Swordmage botm-1

by Richard Baker

  “We ran into him again-but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Geran said. He paced absently around the table, organizing his thoughts. “Since we had good reason to be suspicious of House Veruna, I decided to take a closer look at their activities. Hamil and I disguised ourselves and went to work in the Veruna tradeyard for a few days, watching Veruna’s sell-swords closely. Did you know they have well over a hundred men under arms in and around Hulburg? In any event, I got to know many of the Veruna men by sight, including their captain, a man named Urdinger. Hamil and I found that the Veruna sellswords were keeping themselves quite busy, constantly coming and going from their timber camps and mines all around the area.”

  “Which is hardly suspicious,” Sergen pointed out. “All of the merchant companies patrol the wildlands around their camps to protect their investments. And I’ll also point out that what you were doing was in breach of the concession laws. The harmach and his agents aren’t allowed to interfere in legitimate business of the merchant costers.”

  Hamil grimaced. “Interfere? We gave them an honest day’s work. They’ve never had a better team or wagon.”

  “This will go faster if you don’t interrupt me, Sergen,” Geran said. He was rapidly remembering why he’d never liked his stepcousin very much. “After watching the Veruna mercenaries for a few days, I decided to try a different tactic. I set out to look into the tomb-breakings Jarad was investigating. Uncle Grigor gave me the reports Jarad had compiled, and Hamil and I set out to visit each scene. We rode up to the Highfells and examined the barrows. First of all, we noticed that the barrows were not looted indiscriminately-whoever was breaking into the barrows was looking for something specific and leaving other valuables behind. And we noticed something else-each barrow was about the same age. Each was the burial mound of a servant of Lathander, and each dated from the time of old Thentur.

  “Once we figured that out, I decided to seek some expert assistance. We went to Rosestone Abbey-a harrowing ride, since the dead walked on the Highfells that night-and spoke with the Initiate Mother. I asked her what tomb robbers might be looking for in the barrow of a Lathanderian from the days of Thentur, and she had an answer for me: a book called the Infiernadex that once belonged to Aesperus himself.”

  “The tiefling was looking for a book,” Kara said.

  “The same one,” Geran confirmed. “Anyway, Mother Mara told me that it was hidden in the barrow of a high priestess named Terlannis, and she told me where to find it. I decided to remove the book to keep it out of the hands of the men who were looking for it.

  “Two days ago, we broke into the barrow of Terlannis. We discovered a secret vault hidden under the burial chamber and found the Infiernadex. But when we emerged from the barrow, we discovered that we’d been tracked. A company of Veruna armsmen was waiting for us.”

  “And I suppose these men were wearing their House colors?” Sergen demanded.

  “In fact, they were!” Hamil snapped. “And Captain Anfel Urdinger himself ordered Geran to surrender the book at swordpoint.”

  Sergen began to reply, but Harmach Grigor held up his hand. “A moment, Sergen. Finish your tale, Geran. What happened then?”

  “I threatened to destroy the Infiernadex, because I couldn’t see why they would let us go to carry tales back to Hulburg if I surrendered the tome. But Aesperus appeared-the King in Copper himself. He seized the tome before I could even think of protecting it from him. Then, once he had it, he told Urdinger that he held Veruna’s part of the bargain accomplished, and that he would soon make good on his part.”

  Hamil interrupted. “He also said that Urdinger and his men were to despoil no more barrows. I certainly took that to mean that the Veruna men had broken into a number of barrows looking for Aesperus’s book.”

  “Aesperus teleported away after that,” Geran continued. “Hamil and I ran back into the barrow we’d just left, hoping to fight off the Verunas. We’d likely be there still, except that the tiefling Sarth arrived and attacked the Verunas. He distracted Urdinger and his men enough for Hamil and me to fight our way back out. The Verunas retreated, and the tiefling-Sarth Khul Riizar is his full name, Kara-flew off into the night, after some sharp words to Hamil and me for allowing Aesperus to reclaim his old book.

  “After that, Hamil and I retraced our steps to Rosestone, rested there a night, and set out at first light this morning for Hulburg.” Geran paused, thinking over what he’d just said, and leaned on the dark cherrywood table to meet his uncle’s eyes. “What it all means, I can’t say. But now I know that House Veruna men were the ones breaking into the tombs on the Highfells, I know that Veruna men killed Jarad Erstenwold, I know they struck some sort of bargain with the King in Copper, and I know Veruna men were ready to kill Hamil and me to keep us from telling you what we saw.”

  The harmach frowned and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “That is a black tale you bring to us, Geran. I know that Darsi Veruna is no friend to me, but treachery and murder such as this…”

  Sergen began to chuckle, then laughed deeply and richly. “Surely you don’t believe all this, Uncle? It’s a wild exaggeration at best, and more likely an outright fabrication!” He pushed himself upright from the bookshelf he had been leaning against and looked at Geran. “Aesperus himself took the book from your hands, and you were rescued by a mysterious devilspawned sorcerer who then flew off into the night? Ah, goodness! I had no idea you were capable of such ridiculous invention, Geran! Why, The Bride of Secomber couldn’t best that tale! Are you sure you’re not a playwright?”

  Geran stood up straight and glared at Sergen. “Every word I’ve spoken here today is true. Don’t call me a liar again.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Sergen asked. His easy smile fell from his face, and his dark eyes glittered like serpent scales. “You haven’t seen a reason to spend ten days in this house in the last ten years-the house of your father and your father’s father. You’re a feckless wanderer, Geran, chasing after childish dreams of glory and fame. I don’t doubt that a man such as you might invent any sort of fantastic tale to justify a few more hours of adoration from those too foolish to look past your wild claims and ask for some small shred of proof.”

  “Enough, both of you,” Harmach Grigor said. “We have-”

  “Now that’s odd,” Geran retorted to Sergen. “You haven’t seen fit to spend a single day in your father’s house in all that time. Where is he now, I wonder? Selling children into slavery? Robbing and murdering his way through the world as a common highwayman? Or perhaps groveling in front of some demon’s bloody altar? As I see things, Sergen, you’ve claimed my family’s name and sold off my family’s property for your own riches. Maybe we should’ve run you off all those years ago when that traitorous, blackhearted father of yours fled for his miserable life!”

  “That is enough!” the harmach snapped.

  “You’ll regret those words,” Sergen hissed. He took a step toward Geran, his hand dropping to the hilt of his rapier.

  For his own part, Geran rounded the table and took three strides toward his stepcousin. He’d be damned if he would let Sergen call him a liar. “What are you hiding?” he growled. “Why are you trying to protect House Veruna? Did they buy your loyalty, such as it is? Perhaps you hope to succeed where your father failed?”

  “Geran, I will have no more of this!” Grigor roared. He stood and struck his cane against the floor. “Sergen may not be of Hulmaster blood, but my sister raised him as her own son, and I will not hear another word about his father’s deeds!”

  Geran hesitated. In all of his life he had never heard the harmach raise his voice so. Sergen fell silent too, but still glared at Geran. Kara stepped between the two and then looked to the harmach. “Uncle Grigor, we all know that Sergen is… close… to Darsi Veruna. Geran’s charges against the Verunas are serious and must be answered, but Sergen’s not likely to demand explanations from House Veruna.”

  Sergen turned a black look on his stepsister but mastered hims
elf with a visible effort. “I don’t deny that I am courting Lady Darsi. Nor do I deny that we’ve had a profitable association-all of us. House Veruna accounts for almost half of the concession fees collected on Hulmaster land. But that doesn’t make Geran’s wild accusations true, Uncle. I have in fact already heard a different account of what transpired on the Highfells. I didn’t want to mention it for fear of shaming a kinsman I haven’t seen in a long time, but it seems clear that I must speak of it now.” Sergen frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know how to say this, but… Captain Urdinger reported to Lady Darsi that he and his men were performing a routine patrol when they stumbled across a pair of bandits looting a tomb in search of nothing more exotic than barrow-gold. When they challenged the looters, they discovered Geran and his small accomplice there, who attacked them rather than allowing themselves to be taken into custody. They murdered several Veruna armsmen and fled into the mists.” He looked at Geran and added, “So where have you hidden the gold you’ve looted? How many more barrows do you intend to pillage before you flee Hulburg and go off to plunder some other land?”

  “You lying serpent…” Geran snarled in fury.

  Easy, Geran, Hamil told him. The halfling set his hands on his hips and looked up at Sergen. “So, Lord Sergen, are Geran and I responsible for the barrows that were plundered before we even arrived in town? If we didn’t do it, then who did?”

  Kara narrowed her azure eyes and folded her arms over her breastplate. “For that matter, Sergen, why didn’t you report this dire tale as soon as you heard it?”

  “Frankly, I thought Geran had already fled Hulburg again,” Sergen answered. “He hasn’t been seen here in days, after all, and I hoped to spare the family any story of his misdeeds. You all seem to think well of him, after all.” He glanced down at Hamil and shrugged. “As far as who opened barrows before you arrived, well, we have only your word that you returned to Hulburg when you claim you did. How do we know you haven’t been here for months, searching out barrows to loot? For that matter, how do we know that you weren’t the very tomb robbers Jarad Erstenwold died trying to arrest?”

  “Now that’s ridiculous!” Kara snapped. “Perhaps you’d like to suggest that Geran is responsible for the Spellplague and the Time of Troubles too, while you’re at it?”

  The harmach sighed. “Sergen, I don’t find your accusations against Geran very credible. Your anger is speaking for you.”

  “They are not my accusations, Uncle. I’m only reporting what’s been told to me. Regardless of what you find credible, there are a dozen Veruna blades who can swear to their account of what happened on the Highfells two nights ago.” Sergen drew himself up and measured Geran sternly. “Geran may have inveigled you with his self-aggrandizing tales, but I think the Merchant Council will be less easily swayed by old affection.”

  “I will lay Geran’s charges against House Veruna before the Merchant Council, Sergen,” the harmach warned. “And I expect them to be investigated thoroughly and impartially. If you are not capable of doing that, I’ll appoint a new keeper of duties to oversee the Council Watch and see to it.”

  “So you take Geran at his word?” Sergen pointed at Geran and snarled, “While he’s been off playing at adventure in foreign lands, I’ve stayed here and built Hulburg from a forgettable little backwater into a prosperous town! What’s he ever done for this city or this family? This drafty old castle would be crumbling around your ears if not for the coin I brought in. I refuse to let his wild stories antagonize a trading partner as valuable as Mulmaster!” He glared defiantly around the room and then abruptly shouldered his way past Geran and stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

  Geran drew a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair; the harmach sat down slowly and leaned his cane against his chair. No one else said anything for a long moment, and then Hamil cleared his throat and said, “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of place, but why charge Urdinger and the Veruna men through the Merchant Council? Why not send the Shieldsworn to arrest them?”

  “My hands are bound by the laws of concession, Master Hamil,” the harmach answered. “Matters of justice pertaining to the merchant costers are dealt with by the Merchant Council. My Shieldsworn aren’t permitted to set foot in the conceded territory, nor are they allowed to arrest foreigners employed by a merchant company holding a concession. We must lay our charges before the Merchant Council and allow the council to arrest, try, and sentence their own.”

  “And do you trust Sergen to charge and try House Veruna’s armsmen?” Geran asked.

  Grigor glanced out the leaded window at the warm rain pattering down over the town. “Sergen has shown that his loyalty lies with our family on many occasions, Geran,” he said quietly. “I’ve always believed that trusting someone can make that person worthy of trust, and Sergen long ago made up for the harm his father intended against us. But it might be true that he’s become too entangled with the merchants he deals with.”

  “He’s protecting Jarad’s murderer, Uncle Grigor.”

  “Which he may not have known he was doing until you reported what you’d found in the Highfells,” the harmach pointed out. He shifted his gaze back to Geran and met his eyes. “I’ll give him a few days to show me that he can set aside his dislike for you and act on the information you’ve brought to light, and if he doesn’t, then yes, I will replace him. Now-tell me everything about Aesperus and this book. I want to know what the King in Copper has to do with this whole affair.”

  SEVENTEEN

  27 Ches, the Year of the Ageless One

  Later in the afternoon, Geran decided it was time to visit Mirya Erstenwold again. She’d insisted that there was nothing that he had to do about Jarad’s murder on her account, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some answers. After all, when they’d met at Jarad’s graveside, she’d seemed to understand that he needed to settle Jarad’s business for the peace of his own heart, if not hers. By sharing her suspicions about House Veruna, she’d given him her blessing to follow his own path through grief. Geran was slowly resigning himself to the idea that he might not ever find out which of the Veruna armsmen had actually waylaid his friend in that wild and lonely place, but he could certainly tell Mirya what the Veruna men had been seeking and how Jarad had come to get in their way. Besides, Mirya needed to know what he’d learned about Veruna’s involvement. The men who’d murdered her brother might be the same men who now threatened her family’s livelihood with their extortion and intimidation.

  Wrapped deeply in his thoughts, Geran slipped out of the castle an hour before sunset, leaving Hamil to entertain Natali and Kirr. He set out from Griffonwatch on foot, dressed in a nondescript gray cloak, only one more man among the hundreds in the streets who hurried about on their own business. The rain had diminished to a cool, steady mist that beaded his cloak without really soaking the dense wool, and faint tatters of cloudwrack drifted over the town only a few hundred feet overhead. He took Cinder Street through the Tailings-by daylight the neighborhood was simply run down and poor, not dangerous-crossed the Winterspear at the Middle Bridge, and climbed the steps up to the square by the Assaying House and High Street.

  As he threaded his way through the sodden streets, Geran brooded over the question of how to hold House Veruna to account even if the harmach couldn’t. When he considered events coldly and carefully, he decided that it didn’t matter all that much which of the armsmen had been involved. The Veruna men were mercenaries, paid to do what they did without asking questions, and the ultimate responsibility for Jarad Erstenwold’s murder rested with the man or woman who had ordered the mercenaries to kill him. It seemed likely that Anfel Urdinger might be that man-after all, Mirya had seen him wearing Jarad’s elf-made dagger. And the encounter at the barrow of Terlannis suggested that Urdinger was the sort of captain who was inclined to personally see to important missions. The only real question in Geran’s mind was whether Urdinger had conceived the plans to loot the barrows, deal with Aes
perus, and assassinate Jarad Erstenwold himself, or simply followed the orders of Lady Darsi or some other high-ranking member of House Veruna.

  Geran reached the intersection with Plank Street and turned the corner to Erstenwold’s. The first sign of trouble was the two mercenaries in tabards of green and white standing outside the door of Mirya’s store with insolent smirks. Passersby gave them a wide berth, staying well clear of the doorway. The next sign was the sound of breaking glass and coarse laughter from inside.

  Geran’s step faltered. “Ah, damn it all,” he muttered. “Geran, you fool!” The Veruna men were back, vandalizing the place to teach Mirya a lesson for letting him stand up for her. But whether it was a message for him or a message for her, he wasn’t going to stand by and let Darsi Veruna’s mercenaries hurt Mirya or drive her out of business. I think I’ve had about enough of Darsi Veruna’s hired blades, he decided. He paused in the shadow of a doorway and quickly spoke a couple of his swordmage spells. Then he crossed the street, heading for the steps where the mercenaries waited.

  “Find another store, friend,” one of the men said coldly. “This one’s closed.”

  “That’s not for you to say,” Geran replied, and he whipped his cloak free of his shoulders, dropping it into the muddy street without breaking stride. His right hand rode on his sword hilt. “Now get out of my sight, because Torm knows I’ve had all I can stand of your stink in my town.”

  “Damn it, Terth! That’s him!” the second man said to the first. “That’s Geran Hulmaster!”

  “I don’t care if he’s the king of Cormyr,” the first armsman said. He set his hand on the hilt of his own sword and grinned in challenge at Geran. “I don’t mean to step aside for him.”