Maiden of Pain p-3

by Kameron Franklin

  "To the trash with these, milady?" the maid asked, holding up the dingy garment between her index finger and thumb. Ythnel nodded before sliding under the water.

  After braiding her hair, Ythnel joined the men in their room for dinner. Kohtakah and Muctos sat on their beds, plates of roasted mutton and stewed vegetables resting in their laps, while Ythnel sat at the writing table, shoveling the food in as fast as she could chew and swallow. At least she hadn't drooled as the first tendrils of aroma drifted to her nose. Not that either of the mages would notice, buried as they were in their own meals. Kestus had either already eaten or was not hungry because he paced the floor with an air of impatience. Ythnel was dabbing up the last pools of juice with a thick slice of bread when there was a knock at the door. Kestus practically ran to open it.

  "Master Rueldarr said you had a dispatch to send?" A young boy stood in the doorway fidgeting.

  "Ah, yes. Ythnel, if you wouldn't mind handing over that envelope on the desk."

  Ythnel noticed for the first time a small envelope with the name "Crarl Ormane" scrawled on the front. When she grabbed it, her fingers pressed against a hard blob of sealing wax on the back.

  "See that this gets to the Jedea Academy before sunset, boy. There'll be some extra coin if I hear it was so."

  The youth nodded vigorously, grabbed the envelope from Kestus, and darted down the hall.

  "So, I take it the recipient of that envelope is your contact?" Muctos asked from his seat on the bed.

  "Crarl Ormane is the name I was given by my contact. That's who the letter is addressed to. I don't know if it's an actual person or just some sort of password." Kestus strolled back to his cot and sat down. While he had visibly relaxed after closing the door, there was still something pensive about his mood.

  "What is the Jedea Academy?" Ythnel asked.

  "It is the oldest school in Mordulkin for students of the Art," said Muctos. "It was founded by Soldim Jedea, the first ruler of the city. The Jedea family has ruled Mordulkin since the rebellion that ousted Unther from Chessenta." Muctos paused, and his eyes suddenly lit up. "What if your mysterious benefactor is a member of the Jedea family?"

  "Let's not get our hopes up," Kestus cautioned.

  They retired to their rooms for the night. Ythnel inquired with a maid about a switch, which earned her a strange look, but one was retrieved from the inn's stables. She performed her nightly prayer ritual and slept soundly.

  When Ythnel finished her prayers the next morning, Kestus was already out running some errands. He returned shortly after she finished a late morning-feast. He had with him a couple of new purses of coin and their tailor-made outfits. Ythnel asked if there had been any response to his letter, but the mage shook his head.

  Lunch went by, and there was still no word. Ythnel wanted to get out and stretch her legs by walking through the city, but Kestus counseled patience. Everyone needed to be here and be ready to go should a reply come requesting an immediate meeting. Finally, as they were finishing dinner in the common room of the Flaming Griffon, a message was delivered. Kestus read through it silently while everyone else finished their meals. He set the note down on the table, pushed his chair back, and stood up.

  "Let's go."

  The brisk walk to the residential district, where the academy was located, took a little more than half a candle. The sun was just dipping below the skyline of the city, casting everything in shades of deep purple and golden orange. The houses that lined the streets ranged from simple, single-family dwellings to large mansions with landscaped terraces covering an entire block. As with the merchant district, all the buildings here showed similar signs of regular upkeep, and Ythnel wondered at the amount of coin it would take to maintain so much property.

  The Jedea Academy grounds were even more immaculate than its neighbors'. Spring-green grass of uniform height surrounded the twstory complex and was split in the front by a white granite walkway that led from the curb to an ornate, oak door. Brilliant white stone, shining in the fading sunlight, was austere in its lack of decoration. Four square towers formed the corners of the academy, and its sloped roof was covered in tiles of twilight-gray slate.

  Ythnel brought up the rear as the quartet walked single file to the door. Kestus looked at them over his shoulder then rapped his knuckles against the solid wood, producing a muffled sound that was barely audible to Ythnel.

  "You're going to have to put a little more muscle into it, Kestus, if you expect anyone to hear you," she kidded. Muctos chuckled, which turned into a throat clearing when Kestus glared at him. The mage went to knock again, but the door opened and a young woman with long, straight black hair stuck her head out.

  "I'm sorry, but the library is closed for the night. Please come back tomorrow."

  "We're not here to look at books," Kestus interjected, pulling the note from a pouch on his robe. "We have an appointment with Crarl Ormane."

  The woman's face scrunched up in a mix of puzzlement and frustration as she took the paper from Kestus. "Wait here," she said after glancing at it. The door closed, leaving the four to stand waiting out in the gathering night.

  "Certainly a hospitable bunch," Ythnel said. Kestus opened his mouth, but the dark-haired woman reappeared at the door before he could say anything.

  "Follow me, please."

  Just inside the door was, indeed, a library. Ythnel gazed in awe at the shelves upon shelves of books that stretched across the carpeted floor. She felt insignificant, surrounded by the collected volume of knowledge, and cringed inwardly as the muffled tread of the group passing through the room disturbed the silence that hung in the air like a mantle of respect.

  They came to a door and the dark-haired woman knocked once before ushering them into the small office beyond. Piles of books covered most of the floor, with paths cleared between the door, a reading chair, an overflowing bookshelf, and a desk. The desk was occupied by an older man who thumbed through a dusty tome by the light of a brightly glowing quill that rested in an inkpot set on the corner of the desk.

  "Master Thilymm, these are the people here to see Crarl Ormane."

  The old man looked up, seemingly aware of his visitors for the first time. He placed a marker in the book, closed it, and set it on the desk before standing and dismissing their escort with a nod. He wore a conical hat that covered any hair that might still be on his head, which made his thick, white mustache stand out even more. A jeweled medallion hung around his neck, the multifaceted sapphire reflecting the light of the enchanted quill on the desk as it rested against the silky fabric of his light blue tunic.

  "Welcome, welcome. I am Ovros Thilymm, Head Librarian of the Academy."

  "Where is Crarl Ormane?" Kestus asked.

  "He is not here."

  "What? But the note said we were to meet him."

  "No, the note said to come to the academy."

  Ythnel tensed. This conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn. They had no weapons, but she was sure she could take the old man out before he could call to any hidden allies.

  "Don't play word games with me," Kestus fumed. "The note was signed by Crarl Ormane."

  "I assure you I am not playing a game. Crarl Ormane is not here because it would be impossible for him to. He is nothing but a name."

  "You were right," Muctos muttered. Kestus nodded, but frustration still showed on his face.

  "Fine, so we're not going to meet Crarl. Who are we going to meet? Or was there some other reason we were invited here?"

  "You can relax," Ovros said, looking right at Ythnel as though he had read her mind. He was more observant than she gave him credit for. "You are going to meet the person you came here to see. Let's go upstairs." He scooted past them and led them back out through the library to a door in the middle of the back wall. The librarian put his medallion against the wood of the door and uttered something unintelligible. A chime sounded, and the door swung open as the single, clear note faded away.

  Ovros followed the hal
lway behind the library to the right until it came to a flight of metal stairs that led both up and down. He began to climb, the clanging of his steps echoing off the stones of hall. The four looked at each other before Kestus started up the stairs. Muctos shrugged and began his ascent, followed by Kohtakah, who navigated his crutches awkwardly. With a quick look back down the hall, Ythnel brought up the rear.

  The stairs ended at a landing with another door. Again, Ovros put his medallion to the wood and spoke the command to open it. Another hallway stretched beyond, lined with doors on either side every ten feet or so. Ovros stopped before the third on their left and knocked.

  "Come in," came the response in a deep, commanding voice. The door swung open at the librarian's touch, and he stood aside to let the four enter.

  "I'll be here when you are finished," he said and turned to leave.

  The room they were in appeared to be some sort of lounge. There were four overstuffed chairs set about the room, each with their own end table and candelabra. Thin bookshelves stood against the walls at odd intervals. Another door stood closed in the far wall.

  The dominant feature of the room, however, was the imposing figure who stood in the center of it. Thick, shoulder-length gray hair framed a square face and was held back by a gem-encrusted gold band at the temples and forehead. Bushy eyebrows drooped over sparkling eyes, and a neatly trimmed beard ran along the jawline before surrounding a broad mouth. A thick cape dyed red hung over a loose silk robe of deep purple.

  "I apologize for all the secrecy," the man said in the same strong voice Ythnel had heard from outside. She started in surprise just the same then blushed when she realized she had been staring, captivated by the physical specimen before her. "If my presence here, my connection to you, were to be known, much planning would be ruined and lives possibly lost."

  "Who are you?" There was something in Kestus's voice, as if he already knew the answer, but couldn't believe it. "We know Crarl Ormane is a phantom."

  "I am Hercubes Jedea, king of Mordulkin."

  Kestus nodded slowly, his face betraying his inability to come to terms with the revelation.

  "So you were going to help us," Muctos breathed.

  "Yes, I answered Kestus's inquiries through a third party, so as to remain anonymous. Don't look so shocked," Hercubes said to Kestus, in response to the furrowing of the mage's brow. "I've known about the society for a while, but I didn't dare to make contact until everything was in place. In fact, I know more than you may realize, Kestus Aentius, Muctos Dapri-tus, and Ythnel Duumin, though I am surprised to see the werecreature is still with you."

  Ythnel could not keep her jaw from dropping open. It was one thing for him to know the mages' names, but how would he know about her. She had never set foot outside of Thay until a few tendays ago.

  "Well, you waited too long, your majesty." Anger bolstered Kestus's voice, and there was a fire in his eyes. "The society is dead."

  "But you are here," Hercubes replied, "and that will do." He met Kestus's gaze, but his voice softened as he continued. "I am truly sorry for the loss of your friends. Do not turn your anger upon me, though. The Karanoks are the ones responsible. We can still exact vengeance upon them."

  "I'm listening," Kestus said.

  "Mordulkin and Luthcheq have long been enemies, as I am sure you are aware. While we have been able to turn away invasions, we were too small to mount an offensive of our own. So we waited, biding our time until the fanaticism of the Karanoks created enough instability in the city that we could strike.

  "That time has come. What we lack in armies, we make up for in arcane resources. This academy, which my ancestor built, has produced many skilled wizards loyal to Mordulkin and her cause. Luthcheq's edict against magic will end, and the Karanoks will be destroyed.

  "There is one obstacle still in our path, however."

  "Witchweed," Kestus answered.

  "Yes, witchweed. The Karanoks have enough of the cursed plant to stop a legion of wizards. We cannot succeed as long as it remains in the Karanoks' possession. My agents have learned the location of three stockpiles kept within the city limits. If those were eliminated, the forces of Mordulkin could sweep in and take Luthcheq long before new crops grew come next harvest.

  "That was what I was hoping your society would accomplish. It is what I'm still hoping you will accomplish."

  "What about your agents?" Muctos asked.

  "Unfortunately, I have not heard from them in tendays. I fear they may have been discovered and disposed of."

  "And you expect us to go back into that city of madness? Forget it. Unlike Kestus, I lost everything when I left. I'm not about to throw away my life trying to return."

  "I understand," Hercubes said. "You will be welcome here in Mordulkin, if you wish to stay. What about you?" he asked Kestus.

  "I'll do it," Kestus said. "I owe it to the others to see this through. I'm not sure if I can do it alone, though."

  "I would go, but I think I would be more of a hindrance in my present condition," Kohtakah said, disappointment thick in his voice.

  "I'll go," Ythnel said. They all turned to look at her.

  "There is retribution to be meted out and a debt to be paid." Ythnel braced herself for the inevitable protest, but all she got were knowing nods from both Kestus and Hercubes.

  "Then it is decided. There are a few details to see to, but they can be taken care of in the morning. Tonight you will return to your rooms at the Flaming Griffon and sleep well. What aid I can give will be waiting for you when you leave.

  "Farewell, my friends. May Mystra watch over you."

  The carriage rolled past the East Gate and into the city at a leisurely pace. The streets of Luthcheq were filled with revelry, its citizens out in force to celebrate Midwinter. Ythnel pulled her fur jacket tightly around her; the carriage did little to keep the chill of the air out, or the dull roar of the festivities.

  "It will probably snow before the night is over," Kestus commented from his seat opposite Ythnel. "There's enough moisture in the air."

  Ythnel nodded, wondering what snow would look like. It was a distracting thought, and she shook her head to be rid of it. They were here on dangerous business. A misstep would mean the end. Nervous, she played with the ring given to her by Hercubes Jedea. The three rounded, red stones embedded in the silver band were smooth under her fingertips. The ring stored spells that the wizard had told her would aid in her mission. She had already cast one as they waited in line to enter the city. Her hand moved subconsciously to touch the soft, unmarred skin of her right cheek. "You look… beautiful."

  The pause caught Ythnel's attention, but Kestus looked away when their eyes met.

  "If I had never met you before, I'd.. I'd never recognize you."

  He was right, of course. She looked nothing like the woman who had come to Luthcheq as a governess. Her golden hair was full and shiny, falling in waves just past her shoulders. Deep blue eyes looked out from long eyelashes, separated by a button nose and complemented by lush, pouting lips. A blouse and trousers of flimsy, pale blue silk clung to curves she was not born with. It was all a ruse, bait for a trap.

  The carriage came to a halt with a lurch. Kestus opened the door and stepped out then turned to lend a hand to Ythnel. Their breaths were puffs of white in the air between them.

  "Are you ready?" Kestus asked, continuing after she nodded. "Naeros favors three taverns in his carousing: the Black Mercy, the Vampire's Tooth, and Bale's Bones. Two of them are a few blocks north of here; the other is on the southern end of town. Be careful. I'm not going to be there to back you up."

  "I know."

  "No, I mean I won't be helping with the rest. Taking care of the witchweed is going to be up to you. I have my own score to settle first, and I don't know how long it will take me. Hells, I don't even know if I'll succeed." Kestus gave a quick laugh.

  "I understand," Ythnel said calmly. "You do what you have to. May Loviatar bless your endeavor." She gave him a
small kiss on the cheek and stood back. There was a question in his eyes, and his mouth twisted as though he wanted to say something, but he merely nodded and got back into the carriage. Ythnel watched it pull off down the street and disappear into the frolicking masses. Then she turned and headed north.

  The Vampire's Tooth was a sailor's tavern. It sat right across from the piers, a long, squat building that blended well with the dockside warehouses surrounding it. Thin slashes of light escaped through the warped wood of shuttered windows and the battered door. Ythnel's nose wrinkled at the unique combination of salty sea air and fermented alcohol that exuded from the Tooth like the poisonous breath of some great green dragon. It was hard for her to imagine that a self-important noble such as Naeros would patronize such an establishment. Of course, the most unlikely people always wound up where you least expected them. Some of the visitors to the manor back in Bezantur would have certainly raised eyebrows were their appetites ever to be made known publicly.

  Steeling herself, Ythnel pushed through the door and hit a wall of sound. What had been only a muffled hodgepodge of noise outside transformed into a roar of distinct activities: the knocking of wooden tankards, the booming of raucous laughter, the skidding of heavy furniture dragged across the floor, and the angry shouting of patrons demanding the fulfillment of their desires. Ythnel stood in the doorway, stunned. Waves of silence rippled out from her as those closest took notice and all eyes were turned upon her.

  "If you're lost, darlin', I'll be more'n happy ta take ya home." The anonymous catcall brought a chorus of chuckles and snapped Ythnel out of her momentary daze. Disguised as she was, she could not afford to be caught off guard in a place like this. Confidence would be her greatest weapon. Holding her chin up, Ythnel strode toward the bar, ignoring the lecherous leers from patrons and the hateful glares of the wenches who normally serviced the Tooth's clientele. She scanned the booths and tables as she crossed the sawdust-covered floor but saw no sign of Naeros.