Kolhol regretted the incident, but it was Indem who had picked the fight and then made it a dishonorable one.
"Haggel was indignant after that, but Indem's death marked the end of their friendship," Enrude said. "Dead, he could serve Haggel no more. Why would Haggel ever consider him again?"
Kolhol knew as much, but it was hard for him to remember such ethics. Friends and enemies were each worth remembering. Only a fool . . .
He stopped himself. "I see your point," he said.
"It is Haggel's closeness to Tasche that troubles me most," Enrude said, whispering even more quietly now, as if the walls themselves had ears. Enrude was even older than Kolhol and perhaps a bit too apprehensive these days. Age did that to a man. Which was why Kolhol still fought in tournaments and went on the hunts, and still spent the night testing his stamina with a maiden or two on a regular basis. One day age would defeat him, but not without a fight. And one day Haggel might be king, but not without proving himself, which seemed less likely than ever. As for Tasche . . .
"Tasche?" Kolhol scoffed. "There you worry too much."
"It helps keep us well."
True enough, Kolhol thought, but still he shook his head. "Tasche is a toad at best, a fraud at worst!" he said in a raised voice certain to be heard. He couldn't be sure what rumors were circulating, what amount of poison had been spread to the ears of his court by Tasche, his son, or others who might have reason. Then he lowered his voice again, and turned his head to Enrude's ear. "He and Haggel deserve each other, but I doubt the two of them could rout a clutch of angry children without taking casualties."
"Your son is your problem, but it would grow smaller if you were to have Tasche beheaded in the meantime."
A proper solution, Kolhol thought, but without any court wizard at all he lacked an effective deterrent against every hedge witch, alchemist and apprentice mage that lurked in the shadows. Tasche is at least better than nothing, Kolhol thought. Though in truth even that small wisdom was becoming hard to accept. Kolhol belched eggs and bread and gulped down the smoked herring that had just been warmed and set before him. When he was finished, he summoned the servants back and waited while the table was cleared.
Next the king sat back while one of his barons and a steward approached the table, bringing news of renewed flooding in his region—a problem in eastern Grenarii this spring, but one Kolhol had thought was passed. He promised to send men to help in any way they could.
Others waited to see him next, the day was off to a good and rolling start.
But it got no further before a young page came running into the hall with news that the scaffolding had given way on the new tower, and most of the masons had fallen to their deaths. A tiny fish bone stabbed at the roof of Kolhol's mouth, punctuating the report. He winced, then he spit on the floor. A truly fine day already, Kolhol lamented, for the second time. "Ale!" he shouted to the servants nearby—perhaps it was close enough to midday after all.
* * *
"The old bastard!" Haggel snarled, kicking at the chair nearest to him as he strode into the upstairs counting room, where Tasche sat waiting. No one else was about. Haggel spent a moment examining Tasche, the table, the floor, letting his blood boil down, then he sat with a thump.
"Your father is well?" Tasche asked, boorishly. He pawed at his beard, which was thin below his chin from constant wear.
"The fittest fool in the land," Haggel snorted. "By the time he decides he is ready to take Briarlea, he and Andair will be dead of old age, and I will be too old to care."
Tasche laughed, though it was not a sound Haggel particularly enjoyed, so breathy and hollow, and especially odd coming from a man whose head seemed a bit small for his body—a body that was most distinctly a plump blob. Haggel shrugged off much about Tasche. He wasn't much to look at or listen to, but he had other traits Haggel found valuable.
"You can laugh, but I cannot. I am more than ready to take my place at my father's side, and Grenarii's army is past ready to crush whatever forces Andair can put to the field. Wait, and one day they will come for us instead. Yet he sits, and he waits."
Tasche kept grinning, a small grin on a small, round face. "Which is why we are not!"
Haggel nodded. Well, that was the plan. A plan that was nothing short of extraordinary, and one he and Haggel had been hatching for more than a year now. It involved a spell that Tasche had been working on for many years, as far as Haggel knew. Something that was sure to put an end to his father's stranglehold on progress, one way or another. Haggel didn't care which way, not anymore. He had feelings for his father, probably at least as many as his father had for him, but if conquering Worlish and seizing the glory that would come with it could only be had by sending his father to his well-deserved rest among his ancestors and the gods, well, that was his father's choice. And the will of the gods, no doubt.
"You will be well rewarded," Haggel said, grinning back at his accomplice, "if you can do what you say."
To which Tasche grinned all the more, until his eyes seemed to close. "I am nearly ready," he said. "As soon as we can find someone who is fitting, I will be able to begin."
"I am less worried about my father and even Andair than I am about Gentaff. Are you sure we can stand against him?"
"You worry too much about him."
"My father fears him too, I think."
"I am Gentaff's equal," Tasche scoffed, pulling nervously at his beard again. "I am eager for the chance to prove it."
Haggel nodded. "There is much each of us will prove to those who doubt."
Tasche grinned again.
The cost would be high, but acceptable. Soldiers were trained to fight and die, after all. Even while Gentaff was reputed to be one of the world's great mages, it was hard to imagine him being much the better of Tasche. Haggel had seen him work, and before Tasche he had known several others, court wizards to his father. Tasche was easily their better, and no doubt Gentaff's. The spell Tasche had been building to ensure their victory against all who opposed them, including Andair and his famous sorcerer, was more incredible than any Haggel could have hoped for.
"We must give Grenarii a leader with the will to lead," Haggel said as he got to his feet, to no one in particular, to everyone in the world.
"It so happens, I know precisely who that is," Haggel said, as the two of them stood together, then turned and left the counting room. They headed toward the spiral staircase at the end of the hall. "The only question had been when. A question that will soon enough have an answer."
So be it, Haggel thought. After all, his father had enjoyed a good and glorious life—hadn't he? How many times had the king himself said that nothing of value comes without some kind of payment. Which, Haggel accepted, meant someone had to pay, though he recalled no specific mention of who had to pay. . . .
"I have knowledge of a man," Tasche said, still pulling the tips of his beard as they walked. "He wishes to meet with us in secret, but I am told he can be relied upon to provide what we need, for the right price."
"Just the man we have been looking for."
"I think so. He travels everywhere. It is said that if anyone knows where to find the sort of person we are looking for, it is he. With your leave, I will send a messenger to him."
"A swift messenger. I have a strong hunger for action, and I do not wish to wait to satisfy it, or wait and miss the best chance we have."
"You are young, my prince," Tasche said, though he bowed respectfully as he spoke. "Even if . . ."
"And you are old," Haggel said, sneering long enough to be sure Tasche would see. "Are you making excuses already?"
"I am not sure what I meant," Tasche yielded.
"Forget it. Let me know the instant we are ready."
Tasche bowed again and tried to let Haggel go first down the stairs. But as Haggel started down it occurred to him that there was no sensible reason for him to go first.
"After you," Haggel said.
"No, after you, my lord,"
Tasche said.
Haggel thought he was probably making something out of nothing, but that was preferable to taking chances. After all, if a father could not trust his only son, who could the son truly trust?
"I insist," he said, and held there until Tasche nodded and went ahead of him instead.
With his mind at ease again, Haggel reflected further on the messenger idea, and managed to turn the whole idea around in his mind, where it presented him with a more appealing possibility. "Tasche, I was just thinking, why wait for a messenger to go?" he said.
"Why not?"
There was barely enough room in the hallway for the two of them to go side-by-side, and Tasche had a way of swaying and tossing his bulk with each step as he walked, causing one to be bumped intermittently by undulating flesh. Haggel opted to continue walking half a step behind.
"It will take a long and boring time, which I have had enough of, that is why. We will have to decide many things once he returns in any case, after which we will have to decide what to do, then perhaps what to do after that."
Tasche stopped in his tracks and pivoted enough to display a completely puzzled look. Haggel shook his head in frustration. "Where can we find this informant of yours?"
"He is a traveler, which is what makes him valuable, but he can often be found in a village in Worlish. The messenger we chose—"
"All the better."
"Better for what?"
"We will need sufficient gold, proper clothing, a few men who can be trusted and then a false reason for our absence." Haggel let a grin find his lips as the idea bloomed and grew enormous in his mind—and showed its many shades of danger, exhilaration, glory!
"What are you saying?" Tasche asked.
Haggel focussed. Tasche looked ill. He would get over it. "Forget the messenger," Haggel said. "We are going ourselves."
* * ** * *
Enrude entered the bath followed by two pages, both carrying large painted pottery jugs filled with hot water. Once the water had been poured carefully around the king into the stone bath, further warming the water already there, the pages were sent away.
"What is it?" Kolhol asked. "You have that look on your face."
"What look?"
"The one that means you've got something worrisome to tell me."
"Very well, I thought you should know that Haggel and the wizard Tasche have taken leave of the castle. They took only a small guard with them and left no word as to where or why they left."
"I can think of very few reasons why this might matter to me or anyone else, though I suppose it should, and there are those few."
"I wondered whether you wanted them followed?"
"Unnecessary," Kolhol replied, waving his wash cloth dismissively. "He has been his own man for some years now, and gone off on his own often enough. If it was an honorable mission he would brag about it, tell me at least, but he does not."
"That proves nothing."
"Perhaps. Be sure I am told the moment they return. While they are gone, I intend to interrogate some of my lords and squires, so as to know the lay of things with them. If Haggel and Tasche are up to something, there will be those in their camp who will run to ours once confronted."
"Do you worry that Haggel may be forging too many alliances?" Enrude asked.
"No," Kolhol said. "Though I will ask. Yet there is a greater question. Perhaps in spite of himself the boy is right in one thing: I do want to take Worlish. It must be done, sooner or later, but I do not want to send half my army to their deaths in the effort. So I have been waiting until I could field a force large enough, all of them well trained and able to do what they must, and for a sorcerer who I am sure will be Gentaff's match. Yet I may never find such a mage, and if I wait too long my army will grow overready and become a hazard to itself."
"As you say," Enrude replied.
No fool, that Enrude, Kolhol thought, not for the first time. "One other thing."
Enrude waited attentively.
"See if you can find that wench I spent the night with four days past. I fear she is in need of a bath as well."
Enrude kept his visage in order as he nodded, bowed, and swept back out of the room.
* * *
Tasche led the way as they crossed the border on horseback well to the east of the Lengree River. Under cover of darkness they entered the northernmost province of Worlish, part of the region known as Briarlea.
The four men Haggel had brought along were well-armed and loyal to their prince, and the sort that seldom asked any questions, which was something Haggel prized. He would have preferred to go alone—just he and Tasche—but a few good swords would be needed if all went as planned, and they could be handy to have about in any case. Haggel was eager to fight, but not the least bit eager to die like a fool.
As they walked the road beneath the overcast sky, barely able to see, Haggel grew anxious over the thoughts that kept running through his head. So many choices, chances and possibilities. But how could he choose a path without knowing where it might lead? He knew what he wanted, and he had every confidence in himself for when the time came, and that would be enough. But that still left him with nothing to do in the meantime except plod along on horseback while thinking about it all, until . . .
His horse stumbled in an unseen hole in the road. He feared it might go lame, but it began walking again without any apparent problem. "Are we there yet?" he asked, not for the first time. But it had been a while.
"No," Tasche said. "Must I repeat myself? It should be nearly sunrise when we meet him. Until then, I suggest we each keep quiet. The horses' hooves make more than enough noise without any help from us."
Yours in particular, Haggel thought. The rather presumptuous Tasche was mounted on one of the king's strongest horses, yet even that brute gelding seemed to be having a time of it carrying Tasche's ridiculous weight. The man practically spilled over either side of the poor animal, and his legs were twice as thick as the horse's. He thought to levy an insult or two, but restrained himself under the circumstances. He didn't want to get into a pissing contest with a sorcerer in the dark of an enemy's lands. Not that Haggel was afraid of who might overhear them, but again, why tempt fate? "How far off would you say sunrise is?" Haggel asked.
"Not far," Tasche said dryly.
The walking went on for what seemed a very long time. Haggel thought it might go faster if they could talk, but without any real exchange required; idle chatter, at least for now, was probably ill-advised. So instead he daydreamed, and mumbled to himself a little, until they rounded a bend in the road and Haggel saw a small fire burning a little more than a hundred paces away. No one was about, but just behind the fire stood the remains of a cottage—three walls and a mostly fallen in roof.
"There," Tasche said.
"It's still dark," Haggel muttered.
"It doesn't matter," Tasche said. "We have found him."
CHAPTER TEN
The fire went out, kicked over with dirt, leaving Haggel and everyone else straining to see even vague shapes in the dark.
"Rather a secretive one, aren't you?" Tasche said, a distinct air of mockery in his tone.
"I am, that I am," the other replied, almost chuckling.
Already he sounded too arrogant for Haggel's tastes and he didn't like the look of this. He could tell the stranger—the informer—was not young and not a brute, and apparently alone, yet despite being outnumbered six to one he didn't seem worried. Likely that only made him a fool. But you never knew about these kinds, these supposedly clever kinds. You never knew what they might be thinking or plotting. Although, you could always ask. . . .
"Why go to the trouble? What are you afraid of?" the prince asked.
"It is for the best," the informer answered. "Best for all, that I remain a stranger. As for being afraid, I am afraid of the usual kinds of things, I suppose, but what can be done?"
"How can we trust information from one who will not trust us with his identity?" Haggel countered.
"And another thing—what makes you think we won't just take you prisoner until we learn who you are?" Just the right question, Haggel thought, smiling to himself at the informer's silent pause.
"If you do that, you will not get the information you want. But if you simply pay me, listen to what I tell you, and then we go about our business, both our needs will be met, and you will learn soon enough that what I tell you is the truth. For now, you can call me Friend; I am the closest thing to that you will find in this land."
"Very well, Friend, let us do our business," Tasche said, cutting Haggel off before he could respond again. Which he was just about to.
"You offer a great price," their Friend said. "What would you know in return?"
Haggel stood silent, sorting things out. He still didn't know how to take this one. But this might go on all night unless they moved on. "Tell him, Tasche," he said.
"I was about to," Tasche said sharply. "We are in need of an adept," Tasche continued. "Not a trickster, mind you, but one with a true born talent. But not one so powerful or so well guarded as to be unreachable, or uncontrollable. We are prepared for most anything, but I do not want this to be any more difficult than it has to be."
"And what would you do with this . . . adept?" the other asked.
"That is none of your concern," Tasche said.
"It is if you want me to hand you such a person. I must know what is to become of him. I need to know if this person you seek will come to harm. I trade throughout the land, and I do not like to lose customers, or their mages. Besides, gold spends much better on a clear conscience."
Now he was talking nonsense. Haggel drew his sword and stepped toward the informer, and the four soldiers with him quickly followed. He extended the tip of the blade until it hovered near his new Friend's chest. "If you want to live, you will tell."
"No," Tasche said, waving at Haggel. "He is right, if we kill him we may have the gods' own time finding another like him; it took long enough to come up with this one. I can persuade him without damaging him too badly, I think. And I believe he knows that."
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