01 - The Tainted Sword

by D. J. Heinrich - (ebook by Undead)

  Brisbois flashed his most disarming smile. “After I’ve given the matter some consideration, Your Ladyship, I’ll report back to you. I have some ideas of my own I need to take under advisement.” He nodded gracefully.

  “Good sir knight,” Arteris said with asperity, “we have spent the last several hours ‘considering’ the matter. Enough is enough. Please make your selection now.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brisbois spotted a furtive gesture from one of the council members. Three seats away from the baroness, Lord Maldrake nodded slightly. Brisbois smiled. Maldrake was Arteris’ cousin-by-marriage and Brisbois’ cohort. “Why, Your Ladyship, I’d like to appoint Lord Maldrake, with your permission.” Brisbois held out his hand toward the blond knight, a younger man clearly entering the prime of his life. Lord Maldrake was considered something of a rake, for he charmed women easily. Most men respected and feared him, and he had the reputation of being ruthless if crossed—a reputation not undeserved.

  The baroness glanced toward Maldrake and nodded with icy civility. “If Lord Maldrake accepts—”

  “I do, my baroness, with alacrity.” Lord Maldrake, who didn’t rise in deference, was equally icy, his tongue caressing the term “my baroness.” His thickly hooded green eyes glinted darkly. “I’m delighted to attend Sir Brisbois in this matter. I have many excellent ideas for easing the peasants’ burdens.”

  The baroness responded, “Splendid, Lord Maldrake.” She turned to Sir Brisbois but touched the arm of the graying gentleman to her left. “And I think I shall appoint our good castellan to the committee as well. Doubtless Sir Graybow’s wisdom and experience will… add to the originality of your plans.” She smiled once again at Sir Brisbois, a smile that showed she would brook no argument. He shot a glance at Sir Graybow, but the old knight’s head was lowered. The baroness stood.

  Arteris closed her eyes and lifted her hands toward the vault above. “We thank the Immortals for blessing us with the outcome of this meeting and this day.” Then she lowered her arms, clasped her hands together, and gazed steadily at the council members. “And thank you for joining me today, good friends. Fare-thee-well.” The baroness took the castellan’s proffered arm and left the room. The other members of the council, a number of them grumbling quietly, followed after.

  Only Sir Brisbois and Maldrake remained seated. Casually, Brisbois stood and sauntered over to Maldrake. The blond lord tilted the heavy chair back on two legs—no mean feat—and propped his spurred boots on the elegantly carved cherry table. His hard-edged boot marked the table as he tapped his foot distractedly.

  Brisbois leaned against the table and peered at his longtime friend. “Thanks for stepping in. I’m afraid I was thinking of other things—”

  “The wench I sent you last night?” Maldrake grinned wickedly.

  Brisbois felt a momentary shudder; his friend was sometimes so clearly malevolent. Slowly, Brisbois also grinned. “Yes. Thank you for her, by the way. She was a treat—I may even ask for her again.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “But I missed what Arteris was talking about. What’s she snagged us for this time?”

  Maldrake’s chair crashed forward to the floor, and he clapped his hands together. “Hah!” he cried. “This’ll be great fun! We’re supposed to come up with ways to decrease the tax burden on the peasants!”

  Brisbois frowned. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.” Maldrake’s green eyes turned malicious. He stood and leaned toward Brisbois. “See, we tell the peasants we’re instituting new tax plans that will help them, but in reality we’ll tax them harder in ways that can’t be traced. I’ll work on that. We’ll pocket the difference. Brisbois, the baroness’ practically begging us to commit larceny!” His green eyes glinted in the lantern light.

  Brisbois felt again a stirring of admiration for his friend. “I see, I see!” he said excitedly. “But what about Graybow? How do we get around him?”

  Maldrake waved his hand. “Leave him to me. Graybow’s old and starting to dodder. He won’t be hard to handle.” He clasped a hand on the taller man’s shoulder and said, “Yvaughan has dinner waiting in our quarters. Why don’t you join us?” He added spitefully, “She’d be glad of the company.”

  Brisbois grimaced. “Is tonight a good night? Your wife waxes cold and warm toward me, Maldrake. I’ve never understood her or her moods.”

  “Perhaps she secretly resents you, Brisbois,” the younger knight replied. “Perhaps she resents you for destroying her former husband.” Maldrake’s heavy-lidded eyes gleamed.

  “Why should she? I did everything as she requested—everything,”—Brisbois countered hotly. “Without me, she couldn’t have divorced Flinn to marry you. I deserve praise, not blame.” The two walked across the marble floor and through the fifteen-foot-high double doors.

  “And I’m glad you did it, Brisbois,” Maldrake rejoined. “Make no doubt about that.” He stopped walking and turned to the knight, his face alight with new thoughts. “Have you made arrangements for our… friend?” Lord Maldrake’s look was maliciously inquisitive.

  “The, er, watcher—” Brisbois lowered his voice as a page hurried by “—is in place, if that’s what you mean. It’s unfortunate that it misunderstood my directions before.”

  “That’s what has me concerned,” Maldrake put his hand on Brisbois’ arm. “I want you there next time, to make sure everything goes as planned.”

  “What?” Brisbois exclaimed. “What if it fails and comes after me? What if I’m seen?”

  “It won’t, and you won’t be,” Maldrake leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper as two pages and a squire walked down the wide hall. “Teryl has something that will see to that. I’ll give it to you tonight. Besides, you won’t get close enough to be seen. Just make sure it follows orders this time.”

  The knight nodded, though his face had darkened perceptibly at the mention of Teryl Auroch, Maldrake’s mage. “All right, Maldrake. However you want it. I just wish you’d hurry this up and get it over with.”

  The blond lord smiled toothsomely. “If you take care of our little problem next week, all will run smoothly. It’s as simple as that.” Maldrake smiled again. “Why don’t you come to my quarters in, say, half an hour or so? I’ve got a few orders to leave with the captain of the town guard.”

  “Like what?”

  Again he flashed the smile. “Like having fifty horses ‘taxed’ from the peasants and delivered to that abandoned logging camp in the Wulfholdes. Horses we can sell to a merchant—a very reliable merchant—arriving next week from Specularum.”

  “How are you going to explain this if anyone asks?”

  Brisbois said, admiring the younger man’s temerity.

  “Easy!” Maldrake crowed. “Without horses, the peasants won’t have to pay taxes for traveling our roads. Therefore, their taxes will be reduced.”

  “Brilliant!” Brisbois said. “But what if the baroness hears of this?”

  “She won’t. Besides,” Maldrake shrugged nonchalantly, “if she does, I’ll just tell her I’m new to this taxation business and didn’t know any better. After all, what will she do to her crazy cousin’s husband?” Maldrake’s face crinkled into laughter. “See you for dinner!” The lord sauntered down the wide, majestic hallway, laughter bubbling from him.

  Brisbois called after his friend, “Is Teryl Auroch going to be there?” He detested the mage and might avoid the dinner if the old conjuror was planning to attend.

  “Of course!” cried Lord Maldrake, walking backward. “Yvaughan doesn’t take a step without her advisor. She’s given him permanent quarters in our tower, by the way, so he’s there all the time. Come anyway, you old spoilsport! We have fortunes to build!” The lord turned and continued his way down the immense hall.

  Brisbois nodded curtly. He would have dinner with Maldrake and his wife, but only because Maldrake insisted on it. And he would watch Teryl Auroch very, very carefully. That mage had plans—plans Brisbois intended to uncover.
/>   * * *

  Yvaughan leaned forward, a thin sliver of sweetmeat between her fingers. She dangled it in front of the large bird before her. It was an elegant, lovely bird, and Yvaughan never tired of watching its long and graceful form. The bird’s tail coverts were nearly twice as long as its body, the plumage fine, almost hairy. Its white tail was laced with emerald green plumes. The rest of the bird’s feathers were pure, blazing white, save for an iridescent green crest upon its head.

  The bird was a finicky eater, and Yvaughan had spent the last hour coaxing it into eating various goodies. Finally it pecked delicately at the proffered sweet and then greedily ate it all. Yvaughan sighed in relief. The bird’s shy mate, a dove-brown creature that was no less stunning, jumped from its perch to join the cock. In the potted trees dotting the large tower room, dozens of smaller birds roosted and preened. Others took wing, flitting this way and that, filling the room with chirps and exotic calls.

  Yvaughan turned around, sighing at the beauty of the place: the rosy marble floor, the white pillars, the tapestries gracing both floors and walls—all kept meticulous by a troop of servants. Potted plants of all sorts provided perches and nesting sites for the birds. From a tiny, well-hidden pool, the noise of falling water filled the air. The furniture in the tower was elegant, yet comfortable and inviting. Even the bars on the windows soothed Yvaughan’s troubled heart. She and her birds lived safe in their tower hideaway, safe from the world and its dangers. Yvaughan never felt alone in this chamber, not like she did in the bedroom at night with her young husband. Strangely enough, only the white bird and his mate ever entered the bedchamber, but even these two beloved pets couldn’t provide the comforting sound that a thousand birds could. The pair roosted at night on the rail above her head, sending Yvaughan to sleep with their cooing.

  Seated on a divan before her was her advisor, Teryl Auroch. He was a tiny, wizened man, apparently ancient, though none but he knew his actual age. He sported a mousy brown goatee, currently in vogue at the castle, and a moustache that was so nearly the color of his skin that it was often not seen. His hands, which were white and shapely, moved constantly, as though he suffered from some inner agitation. In contrast to his withered body and jittering hands, the man’s eyes were the brilliant, youthful blue of a summer sky. They inspired trust in Yvaughan.

  “Today it is sweets, Teryl,” Yvaughan complained to the man sitting before her. “Yesterday it was grain, the day before it was meat. Will I never know what to feed my lovely pets?” She placed a shallow, gilded container on the granite floor, clucking in sympathy. The two birds milled about and then began eating the sweets it contained. The remaining birds, creatures of lesser glory, fluttered near. The moment the pair had had their fill, the others would swoop down and eat.

  Yvaughan rose unsteadily to her feet, her pregnant bulk upsetting her balance. She put a hand to her rounded stomach, said a silent prayer to comfort the child within, and moved slowly to the barred windows. The winter sun had already set, so she could see little outside the tower window save for a few lights being lit in the country houses. Her husband should arrive soon. Yvaughan was glad Baroness Arteris no longer insisted that they join the other nobles and knights for the evening meal. The public meals made only for political posturing and simpering.

  Yvaughan leaned against the damask drapes that outlined the tall window before her. She was nearing forty and late to childbearing, but her figure was still strong and graceful, her golden hair still untouched by gray. Although her cornflower-blue eyes were generally untroubled, today they stared emptily. She reached a pale hand out to touch the delicate, wrought-iron bars she had installed on the windows of the tower to prevent her beloved birds’ escape.

  Baron Arturus, her uncle, had granted her the tower on her wedding day. He and she had spent many happy times together in the tower conservatory, one floor above. The conservatory’s plants and birds had inspired Yvaughan to begin the slow transformation of the rest of the tower. Soon all four floors would harbor birds and plants and pools of water. Yvaughan smiled. Her uncle would have been proud of all she had accomplished.

  Then she frowned. Her happy childhood had ended when Arturus gained a daughter of his own and had no time for his young niece. How happy I was before Arteris, the woman thought, when my uncle loved me best of all. Yvaughan’s parents had died from plague shortly after her birth, and her uncle had raised her as his own. As his wife seemed unable to bear children, Yvaughan had been brought up as his only heir. But the birth of Arteris had spoiled all that.

  Yvaughan sat on the divan next to the mage. “You’ve been very good to me, Teryl,” she smiled. “I’m so glad I could persuade you to leave your studies and join me here at the castle. I don’t know what I would have done without you the last two years.”

  “I am also glad, lady,” Teryl said in his high-pitched voice. “Though your husband had a hand in the persuading, too, I might add.”

  “Fain?” Yvaughan’s voice was tinged with hysteria. “Have you seen him? Fain Flinn is returning? Where is he?” A familiar terror welled up in her, and she put one jeweled hand to her throat.

  “Calm yourself, my lady,” Teryl responded, his hand fluttering on her arm. “I was speaking of Lord Maldrake, your second husband.” The mage stood and went to a sideboard. There he poured a little wine and mixed it with the contents of a stoppered vial he produced from his voluminous robes. He handed the glass to Yvaughan and said, “Here, my lady. A glass of claret before dinner will soothe your nerves. Drink.”

  She looked at the glass wildly, then glanced up at the wizard’s smiling face. She trusted Teryl. He was her only friend at the Castle of the Three Suns… besides my husband, of course, she dutifully added. Whatever Teryl has put in the glass is for my betterment. She downed the wine with one swallow and handed the glass back. Teryl replaced it on the sideboard, taking care to wipe it dry.

  “You’re right, of course, Teryl,” Yvaughan said a moment later, her tongue feeling thick. “How foolish of me to mix up my first and second husbands.” She turned at the sound of footsteps. “Ah, I believe my love is here now.” She gazed toward the door as Lord Maldrake strode forward, her face ht with an uneasy smile.

  “Yvaughan!” Maldrake cried, placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her cheek. “And how are you today?” he asked her, glancing at Teryl Auroch who stood nearby. The mage shook his head slightly.

  “Maldrake, I’m fine!” Yvaughan cried. “Teryl’sjust being a worrywart. Come, sit beside me and tell me about your day.”

  “With pleasure, love,” the young lord said. “By the way, Brisbois is joining us. I hope that won’t be a problem.” He sat down and mussed Yvaughan’s hair. Teryl sat down on a nearby chair and fidgeted.

  “Certainly not!” She returned the kiss shyly, then rose slowly with her husband’s help. “Let me check with the kitchen, and I’ll have an extra place s-set,” Yvaughan slurred.

  “Let the servants do it,” Maldrake said, holding Yvaughan’s hand.

  “I’m up already,” she replied, stroking her pregnant abdomen. “It would be more work to call a servant than to do it myself.” Slowly she made her way across the cluttered room toward the hall that led to their private kitchens.

  As she walked from the hah, she heard, faintly in the background, her husband and Teryl talking about her. Their apparent concern for her health made her face flush. Everything was going as planned, Teryl was saying. That can only mean the baby, thought Yvaughan. Maldrake responded with a hearty laugh—the proud and happy cry of a man expecting his first child.

  As she pushed open the kitchen door, a tiny fear rose inside her. She touched her throat again. “I must learn to be less afraid.”

  * * *

  Verdilith drank deeply from the underground stream in his cavern. The icy water sluiced through his spearlike teeth and dripped, glistening, from his cruel lips. He swallowed, and the man-sized gulp of water rolled down his long, slender neck. Seventeen dorsal plates, ea
ch the size of a small shield, shifted gently as the gulp passed by. He sighed. Golden-green scales rippled in pleasure from the peak of his massive shoulders to the tip of his long, supple tail. He stretched, spreading leathery wings nearly to the ceding, one hundred feet above. His eyes glowed with orange fire, scanning the treasure-strewn lair around him. He rumbled to himself, the shaft of air in his throat whistling heavily as he spoke, “I’ve had enough of gold and silver—for the moment. What I want is flesh and blood.”

  The pangs of hunger had started. Verdilith rolled to one side, his mountainous bulk settling against a cluster of stalagmites. He scratched the coppery scales of his belly, his vision clouding with images of something fresh and fat and swollen. He chopped his jaws in anticipation, then rolled to his feet and stomped off toward the gold and silver hoard where he nested.

  Above his bed, the vault of the cave was higher, rising fully three hundred feet. The cave was twice that distance wide. Despite occasional dampness from the spring rains, the ground generally remained dry and cool and comfortable. The underground stream provided fresh water, and air circulated in from a number of tiny, almost invisible cracks in the cavern’s walls. Reaching the gold pile, Verdilith rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling. The magical crystals he had imbedded in the vault still glowed, filling the cavern with their shimmering light. Ruby, emerald, and sapphire rays of light leaped furtively from crystal to crystal, casting a twinkling light over the treasure horde. Verdilith was glad, for he couldn’t bear absolute darkness in his lair.

  A thunderous groan echoed through the cavern, and Verdilith stroked his rumbling stomach. The bloodlust time was upon him. It filled his eyes with a crimson haze and made his enormous heart pound heavily. The desire for blood would only deepen in the coming months. Perhaps he should sate his hunger a bit now so that he could give his undivided attention to furthering his plans. Yes, his thoughts whispered, draw blood first. Then think of Penhaligon and what the future holds.