“That woman will drive me insane,” scowled Atule. “What have I ever done to her that she can treat me this way?”
Eulena raised an eyebrow at the wizard of the jungle. “Crystil?”
“Who else would be constantly taunting me as if I had chosen myself to be emperor of the world? What right does she have to judge me?”
“I have never seen her act this way towards anyone,” frowned Eulena. “Crystil is normally very quiet. She seldom speaks unless she has something to offer.”
“Well, she certainly doesn’t spare her tongue on me. I have taken all the snide remarks that I care to take. If she doesn’t like the way I dress or the way I walk, she can take it up with someone else because I will not go anywhere near her any more. I have had enough.”
“What was she on about today?”
“She was mocking my bald head, as if her aged strands were anything to look at. She actually had the nerve to chastise me for not taking care of my hair when I was younger. As if that would have affected my baldness. What rubbish. I could easily have hair if I wanted.”
Eulena tried to hide her smile, but she had to turn her back to Atule instead. Just then the rear door to the shop opened and Bacar stepped in. Eulena smiled at the warrior thief.
“Word is spreading all over the city,” Bacar announced. “By this time tomorrow, everyone will know about the new healing shop in Farmin.”
“That is quick work,” commented the elven healer. “How are you spreading the word?”
“We have hundreds of people out and about,” answered Bacar. “What is the old woman doing with those pillars?”
“Crystil?” asked Eulena. “She is probably setting up a ward of protection. I suspect she intends to keep vermin away from the shop.”
“By erecting pillars?” balked the thief. “I can’t believe that would work.”
“It worked well enough in Smirka,” replied Eulena. “There her pillars also kept out unwanted people. She knows what she is doing.”
Bacar nodded and reached for the door to leave. “I just wanted you to know about our spreading the word. Expect the customers to start coming in the morning.”
“Thank you, Bacar,” smiled Eulena as the thief left the room.
Eulena turned back to Atule and found him staring at the floor with his mouth hanging open. He moved slowly towards a chair and slumped into it. Eulena rushed towards him to check his heart, but the wizard waved her away.
“Are you ill?” asked Eulena. “Do you feel all right?”
“Crystil of Smirka,” Atule said in a whisper. “I cannot believe it.”
“What can’t you believe?” asked the elf. “Have you heard of her before?”
“Heard of her?” echoed Atule. “I loved her. No wonder she belittles me.”
“You loved her?” asked Eulena.
Atule sighed heavily and nodded. “We were betrothed a long, long time ago.”
“Betrothed?” echoed Eulena. “And you do not even remember her?”
“It was hundreds of years ago,” scowled Atule, “and she doesn’t look anything like the Crystil I knew. My Crystil was the most beautiful woman to ever walk among the living. How could I possibly equate that old hag outside to my Crystil?”
“What happened?” asked Eulena.
“It is a long story,” sighed Atule. “We were madly in love, but we were both stubborn as rocks. I wanted to travel the world; she wanted to settle down and raise a family. I wanted to reach for the stars; she wanted to dig in the soil. As much as we loved one another, we discovered that we could not live with one another. The relationship turned stormy as we each tried to persuade the other to see the light. Eventually, we drifted apart. That was ages ago.”
“She still remembers you,” smiled Eulena as she saw Crystil quietly enter the room by sliding apart the curtains behind Atule.
“And she is angry that I do not remember her.” Atule nodded in understanding. “I cannot blame her for that, no matter how many years it has been. I wonder if she ever raised a family?”
“And how could I have raised a family when my husband never returned to me?” Crystil asked bitterly.
Atule whirled around in his chair and stared at the old hag. “Husband?” he bellowed. “We were never married.”
“A technicality,” scowled Crystil. “I once told you that I would never love another. Unlike some of us, I mean what I say.”
“That is unfair. I truly did love you, but you were obstinate. It had to be your way or no way at all. What was I supposed to do?”
“Obviously, you were supposed to build yourself an ivory tower in the midst of the jungle and surround yourself with thousands of young women. Have you told each of them that you love them as well?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I do not have time to associate with the Rhodans. I have allowed them sanctuary within my jungle. That is all. And what if I have loved others? What of it? We had our opportunity long ago.”
“An opportunity that you walked away from,” retorted Crystil. “You abandoned me, Atule. Do you expect me to ever forget that?”
“Yes, I do. That was hundreds of years ago. Forget it! We were different people back then. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but look at you now? You are as ugly now as you were beautiful then.”
Crystil’s eyes narrowed in anger as she glared at Atule. With a snap of her fingers the old hag’s form shimmered and disappeared. In its place a beautiful woman appeared. Gone was the stringy hair, the hunched back, and the warts on her face. Crystil stood straight and tall, long black hair flowing down her back. Her skin was smooth and velvety, no longer wrinkled and parched by years under the sun. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and a perfect nose perched over a sensuous smile. Atule’s eyes grew large as he stared at his former lover. His mouth fell open, but he was speechless. He reached out with a hand to touch Crystil’s arm, but she backed away. With another snap of her fingers, the visage of the youthful Crystil disappeared. The old hag returned.
“Beauty is not merely for your eyes, Atule. The true beauty of a person resides deep within. You try to impress others with your wealthy attire and your snobbish demeanor, but you really don’t fool anyone at all. At least not for long. As soon as they get to know you, the truth reveals itself.”
“Beauty is something to be shared with others. Why do you hide your beauty under this abomination?”
“My people love me for who I am, not who I appear to be. You would not understand.”
Crystil turned and left the room. Atule stared at the moving curtains until they stopped swaying. He turned to Eulena and shook his head.
“I didn’t understand her then, and I don’t understand her now. Why does she hide such beauty?”
“I cannot be certain,” answered the elf, “but I believe that she thinks you loved her only for her looks. Perhaps by hiding her beauty she feels that no one will ever be able to fool her again.”
“Such nonsense,” retorted Atule. “It was not her looks that I adored.”
“Wasn’t it? She changed her appearance just to see your reaction. I am sorry, Atule, but you practically drooled over her beauty. Perhaps it was just the shock of seeing her as she used to be, but I suspect that Crystil will take a different meaning from it.”
“It hardly matters any more,” sighed Atule. “Neither of us is what we used to be, and we are unlikely to survive whatever Fakir Aziz has in store for us. There is precious little time to dwell upon the past.”
Chapter 17
Lies and Deceit
Tedi and Natia walked through the Door from the dwarven city of Tarashin. They headed directly to King Arik’s study, but they stumbled across Alex and Jenneva along the way.
“Have you come for Fredrik’s funeral?” asked Jenneva.
The gypsy prince nodded. “We came as fast as we could, but we were in the middle of moving the last of the elven children out of Aranak. Did we miss the funeral?”
“No,” answered Alex. �
��The funeral is going to be a very quiet affair. Only the Knights of Alcea will attend, but not all of them could break away immediately. Bin-lu and Rut-ki are in Lanoir escorting two of the Federation colonels, and Wylan and Natia are doing the same here in Targa. They should all be ending their journeys tomorrow. The funeral will be held the day after.”
“How is Niki handling it?” asked Natia.
“I worry about her,” replied Jenneva. “The first couple of days were the worst, but she is still despondent. She has had nightmares every night and that usually results in havoc among the animal kingdom. If you find rats swarming through the corridors, stay out of their way. They run to comfort Niki and then flee when she wakes up screaming.”
“Every night?” frowned Natia. “Isn’t there anything we can do for her?”
“I have tried,” sighed Jenneva. “I can put her to sleep, but that is all. She doesn’t want to talk about the death of Fredrik or anything else. She has shut everyone out and deals with her misery alone.”
“That is not healthy,” sighed the gypsy princess. “I will try to get through to her.”
Jenneva smiled and nodded in thanks. Tedi seemed anxious to change the subject. He turned to Alex.
“How is everything going with the Federation colonels?”
“Pretty good,” answered Alex. “We have managed to make contact with each group. Most of the contacts were just in passing, but the groups out of Mya and Chi were treated differently. Our people actually traveled with those two groups for several days. I think our tales of weakness will certainly reach the generals of our enemy. Now we have to work on the lowly soldiers of the Federation. We have to devise ways to make them fear the coming war.”
“Without revealing too much about our potential strategies,” added Jenneva.
“We also need to find a quick way to eliminate the armies coming from Danver Shores,” continued Alex.
“Why Danver Shores?” asked Tedi.
“Danver Shores is the closest city to Tagaret,” explained Alex. “We have already developed plans for the closest cities in Sordoa and Cordonia, and Bin-lu thinks he has a plan for Lanoir, but we still need one for Danver Shores. The basic idea is to harass and slow down the armies farthest from the cities. Then we need a quick elimination of the closest armies before engaging the middle prong in battle. It is a risky strategy, but it is the best we have come up with so far.”
“Get Adan involved in that,” urged Natia. “My brother knows that area well, and there is no one better than a gypsy to waylay an army.”
Alex smiled and nodded. “I will do that. Where can I find him?”
“King Arik will know where he is,” answered Tedi. “Adan promised to keep Arik informed of his location just in case the king had need of the gypsies.”
“If he is close by, I will go see him today. I tire of continual meetings, and the funeral won’t be held until Bin-lu and Rut-ki arrive.”
“Where will I find Niki?” asked Natia.
“I will take you to her,” offered Jenneva. “Fredrik’s body is being kept in a storeroom not far from the Royal Gardens. Niki refuses to leave it. Maybe you can help me talk her into returning to her room in the palace. I think she needs to be around the living and not dwell on the dead.”
* * * *
In a room at the Emporium Inn in Despair, three men spoke in hushed voices. One of the men threw three Federation uniforms on the bed.
“Put those on,” instructed Lord Zachary. “Leave the one with the corporal insignia for me.”
“You want us to pose as Federation soldiers?” balked Bork. “We are in the capital city of the Federation. Isn’t that just a bit dangerous?”
Zachary smiled as he pulled a gray wig off his head and ran his hands through his black hair. “I warned you that this would be a dangerous game. That is what makes it so exciting.” The Alcean spymaster pulled off his heavily padded tunic, revealing a slim frame beneath it. “This is like losing forty-pounds,” he laughed.
Cobb and Bork stripped off their clothes and pulled the uniforms on.
Cobb glanced at the insignias on the uniforms and asked, “Which army is the Thirty-first?”
“General Nazzaro’s army in Vinafor,” answered Zack as he opened a small case and extracted something. His hand moved to his temple, and when the hand came away from his face, a jagged black scar marred his skin.
“How did you do that?” asked Cobb. “The scar I mean. It looks real.”
“Something I got from a mage friend back home,” answered Zack. “If you two get good enough at this, I will get some for you. You will be surprised to see how many people will remember the scar long after they have forgotten everything else. People remember what is odd and unusual, so I always strive to give them something to remember.”
“While they forget what the rest of you looks like?” asked Cobb.
“Exactly,” smiled the spymaster. “While they will remember the scar, they will be unable to describe my boots. Half of them will be unable to say for sure whether I had a mustache or a beard, but all of them will remember the scar. You will get a chance to see for yourself tonight.”
“But if you always use a scar,” frowned Bork, “won’t they still be able to find you?”
“I never depend on any one distraction,” explained Zack. “A good spy must have many distractions. Tonight I will use a scar. Tomorrow I might have a noticeable limp, or my back may be hunched slightly. Sometimes a stutter will work or a deformed hand.”
“A deformed hand?” questioned Cobb. “How can you manage that?”
Zack smiled as he turned his back on his men and rummaged through his pack. When he turned around, he was wearing gloves, and each hand had a finger missing.
“It takes a bit of practice to function normally with your fingers hidden this way, but you get used to it. These gloves are padded in the palm area so that your missing fingers will not be detected. They are especially useful in dimly lighted areas when you are exchanging things with another person. They will focus on your hands and remember your deformity.”
“We have much to learn,” stated Cobb. “What is our mission tonight?”
“We are going to go drinking where the common soldiers drink,” smiled Zack. “It is important that we do not run into any officers, so we are going to split up. Cobb, you will sit with me and observe. Try to speak as little as possible. I may create an excuse for you if anyone wonders why you are so quiet. Just play along with it. Bork, you will remain separate from us. I want you to keep an eye out for officers. If one enters the tavern, we need to leave immediately.”
“I will keep watch,” promised Bork. “What is our goal?”
“I plan to start spreading the word about what ferocious fighters the Alceans are,” explained Zack, “but first we will just listen to what the soldiers are already saying. A mission like this one cannot be forced or hurried, so do not be disappointed if I end up saying nothing all night. If I see an opening where my words will have the effect I am looking for, I will seize the moment. Otherwise we will just learn what everyone else is talking about.”
“How do I look?” asked Bork.
“Like a soldier,” smiled Zack. “You will call me Corporal Fabel when I wear this uniform. Mention my name each time you talk to me. I want the name to be familiar to the soldiers. If they have already heard my name mentioned, it will add credence to my words.”
After a quick inspection of the uniforms, Corporal Fabel led his two men out of the inn and onto the streets of Despair. The first two taverns had officers in attendance, and they passed up those taverns. At the third tavern, Corporal Fabel and Cobb found a table with two other soldiers talking about the upcoming war. Corporal Fabel nodded to the two soldiers as he sat across from them. Cobb sat next to him. One of the local soldiers had a nasty scar on his chin. He wore the insignia of the Fourth Corps, which meant he served under General Franz who was leading Force Lanoir. The other soldier was a short muscular man who wore the insi
gnia of the Ninth Corps, headed by General Kolling. He would also be going to Lanoir.
“I have had a peek at a map of Alcea,” stated the scarred man. “It is a huge place.”
“I heard it was about the same size as all of Zara,” replied the short man, “but that doesn’t mean anything to me. It is not the size of the territory that matters. It is the size of the army we will be up against. No one is talking about that.”
“I haven’t heard anything about that, either,” nodded the scarred soldier. “They must have the attack plans already laid out if the attack is to be soon. I guess it has to be kept secret so the Alceans don’t learn about it, but I sure am curious. I had always thought that the horse countries were where we were going. This is a surprise to everyone.”
“Not everyone,” Corporal Fabel said softly. “This has been planned for some time.”
The soldiers looked at Zack with curiosity and disbelief.
“What would someone from the Thirty-first know about Alcea?” asked the short soldier. “I can’t imagine your corps will be pulled out of Vinafor to go to Alcea.”
“Certainly not,” Zack smiled thinly, “and I am glad of that.”
“Glad?” echoed the scarred soldier. “If you are so happy to sit out the war, maybe you should find yourself another table to sit at.”
“We don’t care too much for cowards,” agreed the short soldier.
“Coward?” balked Zack. “I may be serving in Vinafor, but I am not Vinaforan. I was one of the advance troops sent in before the wine growers capitulated to our demands. If you want to speak of courage, talk about going into a hostile country with only two squads. We managed to get all the way to Waxhaw before the rest of our army made it through the pass. If we had been caught, we would have been hung.”
“You probably had no choice in the matter,” retorted the scarred soldier. “You sure sound afraid to go to Alcea.”
“I am,” admitted the corporal. “I am not afraid to fight, but I doubt that many of our men will be coming back from Alcea. Our officers may make light of the might of the Alceans, but I know better.”
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