“You can’t be serious, Gaius,” Diamedes said, looking at his old friend and being way too informal in such a public venue. “You’re nearly my age and your sword hasn’t seen the light of day in years.”
“A few years, though I keep in practice. You can’t expect me to lay the huge responsibility of such a quest solely on the shoulders of our good Fist of Astor now, can you?” Orwell asked.
“My lord,” Madalena began, “I am sure that Master Diamedes is correct in saying that your safety is more important at this point. You speak directly for Duke Uthor, and I can’t keep my vow of providing for your safety and security if you insist on placing yourself in danger.”
“Now you’re just fretting, Madalena,” Orwell continued, letting his own informality enter their conversation. “I’ll be just fine, and you heard what the Sword Slayer just said—they will provide the leadership for the hunting party and we shall supplement it. In fact, I suggest we bring our good historian along to chronicle the hunt.”
“You’d place the king’s historian in danger?” Toray said. His remark made sense since he was the ambassador of Tyniria, and technically Diamedes was in the service of King Akula and not Duke Uthor, despite his Ulathan heritage.
“It won’t be the first time that someone placed him in danger,” Orwell stated, looking now at Kaylor.
“You don’t mean to infer . . .” Toray allowed his words to die off, and the room became awkwardly silent.
“I was never in any real danger,” Diamedes offered, hoping to distract the focus from him and the Kesh. “The Balarians had the area well defended, and I actually had a chance to speak to the Draconus.”
“Not that again,” Richtor said, waving his hand at Diamedes.
“Yes, that was most foolish and a good thing we were there to protect you, though my own apprentice paid the price for your safety,” Kaylor said, his voice reasserting itself over the many delegations in attendance. The fight for public opinion continued to rage despite the façade that was being presented on both sides, though more so of the Kesh.
“So what will it be, then?” Arwell said, seeming to finally come out from under the charming spell of the wizard. “Will we have the hunt or not? If so, I’ll not let an old man like the justiciar go alone. Sonrey will be represented as well. I can still wield a sword if need be.”
“You’re too fat to go on such a quest,” Richtor said from his seat at the center of the room, looking at Arwell. “Let the professionals handle this. Seth said he’d go, and I’m sure he can take his female friend with him. Don’t you concur, Makor?”
Makor leaned over, looking at Alyssa and then Seth, and his face took on the appearance of a rodent in a basket of cheese. His grin was so wide, it made Seth sick. “The guild will concur and agree to appoint member Alyssa to this quest if the order makes the same commitment with the Sword Slayer?”
Caesar looked at Seth and waited for a signal. Seth seethed at how easily Makor was ready to throw Alyssa to the wolves again. She had already faced one dragon and was wounded for it, and now he was ready to make her face a second. She was still young by guild standards, though more than competent and deadly, but the act made Seth angry. Seth breathed for a moment and then nodded to Caesar.
Caesar looked to Makor. “The order will assign Seth the Sword Slayer as our representative.”
“Then it’s settled. Balaria has its members, Kesh will provide the wizard, and Ulatha will supplement our troops as well. Agreed?” Richtor asked, pleased with himself and content that he wasn’t involved in the hunt.
“Don’t forget Sonrey,” Arwell said.
“Arwell, you can’t be serious,” Orwell said, looking at the man and sizing his intentions up for such a dangerous quest.
“I am and I will. You won’t claim all the honor for the kill, and besides, I could use the, uh, shall we say, medicinal properties of one of those horns.”
This statement did more to bring a sense of cognition to those who were enthralled by Kaylor’s words. Richtor cleared his throat again, sounding as if he didn’t like not having the final word. “We’ve injured the foul creature, and so it’s time to strike while it’s injured, in its lair, before it can heal and rejuvenate itself.”
“And I shall provide my two warriors from Elos,” Alina spoke.
“They will be most welcome,” Arwell said, giving the younger woman a smile that somehow displeased Seth.
An aide leaned over and whispered into the governor’s ear before he addressed the group again. “We have only a small cutter, however, to transport our heroes . . .”
“That won’t do, so we’ll just have to take the Hammer,” Orwell said, smiling and looking content for the moment. Seth wasn’t sure if the man was also audacious in his abilities, confident or something entirely different.
“So then it’s settled, correct, Kaylor?” Richtor asked the Kesh wizard, his tone lifting in question at the end, pleading for the matter to be decided.
The man leaned on his staff and looked around the room, eyes finally falling on the Ulathan judge before he spoke. “The Hammer it will be, then.”
Chapter 18
Conspiracies
Seth went to the infirmary again to check on Azex and to secure another vial of the healing elixir that he had been taking for his cracked rib. In all, it was still a small price to pay for having driven off the dragon. Seth didn’t like the idea of what damage it could have wrought to Balax had they not injured it severely.
Azex was still in a coma, sleeping it appeared peacefully. Old man Caesar had seen to it that the grandmaster assassin was well protected with not only guards from the civil branch of their government but several of his collegues were in tow in and around his leader’s room, blending in and looking, for all intensive purposes, like normal care staff or support staff. One was even a woman who appeared to be preparing for childbirth, but Seth knew better.
After downing the elixir, Seth felt better and had a nurse rebandage his torso and ribcage tighter with a better fabric. He would need his wits about him and didn’t want to rely on the medicine they had given him to dull the pain. For now it was acceptable, but when they were closer to the dragon’s lair, he would need all of his reflexes in order to prevail.
Alyssa had left to attend to some other business including following up on Krom’s burial arrangements. She had indicated that he would be embalmed and laid to rest for a year on the temple of Akun’s holy altar as a tribute to the cleric. The Akun religious order was big on celebrating death, seeing it as a right of passage into the next world and life. Seth was content to simply live the one he had been given and to die of old age and not something more nefarious.
Walking to his perch and safehouse, Seth found himself observing the harbor once again and pondering the words of the historian. It was too dark the prior evening to see the rogue assassin’s face clearly, though the hiss was enough to unnerve even Seth’s even temperament. Diamedes had said that the creature’s face was reptilian in appearance with red glowing eyes and a serpent-like tongue. That was enough to convince Seth that extra precautions had to be taken if they were dealing with creatures of such an unknown origin. Diamedes had warned that the approach of Dor Akun had done similar strange things in the past and that unusual events should be expected in the coming months.
Seth saw the skiff as it sailed out to the Ulathan man-of-war ship, Hammer, as it prepared to receive its human cargo. The group had agreed that they would depart on the evening tide. The door to the safehouse room creaked open, and Seth was aware that he had a visitor. It could only be one person.
“Hello, Caesar. What brings you here?” Seth said without looking inside the window.
He heard the man’s light footfalls and realized that the old administrator had made noise on purpose so as not to alarm Balaria’s most deadly assassin. The man was also wise. “Good afternoon, Master Seth. I wanted a word with you before you departed.”
Seth turned and looked into the window and the
n sighed, getting up and moving to the sill to sit inside and motioning for Caesar to sit as well. “Go on.”
Caesar sat and looked out the window at the shimmering sea water of the bay and the bustling activity on the docks and in the harbor. “Seems that very few ships will be here tomorrow. Most depart this evening or early on the morrow.”
Seth allowed the man his small talk and nodded. “Aye, the trade will suffer for a short time until we can spread the word that the dragon beast is dead.”
“A fortnight ago, most of us wouldn’t believe there was such a thing, at least not anywhere near here. Perhaps far to the north, or somewhere much less inhabited. You know the crowds have hardly diminished in Merchant’s Square. There is even talk of a new holy order rising from the discovery of these creatures,” Caesar said.
“Surely you jest,” Seth stated.
“I wish I was, but I fear things will change dramatically before too long. That is why I wanted a word with you,” Caesar said, looking intently at Seth.
“I’m listening.”
“Azex should survive his ordeal, though that isn’t etched in stone yet. His fate remains in Agon’s hands. The future of Balaria is something we need to discuss. We have become far too complacent and much too trusting of our Kesh neighbors. It is time we make a change in the triumvirate.” The older man nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the expected response, which didn’t take long.
“Have you gone mad as well?” Seth asked, looking at the older administrator and forcing himself to remember that this man was a lifelong member of his order. Not many in Seth’s line of work lived to see an old age. Seth took a deep breath. “Where are you going with this and what are you planning, Master Caesar? And do not use that term so lightly.”
The formality was not lost on the administrator. He opened his eyes and looked at Seth intently. “Yes, another term we borrowed from the Kesh.” This was said in reference to how the Kesh society was structured with one High-Mage and two Arch-Mages, forming a triumvirate or ruling class of three. Balaria seemed to have adopted that structure centuries ago, or had it forced on them and had forgotten its origins. “I’m referring to our current governing body. It had already changed with the death of Jayrel, and so we must guide the rest of the change or in turn be guided.”
“Azex?” Seth asked, arching a brow. He knew Caesar was very loyal to their leader.
“He can remain, indeed, he must remain. This was his plan all along. However, I’m certain he wasn’t prepared for his incapacitation.”
“You’re telling me that Azex had plans to overthrow our government?” Seth asked, eyes narrowing a bit as he took this all in.
“Not exactly,” Caesar responded. “Azex was part of the ruling class, and he would remain. However, he did not trust the Kesh and felt that our good Governor Richtor had been . . . shall we say, preempted by the wizard class. He wanted to install a new third member of their class.”
“Did Jayrel know?”
“He did, but not what doesn’t matter. What does matter is if Makor knows. Makor was second-in-command, and now he moves to solidify his power. You heard of the news from before dawn?”
Seth felt uncomfortable not knowing what was going on in his own lands, but deferred to his current leader. “No, go on.”
“No one can find Valeria, and Manfred also appears to be missing.”
“But those two ran the guild’s logistics and gambling operations.”
Caesar nodded. “Yes, two of the five key posts within the guild, and both would be prime members to be a new second-in-command should Makor ascend to the guild’s leadership. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I do.” Seth nodded. “With Makor’s two key rivals gone, he can lay a stable claim to his current position as acting guild master. That would solidify his position within the ruling class and make him a key player in Balarian politics. I had no idea he was that ambitious.”
“More than that, he wants someone eliminated.”
Seth raised an eye. “The Kesh wizard?”
“No,” Caesar said. “You.”
“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this, my lord?” Fist Madalena asked as she stood in front of Orwell at the villa while preparations were being made to depart.
“She does have a point, you know,” Diamedes said, supporting the holy warrior.
“Not you too,” Orwell said, standing still and having one of his servants remove his plate armor and then cinch up his leathers over his more utilitarian clothes.
“I just don’t think Duke Uthor would approve,” the small historian added, giving the justiciar a fatherly look.
Orwell sighed but remained firm. “I understand your concerns, but this is too important to pass by. If there is a dragon near here, then it would behoove us to investigate as well. You were always raising those alarms about this dragon species and what we needed to do to prepare, were you not?”
“I did,” Diamedes answered, “but I also had no idea that their existence could be so pervasive and that they seemed to be much more civilized than I had once thought.”
“Nonsense,” Orwell shot back. “They are beasts, no more, and that story you told seems implausible at best.”
“The historian speaks the truth. The creature spoke,” Madalena said, her voice stern yet calm.
“Now, now.” Orwell waved them off. “I’m not suggesting that you two didn’t hear nor see what you think you saw; I’m just questioning how much of the dragon’s speech was intellect and how much was like a parlor trick. Perhaps the beast is like those birds far to the east that can repeat what a man says but can’t speak and reason the same as us.”
“It appeared more than intelligent,” Madalena pressed as Diamedes looked up at her and then back to Orwell, nodding.
“Fine, so it was an intelligent beast that attacked last night. Now what? Do we find it and talk to it or do we kill it?”
“Kill it, of course,” Madalena said, and Diamedes frowned.
“You disapprove?” Orwell looked at Diamedes.
“Well, I felt that if not for the presence of the Kesh, the Draconus may have very well engaged us in conversation.”
Orwell actually put his hand out and stopped his servant from finishing his leather armor cinching. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Diamedes leaned on his other foot and looked to the holy woman first and then back to the Ulathan judge. “Well, I did have a very interesting conversation with one of the Arnen, and he spoke of a conversation that he had with one of the Draconus—”
“You see,” Orwell interrupted the historian, “that is the problem. You talked to one of those nature lovers. They abhor our civilizations and our way of life. Some of them are crazed, I tell you.”
“Duke Uthor supports the Arnen,” Diamedes said, hoping to make his case to the judge.
“Well, Uthor can afford to. His realm encompasses so much land that he needs an occasional caretaker for the wilder parts,” Orwell said.
“So you do support the Arnen?” Diamedes asked.
“I tolerate them, because my leige and lord supports them” Orwell corrected.
Madalena interjected, “Did you say this druid actually spoke to a dragon?”
“Not actually spoke.” Diamedes looked away as if lost in thought or trying to remember a conversation he had long ago. “More like he relayed a conversation he had where the only other party with him was a Draconus. I naturally assumed his conversation was with this creature.”
“What kind of dragon was it?” Orwell asked, looking intently at the small historian.
“Interesting enough, he did mention the Draconus as being green in color,” Diamedes said.
“So now we have multi-colored dragons?” Orwell asked, his voice sounding incredulous.
“I believe him,” Madalena said solemnly.
“Why?” Orwell turned his attention to his bodyguard.
“Because the dragon I saw last night was blue, as b
lue as the sky or as blue as the ocean water. Of that there can be no doubt.”
Orwell looked at his two speaking companions, ignoring his dressing servant for the moment. “Well, that’s just great. Speaking, colorful, intelligent dragons here to engage us in conversation or just eat us. Will this never end?”
“Well . . .” Diamedes started.
“The question was rhetorical, Diamedes.” Orwell looked at the historian for a long few seconds. “Come now, let us put to rest these rumors and find the truth, and let’s do this together. You still agree to accompany us on the quest?”
Diamedes nodded. “Yes. I’m a bit closer to the history that I intend to record, but I think I would like another chance at speaking with that dragon.”
“He is mad,” Madalena said, looking at Diamedes.
“That wasn’t so polite,” Diamedes said in response.
“Neither was the dragon last night,” Madalena said, not missing a beat. “I thought just escaping the fact that you almost became a meal for that serpent would be enough to knock some common sense into that smart head of yours.”
“Have you ever known a servant of Astor to be so . . . so cheeky?” Diamedes asked Orwell, now ignoring the holy warrior.
Orwell rolled his eyes into the back of his head and nodded in agreement. “Oh yes, especially this one. I sometimes wonder what I ever did to Duke Uthor to warrant his appointment to me of Madalena as my bodyguard.”
“It must have been egregious,” the small historian said, nodding as well.
“Not funny, not funny at all,” Madalena said, her voice sounding hurt.
“Well, you’re the one starting things,” Orwell said to her.
“You would too, my lord, if you had seen the beast,” she said.
“Well, enough small talk.” Orwell looked at Diamedes and after a second, Madalena laughed.
Diamedes looked at the two taller companions of his before speaking. “Yes, not funny at all.”
The Blue Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 2) Page 16
