The Trees And The Night (Book 3)

by Daniel McHugh

  The follower spun to see the shadowy figure fasten the door. The figure moved forward into the candlelight and extended a hand toward him.

  “We rarely do business together, but I assume I have no need to introduce myself or any of the men seated before you.”

  The follower showed no surprise as he rose and took the hand of Prophar, the Lord Chamberlain of Rindor. The pair shook hands. Prophar turned and moved toward an empty chair at the head of the table.

  “The men stationed around this table represent the heart and soul of commerce in and around Rindor,” announced Prophar as he seated himself. “Literally the lifeblood of Rindor flows from the toil and labor we provide the kingdom. Master Clitch runs the estate of the Jinlo family to the west. Mutton, wool and timber flow throughout both Rindor and Zodra from the estates he manages.

  “Master Olean is known to many of you. In the far South, the Pateen family relies on him to keep their wheat and cornfields properly tended so the granaries of Rindor remain stocked. The bellies of the nation are full of the food he manages.

  “To the east, Master Cayril has built an empire of trading with the Eru. His herd of horses is unrivaled outside of the grasslands of the horsemen. The Verlan family’s stock is the envy of the kingdoms due to the hard work of Cayril.”

  Many in the room grunted their approval and Cayril nodded at the compliment. Prophar allowed his words to take hold as he eyed the follower intently.

  “And now we add our new guest to our ranks,” continued Prophar sweeping a hand toward the follower. “All here know him or have transacted business with the estates he represents. A man of superior business acumen with a reputation for unparalleled fairness in all things.”

  The follower smiled at the compliment and nodded to Prophar. The Lord Chamberlain returned the smile and it turned wry.

  “However, he has also been known as one with the unique ability to discern an advantageous business situation and pounce upon it before others are even aware the opportunity exists. All here have missed opportunities due to his quick decision making.”

  A slight murmur built throughout the room as the follower acknowledged this compliment with a smile as well. The murmur grew as those about the table recalled such incidents. The follower scanned the crowd and saw both admiration and bitterness in their eyes. He raised an eyebrow in challenge to all. Prophar spun on the follower.

  “Wealth,” stated Prophar. “The kingdom grows and the landed gentry accumulate great wealth. The population grows and the demand for the goods we provide grows with it.

  “As managers of the great wealth of this kingdom we guide it on a path of prosperity while those kingdoms around us flounder. The great empire of Zodra cries out to feed the bellies of her children, but in Rindor there is plenty.

  “WE act as the architects of the good fortune of Rindor. WE see to our people’s future and wellbeing. WE are the true leaders of this land, not some puffed up king, his butterfly of a wife and a court of vacuous nobles.”

  The follower pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. Prophar edged toward treason. Others in the room growled in assent to the Lord Chamberlain’s opinions. Prophar continued unabated. He directed most of his speech directly at the follower.

  “Change is on the horizon,” announced the chamberlain, “and although all here are excellent businessmen, none play the great game of politics as I do.”

  “Change of what nature?” interrupted the follower, perturbed by Prophar’s assumed command of all in the room.

  The chamberlain narrowed his eyes.

  “Regime change,” he said flatly. “The house of Kingfisher rules while Rindor stands at a crossroads. Corad understands very little of the greater world. He accepts Zodra’s command to join a hopeless battle without giving a single thought to what the other side offers. Businessmen, such as we, look at a situation from every angle and determine the most advantageous position.”

  The follower weighed the comment. It was an accurate assessment. Corad and Lucyn chose a path set before them and most assuredly had not considered the option of joining Amird.

  “As I said,” continued Prophar, “our new guest is a well respected man on many levels. You have taken a sizable estate and singlehandedly amassed a fortune worthy of a king through keen business sense and an uncanny ability to see to the heart of developments.

  “That is why you were invited here tonight. I call upon you to use that insight and determine the path upon which you will shape your future as well as that of Rindor.”

  “I have already assessed much in this room tonight,” replied the follower, “and much of what I see and hear smacks of treason.”

  Protests erupted throughout the room.

  “Self preservation,” snorted Cayril.

  “Duty to save the kingdom,” growled Clitch.

  “We are taking our rightful place,” snarled Olean.

  All save Prophar protested and challenged the follower’s comment. The Lord Chamberlain gazed steadily at the follower as the disturbance died down.

  “Call it what you will,” said Prophar finally, “but use the same discerning eye upon the situation Rindor faces. Her troops abandon her to fight in a foreign sovereign’s war. Much her manpower will be lost as it battles a foe too numerous to overcome. The future results are easily divined. The kingdom of Rindor will lose her men, then lose this city as we all fall to the stone men and their masters.”

  “What alternative do we have? The Ulrog will come one day or another. We either fight now or later,” laughed the follower. “You act as if you propose we join the Ulrog.”

  The room went silent and many of the most influential men in Rindor dropped their heads and stared at the worn wooden table before them. Again, only Prophar remained fixed on the follower.

  “You cannot be serious,” protested the follower as the smile fell from his face.

  “I am,” stated Prophar quickly. “Rindor’s army is gone. However, our island has always been its own best defense. Those I am in contact with expressed concern over our nation’s ability to keep an armed contingent at bay. A prolonged siege would result. Those inside these walls could expect years of starvation and squalor. Those manning the riverbanks could expect death in the waters of the Ituan. No one is served in these times.”

  The follower saw the logic in Prophar’s statement.

  “Why then do you call me here tonight?” asked the follower testily. “These results seem inevitable.”

  “No, they are not inevitable,” returned Prophar. “The city’s defenses will function quite adequately if manned by even a very small contingent of her trained personnel. The only men left within the kingdom to attend to these duties are the ranch hands and artisans employed by the great houses or the palace. Virtually every man capable of manning these defenses is employed by one of the men at this table.

  “You yourself have been quite prolific in your employ of both former members of the Spear and retired Guardsmen. Some would say you have built a mini army of your own on the properties of your master.”

  “We are several days ride from the capital and our safety lies in our ability to protect ourselves,” replied the follower. “As you said, I built the fortune of my master and my intention is to protect those assets. True, my men come from military backgrounds. I have found they tend to be extremely loyal to those who employ them.”

  “And so they must be removed from the equation,” said Prophar flatly.

  The follower’s body went rigid and the men at the table glared at him. Now was the moment of truth. They laid their plan before him. Not all of it, but enough for him to know they stepped beyond the unhappiness and jealousies of bright men pressed into servitude, and into full-blown treason and betrayal. However, one thing was certain. Prophar correctly assessed the follower as a man who analyzed a situation and found the most advantageous position for his own interests.

  “You talk of eliminating men I’ve grown to trust and respect, men of superior military traini
ng and ability, men loyal to my master,” said the follower narrowing his eyes. “What’s in this proposition for me?”

  Prophar raised an eyebrow then smiled.

  “The properties and assets of that master,” replied the Lord Chamberlain. “Ample reward if I do say so myself. You will rule the lands and fortunes built up by your own sweat and labor. All here are acknowledge it a princely sum.”

  The follower glanced about the room. Obviously the men here had accepted a similar promise. Each was offered the properties he managed. Interesting that they chose to make this offer to him. The ranch hands under his employ were a formidable bunch, but if all the estate managers present committed their own forces, they could certainly overwhelm any resistance the follower could muster against them.

  Uncertainty. That must be their only concern. The follower kept his dealings and affairs covert. The Lord Chamberlain and his associates could never be certain what alliances the follower arranged. Did the estates of his master hold weaponry and defenses of which they were unaware? Did the follower possess a means to summon help from the Eru? Many merchants and artisans within the river city’s walls held close business arrangements with the follower. He was extremely generous in all of his dealings and the citizens of Rindor held him in high esteem. Could he lead an uprising and supplant any attempt by the Lord Chamberlain to overthrow the kingdom?

  They were so bewildered by the options he might possess that they found it easier to concede and allow him a share in their plan. These men were ruthless but not stupid. His master’s estates were quite possibly the plum of the kingdom. However, they were small price to pay for the riches all would acquire if their plans succeeded.

  “Your proposition has merit,” the follower said to Prophar. “The world is moving in a direction many of our employers are unprepared for. However, there are particulars that need work. First, it is obvious to see how all here will profit from this undertaking except you, my lord. I entertain some theories but would like to hear it from you directly.”

  Prophar grinned and leaned forward.

  “The palace and all within are mine,” chortled the Lord Chamberlain. “That is all I ask.”

  The follower pursed his lips and nodded, contemplating the development.

  “Also a princely sum,” muttered the follower.

  “Yes,” replied Prophar shifting back in his chair and shrugging, “but others here stand to gain so much more financially. In reality, I ask for a pittance.”

  Those about the table acknowledged the sense of Prophar’s statement. All intimately knew the wealth of each of their master’s holdings and could easily see it far outweighed the fortune held within the palace. In these days of shortage and hunger, land and livestock mattered so much more than statues and gold.

  “You ask for a trifling of tangible wealth,” corrected the follower, “but the intangibles you acquire are immeasurable.”

  The assembled managers frowned and exchanged questions. Prophar’s expression soured and he glared across the table. The follower silently stared back. Olean sat forward with hands clamped on the table.

  “What do you mean?” asked the big, white haired man.

  The follower smirked and swept his vision across the men.

  “I’ve dealt with nearly all of you,” answered the follower, “and all of you display weaknesses that I exploited over the years.”

  An angry murmur built throughout the room. The follower continued.

  “However, the one weakness you all possess in common is greed. The Lord Chamberlain exploits that greed now and you follow him like pigs to the slaughterhouse.”

  “Ridiculous!” bellowed Clitch.

  The follower narrowed his eyes at his sponsor to the event.

  “Ridiculous?” questioned the follower. “Tell me Master Clitch. What good is your timber and wool if you are enthralled to a new King of Rindor?”

  “What new king?” spluttered Clitch, “We intend to remove the current one.”

  “And hand the seat of power, the symbol of command to the Lord Chamberlain,” scoffed the follower. “The nature of most men is to follow. A true leader is a very rare thing. The citizens within these walls will readily follow anyone seated upon the throne within that palace. I am sure the wealth of the place does not measure that of your houses, but as a symbol its wealth is incalculable.”

  The men around the table glanced nervously between the follower and Prophar. The silence hung in the air. Finally, the Lord Chamberlain spoke in a hiss.

  “Fools. We offer him more than he deserves and even now he makes a play for greater control.”

  Their eyes shot back to the follower.

  “Lest you forget, it was I who engineered this scheme,” continued Prophar. “It is I who can manipulate all of its pieces and make it happen. He plants seeds of doubt to undermine my position. However, he doesn’t own the connections to implement the plan on his own.”

  Prophar stood with fists clenched.

  “You were a threat and a small one at that,” growled Prophar rounding on the follower. “We graciously offered you a piece of the plan to avoid any small annoyance you might throw our way, and you repay it by sowing the seeds of discord.”

  The follower crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

  “I was a threat ....?” questioned the follower.

  “Do you think we would allow you to leave this room with the knowledge you possess?” snapped the Lord Chamberlain. “This meeting was not about affording you a choice.”

  Prophar moved forward, his hand resting upon the sword girded to his waist. The follower remained relaxed as the bewildered men encircled him.

  “No,” grinned the follower. “I didn’t think you would wish me to leave this room .... but you will allow it nonetheless.”

  “What are you babbling ....” began Prophar.

  Suddenly, there was a series of knocks upon the door, three quick taps followed by a pair. Prophar whirled toward the heavy oak door then surveyed the men about the table.

  “All are here,” growled the Lord Chamberlain. “Were any of you followed?”

  “No.”

  “Absolutely not, my lord.”

  The chorus of protests continued. Prophar’s upper lip curled in disdain as he stared once more at the smiling follower. The Lord Chamberlain moved toward the door and unbolted it. He drew it open slowly and peered though a narrow crack. Those at the table tensely stared at his back.

  “What do you want?” asked the chamberlain through the crack.

  “I am here on my master’s business,” said a weak and raspy voice.

  “Who is your master?” asked Prophar.

  “Master Hunly of the estates of Manfir of Zodra.” came the feeble reply.

  Prophar glared over his shoulder at the follower. Teeg, in his role as Hunly, returned the look with a wide grin. The Lord Chamberlain threw the door wide and waved in a hunched-over old woman. She was dressed in a heavy coat and shawl. Her gray hair lay tangled beneath a dingy scarf and hung over her eyes and face.

  “It seems Master Hunly has seen fit to have this washer woman follow him to our meeting,” barked Prophar as he glared now at Clitch.

  “Kill them both!” shouted Olean, rising so abruptly from his seat to grasp his sword that his chair clattered to the floor behind him.

  “You always were a fool, Olean,” clucked Teeg still lazing in his chair.

  “Not so much a fool that I cannot slit your throat, Hunly,” snarled Olean preparing to round the table.

  Prophar blocked his path.

  “You are a fool, Olean,” snapped the Lord Chamberlain. “Sit down.”

  The big man halted and backed from Prophar.

  “But we must ....”

  “We must nothing, you imbecile,” said Prophar coldly. “Do you think all he did was order this washerwoman to follow us? We extoll the very preparedness and intellect of the man, yet you think him fool enough to direct only this washerwoman as his salvation?”r />
  Olean looked from Prophar to Teeg. The Elf lord remained fully immersed in his role as Hunly, the overseer of the properties of Manfir. Teeg displayed all the confidence that made Hunly such a successful businessman. He sat up and pulled his chair closer to the table. His expression went grave.

  “Sit down, Olean,” Teeg ordered.

  The red faced Rindoran glanced to Prophar then complied.

  “You as well, Prophar,” commanded Teeg. “I don’t like a man behind me as I conduct business.”

  Prophar’s eyes narrowed and he returned to his seat at the table. The washerwoman remained in the shadows near the door.

  “Gentlemen, it appears that I have created a difficulty in your plans for the overthrow of the Rindoran government,” said Teeg icily.

  “No plan is fool proof,” replied Prophar. “We are businessmen, Hunly. We will adapt and overcome.”

  “How?” asked Teeg, “I seem to hold all the cards in this game. This woman is simply a display of my knowledge. She is proof that I retain other, more capable employees monitoring this locale. They watch this alley as we speak. Any who leave will be known to them, so do not think your identities will remain secret.

  “I instructed them to send for the king’s guard if I have not exited safely from this locale in one hour’s time. They will report a dire threat to the kingdom.

  “You may presume your names and affiliations will save you, but I believe you will encounter the devil of a time explaining this meeting. Why have some of the most powerful commoners in the kingdom united in the dead of night during a time of war? Your absence from the properties you control in this time of terror and strife is highly unusual and suspect.”

  “He lies,” barked Olean.

  Prophar’s lips were stretched thin across his face with tension. Teeg raised an eyebrow at the white-haired overseer.

  “A lie, Olean? No, not a lie, but I did make one miscalculation,” admitted Teeg.

  A wicked smile of satisfaction played across Olean’s face.

  “I used the old woman because I thought it beneath even you to harm someone innocent and ignorant of the matters we discuss,” continued Teeg, “but obviously, Master Olean, nothing is beneath you.”