Hero in the Shadows (15 page)

Matze Chai was aghast at the thought. He struggled to come to terms with what Waylander had offered. Already wealthy,
Matze Chai would become instantly the richest man in all of Chiatze. What would there be left to strive for?

“I cannot accept this,” he said. “You must reconsider.”

“You can always give it all away,” said Waylander. “But whatever you choose, I shall sail from this world and not return.”

“Are you truly that unhappy, my old friend?” asked Matze Chai.

“Will you do as I ask?”

Matze Chai sighed deeply. “I will,” he said.

Waylander rose, then smiled. “I will tell your servants to prepare your second pot of tisane,” he said. “They really should have brought it by now.”

“I am served by cretins,” admitted Matze Chai, “but then, if I did not employ them, their stupidity would see them starve in the streets.”

After Waylander had left, Matze Chai sat lost in thought. He had long ago ceased to be surprised by his fondness for his
Gajin
client. When Waylander had first come to him all those years ago, Matze Chai had been merely curious about the man. That curiosity had led him to engage the old seer. Matze had sat on the silken rug at the center of the temple’s inner sanctum and watched as the elderly priest cast the bones.

“Will this man be a danger to me?”

“Not if you do not betray him.”

“Is he evil?”

“All men carry evil within them, Matze Chai. The question is imprecise.”

“What, then, can you tell me of him?”

“He will never be content, for his deepest desire is unattainable. Yet he will become rich and make you rich. Is that enough for you, merchant?”

“What is this unattainable desire?”

“Deep in his heart, far below the level of conscious thought, he is desperate to save his family from terror and death. This
unconscious desire drives him on, forces him to seek out danger, to pit himself against the might of violent men.”

“Why is it unattainable?”

“His family is already dead, slain in a mindless orgy of lust and depravity.”

“Surely,” said Matze Chai, “he knows they are dead.”

“Of course. As I said, it is an unconscious desire. A part of his soul has never accepted that he was too late to save them.”

“But he will make me rich?”

“Oh, yes, Matze Chai. He will make you richer than you could ever dream possible. Be sure, however, that you recognize the riches when you have them.”

“I am sure that I will.”

The stooping servant Omri was waiting in the corridor outside Matze Chai’s apartments. As Waylander stepped out, Omri bowed briefly. “Lord Aric is waiting to see you, sir, along with the magicker Eldicar Manushan,” he said. “I have had refreshments served to them in the Oak Room.”

“I was expecting him,” said Waylander, his expression cold.

“I must say that he looks well. I believe he has dyed his hair.”

Together the two men walked back along the corridor and up two sets of stairs. “The bodies have been removed, sir. Emrin had them loaded onto a wagon and has driven it into Carlis. He will make a report to the watch officer, but I expect there will be an official inquiry. The incident is, I should imagine, the talk of Carlis. One of the young men was due to be wed next week. You even received an invitation to the ceremony.”

“I know. He and I spoke of it last night, but he was in no mood to listen.”

“A shocking incident,” said Omri. “Why did they do it? What did they have to gain?”

“
They
had nothing to gain. They were sent by Vanis.”

“That is disgraceful,” said Omri. “We must inform the watch officer. You should lay charges against him.”

“That will not be necessary,” said Waylander. “I do not doubt that Lord Aric has a plan to resolve the situation.”

“Ah, I see. A plan that no doubt involves money.”

“No doubt.”

They moved on in silence, emerging onto a wide arched hallway on the upper floor.

As they reached the doors of carved oak, Omri stepped back. “I have to say, sir,” he said in a low voice, “that I am not comfortable in the presence of this magicker. There is something about the man that I find disturbing.”

“You are a good judge of character, Omri. I shall bear that in mind.”

Waylander pushed open the doors and entered the Oak Room.

The room, paneled with oak, had been designed in the shape of an octagon. Rare weapons from many nations hung on the walls: a battle-ax and several hunting bows from Vagria, spears and curved scimitars from Ventria. Angostin broadswords, daggers, and shields vied with tulwars, lances, pikes, and several embossed crossbows. Four armor trees had been placed around the room, boasting ornate helms, breastplates, and shields. The furniture consisted of twelve deep chairs and three cushion-covered couches set on a scattering of Chiatze rugs of hand-dyed silk. The room was lit by sunlight streaming through the high arched east-facing windows.

Lord Aric was seated on a couch below the window, his booted feet resting on a low table. Opposite him was the magicker Eldicar Manushan, his blond page standing beside him. Neither man rose as Waylander entered, but Aric waved his hand and gave a broad smile. “Good morning, my friend,” he called out. “I am so glad you could find time to join us.”

“You are up early, Lord Aric,” said Waylander. “I have always
been led to believe it was considered uncivilized for a noble to rise before noon unless a hunt was in the offing.”

“Indeed so,” agreed Aric, “but then, we have pressing matters to discuss.”

Waylander sat down and stretched out his legs. The door opened, and Omri entered, bearing a tray on which was set a large silver pot of tisane and three cups. The men sat in silence as he filled the cups and then departed. Waylander sipped the brew. It was chamomile sweetened with mint and a little honey. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste on his tongue. Then he glanced at Aric. The slim noble was doing his best to appear at ease, but there was an underlying tension in the man. Transferring his gaze to the black-bearded magicker, Waylander saw no sign of unease. Eldicar Manushan was drinking his tisane quietly, apparently lost in thought. Waylander caught the eye of the little blond boy, who smiled nervously.

The silence grew, and Waylander made no attempt to disturb it.

“Last night was most unfortunate,” Aric said, at last. “The two boys were well liked, and neither of them had ever been in any kind of trouble.”

Waylander waited.

“Parellis—the blond boy—is … was … a second cousin to the duke. In fact, I understand the duke had agreed to stand alongside Parellis at his wedding. It is one of the reasons the duke decided to bring the Winter Court to Carlis. You see the complications that are beginning to arise.”

“No,” said Waylander.

Aric seemed momentarily bewildered. Then he forced a smile. “You have killed a relative of the ruler of Kydor.”

“I killed two assassins. Is this against the law in Carlis?”

“No, of course not, my friend. As to the first killing, there were hundreds of witnesses. No problems there. But the second … well,” he said, spreading his hands, “no one saw that.
It is my understanding that there was only one weapon: a ceremonial sword belonging to Parellis. This would indicate that you dispossessed him of that weapon and killed him with it. That being so, it could be argued that you killed an unarmed man, which, according to the law, is murder.”

“Well,” Waylander said easily, “the inquiry will establish the facts and then make a judgment. I will abide by that.”

“Would that it were so easy,” said Aric. “The duke is not a forgiving man. Had both boys been killed in the ballroom, I think even he would have been forced to accept the outcome. But I fear that the relatives of Parellis will seek to have you arrested.”

Waylander gave a thin smile. “Unless?”

“Ah, well, this is where I can help, my dear friend. As one of the leading nobles in House Kilraith and the chief magistrate of Carlis, I can mediate between the factions. I would suggest some reparation to the bereaved family, merely as a gesture of regret over the incident. Say … twenty thousand gold crowns to the mother of the boys and the canceling of the debts owed by their uncle, the grieving Vanis. In this way the matter will be solved before the arrival of the duke.”

“It touches me that you would go to such lengths on my behalf,” said Waylander. “I am most grateful.”

“Oh, think nothing of it. It is what friends are for.”

“Indeed. Well, let us make it thirty thousand gold crowns for the mother. I understand she has two other younger sons and that the family is not as wealthy as once they were.”

“And Vanis?”

“By all means let the debt be canceled,” said Waylander. “It was a piffling sum.” He rose and gave a bow to Aric. “And now, my friend, you must excuse me. Much as I enjoy your company, I have other pressing matters of my own to attend to.”

“Of course, of course,” said Aric, rising from his seat and
offering his hand. Waylander shook it, nodded to the magicker, then left the room.

As the door closed, Aric’s smile vanished. “Well, that was simply done,” he said coldly.

“You would have preferred it to be difficult?” Eldicar Manushan asked softly.

“I would have preferred to see him squirm a little. There is nothing quite so stomach-churning as a peasant with wealth. It offends me that I am forced to deal with him. In the old days he would have been dispossessed by his betters, his wealth used by those who understood the nature of power and its uses.”

“I can see how much it must grieve you,” said the magicker, “to come to this man and beg for scraps from his table.”

All color drained from Aric’s thin face. “How dare you?”

Eldicar laughed aloud. “Come, come, my friend, what else can it be called? Each year for the past five years this rich peasant has paid your gambling debts and the mortgage on your two estates, settled your tailor’s accounts, and enabled you to live in the style and manner of a noble. Did he do this of his own volition? Did he come running to your house and say, ‘My dear Aric, I have heard how fortune has fled you, so please allow me to pay all your debts’? No, he did not. You came to him.”

“I leased him land!” stormed Aric. “It was a business arrangement.”

“Aye, business. And all the moneys you have received since then? Including the five thousand crowns you requested last night?”

“This is intolerable! Beware, Eldicar. My patience is not limitless.”

“Neither is mine,” said Eldicar, his voice suddenly sibilant. “Shall I ask for the return of the gift
I
gave you?”

Aric blinked. His mouth opened. He sat down heavily.
“Oh, come now, Eldicar, there is no need for us to argue. I intended no disrespect.”

The magicker leaned forward. “Then remember this, Aric. You are mine. Mine to use, mine to reward, and mine to dispose of if I see fit. Tell me that you understand this.”

“I do. I do understand. I am sorry.”

“That is good. Now tell me what you observed during our meeting with the Gray Man.”

“Observed? What was there to observe? He came in, agreed to all my demands, and left.”

“He did not just agree,” said Eldicar. “He
raised
the sum.”

“I know that. The size of his fortune is a matter of legend. Money means little to him, obviously.”

“Do not underestimate this man,” said Eldicar.

“I do not understand that. I just plucked him like a chicken, and he offered no resistance.”

“The game is not over yet. You have just seen a man who can mask his anger brilliantly. His only slip was to show his contempt by raising the amount of the extortion. This Gray Man is formidable, and I am not yet ready to have him as an enemy. So when this game moves on, you will take no action.”

“Moves on?”

Eldicar Manushan gave a small smile. “Soon you will come to me with news, and we will speak of it again.” Eldicar pushed himself to his feet. “But for now I wish to explore this palace. I like it. It will suit me well.” Rising from his chair, he reached out, took the hand of his page, and walked from the room.

There were those who believed that fat Vanis the Merchant was incapable of regret. Always jovial, he would talk often of the stupidity of those who insisted on reliving past mistakes, worrying over them and examining them from every angle. “You cannot change the past,” he would say. “Learn from your mistakes and move on.”

Yet Vanis was forced to admit to himself a tiny feeling of regret—even sadness—at the deaths of his two stupid nephews. This was, of course, assuaged by the news from Aric that all his debts had been canceled and that an extra fortune in gold would soon be in the hands of his sister, Parla. The money would then be passed immediately to Vanis for investment, since Parla was even less intelligent than her departed children.

Thoughts of the gold and what he would do with it filled his mind, submerging the hint of sadness beneath a cascade of anticipated pleasures. Perhaps now he would be able to interest the courtesan Lalitia. For some reason she had rebuffed all his advances.

Vanis heaved his considerable bulk from the couch and wandered to the window, gazing down at the guards patrolling the walled perimeter of his house. Pushing open the window, he stepped out onto the balcony. The stars were bright in a clear sky, and a three-quarter moon hung just above the treetops. It was a fine night, warm but not cloying. Two guard dogs loped across the paved entrance path, disappearing into the undergrowth. Ferocious creatures, they made him shiver, and he hoped all the downstairs doors were locked. He had no wish to find one of the beasts padding along his corridors during the night.

The iron gates to his home were chained shut, and Vanis relaxed a little.

Despite his own philosophy, he found himself thinking back over the mistakes of the past months. He had taken the Gray Man lightly, believing he would not dare to push the matter of the debts. After all, Vanis was highly connected within House Kilraith, and the Gray Man, being a foreigner, needed all the friends he could find in order to operate his business interests in Carlis. The miscalculation had proved costly. Vanis should have guessed that matters would not be so easily resolved when the debts had been lodged with the
Merchants Guild, the promises of repayment written down and witnessed.