“M’dove, did you really expect me to?” Erizen smiled charmingly, leaning back in his chair and spreading his hands. He ignored Toman and Esset completely.
“I expect nature to act on all of us,” the sergeant replied. Esset had trouble reading her tone—was that bitterness? Disappointment? He couldn’t tell.
“Gretchen, my rose, you are as lovely as ever!” Erizen waxed. The sergeant snorted.
“What do you want here, Erizen?” she asked, bluntly driving the conversation back to practical matters. Esset was glad because he had no idea what kind of history these two had together. Whatever it was, it had to have been interesting; how had the sergeant not killed this guy yet? He couldn’t see her putting up with him for any length of time.
“You mentioned connecting people who can do things with those who need things done, and here I am. I happen to have something that needs doing,” Erizen said. He looked down his nose at Toman and Esset.
“Do these two pups need to hang around, or can they loiter elsewhere?” he asked. The sergeant snorted.
“As if you’d approach me when they were here if you didn’t already know who they were and what they were doing here,” she said. “Since you did approach me, I imagine they’re relevant somehow, so they stay. Now, I suppose your presence in the area at this time is completely coincidental.”
“To Moloch’s little massacre? Of course. Tasteless business, and dreadfully messy,” Erizen said. Toman stiffened. Esset thought the fact that Erizen instantly knew what Sergeant Warthog was referring to was more than a little suspicious, as was the fact that the sergeant thought Erizen might be involved.
“I’ve heard you’ve been rubbing shoulders with Moloch and his ilk,” the sergeant replied.
“Alliances come and go,” Erizen said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Such things cannot come between old…friends such as us.” The way Erizen paused and then lingered on “friends” disturbed Esset a little. He glanced at Toman, but his brother’s face was a neutral mask. Erizen continued. “After all, as has been said, I have not changed.”
Sergeant Warthog looked him up and down but didn’t deign to respond. Silence between them reigned. Esset suddenly realized that Erizen had lost his accent.
“You injure me again, thinking me capable of such a thing,” Erizen said. Sergeant Warthog snorted in derision. Again.
“With an ego the size of yours, injuring it isn’t difficult,” she responded. “It probably injures your pride that the whole world doesn’t worship you as a god. Keep talking.”
“Well, worship would be nice, but—”
“About why you’re here.”
“Ah, yes. As I suspect you’re aware, I’ve moved up in the world. I’m a lord now, as I’ve come into possession of one of several territories under the control of a council of dark mages, Moloch among them. Mostly we keep to ourselves, but some interaction among us is, of course, necessary, and we convene occasionally.” He’s a dark mage. Esset flicked his brown eyes towards Sergeant Warthog for a moment before studying Erizen again.
“I don’t know that I would call joining a bunch of dark mages ‘moving up,’” the sergeant remarked. Erizen tsked.
“It’s not like I go around killing babies,” he shot back, his manner dismissive.
“You still have the stink of blood magic on you,” the sergeant replied.
“Mostly I glean my power elsewhere. Now, if I may continue?”
“I’ve never been able to stop you before.”
“Quite. Now, as you would imagine, maintaining such relations requires something of an illusion on my part. Wanton death and destruction has never been my preference, although it sometimes has its uses. My compatriots and I disagree on that point.”
“Are you going to get to the point any time soon?” the sergeant asked.
“Very well.” Erizen sniffed. “I have a monster problem on one of my borders. Normally I wouldn’t care overmuch, but the father of my favorite concubine happens to live in the village it’s been attacking, and she’s been complaining dreadfully. I could get a new concubine, but she is a favorite of mine…and highly skilled. You see, there’s this most delightful thing she can do with her tongue—”
“And the monster?”
“They say it’s a dragon, but I doubt it. Probably a wyvern of some kind, maybe a loose mage construct. It would be easy enough for me to dispose of, of course, but again, of course, it might then seem like I care about my subjects, and that wouldn’t do at all. I’d have to go smite a village or something to even the scales, and I really couldn’t be bothered. Additionally, the border it’s harassing is a shared one, and I’d rather not offend the other lord. So, since I have plenty of money, simply paying someone to take care of the problem is easiest—and leaves no one else the wiser. I know you can be discreet, my dear,” Erizen drawled.
“I can also pick and choose my clients,” Sergeant Warthog said.
“I appreciate the bluff, dahlin’, but I know that even if you wanted to turn me down, you wouldn’t turn down all those poor folks getting killed by the, ah, ‘dragon.’” Erizen’s drawl was back.
“We’ll do it,” Toman cut in. Erizen turned his condescending grey eyes on Toman.
“Who asked you?” he asked.
“You, essentially,” Toman said dryly. “We’d have to be morons to miss that, and we’re not.”
“My mistake,” Erizen said in his most pleasant tone. Esset bristled and bit his tongue.
“Boys, why don’t you go see if the barkeep has any local news from while we were gone and let me haggle out a price with Erizen,” the sergeant said—it wasn’t really a suggestion. Both of them silently regarded Erizen for a moment before picking up their meals and going to the bar.
“Okay, why are you really here?” Sergeant Warthog asked.
“Um, dark lord, politics, concubine with dexterous fingers?” Erizen reiterated.
“Really here,” the sergeant repeated.
“Everything is what it seems. I don’t always play games,” he said. The sergeant snorted.
“Everything is a game to you. Or is that the problem? Have your games gotten a little too serious in your political position?” Sergeant Warthog asked.
“Never,” Erizen said with a wolfish smile.
“Is that so? Then why would you be here? Why ask for my help? I was wrong. You have changed. The Erizen of old would have risen to the challenge of ridding himself of a pest without his fellow lords knowing. Even if you have an ulterior motive for coming here and asking for help, that’s still a change.” Sergeant Warthog kept prodding.
“You’re as paranoid as ever, m’love,” Erizen said lazily.
“Moloch hasn’t broken or bought you, has he?” Sergeant Warthog let disgust and suspicion creep into her tone.
“No.” The spark in Erizen’s eyes bespoke truth, but it flickered too quickly for Sergeant Warthog to identify the expression as fear or anger or some combination thereof.
“Hmm. Well, be that as it may, I suppose we have a price to negotiate. Now I know you can afford rather a lot, and given the charity cases we take that need to be balanced out, I think you can afford to be generous.” It was her turn to sport a wolfish grin.
“You seek to rob an old friend? For shame, mah Gretchen, for shame! I thought better of you than that.”
“Nonsense, Erizen. You’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”
Toman and Esset weren’t inclined to make small talk with the barkeep. They kept their eyes on Erizen—they didn’t need to speak to know they were on the same page when it came to the man, although Toman was more pensive about the situation than Esset. Toman was musing on the implications of their visitor and the upcoming job when Sergeant Warthog waved them back over.
“It’s all settled then!” Erizen said cheerfully. Toman and Esset both glanced at the sergeant, who nodded confirmation. Erizen rose smoothly and extended a hand to them. Esset automatically took it, good manners too ingrained in him to prev
ent the movement. When their hands closed, Esset stiffened and staggered back as a jolt passed through their extended arms. Toman’s hackles went up.
“Toman!” Sergeant Warthog stopped him before he could make a grab for the mage, who now strode out of the tavern with a smug air about him. The animator looked at her sharply and then at his brother, who seemed to be recovering.
“I’m fine,” Esset said, even as he shook his head as if to clear it.
“Instantaneous knowledge transfer,” Sergeant Warthog said. “Irritating, but not dangerous.”
“What?” Toman’s eyes darted between the two of them rapidly in obvious confusion.
“I know where to go find this…monster,” Esset said. “And how to get to Erizen’s capital.”
“What?” Toman repeated more emphatically.
“And…a few other things.” A crease appeared between Esset’s eyebrows.
Toman waved a hand in front of Esset’s face to try to recall him to the real world. Esset blinked and focused his gaze on Toman.
“Instantaneous knowledge transfer,” the summoner said, echoing the sergeant’s explanation.
“Meaning?” Toman fished.
“Meaning when he touched me, he instantaneously transferred certain knowledge to me. How very efficient.” Esset moved his head sharply to look out the door after Erizen, and he winced in doing so. “And unpleasant,” he added.
“As most who know him discover,” the sergeant put in dryly.
“Can we seriously trust this guy?” Toman demanded of the sergeant.
“No,” Sergeant Warthog replied honestly enough. “Or at least, you can’t trust him very far. He’s very dangerous, and very clever. He’s also mostly amoral. However, if it is in his best interest to work with us, we have gained a powerful ally.”
“But the moment that changes…” Toman prompted.
“Then we have a very dangerous enemy,” Esset finished, but he was clearly skeptical on the ally part.
“Well, he wouldn’t necessarily go straight from friend to foe, but he’d certainly hang you out to dry,” the sergeant corrected them.
“Charming,” Toman said.
“So it’s possible we’re walking into a trap, then,” Esset said.
“Possibly,” the sergeant admitted. “But I don’t think so. Not this time. And as things stand, I’m fairly sure he won’t betray you for anything in the future either. There was something about him I’d never seen before. It’s a dangerous edge to walk, but I think he’ll remain benign.
“Now, the odds of him not knowing about your plans to go after Moloch are slim to none, but I still wouldn’t mention it, just in case,” she warned.
“That went without saying,” Esset muttered. “So what’s the deal with this guy? How do you even know him?”
Sergeant Warthog exhaled heavily and put her forehead in her palm before pushing her hair from her face. “I met Erizen…a long time ago. Back before I was a sergeant. I was just a greenhorn, actually. We worked together on a few jobs. He’s actually a few years older than I am. Anyways, he’s very clever and resourceful, and his magic is very strong even without his cleverness to amplify it. However, Erizen is…well, you just met him. He’s amoral. He likes what he likes and wants what he wants, and he doesn’t let ethics get in the way of getting and keeping what he likes and wants. He’s a hedonist and a narcissist, but he’s not evil. Although I can’t say I’m terribly surprised he’s fallen in with dark mages.”
“Hang on, Erizen is older than you are? He looks… Well, he looks closer to our age,” Esset said. “A lot closer.”
“This is one of the problems with the pair of you not being able to sense magic,” the sergeant said. “If you could, you’d be able to tell he’s a blood mage too. He’s not a sadist, but…” She shrugged. Esset squirmed at her ambivalent attitude towards blood magic.
“So he’s using blood magic to keep himself young?” Toman asked.
“I doubt it. Magic, yes. Blood magic, not necessarily. Erizen would be the kind to think that blood magic is too…well, messy, frankly. He has very likely cooked up something else. Besides, if he is a lord now, then blood magic would have his populace cowering in fear, and Erizen learned a long time ago that loyalty can be a far greater motivator than fear. Let me amend that—both is better than one or the other, but loyalty before fear. So I think his use of blood magic is likely limited…like he said himself.”
“I don’t like this at all,” Esset reiterated.
“Look, like I said, neither do I, but we have to work with what we have.” Sergeant Warthog met Esset’s eyes, then Toman’s. “I told you—do what you can to make sure that you and Erizen share common goals, and this can work out to our advantage. If we play our cards right, he might be able to get you boys some intelligence on Moloch, and maybe some other things.”
“So you’re going to help us with Moloch?” Toman asked. The sergeant’s expression darkened.
“I’m still considering it,” she said. Toman didn’t press her.
“Regardless, it looks like we’re heading to his kingdom tomorrow. Come on, Esset, let’s go get ready for another trip,” Toman said.
Esset’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded and followed his brother through the door.
“Are we seriously considering this?” Esset blurted once they were outside the tavern.
“Considering what?” Toman asked, deliberately obtuse.
“Allying ourselves with that man. Darkfires, even doing this job for him,” Esset said.
“I thought you’d be all over that part—we’re saving a village from a dragon,” Toman jested.
“I’m serious, Toman.”
“I know. But yes, I’m considering it, and you should be too. You know what we’re up against with Moloch—Erizen might be a gamble, but it could be a risk worth taking it if means taking down Moloch.”
“He’s a dark lord,” Esset said. “And worse, a blood mage. There’s no victory in defeating a bad guy if you become a bad guy in the process.”
“We’re not becoming bad guys just by doing a job for Erizen,” Toman said, actually a bit exasperated by the overly slippery slope Esset had set up.
“Not this job, maybe, but the next?” Esset challenged. “If we ally with him for the fight against Moloch? This is assuming he doesn’t turn on us, which is far from certain. What if he’s just using us in some power play against his rival lords? What if Sergeant Warthog is wrong about him and he’s just gonna hand us over to Moloch?”
“I trust Sergeant Warthog, don’t you? If she thinks we’re good on this one, we’re good. And maybe he is using us, but as long as we’re saving innocent people in the meantime, does it matter? It sounds like Erizen is a better alternative than the other dark lords, so it’s a lesser evil. We’re not doing anything unethical, and the end result is an improvement over the current situation. As long as that’s true, we’re good. If it doesn’t turn out that way, we make it right. If we have to take on Erizen too, so be it. We’ll use this job as an opportunity to gather what information we can on him and go from there. I know Erizen rubs you the wrong way, but you need to be objective about this, Esset.”
Esset scowled fiercely. “Fine. Let’s go get ready then.” Two garbled strings of syllables later, they each launched into the air on the backs of fiery birds. A local woman stopped and stared; Toman and Esset were common enough visitors, but the birds were a sight to behold.
Toman let the cold air clear his head even as the heat from the bird kept him warm. Their trip was a short one, just over the hill and well off the trade road. To anyone but the two of them, there was nothing to witness but a bit of low scrub on the ground below them and a few boulders and an abundance of rocks and tough grass; Toman and Esset alone saw the castle.
Small for a castle, it was nonetheless impressive. The walls were high and thick, embedded with a lattice of huge iron snakes and topped with square ramparts. Each corner of the walls was furnished with a tall, cylind
rical tower, and each tower had two rows of snarling gargoyles ringing it, one row level with the wall-tops, the other gracing the top of the tower. The peak of each tower also held a rearing, winged horse of stone. There was a fifth tower, the keep, at the center of the castle. It jutted up higher than the rest. It was adorned similarly to the other four, only it had three winged horses with their backs to each other and a tall flag at the center. The flag was black with a glowing white hand in the center.
They landed in a wide, open courtyard, its cobbled expanse interrupted only by two rows of statues, which created a pathway from the gates of the outer wall to the big double doors into the keep. The statues alternated; the lines were composed of a spear-or sword-wielding soldier, his mount, and a large dog—the breeds varied. As they landed, the door to the keep swung open to admit them without any sign of anyone to open them.
“Arxus, did anything interesting happen after we left?” Toman asked as he and Esset walked down the path toward the keep.
“No, Master Toman. There were a few stray travelers that I directed around me and towards the trade road, but nothing more.” The uninflected male voice came from one of the stone dogs, an intimidating mastiff that came to life as they walked past. At the shoulder, the big dog reached a grown man’s waist. Its pointed ears were pricked towards them as they walked.
“Thank you, Arxus,” Toman said absently.
“Here’s a thought,” Esset said in a tone that made Toman anticipate an argument.
“Run this plan past Arxus. He’s intelligent but unbiased, since he has no emotions. He should be able to fairly weigh the pros and cons.”
“You want to ask the castle’s opinion?” Toman asked. “Just because he has no emotions doesn’t mean he’s unbiased. He was created to protect the current animator, remember?”
“True. But it’s still a valid exercise,” Esset argued. The double doors of the keep swung open before them without visible aid and shut behind them after they passed through, leaving them in the great hall.
“Although advice is not my primary function, it is a service I can provide,” Arxus said blandly. Toman rubbed the bridge of his nose, shook his head, and stared blankly at the great hall before them. Massive tapestries lined the walls, and the ceilings were high and vaulted, lit by torches along the walls and an expansive chandelier high above. The hall stretched to the end in a raised stage-like structure that had a grand chair on it that somehow managed to barely avoid looking like a throne—at least to most eyes. Toman knew Esset thought the piece of furniture deserved that lofty status.
Calling On Fire (Book 1) Page 5
