by John Marco
“You are right about the latapi,” he told her. “I could feel its power beneath me. Lord, if only I could bring those monsters into battle against Talistan!”
“Please, don’t,” said Breena. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”
“Then I will grant you a respite for the day. But tomorrow I will talk to Redburn again. I must convince him, Lady Breena.”
“No, not tomorrow either,” said Breena. “Tomorrow is a celebration. My brother will not talk about it then.”
“Celebration? What for?”
Breena hesitated. “It’s my brother’s birthday.”
“Birthday?” Biagio turned his head to regard her. “Then it is your birthday too.”
“It is.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Or am I not invited?”
“Of course you’re invited. But it’s a Highland celebration, Lord Emperor. I’m not sure it will be to your tastes.”
“Beer and dancing girls, is it?”
Breena smiled. “Something like that.”
“Well, I am a peerless dancer and can hold my share of liquor, I assure you. I will be there.”
“Really?”
Biagio frowned. “Why so surprised?”
“No reason,” evaded Breena. “But no talk of Talistan, please.”
Without agreeing to her terms, Biagio said, “It is very beautiful here. I would think Redburn would be eager to defend it. He has so much to lose …”
“Yes, he does,” agreed Breena. “That’s why he’s afraid.
He has told me what a war with Talistan would cost. It would be ruinous.”
“Would it not be ruinous if Talistan galloped in here with horsemen? What would happen to your prosperous Highlands then, do you think? What do you think would happen to you? You forget, Lady Breena, I know the Talistanians well. They have an appetite for pretty things.”
“Do not try to frighten me,” Breena said.
“I do not have to try. I see it every time I look at you, and your stubborn brother. You’re both terrified. You both know I’m right. Yet what vexes me is why you won’t help me.”
Breena began to rise, but Biagio seized her hand.
“Don’t go,” he ordered. Then, softening, he added, “Please.”
So Breena stayed with him. She didn’t say a word for a long time, a silence that Biagio appreciated, but when she finally spoke it was to ask one of her annoyingly direct questions.
“Why do you like it here?”
“Because it is peaceful,” Biagio replied. “I can think.”
“Is the Black City not peaceful?”
“Obviously you have never been to the Black City.”
“So you do not wish to return?”
“Oh, no, that’s not it at all.” Biagio sat up and looked at her. “I adore the Black City. She is my mistress. Even now, I long for her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No,” said Biagio gently, “you could not. The Black City is either part of your blood, or she is not. For me, she is a disease. She is incurable.” He picked a blade of grass and rolled it contemplatively between his fingers. “I love the capital the way a man loves a woman. I love her with all my heart. And she is a great seductress.” He flicked the blade of grass away. “Sometimes, she asks too much of me.”
“So you are weary.”
“Yes,” sighed Biagio. He closed his eyes. “So very tired. So very far to go. The Black City needs me. Only I can change it; only I can save it from itself. Like the Empire.”
Breena gave a little laugh. “That sounds like too much for one man, Lord Emperor. Too much even for you.”
To this Biagio had no reply, for he knew it was true. But he also knew that no one would take the mantle from him. Saving the Empire was his responsibility. It was he who had craved the Iron Throne. And it was he who had loaded the imperial powder keg. Now he needed to diffuse it.
“Lady Breena?” he asked.
“Uhm?”
“This celebration tomorrow; it is for you as well, yes?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason,” replied Biagio. “I will be there.”
“You do not have to come, Lord Emperor. I know how abrasive you find us all. This isn’t Nar City, after all.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Biagio flatly. Suddenly the only thing he wanted was to be like her and the other Highlanders—isolated from the evil of Nar. “I will be there,” he repeated. “And I will show you how a Crotan dances.”
The next day, Biagio watched as Elkhorn Castle was transformed. What had always been a place of laughter was now a riotous beer hall, filled to capacity with blond and redheaded Highlanders and musicians, singers and dancers, curly-haired terriers, and exotic birds perched on the shoulders of plaid-covered travellers, all of whom had come to celebrate the birthday of the royal twins. Clan Redburn was well represented in the throng, for the party had attracted relatives like rodents. As Biagio sat at the end of a long table sipping a beer, he noticed a family resemblance in the men and women pouring into the keep. Even their children looked like Redburn and his sister.
They were in the main hall, the only chamber wide enough to accommodate the gathering, though it had already spilled out into other rooms and the courtyard, which was filled with merrymakers, as well. Breena and her brother sat together at the center table, a huge, round structure swarming with cousins. To Biagio’s surprise, there were other clan leaders at the gathering, as well. He recognized the lion crest of Clan Kellen, and studied the clan leader over his beer. He was impressive, much older than Redburn, but he showed the twins the proper deference, keeping his hands circumspect while he danced with Breena. Olly Glynn of the bear-crested clan had also come, but he kept mostly to the corners, leering at the pretty girls. Biagio knew he would need them all against Talistan—if he could ever convince Redburn to join him.
But that was tomorrow, not today. Today he was Lord Corigido, a minor Naren noble, travelling through the Highlands and enjoying Redburn’s hospitality. Everyone in Elkhorn Castle had believed this ruse, and Biagio had settled into it comfortably. As he sipped his beer, he watched Breena across the hall laughing as kinsmen showered her with gifts. She looked younger than she had before, more like a girl than a woman, plainly enjoying the good mood of the day. Redburn was next to her, swaying to the tune a band of musicians plied from their instruments. He was a good dancer, Biagio had discovered, a fact that made the emperor strangely jealous. Biagio himself had so far refrained from dancing, hoping that Breena would come and ask him herself.
But Breena hadn’t.
Biagio settled back in his chair. Listening to the music had put him at ease, and he had already drained several glasses of beer. A pleasant glassiness settled over him. What would he give Breena for her birthday? he wondered. He hadn’t come to the Highlands with anything but gold, and giving the woman coins would be horribly gauche. But he wanted to give her something. In his drunkenness he felt a great generosity, and he wanted to repay the things Breena had given him. Very slowly, he was recuperating. The world still remembered Renato Biagio as a butcher and a madman, but day by day that old Biagio was fading, being replaced by a changed man. Someday the world might see that change in him, but even if it never did, Biagio knew that great turns had occurred in his life. Gradually, he was climbing from the pit of derangement. And in some small way, Breena was lending a hand.
“Lord Corigido?” a voice interrupted.
Biagio looked up from his beer and saw Olly Glynn hovering above him. The clan leader put one foot on the bench.
“Yes?” said Biagio.
“I am Olly Glynn,” declared the Highlander. “Head of Clan Glynn.”
“Good for you,” said Biagio, and went back to his beer.
Glynn put his mug down noisily. “What’s a Naren lord doing in the Highlands?” he asked. “Are you on your way to Talistan?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you thought you’d use Redburn’s cast
le as an outhouse, eh? Just a quick stop before going to see your real friends?”
Biagio put down his drink. He had never been in a brawl before, but the strength from the drug had never really left him. When he was angry, it came flashing back. “I was having a good time enjoying the music,” he said. “Now go away, before you make me angry.”
“Oh! And what will you do to make me go, Naren? Spray perfume in my face?”
“Nothing as silly as that. I will merely report back to the emperor that you were rude to me, Olly Glynn. Then the emperor will send his Shadow Angels to your home, and they will drag you outside in the middle of the night. And while your family watches, they will slowly peel the skin from your fat body.” Biagio’s smile became enormous. “How does that sound to you?”
Glynn’s arrogance melted away. “You know the emperor well?”
“Let’s just say we’re dangerously close.”
“Indeed? Then perhaps you’ll pass a message on for me.” Glynn took a seat next to Biagio. “Tell his Greatness that the Eastern Highlands has need of him. Tell him to get off his Iron Throne for once and do something about Talistan. Do you think you could handle that, Corigido?”
“Certainly. I’ll be sure to tell him who the message came from, as well.”
“I’m serious,” said Glynn. “You Narens have been burying your heads in the sand. You have no idea what’s going on in Talistan, or in the rest of the Empire.”
“And you do?”
“I know more than the emperor does, I’d wager. Does he know that Tassis Gayle has been building up his armies? And that he’s in league with Duke Wallach of Gorkney?”
Biagio almost choked. “Wallach? What’s his business in Talistan?”
Glynn leaned closer and whispered, “Ships. He’s been supplying Gayle with an armada, straight from his own merchant fleet in Gorkney. I’ve heard rumors that they’re planning a move against the Black City.”
“How do you know this? My own people …” Biagio stopped himself. “Err, the Roshann; the emperor’s people, I don’t think they’ve heard about this at all.”
“You see?” said Glynn smugly. “Maybe the emperor should spend more time around the Highlands, instead of lying around the bathhouse with slave boys.”
Biagio bristled. “What else have you heard? Tell me, so that I can report back to the emperor.”
“That’s it, mostly. I hear things because I travel, or at least I used to before the border was closed. Redburn is as bad as the emperor, hiding out here in Elkhorn, but my clan still trades with Talistan some, when we can.”
“But what about these ships? Can you tell me nothing more of them?”
Glynn’s smile betrayed his satisfaction. “There’s something big happening in Aramoor. From what I’ve heard, Elrad Leth has been enslaving the Aramoorians, conscripting them to work on some big project. All of Aramoor is sealed off, guarded by Talistanian soldiers. None of my people can get in. Nor can any other traders, for that matter. I’ve heard this has something to do with those ships.”
“A shipyard?” Biagio mused. It didn’t make sense. Why take ships from Gorkney to Aramoor? There was no way to reach the Black City from there, not without first sailing back to Gorkney and then around the Empire. And that voyage would take weeks. “I don’t understand. What else have you heard?”
“That’s it,” said Glynn. “Wallach is taking ships to Aramoor.” He shrugged. “As I said, maybe the emperor should find out for himself.”
“Yes,” said Biagio. “Maybe he should. But what about Redburn? Doesn’t he realize how much is at stake here? For God’s sake, it’s his country!”
Glynn became pensive. “Ah, Redburn. A good man, but young; and too cautious for his own good. He sees what’s happening. He’s not stupid.” The Highlander looked down into this beer. “He’s just afraid.”
The word lingered in Biagio’s mind. Everyone was afraid. Fear was the Empire’s newest plague. Biagio put the mug to his lips and took a pull, considering Glynn’s news. It had been a long time since he’d heard from Wallach. He had almost forgotten the vindictive duke. But Wallach remembered him, that was obvious. How could he forget the man who’d decapitated his daughter?
Tassis Gayle is pulling strings, thought Biagio. Who else has he brought against me?
“This is all you know?” he asked. “Nothing more about Wallach?”
“No more, but at least I’ve gotten your attention. You are as white as snow, Corigido. I’m pleased to see that I’ve frightened you. Now all you have to do is frighten the emperor, and maybe we’ll see some action.”
“I will tell him,” said Biagio.
“Bah, you will not,” scoffed Glynn. “Talistan is too important to you Narens.”
“I will tell him,” Biagio insisted. “Why do you doubt me?”
“I don’t doubt you, Corigido. I don’t even know you. It’s your emperor I have no faith in. Even if he hears the news, he will do nothing. He is an arrogant devil, and I’m sure he cares nothing about Aramoor, or the Highlands.”
“You are wrong. You don’t know the emperor as I do.”
“But I know about Narens. I have been around many years, a lot longer than you have, friend.”
I doubt that, thought Biagio. He said, “You do not know the emperor. When I tell him about the problems in the Highlands, he will help. But he will need your allegiance. Things are bad for him in Nar City. You will have to fight against Talistan yourselves. Are you prepared for that?”
Glynn squared his shoulders. “I am always ready to fight.”
“And Redburn? Can you convince him to fight as well?”
The question deflated the clan leader. “Ah, well, that’s different. Redburn’s not a coward, but he’s not eager to fight Talistan.”
“I thought not. You must work on him, Olly Glynn. You must make him see the danger.”
“Yes,” agreed Glynn. “But not today. Today is a celebration.” A huge smile bloomed on his face. “Drink, Corigido! This is a party!” He jumped up and began to dance, grabbing a nearby girl and swinging her around in a waltz.
Biagio stared into his beer, thinking about Wallach. Tassis Gayle had been very clever in recruiting his allies. He had chosen a man with a huge grudge against the new emperor, and that worried Biagio. There were a lot of people with grudges against him, an ocean full of dead relatives. For Gayle to find allies, all he needed to do was open his eyes.
“Dear God,” whispered Biagio. “I’m in trouble.”
Now there wasn’t just an army to worry about, but a navy as well. The Aramoorian “project” he and Dakel had suspected clearly involved Wallach and his merchant fleet, a fleet that could easily be armed with the duke’s fortune. Biagio closed his eyes and summoned up a picture of Wallach’s daughter, the girl who had been married to Richius Vantran. Sabrina had been her name. She had been very lovely and very young, and Arkus had been pleased to give her to the Jackal. And after Vantran had betrayed them, Biagio had given the girl to Blackwood Gayle for some “fun,” and then had her head chopped off.
He had even ordered that gory memento sent to Vantran in a box.
Biagio shuddered as if a great wind blew through the room. “There isn’t much time,” he muttered. “I have to make Redburn listen.”
Leaving his beer on the table, Biagio rose and went over to Breena. The young woman was admiring another gift, an expensive-looking garment. Biagio maneuvered closer. Redburn noticed him first and scowled. But Breena waved, laid aside her gift, excused herself from the table, and went to Biagio.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “You look worried.”
“Come with me,” said Biagio. He took her gently by the arm and began leading her out of the room.
“What’s the matter?”
Biagio didn’t reply. He wanted to be alone with her, to find a place away from the noise and curious eyes. So he took her out of the main hall, past a throng of men howling around a foaming keg, and into a small alcove that on
ly a few stragglers passed, barely paying them attention. Breena didn’t let go of Biagio’s hand, but instead held it tightly as she cornered him against the wall.
“My lord, you look troubled,” she said. “You’re worrying me.”
“It’s your birthday,” said Biagio. “I want you to have something.”
On his pinky was a ring of gold and silver twisted together like rope, forming two fanged serpents sharing a ruby in their mouths. The ring had been given to him years ago by his father, and Biagio hardly ever removed it. But he did so now, taking Breena’s hand and dropping the bauble into her palm. Breena’s eyes widened for a moment, struck by the gift, but she shook her head.
“My lord, I can’t take this. It’s far too valuable.”
“It is all I have to give you,” he explained. “Take it.”
Breena smiled. “You are drunk, my lord.”
“Indeed I am. But I will be offended if you refuse me.”
“My lord, I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”
“Because you have shown me things.”
“What things?”
Biagio didn’t answer. Instead, he merely closed her hand around the ring.
“Tomorrow we will talk,” he said. “I fear things are worse than I had imagined, and time is running out. Tomorrow I must see Redburn again. You must help me convince him.”
“My lord, what are you talking about?”
“Shhh. Tomorrow,” he hushed her. “Not today.” He took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. The piece looked stunning on her. Biagio smiled. “Very nice.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Now come back to the hall with me.” She tried to pull him away from the shadowy corner.
“No,” Biagio said, “no more for me. You go; enjoy yourself. I have things to consider.”
She kept hold of his hand. “You promised you’d show me how to dance like a Crotan. Are you going to break your promise?”
“Lady Breena …”
“Don’t disappoint me, my lord. It’s my birthday.” Biagio looked at her. “All right, then,” he agreed. “One dance.”
