Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  He turned and smiled coldly at the now visibly shaking man, who understood all too well what Malek had done.

  “I am sorry, Lady Calenbry, but unfortunately, most unfortunately, I have no authority over any debts owned by any of those lords you have mentioned!”

  Malek gazed at the list of names he found himself holding, the writing clearly his own. Malek blinked, not even sure when he had written down the names and amounts owed by various lords, as well as the holders of those loans. Perhaps it was in darkest dream, in the shape of a wolf that would consume the world entire, taking council with Endless Night itself, pulling true figments of dream into the waking world. It mattered not. For there the paper was, in his trembling hand.

  Loans that Inquisitor Franken had his men put liens upon. No doubt very dangerous men indeed, that any merchant or barrister would be terrified to cross.

  But his shieldsister was in danger, and Malek had no more time for games.

  Gazing at Teeson apologizing profusely for his inability to help a girl who had suffered such horror and abuse filled Malek with a seething rage.

  “Malek!”

  He blinked. Seeing his fist upon the trembling man's vest.

  Terrified eyes gazing into his own. Placating smile a rictus of terror. A frantic pounding on the reinforced door.

  Malek smiled back. Chill as the void between the stars.

  The man in his arms sobbed. “Please, my lord. Please, they will kill me!”

  “Who?”

  The man curled up within himself.

  Malek allowed the barrister to drop back in his seat.

  “I have a family. A family!”

  “His name is Lord Christoff.” Malek's voice was hard and cold. “He is in debt for one thousand five hundred gold crowns. More than he is worth, I'm sure. You were the man he took the loan from, no doubt assuring him that you would be an understanding lender if his venture failed, taking what payment he could manage over time. For the law holds that if a nobleman falls to debt, his creditors get nothing more than the dross he has left. His land and titles? It all goes back to the Crown. Thus it no doubt seemed a safe enough gamble for him to be in your purse, no?”

  The man blinked, shaking his head. "It is as you say, my lord. The law discourages obscene predation upon the noble class. Both from fellow lords, and most especially from well-to-do commoners such as myself. I swore to him, I would not ruin him. I have a son, after all. And Lord Christoff a beautiful daughter, clever as she is sweet. My boy is bright, and very resourceful. He will make a lucky girl a fine husband, one day. If worst came to worst, if our families were to have joined, I would have taken care of them. And as nobles, the whole world would be open to us." He laughed softly. "I knew Christoff had a bit of a gambling problem. He was relieved when I was so amicable about it, when his vice got the better of him, as it so often does, and by all the saints, it actually seemed a blessing. His daughter truly seems to favor my son. Johnathon has a fair wit and is pleasing to the eye, she had said, and I had smiled with pride and was just so pleased when Christoff invited my son to come calling upon them, Lord Christoff interested in my son's insights regarding other ventures he had embarked upon; profitable ones, fortunately, my Johnathon helping to make them even more profitable, small coin investments that they were. My son was even teaching his daughter the rudiments of trade."

  Teeson squeezed away a few quiet tears. "It would have been so good for both our clans. Why, I never even insisted on interest!" He sighed. "I truly think it would have been a love match. I would have been so happy for all of us, so long as dear Lord Christoff allowed me to handle the financial end of things, or, as his daughter put it, kept his bets in copper coin, and left the silver talons and gold crowns at home."

  “And what happened then, Barrister Teeson?” Apple asked, squeezing his hand in gentle sympathy.

  He smiled gratefully at her. “My lady, I am so very, very sorry. But poor Christoff's debt was claimed by an Agent of the Crown, of all things, the man making it quite clear that the lien he had brought on the loan was a Crown lien, and thus automatically held senior stake in his debts, and that I should expect the Crown to come calling for it with payment for the balance at any time.”

  Teeson grimaced. “He also made it very, very clear that I did not want to involve myself in affairs that were not my concern.”

  Malek took a deep breath, his anger fading, now feeling pity more than anything else for the man. He ignored the hammering at the door.

  “It is all right, Kilton. You are dismissed!” Teeson smiled apologetically at Malek even as the pounding faded to a brooding silence.

  Yet mixed with Malek's pity was a fierce resolve that would not be shaken, no matter the circumstances. Never taking his gaze off the trembling barrister, he pulled out but one purse he had secured under his armor, where no rogue could hope to steal it, having stopped at the Guild bank even as the Guildmaster had gazed at Malek with some surprise, yet saying nothing when Malek had demanded his coin in full, Apple looking increasingly uncomfortable, all but hiding against Malek's side when more than one bard had commended her for her brilliant interpretation of her sister's adventure, scribed so eloquently, worthy of the Guild itself.

  Malek had held her close. "She does not want to be Guild," he had said in the same quiet voice that he used even now, gently tossing the gold stuffed purse upon the table, the trembling barrister presently gazing at the purse with the same horror as he would a basket of serpents.

  "One thousand five hundred crowns. Count them once. Count them twice. Count them thrice. Then hand us bond and lien both, for they are ours, now."

  The barrister paled. “My lord, please! That man, I would fear for my family! Please understand, my lord, that no man without royal ties can purchase a debt burdened with a Crown lien in any case!”

  For some reason Malek's smile did nothing to reassure the terrified man. "I am not purchasing his debt for my own use. I am paying it off. In full. As every lord has a right to do for brethren that would otherwise be under the heel of the Crown. A check between king and Council enacted centuries ago."

  The barrister blinked, gazing at Malek in shock before nodding his head in defeat. “You are right, of course. But are you sure, my lord? This amount of gold is a fortune.” He laughed bitterly. “A fortune I myself was willing to lose, for a chance at nobility, at least for my son's sons. But you, my lord, why would you sacrifice so much? What could possibly be worth it?”

  Malek felt a hot burning in the pit of his gut. “To protect that which I love. And anything or anyone that gets in the way of that? I will destroy. Utterly.”

  Teeson shook his head. “I do understand. I do. But what about my own family?”

  “My dear Teeson, the answer to that is simple!” Apple assured. “You need but tell no one the nature of our conversation. As far as your house guard need be concerned, we were angry about being turned down for a loan, but came to our senses easily enough, and that was that. Call me Lady Grey, and this but my henchman.”

  Malek smiled coldly. "The game in play hardly concerns you, those final words said, I think, to terrify you more than anything else. But just in case, your best bet is to assist us with several other individuals who are perhaps in a situation identical to your own. The more factors we convince to sell us their debt, the more your risk is spread, our enemies looking increasingly foolish if they dare to strike out for less and less benefit."

  The man's lips pressed together in a grimace. “That does not assure me of my family's safety!”

  Malek held the man's angry gaze for some moments, until it had melted to naked fear once more. “You have your life. And know this: I shall be taking this document to assure that it meets all accepted standards of authenticity. If you have played me in any way, I promise you, you will find there are far worse enemies than rogue agents.”

  “Please, my lord! There, I have verified the document, marked the bond as paid in full in my accounts. Take my receipt, it has
my seal, my signature, and the writ is yours, marked paid in full! You have paid off the Crown and I both, as per a precedent over half a millennium old, may the angels above help us all!”

  Malek nodded, offhandedly sniffing the papers he was holding deeply. Old musk and bitter spice. He ignored Apple and barrister staring at him with equal expressions of confusion. He turned to the barrister. “Thank you. This helps more than you know. The agent, what can you tell me about him?”

  The man blinked and shook his head. “He was of average height, I suppose. Hair a dark brown, eyes of slightly lighter hue, his face one you see every day here at the capital.

  Malek smiled mirthlessly. “In other words, he would blend in anywhere.”

  The barrister shuddered. “But his voice. It was a killer's voice, if that makes any sense.”

  “I can imagine. Did he leave any card or letters of proof with you?”

  Slowly, the man shook his head. “No, my lord. Only the royal lien you have with you did he bring.”

  Malek nodded. "Thank you, barrister. You have been most helpful. And as to your family..." He gestured for a clean sheet of vellum, neatly splitting it into a number of pieces before writing several lines down upon each of them and passing one slip to the man before pocketing the others. "These are the apartments of someone who was once close to me. I kept them for sentimental reasons. Should you feel that it is best for you to leave the capital for a time, get your affairs in order and bring your family. I shall have a man waiting who will, I think, be able to bring you by ship to a rather comfortable retreat upriver, should such prove necessary.”

  The man shuddered with relief. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you.”

  Malek nodded solemnly. "Thank you as well, Barrister Teeson. I am sorry that the games in play have put innocents such as yourself in harm's way."

  He locked gazes with the barrister once more. "Make no mistake. I will see this game through. But so long as you do me no false turn, so long as you have a messenger leave word at that address, should our agent friend come... calling, I will do what I can to help you."

  Teeson bowed his head. “I understand, my lord.”

  3

  The scent of pine and cool winter air cleared Malek's nose of the stench of Teeson's fear. He eyed all the passersby with a quick, discerning gaze, but nothing looked or smelled off. If anything, it seemed that the steady traffic of well-dressed servitors and the occasional noble did their best to avoid Malek and Apple, their gazes always turned so as to never meet Malek's eye.

  Malek shook his head. So long as no one came at their backs or threatened his charge, he could accept that people no longer saw him as the charming young affable lord they once had. That was, until his father's bilious slander had poisoned so many in the Council against him. Not that he had ever cared. He had Jess, he had his fellow Squires, and the respect of the most renowned and ruthless general alive today. And now, with fellow Delvers to drink and explore all the wonders of dream and nightmare by his side, why the hell would he care what any number of puffed up popinjays thought?

  He smiled coldly at the next overly-dressed court functionary to rush by with such an air of self-importance, his lips curling just that much further upwards when the man trembled and stumbled upon nothing at all, turning back to flash Malek what seemed a ghastly smile of apology before hurrying on his way at a pace that threatened to abandon decorum entirely.

  Malek couldn't help it. He laughed, deciding he was pleased for his little bubble of calm in a sea of busybodies, merchant assistants, and lowly functionaries of one sort or another making their way along the admittedly beautiful boulevards of the capital, the shimmering white walls of any number of villas all elegantly joined together, tresses of rich ivory adorning the pristine stone. It was a beautiful sight, and the tree-lined boulevard helped to soothe his restless ire, for all that he wished he were striding quietly through the deepwood in truth.

  Apple turned to him, her gentle eyes peering curiously into his own. “I wonder, sometimes, if that's the chief appeal adventuring has for you and my sister both.”

  Malek blinked. "What is that, Apple?"

  “The ability to look like death incarnate, coming to collect his due.”

  “What?”

  Apple sighed. “The way you grinned at that poor man, like you were getting ready to draw your blade of icky doom and lop his head clean off.”

  Malek chuckled self-consciously. “I thought I hid it better than that.”

  Apple gave him an odd look. “Hardly, Malek. You project violence like a charging bull. Weren't you aware of the effect you had on poor Teeson?”

  Malek looked away, finding Apple's gentle gaze oddly discomfiting. “I gave him that address, didn't I? If he needs it.” He gave an angry shake of his head. “I don't want to hurt anyone, Apple. Except the people after our Jess. Those people? Well, let's just say it's best I say not a word of what I'd like to do to them, not till we are in a place far more private than this.”

  The girl walking so gamely by his side abruptly paled and shuddered.

  “Apple?”

  Apple gave a sad shake of her head. "It's okay, Malek. I know exactly what you would do to the people who are aiming for Jess. Not that I blame you. Were it not for you, I wouldn't even be here. Who knows? Maybe I would have already slashed my own throat by now."

  Malek abruptly held her close. He ignored her startled gasp. “Don't even joke about that, Appolonia. No matter what happens, I'll come for you. You're safe now.”

  She gazed up at him and Malek found himself breathless. Heart racing like he was about to face off against all the legions of Hell.

  “Apple?”

  Soft lips brushed against his own.

  Malek blinked, breathless.

  She squeezed his hand. “Come on, Malek. Let's find the next name on that list.”

  Suppressing a faint shudder of his own, infinitely careful with the precious girl who was trusting him to protect her so utterly, Malek focused upon the mission at hand, all his senses alert for any trouble. Of the odd scent he had detected upon the Crown lien facilitated by the supposed agent, he detected not a trace.

  Five more writ holders did they meet before dusk was at last upon them, two of them lords. Yet all of them reacted to Malek's presence and Appolonia's charm much had barrister Teeson, and only the last lord utterly refused to budge.

  "I don't care who you are!" said the sallow-faced man of middling years glaring daggers at Malek. "I have more than paid my blood tithe to the Guild, just so I would never have to deal with men like yourself, firsthand. So feel free to leave, Del Malek de Sousel, and rest assured, your reputation more than proceeds you."

  Malek felt himself flush at that, choking down a hot flash of humiliation.

  Lord Girighet had been the only one not affected by his presence, the only one not taken in by Appolonia's charm, his pair of fully armored knights never taking their eyes off of Malek, or their hands off their poleaxes since the moment Girighet had shouted them to his side. He glared at his visitors with hot contempt, as if Apple and Malek were servitors caught stealing the master's coin and due for a good thrashing, as opposed to honored guests, representatives of named lord and Guild alike.

  "Yes, I own Darskap's debts. I had gone to considerable effort to acquire them, and I am quite happy with their present location, secure in my vault box at the royal bank. And should you wish to break into that vault and cause outright war between the Crown and your precious Guild, by all means, I dare you to! It is more than time for you twisted abominations to be wiped from the face of Erovering, as far as I'm concerned!"

  He then sneered, showing teeth yellowed and crooked.

  “My lord, we mean no offense, we were merely interested in coming to an arrangement profitable to both our parties,” Apple had soothed.

  Girighet, surrounded by ostentatious splendor in his well-appointed study, flashed a smile as cold and void of pity as any gaoler lording it over the most depraved pit of m
isery imaginable.

  “I know what you want, girl. I will not insult our king by giving you any title, save that.”

  Apple paled and shook, her eyes grown haunted.

  Girighet gave a contemptuous shake of his head. “I suppose it's only fitting that one of your... heritage would stoop to cavorting with twisted mongrels such as Malek de Sousel, but the Guild does like to hire its pretty slatterns, and I suppose you do fit the bill, as did your mother before you. Now get the hell out of my house! Were it up to me, your entire foul clan would be exiled from Erovering entire!”

  Malek trembled with sudden rage as Girighet's hideously cruel words cut Apple to the quick. A hot spike of fury roared in his core.

  A howling wolf, desperate to break free.

  He would paint this study crimson with his hate for the loathsome man taking such pleasure in shaming the precious rose before him.

  He glared at the two armored knights gripping their poleaxes tightly, gazing back at him with such hate, for all that he could smell their fear. Their fear, and something else.

  Malek smiled then, feeling his heart start to race, a sweet, dark part of him reveling in the violence to come. Right or wrong no longer mattered. His wrath demanded retribution, swift and terrible.

  “Malek!” Alarmed panic.

  Malek blinked.

  Saw he had drawn his sword.

  The terrible blade shook in his tight grip, howling for blood.

  As did the wolf inside him.

  “Malek, stop it!”

  Apple, gazing at him in pale-faced panic.

  Malek shuddered and froze.

  Gazed at Girighet looking back at him with an expression equal parts loathing and horrified disbelief.

  “Malek, let's go!”

  Blinking as if in a daze, snarling once at the approaching pair of knights, Malek forced his trembling hand to resheathe his blade.

  "You're mad, you fool! Do you hear me? Mad! When the Guild hears about this, there will be hell to pay, Malek de Sousel! I shall put it before the Lords Council, see if I don't! We all know you're a bloodthirsty jackal!" Lord Girighet's vitriol washed over them the moment Malek resheathed his blade, having been for the brief seconds that Malek had been ready to embrace his darkest fury too speechless to do other than stare in horrified fascination.