The Nightstone (18 page)
Authors: Wil Ogden
“Murdread has twenty-four demons of significant rank down in the King’s Courtyard,” Kirvel said to Lady Glacia.
This time they were meeting in the basement of an abandoned part of Demia.
A place where the lava pools encroaching made the surroundings uninhabitable.
She didn’t want to risk exposing her best spy in Murdread’s service. Two of her biggest guards stood beside Glacia, fully covered in black steel armor and each carrying very large axes.
Only twenty-four?
Glacia pondered. She never thought Murdread was a serious threat, but only twenty-four?
“I thought better of you, Kirvel,” she said.
“I am performing my duties and no one believes for an instant my loyalties lie elsewhere,” Kirvel said.
“If you were performing your duties well, I wouldn’t be surprised by how small Murdread’s force is.
A hundred or so demonlings and only two dozen of significance?
I should have been aware of those numbers long ago,” she said.
“Are you worried he will not have enough to fulfill your needs of his plans?” Kirvel asked.
“Your little mind is not capable of understanding my plans,” Glacia said. “Don’t be presumptuous enough to think I will explain anything I don’t want you to know. The intricacies of my plans are mine to know. Your duty, for which I have been rewarding you handsomely, is to accomplish the little tasks I assign you.”
“I just thought we were happy with Murdread succeeding,” Kirvel said.
Glacia reached out and took large axe from one of her guards. She spun the axe around in one hand, rolling the haft over the back of her hand a couple times, just for show. Sometimes the lesser demons required a show of physical strength, and her human-like feminine body belied her strength. When the weapon stopped spinning the axe blade rested against Kirvel’s neck.
“This is the second time I’ve had to remind you of your station,” Glacia said, speaking in a firm voice. “I almost never have to resort to threats to keep my loyal followers in line. If your rewards are insufficient to temper your curiosity, perhaps we need to re-evaluate our arrangement.”
Kirvel croaked, “I’m actually perfectly happy with the current arrangement. Don’t ask questions, I get that now. You won’t hear another question from me other than ‘What can I do to serve you, milady?’”
“Since you asked,” Glacia said as pulled the axe away and tossed it to the guard. She again used her usual seductive honey voice, “I need the name of Darien’s mortal. The one he is going to use in the final phases of his plans.”
“I’ll get that for you, milady,” Kirvel said. He bowed, took a step away, bowed again, and then scurried off.
The demonling’s value was quickly diminishing in Glacia’s eyes. She’d expected ambition when she’d recruited him. She’d underestimated not only his curiosity, but his ability to comprehend her complex manipulations. He’d been wrong in his assessments, but someday he might not be. She was sure his time in her service was coming to an end. She pondered what kind of end would be appropriate for Kirvel.
The white spires of Melnith were a welcome sight a few days after they’d met up with Bryan. Pantros had missed Bryan, but two days of hearing his tales of surviving the Wylde Woodlands were more than enough to reacquaint him with his friend. It took them another day to reach the city. Several spires reached all the way into the clouds. Sheillene told him the entire city had been built with magic. The marble was shaped and sometimes even grown using magic.
If the stories were true, Melnith was over fifty thousand years old and it wasn’t the oldest of the Abvi cities.
“The main tower at the Sorcery College is almost a league tall,” Sheillene said. “They say the top levels can sway a hundred paces in the wind. Odd that they say it, since, being sorcerers, master of the element of air, they can control wind.”
“My baby sister is a teacher at the Sorcery College,” Thomas said.
“How?”
Sheillene asked.
Thomas shrugged. “Well, she went there, learned for a while, and now she teaches.”
“No,” Sheillene said. “I mean if you’re a hundred and thirty, and she’s your baby sister, and the Sorcerers don’t take Abvi students prior to a hundred and twenty-five, what you tell me is not possible. Is she not also Abvi?”
“She’s pure Abvi, but they took her when she was twenty five,” Thomas said. “She’d already taught herself basic Sorcery from a book. They take humans at twenty; it wasn’t that much of a stretch to take an Abvi that young. We mature as fast as humans, we just live forever and get far more mature.” Thomas’s eyes darted to the various humans in the carriage. No one reacted.
“We’re quite the crowd,” Tara said. “We have the King of Thieves, The Greatest Bard ever, a General who has yet to see twenty two summers, and you, Sheillene, who, as I understand it is not only the greatest archer alive, but you were born with an innate ability to play any instrument.”
“I only play strings,” Sheillene said. “I tried a flute once and a cat attacked me to make me stop. I took the hint and never touched one again.”
“Well we can’t be a collection of the greatest,” Norda said. “I’d never claim to be the best Knight, and which of Tara or Faren would be the best innkeeper? And unless biggest means best, I don’t know how to classify Marc.”
“Humility is the trait of a great knight,” Sheillene said.
“He’s the best knight I’ve known,” Tara said. “But we don’t get many knights or any knights in Ignea. Still, I’m a bit scared. What if this is something big that’s happening and fate is bringing us all together?”
“It’s not fate,” Sheillene said. “Thomas, the older Thomas, is behind much of this. And without trying to be mean, this Thomas is good, but it was the older Thomas who is the greatest bard ever, this one is not quite at that level yet.”
“And I’m retired,” Pantros said. He had been thinking about how to maintain his profession after the journey. His last theft had been such a mistake that he seriously questioned if he could rationalize the morality of burglary anymore. “I’m just going to go build my castle and enjoy the view, even if it’s on a scrap of land no one cares about.”
“It is looking less and less like I’m an innkeeper anymore,” Tara said. “It’s not like I can go back to living in Ignea if I’m going to be alone there.”
“I’m with you wherever you go,” Thomas said.
“Ignea is the absolute worst place for a bard to base from,” Tara said. “You need somewhere more central to the trade routes. Sheillene is based out of the Rampant Gelding so she can travel pretty much anywhere and everywhere.”
“So I’ll buy you an inn in Fork,” Thomas said.
“You’re poor,” Tara said.
“I won’t always be,” Thomas said. “There’s another me running around who is much older than me, he’s probably made a few pennies in his long and strange life. When I’m that Thomas, I’ll use my money to buy you an inn. If I remember to, I already did. Well, the other
me
already did, if he remembered. There was an old building between the Rampant Gelding and the west gate that looked like it might have been an inn at some point. I bought that for you.”
“You did?” Tara asked.
“Well not me, but the other me.” Thomas shrugged. “If I remembered, and it doesn’t sound like I’m the forgetful type.”
Pantros tried to blink away his confusion. His sister seemed accustomed to the idea of two Thomases.
“I liked my staff, James and Bouncer and even Dale, though he ate and drank more than I paid him. At least his consumption was predictable,” Tara said.
“We can send for them,” Thomas said. “It’s not like they have to take the dangerous overland route.”
“Couldn’t you arrange all this in your future so that we can avoid all the hassles and just move away when my parents died?” Tara asked.
“And let my older self be the one who gets to be married to you?” Thomas said. “I think things are how they are for a reason.”
“That sounds like the wine talking.” Tara tapped a bottle sitting on the seat beside Thomas.
“To me it sounds like I haven’t been drinking enough,” Thomas said. “Shall we discuss potential names for your new inn?”
§
At the gates to Melnith, a guard urged them to bypass the lines of people waiting to gain entry to the city. Once to the gates, the guards saluted and let them pass.
“I guess being in a royal family’s carriage has benefits?” Pantros asked.
“I’ll say,” Sheillene said. “From the looks of it, that line looks like it could take almost a day to get everyone through the gates.”
Looking out the window he could see the streets were packed with people and farm animals. Unlike Fork, most of the people in Melnith didn’t look like they were going anywhere. “And then where would they go?” Pantros asked.
“Where exactly are we going?” Faren asked. He was inside the carriage, resting while David drove. “I have an uncle with an Inn in the River Quarter. That’s where I was planning to go.”
“We have a missive for Prince Reginald of Relarch,” Sheillene said. “He’ll be at the palace, so that’s where we’re going first. I don’t think it’s much of a walk from the palace to the River Quarter, and with the streets this crowded, you can move faster on foot than in a carriage.”
Faren nodded, “And you need to get that cursed stone to somewhere safe.”
“We’d been hoping to get to Vehlos,” Pantros said. “That trip seems unlikely from here. Maybe we can get help from the King here. Surely Reginald could help us get to talk to King…um, I don’t know the Abvi king’s name.”
“Allaind,” Sheillene said.
“King Allaind of Melnith.
He has two children, Prince Aven the First Tempest and Princess Adria, whom I’ve met frequently in the city’s Hunter’s Guildhall.”
“The Princess is a bounty hunter?” Pantros asked.
“She’s an archer, she won the Silver Vanes the year I didn’t enter,” Sheillene said. “She hunts animals and such, but I don’t think she’s ever claimed a bounty. I don’t think she’s a master in the guild.”
“And Prince Aven is the First Tempest? Could he help with the gem?” Pantros asked.
“He might be able to, he’s about as powerful as Tempests get,” Sheillene said. “They are not usually as studied in artifacts as the Mages are, though. The Sorcerers might be able to help. With Thomas’s sister there, we might be able to talk to someone important. They should at least be able to point to someone else in the city.”
Marc asked, “What if the Vulak aren’t just raiding, what if they’re after the gem?”
“A whole army of Vulak?”
Pantros said. “They couldn’t be after this.” He patted his pocket. “Could they?”
“I’m going to have to hop out and check on something,” Sheillene said. “Pan, I trust you with my pack. My lute is in there so don’t lose it or break it.” She grabbed her bow and hopped out of the carriage, which was still moving slower than the people on the streets were walking.
“Wasn’t she our ticket into the palace?” Marc asked.
“I think the carriage will be sufficient to get us in,” Pantros said. “David should be able to get us close to Reginald, and if needed, he can get us an audience with King Allaind, I’m sure. I doubt it will come to that. I expect Sheillene to be back by the time we reach the palace.”
§
Banners of a golden starburst on a blue background flew over the palace. Guards stood spaced sparsely along the top of the walls and several stood in front of the gates. Sheillene did return to the carriage as they approached the palace gates. “Bad news,” Sheillene said. “According to the Hunter’s Guild, the Vulak are converging on Melnith and looking specifically for the Nightstone.
Something about a tribute their new god, Redevul.”
“Red devil?”
Pantros asked.
“Close enough,” Sheillene said. “It seems that gem of yours is causing problems.”
“Should we give it to the Vulak?” Pantros asked. He didn’t think it sounded like a good idea to do so, but he hated the idea of being responsible for a whole nation being overrun by Vulak.
“Most certainly not,” Sheillene said. “The hint in their new god’s name is just not subtle and we already know what will happen if a demon gets his claws on that stone. A Vulak invasion would be a gentle breeze compared to the cyclone of a demonic invasion.”
“We’re here,” David called from the driver’s seat.
Pantros leaned out the window. Half a dozen guards approached the carriage and the palace gates were closed. “Why aren’t they opening the gates?” Pantros asked.
“Entry to the Palace is by invitation only until the crisis passes,” the guard closest to Pantros answered. The armor the guard was wearing was trimmed in gold, unlike the armor of the other guards.
“We’re here on official kingdom business,” Pantros said.
The guard approached the window. “That’s the same thing the last thousand people I turned away said. Unless you have King Reginald in there, you are not coming through.”
Sheillene stepped out of the carriage and approached the guard. “Captain Ghovan, I bear a missive from Prince Estephan to his brother. I am charged with delivering it, in person.”
“Sheillene, it’s good to see you again,” Ghovan said. “I can let you in, but your associates will not be allowed to enter.”
“The people in the carriage include a Knight of Relarch, Thomas Boncanta and a king.” Pantros heard Sheillene whisper, “of sorts.”
After the royal title.
“King?”
The guard asked. “Which king?”
Sheillene gestured to Pantros, “This is The King of Legerdemain.”
The guard’s looked at Pantros a moment then bowed, “Your Highness, my apologies.” He stepped away from the carriage and motioned to the guards by the gate. They pulled the gates open. “Welcome to Melnith, Your Highness, I hope you enjoy our hospitality.”
Pantros nodded, trying not to look surprised.
After they passed through the gates, Pantros asked Sheillene, “Legerdemain? Where is that? I don’t mind lying, but I should know more if I’m to play a role.”
“It’s not a where, but like you, the Guard didn’t seem to know that,” Sheillene said. “Legerdemain is the art of the pickpocket; it means sleight-of-hand. You are recognized as the King of Thieves; so really, there wasn’t a lie, just a juxtaposition of a title of nobility for one of recognition.”