There was, however, word on more hellspawn attacks springing up throughout the outer provinces. But that wasn’t his problem. The royal guard would handle it. He took a sip of his manga juice and let out a contented sigh. All that hardship and death...all those years of chasing runners...they were now a fading memory, consigned to the past like an unhappy dream.
He would liked to have spoken to the prince one more time, but hadn’t yet heard a thing from him. Shortly after Salazar was taken away, Drake had been spirited off to a holding facility, while the officer who had helped them was taken directly to a hospital. As for his wounds, he had been treated on site. Which was fine. Thanks to the vex crystal in his chest, most of them were healing on their own anyway.
He cast a gaze around the small apartment. It was perfect. Though not lavish, it was more than comfortable and possessed every amenity he might need. A sudden urge to jump into the shower came over him. This was his favorite feature of all; he must have used it at least fifty times already in the fortnight since moving in. Only manga juice held a more special place in his heart. And though he hadn’t heard directly from Salazar, the prince had indeed been true to his word – his apartment was situated right next door to a manga juice shop. What’s more, the owner had been instructed to provide Drake with all the juice he desired, free of charge. With his reward money, he could well afford to purchase it for himself, but it was a kind gesture all the same.
He was not one to be idle; sooner or later he knew he would need to find work. All the same, it was surprising how easily he had settled into a life of pure relaxation. He kicked his feet up onto the table. Perhaps a job could wait a little bit longer. Besides, he had no idea yet of what he wanted to do.
He shut his eyes and listened to the music playing. “One more week,” he muttered. “I think I’ve earned that much.”
A knock at the door drew a grumble. He wanted to ignore it, but the sound became ever more persistent.
“Come in, Linx!” he called out.
The door cracked open and she stepped inside, her face beaming with excitement. “Good. You’re up.”
“Of course I’m up. It’s only… What time is it exactly?”
“Past your bedtime, old man.” She skipped over to the couch, then jumped into his lap.
Drake almost dropped his juice. “Careful. I just cleaned up in here. Anyhow, what’s got you so chipper?”
“I’m moving!”
He cocked his head. “Moving? You’ve just got here.” The prince had arranged for Linx to have an apartment in the next building down.
“I’m keeping my place,” she explained. “But they’re giving me a room in the dormitory at the Royal College as well.”
“You’re moving to upper Troi?”
She straightened her back and nodded sharply, her smile wide. “The prince recommended me. I’m to get proper instruction on the mana terminals.”
Drake smiled back. “That’s wonderful. You know my father went there.”
“I won’t be allowed off the grounds like he was,” she said. “But it’s still upper Troi.”
“It is, and it’s very nice. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“Of course I will. I’m Linx, after all.” She slid from his lap and sat beside him, bouncing several times on the cushion and kicking her feet onto the table.
Drake noticed her confidant expression crack slightly. “You really will be fine,” he said in a reassuring tone.
“Yeah, I know. But most of the people I’ll be learning with have already been at it for years. I haven’t had all their classes and special training.”
“You’ll be fine. Anyone who can learn what you did on your own definitely belongs there. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
“Thanks. I guess I am just a little nervous. It was weird enough when I first came here. I kept thinking everyone would know I was from the provinces.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being from the provinces,” Drake assured her. “Just keep to your studies and you’ll do as well as anyone. Most of the students are just as scared as you.”
“Yeah? But they’re kids. I’m about to be nineteen.”
“Does anyone need to know that?”
“The professors will.”
Drake eyed her with a grin. “They’ll also know who recommended you. I doubt you’ll have much trouble from them.”
She jumped up. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I was leaving. I have to go pack now.” Leaning down, she kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back between courses. We can talk more then.”
When she reached the door, she paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. The guy in the lobby said someone left a package for you. I told him I’d take it, but for some reason he said you have to collect it yourself.”
“Thanks, Linx. And remember, you belong at that college just as much as anyone else.”
She squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “Yeah. You’re damn right I do.”
Once she was gone, Drake found himself feeling more than a touch sad. With her irrepressible enthusiasm and curiosity, Linx could be irritating at times: that much was certain. The first day she arrived, she’d insisted on him showing her around what felt like the entire fifth level. And at least once a day she would show up unexpectedly at his apartment to tell him about something new she had discovered in the city. But for all that, he drew pleasure from her company. Her leaving meant that he would now be alone, with no friends or anyone else to talk to. And when he was alone, thoughts of Lenora arose unbidden. Thoughts he had no business having.
He shook his head and blew out a heavy breath. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered. “Since when did you need company?”
After finishing his juice, he went downstairs to the lobby. Chanz, the attendant, was dozing at his desk. He was a nice enough fellow: a man in his early fifties with a quirky sense of humor that Drake rather enjoyed. The fact that Drake was moving in from the provinces didn’t seem to bother him at all. To Drake’s mind, this was a sign of good character.
He stepped close to the dozing attendant. “Linx said you have something for me.”
Chanz snapped to attention, then realizing that it was Drake, relaxed his posture. “Oh, it’s you. My god, man, can’t you at least take the lift so I can hear you coming?”
“Sorry. I need the exercise.”
“Yeah. A life of leisure does that to a man. How in the hell did you manage that, anyway? You rob the king or something?”
“Something like that. So do you have a package for me or not?”
Chanz reached into the desk drawer and retrieved a small box wrapped in brown paper. “Some guy from the royal guard dropped it off. Said I was to hand it only to you. Told me that three times – like I didn’t hear him the first two.”
Drake took the box and shoved it into his pocket. “Did he say anything else?”
“Nope. I think he expected me to bring it up to you. But I’m no messenger boy. Besides, you come down for your juice three times a day. I figured I’d see you soon enough.”
The mention of manga juice brought on a craving. Whatever was in the box could wait. He must have drunk a hundred cups of the stuff already and still wasn’t the least bit tired of it.
“You want a juice too?” he asked.
“What I want is a nap,” Chanz replied, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.
Drake took the hint and moved off. As he entered the manga juice shop next door, the man behind the counter grimaced.
“You’re going to put me out of business,” he grumbled, grabbing a cup from behind the counter.
Drake reached in his pocket and pulled out a twenty note. “Here. That should cover it.”
The man, whose name was Kirk, poured the drink and passed it over. A smile then formed. “I appreciate that, but I was only kidding. I send the bill straight to the magistrate’s office. You take care, though. Too much of this stuff isn’t good for you.”
Kirk coughed a laugh. “What would I need with a partner? There’s not much to this. And not enough money in it. You, my friend, enjoy manga juice far more than most folks around here.”
“What about if you had more to offer your customers?”
“More? Like what? I don’t have the money to build a kitchen, or to buy the licenses. I’m lucky I can keep the doors open as it is.”
“But what if you did? Would you be willing to give it a try?”
The man eyed him skeptically. “Now why in Vale would you want to partner up with some old coot like me? You got any idea how much it would take to get this place running right again?”
Drake stepped back and took a long look around. The interior was certainly showing its age. But overall, it wasn’t in such terrible shape. There was plenty of room for a dining area, and he was sure he could put a kitchen in somewhere.
“Why don’t you find out and let me know?” he suggested. “That is, if you’re interested.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to find out,” Kirk conceded. “Though I still don’t get why. If you have that kind of money, why not just open up a new shop of your own?”
“Because I’m lazy. And I have no idea what I’m doing.” Drake took a sip of his drink. “Anyhow, you make the best manga juice in lower Troi.”
The compliment was sufficient to have Kirk puffing out his chest. “You’re damn right I do. And if you’re serious, I’ll teach you the secret.”
“Just get me the numbers, and we’ll talk.”
Drake left the shop feeling better than he had since being made captain of the royal guard. He finally had something to look forward to, something beyond sheer survival or finding a way to return home. He had a direction. A purpose. If someone had asked him years ago if he could be happy as a lowly shop owner, he would have told them that the idea was insane. But now…right now, he felt almost giddy with excitement.
Back in his apartment, he jumped in the shower and got himself ready for bed. The name of the shop would have to change, of course. Kirk’s Manga was not catchy enough. Kirk and Drake’s, maybe? Manga and More? No…Manga Drake’s. Kirk wouldn’t mind. By the time he was drying his hair, he realized that his face was sore from smiling at all the possibilities.
It was only when he went to hang up his jacket that he felt the box Chanz had given him. In his excitement, he had completely forgotten about it. He ripped away the paper and found a tin box with a hinged lid. Inside this was a holodisk marked Prince Salazar, Confidential.
Moving over to the holoplayer in front of the couch, he inserted the disk. After just a few seconds, the screen came to life. There stood Lord Malcoy, the man whom he had been convicted of murdering. Drake was standing directly in front of him, dressed in his finest uniform and his face a mask of utter fury. Even without the volume, he could hear the words that had been spoken between them all too clearly in his head.
Drake sat heavily on the floor as the video played out the scene.
“How dare you accuse the princess,” he fumed.
Lord Malcoy was dressed in a white silk shirt and black jacket. His fingers and neck dripped with gold and jewels, and his chestnut curls were heavily oiled and pushed straight back. The disdain he held for Drake was reflected clearly in his expression. He was a man of high status and wanted everyone to be fully aware of that in a single glance.
“Mind how you address me, Captain,” he replied. Though also angry, his voice carried the measured, even tones of the nobility. “The princess has sullied herself by her association with you. Do you imagine I will simply turn a blind eye?”
“What proof do you have?”
“I have my word as a noble. That is sufficient. I saw you together; do not try to deny it. And when I tell people of what I know, they too will see her for the whore that she is.”
Drake knew what was coming next and almost couldn’t bear to watch. His fist shot out, connecting solidly with Malcoy’s jaw. The lord dropped to the floor and then scampered back.
Shock soon turned to rage as Malcoy rose to one knee. “I’ll see you expelled from the city for this. You hear me? You’ll be living in the provinces by the end of the day. I swear it!”
Drake loomed over him for a long moment. His hand drifted to the P37 at his side.
Here it comes, he thought, forcing himself to keep watching. But to his astonishment, nothing happened. At least, not what he was expecting to happen. Not what had convicted him.
“Do what you must,” he growled, then turned and stormed from the room.
Drake could not believe what he was watching. He had always known that the video used to convict him had been manipulated. He had searched everywhere for the original without success. And yet here it was now, delivered right to his door.
He was about to replay the entire scene when he saw another figure appear; one that he recognized instantly.
“Your Highness,” said Malcoy, pushing himself to his feet. “I was just about to come speak with you.”
Salazar was wearing the red one-piece jumpsuit that he used when exercising. The towel thrown over his shoulder said that he had just finished. “Is that right?” he asked. “Please tell me why. Was it to inform me that my sister is sleeping with the captain of the royal guard?”
Lord Malcoy’s mouth opened in astonishment. “You knew? And you allowed it to continue?”
“Of course I knew. Drake is my best friend. You couldn’t possibly imagine a thing like that could be kept from me.” The prince paused ominously. “But it isn’t my sister’s indiscretion that concerns me right now. It’s yours.”
“Mine?” Malcoy managed to gasp out. “I’m sure I do not know what you are talking about. What have I done wrong? It is the princess who –”
Salazar’s hand shot up. “You will be quiet. If you were more of a man – or maybe if Drake were less of one – you would not have this problem. As it is, the only reason you are being permitted to wed my sister is that you are both a noble and a high mage. Only two families can boast of such a distinction, and the Halvershans have no children of suitable age. Be that as it may, do go ahead and express your outrage to the whole of Vale if it pleases you. Then watch as another marries the princess in your stead. You have a cousin, if I am not mistaken. I’m sure he would be quite willing to see past my sister’s shortcomings.”
Lord Malcoy fumed. “I will not be made a fool of,” he snapped, turning to leave.
Salazar caught his arm. “You are not dismissed…my lord. There is another matter I must take up with you. One that I find most disturbing.”
Malcoy wrenched his arm away. “If you think to humiliate me further…”
“Hrashast.”
Lord Malcoy froze. “Where did you hear that word?”
“Does it matter?”
“Where?” he repeated, his voice a mere whisper.
“So it’s true,” mused Salazar. “I had hoped I was wrong. But it is true.”
“Whatever you think you have discovered, I suggest you forget it.”
Salazar’s face hardened. “Forget it? Are you mad? And once my father hears of this…”
The smile creeping up on Malcoy’s face silenced him. Slowly, the smile turned to laughter.
“You had better tell me what is so amusing about this,” the prince demanded.
“You think the king does not know already? Of course he does. And the fact that he keeps his royal tongue behind his teeth is why he remains king. So if you think to threaten me, or the high mages, I would indeed speak to your father first if I were you. Otherwise, I think you might find yourself in quite a sticky situation.”
Salazar stared at Malcoy, his air of confidence draining away. “Why would you do this?”
“Why? You can’t be serious. It’s control, Your Highness. Control over the people of Vale. Control over Troi
. And yes, control over you as well. You see, even being aware of such knowledge is punishable by death. Unless, of course, you are a high mage or the king.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re a liar!”
“Frankly, Your Highness, given the current situation, I couldn’t care less what you believe. All you need do is go to your father and look into his eyes. Watch as the horror of what he knows could happen to his only son sinks into his royal head.”
With a sneer, he turned to leave. “One more thing,” he said over his shoulder. “I want Captain Sharazi driven from the city today. After that, have your sister prepare for our wedding. Oh, and do be sure she is scrubbed clean.”
Salazar watched helplessly as Lord Malcoy strode toward the door. Then, as if a flood had burst forth from somewhere deep inside him, he spread his arms wide.
“Malcoy!” he shouted, his hands glowing a vivid red.
The lord turned, a stunned expression suddenly appearing on his face. “What are you doing? Are you mad?”
These were his last words. A stream of mana leaped from the prince’s hands, striking him in the center of his chest and throwing him hard against the wall. He slumped down to the floor, with smoke rising from his flesh and clothing.
The prince staggered backwards, gazing in horror at what he had done for several seconds before finally spinning on his heels and running wildly from the room.
The moment he was gone, the screen went dark.
Drake felt as if a knife had been driven into his heart. All these years, and now it turns out that it was Salazar who killed Malcoy. And what was worse...much worse...was that his best friend had framed him by altering the video. He had been betrayed by someone he trusted implicitly.
Even as he was still trying to come to terms with this devastating discovery, he saw smoke beginning to rise from the holovid. With a cry of anguish he jumped to his feet and raced over to the machine in an attempt to remove the disk. It was melting away into nothing but smoke and dust.
The Vale: Behind The Vale Page 20
