by Guy Antibes
“So what will you do?”
“Perhaps nothing. If King Harl will be expecting a rescue operation, then why would we fall into his trap?” Asem said.
Valanna thought about what they could do. “How important is Lord Puddingfan to King Harl? Perhaps we catch him and trade Harl’s lackey for Snively?”
“Leverage against leverage,” Kulara said. “I like it!”
“They are generally inseparable,” Coffun said, “but Puddingfan likes to frequent three exclusive brothels close to the palace. He enjoys an unsavory life.”
“There are ten of us. We can cover all three and bring Puddingfan back here,” Valanna said.
“Not back here. He probably is protected by a number of amulets,” Henrig said.
“Then we take him to an alley or room at an inn. Strip off all of his clothes, and then teleport him here,” Valanna said. “However, I refuse to touch the man.”
“I don’t blame you, I refuse as well. He might not last an eye blink if I touch him,” Kulara said.
Asem smiled. “Any of us can do the stripping. We’ll have to take a robe or something with us, so these two damsels won’t be tempted by Puddingfan’s flesh.”
Kulara snorted. “I am only tempted by one man’s flesh, my husband.”
“Well said, first wife,” Asem said.
~
Puddingfan struggled in his bonds. “Let me go or it will go ill with you when I am rescued.”
“And when will that be?” Kulara said, eyes flashing. She held a knife in her hand and had already placed its sharp point on the back of Puddingfan’s hand, tied to the arm of a chair. “There is a reason you are wearing a simple robe.”
Harl’s lackey seemed to deflate. Other teams began to pop into the hallway where Henrig had placed an amulet he made to act as a homing device.
“Ah, you got him,” Asem said when he appeared with Bestik and another Blue Swan.
“I’ve just deactivated the amulet. Now what?” Henrig said.
“The letter. Our agent will have had it delivered to the palace by now,” Asem said.
Asem had been insistent that they mention no names of Pestlans in their conversations in Puddingfan’s presence, except for Snively, of course. Valanna worried more about the prisoner exchange than anything else. Any contact with Snively might result in being captured themselves, even with the elaborate precautions outlined in the letter. Perhaps King Harl would refuse to the exchange and leave Puddingfan’s fate in the hands of the rebels that she now found herself fully aligned with.
Coffun Cricket appeared with one of the Vashtans in the back garden and walked through the kitchen door.
“We will know soon enough,” he said. “King Harl should be considering our demands right now.”
“What of the Vashtans?” Valanna said. “Are they capable of making an honorable exchange?”
“Honorable?” Asem asked. “We are beyond honorable. Right now, we can’t do anything until the yellow flag is flown over the palace gate. I’m sure that wait will be a long one.”
“Why don’t we use the truth spell on our captive?” Valanna said. “If the exchange is delayed, we might as well put it to good use.”
“Well said.” Asem patted Valanna on her shoulder. “Would you administer the spell?”
Valanna nodded. “First, let’s clean Puddingfan up.” She peered at him and said, “Worry!”
As expected, he slumped in his bonds, tipping over, along with the chair that he was tied to. They struggled to get him upright while the spell did its work of dissipating any number of compulsion spells.
He finally opened his eyes. “Miss Almond. Somehow I expected to see you here.”
“I’m not happy to see you. Where is Podor Feely?” Valanna said.
“Feely?” Puddingfan shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have the foggiest idea.”
“How about Snively? Horace Beanmouth’s clerk?”
“That toad?”
Who was Puddingfan to call anyone a toad, Valanna thought. “Where is he?”
“He is the guest of our august King, Harl Crustwillow.”
“Where in the palace do you have him?” Asem asked.
“In a comfortable dungeon.”
“Has he been harmed in any way?” Valanna thought someone had briefed Puddingfan on how to talk while under a truth spell.
Puddingfan shrugged. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Will King Harl exchange you for Snively?” Valanna said.
Puddingfan struggled with his answer. “He will, but I’m not so sure the Vashtans will let him.” He looked up at Henrig, who must have been the most threatening figure in the room to him. “I know how you people think.”
“How do we think?” Henrig said.
“That we are just pawns in your efforts to rule the world. King Harl and I will throw you out.”
“And how will he do that?”
Puddingfan made a face. “He will kill all of you as soon as he takes care of Valanna Almond. He needs you to kill her.”
Valanna put Puddingfan to sleep. “That wasn’t very productive. I already knew everything he said, except for the confirmation that Snively is in a prison cell.”
~
They waited a few hours, and after no response from King Harl, Valanna woke up Puddingfan.
“What do you think we should do?” Asem said.
Valanna was interested in what Puddingfan might say.
“Storming the palace won’t do you any good. Harl has gathered most of his guards and other hired swords in the palace. The Vashtans are ready to pounce and destroy you.” It sounded like Puddingfan gloated, but Valanna could tell he was still under the truth spell.
A Blue Swan walked into the room. “The yellow flag has been flown.”
“That means the exchange is on.”
~
Henrig tightened Puddingfan’s bonds, and they made ready to appear in the middle of a designated market square at midnight.
“I know Snively better than any of you,” Valanna said, “and they are already after me. I will provide the shield.”
Henrig nodded. “I’ve already been to our landing site. It’s clear.” He had chosen an alleyway somewhere between Coffun’s house and the small market square. He pulled a knife from his belt. “In case we don’t have time to pose.”
Valanna held a long fire poker in her hand. She had remembered how Trak had used his sword to extend beyond his shield. Kulara would also shield them, while Henrig pushed Puddingfan away and grabbed onto Snively.
“It’s time,” Asem said.
Henrig assumed the teleportation pose while Valanna and Kulara made shields. Puddingfan sat between Kulara and Valanna, touching both of them. Henrig took a big breath and teleported.
Torches ringed the square as a hail of arrows bounced against the shields of Kulara and Valanna. Snively was tied to a post, barely inside of Valanna’s shield. An arrow glanced along Snively’s calf ripping his trousers open, while Henrig pushed Puddingfan away and cut Snively down. The man had obviously been beaten.
Valanna still in her shield pose had the poker pointed at Yellow Fox Vashtans and bathed them with fire from within her protection while Henrig quickly teleported them to their first stop. With shields up, Valanna and Kulara maintained their shields, looking away, while Henrig stripped all of the clothes from Snively, and then threw a robe around his bruised body.
Two Vashtans appeared and began to throw lightning at their shields. Valanna could feel the force of their spells and used wind to blow them out of their poses, and then destroyed them with lightning bolts of her own.
Henrig touched Valanna on the shoulder, and the four of them grouped together and teleported out of the square into the second stop. No one had shown up yet.
“Tooth! Tooth!” Snively could barely pronounce the words. Valanna looked in his mouth and saw a brass knob where a tooth should be.
They couldn’t afford the time to wait for a worry spell, so Henrig had to
use his knife to extract the tooth. She made a shield just in time as three Vashtans appeared. Fire and lightning smashed against the shield. Valanna could see that two of the Vashtans’ clothes had been burned.
Henrig threw the tooth away from them and teleported all four back to Coffun’s house, with Snively holding onto his bloody jaw.
Henrig struck another pose and then sighed. “I can’t detect another locator,” he said. “I glad they didn’t make him swallow one.”
“Something we can remember,” Asem said drily, as he helped Snively to a chair.
Kulara applied the worry spell to Snively, to make sure they hadn’t missed anything, while Valanna ran into the kitchen and brought in damp towels. She gave one to Snively for his mouth and pushed another against the gash caused by the arrow.
“They pulled my tooth out! Can you believe it?” Snively mumbled.
Asem looked up at Valanna for an explanation.
Valanna gasped for air. The entire operation took only a few minutes, but it had taken her breath away. “The last locator was a brass tooth jammed into the hole made by the one they pulled. The clothing change wasn’t enough,” she said to Coffun Cricket, who had just arrived.
“There were Vashtans?” he said.
Henrig nodded. “First a ring of archers began to fire at us. Snively wasn’t exactly within the shield area and caught one.” He looked down at Snively’s wound. “Valanna fired back and we retreated to the first square. I tore off Snively’s clothes while Valanna took care of more Yellow Foxes. At the second stop, Snively told us about the tooth, but more Vashtans attacked until Henrig removed the tooth using his knife and brought us back.”
“You certainly didn’t take long,” Asem said, getting up and hugging Kulara. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Kulara pushed him away, her eyes flashing anger.
“Wrong thing to say?” Asem said, but Kulara let him hug her again.
Snively attracted all of their attention. “The time to wait has ended,” he said, through the bloody towel.
~~~
Chapter Sixteen
~
Trak had to restrain himself from vaulting over the makeshift counter of the stall and hugging his former mentor. He took a deep breath. “What is good?”
“I hope you still are,” Misson said, his lips curling into a smile. “You barely caught us. We leave Zamiel tonight.”
“And we just arrived.”
“You and who else? Did you make it to Bennin?” Misson glanced at Lia.
Trak grinned. “And back. All in all, I took a successful trip filled with complications, and taking much longer than it should have been.” He lost his grin. “Valanna is now the fifth wife of King Marom.”
“What? When did that happen?”
Trak sighed. “Before my very eyes. I saved him from a palace coup and asked him to let me take Valanna with me to Torya. I would return her, but instead, he declared her his wife and, for a Ferezan king, the declaration is enough.”
“So it is over between you?”
Trak shrugged his shoulders. “She is the wife of another man, now. Who knows?”
“Who knows what?” Lia said in broken Santasian. “You speak to this man as if he is a long-lost friend.”
“He is.” Trak looked sideways at the princess.
“You are here surreptitiously?” Misson said.
Trak could tell that Lia didn’t understand the word.
“We are,” Trak looked over the counter. “And we are very hungry. Fix us something that we will like.”
“My pleasure and my treat,” Misson said. “If you ever need me, Honor and I share the house where you learned your poses.”
“Your mansion?”
Misson pursed his lips, recalling a painful memory. “Being rebuilt.”
“I understand and might be visiting you at some point. That might be where I end up next.”
“Neel is safe?”
“Should be by now,” Trak said. “He is on his way to Pestle, although I don’t think he’ll find a warm welcome there.”
Misson and his companion, a Santasian Trak had never met, handed over pasta covered with a meaty red sauce in thin wooden bowls, and then gave them wooden forks. “I would like to sell decent Santasian wine, but the king won’t permit the import of alcohol.”
“We noticed,” Trak said.
Lia was about to say something, but Trak stepped on her foot. She glared at him, but then realized why he had done so. “This is very good,” she said, struggling to keep the noodles on her fork. “Spicy.”
“Like nothing is in Torya,” Misson said. “Except perhaps the lady?” He bowed to Lia.
“Spicy,” she muttered, smiling with her mouth full.
“If you excuse me I have other customers, and then I have to prepare to fly away from Zamiel.”
Trak looked at the other man. “Guild?”
Misson’s companion nodded. “Purple,” was his only comment.
“Anything to share before we part?”
“Factions are active. Watch yourself, since everyone is exposed.” Misson looked at Lia meaningfully as she struggled with more noodles. “I mean everyone.”
Trak nodded. “Say hello to Honor for me.”
“I will. Now shoo away. I still have food to sell.” Misson gazed at Lia and turned back to him again. “Be careful, Trak, very careful. I wish I could stay, but I can’t.” He slapped Trak on the arm. “Now go.”
~
“That was very good. Bennin had spicy food, but it tasted quite different,” Lia said while they strolled back to their inn.
“I don’t really like Santasian food at all,” Sirul said. He took the final swig from a wineskin he bought from another vendor. “But then, I didn’t like anything I ate in Bennin, either.”
“I saw you shovel plenty of food down your throat,” Tembul said. “A little variety is a good thing. That might be one of best things I learned on our little jaunt south.”
“What was with the vendor?” Lia asked.
“Misson is an information gatherer,” Trak said to Lia.
“He’s a spy,” Sirul said. “We all met him in the Santasian civil war.”
“He is nice looking, but a bit old for me,” she said with sparkle in her eye.
Tembul stayed silent, but Sirul seemed to have had a bit too much wine. “He’s the son of the head of the Santasian government.”
“A noble?” Lia said, looking at Trak.
“They are more like the bureaucracy in Bennin, former nobles running the government. Misson took me under his wing and taught me all kinds of things, politics, geography, languages, swordplay, manners.”
“Manners?”
Trak colored. “A lady friend of his was a courtier and taught me how to behave in court.”
“I thought Santasia didn’t have a nobility,” Lia said.
“There are plenty of state affairs in Santasia. I learned how to dance and banter with women.”
Lia laughed. “I think you could use more lessons. Perhaps I can teach you how to banter with a member of the Toryan nobility.”
“I’ve probably already had a bit of practice.”
She took his arm and looked up at him. “You certainly could use some more.” She looked back at Sirul and Tembul who had drifted behind them. “I’d be happy continue your practice.” She squeezed his arm.
“Tembul and Sirul,” Trak said.
“Aren’t noble.”
“Neither am I.”
“In my mind, I’ve made you one. Is that good enough?” Lia grinned at him. Sometimes, her beauty astounded Trak.
Trak had to smile. “Perhaps, if it suits, my lady.”
“Ah, you can’t use my title.”
Trak shook his head. “No, I can’t, Lia.” He put his hand over hers. “We are still married in the eyes of the innkeeper.”
“Ah, we mustn’t let down the innkeeper, right?”
“Right,” Trak said as they turned into the street
where their inn lay.
Trak and Lia walked through the common area and up to their room. He shut the door and sat down on the floor.
“Want to join me in the bed tonight? Your wife won’t bite,” Lia said.
“No, I won’t, Princess.” Trak pulled his things over to him. He pulled out his Benninese sword and checked it. “I’ll be wearing this from now on and keep it by my side, even when sleeping.”
“Why?”
“You heard Misson. The factions are active, probably more active than Sirul let on. Misson confirmed it. Your uncle must be a weak king. Where there is weakness, there is a power vacuum that must always be filled.”
“Is that what the Vashtans do?”
Trak nodded. “Something similar. They seek to be the ones behind the power. Their problem is they seem to use the same strategy wherever they go. They seek to sow chaos, and then to become the power behind the power. They have advised rulers, but since they have such poor judgment, their strategy hasn’t worked yet.”
“Only because you’ve been there to stop them.”
Trak had to admit that Lia was right. The Benninese Emperor would still rule and Marom might be dead if he hadn’t intervened. Riotro might be running Santasia, although even without Trak’s assistance, Adolphus Niamo might have prevailed. “I’ve had my hand in stopping the madness.”
Lia joined Trak on the floor and took his hand. “You’ve a nice hand for stopping madness,” she said. “You will help me before the madness begins in Zamiel?”
Her request made Trak sad. “I’m afraid the madness is already here. My friend, Misson, said as much.”
Lia stood up. “How can he say that? He’s a Santasian, after all.”
“What?” Trak said, looking up at her. “What does his being a Santasian have to do with the political situation in Zamiel? The Santasians don’t have an interest in the West.”
“Then what was he doing here?”
Trak couldn’t believe he had to spell it out to Lia. “He’s a spy. He goes everywhere looking for information. He’s not an assassin. Misson finds things out, so he can understand what is going on in the world.”
