Broken Lords: Book Two of the Broken Mirrors Duology

by A. F. Dery

  “I will do that, my lord, but I think making me wait is nothing less than cheating,” Thane replied dryly.

  The High Lord chuckled at that. “It is cheating, but you are my captive audience for the next month, so naturally, I intend to take full advantage of that fact, and your company while you are here. Please, come sit with us and have some wine.” He leaned forward slightly and said very quietly, the smile fading from his face, “Malachi has already arrived, and will be joining us shortly. Please prepare yourself, Thane. I know from your letter how upset you must be, but the matter cannot be ruled on tonight, and I can’t judge him before the fact. No, we must behave with all courtesy until this is sorted out.”

  “I understand,” Thane said quietly. “That is only just.” It truthfully wasn’t anything less than what Thane had expected to take place, but he still felt a sense of foreboding as he followed the High Lord over to the table and seated himself at his right hand at the High Lord’s emphatic gesturing.

  He recognized at once the other faces around the table and inclined his head by way of polite greeting before proceeding to ignore them unless addressed directly. He noticed the only other empty chair- surely meant for Malachi- was only just diagonally across the table from him, still within polite speaking distance but at least not directly facing one another.

  He sighed inwardly. He hoped this wasn’t the High Lord’s attempt to entice the men to “make nice” before it came down to a formal ruling. It was too late for that by far. He recognized the good intention, but couldn’t say as he appreciated it, under the circumstances.

  The curious thing was that there was no empty seat for Lady Malachi. Had she had that brat of theirs, then? Thane wondered. Or perhaps she was too far along in her confinement to be presented publicly. He couldn’t exactly remember how far along she was supposed to be now, not that this information had ever particularly concerned him.

  A servant came to fill the empty goblet at his seat, silent as a phantom at his elbow then slipping away just as silently. Thane ignored both servant and goblet, as Lady Ossian, seated beside him, murmured a polite greeting.

  He nodded to her, but to his surprise, given the fact that she ordinarily ignored his existence as much as possible, she continued speaking.

  “Things have been dreadful lately, I don’t mind telling you, Eladria,” Ossian said on a sigh. “The things I’ve had to put up with! The accusations from your friend.”

  “Friend?” Thane asked, keeping his face and voice carefully neutral.

  “Malachi. You wouldn’t believe the things he said to me! It was a simple misunderstanding, that is all. If anyone should be upset, it’s me. Those were my innocent citizens he cut down, and instead of coming to me he sent those blasted machines of his!”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, madame,” Thane said slowly. “And Malachi is no friend to me.”

  “Really? Well, I’d heard the rumors awhile ago that the two of you had fallen out, but I thought that surely you’d both have patched things up by now. No offense, Eladria, but no one else would have either of you around but the other,” Ossian said pertly.

  Thane shrugged one shoulder indifferently. “None taken, madame.”

  “Anyway, yes, apparently some members of the militia down by his border misunderstood a command they were given during a training exercise or something.” Ossian took a sip of her wine. “They thought there were rebels or something just across the border. It was a real bloodbath. Not because there actually were any rebels, of course, but because Malachi heard they were crossing the border fully armed and decided to send troops and mechanical men both to subdue them. He accused me of trying to invade! I mean, what the hell would I even want with his grubby little rock full of peasants and mechanical bread knives? The penalty would never be worth whatever I could squeeze out of his piddling little holding, and that’s the truth.”

  Thane gave a nod of agreement. It was a logic that was hard to refute. At the same time, his conscience forced him to say, “While that may be true, I can understand not viewing such a…misunderstanding…in a good light. I can’t say I would have acted much differently in his place.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, Eladria,” Ossian said, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re Eladrian. Everyone expects that kind of thing from you.” Thane barely stopped himself from raising an eyebrow as she went on, nonplussed, “But Malachi ought to know better. And I sent him a really nice wedding present, too. It was a very lovely tapestry depicting the legendary nuptial feast of Miruet and Kilm. I bet it ended up being used as a drop cloth or something, with the way he’s going these days.”

  Something she said had struck an odd note in his brain, however. “Did you say there were troops with the sentries? Real people, I mean?”

  “Yes indeed,” Ossian gave a bitter little laugh. “And no one was more surprised to hear it than I, believe me.”

  “What’s this, Jana?” Lord Jarel leaned over from next to the empty seat where Malachi was due to be seated. “Did you say Malachi has flesh and blood men defending him now? How much did they have to pay those poor bastards to fight alongside mechanized meat cleavers, I wonder!”

  Everyone who heard this comment laughed, except for Thane. He was staring down at his untouched goblet, deep in thought. He had advised Malachi for a long time to gather and train soldiers to better make use of his sentries, but he had always resisted. Why now, and what could it possibly mean? Did the man possibly plot a direct attack against Eladria? Was he perhaps merely using the supposed “invasion” by Ossian to test these forces of his?

  The laughter abruptly died down as a familiar voice said, dripping with sarcasm, “What better to carve meat with than a machine, Jarel? It certainly keeps my hands clean.”

  It was Malachi.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Thane’s hands knuckled into fists where they rested casually on top of his thighs as Malachi bowed and made his greeting to the High Lord. He forced his breathing to remain slow and even, but he felt his pulse racing and the burning need to draw the ax that was not sheathed on his person made his hands tingle.

  I should have brought it anyway, offensive or not, Thane thought grimly. Malachi looked entirely unchanged from the last time Thane had seen him. No, perhaps, that was not the whole truth. He saw now as Malachi turned back to the table that there was a bleakness about his eyes, a few extra lines settling around his mouth. It was so contrary to his expectation of seeing there defiance or at least the man’s habitual obnoxiousness when at Court that he did not quite look away in time to avoid meeting the other man’s eyes.

  “What is this?” Malachi said, frowning. “You did not tell me the brute would be here, my Lord.”

  “Surely you expected no less, Edmund,” the High Lord replied in a dry tone of voice. Thane glanced at him and saw that he had not troubled himself to so much as stand to greet Malachi. Not a good sign, Malachi, Thane thought, forcing himself to unclench his hands.

  He allowed himself another look at Malachi, and to his astonishment, the man had gone white.

  “I..that is, there is much we need to discuss, my Lord,” Malachi said, sounding, for all the world, merely exhausted.

  Could it be he feels remorse for what he has done and means to confess? Thane wondered, confused. None of this was making any sense to him.

  “Ah, yes, yes, there is, Edmund. Much we could have discussed far sooner, if my summons had meant anything to you.” The High Lord’s countenance was untroubled, his eyes still sparkling as always, but there was a touch of coolness to his velvety voice that had been previously absent.

  Malachi ignored the High Lord’s summons? If they had still been friends, Thane would have taken him aside and shaken him until his brain rattled back into functioning. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in that fool’s head. Ignoring the High Lord’s summons, gathering troops, attacking Ossian and sending that filthy pig to abduct Kesara from his very Hall…

  That
last thought made him tense his fists again and return his attention to his goblet, lest he glare the other man into fine powder and offend the High Lord.

  “But I have nothing to discuss with this one, my Lord. The matter is between you and I only,” Malachi said stiffly.

  Thane knew without looking up that Malachi was referring to him, and he said coldly without diverting his attention from the goblet, “I disagree, mechanist, and so would the innocent you are responsible for maiming.”

  A low murmur of astonishment rose up along the table at this pronouncement and Malachi said, with all appearance of confusion, “What are you blathering about, barbarian? I’ve maimed no one. If anyone would be so qualified, I can think of none better than yourself, but I surely know nothing about it.”

  “I am not so much maimed as deformed, but you are absolutely correct that I am far better qualified in this area than you are, o honorable ally,” Thane spat out, rising at once to his feet. “And I would be most pleased to demonstrate my skill. Perhaps it might refresh your memory of the incident in question, since it is such a forgettable trifle to you.”

  “What is that you say, you beast? I’m not sure I understood you properly amid all the growling and spitting,” Malachi said icily, narrowing his eyes.

  Thane knew he was being baited, knew he had spoken clearly, knew that even if he had not been, the bastard had spent sufficient time around him in the past to understand him perfectly by now, but he still felt the blood rushing traitorously to his face and his hands actually twitched to grab hold of something. Preferably that jack-ass’s throat, Thane thought furiously.

  “Gentlemen, please,” the High Lord said smoothly, rising himself and holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “All business will be resolved at the appropriate time. This night is for greetings and becoming reacquainted after such a long time apart. I have been looking forward to it immensely, and I beg you to let matters rest for the moment. There will be plenty of time to deal with these things later on.”

  After a long, tense moment, Thane subsided stiffly back into his seat, his eyes locked on Malachi. The other man took his chair, looking wary.

  “That is much better, good sirs,” the High Lord said soothingly, sitting down himself. “And please note, Edmund, that it behooves you to be courteous to your fellow guests. Have I done so little for you that I should be repaid with such a display at my own table?” The High Lord’s voice was entirely pleasant, but from the corner of his eye, Thane saw Malachi stiffen.

  “Of course not, my Lord. My apologies,” Malachi said, his voice strained. He reached for his goblet and took a long swallow.

  “Your apologies aren’t worth very much, particularly to grieving wives and children,” Ossian muttered, just loudly enough to be audible to those immediately near her. Pitching one’s voice just-so seemed to be a special skill of the nobility, Thane mused, suddenly liking her much better than he ever had in his life.

  “I told you, it was a misunderstanding, Janice. In future, you might communicate a little more clearly with your troops,” Malachi muttered back.

  Ossian’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve ruled my country longer than you’ve led yours, Edward, I think I know how to command my men. The problem is not with me. But just the same, I will leave it alone for now. I can assure you the High Lord will be hearing ALL the details soon enough.”

  Malachi waved one hand indifferently. “Do as you will, madame. It is no concern of mine. No one else would have acted any differently in my place.”

  “I would have sent an envoy first,” Jarel said virtuously.

  “That is just what I told him,” Ossian announced, as a servant appeared at her side to refill her goblet.

  “Fine, then allow me to rephrase. No one cares what you think, least of all me,” Malachi said coolly, then with a cautious glance towards the High Lord, added demurely with a polite nod of his head in Ossian’s direction, “Madame.”

  “Can you believe this, Eladria?” Ossian said, affronted.

  “Are you serious?” Thane asked incredulously before he could stop himself. He heard a quickly suppressed snort from Malachi’s direction and glowered down at his goblet.

  “Now, now, children,” the High Lord said dryly. “As I said, I called you all together so we could become reacquainted after this long absence, not so we could bicker. As you can see, there are several of our number still absent, but I assure you they are on their way.

  “In the meantime, I would be most pleased to hear how your respective journeys went, and if you have found everything to your satisfaction?”

  Ossian promptly launched uninvited into a lengthy and, in Thane’s opinion, unnecessarily detailed account of her trip. Did it really matter what she ate for every meal, every day that it took her to get there? Did the High Lord really care if the venison tasted “game-y?” What else would venison taste like? Did she not know that it was deer, and that deer was classified as “game?” Was she just a moron? Were they all doomed to be talked to death by a moron?

  Thane felt himself starting to doze as he stared glassy eyed at the rim of his goblet so he forced himself to look up and noticed Malachi staring equally glassy eyed off into the distance, fingers occasionally twitching from where they rested around the stem of his goblet, like the leg of a dog who was dreaming. I miss the days when we could keep each other awake through this piffle, Thane thought sadly. Now I will have to keep myself awake and do my best to hum him a lullaby without him noticing. What has happened to the world?

  After the High Lord made the requisite polite noises and questions, he asked Thane about his journey.

  “It was fine, thank you for asking, my lord,” Thane said politely.

  Everyone at the table waited in silent expectation, but Thane just looked mutely at the High Lord until the other man sighed and said with a wry smile, “I’m very glad, Thane” and moved his attention to Malachi, who was by this time, without the endless drone of Lady Ossian in his ears, regaining alertness.

  “And how was your trip, Edmund? How did your lady wife fare?”

  “It was difficult for her, my lord, but we managed, in large part due to your assistance.”

  “So my gift was of help, then?”

  “Very much so, my lord. I can’t even speak as to my gratitude,” Malachi said, with unusual earnestness. Thane looked at him again, surprised to see that his eyes appeared nearly…wet.

  “Yet you have delayed in coming to me,” the High Lord said sadly.

  “My lady’s condition is extremely precarious, my lord. If…circumstances…had not compelled me to bring her, I would not have. But as it is, I could not leave her, and could not stay.” Malachi’s voice was apologetic, but his features had gone hard again. “Once her confinement is over, there would be no issue nor question of my coming, whenever you ask.”

  “I had hoped my gift might allow you to come sooner, if you insisted on placing your lady ahead of your lord and allies, but even that was not sufficient. I am unsure about you these days, Edmund,” the High Lord shook his head, looking woeful.

  Thane glanced around the table and saw every rapt face focused on Malachi, breaths held, all awaiting whatever he would have to say to dispute or dissuade the High Lord’s uncertainty.

  But although Thane knew Malachi better than that, knew he would not be the sort to issue any such defense in front of all these people, he was still equally stunned at the response the man quietly gave: “So am I, my lord.”

  The nobles began to murmur and the High Lord stared at him, bemused.

  “You, too, are unsure of your loyalty? Of your place in this Union, Edmund?” There was surprise and what could almost be called hurt in the velvety voice.

  “I could not leave her,” Malachi said mulishly. “I worried to bring her. You know the circumstances under which I left, my lord. What else could I do? I could not leave her.”

  Something in that refrain, in those suddenly desperate eyes, made Thane think vaguely of when he had decided
against all common sense to bring Kesara, and it made him uncomfortable.

  “I believe Malachi is only uncertain of what was the proper course of action, my lord, I am sure it is nothing to do with loyalty, only with its expression,” Thane volunteered stiffly, immediately hating himself for it. Why did I say that? The man clearly didn’t give a damn about ‘loyalty’ when he sent that pig to my country! He would have suspected the wine was laced with something, only he hadn’t actually drunk any of it.

  “Is that correct, Edmund?” the High Lord asked. Again, the held breaths, the tension, the waiting eyes all turned to Malachi.

  Thane felt Malachi’s eyes on him, even though he refused to meet that gaze. “Yes, my lord,” Malachi said finally. “That is the way of it.”

  “Well, I trust Thane’s judgment in this matter, where I cannot trust yours. This matter can wait for further discussion until we meet privately, Edmund, but I must tell you up front, I am distressed at the turn events have taken lately in your part of the world,” the High Lord said. “Please think on this before we meet again.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  “And how did the journey go for you, Martin?” the High Lord asked pleasantly, and the evening wore on.

  Kesara was carrying a sizable tray back up to Thane’s rooms from the kitchen when she felt something pointy jab her in the back, nearly startling her into dropping it.

  “Taking your lord a snack, little rabbit?” Graunt’s voice came teasingly from behind. “I know all that can’t be for one so scrawny as you. But you should know he isn’t back yet.”

  Kesara moved quickly to turn to her, again more than a little surprised to see Graunt looking so…normal. For normal was the only word for what appeared to be only a hunched, hooded old woman, making her way slowly up the stairs behind her.

  “I saw you in the kitchen, but I thought I shouldn’t say anything,” Kesara said quietly. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to be known there.”