TST (46 page)

The party was not required to wait of course and the guardsmen swung open the doors to permit the privileged group access to Lady Mellina without hesitation.

Azerick tried to conceal the look of awe on his face as he entered the vast hall. Blue marble sheathed the walls, multiple glass skylights let in the afternoon sun, while magnificent tapestries, brilliantly polished swords and shields, and masterwork paintings adorned the walls. A long, emerald green carpet accented with gold trim ran from the door to the very steps of the dais upon which sat the thrones.

Azerick stifled a gasp as he espied the woman sitting in the right hand seat of power atop a seven-stepped dais. The woman was beautiful just like her daughter but there the similarity ended. Her hair was black and straight, as Miranda’s was a deep auburn and wavy. Miranda’s face was open, kind, and affable where her mother’s was stern, strictly composed, and shrewd. Azerick could tell this was a woman that commanded respect through shear presence alone.

As they approached the foot of the marble steps below the thrones, Captain Brague took a knee and knelt with his head bowed while Miranda bounded up the steps and wrapped her arms around her mother.

For a moment, Azerick thought that the frigid woman would not break decorum to return her own daughter’s display of affection in front of guests, but after a moment’s hesitation embraced her only child. For just a second, Azerick saw the motherly adoration the woman hid behind the steely mask of propriety. Miranda whispered something into her mother’s ear while casting a glance back to where Azerick and Captain Brague waited to be addressed.

Captain Brague turned his head up to look at Azerick and shot him a fierce glare indicating that he should kneel before Her Grace but Azerick refused to take the hint and simply bent at the waist as Lady Mellina made eye contact with him.

The duchess extracted herself from her daughter’s embrace and sat back down upon her throne. “Captain Brague, it has come to my understanding that you and your men ran into some trouble on the way back from Southport.”

The captain swallowed with difficulty before answering. “Yes, Your Grace. Approximately three days ride to the south, bandits set upon us. We were surprised, the coach was immediately disabled, and we were vastly outnumbered. Several of my men fell to crossbows before we were even able to engage. The rest gave their lives to my Lady’s defense.”

“I mourn the loss of your men and my loyal citizens and they will each be hailed as heroes. Submit their names to my seneschal so that we may compensate their families for their loss and medals passed on. Please take your place,” the Duchess commanded.

She turned her falcon-like gaze towards Azerick once more. “I understand it is you whom I have to thank for my daughter and captain’s timely rescue. Had it not been for you, my loyal captain would also have given his life in my daughter’s defense and she would likely be strapped down to the back of a horse riding to some filthy bandit camp where she would stay until I met with the cowardly scum’s ransom demand. Is that about the truth of it, Magus Azerick?”

Before he could answer, Captain Brague interrupted. “Your Grace, you should know that this man did not intervene until the bandits threatened him. Had he acted sooner, more of my men would likely be alive and had the bandits not made the critical error of attacking him the results would have been precisely as you just stated.”

“You are certain of this, Captain?” Lady Mellina asked coldly.

“Yes, Your Grace. He sat upon his horse watching the disaster unfold before his very eyes. It was not until the bandit leader told his men to kill him that he got off his horse and used his sorceries to slay many of the bandits that attacked us,” Captain Brague informed the Duchess, his voice heavily laced with scorn.

“You say he was mounted some distance away from the attack then
dismounted
when he heard the bandits ordered to kill him, am I correct?”

“That is precisely how it happened, Your Grace. The man is an opportunist at best, a coward at the least,” the captain replied smugly, flashing Azerick a condescending sneer of disdain and triumph.

“Were any of the bandits mounted?”

“No, Your Grace, they burst out from the tree line on foot.”

 Duchess Mellina crooked one well-manicured eyebrow at her captain. “So this man, an accused coward, got off his horse to fight a large group of bandits afoot instead of simply wheeling his mount about and fleeing the battle. Is my understanding correct, Captain?”

Captain Brague hummed and hawed for a moment but quickly realized where the Duchess was going with this line of questioning and knew that he had been cornered. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Captain Brague, you are a loyal and valuable member of my domain.” The soldier stood straighter if at all possible under his Lady’s praise. “However, diminishing the accomplishments or heroics of another is unseemly and ill becomes you. Men often require leadership and encouragement to act with honor and courage. If they did not, we would have little requirement for outstanding leaders like yourself. You should be grateful to the magus, for he has not only saved our beloved Lady Miranda, but also given you the opportunity to continue to serve us. I hope you take advantage of this opportunity he has provided you to learn and grow.”

Captain Brague fumed and wilted under his Lady’s admonishments but still managed to force out a reply. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Magus Azerick, despite the splendor you see about you, we are not a wealthy city but anything I am able to give you as a reward for the safe return of my daughter is yours for the asking.”

“Your Grace, I left Southport for North Haven some time ago in search of a new home. Even though events beyond my control delayed my arrival by some time, it would seem that such delays, though accidental, was fortunate or perhaps even destined to occur.” Azerick submitted. “I saw the ruined keep upon the hill a few miles from the city. I would be most grateful if you would grant me ownership of it and its accompanying land.”

Lady Miranda gasped at the request and even her mother’s impeccable calm cracked briefly at the request. Captain Brague looked surprised for a moment then smiled to himself hoping that maybe the upstart sorcerer would be killed or at least driven off by the very real ghosts that haunted the place.

The duchess quickly composed herself and addressed Azerick’s request. “Magus, I promised to reward you with anything that was in my power to give and I will honor that pledge, but I would ask you to reconsider your request. There are several fine homes and manors within the city of which I would gladly give you your pick. They are magnificent dwellings in the wealthiest part of the city.”

“That is very gracious of you, Your Grace, but it is the keep that I wish to possess,” Azerick stated adamantly.

“Are you aware of the keep’s history?” Duchess Mellina asked.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“The tales of the haunting and lives lost are quite real and are not some fictitious folklore of superstitious commoners. The lucky ones who have braved the ruins of the keep returned half mad and many did not return at all,” the duchess informed him ominously.

“I am aware of that, Your Grace, but that is still my request.” Azerick replied assuredly.

The Duchess allowed a small frown to show on her stoic face. “Very well, Magus, I will have my seneschal draw up the title. May Solarian bless you and watch over you.”

Azerick bowed at the waist once more as the duchess stood and departed the chamber through a smaller door to the rear of the dais. Lady Miranda glided gracefully down the steps and slipped an arm through Azerick’s before he had time to react.

“May I escort you out, Azerick?” she asked kindly but in a tone that implied his answer would be yes whether he wanted it or not.

“I suppose you would be better company than the captain,” Azerick replied drolly.

Miranda guided Azerick down the marble halls of the castle by a different route than they had taken coming in, taking nearly twice as long to reach the entrance. Miranda made a good tour guide, pointing out the portraits of her ancestors and who had built which halls and rooms and when as they walked through them. For some reason Azerick could not fathom, Miranda’s presence made him slightly nervous. It came as a sense of relief when they finally arrived at the doors leading out.

“Do you know where you will be staying?” Miranda asked.

“No, this is my first time in North Haven. I will find an inn somewhere and stay there until I deal with the keep,” Azerick responded.

 “Why did you choose such a dreadful reward? My mother would gladly give you a beautiful chateau or mansion here in the city.”

Azerick shook his head. “I want something that I can truly call my own. Somewhere set apart from everyone else. The keep will be what I make it, not what someone else has given me.”

“Do you truly wish to be apart from everyone else so badly?” Miranda asked sympathetically.

Azerick thought about the question for a moment and shrugged. “It is safer that way, less painful.”

“Safe, yes, but also dull. Some risks must be taken to find happiness or it really is not much of a life at all. You may survive but you will never truly live. Fare thee well, Magus, I look forward to speaking with again.”

Azerick gave her a nod and descended the broad granite steps that led down to courtyard where a groom stood waiting with Horse. Azerick put his foot in the stirrup and lifted himself into the saddle.

“Do you know a good inn to stay at?” Azerick asked, looking down at the lad.

“The Golden Glade is as nice an inn as you will find in the city, milord,” the young groom replied respectfully.

Azerick thanked the young man and flipped him a silver piece for his help.

“Thank you, milord!” the groom replied with a deep bow and scampered away.

Azerick guided Horse through the heavy gates set in the secondary wall that surrounded the palace grounds. The homes and few businesses that lined the streets this close to the palace were opulent affairs, two and three stories tall, built of white stone, and roofed with the same blue tiles as the palace. Somewhere along one of the many grand plazas is where Azerick would have had a home if had wished it. Instead, he was now the owner of a decrepit ruin allegedly haunted by a vengeful spirit. He began to wonder about his own sanity.

If I am already insane, can the ghosts still drive me mad?
Azerick wondered.

He asked a few people he passed for directions to the Golden Glade. They looked from his travel-worn clothing to his plain horse before pointing him in the general direction of the inn.

Probably figuring I am looking for a job not a room,
Azerick thought to himself.

The Golden Glade was located directly on the intersection that separated the wealthy quarter of the city and the merchant quarter where much of the middle class lived.

The sign was written in a flowing text and hung by a short chain below a painting of a golden waterfall cascading down into a golden pool of what was probably supposed to be beer or ale, surrounded by lush vegetation and grass. The paint was clean and fresh, probably touched up or repainted frequently to maintain the quality of the sign.

Around the back of the inn was a large, clean stable with three stablehands ready to take good care of the customer’s horses. Azerick guided Horse through the gates that were now open but kept shut at night for security.

The three stablehands watched as Azerick approached and conversed amongst themselves, probably deciding who was going to service the pauper and his worn-looking mount. They pushed the youngest boy forward, most likely the one that always took the customers that looked least likely to tip.

Despite having drawn the proverbial short straw, the lad bounded forward enthusiastically. “Take your horse, sir?”

Azerick dismounted and handed the towheaded boy Horse’s reins. “Yes, thank you.”