“Actually, it was more like he was waiting for me. He knew who I was. Seemed to know everything about me. He wanted me to infiltrate the Court. He said he knew about…” A bleak look filled his eyes. “He said he knew there was a man named Marduk who was going to take the throne and he had to be stopped. But we were too late. Things had been set in motion long before our conversation on the darkened street. By the time I had figured out the knot of things, it was too late. And now a sorcerer and a murderer sits on the throne.”
The crackling of the fire filled in the silence as he watched the flames dance. Clara almost didn’t want to ask but had to. Taking a cloth, she wiped the slate clean, and wrote, “What happened then?” She touched his arm gently.
Turning, he looked at the slate. “Ah. Well. There were more than a few Guards and soldiers who didn’t want to see a sorcerer king. But there wasn’t the usual last surviving Heir to rally them. No, Marduk was quite crafty in killing off anyone who could claim a Blood Tie. But Emmerich rallied them. We went north and over the past two years we have gathered an army.”
She hurriedly wrote out another question. “What happened to Emmerich’s family?”
“I don’t know. Emmerich doesn’t talk much about his family.”
“What happened to yours?”
“Da and the others went to Tier. He talked about crossing the sea but Da has a penchant for talking up something and then never doing it. What about you? Can you tell me?” He poured himself more wine.
Clara took a deep breath and wiped the slate clean. She stared at it a long moment, then wrote, “My parents couldn't afford to pay their rent. So, they sold me. Eventually, I was brought here. There isn't much else to tell.” She held it up for him, thinking how the last line wasn't true, but she couldn't think of a way to describe the horror of those days on the road, how her voice dried away to nothing.
“Well,” said Gavin, “I am glad you're here.”
Gavin had given her a lot to think about over the next two days. When a vision startled her awake (blood and screams and a man in spiked armor striding into an empty hall, cries of victory in his wake), she laid in her bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling as she wondered what the truth would cost her. The chance for freedom? A flogging?
She had no choice but to bring the lord news, because he was running out of patience. But the truth? Remembering Gavin's words regarding intention, and the need for her to be free, she slowly sat up and wrote the exact opposite of what she saw.
After Lily unchained her and she dressed, Clara rushed down to the audience chamber where she knew Lord Dwervin was preparing for the day's audiences.
As she approached, she heard, “Get this man out of my sight!”
Clara winced from the bellow. The audience room door flew open and two guards dragged away a servant. She watched them go and turned, looking into the room. Lord Dwervin, face red from anger, stood in the room’s center.
“Well?” he demanded. “Come in!”
Two days after New Year’s, the lord still suffered from a hangover.
Clara scurried in and the guards closed the door behind her. Martin jammed his fists on his hips and glared at her.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
Trembling, she held out her slate, which he snatched from her hand. As he read the vision, the anger drained from him and his shoulders relaxed. The scowl relaxed into a cocky half-smile.
He looked up at her. “Very good. You’ve finally earned your keep.” Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped the slate and handed it to her. “There isn’t much detail in that, but, no matter.” He reached up and touched a wisp of hair dangling by her cheek. “Though I have to admit to feeling a little disappointed.”
Turning, he gestured to the steward and they began to talk about the remaining rations. Realizing she was dismissed, Clara hurried out.
Chapter Ten
Marduk looked up at the sound of the door opening. A wizard in a dark robe and wearing the emerald belt of the Brethren entered the study and knelt.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “the Sisters have sent a new candidate.”
“Just the one?” Marduk rolled up the parchment he had been reading and handed it to the page standing at his elbow. “Take that to Emerson, dear boy.” The boy bowed and left at a quick trot.
“Yes, your Majesty,” the wizard replied. “A young man. They also send their apologies but it has been a difficult month, what with the new plague that has broken out in the poor section.”
Marduk grimaced. “Send the Sisters my deepest sympathies—and our best Healers. We need that plague cured before it enters the City proper. Or, better still, before it kills more people in the poor section.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“Where is the candidate?”
“Just outside, my liege.”
“Bring him in and then you may go.”
“Yes, my liege.”
The wizard stood and went to the door, gesturing for the man to enter. The candidate was short (most likely from years of malnutrition) and his hair was an unnatural rust red. His small, dark eyes darted around the room as he entered. Stopping a respectful distance from the desk where Marduk sat, he sank to his knees. The ratty clothing hanging from his thin frame stood in stark contrast to the opulence surrounding them.
“What's your name, boy?” Marduk asked, his voice gentle.
“Patrick, your Majesty,” came the soft reply, barely above a whisper.
“You don't need to fear me. Come. Sit in one of the chairs.” He nodded at the two chairs in front of the desk. “Are you hungry? Shall I order some food?”
“If-if it pleases the King.” But the mention of food brought a wild, hungry look to his face, which he barely suppressed as he stood and sat in one of the chairs.
“It does.” Marduk rang the hand bell on the desk. In a moment, the servant door opened and a maid entered, curtsying. “Bring whatever is ready in the kitchens for our friend here.”
The maid curtsied again and left, casting a fearful glance over her shoulder at the young boy. After the door closed, no one said anything for a long moment. Marduk evaluated Patrick, while he covertly looked around the room, not meeting the King's eyes.
“Be at ease,” Marduk said, finally. “You're not in any trouble. What did the Sisters tell you before they sent you?”
“They, they said I was chosen for something.”
“Did they give any indication of what that something was?”
Patrick shook his head.
“Well, then.” He sat forward and clasped his hands on the surface of the desk. “I'll tell you, then. When I became King, I swore the Sacred Oath. Are you aware of it?”
Patrick shook his head again.
“The Sacred Oath is sworn by every Sovereign who takes the Throne in Lorst. We swear to take care of our people, to make sure they are clothed and fed and safe. Not all Sovereigns take that Oath seriously. But I took it after our beloved King Tristan and his daughter were murdered. The whole city was in chaos. Fear ran rampant in the streets. Do you remember those days?”
Marduk's earnest tone drew Patrick's eyes up and he nodded. “I do, my liege. Those were horrible days.”
“Yes, they were. We were betrayed by those we trusted most. We were struck to the core by those who were supposed to protect us. In the midst of all of that, the Council came to me and begged me to take the Throne. Not only because there wasn't anyone of the Blood left, but because they knew I had a vision.” He stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked around the desk to stand at the corner nearest Patrick.
“A vision, my liege?” asked Patrick, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Yes. A vision of a better Lorst. A strong Lorst. A Lorst that doesn't have to fear its enemies any longer, or fear a knife in the safe confines of its borders.” He smiled. “A Lorst remade. And, one day, a remade world. One where we are all safe and free.”
Patrick swallowed and slowly looked dow
n. “I don't know how I can be of help, your Majesty.”
“Now that is where you're wrong, my friend. You are perfect. We need you, in fact. We can't do it without you.”
The boy's eyes returned to Marduk. “Me, your Majesty?”
“Yes. You.” At that moment, the servant door opened and the maid returned with a laden tray. “But, first, let’s get some food in you and then, I'll take you to where you'll be of the greatest help.”
He smiled brightly as the tray was set on the desk in front of him. At an encouraging nod from Marduk, Patrick dug into the food with a messy glee. Marduk's lip curled a little but he quickly hid his disgust.
“I'll be back in a moment.”
The boy only grunted in response as Marduk walked away, opening the door and whispering to the guard outside, “Fetch me Captain Jarrett.”
“Yes, your Majesty.” The guard saluted and quickly strode away.
Marduk returned to his desk and went back to looking through papers while the boy ate and drank to his heart's content. Finally, after what felt like an age, the door opened again and Jarrett entered.
“You called for me, your Majesty,” he said, stopping behind Patrick's chair and bowing.
“I did,” replied Marduk. “We have a new candidate. I thought you would escort us.”
“It would be my pleasure, your Majesty.”
“Are you ready to go, Patrick?”
The boy greedily slurped down the last of the wine and nodded, belching. His already dirty tunic sported new stains. He wiped his face with his sleeve as he stood. Marduk also stood.
“Then, this way.”
If Patrick was nervous about entering an underground complex, he didn't show it. Instead, his eyes slowly took on the glassy stare brought on by the drugs in his wine. Jarrett supported him as his feet began to drag against the floor.
They entered a menagerie of strange beasts, passing cages where too-intelligent eyes watched them. Across the room, something gave a coughing growl. They passed tall cages filled with trees, where something bright blue darted among the leaves, on their way to a small door. Marduk ran a hand over the door, muttering.
With a shudder, the door swung open, revealing a small, round chamber hewn roughly from the bedrock. A circle of braided gold and silver was set into the center of the rough, rock floor. In the middle of the circle sat a small chest on a pedestal. Though the room was lit by several of the smokeless lanterns, the shadows in the corners were thick and impenetrable.
On the walls were painted in blue and black wards and other sigils of containment, interspersed with precious stones.
A wizard awaited them.
“Erin,” said Marduk. “Is everything ready?”
“It is, my liege.”
“We're going to try something new today. Jarrett, if you will.”
Jarrett shoved Patrick, sending him stumbling into the circle. He dropped with a heavy grunt onto the floor. Jarrett drew his sword.
“You won't need that,” said Marduk.
“If it's all the same to you, your Majesty, I would like to be prepared.”
Marduk shrugged in answer as he took a book from Erin. “Very well. We all need our good luck charms.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
He opened the book and began to chant while Erin set some herbs in a bowl to smolder. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the shadows in the room deepened and a cold, damp chill stole across the air. A pale blue light exuded from the box, reaching out to the boy and engulfing him.
Patrick twitched and moaned. Marduk picked up the pace of his chant, sweat beading his brow as he concentrated on the image in his mind. Patrick screamed as his flesh rippled. The wet sound of joints popping filled the room as his body contorted unnaturally. Cloth tore as fur rippled over him and the light intensified until it hid him.
Slowly, Marduk's chant wound down and the light lessened, easing back into the box. In Patrick's place laid a mound of shaggy, rusty red fur which slowly shifted as the creature stumbled to its six feet. It looked like a bear but it had long fangs protruding over his lips and his eyes were blood red.
The creature made a coughing noise, its mouth working. The eyes rolled in panic as it looked down itself. A blood-curdling scream erupted from its throat. Jarrett twitched but Marduk and Erin smiled.
“Isn't he beautiful?” shouted Marduk over the second scream, watching the creature turning in a circle and shaking, as if trying to wake from a nightmare.
“Very, your Majesty,” replied Erin. “But rather loud, I think.”
“Silence!” barked Marduk.
The creature quieted, wincing away from Marduk.
“You will go with this man,” the King said, pointing at Jarrett. “Jarrett, take the creature to its cage. I'm sure you know where the strange bears go.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” replied Jarrett, sheathing the sword. “Come along.”
He opened the door and stepped out, the creature following. As it got to the door, it tripped over its feet and sprawled to the floor.
Marduk laughed. “Isn't that precious? Like a newborn learning how to walk.”
The creature groaned, stumbling up. Tears tracked down its muzzle.
“Come on,” repeated Jarrett.
“Be gentle, Captain. He's new, after all.” Marduk laughed again.
Jarrett left the menagerie feeling the desperate need to clean himself. But he had other duties to perform. As he entered the Academy, he smiled at the children in the halls. Many of them stood in clumps and talked with eager voices. They were between classes and were waiting for the next bell. Jarrett nodded at a few youngsters he knew who also served as pages in their off time.
After going down a few corridors, he entered a laboratory, where a wizard wiped down a slate board.
“Bruin,” he said in greeting. “How go classes today?”
“As they usually do, I suppose. Those that aren't bored with tears pepper me with questions they should already know the answers to.”
“Oh, it can't be that bad.”
“So says the man who's never taught in a classroom.”
“I teach self-defense to some of the noblewomen.”
“Not the same thing, I fear.” He tossed his rag aside. “What brings you?”
“The King wishes to know how the translation is going.”
“Slowly. But we're making real progress. I'm sure we'll crack it by the time the lady arrives.”
“Good. Good.” He looked at Bruin significantly.
The wizard raised his hands and they glowed softly as he spoke a few words under his breath. Slowly, he lowered his hands. “Now. What brings you?”
Jarrett sighed and leaned against one of the tables. “He remade another one today.”
Bruin grimaced. “That's the third this week.”
“He needs breeders. No doubt the poor thing is rutting with every female he can get to.”
“And those females will gestate at an alarming rate, give birth, and it'll start all over again. Do you know where he's shipping them to, once the offspring are trained?”
“I think he's stationing them in different places over the country, in preparation for the Rebel army forming in the North.”
“And you're sure Emmerich is the general?”
“Absolutely. All the spies agree.”
“And you're sure he didn't murder the Princess in cold blood?”
“I know Emmerich, Bruin. He's a good man. And, for all his faults, he was involved with the Princess. He wouldn't have just killed her. No. The only solution is that she attacked him and he defended himself.”
“So you say.”
“You doubt me?”
“Much happens under the fog of war that rational men would not do at any other time.”
Jarrett grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “I'd rather not think like that.”
Bruin sighed. “I'm sorry, Jarrett. You have to watch Marduk make those creatures and here I am, filling your m
ind with doubts.”
“It's all right. You have a right to have such concerns.”
“Hmm.”
They didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, Jarrett said, “Have you discovered yet why Marduk wants the lady?”
“Not from what I can discover. I'm not even sure what's in that damn chest. He's broken that spell up among different members of the faculty, sworn each of us on our magic to maintain secrecy save to our contact. And everyone has a different contact. With the information so scattered, there's no telling what the purpose of the spell is supposed to be, and how it relates to the Lady Seer. We only know she is integral.”
Jarrett swore under his breath.
“I concur.”
“Do you think she can be brought over?”
“I don't think we should approach her until we know she's safe. Who knows what sort of enchantment Marduk will have her under when he brings her here?”
“Can you arrange something?”
“Like what?”
Jarrett gave a little half-smile. “I'll let you know when I think of something.”
Bruin chuckled. “You do that. You know I'll do anything for the Rebellion. Just keep your spirits up, Jarrett. We need you.” He walked up to him and clasped his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Don't give into despair.”
“You don't see them, Bruin, after the spell. They know they've become something different. Some embrace it. Most don't. But they all scream at first.” He shook his head. “Curdles a man's blood.”
“It'll be over soon.”
“I hope so, my friend. I hope so.”
Chapter Eleven
As winter waned, the snows let up and melted. Dwervin's building projects restarted. Scaffolds sprung up on the sides of the walls as men repaired chinks in the mortar while others saw to reinforcing the drawbridge and adding sharpened stakes to the sides of the moat. The grey walls and surrounding grounds crawled with sudden life.
As the first shoots of spring began to struggle from the ground (and the first of many funerals began), the people of Dwervinton began to half-heartedly celebrate the many weeks of Carnival, leading to the season of penance. If one looked closely enough, men stood in knots during the evening festivities, growing quiet if a soldier walked by.
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