Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (5 page)

A servant stepped into the room and rang a
small chime; the sound was high and clear as it resounded about the
Hall.

Lord Jatar stepped clear of the group
to
which he had been speaking and
addressed everyone present.

“I would like to welcome you all to
Lindankar's Palace for the recognition ceremony for my son Michael,
and I’d like to thank you for coming to the pre-celebration dinner
in his honor. If you will all stand by your seat at the table I
will propose the traditional toast.”

Lord Jatar escorted Lady Elizabeth to the
opposite end of the table and returned to stand behind his
seat.

Elizabeth concentrated, and without the
guests knowing she began to view their auras. She had decided to
use the upcoming declaration of good will to find out which leaders
or ambassadors bore ill will toward her husband and Lindankar.

Taking hold of his goblet from the table
before him Jatar held it forth and spoke the words this traditional
ceremony required. “I welcome you to this repast on the eve of my
son Michael’s official designation as heir to the throne of
Lindankar. May everyone at this table
be
treated as equals and let no one fear for their life
or soul.”

The majority of those assembled at the table
intoned the traditional response: “And may
you, in turn,
be safe.”

“Let all who are present now speak their
feelings on the legitimacy and acceptability of the
heir
without fear of reprisals,” Jatar continued
in his formal tone.

As tradition called for, most of them
replied: “We find him legitimate and acceptable.”

“On my behalf and that of my son and his
mother, we thank you,” Jatar answered and raised his glass before
calling out in a clear strong voice, “to Michael!” Then Lord Jatar
drank to his son with all the assembly
following
suit.

As Elizabeth drank to her son she pondered
the aura of Lord Tysol of Datoria. As the rest had made the
traditional responses his aura patterns had proclaimed his
falsehood, especially during the promise of Jatar’s safety. She
decided he would bear closer watching and resolved to speak to
Jatar of the danger as soon as possible.

On the other hand,
she thought,
we
knew he opposed us, so it may only be those feelings showing
through. It’s unlikely that he’ll attempt anything sinister within
our palace.
She also wondered about the Tchulian merc, Harland
Von Dracek; he had full aura shields up which completely hid his
aura reactions from her special sight. It was possible that he had
natural shields, a few people did, but he would bear watching as
well; there was something odd about this Tchulian officer.

With the traditional response complete Jatar
spoke in a less formal tone, “Now fair ladies and gentle sirs, we
hope you will enjoy the breaking of your fast as our guests, please
be seated.”

The large staff of kitchen servants filed
out in a line and all were dressed in Ardellen white and gold tunic
and pants. They each carried a steaming bowl of aromatic
driken
soup as the first course of
the evening.

A guest seated two chairs to the left of
Jatar proclaimed loud enough for the Lord of Amak-Ta-Dol to hear,
“It seems that Amak-Ta-Dol gets its soup before Olsk, just as it
gets
first
choice in trade goods.
Did they bribe your cooks as well as your merchants, Jatar?”

Jatar did a mental sigh as he resigned
himself to an evening of battling and refereeing with these two
long-time
rivals. Jatar
interjected a quick statement before the Lord of Amak-Ta-Dol could
get up a good steam for his reply. “We try and give equal choice to
both of your nations.”

Then the three of them were off into a
discussion
of trade. Meanwhile,
down the
table,
another
conversation was taking place.

Lady Margret, wife of Lord Brik Rinholt, the
ruler of Pruta, was seated three chairs down on Elizabeth’s left
and she proclaimed, “This soup has an exquisite flavor!” the
middle-aged
woman exclaimed after
taking her first taste of the soup. “Lady Ardellen, if I remember
correctly,
driken
soup is made
from a root found only in your northern mountain heights.”

Elizabeth smiled politely toward Lady
Margret and replied, “You are indeed correct; it is considered a
delicacy in Lindankar.”

“Is it true that hordes of the
souldead
roam those mountain peaks?” Lady
Margret asked with a shudder.

“No, the numbers of the
souldead
are often exaggerated. They are not
often seen anymore as many have been hunted down and dispatched,
however,
the danger from the
remaining
souldead
is the reason
that driken soup is considered a rare delicacy.”

“If the
souldead
have been hunted, it follows that the survivors
must be the meanest, smartest and toughest of the gruesome bunch,”
interjected Lord Brik.

“Undoubtedly true, though I have never
encountered one myself, so I cannot speak from experience,” replied
Elizabeth politely.

Lord Tysol was seated midway down the table
on Elizabeth’s right and he now spoke harshly, “Of course not,
hunting is a man’s sport and the weaker sex should leave it to
those more suited to the pursuit.”

Elizabeth was instantly on alert, prompted
by her aura observation of Lord Tysol’s falsehood earlier. The
sorceress considered her response:
What is his game behind this
obvious insult
of
women? Is he trying to anger me?
She decided not to let him
succeed, so she raised her eyebrows as if in surprise and asked,
“Why do you believe that, milord? Do you refer to the obvious
physical difference between the sexes?”

“Women are certainly inferior to men
physically,
however,
I also refer
to the temperament of women; they are not suited for a
straightforward, open and honest battle. Confronted with the
Desecrator’s souldead a woman would probably cower behind the
protection of a man,” Lord Tysol proclaimed.

Elizabeth read his surface thoughts and
watched his shifting aura colors to see the true meaning behind his
words. She knew he was trying to insult her, and wondered if he was
really the simple sexist his words proclaimed, but she could see he
believed what he said was the truth. “So, you think women are
dishonest cowards?” Elizabeth probed.

“Those are not precisely the words I said,”
responded Lord Tysol, though in his surface thoughts Elizabeth read
that he agreed with her words completely. The fiery colors of his
aura changed their patterns as he lied.

Elizabeth frowned at him slightly as she
replied, “Perhaps not precisely, but I was close enough. This
interests me... so let’s examine your two accusations one at a
time. Do you think that a woman’s meek temperament is a product of
her environment, or do you think women are inherently cowards?”
Elizabeth inquired curiously.

“I think it is in a woman’s nature to be
outwardly timid,” he replied in a light flippant
tone
as if speaking to a simpleton.

“Outwardly?” Elizabeth prompted
casually.

“Yes, confronted with an open battle a
female will outwardly act timid to finagle some poor male into
putting themselves at risk to protect her feigned frailty.”

Elizabeth caught something in his mind about
Jatar, but it was too fragmented to be completely coherent. Her
attention was suddenly drawn to the patterns of his aura and what
she read as courage suddenly flared up in brighter colors. That was
extremely odd, almost as if some outside force was bolstering his
confidence.

Tysol didn’t notice her deepening frown and
continued speaking. “A man will come at a problem
honestly
while it’s a woman’s way to use a
convoluted path, a manipulative approach versus a straightforward
solution. Women use their reputation of soft helpless timidity to
trick naive men into protecting them; it disgusts me.”

“I see, and that’s where the dishonest part
comes in, right? Women trick men into things, instead of doing them
for themselves. Do I have all this correct?”

“You have an amazingly good grasp of the
idea for having just heard it,” Lord Tysol replied, his voice
rising and taking on an insulting tone.

Jatar had been listening in to the last part
of their conversation along with most of the table. When Tysol
barked his obvious insult at Elizabeth, Jatar decided that it was
time
he put a stop to the man.
“Tysol, I will not put up with your insults of my wife, now
apologize for insinuating that she is being dishonest and
manipulative.”

Tysol’s aura patterns flared up again with
more courage and Elizabeth suddenly picked up the clear passage of
a thought flowing across Tysol’s conscious mind.
At last,
she read Tysol’s true aim clearly; he
was using his arguments about women’s dishonest natures to bait
Jatar into protecting his wife’s honor! And with courage flaring in
his
aura,
it was simple for him to
overcome any fear. Elizabeth tried to stand up and put a stop to
what was happening, but she was too late.

Standing up just before Elizabeth, Lord
Tysol faced Jatar disdainfully and barked, “Normally I wouldn’t
think a man such as you could be manipulated by a woman, but not
all women have the same abilities; these Kirnath monsters have
powers of deception far beyond that of normal women.”

Jatar
leaped
to his feet knocking over his chair. He was angry
and quite shocked that Tysol would so openly insult his wife.

Elizabeth tried to interject something from
the other end of the table, but Jatar spoke over her in his anger.
“You will depart these premises immediately and were it not for the
traditional promises of your safety at this table I would call you
out now.”

“Her womanly cowardice is rubbing off on you
Jatar, you are afraid to face me in a duel, so you use this excuse
to avoid honorable battle.
Well,
I
release you from the traditional host protection,” and then Lord
Tysol pulled his dagger from his belt and slammed it point first
into the table.

Jatar’s eyes narrowed with grim anticipation
as he headed for Tysol and said in a low calm voice that hid his
anger well, “Then according to the rules of the Duel we shall meet
before the day is done, at ten before the twelfth bell. May your
soul find its way to the Dark Plane,” Jatar added and punctuated
his sentence by slamming his dagger into the table next to Tysol’s,
thereby officially accepting the challenge.

Tysol plucked his dagger from the table and
spun on his heel to stalk out of the room.

Lord Jatar pulled his dagger out as well,
and after a moment to gather in the reins of his anger, he
addressed the rest of his shocked guests, “I would like to
apologize for this outburst, please continue with your dinners.” He
then turned and caught the eye of a kitchen servant to signal that
the next course should be brought to the table. Once everything
seemed in order he added, “Please excuse me, I must go and
prepare.”

During her husband’s
speech,
Elizabeth sat back in her chair, stunned. Too
late she realized that Lord Tysol had maneuvered her and the
conversation to get Jatar into this duel. He had done it with the
skill of a master tactician. As the host of the dinner Jatar would
have been prepared to accept veiled insults with outward calm in an
attempt to keep peace at this dinner to honor his
son;
however, by insulting his wife Tysol made
Jatar angry enough to react to the personal insult without
thought.

As she stood to follow Jatar out of the
Banquet Hall Elizabeth replayed her conversation with Tysol through
her mind, but she still could not believe he had the brains capable
of maneuvering them so easily.

From across the table Major Harland Von
Dracek, one of the three conspirators and the real master
tactician, smiled with satisfaction. With only the final scene to
be acted out, the result of a year’s hard work would be
accomplished. The following day would see the conspirator’s plan
fulfilled.

Jatar was pacing back and forth in the
sitting room while Elizabeth sat with her arms crossed deep in
thought. She shook her head sadly and said, “I feel so stupid, I
was reading his surface thoughts and I still didn’t see this coming
in time to warn you! A fine Sorceress I turned out to be.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, as I
understand it you can only read a person’s thought just before they
speak or act. I was the one who jumped in with my ego, at least you
were trying to find out what he was up to,” Jatar answered,
disgusted with himself.

Elizabeth continued to stare sightlessly and
then said, “I should have been able to handle him, but I just
couldn’t figure out what he was trying to accomplish. He obviously
orchestrated the whole thing, that’s easy to see in retrospect.
What I
don't
understand is why he
wanted to face you in a duel? Barring an accident you’ll tear him
apart.”

“I don’t understand that either. I could see
him plotting a sneaky and underhanded maneuver to undermine my
reputation with the other Lords, but I would have thought him too
cowardly to actively seek out a duel. Something is giving him
enough confidence to challenge a swordsman with a fairly skillful
reputation,” Jatar replied in a puzzled tone as he continued to
pace about the room.

“That’s what worries me,” Elizabeth
responded in a quiet voice. “You understate your abilities with the
sword, and your reputation. There is something treacherous going on
here, but I can’t quite put my aura on it. At the dinner I saw
something odd in
Tysol's
patterns,
courage suddenly expanded just as he challenged you to the duel.
Not only
that
but as Tysol
departed I clearly caught one of his thoughts; he believes he can
kill you."