve the remainder of their possessions. He should be along shortly." Borys saluted and turned on his heels, leaving Pancras and Delilah with Lady Milena.
"I am Captain of the Royal Guard. Lady Milena Trueblade, Protector of the Realm, at your service." She crossed her fist over her chest and bowed, her long auburn hair falling forward and obscuring her face. With her free hand she brushed it back over her shoulders as she stood. "Follow me to your quarters, please."
Pancras grabbed Delilah to keep her from wandering over to gape at a painting of a long-forgotten battle and followed Lady Milena as she guided them through the palace's halls. Gold-framed paintings and tapestries covered the walls, interrupted only by sconces in which glowing gemstones provided light. Beneath the sconces were marble busts of men and women.
"Former rulers of Etrunia." Lady Milena pointed to the busts as they passed. "Each one, immortalized in stone. My family has proudly served for five generations."
Pancras nodded. "Do you know anything about our service to His Highness?"
"Nothing." She held a door open for Pancras and Delilah. "I am not privy to His Highness's dealings. I serve Etrunia first, Almeria second, and the current ruling family third. My ultimate duty is to crown and country, not who wears it."
After they climbed a series of stairs, past a hall of mirrors, Lady Milena led them down a hall whose open archways looked out over the gardens. It would be easy to jump that wall and escape into the flowers. Of course, one would have to contend with the drop and the outer wall. The look on Delilah’s face indicated she, too, might be mentally calculating a way to sneak out. He snapped his fingers behind him to gain her attention and shook his head to discourage thoughts of escape.
"Her Highness, Princess Valene, enjoys walking this corridor. The open air is good for one's health, you know, especially during the crisp mornings of autumn and winter!" She looked up at the sky. "We may get our first snow tonight. Can you feel it?" She stopped in front of a set of double doors and pulled a key from behind her tunic. "Your quarters are here. You will all be sharing, but I trust you will find them spacious."
Spacious was not the word Pancras would have chosen. The room they entered seemed to be the hub for four other rooms. A multi-colored, hand-cut woven rug, larger than most rooms in Drak-Anor, covered the floor of the parlor. A dining table constructed of dark, polished wood sat at the far end of the room in front of a window that overlooked the back garden. Matching high-backed chairs surrounded the table; enough place settings for six people and enough space to fit in at least another four by Pancras's reckoning. A smaller, ornately decorated round table stood in the near corner of the parlor, surrounded by four plush armchairs covered in velvet jacquard. Pancras could not identify the design on the table, but the repeating pattern on the chairs appeared to be some sort of stylized, ornamental flower. Two doors led out of the parlor on the wall to his left and right.
Delilah whistled as she looked around. "Very fancy. But where are the beds? We don't sleep on the floor, even if it does have a nice covering." She flexed her toes on the rug.
Lady Milena pointed to the doors on the side walls. "Bed chambers on either side, as well as a bathing room." She pointed to the farthest door on the right and then stepped over to a tapestry that depicted a sumptuous feast and, which hung from the wall near the right side of the table alongside the bathing room door. Pulling a dangling cord beside it, she raised the tapestry up and out of the way and revealed a small door inset into the wall. After winding the cord around a hook, she opened the door. Pancras eyed a rope leading down a shaft. Too small for me, but I’d wager one of the draks could fit if they didn't mind being cramped.
"Nourishment will be delivered here. Servants will b
e by shortly to check that you’re settling in. The kitchen does not take special requests, usually, but there are often limited choices each day." She closed the door and lowered the tapestry. "You are free to go where you like in the palace. Guards will turn you away from forbidden areas like the royal chambers or the treasury."
"What of the gardens? We may also wish to go into the city at some point." Pancras examined one of the tapestries on the wall. It depicted a battle among men of three armies and a fourth army of skeletons and what he assumed were spirits or ghosts of some kind.
"My instructions were to keep you here. You will not be permitted to leave the palace."
"That's ridiculous! I thought we were guests, not prisoners!" Delilah stomped her foot for emphasis, the impact lessened by the plush rug on which she stood.
"I know nothing of your arrangement with Prince Gavril. I was ordered to bring you here, nothing more." Lady Milena approached the tapestry Pancras examined. "This tapestry depicts the Battle of Badon Hill, the final defeat of the Lich Queen." She straightened, placing her hand on the hilt of her sword. "My father led the armies of Etrunia as they fought alongside the free peoples of Vlorey on those bloody plains. He gave his life to help defeat that witch."
The mention of the Lich Queen caused a pang in Pancras's chest. He knew of the necromancer of the north, of course. She conquered nearly half of the continent with her army of the dead before the combined forces of Vlorey, Etrunia, Cardoba, and a smattering of aid from the elves of Celtangate stopped her. Nearly every living defender who fell became part of the Lich Queen's army.
Darkness engulfed Pancras's vision. He staggered, grabbing Lady Milena's arm to steady himself. In the place where his hand should have been a shadowy claw wrapped around her mail-covered arm. Before his eyes, her flesh blackened and rotted away until nothing remained but red eyes in a gleaming white skull.
Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) Page 12
