The Dagger of Trust

by Chris Willrich

  There was a roar of support.

  "You know it doesn't work that way!" Gideon yelled over their voices. "Even if he said yes, the Wildwood Lodge would have to agree."

  "They'll listen when they see we have power! That we're not afraid of their tricks!"

  "The treaty's stood for nine hundred years," Corvine said. "Your parents and grandparents all benefited by it. Who are you to wreck it?"

  Gideon felt a power in her voice, and the crowd felt it too. Many in the front blinked, shifted, opened their mouths, and looked as though they suddenly wondered what they were doing there.

  "Return to your homes, good people of Cassomir!" he called. "Leave aside fear and hate. Remember the wanderer who left his battles behind." So saying, he called upon his own talents and sang the chorus of "General Coren Looks Homeward," letting his magic seep up into the words like fuel through a wick. He could almost feel the fires beginning to kindle in the listeners' minds, the embers of ordinary wholesome thought blown to brightness by the familiar tune, popular for closing time at taverns.

  But his was not the only fire.

  "Ooh, how precious!" sneered a new voice. "Home and hearth, family and comfort!" The speaker laughed its contempt. "Go home, go to sleep, little sheep! Let the mighty bards and druids decide what's best for you, little children!"

  The heckler stepped into view. For a long, ghastly moment, Gideon thought he was looking at a capering child, unaccountably covered in blood. As he squinted and the figure came nearer, however, he saw it was no child, that the face was that of a wizened old man, and that its crimson hue was simply the color of the thing's hide. It looked so scalded as to be near death, yet the being grinned and danced, clearly in the full flush of health. Its fingers and toes were clawed, and flame sprouted from its pointed ears and swinging tail.

  The thing bore in its hands a shining tool, a brassy, cone-shaped device half as big as its wielder. It was covered in arcane inscriptions and wreathed in fires.

  And Gideon knew how the torches had stayed lit.

  "A devil," Corvine said.

  "An ukobach, if I'm not mistaken." Gideon was nonplussed to find in the fiery flesh a thing he'd previously encountered only in two dimensions and between two covers, while cramming for tests in the library. He wished now he still had that book. "They appear in the novel Shagreen, about an alchemist who comes to a bad end after dealing with one." It was in fact an alchemist who'd written that book, and legend had it Shagreen was semi-autobiographical. Ukobachs were said to be diabolic innovators, spurring mortals to vile creativity.

  They also liked burning things. Ukobachs reputedly carried enchanted fire-pokers, but this one had a more inventive implement.

  "Why aren't these people running away?" Corvine wondered. "It's a devil. And what's it holding? A fire-casting device?"

  "Not just that, I think—"

  As Gideon spoke, the ukobach put the cone to its lips. What emerged was not fire, but sound that seemed akin to fire.

  "Don't let them fool you!" came the magnified voice. "The druid is weak! The bards are weak! They hate you, and they laugh at you even as they plot against you! Burn them first!"

  "He carries his own bardic voice," Gideon said, flinching at the sound of it, "and the mob responds to it."

  "The frothers most of all," Corvine added.

  What was that strange alchemy of hate, Gideon wondered, that cruel combination of believing someone weak and contemptible while at the same time thinking him overwhelmingly dangerous? Never had he heard it so baldly proclaimed as by the ukobach, yet the magic of the devil's bullhorn made the clattering contradictions of hate seem like stirring music, while somehow preventing the crowd from noticing the fiend in their midst.

  The mob responded. It rushed the house, waving torches and screaming.

  "Fools!"

  Brother Zaganos's voice boomed even over storm and crowd, and winds rushed upon the mob from the direction of Blackwood Swamp. The druid's robes billowed as he stepped before the shocked Taldans, and many torches blew out.

  "I would call you ants, but ants have my respect. Begone."

  And Brother Zaganos changed.

  At first Gideon thought the druid's very flesh was melting off his bones. Then it became clear something more horrifying was happening. Hundreds of gobs of skin, muscle, and viscera puckered and split off from his disintegrating body, and as they launched into the air the scarlet spatters coalesced into insects. Fingers exploded into spiraling golden squadrons; eyebrows and beard resembled the crawling innards of a hive; eyes turned a feral yellow and burst buzzing out of their sockets.

  "Don't listen to his ranting!" the devil was shouting. "That's how he controls you..." But the entity's speech trailed off as Zaganos completed his transformation into a swarm of wasps.

  Or rather most of Zaganos. The druid's bones, still nestled within his robe, clattered to the wood as his outraged flesh buzzed all about the garden, spreading fear and venom.

  Gideon and Corvine leaned against each other, shaking.

  "Erastil's antlers," Gideon murmured.

  "We mustn't run. Guard the bones."

  Good rule. If a druid turns his flesh into bugs and swarms all over your enemies, guard his bones. If I ever have children, I will teach them this. They will thank me, I'm sure.

  Savaric was among the first to bolt. The mob dispersed in all directions. Terror of the druid had unshackled their minds from the fog and the urgings of the ukobach, who fled into the night. It was more quickly lost to sight than Gideon might have expected.

  It left fire behind, however. The porch was burning.

  "Quick, smother it!" Corvine told him.

  A moment later, she said, "Not with Zaganos's cloak!"

  "Gah." Gideon dropped the hem. Bones clattered anew. He ran into the house, careful to touch nothing except for the curtain he found hanging over the window. It didn't attempt to strangle him or speak in riddles, for which he was grateful. Back outside, he joined Corvine in smothering the fire.

  Smoke puffed into his face and he gasped and coughed, eyes stinging. Between the curtain and the rain, however, they kept the fire from spreading, and soon there was only a charred area, not a blaze.

  They stood together, panting, simply being alive.

  "I have restored my flesh," Zaganos said behind them, and Gideon and Corvine jumped. They turned; the druid stood before them as if nothing had happened. Did the tip of his nose twitch a little, or was that a trick of the light?

  At that moment, Sebastian, Ozrif, Viridia, Leothric, and three crew from Riposte ran into the garden. "Are you all right, Brother Zaganos?" Sebastian shouted. "Mistress Gale? Gull?"

  Zaganos didn't acknowledge him. "I see no reason for your presence," he told Gideon and Corvine.

  "Is that all you have to say?" Corvine demanded. "Gideon and I just risked our lives."

  Zaganos stroked his beard. "Certain plants, mice, and spiders dwelling within my home would perhaps be grateful to you, if they could conceptualize the danger and your role in mitigating it."

  "You're welcome, Brother Zaganos," said Gideon.

  "I did not thank you."

  "I'm sure you did. I remember it quite distinctly. Very gracious."

  Zaganos shrugged. "As you wish."

  "You can repay us," Gideon said, "by telling us if you detected any unnatural presence within the crowd."

  "Aside from the miscreant from another plane?"

  "Yes."

  "No."

  As they left the druid's home, boots sloshing in the rain, Corvine said to Gideon, "Thank you for intervening, because I was about to kick him."

  "I don't claim to understand the man," Sebastian said, "but I've never known him to lie, or even exaggerate...Pardon my manners, Mistress Gale. A pleasure to see you again."

  "Likewise," she said, more brightly. "It is nice to talk to someone who knows what manners are."

  "I hope you're referring to Zaganos and not me," Gideon said.

 
; Corvine frowned. "Of course I'm talking about Zaganos."

  Sebastian asked, "What did the druid mean about a miscreant from another plane?"

  "An ukobach devil," Gideon said. "You know the type?"

  "I know who would send one," Sebastian said, and looked west through the gloom, beyond the river and beyond Andoran.

  "Cheliax," Gideon said.

  "We'd best speak with the admiral."

  Chapter Nine

  Nocturne in the Key of Fear

  Gideon had never before been to the Admiralty Citadel. Its stones loomed over them as the bards walked the slick cobblestoned streets of Old Cassomir. Whether due to the influence of Brother Zaganos or just good luck, the storm had blown past with surprising speed, and with the sunset at their backs the structure was a sharp, shadowy mass rising against the pale eastern sky.

  "I have the feeling," Gideon said to Corvine, "that this has been the worst date of your life."

  "It's certainly getting up there."

  "I've the feeling I should be careful my head stays on my neck," said Ozrif, looking at the edifice.

  "This is the true heart of Cassomir, if you ask me," Corvine mused. "Maybe even the heart of the empire. The knights busy themselves squabbling with each other, the infantry's mostly encamped on the Qadiran border, but the navy's always growing, under Admiral Kasaba's eye."

  "You may be right," Sebastian said approvingly. "I often despair of what I see in Taldor's military, but not when I'm here. I trust Kasaba. I wish we had ten more like her."

  "She's part Keleshite, isn't she?" Leothric said.

  "Don't mention that within the Admiralty walls," said Corvine.

  "Why?" Ozrif said. "Is that something to be ashamed of?"

  "I think, for her, it may be," Gideon said. "Or perhaps her ancestry simply brings a complexity to her role she'd rather avoid."

  "Hm," said Ozrif.

  "Leave speculation aside," Sebastian said as they neared the gate. "The questions will all belong to her."

  Beyond the gate, a pair of guards escorted them into the building and through a maze of passageways, passing draftsmen's offices and records rooms, training halls and meeting chambers, up and up until they reached the offices of the admiral. Through a pair of oaken doors lay a circular chamber with guards at the cardinal directions, aides at the intermediate positions, and a vast wooden table in the middle, half-covered in maps and charts. Great windows looked south, offering a view of the harbor and the shipyards. Gideon could also see the home of Brother Zaganos.

  Zaganos himself was at the table, looking disdainful, seated to the left of Admiral Kasaba. Kasaba wore her workaday uniform, looking as unlike a classic bombastic Taldan commander as the sun was unlike the moon. The hints of Qadiran ancestry in her face were the least of her distinctions; more prominent were the muscles and scars of a woman who'd never forgotten her years as a slave, and the iron gaze of a commander who could envision enemies beyond every horizon.

  To her right sat Governor Bozbeyli, a man who seemed at first glance her polar opposite, stout, gray-bearded, richly robed, eternally holding forth on some subject or other (frequently himself.) A second look might reveal the captured Qadiran scimitar that was his closest companion, and a third appraisal might catch the cold-eyed gaze of a calculating mind looking right back.

  His voice and his gaze currently fell upon Zaganos, who for his part seemed deeply immersed in studying the contours of the wooden table, oblivious to Bozbeyli's words of apology for the afternoon's disturbance.

  A few other chairs held various worthies of Cassomir—the black-cloaked head of the merchants' guild, the sheriff in her leather armor, the golden-robed high priestess of Abadar—whose names Gideon could not recall. The closest he'd ever been to these personages was when he'd performed at Admiral Kasaba's birthday party.

  Kasaba seemed more at ease now, he thought. Perhaps eldritch fogs and enraged lunatics suited her better than idle chitchat.

  She seemed to confirm this when she fixed Sebastian with a sharp gaze, held up her hand to stop the governor mid-speech, and said, "Captain Tambour. We've already discussed your written report. This meeting is about action. Sit down, all of you."

  Gideon couldn't imagine anyone but Kasaba silencing Bozbeyli as she had. But the governor, seemingly unruffled, made sure he got in a few words himself. "It's too bad your superior, Captain Coremont, is far out at sea. But I've seen your work firsthand, Captain Tambour, and I have faith in you." Uneasily, he added, "And I'm sure Zaganos can vouch for your associates."

  Brother Zaganos scratched his nose, then went back to tracing a particularly interesting whorl of wood grain.

  "Ah, yes." Kasaba frowned at the druid and steepled her fingers. "I'll get to the point. I confess we in authority didn't believe the reports of this fog until now." Here Kasaba nodded to Corvine. "Now we're making up for lost time. We've reviewed similar events in parts of Taldor and Andoran. They're concentrated along the River Sellen. Given what's occurred in Cassomir and Oppara, and the reports coming downriver, I conclude there's indeed a supernatural influence afflicting both nations. And in some unknown way it's associated with water. I strongly suspect that its ultimate origin is Cheliax."

  "Suspect?" Bozbeyli broke in. "There was a devil in my city. Who else could be responsible?"

  "I understand, Governor. You're probably right. But the ability to summon devils isn't limited to our Chelish friends, so I want proof. The fog attacks have mainly been on the Sellen. Perhaps Chelish agents have a base hidden in the Verduran Forest. Or upriver in the troubled lands of Galt or the River Kingdoms."

  "Not likely there," countered Sebastian. "We have no reports of this blasted fog in those places. And the Verduran Forest's protected by the druids."

  Zaganos looked up at that, stroked his chin, and said, "We give voice to what few can hear." The others waited for him to add something. Someone coughed and shifted nervously.

  Sebastian continued. "Well. I'll admit, I'm suspicious of Andoran."

  "Andoran's under attack too," objected Gideon. "In fact, maybe instead of accusing them, we should contact them."

  Gideon remembered, even as he spoke, that as a member of Sebastian's team he was to answer direct questions only. Cold gazes scrutinized him.

  Sebastian didn't stand on protocol, however. "Listen. Gull. I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not saying Andoran is responsible. But let's be blunt here. Andoran lacks the organization of an imperial state like Taldor or Cheliax. Their river borderland's an unruly place. You know this yourself from your experiences in Bellis."

  Gideon frowned. He'd never mentioned Bellis to Sebastian.

  Sebastian continued, "We simply can't discount the possibility of rogue Andoren elements, or Chelish agents who've taken advantage of Andoren weakness. Either way, this is turning into a military problem."

  "What, you'd invade Andoran? When all signs point to Cheliax?"

  Admiral Kasaba broke in. "You are Andoren yourself, are you not, Mister—Gull, is it? I admire your love of your home. Nor do I doubt your loyalty. Your actions at Zaganos's home speak volumes about your courage. However, the captain's concerns are valid. I haven't mentioned this before, but that rabble-rouser Savaric is in custody, and he claims to be an Andoren agent, with the job of stirring up trouble. He purports not to know where his diabolic accomplice came from. Now, maybe he's really a Chelish agent trying to throw us off track. But Andoren gold was in his pockets."

  Gideon was startled. "I'm not always in agreement with my countrymen. But I'd be surprised if they'd use such tactics."

  "They're fortunate to have your esteem. But leave that aside. If this enchanted fog's being controlled by an enemy—whatever enemy—then based on the pattern it's indeed reasonable they're up the Sellen, and I, too, suspect they operate from the Andoren side. We'll find out. If your heritage demands you stand aside, so be it. If not...it's time you kept silent."

  Red-faced, Gideon nodded. His mind churned. Could Andoran be invol
ved in these events? Sebastian's speculations worried him. There were indeed radicals in Andoran who assumed a more hostile stance toward their neighbors, but he never thought they'd be party to murder.

  And how had Sebastian known about Bellis? Dominicus Rell might have told him. But Rell had said he'd keep the interrogation details to himself, and Gideon believed him. The Westport Guard? Yes, that made sense. They must have overheard him talking with his fellow bards in the cell, and given Sebastian a full report.

  He would not underestimate his mentor again.

  Kasaba turned to Sebastian. "We send a scouting expedition. One ship—yours. I know your orders were to follow up on incidents in Cassomir. Your trail now leads upriver. I can't command you to go, but if you wait for word from direct superiors..."

  "No need. I'll go."

  "I can spare some gold," said Bozbeyli, "to loosen tongues upriver."

  "You'll be fully supplied," Kasaba said. "You can't know what you'll be facing."

  "Both are appreciated."

  There was a silence. Just as the eyes of the chamber had previously fixed upon him, Gideon now sensed them turning, like a village full of weather vanes, toward Brother Zaganos.

  "Will the druids help?" asked Kasaba.

  Zaganos didn't look up from the fascinating wood of the table. "Help? Look out the window at your fleet, built from corpses."

  Kasaba's hand clenched, though her voice remained even. "That's not what I mean. The Isle of Arenway lies up the Sellen. This matter concerns you."

  "Having brutalized the land for generations in pursuit of strength, Taldor asks the land for aid?"

  "You're part of Taldor."

  "Meaningless. We have the treaty. If you wish to plead, do so at the Isle."

  "Which you could contact easily," Sebastian said, "and probably have."

  "I will send word. What that word is, is my business alone."

  "Enough," said the governor, quickly raising his palm. "Zaganos has given his answer. So be it. Unless there's anything more to add, make your preparations, Captain Tambour. I'll send my secretary to consult with your quartermaster."

  "Shipwright Baler will supply Riposte within the hour," Kasaba said.