But tonight was not for saving the world. Tonight was about conquest. But who would be the chosen one?
“On the prowl again, Martok?”
He turned his attention to the young man approaching from behind. Gracio Fierdin was the closest thing he had to a best friend. His family was not exactly wealthy or powerful, but it was well liked among the majority of mage houses. Gracio was the youngest of six children and the only son. Martok had met him during a meeting of the houses three years prior. He found him to be honest and direct – a rare quality that he valued highly.
He grinned back at Gracio. “With all these exquisite beauties under my roof, how could I not be? And you should be too.”
His friend chuckled. “I’m afraid I lack your charm. Besides, you know good and well that I’m engaged.”
“Ah, yes. And how is the lovely Lady Prustoni? I hear she is very pleased about landing you as a husband.”
“She is quite well, thank you. And in spite of what people think, we are in love.”
Martok gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Of course you are. Don’t let what those vipers say bother you. Just because her mother inherited Kytain’s fortune, that doesn’t mean a thing. Your family -”
“My family is too poor,” he said, cutting Martok short. “That’s what they say. They also whisper that if it wasn't for my friendship with the most powerful man in Lumnia, she would have never given me a second look.”
The hurt on his face was plain to see. “I hope you realize that I don’t think that,” Martok said, his tone sincere.
Gracio smiled. “Yes. I know it very well. But I hate when Helen hears these things. She pretends not to care. But I know it bothers her.”
Martok locked eyes with his friend. “You listen to me. Helen Prustoni is the best person to come out of that family since Kytain himself. And she loves you.” He grinned playfully and flicked his wrist, instantly lightening the mood. “Exactly why she loves you, is a complete mystery of course. But she does, nonetheless. So you are just going to have to ignore them. Understand?”
Before Gracio could respond, Martok turned back to the dance floor. The music had changed to a slow melody. One that was meant for a more intimate style of dance.
“You should think of settling down and finding a wife yourself,” Gracio suggested. Though speaking in a lighthearted tone, he was clearly being serious.
“I will…one day. I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“Well, I hope you do soon. You’re getting quite a reputation, you know.”
Martok shrugged. “What do I care? Most of these toads aren’t worthy to wed a pig farmer. The only value they have rests between their thighs.”
“Then perhaps you should wed a pig farmer’s daughter.”
This drew a laugh. “I might just do that. She’d be better than this lot, I wager.”
“They’re not all so bad. Helen is certainly different.”
“Yes. But the good ones are already taken.”
Gracio slapped him on the back. “I think you're wrong. And I hope I’m there to see it when you find her. I imagine the look on your face will be priceless.”
Instead of replying immediately, Martok grabbed his friend's arm and pointed to a woman standing on the far side of the ballroom. With grey hair neatly tucked beneath a silk scarf, she was dressed in an elegant violet gown stitched with silver and studded with diamonds. Though quite old, she still retained the vibrant look of youth. “Do you know her?” he asked.
“You mean Lady Thamus? Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”
“You should go speak to her.”
“Why?”
“Just tell her that Martok sent you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Gracio cocked his head, frowning. “I’m not going over there unless you tell me why.”
Martok led him to a quieter corner of the room. “How many women do you think I’ve bedded?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that? How should I know?”
“Just guess.”
“A hundred. Maybe more. You are quite the hound, after all.”
Martok erupted into boisterous laughter. “Yes. I am indeed. But you are wrong about the number. Very wrong.”
“More?”
“Less,” he replied. “In truth, I have only been intimate with seven women.”
Gracio eyed him incredulously. “That’s not possible.”
“Of course it is. And Lady Thamus is the reason why.”
“You were with Lady Thamus?” His tone was a mixture of surprise and disgust. “But she’s…”
“Old. Yes, I am well aware of her age. But that doesn’t matter. Not when you know what she knows.” He could see the continued look of disbelief on his friend’s face. “Just go and speak with her. You don’t need to leave the ballroom. Just talk to her and you’ll understand.”
“I’m not sleeping with that woman, Martok,” he stated emphatically. “Even if she wasn’t old enough to be my grandmother…I’m engaged.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, my friend. And if you return and tell me you weren’t happy you went, I’ll pay for your entire wedding out of my own coffers.”
Gracio blew an exasperated breath. “This is a complete waste of time. But fine. I’m sure Helen’s mother will be most pleased to have saved the gold.”
Martok watched closely as he crossed timidly over to where Lady Thamus was talking to a small group near the refreshments table. After a brief few words with him, she looked over and smiled at Martok, covering her mouth demurely as she laughed. She pointed to Gracio questioningly. Martok nodded in return.
Still laughing quietly to herself, Lady Thamus placed her hand over Gracio’s brow. He stiffened instantly, remaining this way for well more than a minute before finally relaxing and taking an awkward step back. Lady Thamus stepped in close to whisper something into his ear, then walked gracefully away.
When Gracio returned he was speechless. Finding a nearby chair, he plopped heavily down, shaking his head in utter disbelief.
“Aren’t you glad you listened to your old friend?” Martok asked.
After another few moments of stunned silence, Gracio regained his power of speech. “That was the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. How…it’s just…I can’t…”
“She was quite lovely. Am I right?”
“Breathtaking,” he agreed. “But how is it done?”
“Magic is a never ending mystery, and the mind is its equal. I was only twenty the first time she took me there. After she taught me the spell, I tried it for myself. By the way, was it the beach or the cabin in the mountains?”
“Neither. I found myself standing in a field of wild flowers. She was young again. By the spirits…the things she did to me…”
“I can teach you the spell if you like,” Martok offered.
After a brief thought, Gracio shook his head. “No. It’s not right. I just couldn’t…”
“Why? You did nothing wrong. It was all in your mind. Your body never left the room.”
“I don’t care. It still feels wrong.” He stood and straightened his back. “I’m sorry, Martok. I want no part of this.”
He wrapped an arm around Gracio’s shoulders. “Calm down. I wouldn't force it on you. And I’m sorry if you're upset. That wasn’t what I intended.”
His friend nodded. “I know. I'm sorry, but you need to understand how much I love Helen. Even if it’s just in my mind, I still feel as if I've betrayed her trust.”
“No need to apologize,” Martok told him. “I'm the one at fault. Come. Let us drink together and forget the whole ordeal.”
As they crossed the room together, he noticed a look of shame persisting on Gracio's face. “Now don’t be thinking you need to confess this to Helen,” he said. “What’s done is done. You'll only hurt her. If you feel any guilt, live with it. There's no point in causing her pain just to relieve your own conscience.”
Gracio sigh
ed. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”
Martok was not about to mention that he and Helen had done this very same thing together many times. Given Gracio’s attitude toward the experience, it was better he never found out. Up until this minute, Martok had never thought of it as being any kind of betrayal. Now he could see that perhaps it was.
Gracio excused himself early after only one drink and retired to his room. Like most of Martok's guests, he was staying at the house overnight. In fact, many of them had traveled great distances to be there for this grand occasion. As for Martok however, he had still not yet identified a suitable companion for the evening. And as he was in his own home, he was determined that the number of women he had bedded would definitely increase by one before the morning arrived. But who?
It was well past midnight when he spotted a young woman in a striking red gown. Her honey blond hair and ivory complexion practically begged to be admired. Though slender, her womanly attributes were ample. Martok was immediately captivated.
Creeping up behind her, he whispered into her ear: “You look amazing. How ever did you arrive without my noticing?”
She stepped away from him with a brisk movement before turning. The annoyed expression on her face told him that this one would be quite a challenge.
“I have only just arrived, My Lord. And I would thank you not to sneak up behind me in that manner again.”
He bowed low. “Forgive me, My Lady. I meant no offence. I am -”
“I know full well who you are, Martok Dragonvein. How could I not?”
He flashed his best smile. “And yet I do not know you. Which, given how lovely you are, seems impossible. I thought I knew every beautiful mage in Lumnia. Now I see I was clearly mistaken. And happily so.”
She laughed mockingly. “I’m sure your charms would have any other woman here swooning. But I am not a prize to be won. Seek your sport elsewhere, Lord Dragonvein.”
She turned and started to walk away.
“May I at least know your name?” he called after her.
“I haven’t yet decided,” she replied over her shoulder. “Perhaps. If you mind your manners and stop behaving like a fiend.”
The few people close enough to overhear the exchange were wide eyed with shock. No one spoke to Martok this way. Even the few women who resisted his advances did so in a kind and gentle manner. This one, however, was behaving outrageously.
Not that Martok was offended. While watching her vanish into the crowd on the far side of the room, he suddenly realized that he was grinning from ear to ear. Now he was more determined than ever to know her name. As unlikely as it seemed, he was sure he had never seen this woman before. He had visited every mage house in Lumnia at one time or another, and was confident he would have remembered any meeting with her.
As the night wore on, he found that he had no interest at all in his usual sport. His eyes had a mind of their own, automatically wandering to wherever the fetching young woman happened to be at the time. He had thought to ask some of the guests who she was, but eventually decided he would hear it from her own lips or not at all.
Twice more he tried to strike up a conversation, and both times she spurned him. With the crowd now thinning, Martok grew ever more determined. Just as the final few guests were heading off to their rooms, he caught her gathering her coat near the ballroom exit.
“You are not staying for the night?” he asked.
“Here? Never. My carriage is waiting outside.”
“But the nearest inn is more than twenty miles away, My Lady. Please allow me to provide you with accommodation.”
She let out a weary sigh. “Don't you ever give up, Lord Dragonvein?”
“Not when I have set my heart on something,” he replied, grinning boyishly.
“And do you actually have a heart? I thought women to you were mere trifles: playthings that can easily be cast aside.”
Martok had heard this before. Until now it had never bothered him in the slightest. “I give you my word that my intentions are entirely honorable,” he assured her. “I wish only to know who you are. Please, My Lady. Tell me your name and I will trouble you no more.”
Her laughter was both mocking and musical. “Is your memory really so bad? You already know my name. You’ve known it for years.”
Creasing his brow, he regarded her more closely. Yes...now that she had told him this, there was something vaguely familiar about her face. Placing it however, was still proving impossible. A list of possible meeting places ran through his mind and produced nothing.
She watched with undisguised amusement for almost a full minute before raising her hand. “Very well. I hate to see you so confused. My name is Goldsong. Miriam Goldsong.”
It took only a moment for him to put it together. Miriam...the little girl he had saved in Kytain’s garden on the day he learned he would not be returning home. The sound of her laughter made him realize that he was staring at her with slack-jawed astonishment.
“I…I didn’t recognize you. Forgive me.”
“To be fair, it has been many years, My Lord. And much has happened since we were children. But I think it is I who should be asking your pardon. I had hoped that you would figure out who I was before now. And when you didn’t, I thought I would have a little bit of fun with you.” She gave him a slight bow. “So I hope it is you who can forgive me.”
Martok snapped back into the moment. “Of course. Of course. How could I not? I have often wondered what became of you. And now...here you are.” He spread his arms and gazed at her with undisguised appreciation. “May I say how wonderfully you have grown.”
Miriam clicked her tongue. “Now, now. I was perfectly serious when I said I had no intention of succumbing to your charms. You may not have known what became of me. But I certainly have heard much about you…and of your exploits.”
For the first time in Martok's life, he realized that a woman was making him blush. “I assure you the stories are wildly exaggerated,” he said.
“Perhaps. And if so, you should do something to dispel such awful rumors.” She glanced around the virtually empty ballroom. “But now I must be going. I am genuinely sorry for being so brusque with you tonight. When we see each other again, I promise to be more agreeable.”
“There is no need to leave,” he said quickly, knowing that he sounded way too eager. “I have plenty of rooms available. I beg you. Stay. I swear to be on my best behavior.”
Miriam tilted her head and smiled. “I’m sure you would. But my fiancé would not be happy knowing I stayed the night in Dragonvein Manor. Exaggerated or not, you do have a reputation.”
The word fiancé struck him like a dagger to the heart. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She placed a hand on his cheek. “No. It is I who am sorry. I can see in your eyes how lonely you are. And I wish I could do something to ease that burden. But I must tend to the heart of the one I am to marry. And should I stay here, he would undoubtedly worry.”
Martok paused as he felt a lump forming in his throat. “And who is the luckiest mage in all Lumnia, might I ask?”
“Oh, he is no mage. I am to wed Prince Traxis of Soria.”
This news was utterly stunning. His incredulous words rushed out even before he was aware he'd spoken them. “And your mother and father are allowing this?”
Miriam frowned. “He is a good man, and I love him. I do not care who approves. I’ll also have you know that my mother thinks it to be a good match. She is not narrow minded like you and the rest of the so called great houses.”
Martok lowered his eyes. “Yet again, I owe you an apology. I did not mean to imply…”
He paused. Yes, he did. He disapproved. Strongly. He could not help it. A woman such as this was too good for anyone but the greatest of mages. “I wish you all the happiness there is,” he finished off lamely.
Miriam sniffed, sensing the disingenuous tone in his remark. “Good night, My Lord Dragonvein.” After giving him a rapid but p
olite curtsy, she strode away.
Even when moving with angry rushed steps, Martok found her graceful. How could she marry someone other than a mage? It was…disgusting. But unless he were to murder the lucky bastard, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
He took a long look around the ballroom. The servants were already cleaning and the guests had all now retired to their rooms. She was right. He was lonely.
It just wasn't until this very moment that he'd realized it.
Chapter Eleven
Martok smiled down at the dwarf emissary standing before him. Sitting on his throne-like chair atop a circular dais was intended to present him as an imposing figure. The dwarf, however, appeared far from overawed. With a well-groomed beard and every finger adorned with gold rings and jewels, his wealth and status was apparent.
Not that any of these adornments impressed Martok. His vaults were already bursting at the seams with enough gold and precious stones to last many lifetimes.
“Master Kolar,” he began. “I understand your position, so I will now make mine clear. The bounty you place on the elves will end. Also, you will cease hostilities against them at once. There is nothing more to say on the matter.”
“But they are savages, My Lord,” the dwarf protested through gritted teeth. “They plague us at every turn. They attack our trading caravans, kill our people, and steal our livestock. We have tried to reason with them –”
“No, you have made threats,” Martok snapped back with enough force to silence the man. “And it is your people who have been the aggressors. You cannot march forth and demand that they vacate land they have occupied for generations and then call that reasoning.”
He paused to lean back in his chair. “Since you are incapable of coming to an agreement with the elves, I will do it for you. The hostilities will cease…today. Should you try to test my resolve, the outcome will not be to your liking.”
“You have no right to dictate to us –”
Martok’s hand shot up to silence him. At the same time, his eyes glowed bright red with magical energy. “Would you care for me to demonstrate what right I have, Master Kolar?” He allowed the threat to hang in the air.
Dragonvein Book Four Page 16
