The mists of sorrow ms-7

by Brian S. Pratt

  Chapter Seven

  Early the next morning, Ceadric shows up with a dozen servants carrying trays of food and pitchers of ale. “With Lord Black Hawk’s compliments,” he says as the servants set the trays down upon the tables. Once the food is in place, he has them return back downstairs.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” begins James as he starts to load his plate with food. “Where did you get the servants?”

  “Some are relatives of the Raiders who are now living here,” he explains. “They started arriving two days after we took over. How they learned of it so fast is anyone’s guess.”

  “I suppose,” agrees James.

  “The rest are the people we freed from slavery. Some didn’t have anywhere else to go so remained with us.” He glances from James to Jiron then adds, “Couldn’t very well say no.”

  Shaking his head, James says, “No, you couldn’t.”

  “What happened with the Ambassador last night?” Jiron asks.

  “Not much,” he says. “Black Hawk explained what happened, how the priests of Asran caught a wayward spirit that was causing the deaths. He didn’t look too convinced, but what could he do but take him at his word?”

  Laughing, Scar adds, “Must have scared them something awful when that shadow was hovering above them surrounded by a green glow.” Several of the others chuckle at that.

  “It didn’t do anything for the negotiations I’ll tell you that,” explains Ceadric. “I think Councilman Tethias plans to talk to you sometime today before you leave.”

  “What about?” asks James.

  Shrugging, Ceadric answers, “Not sure.” He removes a piece of pork from a platter and takes a bite.

  “We plan to leave after the sun goes down tonight,” James informs him.

  “Thought that might be the plan,” he says. “Lord Black Hawk wanted you to know that there are several Raiders here who are fluent in the Empire’s language if you think you might need one.” He glances at James a moment before adding, “Just be more careful than you were with the last one.”

  “Hey,” counters James, “if Jared hadn’t panicked, he would be alive today.”

  “Be that as it may, should you desire one let us know.” Finishing the piece of pork, Ceadric takes his leave.

  When he’s left the suite and the door is shut, Jiron exclaims, “What nerve!”

  “Yeah,” exclaims Miko. “The way he said it, you would think you killed Jared yourself.”

  The others chime in with their opinions before Scar says, “Jared was a cousin of his.”

  “Oh, that would explain it,” says James with a nod.

  “Still no cause to say what he did,” insists Jiron.

  After finishing the meal, James says to Stig, “I want you to see about the horses Illan plans to give us. Make sure his people give us good ones.”

  Nodding, Stig says, “Will do.”

  “And see what you can learn about the Ambassador,” he adds. “His men may not readily recognize you as they would Jiron, Miko, or me.”

  “See what I can find out,” he replies. Getting up from the table, he heads for the door and leaves the suite.

  Once Stig is gone, Miko asks, “Don’t you trust Illan’s people?”

  “Sure I do,” he affirms. “It’s just that I hate sitting here and doing nothing. This way it feels like we are doing something.”

  Rest of the morning goes by uneventfully, everyone is glad for this brief time to rest before returning to the road. When Stig returns, he states that the horses are superb. As for the Ambassador, he couldn’t ferret out any more information than what they were already told.

  “I did find out one thing though,” he tells them. “They want this keep back in a bad way.”

  “Doubt if they’ll get it,” remarks Potbelly. “After all they’ve done to Madoc, Councilman Tethias would be a fool to hand it back over.”

  “If they did it would take Madoc a year or two to rebuild theirs,” figures Shorty. “From what I’ve heard, it’s all but a pile of rubble somewhere to the north.”

  “I talked with Hedry for a bit,” Stig says. “He was out at the stables when I stopped by. Seems the reports coming from agents within the Empire tell of the Empire still having a large standing army.”

  “But if they committed them to retake this keep, wouldn’t that leave their southern states open for rebellion?” asks James.

  “Who knows?” replies Stig. “That’s what I heard.”

  When the others begin to argue about the stupidity of certain leaders, James raises his hand. “It’s not our concern right now what Madoc does or doesn’t do with this keep.” Turning back to Stig he asks, “Anything else?”

  “Actually yes,” he replies with a grin. “The Raiders have begun calling the keep, ‘Hawk’s Aerie’. Of course they mainly do it when those of the Empire are near to hear it, seems it’s bothering the Ambassador something awful.”

  “Hawk’s Aerie,” mumbles James. Nodding he grins and says “I like it.” The others add their agreements.

  It was sometime after the noon meal when Councilman Tethias decides to pay them a call. Ceadric was able to give them all of a minute’s warning before the councilman’s footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Ceadric asked them to assemble in James’ suite for the Councilman’s visit.

  A rather short man, Councilman Tethias stands only five foot six. His brown hair, salted with a smattering of gray, is combed to rigid perfection. Not a single hair is out of place. He’s accompanied by two aides who follow a step behind.

  Ceadric is waiting in the hallway for him and they can hear him greet the councilman. Opening the door, he allows the councilman and his aides to enter first.

  They come to their feet in respect as he enters the room. “Councilman,” Ceadric says after he enters the room and closes the door, “may I present James, a mage of some power, and those who travel with him.”

  James and the councilman stand there and eye each other for a moment. James is decidedly uncomfortable, he feels likes he’s a bug under a microscope. Extending his hand, he says, “Nice to meet you, Councilman.”

  Taking James’ hand, the councilman gives it a firm shake and replies, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Even before I arrived here for the talks, tales of your exploits had reached me.”

  Giving the councilman a disarming grin, he says, “Nothing too terrible I hope.”

  Shaking his head, he releases James’ hand. “On the contrary,” he begins, “what I’ve heard can only be called miraculous.”

  “Would you care for a seat?” Jiron asks, indicating the finest seat in the suite.

  “Thank you, I would like that,” replies the councilman. Crossing over to the chair, he sits down and his aides position themselves behind him.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” asks James.

  “Nothing more than curiosity I’m afraid,” admits the councilman. “When Lord Black Hawk informed me you were here, I asked him if he thought you would mind a visit. I do appreciate you seeing me.”

  James gazes at the councilman questioningly. This hardly seems a man who is one of the Patriarchal Council of Madoc, and who is use to his word being law. Before he can stop himself he says, “You aren’t what I would expect of a Councilman.”

  Arching an eyebrow at him, he grins and says, “You mean I’m more cordial than others in positions of power?” When James nods he continues. “Just the way I am I’m afraid. Also what makes me a good negotiator. They considered sending a hardliner down here but that would have been a grave mistake.”

  “I understand that the Empire is demanding the return of this keep,” Jiron says.

  “It’s true,” the councilman replies.

  “You don’t plan to give it back do you?” asks Scar.

  “Hardly,” he assures them. “That would be the surest form of stupidity. No, this keep will be a sore spot between our two lands for some time to come I’m afraid.”

  Shorty comes forward with a
mug of ale and offers it to the councilman. “It’s the best we have,” he apologizes.

  Taking the offered cup, the councilman gives him a nod and says, “Thank you.” He takes a sip while the others remain silent. Then he returns his gaze back to James. “You know, they believe you are still in the Empire.”

  Surprised, James asks, “Why?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” he replies. “But rumors are surfacing of someone in the Empire causing massive destruction. Bridges, army encampments, even one report of an entire city collapsing, though I give that last one little credence.”

  James glances at Jiron for a second and sees that he came to the same conclusion that he did. Those seeds of destruction he sowed in wagons earlier this summer are still active. At one point he tried to recall just how many he planted, but couldn’t quite remember exactly. The number had to have been over two dozen, possibly as high as forty. If they are still active, then they’re still gathering power. The longer it takes for them to go off, the more powerful the explosion.

  “A whole city you say?” he asks.

  “Supposedly,” he replies with a nod. The councilman notices the expression of anguish that comes over James’ face. Though he doesn’t comment, he realizes that James does know something about it.

  “When are you planning on leaving?” he asks.

  “As soon as d…” Stig begins before he’s cut off by Jiron.

  “We haven’t decided yet,” James says quickly. He casts a quick glance to Jiron and gives him a brief nod. James has always been one who hated someone else knowing his business.

  “Ah,” the councilman says as he comes to his feet. The rest of the room comes to their feet as well. “I’m sorry I must make my visit brief,” he says. “The meeting will begin shortly.”

  James extends his hand for a goodbye shake which the councilman takes. “It was good to meet you,” says James.

  “You too my boy,” he replies. To Ceadric the councilman says, “Tell Lord Black Hawk I would like to meet with him later this afternoon after the talks have ended for the day.”

  “Yes, milord,” assures Ceadric.

  “Very good.” Moving for the door, he pauses but a moment to give one of his aides time to open it for him then exits into the hallway.

  When the door shuts behind him James turns to Ceadric. “He seems nice enough.”

  “He is,” agrees Ceadric. “I have yet to meet anyone who can say an unkind word about him.”

  “Surprised he’s able to survive on the Council,” states Potbelly. “I hear they are a bunch of cutthroats.”

  Laughing, Ceadric nods, “They can be at times. Despite his amicable manner, he can be hard as nails when he must. Always kind, but hard.”

  “I think I could like a man like that,” observes James.

  “I must be off,” Ceadric tells him.

  “Will everything be ready for this evening?” asks James just as Ceadric reaches the door.

  Nodding, Ceadric opens the door and turns back toward him. “Everything’s set,” he assures him. “Just after dark.”

  “Thank you,” James says.

  Passing through the door, Cedric enters the hallway and closes it behind him.

  The rest of the afternoon is spent getting what rest they can for when they leave. Miko spends the time not sleeping lying on his bed with the Book of Morcyth propped open on his stomach reading.

  At one point Jiron comes over to him and asks, “I thought you still couldn’t read that well?”

  Taking his eyes from the pages, he glances to Jiron and shrugs. “I can now,” he says.

  “Is it interesting?” he asks indicating the book.

  “Some parts are,” he explains. “Others not so much.”

  Jiron indicates the foot of his bed and looks questioningly to Miko.

  Nodding, Miko says, “Sure.” He closes the book and sets in on the bed next to him. Scooting into a sitting position, he props his back against the wall as Jiron sits on the bed.

  “How is all this going?” asks Jiron.

  “You mean being the High Priest and all?”

  “Yeah,” he replies.

  “For the most part, I don’t feel any different,” Miko admits. “All the priests I’ve known have all been kind of stuffy. You know what I mean?”

  “Oh yes,” agrees Jiron. “In fact, back when Tersa and I were still living in the City, there was this Father Corwyn. He was a priest of Vyll.” Vyll is the god of luck, gambler and thieves. “He was very full of himself, and despite following the god of thieves he was a very upright fellow. As bad as it makes me feel now, I and a few of my buddies would make fun of him behind his back. He was fat and it bothers me now that we use to laugh at him for it. If I ever see him again I plan to make it up somehow.”

  Nodding, Miko says, “There were a few like that back home too.” He falls quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I know how to be a priest, let alone a High Priest.” His gaze is one of almost panic when he finally brings his eyes to bear on Jiron. “I mean look at me! I am not refined, I know nothing about anything.”

  Jiron reaches out and pats him on the leg. “Relax,” he says. “A god wants you to be his representative on this world. Doesn’t that make you feel good?”

  “Of course it does,” admits Miko. “I simply fear that I will not live up to the trust Morcyth is putting in me.”

  “I think you are worrying too much about nothing,” Jiron tells him. When he sees he’s not getting through to him he continues. “You have used the power of the Star to heal, to bring people back from the brink of death. You have battled shadows, wielded a sword in battle against a warrior priest, and prevailed! You’ve seen things that the majority of those living on this world have not. Now I ask you, don’t you think you are a little more than a street brat off the streets of Bearn?”

  Miko looks at him thoughtfully for a time. Then he nods and gives him a grin. “Maybe you are right, my son,” he says.

  “ My son? ” asks Jiron with a grin. “Okay, Father.” Together they break into laughter at the same time.

  “Thanks Jiron,” Miko tells him when the laughter finally subsides.

  “Anytime, Miko,” replies Jiron. Getting up off the bed, he leaves Miko to continue reading the Book of Morcyth.

  An hour before nightfall, Ceadric brings them another meal, complete with tarts, and tells them their horses are ready and waiting for them. “There’s only one problem,” he says.

  “Isn’t there always?” asks Scar.

  “Ever since the shadow incident, the Empire’s Ambassador has had someone stationed near the gates to keep an eye on who goes in and out,” he explains.

  “Do they know I’m here?” James asks.

  Ceadric indicates the tarts that came along with the meal. “The cook said to tell Miko these are for him,” he says. “I don’t know who informed the cook that you were here, but if it has made it to him, it’s only a matter of time before word makes it to the Ambassador.”

  “If it hasn’t already,” finishes James.

  “How are we going to get out the gates?” asks Shorty.

  “Hedry is scheduled to lead a patrol this evening,” he explains. “I figure if you were to leave with him then your leaving may go unnoticed.” He glances to where Brother Willim sits eating in his brown robe, the emblem of the Hand of Asran upon his breast. “We are going to have to do something about your robe.”

  “I can easily take it off,” assures Brother Willim. “Maybe slip an ordinary cloak on instead?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of some armor,” counters Ceadric. “You are going to need to blend in with the others.”

  “I’ll not wear armor,” he states. “Our order forbids it.”

  “But they will realize you are not one of our men,” objects Ceadric.

  Seeing Ceadric clearly getting irritated and Brother Willim balking, James gets to his feet. “If the rest of us are wearing breastplates and helms, and we put him in the cente
r, then in the dark we might be able to get away with it.”

  Ceadric nods his head. “That might work,” he says.

  “Why sneak out at all?” Stig asks. “There isn’t anyone around here who could effectively stop us.”

  “Two reasons,” James says as he turns to him. “One, if we are seen leaving and then moving into the Empire, war could erupt all over again and a lot of people are going to die.”

  “Second, we are trying to rescue Tinok. Our effort would only be hampered should the Empire learn we are on the move again.”

  “Oh,” says Stig slightly embarrassed, “that makes sense.”

  “Alright,” Ceadric says, “there’s an hour or so until sunset. Once it begins growing dark I will return and escort you through the back ways down to the stables. Then those of you who have no armor will be fitted with a breastplate and helm. When you are away from the keep, you can return the armor to Hedry and he and his men will bring it back once their patrol is over.”

  “In your horses’ saddlebags, you will find clothes that will enable you to blend in with the citizens of the Empire.” Turning to James he asks, “Did you wish a translator?”

  “I think that would be best,” he says.

  “Very well, I’ll have him meet you there.” Before he leaves he asks, “Is there anything else?”

  Shaking his head, James says, “Not that I can think of.”

  “Then I will return when it is dark.” With that, he heads for the door and exits to the hallway. Closing the door behind him, they can hear his footsteps as he makes his way toward the stairs.

  James commences to fill his plate and then stops when his eyes catch something. He stares at Miko until Miko asks, “What?”

  Smiling, he says, “I never saw a high priest before with tart jelly smeared across his cheek.” Laughter fills the room as Miko wipes the jelly off his reddening face.

  Now, almost two hours later, James stands at the window in the darkened room looking out into the night. A knock at the door breaks the stillness and when Jiron opens it, light comes in from where Ceadric stands in the hallway with a lantern.