Though the dwarf did not actually cower, he was clearly unnerved. “No…My Lord. I will contact my people at once and relay your message.” After giving a formal bow, he spun on his heels and hurried from the receiving hall.
Martok rubbed the bridge of his nose while watching him go. Unable to resist giving vent to his feelings, he snorted loudly. “Damn fools! They would rather have everlasting war than a life of peace and plenty for all.”
“I’m afraid you overestimated the people of Lumnia, My Lord.”
Martok looked up to see Gracio shaking his head and smiling. “I’m beginning to think you’re right,” he responded. “And please stop calling me My Lord. That is, unless you’re doing it to irritate me.”
“I would never do such a thing…My Lord.”
Martok glowered. Gradually though, a smile grew and turned to soft laughter. “I have missed your company, my friend. You must promise not to stay away for so long next time. And I think your wife would like that as well.”
Gracio nodded. “I don’t enjoy being away. But Helen’s mother has not been well. She needs help keeping things in order.” He shifted his feet. “Which brings me to a point…”
“If you are about to say that you and Helen are moving back to the Prustoni Estate, I don’t want to hear it.”
“What choice do I have? Helen will receive her inheritance next year, and I have no intention of us being separated.”
“But I need you here. I couldn’t manage without the two of you by my side.”
Gracio chuckled. “I think you are exaggerating a touch. We keep you company and help take your mind off your troubles. That's all. A wife would be able to do much the same thing. And far better than us.”
Martok let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes. “Not that again. Don’t you think I want to find someone? I’ve tried, but look at my choices. There's not a single unmarried woman within the mage houses who's worth a pig’s hair. All the good ones are already taken. So what should I do? Should I force them to divorce just so I can allay my loneliness? I could, you know. Most of their idiot husbands could be bought easily enough.”
Gracio clicked his tongue. “Poor Martok. All the wealth and power in the world, and still so unhappy. I’m sorry, my friend. There is only one Miriam, and she is already married. You must choose another.”
“Yes. Married to a man who is unable to give her what she truly deserves. It’s repellent. And I hear that their son lacks even a trace of magical talent.”
“She seems happy to me.”
“Bah! She has yet to experience happiness. Living in such mundane surroundings, how could she?”
Before Gracio could make any kind of response, a messenger arrived and handed Martok a letter. Still fuming over the thought of Miriam with a non-magical family, he ran his eyes over the page. A strange expression then appeared on his face.
“What is it?” Gracio asked.
“She is coming here,” he replied.
“Who?”
“Miriam. She requests an audience. She says she will arrive tomorrow and it is of the utmost importance that she speaks with me.”
Martok's heart was racing. She was coming to see him. Could she have finally come to her senses? He tried not to show his excitement, but it was impossible to conceal.
He jumped to his feet. “Cancel everything I have scheduled for today. And tell the cooks to prepare a feast.” He paused. “No. Tell them to prepare a dinner for two to be served in the south garden. And hire musicians. The best you can find on short notice.”
Gracio raised a finger to protest, but Martok was already halfway across the room.
He spent the rest of the day planning out every last detail of the dinner. Gracio came by several times, doing his best to warn him not to get his hopes up and pointing out that Miriam's husband might well be accompanying her. But the letter had said nothing about that. Only that she needed to speak with him.
That night Martok warned himself that he should not be too forward or demanding. But what if her marriage was foundering? Should he not also be prepared to show her that he was the better choice? Until he knew the full reason for her visit, it was difficult to know how to plan.
It was well past midnight before he could still his mind sufficiently to fall asleep. Even then, he was wide awake more than an hour before dawn.
When she finally arrived he was completely on edge. So much so that he had her wait outside the receiving hall until he could compose himself sufficiently. After taking a seat he nodded to Gracio, who was shaking his head in disapproval.
Miriam seemed to glide rather than merely walk into the room. She was wearing a glimmering blue dress, while upon her brow rested a delicate diamond tiara. The mere sight of her had him gripping the arm of his chair. He smiled warmly in greeting, though this faded quickly as she drew near and he was able to see deep sorrow and pain etched into her face. At once, he sprang to his feet.
“What is wrong, My Lady?”
Miriam bowed her head. “I have come to beg a favor of you, My Lord Dragonvein.”
“Please. There is no need to be so formal with me.” He looked around the room, now regretting receiving her in such an opulent chamber designed purely to demonstrate his personal power and wealth. He offered his hand. “Come. Let us go somewhere more comfortable. Then you can ask of me anything you desire.”
“Thank you.” A tear spilled down her cheek as she took his hand and allowed herself to led from the room.
It had been eight years since he'd last laid eyes on her, and still her beauty was spellbinding. He ushered her into a small parlor not far from the receiving hall and poured them both a glass of wine.
“Now tell me your troubles,” he said as they sat down by a window overlooking a small courtyard.
“My husband,” she began. “He was hunting in the forest south of our home when he was set upon by a group of elves.”
“Was he hurt?”
She took a deep breath. “He was killed. His entire party was massacred.”
Martok placed a hand gently on her shoulder, trying desperately not to show any trace of his initial, not altogether unhappy reaction to this news. “I am so very sorry. What can I do?”
She looked up at him, the sorrow in her eyes suddenly replaced by fury. “You can kill them. Kill them all for me, Martok. Grant me this wish and I will do anything you want. I will give you anything I possess. Just kill them.”
He was stunned by her intensity. “Are you sure it was elves who were responsible?”
“There is no doubt. So will you do this thing for me?”
Martok sat back. This was beyond anything he could have expected. Were he to do what she was asking, it would undermine everything he had been working so hard to achieve. “Why do you need me in particular to do this?” he asked.
“Because all the other mages fear what you might do should they be the ones to attack the elves. They know you have aligned yourself with them. Only you can give me justice.”
He steepled his hands beneath his chin. Of all the favors Miriam could have asked for, why did it have to be this? “You say there is no doubt that the elves were your husband's killers,” he remarked. “Tell me how you know this with such certainty?”
“There was a witness,” she came back quickly. “Just one of the hunting party managed to escape. He stated clearly how the elves came from nowhere and hacked them to pieces without any warning at all.” She slid from the chair and knelt before him. “Please. You are the only one I can turn to. Name your price and I will pay it.”
Martok leaned down and lifted her to her feet. “I will help you. But you must allow me time to investigate this first.”
Miriam jerked away. “Why? I've already told you what happened. There is no doubt.”
“And I’m sure you are right. But I have worked for a very long time to better relations between elf and human. I need to know why they did this terrible thing before I throw all that away. However, you have my word that
there will be justice. In the meantime, you will remain here in the manor.”
He half expected her to indignantly reject this directive, but she simply nodded.
After summoning a servant to show her to her room, he headed to his study. Gracio joined him soon after and listened closely to the account Miriam had conveyed.
A look of deep concern formed on his friend's face. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Elves wouldn’t attack anyone without good cause. Especially now that they have you helping them to negotiate peace among the races. It doesn’t make sense.”
“That is why I’m sending you to find out what really happened.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because I know what you’ll find. Or at least I think I do.”
Martok crossed to his desk, scrawled a quick note, and sealed it. “First of all, go to Golan. It’s a town just north of the palace where Miriam lives. You’ll find a fur shop there run by a man named Chaudri. Give this note to him and then follow his instructions.”
“This man. Who is he?”
“He's Urazi.”
Gracio caught his breath. “For pity's sake, why are you involving them? Are you planning to have someone killed?”
“Not necessarily, but the Urazi make it their business to know all the little secrets people think they keep safe. If there is a truth to be exposed, they will know where to find it.”
Though clearly uneasy, the look on Martok's face prevented Gracio from voicing his trepidations. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” he said.
“No. Leave today. As soon as you can make ready.”
“As you wish. Though I assume there is time enough for me to say goodbye to Helen before departing.”
Martok forced a smile. “Of course. Forgive me if I am being abrupt, but there is far more at stake here than you realize.”
Once his friend had hurried away, Martok settled in the chair beside the hearth and remained there for more than an hour in deep contemplation. He knew that most mages were resistant to the idea of a relationship with the elves. Even so, someone had now gone too far. Prince Traxis would never have done anything to provoke such an attack on his party. And even if he had, the elves would certainly have come to him first with their grievance before resorting to such violence.
As much as it complicated matters, that only left one possibility. This plot was far more destructive than it appeared on the surface. He would need to move very carefully indeed.
* * * * *
Miriam stayed in the manor for the next three months. Martok made frequent attempts to rouse her from her melancholy, though with only limited success. He carefully refrained from making any sort of romantic overtures, knowing that this would not be well received. The wound from losing her husband was still too fresh. Moreover, she was missing her son greatly. His offer to send for the boy was politely refused. She told him that it was best that he remains at home and in familiar surroundings. He was only four and didn’t fully understand what had happened.
Shortly into her stay, Martok had told her he'd considered matters and had dispatched people to deal with the elves responsible for murdering her husband. This seemed to satisfy her for a time. However, by the third month she was growing increasingly impatient for definite word of the justice she had come seeking.
When Gracio did eventually return, he looked absolutely exhausted. Aware of his arrival, Miriam begged to hear the news he carried. Martok resisted at first, but in the end he relented. After allowing Gracio a short time to get cleaned up and reunite with his wife, he called him to his study. He poured his friend a glass of brandy and offered him a seat. Both he and Miriam sat down directly across in anticipation.
Gracio’s eyes darted from Martok to Miriam and then back again. “I think you might want us to speak alone first,” he suggested.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Miriam insisted sharply.
“It’s all right,” Martok assured him. “Just tell us what happened.”
Gracio drained his glass and sat it on the table before beginning. “As you instructed, I contacted the man in Golan and delivered the message. After that he directed me to the inn where I was to wait until he sent word. It was six weeks before I heard from him again. And what he told me…well, you won’t like it. Either of you.”
Miriam turned to Martok accusingly. “You said you had send people to mete out justice. Not conduct an investigation.”
“I had to know the truth. And the story you told me made no sense.”
This was enough to have her springing up from her chair. “You dare accuse me of lying?”
“No, of course not. I only thought that perhaps you had been misled. I never for one instant believed you were deceiving me purposefully.”
His words did nothing to cool Miriam’s anger. Her face was twisted into a hate-filled grimace. “You bastard. You think I am some dullard? That I am so easily manipulated? You can go to the depths. Both of you.”
Martok stood to face her, holding out his palms. “Please. That was not what I meant. I merely wished to establish the truth. You were so grief stricken, I thought that whoever was really behind this could have used your distress to mislead you.”
“My Lady,” Gracio jumped in. “It is true. You have been misled, exactly as Martok has suggested. I carry the proof with me.”
“What proof?”
“If you will please just calm yourself, I will get to that in a minute.”
After a long, tense moment, her curiosity won over. Miriam sat back down.
“Your husband was not killed by elves,” Gracio continued.
“But there was a witness,” she instantly countered. “He saw what they did.”
“The witness was lying. He was paid to blame the elves for the attack on your husband's party.”
“That is not possible,” she said, shaking her head several times in stubborn denial. “I’ve known Bremin since I was a little girl. He would not lie to me.”
“Bremin is a mage from your mother’s house, am I right?”
“Yes. She sent him to me last year. He’s been a great help. I trust him with my life.”
“I am loathe to tell you this,” Gracio said, “but he was not sent to aid you. His mission was to bring you home.” He retrieved a letter from his pocket. “This is in your mother’s hand.”
Miriam reached over and snatched it from him. After reading what was written, she sniffed contemptuously and tossed it back. “This is obviously forged. It proves nothing.”
“What does it say?” asked Martok.
His friend sighed. “It says that once Prince Traxis is dead, Bremin should convince Miriam to return home. It also says that he should convince her to leave her son behind.”
She shook her head. “This is too ridiculous for words. You seriously expect me to believe that my mother would go to the extreme of arranging my husband's death just to have me home again.”
“No, not entirely.” Gracio conceded. “However, your return from Soria was an essential part of a much grander scheme.” He produced another letter. “This explains the plot in further detail.” Wary of last time, he quickly handed it to Martok before Miriam could grab a hold.
Martok examined the document for several minutes, reading then rereading it before handing it over to Miriam.
“And you are sure of this?” he asked Gracio.
He nodded. “Absolutely. Verial Goldsong, along with several other of the mage houses, conspired with the dwarves to trick you into turning on the elves. She knew how much her daughter loved Traxis, and that his death would be sure to spur her into seeking revenge. It was then just a small matter of having Bremin suggest to Miriam that she should come to you for help. Given your feelings for her daughter, Lady Goldsong was quite sure you would do as she asked.”
Miriam threw the letter to the floor, fury burning in her eyes. “It’s a forgery, I tell you. Someone is trying to implicate my mother. I will not stand for this.”
Gracio picked
it up, offering it once again to Miriam. “She used a Lumin Seal.”
Miriam stared down at the paper for a full minute. “You’re wrong. She wouldn’t do this.”
“See for yourself,” he challenged. “Not even Martok could forge such a seal.”
With trembling hands, she waved them over the letter. For a moment nothing happened. Then, around the edges of the parchment, a dim blue light gradually appeared. A few seconds later a name formed in the center – Verial Goldsong. Miriam stared at it in horror.
“I’m sorry,” said Martok. He reached out to touch her hand, but she jerked sharply away. He turned back to Gracio. “Do you know the identities of her accomplices?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But the plot goes deeper still. They even attempted to hire the Urazi to assassinate you once you had played your part in attacking the elves. Strangely, given their normal code of business, the Urazi refused. The member I spoke to about this would not tell me why, though he did confirm that every part of the conspiracy was done in collusion with the dwarves.”
By now Miriam was weeping openly. “I don’t understand any of this. Why? Why would she kill my husband - the father of her grandson? What did he do to deserve such a fate?”
Martok was torn. He knew what must be done, yet was reluctant to cause Miriam further pain. “You should go lay down,” he told her. “There's nothing more to be done about this for now. We’ll talk about it again tomorrow.”
“No!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. “I know what you are planning to do, Martok. And I won’t let you. No matter what she has done, she is still my mother.”
He rose and placed both his hands on her shoulders. This time she did not resist the contact. “I promise, Miriam, I will do nothing for now. You have my word. We will talk about it once you’ve had time to recover.”
With absolute tenderness, he walked her to the door and instructed a servant waiting just outside to escort her to her room.
“Please, Martok,” she begged. “Spare her. I’ll do anything. Just spare my mother.”
Dragonvein Book Four Page 17
