The Warlord_s legacy cr-2

by Ari Marmell

"My years have been blessed with an astonishing variety of discomfort."

  They didn't hear what Jassion said to the guards, but eventually he waved them forward. The soldiers stepped aside, and the trio walked with measured tread into the seat of Imphallion's mercantile government.

  "It's disgraceful!" Jassion hissed as they walked, his tone still vaguely nasal. He kept his voice low despite his clear agitation, lest any of the many scurrying pages and couriers overhear. "War with Cephira, attacks by-ah, 'Rebaine'-and for all their added security, the guards just took me at my word and let us in!"

  "Well, you are who you said you were," Irrial pointed out.

  "They didn't know that!"

  "We're pretty far from the front. And it's not as though they expect You-Know-Who to walk in the front door."

  "It's disgraceful," he muttered again. "If a soldier has a job to do, he should do it! I'd have these men flogged if they worked for me."

  Corvis, feeling that Jassion's sense of propriety was perhaps misplaced at the moment-particularly since they were the security breach the guards' negligence permitted-chose not to say anything to get the baron even more riled. He did, however, roll his eyes at Irrial, who rewarded him, oh so briefly, with that amused curl of her lips he'd not seen in far too long.

  Through familiar corridors, up familiar stairs-and even, once, past a stain of what was probably familiar blood-they wended their way. It looked much as it had the last time they'd been here, save for the presence of many more guards. Corvis began to have serious doubts about their plan, unsure if they could win free should it go wrong. But as he had no better notions to offer, and as it was already too late even if he had, he kept his misgivings private.

  The top floor, and back to that one particular office guarded by half a dozen sentries. Jassion made as if to march right past them, until they steadfastly refused to clear the way. With a full-blown aristocratic glower that Corvis wasn't certain was feigned, he announced, "The Baron Jassion of Braetlyn, and associates, to see Guildmistress Salia Mavere. Right now."

  "Have you an appointment?" the guard asked, just as impressed with this strutting noble as he'd been with all the others he'd thrown out.

  "No."

  "Then-"

  "Just announce us. She'll see us."

  The guard didn't bother to hide his sigh, and Corvis feared he'd have to physically restrain Jassion from bludgeoning the man to death. After a few deep breaths, however, the baron calmed himself, and the soldier indicated the door with a shallow tilt of his head. One of the other men cracked that door open and stepped inside. They could just hear the voices, here in the hall, and while they couldn't make out a single word, the surprise in one of those voices was more than a little evident.

  The guard reappeared, shaking his head in astonishment. "She'll see them," he told his commander, now sounding as surprised as Mavere had.

  "She-what? But…"

  "She said she'll see them."

  The officer was visibly crestfallen. "All right," he grumbled. Then, before Jassion took half a step, "but not under arms."

  "My companions are not armed," he replied. "Search them if you like. As for me…" He raised his hand, slowly so as not to cause undue alarm, to touch the hilt protruding over his shoulder. "I'll not be relinquishing my sword, no. Ask the Guildmistress. I doubt she'll explain why, but she'll assure you it's all right."

  Corvis did his best to look meek, face aimed at the floor so nobody would see him grinding his teeth. Just seeing the blade on Jassion's back was enough to make him want to…

  The guard returned to the office looking even more dubious, and came out looking even more perplexed. "She says it's all right."

  The officer grunted something impolite and stepped aside. Without so much as a nod of acknowledgment, Jassion strode past, Corvis and Irrial following close behind.

  "Baron Jassion?" Salia asked, rising from behind her desk. "I have to admit, I'm a bit concerned to learn you're here. Why-?"

  It all happened at once, between one breath and the next. Irrial firmly shut the door behind her. Jassion bowed low before the Guildmistress, far lower than was his wont. And Corvis, allowing his concentration to lapse and the illusions to drop, sprinted across the room like a starving leopard. His fist closed around Sunder's hilt, yanking it from the scabbard across Jassion's back-and gods, had that taken long hours of arguing, and many oaths on Jassion's part, before Irrial convinced him to place the weapon, however briefly, in the baron's care. In the heartbeats it took him to vault the desk, sending a flurry of parchment in all directions, the Kholben Shiar had shifted once more from Jassion's two-hander to Corvis's axe, the blade of which now gently kissed the priestess's throat. Corvis wasn't certain whether he, or Salia herself, was more disturbed by the weapon's eager quiver.

  "If you so much as raise your voice above a whisper," Corvis warned her, "the Blacksmiths' Guild will be, ah, let's say, looking for a new head."

  Her glare was sharper than Sunder itself, her face as pallid as those parchments drifting slowly to the floor, her jaw clenched tight enough to bend raw iron-but she nodded shallowly.

  "I'd apologize for the discourtesy," Jassion told her, moving to stand before the desk. The bandage tied across his face, discolored where humors occasionally seeped from his ravaged nose, was now clearly visible. "But in all honesty, I'd prefer to let him kill you."

  "Jassion, what…?" Even at a whisper, her fury and her confusion-and yes, her fear-were palpable.

  "I do not," he said harshly, "appreciate being used, Mavere."

  "I don't know what you've done to him," she began, eyes flickering to the man at her side, "what spells you've cast on him, but-"

  "No spells, Salia. No tricks, no sorcery. You said that you had knowledge of magic when we last spoke. Take a good look at him."

  She shrugged, wincing as the movement scraped the skin of her throat across the blade. "Wouldn't help. Illusions I can detect; they're visible. If I could sense spells of the mind, I'd have discovered all your puppets in Guild ranks long ago." Her voice seemed almost wistful at that.

  Corvis frowned, but it made sense.

  "And I cannot," she added, "think of anything other than the most potent magics that would inspire Lord Jassion to cooperate with you."

  "You should have thought harder then," Irrial interjected, sliding the latch home on the door and stepping into the center of the room, "before starting all this."

  The Guildmistress looked from one to the other, saw no pity anywhere. Corvis could see in her expression that she was weighing the odds if she called for the guards.

  "You'd be dead before your voice reached them," he warned. Her shoulders slumped.

  "Where's Kaleb?" she demanded.

  Jassion smiled shallowly. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you-oh. Perhaps you mean Khanda?"

  So stiffly did Salia tense that Corvis had to yank Sunder back a hair to avoid cutting her. "How did-?"

  "What were you thinking, you stupid bitch?" Irrial and Corvis exchanged worried glances, concerned that Jassion's own temper might alert the guards, but so far the baron was managing-albeit barely-to keep his voice low. "How could you use me that way? How could you unleash something like that creature on your own people?"

  "I assure you, Khanda is completely under control."

  "Not for long," Corvis told her. Then, at her expression, "You asked what could inspire Jassion and me to work together? That'd do it, wouldn't you think?"

  "It's not possible. Jassion, whatever Rebaine's told you, it's a lie. He-"

  "Is more convincing than you. Especially given what I've seen recently." Then, though it clearly cost him, he forced his voice, his expression, to calm. "Mavere, I only saw the aftermath of the Twins' rampage through Mecepheum, but you were present for all of it. You've seen what creatures of such power can do-and you've seen how little we can do to stop them. We know some of what Khanda plans, and I assure you, if he succeeds you'll wish you'd died back then."

  "It's
a lie," she insisted stubbornly.

  "Perhaps you'll want to ask Nenavar about that?" Corvis suggested. Again, standing so close, he couldn't possibly miss the tension that ran across Salia's body like a cold shiver. She knew the name, all right.

  "It's he who assured me that the bonds on the summoning were unbreakable. And I've seen him put Kaleb-Khanda-in his place. Besides, even if I wanted to, I've no means of just calling him here. I'd have to send a messenger, and I doubt you're willing to sit in this office for the hours it would take for a reply."

  "I can be surprisingly patient," Corvis told her. "So can Irrial. Jassion might be a problem, I imagine." He ignored the bandage-wrapped glare. "But that's all moot, since you're not sending a messenger. You're going to take us to him."

  Her laugh was a forced and feeble thing. "And why would I do that?"

  "Because even walking through the halls or the streets, we can kill you before any help arrives," Jassion snarled at her. "And if you won't help us, there's no reason not to kill you right now for what you've done!"

  "More to the point," Corvis said, shaking his head in exasperation, "no matter how certain you think you are that we're lying to you, you can see Jassion and me standing here, working together, telling you the same thing. And you're worried that we just might be telling you the truth. Tell me, Salia, would Verelian be served by his own priestess unleashing a demon in the mortal world? Are you willing to go down in history as the next Audriss-assuming there even is a history after Khanda gets through with us?

  "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish with all of this," he continued more softly, "though I think I can guess a good chunk of it. But what I'm certain of is that all your plans won't be worth a gnome's chamber pot if Khanda breaks loose. So you tell us, Salia. Which way do you want it?" THEY'D NEEDED HER COMPLIANCE, prayed for it, even counted on it-but that didn't mean they were remotely ready to trust it. Throughout the nerve-racking trek through the corridors and stairs of the Hall of Meeting, one or the other of them remained at Mavere's back, ready to act if she even looked askance at a passing guard, the others equally alert in case any of the passing guards looked askance at them. Even after they'd gathered their horses, and hers, they walked the beasts through Mecepheum's streets, the better to ensure the Guildmistress remained within easy reach. Only once they'd passed through the main gates did they mount up and ride, and even then they took steps to ensure Salia remained in their midst.

  The faint but steady autumn breezes and overcast skies had brought a certain chill to the roads. Thus, though she'd claimed that the ride was only a few hours, they'd taken the opportunity-always with careful eyes on Salia, of course-to acquire some traveling cloaks and coats before leaving the city. It was partly for the sake of their own comfort, but mostly as an excuse, under the guise of "friendly assistance" while shopping, for Irrial to search their unwilling guest for concealed weapons. More than once, Corvis sensed the priestess's gaze upon him and had looked around to see not merely the anger and the fear that he'd anticipated-even, he had to admit, reveled in-but also a peculiar puzzlement.

  He wasn't about to ask her what was wrong, of course. But he did wonder.

  As they traversed a minor highway that was festively garbed in fallen leaves of red and gold, Corvis watched Jassion with idly hostile curiosity. The baron fiddled with the ties around his throat, trying to keep the knot of his bandage from getting caught in the folds of his new midnight-hued cloak. He fidgeted, craned his neck-and somehow, even from the rear, Corvis could tell that he frowned.

  Perhaps sensing the older man's questioning gaze, Jassion tugged on the reins, dropping back a few paces. "I'm no great believer in omens," the nobleman told him, "but I have to admit, I'm not pleased at that."

  Corvis glanced up and noted, despite their growing distance from Mecepheum, a number of crows circling high above. He thought back to the birds perched atop the roof of the Hall of Meeting, and he, too, frowned thoughtfully.

  "Keep on going with the others," he said suddenly, wheeling his own horse about. "I'll catch up."

  "What? Where are you-?"

  "Probably nowhere. You've just got me paranoid now. I want to make sure nobody's following-that Mavere didn't somehow manage to signal anyone."

  "Paranoid indeed," Jassion said. "But probably wise," he acknowledged, riding on ahead. CORVIS DID INDEED CATCH BACK UP a few moments later and fell into step behind the others.

  "Anything?" Jassion called over his shoulder.

  "No danger," Corvis replied, wrapping his own crimson cloak more tightly against the autumn chill. "As you said, just paranoid."

  Irrial might have detected the odd tenor in his voice, or that he sat somewhat straighter in the saddle than before. But Irrial rode at the front, with Salia between her and the others, and Jassion didn't know his hated ally well enough to notice. He simply nodded, and the four rode on.

  Above, the crows continued to circle for a few moments more, and then, one by one, they departed for more worthwhile surroundings. MECEPHEUM, AS BOTH IMPHALLION'S CAPITAL and its richest community, was one of those cities that doesn't seem to know when to stop. Like a noblewoman's skirts, neighborhoods and estates spread from the main walls.

  At the edge of what could even pretend to be called Mecepheum stood a large estate. A squat stone manor occupied the property's center, surrounded on three sides by gardens and on the rear by a hedge maze that ran across several gentle knolls. A marble wall separated the grounds from the outside, but it wasn't much of an impediment-the iron gate in its center was unbarred, and the wall itself a mere three feet high. Obviously, it had been built not as security, but just an ornate and expensive means of declaring My territory starts here.

  Save for the lack of guards, footmen, or even a bell-pull at the gate, there was nothing to differentiate it from any of the other rich, aristocratic estates that sprouted sporadically-gilded mushrooms, as Corvis couldn't help but think of them-throughout these long swathes of pseudo-Mecepheum.

  "I have to admit," Irrial said as they halted just outside the gate, "it's not what I was expecting."

  "Nor I," Jassion said.

  "No?" Salia scoffed. "You imagined a bleak tower of black stones? An imposing castle of impossible spires? Or maybe a dank cave somewhere?"

  "Well, he is a powerful wizard…," Irrial protested mildly.

  "And you've been reading too many melodramas. Nenavar earns his wealth by hiring his services out to any who can afford them-a rare and select few, to be sure-and enjoys that wealth as any man would. What better place for him to live than here?"

  "If we're through critiquing the aesthetics of the nice diabolist," Corvis asked irritably, "do you suppose we might get a move on? I'd like to take steps to prevent it before Khanda finally shows up and tries to rip my spine out through my arsehole."

  "I don't actually read many melodramas," Irrial informed them as they moved toward the gate. "I prefer to watch them performed on stage. I find it a lot more-"

  "Irrial?"

  "Yes, Corvis?"

  "Let it go."

  Jassion pushed the gate wide and led them onto the property. Corvis, who'd half expected it to swing ponderously open on its own, was peculiarly grateful that the wizard hadn't enchanted it to do so. The path led, straight as a lance, through nicely trimmed grasses and well-maintained gardens of tulips and potato blossoms to the manor door. At no point were they approached or harassed, nor did they see any sign of movement, from either the property or the house itself, for which the breeze could not account.

  "Are you certain he's here?" Jassion demanded.

  Salia shrugged. "How would I know?"

  The door, like the manor itself, was thick, solidly built, but relatively unadorned. It boasted a brass knocker in the form of a simple ring, a smaller knob-also brass-and nothing more.

  Corvis shrugged and pounded on the heavy wood. They heard the echoes reverberating through the chamber beyond, and a large chamber it must have been, but even after man
y minutes and several more knocks, they received no response. He clasped the knob, more out of habit than any real hope the door was unlocked, and sure enough it declined to cooperate.

  "I refuse to be killed," he told the others without bothering to look back at them, "because one man happened to be out for tea when we showed up on his stoop." He muttered a few words, casting a spell to make obvious any wards or curses Nenavar might have placed upon his door. He spotted only a handful, far fewer than he anticipated, and knew that none could withstand the touch of the Kholben Shiar. Directing his companions to stand back, he hefted Sunder and brought it down beside the knob.

  Wood, metal, and magic splintered, the door swung ajar, and beyond it Corvis and the others saw…

  … Nothing. The house was empty. One great hollow chamber, lacking even interior walls.

  "I love what he's done with the place," Corvis said blandly.

  "I don't understand," Salia muttered, flinching from Jassion's angry glare. "I've sent multiple couriers! This is where he told us to find him, and this is where they've come."

  And Corvis abruptly understood. "But he wanted them to find him. Us, perhaps less so." He stepped from the door to stare up at the nearest window, idly spinning Sunder at his side. "It's a neat trick, Nenavar!" he shouted, his words carrying to all corners of the property on a voice that had once bellowed across battlefields. "I don't know if it's a teleportation you've cast on the doorway, or an illusion, or even a bubble of an alternative realm inside the house. And I don't care. My companions and I have nowhere to be, so I'm more than happy to take the time to chop through your damn walls! Maybe that'll take us around your little spell, or maybe I'll just have to keep it up until the house collapses. Either way I promise that it'll end with you and me both in a bad mood.

  "Or you can assume that, just maybe, Mavere had a good reason for bringing us here, and you can deign to talk to us."

  Silence. Until, from behind him, Irrial called out, "Khanda's found a way to free himself from your spells!"

  Corvis stared at her. She just shrugged.

  The door slammed shut of its own accord, then opened once more. This time it revealed a cozy foyer, replete with burning incense and a cloak rack.