He turned to see her curling her chestnut hair behind her ear. She held a collection of old parchments against her chest.
“Good afternoon, Meriam.” He climbed down, giving himself a moment to muster a stern, focused face. “Just looking for something…What are you doing in the library?”
“Bellumet sent me to look for the old drawings of the visitor quarters. He thinks there are hidden passages behind the walls. Do you know what that’s all about?”
“I would have thought the old engineer kept such papers in his chambers.”
She feigned sad eyes. “Not happy to see me?”
“Meriam…” He tore his eyes from hers. He always felt at peace looking into her deep brown eyes, but his father had entrusted him with preparing the city. He opened his mouth to give his excuses but found himself clutching a nearby chair as his breath was interrupted. Her playful gaze flashed with fear.
“Arthan, are you all right? Did you feel it again?”
“It’s fine.”
“You need to see the physician. You only have one heart. Even if it can’t be mine, you must take care of yourself.”
“I don’t have time for that. It comes and goes. It’s fine.” He felt her glare but did not meet her eyes. He skimmed the upper shelves. “I was just looking for the Mordmerg survey. I was curious…” He knew she would take the lure.
“Digging up the past? I thought you didn’t have time to waste.”
“I’m not doing it because of Mother. There is new trouble in the free city that doesn’t sit well with me. Medoff says it’s nothing and Golbane is there, but…”
Meriam closed the distance as he spoke. She smelled like the chief engineer’s chambers. Ink and paper, brass instruments, and old Bellumet’s pipe. And lilac. Though a commoner, Meriam was more beautiful than any nobleman’s daughter. Arthan physically shook the notion from his head.
“What?” she asked, her face close to his.
He knew she knew. “Meriam, I have work to do.”
“A man does his duty better when a woman balances his life.”
“We’ve been through this. Father would never—”
“You’ll be lord minister one day. Maybe then you’ll do as you desire.”
“Is my love in secret not enough?”
“Do I have even that? The fortune of being the mistress of a young lord? Or am I merely an occasional entertainment for you?”
“Meriam…”
“You have work to do,” she said, turning past him. “And so do I.” She laid her parchments on the table, then searched the low shelf for the old castle drawings. “If I see the Mordmerg book I’ll leave it out.”
He turned to the door.
“Arthan…”
He looked back at her.
“You must see the physician about your heart.”
He turned and departed from the library, struggling to focus his mind.
7. FETZER
Perilune, Barres Ministry
Midspring, 3034
Fetzer thought no more of the smoke and shouting behind him at his uncle’s house. His mind was moving forward, leading him through the slums of Perilune that he knew so well. They had regularly served as an escape for him when the stuffy academy became too much. Despite his own arrogance, he preferred the plainspoken poor over the snotty-nosed cadets. And he knew exactly where to go this time.
“What do you want?” sneered the grouchy, round-faced man in the doorway.
“I want to work on one of your boats.”
“Do I look like a merchant? Be gone!”
Fetzer put his foot in the door. “You look like Rilranef the Round.”
“Maybe I am, maybe not. What makes you think I have a job for you?”
“I’ve seen your…sailors, let’s call them, working down on the Elme River, at the Eddengard inland port. I want to go to sea.”
“Forget about it. What else have you seen?”
“I’ve seen enough to know the money is good. Stolen goods move quickly and demand is high. I won’t ask questions.”
Rilranef’s round face scrunched uneasily. “You’re a petty noble…and I don’t know you and no one sent you.”
“I’m just a traveler. My name is Fetzer. Perhaps only my first name will suffice?”
“I won’t hire you. Get out.”
Fetzer flung his cloak and pulled his father’s Perilune sword. Staggering back, Rilranef reached for a fish knife on the table. Fetzer slammed his sword on the knife and shoved Rilranef away. “I thieved this nobleman’s sword from the academy. Worth ten lorins or more.”
The man glanced at the sword. “I don’t need a thief…Wouldn’t sell anyway, not here in Perilune. No one would take the risk.”
“I’ll do whatever job you need on the boats.”
Rilranef thought for a moment. “One of my captains needs a clerk. You read and write?” Fetzer nodded. “You’ll write up the papers for the cargo, then,” Rilranef continued, “to avoid the tax. If the ship is caught, you’re caught. Follow me? The job pays four faits a day plus rations and a Calbrian silver penny if the job goes smoothly. Be at the Eddengard docks by sundown tomorrow.”
“Who shall I ask for?”
“Talk to no one but Captain Renaud. The ship is the Meurden. Here.” Rilranef pinched a quill and scratched on a scrap of paper for Fetzer.
“A triangle with a dot?”
“It’s all you’ll need. Don’t lose it and don’t ask questions.”
---
Fetzer found a crate in a quiet alley where he could write in his journal and sleep the day away. When night fell he ate from his pack, then started walking to Eddengard. He walked all night along the road, hiding in the bushes when riders approached. His mind drifted to his writings as he walked in the moonlight.
…can finally escape. My only regret is not seeing Fernon one last time. I imagine he has identified the charred remains of Uncle Laval. And the dead at Perilune are wet with their mothers’ tears…
Fetzer smiled to himself, proud of the manner in which he had exited. He whistled in the dark, thinking of what it would be like to be out on the open sea.
I have often dreamed of vast stretches of sparking water. The towers of Perilune tumbled down by the salty winds. The surrounding hills melting into the lake. It widens until the earth is pushed away and only the waves remain…
When Fetzer grew tired he slept in the forest until late morning. He broke the night fast and continued walking, preferring the shadows of the woods. It was midday when he came within view of the river port. He crept to a hidden overlook, discovered years prior, and took out his journal.
The port is not grand but it’s a jewel to me. I see the docks near the bridge to Wallevet. There are three river boats, only one of which could rightly be called a ship. It must be the Meurden. Men are loading it with sacks, barrels and crates. It seems like they are taking their time, though I’m no sailor. Sundown is a while yet. I will sleep.
When Fetzer awoke, the sky was beginning to redden as the sun dipped between the peaks of the Harkarom Mountains. The sailors had finished loading and were lying about, waiting. The other boats were gone.
As Fetzer gathered up his things, something changed. A bell rang out and the crew of the Meurden unfurled her sails. Three figures ran toward the docks from the far side of the bridge. One of the figures was a lumbering hulk, the other two thin and nimble like women. They did not slow down until they were aboard the ship, where they disappeared belowdecks.
Fetzer scrambled down from the overlook, trying to keep his eye on the ship. The remaining sailors were boarding. He hurried down the road and trotted up to the ship as they were pulling the gangplank. The sailors glared at him.
“I have the triangle dot,” he hissed, holding up the scrap of paper. The sailors paused, then extended the gangplank and he hopped aboard as the ship pulled away.
---
“New clerk?” Renau
d asked. Fetzer stared back at the captain’s squinty eyes. “I didn’t need a clerk.”
Fetzer looked out across the river to the darkening banks, then out to the deck before them. When he glanced back at the captain, he spotted a half-corked bottle of Gromanese wine in Renaud’s hand.
“Grom is my favorite,” Fetzer said. “Unfortunately, the thieves of the Perilune slums can never steal enough from the nobles’ tables to satisfy demand.”
Renaud’s scowl softened for a moment. “Yes, yes. A most fine wine…I’ll wager smuggling is nothing new to you?”
“Newly rekindled, let’s say. But I’m new to the sea for sure.”
“Get belowdecks and make yourself useful clerking the cargo. Stay out of the way or silver pennies is the least you’ll lose. And do your vomiting above or you’ll swab the whole deck for a week.”
Fetzer excused himself and descended into the nearest hatch. From the ladder he bumped into the walls and other smugglers as he tried to find his footing amid the rocking of the ship. When the Meurden lurched to starboard he spilled into the kitchen, where a sack of flour burst to break his fall.
“I’m the new clerk,” he said, trying to gather up the pile.
The cook grinned. “Been on ship before?” Fetzer shook his head as the cook extended his hand. “I’m Greffid. Scoop it up like this. I won’t say a word.”
Fetzer stood when most of the flour was recovered. “I was looking for the quarters.”
“Officers get the aft cabins near the captain’s. I’m there too because Renaud likes to eat.”
“I’m an officer?”
“On this ship you are. If as clerk you don’t fake our papers properly, we’re all in the brig. That’s your job. Come, I’ll show you the quarters.”
Greffid stowed a few more supplies, then led Fetzer toward the rear of the ship. “Over there is the captain’s chamber. This one is the first mate’s, and a few others are down that corridor. You’ll be with me in here. Five hammocks, four empty, so take your pick. Usually they’d be occupied but Renaud isn’t keen on this crew for some reason. He makes them sleep toward the bow.”
Fetzer remembered the three figures who hurried aboard ship before he did. He also remembered the warning from Rilranef the Round to not ask questions. “Thank you, Greffid.”
“Clerks read and write. Might you teach me to read a bit before we get to Leauvenna?”
“Leauvenna?” Fetzer asked. “We aren’t going to Middlesea?”
“No.” Greffid smiled. “We’d need more food for that voyage. First we’ll be on the rivers a bit, then to the island ministry.”
Fetzer put his pack in a hammock. “Fine enough. Yes, Greffid, I can teach you to read.”
---
During rations Fetzer tried to ask Captain Renaud how he might make the cargo ledger forgeries. But the captain wanted to focus on his wine, not business. So Fetzer retired to his hammock. He found it difficult to sleep, so he pulled out his journal and wrote by the light of the tin lantern that swung from above.
I’m not one day from Perilune and already the world is different. Ship life is cramped and difficult, but it’s better than the academy. Despite making a mess of his kitchen, I’ve also found one who might be called a friend. But I remind myself that these men are thieves. Smugglers. Criminals. And a means to an end: escape…
8. MARLAN
Mordmerg Free City, Delavon Ministry
Midspring, 3034
“Didn’t think I’d ever have to see you again.”
Arasemis smiled. “Thank you for standing down your men, Navarron. It would have been a shame to have to kill them just to talk to you.”
Marlan glanced at the Blackhoods who remained in the room. Most were younger than he, and he guessed they had no idea who Arasemis was. But the veteran Navarron clearly remembered exactly who he was dealing with.
“Send them out,” Arasemis said, gesturing toward the young Blackhoods.
Navarron chaffed. “You don’t come here and order me around.”
“I’ll do more than that. If you don’t want my gold I’ll dump it on your closest enemy. Get them out.”
Navarron scowled but gestured to his men. Marlan was impressed with the Blackhoods’ lair in the basement of a respectable tavern on a busy Mordmerg street. But the Blackhoods themselves were a bit soft to him.
“But your friend can stay?” Navarron asked. “Who is he?”
“We’ll get to that,” Arasemis said, reaching inside his cloak. Navarron jumped back from the table, overturning the candle. His sword was already out. Arasemis chuckled. “Settle down. If I wanted you dead would I do it like this? You’ve seen my work.” Arasemis pulled a coin pouch from his cloak and tossed it into the spilled wax on the table. “Sit down.”
Marlan watched as Navarron carefully returned to his seat, his eyes shifting between Marlan and Arasemis.
“If this is some trick, you won’t get out of here with your lives,” Navarron said.
“Which is why you know this isn’t how I’d do you in.” Arasemis smiled. “Now, if you can settle yourself long enough to talk business, I have a job for you. You’ve heard about the Empire Alliance Council that will be held in Rachard?”
“Just another way for the Donovards to make a grab for our city-state. What of it?”
“I’ve also heard about the fires in Mordmerg. Is that your idiotic way of warning them off the city?”
“Just cleaning up some of our former rivals,” Navarron said. “We’re united now, so tell your Donovard brothers not to try anything.”
“You know me, Navarron. My loyalty is to myself.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to do more than fires.”
“Destroy my own city? You’re mad.”
“The Empire Alliance is going to fall. Then, after the Almerians evacuate, the Donovards will come for Mordmerg and the other free cities, and you know it. Unless you demonstrate you’re a snake that’s not to be toyed with.”
“What makes you think I need your help? Count Golbane is already here. We’re dealing with it.”
“Expel him by any means necessary. The more violent the better.” Arasemis grinned.
“We plan to.”
“And do you have a plan to deal with the lord minister when he comes?”
“Well, no, but we—”
“Once Maillard is no longer distracted with the Empire Alliance, and especially if it collapses, the Valients will come for your city. I don’t think your Blackhoods are prepared for the Army of Delavon, are they?”
Marlan watched Navarron chew the inside of his lip. His silence answered the question.
“That is why I’m here,” Arasemis said, smiling again.
“Why are you suddenly so concerned about our fate?”
Arasemis feigned surprise. “As a merchant with many interests in your city-state, I care deeply…”
“Then why not talk to the alderman about your interests, instead of coming to me?”
“You know my trade is not, how shall we say, in the light.”
“How do you propose to help, then?”
“I want to finance your Blackhoods properly.” Arasemis tossed a second coin purse onto the table. “We both know you’ll need it.”
“In return for what?”
“Killing Maillard’s nephew.”
“I told you we would take care of Golbane. We’re waiting for—”
“Stop waiting. Kill him as soon as possible, then defend yourself when Maillard comes for his revenge. You’ll have more than enough gold to pay your Blackhoods and anyone else you can recruit. Survive this and perhaps I’ll have further use for you.”
“You still haven’t told me who this kid is.”
“He’s my liaison to you. Marlan has ensured many of my trading interests, if you will. Indispensable for this effort.”
“I don’t need him,” Navarron said, glaring at Marlan.
“Yes, you do. He has inside knowledge of the Army of Delavon…”
Marlan looked at Arasemis but didn’t dare act surprised. He quickly turned back to Navarron. The Blackhoods leader regarded him with suspicion.
“Marlan will help you find the weaknesses in their attack when it comes,” Arasemis said.
“Just tell me what I need to know now,” Navarron said.
“The knowledge is dependent on the circumstances of their attack,” Marlan said, playing along with whatever ruse the master was building. “I’ll not be in your way, I assure you.”
“So, Navarron. You have some seed gold, more is coming, and you have the kid’s secrets about the enemy. Kill Golbane and survive Maillard. Then be open to working more together when it’s all done.”
Navarron watched them for a moment.
Arasemis threw a third coin pouch on the table to prompt him. “Four hundred guldirs to start. Marlan has more and perhaps you’ll get a bonus at the end.”
Navarron’s eyes finally dipped toward the bags. He reached out to take the gold. Arasemis leaned in and snatched his wrist. “We have an agreement?”
“Yes, agreed.”
Arasemis stood. “Marlan, a word before I leave.”
Marlan followed the master up to the tavern, feeling Navarron’s eyes on the back of his head.
“Inside knowledge?” Marlan asked, strolling toward the tavern bar.
Arasemis grabbed him and jerked him close. “Silence. Keep to yourself and say as little as possible. Golbane’s death will draw Maillard to Mordmerg. Then finish him, as we discussed.”
“Do you want me to kill Navarron after?”
“Leave him be. We may have further use for the Blackhoods if they make it through this.”
“Master, does Navarron know who we are?”
“Of course not. He thinks I’m a merchant. Bloodthirsty and willing to pay for anything, which is true. Don’t let them see your alchemy or equipment until absolutely necessary. If it all goes wrong, remember your training and get out. If you can’t, then take the name Candlestone to your grave. Don’t disappoint me.”
Lords of Deception Page 4
