by David Pauly
Daerahil, however, had roasted in the infernal sun of the plateau in summer and clutched his cloak against him during the cold winter nights in the high desert. Extensive experience had taught him respect for the Shardan people and the overwhelming difficulty of forcing a proud, stubborn, ancient race to accept foreign domination. But there were compensations, and he had found many things about Shardan he enjoyed: the food, the coffee, and especially the women.
Now, shaking his head, Alfrahil hoped for what seemed the hundredth time that his brother would curb his tongue about his solution to the southern war and simply allow their father more time to sort it out. He had little hope for his brother on this tangent, however. 'Brother, I suppose we must just agree to disagree on this topic,' he said again and raised his tankard of Dwarven brew as though in a toast.
'How can you drink that vile concoction?' asked Daerahil. 'It smells like a stable.'
'How can you remove three wine stewards from your private estate in the past two years, demanding that they learn their trade more deeply before meddling with your precious casks and bottles again?' retorted Alfrahil.
'Aye, brother,' said Daerahil with a dark smile. 'We both have our own vices, but really you should come to my apartments more often and let me teach you about food and wine.'
'And you, brother, should learn diplomacy from me and my advisors. You would not be in the constant trouble that you are in now if you followed my advice,' said Alfrahil.
The brothers smiled tiredly and shook their heads at each other's stubbornness in all aspects, not just foreign policy and wine and beer.
'Regarding taxes and trade,' began Alfrahil, and their conversation continued along this line for a while. It then moved on to foreign relations with the Elves and Dwarves, where they were actually more in agreement than on anything else.
Finally Daerahil said, 'Well, brother, someday these will all be your problems, and I will do my best to support you when you are king.'
'But you would wish to be king in my stead if the order of our births were reversed,' Alfrahil said with a sardonic smile. 'You believe that you could be a much better king than I. Don't deny it.'
Daerahil shrugged his shoulders. 'So rumor would convict me, but I have no desire to usurp your rightful place. Yes, if the kingship fell into my hands, I would not refuse it and would do my best to lead this country well. But our father has only one lawful heir, and that man is you.'
'Skillfully said, brother,' laughed Alfrahil, 'but I am glad that I can count on your help someday. Regarding help, another thing you should know from the Security Council meeting is that a leader must be chosen to attempt the return of a block of stone from the Blood Temple containing active strands of Dark Lightning. Do not push our father too hard, or you might find yourself leading that expedition.'
'Even our father would not waste my talents on such a vain task, but thank you, brother.'
Rising as if to go, Alfrahil leaned in and whispered, 'One last piece of advice, brother: end your relationship with your Shardan girl before Mergin reveals your secrets to our father and you are in a predicament far worse than you are in today.'
'My personal life is none of your business,' Daerahil rejoined sharply. 'How did you find out, and what have you said to anyone?'
'I have said nothing to anyone,' said Alfrahil. 'As to how I found out, there was a joke from Minister Zarthir a few weeks ago when he was throwing a dinner party, and he intimated that you and he were business partners, saying that he had helped you find new enthusiasm in "all things Shardan." It didn't take much digging for me to find out the truth. Luckily for you, the King is completely preoccupied with the rebellion and has not spent much time delving into your personal life, but beware: after today, you can expect Mergin to time this revelation much more closely, so keep things quiet until you are recalled from your new inspection tour and can end your relationship with her honorably and quietly. Also, Lord Mergin is quite suspicious of Minister Zarthir; there are too many rumors of corruption to ignore. I know you and he are good friends; eventually Mergin's eye will fall on your friendship. If you are also business partners with Zarthir, keep that even quieter. In fact, it might be prudent to sever such ties. According to Mergin, Zarthir treads on the boundaries of corruption much of the time, and it is probably only a matter of time before he is formally investigated. Certainly his foul personal habits are enough for me to distrust him regardless of any financial misdeeds.'
'Your loathing of Zarthir is on record, brother, as mine is of Mergin,' said Daerahil, 'but each of us has need of those that we can trust, and for some reason you believe that you can trust Mergin, and I believe that I can trust Zarthir. Who knows if we can trust any man, even each other?'
Alfrahil felt his brother's anger wash over him, causing terrible pain in Alfrahil's temple. 'Peace, brother, you are hurting me.'
'Sorry, brother.' Daerahil relaxed the focus of his mental powers that he had inadvertently set loose on his brother. Rubbing his own temples, Daerahil said, 'It causes me discomfort, too, when I use my skills even by mistake. I am sorry for my loss of control. I did not mean to hurt you, brother.'
'I know it, and I know such skills can be a burden. Yet sometimes I wish I had inherited them. Try being as blind as the rest of us.'
'No, thank you, brother. My skills have come in useful before and will be useful in the future. But let us return to what you were saying.'
'I did not wish to make you angry,' said Alfrahil, 'but to warn you of making too many friends in the wrong places. Take heed of my words before you suffer yet banishment from the City or even worse at the hands of Mergin and our father.'
'And I would bid you return to the Citadel and curry more favor with Mergin and our father, for clearly you will side with them against me as well,' said Daerahil angrily, though at the same time careful to keep his mental powers in check.
Alfrahil did not reply, but turned to leave, reaching for the door. But before he could open it, Daerahil spoke again. 'Peace, brother. I appreciate your advice and your fears for my future. I know you mean well, but I can take care of myself.'
Shaking his head sadly at his obstinate brother, Alfrahil left the tavern, heading out on foot to the royal stables where he kept his horse.
#
Daerahil waited a few more moments, finishing his fifth glass of wine. Swaying slightly, he turned and left several silver pieces on the table to cover the bill for both of them and headed down to the messenger stable to retrieve another horse before riding to the Fifteenth District, where his mistress, Hala, dwelt. Giving his horse to another messenger stable prior to completing his journey, he walked the last few blocks to the Hala's apartment building. Entering into a small foyer, he acknowledged the guard standing at the entrance to the stairs, giving him a silver coin in a fit of generosity. Daerahil climbed the stairs until he reached the third floor, where he knocked lightly. Almost at once Hala appeared. Short, slender, and dark, with a lovely brown complexion, she was willowy and graceful, something that never ceased to amaze Daerahil. Even now, as she closed the door behind him, he began to relax and accepted the glass of wine that she poured for him from his private stock.
Hala was barely five feet tall, with long dark hair sweeping down her back ending just above her firm buttocks. Her childlike face presented a stark contrast to her lush womanly curves. At twenty-three, she was in her physical prime, and her musky perfume wafted up from her slender frame. 'Tell me what is troubling you, Lord, and then let me bring you joy,' she said in a lilting Shardan accent.
Hala sat on the long divan and had Daerahil place his head in her lap. Daerahil took a look around the room decorated in the Shardan style, with soft cushions on the floor and a low dining table. The windows were closed, and the scents of Shardan food and incense filled his nostrils as Hala began a gentle massage to his face and neck. Soon his troubles were coaxed from his mind, and he enjoyed a hot bath, soothed and cleansed by Hala, before she led him to her bed.
&nbs
p; Waking early the next morning, he left Hala sleeping comfortably and slipped into his soiled clothes from the day before. Daerahil left the apartment quietly, again cursing the fact that he could not leave any evidence of his visits to Hala for any to find. He was taking enough of a chance by keeping some of his personal wine stock in the apartment for their mutual enjoyment.
Dawn was not yet breaking as Daerahil strode steadily up to his private apartments, not seeing or noticing that a Shadow had followed him the day before and now was following him home, soon to tell his tale to Mergin.
#
Daerahil strode into his apartments. Seeing the first of his servants rising, he bade the man prepare a bath and some breakfast. Marda, his head woman, was just emerging from her small room off of the great room in the middle of his dwelling. Dark haired and a bit plump, Marda had run Daerahil's household for twenty years. In her mid-fifties, she had never married, devoting herself to tending to Daerahil who she regarded as her own prodigal son. She approached him with a small bow and said, 'I hope your night was restful, Lord, after all the ruckus that you caused in the Council chamber yesterday.'
'Has rumor of those events spread that quickly?' asked Daerahil in surprise.
'Yes, my Lord. The entire City is abuzz with your insults to Lord Mergin, so be careful, Lord, I beseech you.'
'Even you, Marda? Now you sound just like that worrywart brother of mine.'
'You should listen to him, my Lord, for he is always in good odor with the King and his ministers, and I know that he cares for you and wishes you well. But speaking of odor, where were you last night?' She sniffed at his clothes with exaggerated dismay.
'You know very well where I was,' Daerahil replied. 'I was on official business. Let us say no more about it.'
'Yes, Lord. Come, your bath is ready.'
Daerahil bathed, breakfasted, and put on his mail, preparing for the first day of his new command.
CHAPTER FOUR: RANDOM CONVERGENCE
Alfrahil left the Security Council meeting and spent the night in his royal chambers having a quiet dinner alone. He rose early the next day, determined to take a ride to the village of Amarant, located just past the Out-Walls, to clear his head and spend the night with his close friend Beldar, his former mentor now retired to his country estate.
Saddling his horse, he began a steady trot down to the Sixteenth District and across the plain of Sisera. His horse's hooves echoed underneath him as he crossed the bridge over the rock quarry through the Great Escarpment. After pausing for an early lunch and to water his horse at a nearby tavern, Alfrahil remounted, knowing he had another hour before he reached the Great Wall.
As he approached the wall, he heard and felt the metallic crunch of the shoe on his horse's left forefoot give way, causing a slight stumble in the animal's stride. Alighting from the saddle, he checked the hoof; seeing the shoe cracked straight through, he grumbled to himself. Luckily, the royal messenger stables were nearby. He walked his horse toward the buildings, determined to have him shod as quickly as possible, so that he could enjoy a restful day in the country.
The sentries at the stables snapped to attention as he entered. Alfrahil was immediately overwhelmed by the stench of horse excrement, visible from the outer chamber, revealed in great piles from the little daylight coming in from the doorway. The acrid odor of stale urine, both human and equine, was equally revolting.
Alfrahil made his way to a high wooden counter behind which stood a sergeant of the guard busily filling out forms and grumbling under his breath as if the task were beneath him. When Alfrahil politely coughed, the sergeant, without looking up from his papers, said, 'Mind your tongue; I will speak with you once I am finished.'
Amazed at the man's temerity, Alfrahil spoke ringingly. 'Where is your captain, Sergeant?'
Starting and staring, the sergeant recognized the Crown Prince. After stammering out an apology, the sergeant said, 'Captain Dunner is indisposed and not to be disturbed, my lord. He left strict orders.'
'Did he indeed?' asked Alfrahil. 'Sergeant, are you now hoping for a reassignment to the Azhar frontier for the next year? For it certainly seems that way.'
'No, sir,' the sergeant replied. 'I just... beg your pardon, sire. I'll take you to him right away.'
The sergeant bellowed to a nearby corporal to take over the stables until he returned. He then escorted Alfrahil out the door and down the main way, a short distance from the Great Gate, before turning into a series of smaller and smaller streets and plunging down a short stair into the musky dankness of a series of houses of ill repute. Few people were about except for some joy girls who had not found a customer the night before. Many of these, not recognizing the crown prince, made salacious offers. Men skulked nearby, watching with greedy ferret eyes glinting under hooded cloaks.
Alfrahil was angry that these houses were in existence again after Creon's strict orders to close them down had been issued last year, much less operating so boldly. Ignoring the stares of these vile denizens, Alfrahil wore a grim smile, following the sergeant through the door of one of the larger establishments, the Red Lantern.
Alfrahil noticed a small waiting room, with bawdy paintings on one wall and a bar of sorts along another. The smells of stale sweat and cheap perfume and other less savory odors came from the interior. Tawdry cloth-covered couches and worn wooden chairs were scattered over the floor. The mid-morning light seeped in through the open door as if wary of what it might find. Small lamps with feeble flames kept shadows moving in an endless dance around the room.
Two soldiers, sprawled on a couch, recognized Alfrahil and snapped to attention. Otherwise the room was empty. Alfrahil ordered one of the soldiers to run back to the stables to fetch reinforcements and ordered the other soldier to guard his person.
The stable sergeant bellowed, 'Captain Dunner, you are needed downstairs immediately! There is no time for delay!'
Waiting for Dunner, Alfrahil saw nothing upon the counter, so he looked behind it. There, tucked under the bar, he saw what appeared to be a ledger of some kind. Upon opening it, he immediately saw the names of two of the King's most favored courtiers and one of his minor ministers.
His perusal of the ledger was interrupted by the jingle of chain mail and the cadence of well-drilled men marching at double time. Alfrahil looked up to see the soldier he had dispatched return with twenty men of the guard platoon. Closing the book and placing it upon the counter, Alfrahil addressed the platoon sergeant. 'Take five of your best men and go room to room until you find Captain Dunner of the messenger corps. Bring him to me immediately.'
While the sergeant selected his men and ascended the stairs, Alfrahil waited patiently. Soon a commotion started upstairs as room after room was emptied and women and their customers came down the stairs in various states of disarray. Their protests died when they saw Alfrahil standing with a platoon of guards. The men quickly slunk away, hoping not to be recognized.
Alfrahil was content to let them go . . . for now. But he would not forget their faces or their names.
One man, however, he detained. 'I am surprised and disappointed to see you here, Minister Zarthir. While your personal reputation is vile and your tastes run to women of ill repute, this house would seem to be beneath even your questionable standards.'
'Alas, my Lord Prince, you find me at a great disadvantage. While our tastes in pleasures and comforts do not run in the same vein, you might try some of the pleasures of this particular house before you judge so quickly,' said Zarthir with an arrogant leer. 'At any rate, my reputation is what it is, but even you must acknowledge that I am tremendously valuable to our King and to the realm.'
'You craven worm,' replied Alfrahil. 'Capable in foreign trade and fabulously rich you may be, and my father may be stuck with your sneering face sitting around his Council table, but when he and other members of the Council hear my report, I suspect your seat at the table will be swiftly taken by another. Now you will accompany some of my men back to the Citadel a
nd await my father's displeasure.'
'I am a full Minister,' replied Zarthir with overwhelming confidence on his handsome face. 'You cannot order me anywhere or to do anything, unless you actually see me commit a felony, and so far all you have seen is me standing here in a mild state of undress. Therefore, unless you have a Royal Warrant executed by the King and countersigned by Lord Mergin, as the law requires, I shall presume myself free to get dressed and take my leave. Do you have a warrant?'
'No, you are free to go.' said Alfrahil after a long pause through clenched teeth.
'Very well.' said Zarthir, giving Alfrahil a half-mocking bow. 'Until our next meeting, my Prince.'
'Do not get too comfortable, Zarthir,' said Alfrahil with a sudden inspiration. 'You are correct. I cannot order your confinement or arrest you now, but that is not the case for anyone else in this house. Sergeant, arrest the other occupants on suspicion of prostitution and bring me the madam of the house for questioning.'
Without another word, but with murder in his gaze, Zarthir marched back up the stairs to dress before leaving.
Next, Captain Dunner was brought forward under escort.
'Captain Dunner,' said Alfrahil, 'I require your services.'
'Services, my Lord?' stammered Dunner. 'Only tell me your desire, and I shall honor your command.'
Alfrahil's smile was wintry as he considered the fawning, terrified man standing before him. He was dressed and without female companionship, so he had obviously heard the commotion prior to eviction from one of the chambers upstairs. 'Well, Captain,' said Alfrahil, 'for that is still your rank. You can explain the reason for the overwhelming filth in your stables, along with the lack of discipline and insolence I encountered at your command post.'
