Melissa shut her eyes and wished she could understand. Since the time she was a child she’d been brought up with faith in The One We Follow and in his divine plan to restore the world and purify it. Even before she’d learned her first incantation, she’d been taught the duty she owed to the Order of Mist and to all the people of this world. Magical ability was a rare trait in humans, and those who could wield it had a responsibility to use it for the greater good. She believed in the cause. She believed in Unity, Justice, and Peace. She believed that she and all her brothers and sisters in the Order were fighting to create a better world, a perfect world. And every sacrifice was worth it because one day they would make this world the paradise it was meant to be, without monsters or undead or evil. She would not live to see it, but it didn’t matter because she knew that one day it would come to pass, and it would all be worth it.
And because of a mouthful of love potion she had thrown all of that away and made the survival of a thief, imposter, blasphemer, and cult leader her priority. All her faith, all her devotion, and belief had been thrown aside for the sake of a man who by any standard deserved death.
She shut her eyes and tried to find peace. It was the god’s will! It had to be, there is no other explanation! That was what she held onto when she lied to the minister. She had been brought up to believe that EVERYTHING was part of their god’s plan. Even the failures and defeats served a greater purpose. They taught the faithful to endure and never question the divine will. Bringing Waldo into the order and redeeming him HAD to be the god’s will. Because if it wasn’t…
Melissa shook her head and tried to banish the thought. She couldn’t let herself doubt. Everything was part of the divine plan; her being dosed with the potion, permanently falling in love with Waldo, betraying her vows, acquiring the pardon, running into Waldo again here. Surely, all those things could not be random chance! Her god had to be orchestrating it! It had to be his will that Waldo be returned home to join the Order. She could accept no other possibility.
The fact Waldo was a healer, and a potent one, she took as evidence of her god’s intent. Those who had a Talent in white magic were the elites of the order. Once Waldo was properly indoctrinated and enrolled, she had no doubt he would rise up the ranks. Instead of living a life of crime and debauchery, he could be an asset to the order and the greater world in general. How could The One We Follow not wish that? So long as Waldo became a true White Mage and fulfilled his part in the god’s plan, then everything she’d done up until now was justified. Her sins could all be forgiven, for all things were just if they were done in their lord’s name.
She held onto the thought with an absolute iron grip. She was a servant of her god working his will, helping to make the world a better place. When she delivered Waldo to Avalon her god would surely be pleased.
Because if that’s not the case, she thought. I’ve betrayed everything I believe in for a man who is nothing but vile offal. And I did it because of feelings I know aren’t even real. I would be nothing but a sad, pathetic woman who was a slave to her own heart!
She clamped shut her eyes and began praying again. She banished the thought and WOULD NOT think about it again! She would save Waldo because it was what her god wanted. THAT was the truth, the only truth that mattered!
And as she prayed, she imagined kissing Waldo, loving him. Hearing him confess his true feelings of love to her. She dreamed of being his wife and having his children.
XXX
“Silver, I think,” the queen said staring into the mirror and licking honey from her fingers. “Make the tips like polished silver.”
How tedious, Garibaldi thought. “Yes, your majesty.” He held out his wand and adjusted the illusion. This was always the most boring part of his day, casting the illusion and adjusting it to match Madis’s whims. As if it really mattered, this ridiculous obsession she had with being young and beautiful. So long as the gold in her vault was real, every man in the world would want to marry her. Not that she had any interest in men.
He didn’t care about her preferences or tastes. Morality was for the poor. What worried him, and the rest of the guild, was the lack of an heir. Madis had a number of cousins and other relatives, but no designated successor. When she died it would be a mess, a civil war might even break out. Everything would be easier if we could rule directly, without this nonsense.
In the east, there were some magocricies. Lands where a single mage, or a single family of mages, ruled with absolute authority. There was Alteroth to the south where the Dark Mages held power. If the guild could rule directly, Torikai would be much better served. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a real possibility here. The local noble and merchant houses would never accept taking orders directly from the guild. They all insisted the head of state be from a royal bloodline.
Most of the time it didn’t really matter. The queen was lazy and disinterested in anything that happened beyond the court. She listened to his suggestions and things normally ran smoothly. But sometimes her simple mind would fixate on things and she would dig in her heels. Her interest in Valeria and the ridiculous promises about mythril were the worst example of that. The drow were horrifically dangerous and needed to be expelled. The White Mages and their machinations were nearly as hazardous. It was no secret they were ruthless in getting what they wanted, but even he’d never imagined they would stoop to bringing in a seductress, or using a Great Monster or conspiring with the drow. The situation in the south had to be even worse than it seemed.
Unlike the drow, the White Mages could not simply be expelled. They had too much influence and support in the wider world. Nothing could be done that might give Avalon an excuse for open warfare. They had to be defeated with more subtle methods.
Madis stared into the mirror and gave a nod. “Yes, I think that will do. So what news do you have for me today?”
Garibaldi would get through the unimportant things first, so they could then focus on the serious matters. “There was a bit of trouble in the outer city last night, your majesty.”
The queen sighed. “Not another baker killed.”
“No, not this time. A squad of guards was sent out to arrest a family with an unpaid debt. They were killed, all six of them.”
“Killed?” Madis said in confusion.
“Yes, majesty. Not only were they killed, but their bodies were mutilated and their weapons stolen.”
“Why would my people do that?” The queen asked. “Don’t they understand my guards serve me? That they are only doing their duty to me?”
“As to that, there are rumors of a new cult that is spreading quickly through the outer city and gaining many followers. They worship some animal god or other and seem very violent. I’m sure most of the people are loyal and love you deeply, majesty.”
“Who are these terrible men?” The queen asked. “And why would they kill my loyal servants?”
“Who knows, your majesty?” Garibaldi shrugged his shoulders. “There are always cults. The important thing is that they are the ones to blame.”
“What is to be done? I can’t allow my brave guards to be murdered.”
“Of course not, majesty. Commander Mueller has already had a couple dozen suspects arrested. They will be tried and executed before lunch. Their heads will be put on pikes and left in the outer city as a reminder of what happens to people who flout the law.”
“That’s good,” the queen said before stuffing another biscuit in her mouth. She inhaled it and continued. “I only want the guilty punished. I want the people to know that only criminals need to fear me.”
“Of course, your majesty,” Garibaldi said with a stylish bow. “The commander will be thorough in his investigation. No drop of innocent blood will be spilled.”
The queen nodded and licked the honey from her fingers.
As if we need to waste the time, Garibaldi thought. We just need to make some examples and remind the rats we are the rat catchers. Garibaldi knew thousands, probably tens of thousands
were going to starve to death this winter. In his opinion that would be a good thing. Come spring there would be fewer mouths and fewer troublemakers. Except for the young men who served in the fighting pits and the women who worked in the pleasure houses, he would be happy to be rid of the entire Rats Nest.
“What about this cult?” Queen Madis asked.
“New things are always exciting, majesty,” Garibaldi reassured her. “They are popular now, but before long the people will return to the Gods of the Realm. They will not trouble you long, majesty.”
“Good,” she said and had another biscuit.
With the trivial matters out of the way, Garibaldi moved on to what was important.
“Your majesty, have you reconsidered my guild’s request to disqualify Belle of Tarsus as a contestant in your tournament?”
She frowned. “Why are you bringing this up again? I’ve already decided.”
He smiled and spread his hands, trying to be as charming as he could. “Majesty, this is a most unusual situation. She is not simply another foreigner with dreams of fortune and glory. She is the servant of a White Mage. She should never have been registered in the first place.”
“Perhaps, but she was.”
“Your majesty-”
“Contracts are sacred,” Madis spoke the old mantra. “The Gods of the Realm teach us that and would be offended if I allowed you to break one. Besides, aren’t you always telling me we can’t break contracts? Not for any reason? That if we make one exception we will have to make a thousand?”
“That is normally true, majesty. There are always dukes, merchant princes, and rulers who believe that rules don’t apply to them. They all assume that they can wager as much as they want and keep the winnings, but receive recompense should they lose. Or they have a wonderful time in the pleasure houses, only to regret the cost come the morning. Or they sign a poor contract and try to pretend they never wrote their signature. In those cases, we must force people to hold to their choices, or else agreements will mean nothing, and business will fall to pieces.”
“And how is this different?”
“Everything that touches Avalon is different. Nothing about them is ever what it seems. If a White Mage says, ‘good morning’ to you, then you can be sure it is part of some deeper game. Everything they do has some hidden meaning to it.”
“Unless they just want to say good morning. Have you ever thought of that?”
She always picks the worst times to think for herself! Just agree with me, idiot! “Majesty, you know what their goal is. The events to the south must be worse than they let on. The barbarian woman entering the tournament at this moment is no coincidence. The White Mages have always spoken against the games and called them murder. Yet now they want to participate? They have always demanded the drow be exterminated, or at the very least expelled.”
“Something you agree with,” Madis wagged a finger at him.
We could replace you! He thought angrily. We could find some obedient peasant girl and give her this false image and your voice! We could have a real puppet who understands her place! He and Leiznam had considered it, but they’d rejected the idea. The queen had to deal with other royals and many of her own nobles. What if some of them noticed some odd behavior and suspected the truth? The risk was too great, at least so long as Madis was pliable to most of their ‘suggestions.’ If she caused too many problems he and Leiznam would have to revisit the idea.
“True,” he said trying to sound patient. “But hardly the point, majesty. Despite all their declarations and protests, one of them met and conspired with the drow. Then, Valeria placed a massive bet on the barbarian. This is obviously all part of some scheme.”
“Hasn’t Valeria placed bets before?”
“Yes, majesty. She has. Though before this she always placed her bets on Varca. And none of those were nearly as large as this one. She is wagering a staggering amount, easily the largest bet ever placed in any gaming house.”
“You know the drow don’t value gold the way we do. Why does the amount matter? Aren’t all bets the same?”
The gaming houses of Torikai were famous for their willingness to accept any bet for any amount, and for always paying out to winners. WE HONOR ALL BETS was much more than a saying. It was a guarantee that wealthy betters from all over the Shattered Lands relied on. They could not be seen to refuse payment on a bet. Which left the guild in a precarious situation.
He gave his queen a little pout she usually found adorable. “The drow leader placing the largest bet in history on a participant who works for a White Mage whose order has always condemned the event she is participating in. Your majesty, if that is not an exception I can’t imagine what would be.”
Madis took another biscuit and looked at her image in the mirror. “All contracts are sacred. What else?”
Garibaldi wanted to continue the discussion but knew better. Madis had made up her mind and did not take well to being corrected or told she was wrong. The guild would need to figure something else out.
“King Dubois wishes to offer you a special gift prior to your birthday. He was hoping for a private audience where he could…”
XXX
“Keep your guard up!” Restes yelled and slapped the wooden practice sword aside with his own. “How do you expect to survive even one match?”
“I’ll bash their heads in with my fist,” Belle said truthfully. “You don’t need to be so mean about it.”
“Your master gave me eleven silver coins to give you as much training as I can. I’m a man of my word, and so I’ll do what I can. Even if it is a waste. Now get in a fighting stance.”
Belle sighed. At the very start, this had been sort of fun. Learning to swing a sword like a real barbarian. But it had stopped being entertaining a while ago. All Restes did was yell a lot and make her do the same thing over and over and over. It was boring and no fun.
But it’s what master wants. With a sigh, Belle spread her feet apart, turned sideways towards Restes, and held the wooden sword out in front of her at shoulder height. Or at least at the shoulder height of the illusion. In reality, it was closer to navel than shoulder. Restes lunged forward with a thrust. Belle swung her sword to block, but the thrust through and landed on what looked like Belle’s shoulder.
“Too slow, too weak, and too damn clumsy!” Restes declared. “I’ve met half trained novices with missing fingers who were more agile than you!”
“Do you ever say anything nice? I might do better if you were encouraging.”
Restes shook his head. “I don’t understand why the White Mage is throwing his silver away on these lessons. I mean you do understand that your master is sending you to die, don’t you? Except for you, every single contestant in that tournament is a real fighter. It won’t be like the matches in the fighting pits, there won’t be any half-trained amateurs there just to be slaughtered.”
“It’s fine,” Belle said cheerfully. “Master just wants me to know the basics and not embarrass myself.”
“It will be worse than embarrassing when someone puts a sword through you.”
Belle grinned. Ogres were very hard to kill. Ordinary steel wouldn’t even scratch an ogre’s hide. The minotaur might be dangerous, but there wasn’t much need to worry about anyone else.
A young woman strolled into the gymnasium. She was short and would likely have only come up to her master’s chin. Her arms and legs were well muscled. She had tanned skin and sandy hair that fell to her shoulders. The woman wore a plain leather jerkin, a skirt made of strips of boiled leather, and knee-high boots. Belted on to her hip was a curved sword and a pair of long daggers.
“Excuse me,” the woman called out. “I’d like to do a little bit of training.”
Restes looked her over. “I hadn’t gotten any women here in a long while, Now I’ve got two in as many days. You fighting in the queen’s tournament?”
“I’m not signed up for it, but if things look interesting maybe I’ll sneak in.”
“That’s good,” Restes said. “If you want to fight for money you’re better off in the fighting pits than the Arena.”
“I know, I’ve fought in the pits,” the woman had both hands behind her back and was looking Belle over.
“You have?” Restes sounded surprised. “I haven’t heard of any women fighting in them.”
She smiled. “So, can I train here?”
Besides Belle, there were six men spread out practicing with one another.
Restes nodded. “It’s twenty copper marks per day, payable up front. I can’t offer any training until after the tournament.” He motioned to Belle. “I’ve been hired and have more work to do than I can handle.”
“Okay, you’re being a meanie again,” Belle complained.
The Rabbit Great And Terrible Page 18
