by Greg Curtis
Even the Mayor – surely!
But as she watched Mayor Sten walk toward her with four priests in tow, she doubted his arrival would bring good news. She'd met him twice thus far, and each time he'd most impressed her with his permanent air of disdain, pedantry and ability to make even the simplest thing turn into a protracted negotiation. He was an odious little toad and she’d rather not see him again – not that she would have a choice in the matter. And this time as she watched him march toward her, she suspected it was going to be even more unpleasant. He had the air about him of someone who did not want to be there. Or maybe of someone who had just stepped in something loathsome and wanted desperately to leave and clean the muck off his good boots.
“Mayor Sten.” Marnie greeted him politely when he was close enough, just stopping herself from hitting him in the face with a shovel as she so wanted to. At least it would have wiped away his usual smug expression.
“These four are yours.” He launched straight into his demands. “I do not want them seen in town. I do not want anyone knowing they're in Burbage. In fact I'd prefer it if they never existed! But you will take them in if you want to stay in Burbage.”
“I don't understand.”
“Show her you bitch!” The Mayor snapped at one of the priests.
“Now is that any way to speak to your guests?!” A woman's voice unexpectedly came out from beneath the cowl.
Marnie gasped as she heard the woman speak. She knew that voice! And though she couldn’t see her face under the cowl, she knew who it was.
“You're not my guests! And I don't know how you know what you know, but if it ever gets out I'll make sure the King finds out exactly where you are.” The Mayor was clearly in no mood for civility.
“And would that be before or after the King has your head on the chopping block?” Lady Marda pulled down her cowl to reveal her face, and smiled sweetly at the Mayor. He in turn turned even more pale than he already was.
“It won't only be my head on it, doxy! I'll see to it that your entire worthless family is there with you!” He all but growled at her like an animal before returning his attention to Marnie. “As I said, no one can ever know that these goat footed disciples are here. If it does then you and the other afflicted can find another town to live in! And you can take this worthless lot with you!”
His demands made, the Mayor spun on his heels and marched angrily away, clearly wanting nothing more to do with them. That left Marnie standing there with Lady Marda and – she assumed – her three sons, wondering what to do. Because she really didn't want the four of them staying here. It seemed though that she didn’t have a choice unless they were prepared to set up in a new town.
“Lady Marda, please put your hood back up. Not everyone here is gifted. And not everyone will obey the Mayor either.”
Then while the Lady was raising her hood, she called to one of the others to get Tyrollan. Quickly!
After that there she led their visitors around to the rear of the property where she and Tyrollan had set up a seating area where they could meet with masons and traders, far away from the noise of the work. It wasn't out of courtesy that she offered them a seat though. It was so that no one recognised them. And just for good measure, she made them sit with their backs to the barns.
“Why are you here?” Marnie immediately launched into her questions, too impatient to wait for Tyrollan. But if there was one place she would have thought the former First Wife would not want to be, it was among them. She had to know she and her sons would be hated.
“Girl, do you imagine for a heartbeat that if we had a choice we'd be here?” Lady Marda snapped at her. “I barely escaped the Hold at all. I wouldn't have save for Simone's kindness. She really is a dim-witted woman, but she does have a soft heart to go with her head. She gained us passage with one of her clothes merchants to flee Dumas Line. And then we had to keep running.”
“Now the ageing sot on the throne has warrants out on our heads. Our property has been seized – all of it. I had no idea he knew so much about our holdings, though I suspect Peri's hand in that. She is truly a cunning little guttersnipe! Our faces are on posters across the realm. And absolutely no one will take us in.”
“Except for us apparently!” Marnie wasn't happy about that at all.
“As if that wasn't enough we've been cursed –.”
“Gifted,” Marnie instinctively corrected her. Lady Marda ignored her, naturally.
“– by Hendrick! Now no one will obey a single order we give. Not even our own soldiers! The traitors! I should have killed that sot when he was a child!”
“He did save your life. If not for him you would have died in Styrion Might with the rest.”
“Huh! You think I didn't know about the path through the sewers? Of course I did. I was the one who told old Peti about them, so he could bring in the things I wanted! Like the stones that afflicted that snivelling little shit, Hendrick!
“You did that?” Marnie was shocked.
“They were supposed to be picked up by both of the runts, but the gardener couldn't get it right. It's good that he's dead now. But if he had done what he was told I would have been rid of that bitch Peri, and none of this would have happened.”
“You still tried to seize the throne!” Marnie thought she should point out a few obvious truths to the woman before she continued blaming everyone but herself. And privately she was wondering how she was going to tell Hendrick what the former First Wife had just admitted. Because he had to be told.
“That drunken old mumblecrust couldn't run the realm anymore! He was leading us into one disaster after another! The sot's in his dotage and no one seems to have noticed!”
“You kidnapped many of our people and forced them at the end of musket to accept more spells.”
“It was war, and they were already afflicted!” Lady Marda gave no hint of regret for what she'd done. Instead she was defiant. “And then look what that goat footed follower of S'bet did to us!” She pointed at her cheek to show the markings as if she expected Marnie to feel sorrow for her.
“Yes, it's terrible,” Marnie commiserated with her. “I would have killed you! Maybe a nice plague. One that slowly turns the flesh inside out! Now that would have been much better! Much more satisfying!” And really she thought, they could bury the bodies and no one would ever find out.
“Oh stop your pretence girl! You're not very good at it!” The Lady dismissed her. “At heart you're just a muck grubbing gardener from a dirt poor family in Combury. A family of nobodies! Churls! Hedge born the lot of you! Normally I wouldn't waste a heartbeat even thinking about any of you.”
“But now you have to?” That was the point Marnie supposed. The Lady was desperate, and now she was forced to deal with a muck grubbing gardener from Combury. But that didn't mean she had to deal with her, and she happily told the Lady as much.
“Slow witted as I expected girl. You missed what I said. I just told you I know where your family is! Why aren't you asking the obvious questions? How would I know that? Why would I know it? And why would I be telling you it?” The Lady paused for a moment to let Marnie think about it, and only started again when she saw the understanding appear in Marnie's eyes.
“Finally! I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever work it out! And if you think I don't know where they are every moment of the day and don't have agents happy to do my bidding if I don't reply to them in time, you're even more simple than you look!”
“You wouldn't!” Marnie gasped in horror and then instantly denied her threat because she had to. But in her heart she knew the woman would do exactly what she said. And she just might be able to.
“Of course I would! And just because my soldiers no longer obey me, don't imagine my agents don't. They work for stynes and they don't care if we're marked or not! If I and my family don't survive, neither will your family! I made sure of that long before I stepped foot in this piss-arsed backwater!”
Marnie sat there staring at the Lady
, trying desperately to think of something to say. She came up with nothing.
“That's better girl!” Lady Marda sat forward in her seat, a smile just able to be seen in the shadow of her cowl. “It'll be best for all concerned if you just do as you're told. Learn your place, and leave the decisions to your betters. Remember, I've been playing this game a lot longer than you – and I'm good at it! I made sure of everything before I came here, including having my people tell me about every dirty little indiscretion of the Mayor and the Magistrate. I may be down for the moment, but my family will rise again. Be certain of that!”
“Lady Peri beat you!” Marnie threw that at her because it was the only thing she could think of.
“That upstart bitch!” Lady Marda snapped. “Yes, she may have knocked me back. But it came at a cost. I never expected her to divorce the old goat! What sort of a queen ever gives up her throne?! But she did. And now she's clinging to half a trading empire being run by her eldest son, and the false glory of her youngest son who can never hold any station or title. When this war is ended and her son is no longer a hero, I will see to it that she ends up in poverty and then in irons! Her entire family with her!”
“You gave up your throne.” Marnie reminded her of that in the hope that it might wound.
“I gave up nothing!” Lady Marda raised her voice in anger. “It was taken from me! Stolen! I was given no choice at all. One day that lecherous old goat simply announces to the whole world that he's met the most beautiful woman in the world, he's marrying her, and he's become a follower of Pritarma. And I'd thought he was happy!”
“And then Simone turns up, as beautiful as she is witless, and I simply had to accept it. And by the gods is she dim! Do you know that even in the middle of a war that strumpet is running a fleet of clothiers back and forth between the cities! Trying to restock the wardrobe she lost when Styrion Might and then the Hold fell! And there's even bloody cobblers out scouring the realm, hunting for her damned shoes! Why? I mean in the name of the gods – why?”
Because the entire Royal Family lacked any understanding of the real world? That was Marnie's thought. Hendrick lived in a world full of noble ideals and futile hopes. His mother should probably be gaoled simply for being colder than ice and more dangerous than a dragon. His stepmother Lady Marda who seemed to be filled with the poison of a viper. And finally the King himself who seemed to change his mind more often than his clothes. These just weren't practical people. They might be evil though. But she kept her thought to herself.
“And what is it that you want?” Marnie was getting tired of the conversation and wanted the woman to get to the point.
“Nothing too hard for you. Just for the old sot to have a heart attack. You must have some people with the gift of stopping hearts. Once he's dead, we can show our faces in public again. Simple really.” Lady Marda smiled smugly.
But it wasn't simple, Marnie realised. She wanted them to murder the King! And even if she were to overlook the potential disaster of what would follow if they were caught and the nightmare of having a dullard on the throne, there was the problem that it wouldn't end there. Because even if they did what she asked, Lady Marda would always have it over them that they had murdered the King. The demands would continue. Lady Marda had presented a dragon's choice where every choice wasn't just bad, it was a disaster.
What was she supposed to say Marnie wondered? Because she certainly couldn't agree to the deal. The old adage applied – never deal with a dragon. And this woman in front of her was Dibella herself. The Queen of treacherous deals.
She decided to wait for Tyrollan before deciding what to do. He at least would be able to read Marda's mind and determine if the threat was real. And so she waited. She also gave up on conversing with the former First Wife. It was easier not speaking. Instead she simply ignored her as she waited.
And then when Tyrollan finally arrived – a little out of breath – she told him everything she knew. After that it was in his hands.
“So, what an unwelcome surprise,” he addressed the Lady. “A present from the Goat Footed God himself!”
“Mind your tongue teacher!” Lady Marda told him. “I expect better from a man of learning.”
“And I expect better from a noble! Some cleverness at least!” he responded. “Tell me, did you really think that reciting all those rhymes in your head would stop me from seeing what I needed to? Or that that silly little trinket you're wearing under your clothes would protect your thoughts from me?”
Tyrollan leaned forward in his seat and smiled coldly at her. “Because that was dim-witted!”
“What!” Lady Marda's voice suddenly became a little more shrill. And then the anger returned. “Simone! You vapid cow!” She screamed it at the air like an outraged harridan with no one to curse. “You cloddish bitch!”
Marnie guessed she knew where the former First Wife had got her trinket from. The only question for her was whether the new First Wife had given it to her believing it would work, or knowing that it wouldn't. Maybe even she with her endless fascination for clothes and shoes had had enough wit left over to get rid of an enemy. And the blessings of the gods on her if she had, Marnie thought.
“So, you thought you had a plan?” Tyrollan spoke calmly as ever. He even leaned back in his seat as if he was relaxing. In truth he wasn't. He was concentrating, his words there only to unsettle her so he could read her thoughts more clearly. “Here in the middle of a camp filled with three hundred gifted people, many of whom can hear your thoughts? With just a few trinkets and rhymes to protect you. My, that was foolish!”
“I still have a plan!” The Lady glared at him. “Because you still don't have time to stop me!”
“Oh really?” Tyrollan arched an eyebrow at her. “Menaliss, Tara!” He raised his voice as he called for two of their people, and then waited for them to hurry over.
“Menaliss, you are to go to Combury, and there find a man called Pruit. He's usually to be found in the alehouses. When you do find him inform him that Lady Marda has given his name to the King as the man she hired to assassinate him. And when he asks tell him that the Guild of the Gifted has his name also. There is no hiding from us. Also tell him that if he dares go near any of our kin, that he will spend the last painful seconds of his life inside out.”
“You bastard!” The Lady gave up all pretence of civility. “He'll kill us!”
“I know.” Tyrollan smiled at her some more. “Tara, you are to do the same. But the man you must find is named Elden Mi and he will be found in Clover Lean.”
“And beware. Both of these men are dangerous men. Be prepared to defend yourselves if you have to.”
With that he dismissed both of them, and they quickly vanished, long stepping their way to their destinations. They might not be as quick as Hendrick was since they could not also bend time, but they would still be far faster than any others.
Lady Marda meanwhile remained sitting there, unusually quiet. If Marnie had guessed, she would have said that the former First Wife was shocked at how easily her plan had come undone. And probably desperately trying to come up with a way to fix things.
“Now you.” Tyrollan turned his attention to the Lady. “You thought to find shelter with your victims? Long enough for us to kill a king? Even to have a chance to place a dagger in Hendrick's heart? Neither will happen.”
“You can leave. I would suggest running since I will shortly release word to the town of the Mayor and the Magistrate's indiscretions, and I imagine they will then want you dead. Very dead.”
“But we're like you! Afflicted! You have to help us!” Daylon finally spoke up, realising his mother had failed.
“You're not afflicted,” Marnie answered him coldly. “You are the affliction!” And really she just wanted to kill him then and there. But she knew that would be dangerous. Touching a Royal, even a traitor, was an act of treason. It carried the death sentence. Then again she supposed it didn’t matter as the princes were carrying their own death se
ntences with them.
“Now you should leave. But if you want I may show you a kindness, much as you've just shown me. I'll grant you a disguise so that no one recognises you. A plague of boils should do nicely! Would you like that?”
“No.” Lady Marda answered her flatly. And then she stood up, turned around and started marching away. Her sons followed. Apparently she'd realised that there was nothing more to say. But she wasn't about to apologise for what she'd just tried to do. Nor beg. The Lady would never do that. Her pride was evidently more important to her than her life.
