by David Pauly
Within the city were the seven hills of Titania, small, lightly fortified areas of the city which in ancient days had been city states. The Citadel was within the First district, atop the tallest hill within the city, one third of the way from the northern wall, just off the centerline of the valley. The smaller walls of the early city states remained, but besides the Citadel only a light guard was mounted on these smaller barriers. Most of the well to do lived upon one of these seven hills while the common folk such as farmers, orchard and vineyard tenders, and ordinary laborers lived on the flat plain.
It all seemed so peaceful, so orderly. But Daerahil had just experienced for himself how little appearances had to do with reality. Cursing under his breath at the memory of Mergin's effrontery and his father's acquiescence in the humiliation of his own son, Daerahil descended on foot from the Citadel in the First district and made his way through the Second and Third districts.
Tramping along on his own two feet instead of taking his horse gave him a chance to clear his head and let his anger begin to fade away. Citizens of the City ignored him except for those rare few who could identify him without his usual guard detachment and personal banner. Wearing only a tunic and a dagger, he looked like a rich young merchant rather than their prince.
Daerahil paused to catch his breath after walking a mile or so. Seeing that he was close to a Messenger stable, he entered and asked that a horse be saddled for his use. This was swiftly accomplished, and Daerahil swung with relief into the saddle of a sturdy, undistinguished mount and rode the mile to the Hill of Merchants, located east of the Citadel and its battlements and towers. Riding up to the gate that divided the sixteenth district, the plain of Sisera, from the Fourth district, a wealthy merchant district, Daerahil gave his horse to another of the messenger stables that stood near the entrance to this minor wall and gate complex. He then climbed the first of several flights of stairs until he reached the top of this district and walked into a small tavern, the Dusty Cloak, which he actually owned through one of his more private investments. Not even the proprietor, Carus, knew to whom the tavern belonged, only that he must keep an excellent selection of wines on hand at all times, no matter if they sold or not, and that his Frostfields ale must be kept crisp and cold as well.
As Daerahil entered, Carus came to attention and gave his prince a slightly lax salute, as they had come to know each other casually over the past several years. Glancing at the dark stone cabinet that housed his favorite wines, Daerahil gave a meaningful nod to Carus, before ascending to his customary table on the second floor of the tavern, gently nodding and smiling at several of the notable merchants who came here to enjoy wine that they could drink nowhere else in the City.
#
While Daerahil was walking to his favorite tavern, the Security Council convened, with Creon, Alfrahil, and Mergin present, along with Zarthir in his role as Foreign Trade Minister, Lord Mebron, and Ferly, the Chief Engineer. Wysteria, the sole woman in attendance, was representing the Alchemist Guild on behalf of her husband, Bufus, the head of the Guild, who was seriously ill and could not attend. Approaching her thirty-seventh year, she was still stunning. Jet black hair streamed back from a high forehead, and her brilliant blue eyes were incredibly seductive, as were her womanly curves and small waist. But it was her mind that was truly formidable. Though her background was common, she had married Bufus, head of the Alchemist Guild, and one of the richest men in the kingdom. The fact that she was here was mildly shocking to Creon, as protocol stated that only the head of a merchant group or minister of a government department could serve as a representative to the king. Mergin, however, had insisted on allowing Wysteria to attend due to her husband's illness, stating that it was she, and not Bufus, who truly ran the Guild, and they might as well cut out the middleman. Creon acquiesced this once but instructed Mergin to see to it that Bufus was available in the future. The Guild represented the largest concentration of wealth outside the royal treasury, and the Alchemists were the only remaining men who had any understanding of Earth Magic, key too many secret plans of Mergin and Creon.
'Minister Zarthir, your confidential report, please.' said Creon, beginning the meeting.
Zarthir had short dark hair and a beard much thicker than was common in Eldora. Despite his rugged appearance, his personality, small gestures, and speaking mannerisms hinted at feminine characteristics associated with the “delicate men.” In addition to his odd personal habits, Zarthir presented Creon with a nearly insolvable problem: he was incredibly skilled at foreign trade agreements, forging economic alliances with other Men and the other races. He was well known, however, as a complete moral reprobate, throwing lavish parties where he was known to enjoy the company of common joy girls and rumored to enjoy the pleasures of young men as well, facts which deeply offended Creon's sense of moral purity. Still, Creon had to acknowledge that Eldora's coffers had swelled considerably with Zarthir's help, and trade was better than in over a hundred years.
Zarthir's background was another point in his favor. He was from a rich and ancient Eldoran family of the purest pedigree. His father, Parlan, was the heir to an extensive trading business that had grown the family fortune steadily for decades. But just after reaching adulthood and taking control of the company, Parlan had made a critical mistake, taking an enormous risk on a business venture in Shardan that had failed utterly when the caravan carrying the money to finance the venture was ambushed on the royal road to Karnag and all the money lost. Facing financial ruin, Parlan had begged Creon to protect him from the creditors besieging him, pointing out that the realm bore at least some responsibility for the loss of his treasure.
Creon, initially inclined to aid him, was stung by the implied criticism of his security and threw Parlan to the mercies of the civil courts. Quickly bankrupt, Zarthir's father ended his life in shame, dangling from a rope in his own house. Many years later, Creon initially feared that Zarthir would bear him anger and resentment over his father's death and probed his mind when Zarthir was recommended for promotion to ministerial rank. Finding nothing at all, Creon was content and allowed Zarthir to ascend to his status. Mergin informed Creon that Zarthir's primary goal was the award of a landed hereditary title, which would protect him according to Eldoran law from any lawsuits save those brought by a Royal Warrant. Creon hinted at giving this to Zarthir, knowing full well that he would never grant such a title to a person so unsavory in his private life. Creon intended to use Zarthir for as long as Zarthir was useful to both Creon and the realm.
Zarthir cleared his throat and began to speak in his odd, lisping voice. 'The two provinces overseen by Prince Daerahil generated more foreign revenue than the other eight Shardan provinces combined. Even if we add in the revenues from our trading missions and customs from abroad, the two provinces of Voth and Kraylor are still the best producers of foreign revenue. Of course our Customs revenues on imported goods into Eldora from the Dwarves, Elves, and Men not subject to Eldoran law may be far greater, but I do not have those details available. Also, the casualties of Eldoran and Kozaki soldiers, troop transport costs, and training costs for new soldiers and tax collectors is less than a tenth of what it was before Prince Daerahil took over. When you add these figures together, it is impossible to ignore the success of Prince Daerahil's reforms.'
'We will return to this in a minute,' said Creon irritably, 'but despite his successes, my son's transfer will stand. Now,' addressing Minister Ferly, chief of the Engineering corps, 'about the upcoming mission to Plaga Erebus. Has there been any progress made?'
Ferly was a slight, stoop-shouldered man in late middle age, with dark brown eyes set deeply into a clever looking face. His mind was reputed to be incredibly sharp, as good with engineering and stone work as Daerahil's was at commanding men in battle. His voice, roughened from years in mines and stone quarries, breathing in vast quantities stone and coal dust, rasped.
'We have not yet found away to break the stone that comprised the Sanguine Templar, t
he so-called Temple of Blood, but thanks to our friends among the Alchemists, we have made a key discovery, my Lord.' Pausing, Ferly gestured to Wysteria.
Wysteria nodded and stood, as was required of those not awarded an official title. 'Forgive me, Lord, but my husband was suddenly taken ill last night, and I have come in his stead, as instructed. May I proceed, Majesty?'
Even Creon was not beyond her womanly influence and, recalling Mergin's thoughts, nodded his head graciously.
'We have been able to create a way to detect the Dark Lightning safely, Majesty,' she said in a confident tone, her attempt at an upper-class accent nearly flawless except for a slight long extension on some vowels, which betrayed her common origins. 'As you are aware, this energy is pernicious, somehow stored within stones from the Blood Temple, lurking and striking the unwary instantly, causing their death. We have created wooden poles armed with metal devices of our making that reveal where there is a source of Dark Lightning, without causing it to discharge from the rock. Detecting it safely without discharge makes the Dark Lightning approachable, but regrettably we have not been able to devise a method of breaking the stone matrix, so we cannot yet retrieve a piece of the stone filled with the Dark Lightning for analysis.'
'Thank you, Wysteria,' said Creon. 'This is at least progress on one front. You know of my desire to recreate the Dark Lightning and have it run across our gates and fences here in Eldora. But what about the Blasting Fire? Has the Guild made any progress there?'
Quailing for a moment, Wysteria successfully held her fear in check. Knowing much that even her husband did not know, she replied with the standard answer already known to the Council. 'No, my Lord. The small sample that you gave us from your ancient vaults ten years ago remains under examination, and while little progress has been made on determining its components thus far, we hope that someday we will relearn its secrets. On that note, may I ask a question?'
Startled for a moment, for Wysteria had not been brought here to ask questions but to answer them, Creon said in a curt tone, 'Yes, please do.'
'What of your mission to locate the last of the Earth Spirits? Have you met with any success?'
The Earth Spirits had created the Blasting Fire and given this to men long ago, along with the sciences of alchemy, agriculture and animal husbandry. Content to teach men, these spirits had refused to be controlled by Men and departed Eldora before the Great War. They had not been heard from since. Most Alchemists of Eldora were slain during the Great War, and many secrets were lost forever, including how to create Blasting Fire. Without finding the Earth Spirits again and persuading them to aid Men, Creon knew that science in Eldora would proceed quite slowly.
Now, at Wysteria's question, the king's face took on a look of surprise and anger, while Mergin exploded heatedly, 'How do you know of our mission to find the Earth Spirits? That is a secret heretofore known only to the King and myself!'
'Clearly, my Lord Mergin you are mistaken, as I know of this mission as well,' replied Wysteria with a hint of a smile. 'Suffice it to say that there are those who are beholden to the Guild who hear many things. Perhaps you, Lord Mergin, or you, my liege, spoke once too often about this mission?'
Muttering under his breath that perhaps Wysteria knew too much, Mergin was about to reply when Creon said, 'To answer your question, this secret mission, which is apparently less secret than I hoped, has not found the Earth Spirits, much less spoken with them. You and I will both attempt to find out the secrets of the Blasting Fire. Is there anything else?'
'Just this, my lord—a new contribution from the Alchemist Guild to support your foreign endeavors.' At this she removed a small pouch from the purse lying at her feet and gently poured the contents into a nearby crystal goblet: Stones as red as blood filled the cup. 'Here, my liege, accept these blood rubies as a gift above and beyond our annual tithe.'
Creon frowned, his face darkening. Though he could not risk offending the Guild by refusing their generous gift, he knew them too well to believe there were no strings attached . . . even if he could not, as yet, discern them.
'Thank you, Wysteria,' he said with an attempt at a smile. "Is there anything else you have to add?' His tone indicated that she should say no and gracefully resume her seat.
'Only that the Gemsmith Guild has recently agreed to merge with the Alchemist Guild. I trust that this confederation will meet with your approval?'
Backed into a corner, Creon did not know what to say at first. If he rejected the stones, he would lose an enormous amount of unlooked-for revenue. However, if he accepted them, he must also accept the merger of the two Guilds. This would place even more money and power, demonstrated by Wysteria's knowledge of the mission to find the vanished Earth Spirits, into the hands of the Alchemist Guild.
'Yes, Wysteria,' he said at last. 'This match between the Goldsmiths and the Alchemists is well made. You have my approval. Formal documents shall come to you in the next few days.'
Inclining her head with a smile that was at once gracious and triumphant, Wysteria took her seat.
Mergin cleared his throat as if about to object, but Creon interrupted him.
'Not now, Mergin. I will listen to you later. Is there aught else that is relevant to this meeting?'
'Nothing in particular, Majesty,' said Mergin.
'Very well. This meeting is adjourned until the next, which shall be scheduled by Lord Mergin. I thank you for your attendance. Farewell.'
After the others had bowed and left, Mergin said, 'Majesty I request—'
'Yes, I know what you are about to say,' interrupted the king again, this time with a sigh, 'but I cannot distrust her publicly or the Guild that she actually leads, as her husband is a useless fop, without good cause. Dispatch your Shadows to see if you can bring me evidence of any malfeasance, and I shall bring her back and put her to the question. For now, she and her Guild are far too valuable as an ally to offend, though their continuing acquisition of wealth, power, and information will have to be dealt with at some point, for I see that they begin to think themselves above even the crown. But it is not yet time for that, Mergin.'
'Yes, Lord,' said Mergin. 'I shall send Shadows to watch over her and the Guild.'
Privately, however, Mergin knew that he would do no such thing. He had a secret agreement with Wysteria that was quite beneficial to both of them, and he was not about to jeopardize it. His performance of indignation and contempt had been perfect: Creon did not suspect a thing.
#
Alfrahil, seeing that he was alone with Mergin and his father, felt more confident in speaking his mind and asked what he thought would be a relevant question. 'Father, what has been said today makes much sense, but what about Daerahil's comment that Frederic is not strong enough to assume military command in his place? It is true that Amadeus is full of graft, corruption, and decay. Why, the very roads are falling apart! How can you expect Frederic to execute a brilliant campaign of occupation if he cannot even control a single principality in our kingdom?'
Creon said, 'I don't know, if truth be told; however, I am willing to let Frederic learn his tasks while he is in place rather than permit your brother's southern empire to grow bigger than it already has. You will be there to help keep an eye on him, so I can only hope that Frederic will not make a mess of things. Besides, the same senior military commanders who will teach you their craft will also closely monitor Frederic.'
'Southern empire? Then you believe those ridiculous rumors that my brother wishes to usurp the kingdom from you now or from me when you are dead and gone? Ambitious, brilliant, and arrogant he may be, but I sense no treachery in him. Do you?'
'Treachery? No. But there is something brewing in Shardan that is not yet obvious to me, something that fills me with disquiet, and I feel that your brother might be responsible . . . or at any rate involved, as I have already mentioned.'
'Then put him to the question,' Alfrahil suggested. 'Use your mental powers to determine if he is lying. If he is innocent, l
et him return to Shardan, where, as we have just heard, he has performed admirably, saving the kingdom both men and money. If he is guilty of treason, you can deal with him accordingly.'
'I only have unsupported suspicion, Alfrahil, not proof that your brother is involved in any Shardan plots. If I move against him and I am wrong, then the army which loves him more than me for his deeds and actions may take his side and refuse to obey my orders, opening the way for your brother to take my throne. Only if he commits an action where I can bring him to trial for treason or sedition can I hope to sway the army that Daerahil is in the wrong, and safely restrain your brother's ambition.'
'Father, my brother is ambitious but loves us both. I do not believe that he would want to take your throne, much less deprive me of my birthright.'
'You have much to learn about the desires of Men and the dark plots they conceive in their hearts, my son,' said Creon.
'If only Blordar were still among us,' said Alfrahil. 'He could investigate my brother thoroughly without Daerahil's awareness.'
'Blordar is dead,' stated Mergin flatly. 'Our beloved loyal master of assassins and former head of the Shadows is dead, his body decaying somewhere under the desert sun.'
'Is that so?' retorted Alfrahil.
'I have told you so,' said Mergin.
'Then why was his body never recovered?'
'Enough, my son,' interjected Creon. 'I believe that Blordar is indeed dead. True, if he were alive, he could help us greatly, but there is no use wishing for the impossible. It saddens me still to hear his name, for he was a friend as well as a loyal servant. Mention him no more.'
Blordar, who had built the Shadows into the feared and effective force that Mergin had inherited and bent to his will, had died nearly ten years ago on a scouting mission into Shardan. A single Shadow had returned from the mission, all but dead, saying that the Shadows had stumbled into a Shardan ambush, which he alone had survived.
