Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (38 page)

Reaylin opened her mouth to protest, but at his stern look,
clamped it shut. “Yes, my lord,” the young woman replied. Tieran was surprised
by the young woman’s sudden compliance and formal reply.

“Tieran, if you would oblige, I could use your help with
Pride. He, too, is unwell, and he refuses to settle. If you could convince him
to lay down and be calm, he will be less likely to get injured.”

Rezkin’s point was punctuated when everyone had to grab onto
the table to prevent themselves from sliding across the floor and crashing into
the far wall. Luckily, the table was bolted in place. Heavy ropes had been
woven through the backs of the chairs and tied at each end to the walls. The
chairs could no longer topple over, but it did not stop people from falling out
of them.

“I see your point, Rezkin, but I will warn you that I am not
skilled with animals. If you were asking me to do something with a plant, I
would be more useful,” Tieran mumbled.

“You are a life mage who is not skilled with animals?”
Rezkin asked with surprise.

Tieran shrugged and said, “It has something to do with my power
ratio. Plants – great! Animals – not so much. And, pretty much no
healing. See? I am a worthless mage, like my father said.”

“Unless there is a drought,” Rezkin interjected.

“Yes, well, there is that,” Tieran admitted.

“Or the forest burns down,” Rezkin added.

Tieran nodded in agreement but said nothing as he rose to
his feet, swaying with the motion of the ship and gipping the walls as often as
possible.

“Or I am in need of an impromptu bridge across a chasm,” the
warrior added as the two headed to the stalls. The conversation paused as they
crossed the stormy deck. Once they entered the stalls and were again protected
from the rain and wind, Rezkin continued, “Or I need to cross a bog...or build
a shelter in the top of a tree…or I am traveling and have nothing to feed my
horse.”

“Okay, okay, I am not
completely
useless,” Tieran
conceded. “But I am heir to the dukedom. When am I going to need any of those
skills?”

“Perhaps you will need to aid the subjects of your duchy,”
Rezkin answered.

“I
could
,” Tieran said, “but that is what the mages
are for. If I do the work myself, how will they earn a living? They depend on
commissions from such work.”

“True, but you never know when there will be an emergency.
Besides, when does your father really
need
to use his powers? He is the
duke. He could have mages do everything for him. Perhaps simply knowing you
could
perform a miracle is enough,” Rezkin argued. “I am certain you could at least
design an attractive garden for your future wife,” he added. “I hear they appreciate
such things. I believe it would be considered a romantic gesture.”

“You are giving me relationship advice, now?” Tieran
laughed. “I do not even have an intended, and you are already planning gifts
for my wife.”

Rezkin shrugged. “You are of marrying age, even if most men
of your status wait a few more years. You may find a woman to bear your heirs
soon enough.”

“Now you sound like my father,” Tieran complained. “He has
been talking for the past two years about which woman would make a good mother
for my heirs. It seems he is unsatisfied with the young ladies from the
peerage. I think he is considering a mage. He seems to think a mage would make
a better queen should I inherit the throne. Mages are well educated and
experienced, in addition to the benefits of replenishing the talent in the
bloodline. He was very disappointed with my show of talent, or lack-there-of.
Anyway, he says a noble lady will bring little to the table since most of them
are flighty and disinterested in politics.”

“What do
you
think?” Rezkin inquired.

“I-…I do not know. I guess I envy you that, Rez. I rather
like the idea of meeting a woman and falling in love. Creating a marriage
contract based on mage power and education or influence is just so impersonal.”
The young noble frowned and shook his head as he said, “I rather dread my
father choosing a bride for me. I do not believe he will take into
consideration whether or not I actually
like
the woman.”

“I would not accept such a situation,” Rezkin remarked.

“No, I suppose you would not. You are determined and
independent. How did you choose Frisha, anyway? She seems far below your
station, even if she is the general’s heir,” Tieran commented.

Rezkin furrowed his brow and said, “When I met her, I was
not even considering marriage contracts. She turned out to be my friend, which
was working out well. She is a good friend. She is loyal and honest and
courageous for one who has little chance of protecting or supporting herself.
After I found out why she was going to Kaibain, I realized that if I did not
claim her, I would lose her, a thought that greatly disturbed me. I decided she
would make an ideal wife.”

“Why is that?” Tieran asked.

“Aside from the characteristics I already mentioned? She is
strong, healthy, and of perfect shape for bearing heirs. Most importantly, I
trust her not to poison my food or stab me in my sleep,” the warrior answered
truthfully.

“Ha, ha! That is such a concern for you, then?” Tieran
chuckled.

“It happens more often than you would think,” Rezkin
replied.

“That is disturbing. I understand what you are saying,
though. It would be good to be able to fully trust my wife. Father has always
kept Mother at a distance. Unlike some Houses, he has never involved her in
House business. I do not think he has ever really trusted her, but neither do I
think he ever attempted to foster the feeling. I suppose with
your…loyalties…trust would be a particularly important commodity.”

“How do you feel about my loyalties, Tieran?” Rezkin asked.

Tieran inhaled and released a heavy breath. “Truthfully, I
do not know what to think. A couple of weeks ago, I gave the throne little
thought. Actually, I was in complete avoidance of the topic. My friends, if you
could call them such, do not care for talk of politics. We were only concerned with
finding the next source of entertainment, which, as you know, was not always
wholesome. I know Caydean, and I know how he treated Thresson and even me when
I visited. I know him more as a man than I do as a king.

“I expect these words never to be passed on, Rezkin. Caydean
is not a good man. He has an innate cruelty the likes of which I have never
heard tell. It would disturb me were it any other man, but it positively
terrifies me in the king. He
enjoys
witnessing and inflicting suffering
upon others. Caydean is like one of the insane that revel in the excitement of
setting things aflame. I can imagine a scenario in which Caydean intentionally
wreaks havoc on this kingdom just to see it burn. He has no concern for the
welfare of the kingdom or for the honor and dignity of his family or the
throne.”

Tieran shook his head and sighed as his eyes stared out the
doorway into the rain. “I cannot blame you, Rezkin. Honestly, if I knew more of
the man you call king, I would probably join him as well,” Tieran finished.

“You would swear fealty to him?” Rezkin asked.

“When I came of age, my father took me to court. I knelt
before Caydean and swore fealty to the King of Ashai. The oath did not mention Caydean,
specifically. If what you said is true, and this man is the rightful king, then
I have already sworn fealty to him. It is a fact I recognize and accept, but I
would swear it again if he so desires,” the young lord asserted.

“And your father? Would he support the True King?” Rezkin
inquired.

“I do not know. My father is confusing to me. I think he
might only because he knows of Caydean’s sadism, but he is also a staunch
supporter of the bloodline. As you know, my father’s claim to the throne is
through my mother, who was Bordran’s sister; so father is not even of the
bloodline. Plus, he is old. He would not claim the throne for himself, but
merely to preserve it for me so that I man continue the bloodline.”

The young lord stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, “If I
recognize this True King of yours as the rightful king, then my father would
have no choice but to recognize him as well. I have already sworn fealty to the
king, and I cannot take the throne so long as your True King lives.”

“That is true,
if
you recognize him as the king,”
Rezkin stated in agreement.

“I cannot take the throne so long as my cousin sits upon it,
and
your
king is the only legal way to dethrone Caydean. If I do not
support the True King, then I must support Caydean. Either way, I cannot take
the throne, even if I wanted it. My choices are the evil that I know or the
utter unknown. I trust you, Rezkin. I do not think you would serve someone
worse than Caydean. It is not only my moral obligation, it is my duty to my
people to recognize the True King,” Tieran argued.

Rezkin nodded in understanding. Tieran made a very good case
for his support of Rezkin as king, even if he did not know Rezkin was the man
in question. “I can see that you have put much thought into this, Tieran. I think
you will make a better duke than you thought you would.”

“I have changed much on this journey,” the young lord
agreed. “I found flaws in myself that I did not care to see. The others have
had some influence, but I largely credit you, Rezkin. Never have I heard anyone
speak so passionately about the noble cause. I came to realize that power
without purpose is empty. My life has direction, now. I feel pride in who I am,
not just because of the House to which I was born, but because of the
responsibility I bear. My father has been training me for years to take on his
role, but taxes and trade agreements could not hold my interest. Now, I truly
understand
why
it is so important that I focus on those issues.”

“I am glad to hear it, Tieran,” Rezkin said with sincerity.
In only a few weeks, Tieran had gone from being a petty aristocrat to a noble
lord. He seemed sincere, but time would tell. There was a chance that Tieran
would revert back to his old ways once he returned to Kaibain, although Rezkin
thought it unlikely. Tieran had finally become a man.

“Now, what of
him
,” Rezkin said, pointing at the
stallion.

The final few days to Skutton were more of the same. The sea
was a bit calmer with only a few brief showers, but everyone was happier since
Reaylin began treating them for seasickness. Tieran had been able to calm Pride
enough to keep him from bursting through the stall or breaking a leg, and the
crew was more relaxed without the fear of a runaway battle charger looming over
them. It was midday when the ship pulled into port, and the docks were a bustle
of activity. The sour scent of salt and fish hung heavily in the air, but
everyone was overjoyed to be back on land.

“Ugh,” Tam groaned once his feet struck dirt. “I feel like
the land is moving beneath me.”

“That be the land sickness. I says ye’ll be gettin’ yer land
legs back in no time, don’t ye fret,” a passing crewmember commented.

“Wow, this city is amazing!” Frisha exclaimed.

Skutton Island rose steeply from ocean level to a peak in
the center of the landmass. The city of Skutton was built in tiers with the
docks and merchant district toward the bottom, and the more affluent homes and
shops toward the top of the first rise. Upon the rise sat the city offices and
capital building. Further upslope, about halfway between the city limits and
the summit, stood the estate of Duke Ytrevius, whose duchy included all of the
isles and much of the western peninsula.

Most of the structures were built from white stone capped
with grey slate tiles quarried from the other side of the island or from the
slopes that had been flattened into the tiers. The effect was stunning. Tall
palms and short, brilliant flowering shrubs dotted the landscape. Between
buildings and along streets were awnings dyed in bright colors to keep
pedestrians dry during the frequent light showers. The streets had been carved
into the natural white stone and were sloped, so drainage was never a problem.
The city was quite clean when compared with other cities Rezkin had visited.

Several carriages for hire were waiting near the docks to
take on passengers and luggage. While everyone unloaded, a number of
dockworkers lugged trunks and packs down the pier. Rezkin walked Pride in
circles to get him used to the stationary land again and then saddled the beast
for the short ride to the inns. Tieran sent word of his arrival to his father’s
guard who were stationed in Skutton for the tournament, and his assigned
personal guard arrived a short time later. Tieran was to be a personal guest of
Duke Ytrevius while attending the tournament. In truth, he was loath to leave
the company of his newfound friends, especially since he would have to endure
the company of Ytrevius’s five daughters, three of whom were of, or close to,
marrying age.

The Coral Cove and Sun Coast Inns were located directly
across from one another, and their façades were nearly identical except for the
color of the awnings and small signs that hung over the doors from decorative
iron rods. The baron and Waylen, along with their guards, had reservations at
another inn less than a block away and around the corner. Because of the
addition of the mage and striker to their party, Rezkin had to make a few last
minute adjustments to the room assignments. At the Coral Cove, the four rooms were
assigned to Rezkin, Tam and Wesson; Frisha and Reaylin; Jimson, Millins, and
Drascon; and Brandt and Kai. At the Sun Coast, Malcius and Palis shared a room,
while Shiela had one to herself with her maid. The four Jebai guards shared the
third, which had four beds, but they would not be using it at the same time
since they would be taking guard shifts. The servants stayed with others in a
room behind the kitchen reserved for such.

The rooms were larger than the rooms at the previous inns in
which they stayed and had a number of improvements the others did not. Each
room had its own fireplace, which was not necessary during the day; but they
were told it could get quite cool at night, particularly during stormy weather.
There were also two common privies, one at each end of the hall, so patrons
were not required to use chamber pots.

The greatest improvement, in Rezkin’s opinion, was that each
room had a screened in bathing chamber with water that poured from pipes into a
large copper tub. The pipes led to a massive cistern on the roof that collected
rainwater. Two pipes poured into the tub, one of which carried hot water from
what the innkeeper called a
boiler
. The tub had a drain in the bottom,
and once the plug was removed, the water flowed out of the tub into pipes that
carried the wash water to gullies that ran along the sides of the street all
the way to the sea. It was an ingenious design that meant no one had to lug
heavy buckets of water up the stairs to fill small basins. Rezkin hoped the
design would someday be carried over to the mainland.

The travelers settled into their rooms, and then Frisha
immediately wanted to see the city. Rezkin arranged a tour by open carriage.
He, Frisha, Tam and Wesson took up the passenger seats while Lieutenant Drascon
rode beside the driver as escort. Reaylin said she had some other business to
which she needed to attend, and Rezkin pondered if it had something to do with
the rebels. Captain Jimson set off to use the Mage Relay to send word to the
general of their safe arrival, and Sergeant Millins attempted to get some
sleep, since he would be taking the first night shift.

The carriage ride lasted about an hour as it circled the
city, going up the hill past the city government buildings and ending in the
market district where the companions opted to stop and tour the shops. They ate
dinner at a small restaurant near the market square, which served fish and
other strange creatures from the sea that they had never before tasted. Tam was
not sure what kind of animal a squid was, but he thoroughly enjoyed the soft,
white meat. Frisha, however, absolutely did not care for the strange texture.
Rezkin ordered a dish called lobster, and when he received the massive red
creature on his plate, he decided it must be some sort of sea scorpion. The
meat inside was delicious, though, and he wondered if the land scorpions would
taste the same. Wesson and Drascon were less adventurous and simply ordered
whatever fish was being served. The fish tasted a bit different from the
freshwater river fish, but it was still just fish.

When they were finished, the small group walked the few
blocks back to their inn. After weeks on the ship with only a couple of
all-too-brief stopovers, the travelers were eager to turn in early. Even Rezkin
opted to forgo any scouting and intelligence missions for the night. With a
week until the tournament, Rezkin had much for which to prepare. At least he
would not have to do everything himself now that he had people to serve him.

The following day, Rezkin asked Tam, Wesson and Kai to join
him in his room. Frisha was a bit put out that she was excluded from whatever
was going on, but she accepted that Rezkin had business to which she was not
privy. The woman began to wonder what Tam’s involvement was. She knew Rezkin had
employed him to run errands, but she now wondered if Tam was somehow also
involved with the business of the True King. She resolved to ask him about it
when next she had the chance.

Rezkin turned to his three companions and felt the tingle of
mage power as Wesson set his sound ward. “I am going to need your assistance in
preparing for the tournament,” the warrior stated to the group. “I will not be
competing as Rezkin. I will wear the mask.”

“What? Why?” Kai protested. “You should be known! The people
will see you and cheer your name! It is the perfect opportunity to win their
hearts.”

Rezkin shook his head and said, “I do not want the
wrong
people to know my name or recognize me. The strikers are here, Kai, and we both
know my questionable relationship with them.”

Kai grumbled beneath his breath and said, “Then what do you
plan to do?”

“Wait,” said Wesson. “What do you mean that you will wear
the mask? I am not very familiar with sword dueling. There are no masks in mage
duels.”

“It was once a tradition for duelers to wear a mask to hide
their identities during their duels. It was largely symbolic since there were
far fewer people, and most everyone knew the talented swordsmen. It was meant
to demonstrate that the duelists were competing for respect and love of the
art
and not for fame and glory. Today, it is still an option, but it is largely
employed only in the lower tiers,” Rezkin explained.

“Most duelists wear them for the opposite reason, now,” Kai
interjected.

Rezkin nodded in agreement and said, “The less experienced
or more self-conscious wear the mask to hide their identities in case they
embarrass themselves. If they perform well, then they dramatically unveil
themselves at the end of their last duel.”

“And, you wish to do this to hide your identity from the
strikers?” Wesson asked. He did not know about Rezkin’s relationship with the
strikers, but he had a feeling it had to do with the business of the True King.
“Do you not have to register your name?”

The warrior shook his head. “No, if one chooses to wear the
mask, he may register under an assumed name. It can be anything, but it rarely
actually represents a given a name.”

“Ideally, it should represent the duelist in some way, but
it is usually something frightening, bold, or glorifying like Dark Avenger or
Lightbringer,” Kai grumbled. “Sometimes the name sticks long after the
tournament, and a swordsman will carry it the rest of his life.”

“What will your name be, Rez?” Tam asked curiously.

Rezkin frowned and replied, “I have not yet considered the
issue.”

“Well, it has to be good if you are to be known by it the
rest of your life,” Tam remarked.

“You could go by The Rez, which is ominous and frightening,
but it might be a little too obvious for your tastes,” Kai mentioned.

“How about Warlord?” asked Wesson. “It sounds intimidating
to me, and you
are
bringing on a war.”

Rezkin scowled at the reminder, and Kai grunted before
saying, “It has already been taken. A mediocre fighter went by the name a
couple of years ago. We would not want people to get confused. How about Blood
Wraith?” the striker suggested with a grin.

The warrior frowned and shook his head. “It sounds
grotesque. It is hardly a name you would want associated with your king.”

Kai’s face fell. “I see your point.”

Tam perked up with a broad smile, “I’ve got it! Dark
Tidings.”

Rezkin cocked his head and looked at his friend curiously.
Tam continued with an explanation. “You know, it is another reference to the
Rez, which is your namesake. Plus, it’s symbolic – a warning. You
are
the king
and you bring dark tidings to the usurper. The Rez is free and
coming for his target – like the old bard’s tale says, ‘…
Cometh nigh
the Rez
.’ Everyone knows what happens when the Rez appears. Whether you
believe he was real or not, he is the only man in the entire kingdom that
everyone
fears – except the king; and Caydean is no longer exempt from your wrath,
since you do not serve him. In the tales, the Rez holds everyone accountable to
the king. Now, you are going to hold the king accountable.” Rezkin nodded
slowly and glanced over at the other two.

Kai grinned broadly and said, “I like it.”

Wesson shivered and said, “It is terrifying.”

“You have not even heard my plan for a disguise,” Rezkin
said with a wolfish grin.

The warrior sent his vassals and employee to obtain supplies
for his disguise and then he set out to purchase a new sword. He had little
time since Frisha had expressed a desire to return to the market to purchase a
few items, and he did not feel comfortable with her being in the crowd with only
two soldiers as escort.

Rezkin wove his way through the city until he found the
particular blacksmith’s shop he had been seeking. It was smaller than most and
completely uninspiring from the outside. The warrior stepped through the door
into a small room whose walls were lined with mediocre weapons little better
than the standard issue soldier’s swords. A long cord ran through a hole in the
wall and hung down over the counter. Rezkin gave the cord a few firm pulls and
then waited. After a few moments, a squat, older man in his fifties came
bustling through the door behind the counter. His shirt was damp with sweat,
and he still wore a scarred leather apron.

“What can I do fer ya?” the man barked.

“I seek a sword,” Rezkin replied.

The smith waved a hand around the room and said, “Well,
there be an assortment fer ya ta pick from.” The man’s accent was a mixture of
salty seadog and mountain brogue.

Rezkin shook his head and said, “I want a
real
sword.”

The old man grumbled as he stroked his beard and looked the
warrior up and down. “What do ya need a sword fer? Ye already got
two
,”
he said with scorn.

“I cannot wield these in the tournament,” Rezkin explained.
“They are enchanted.”

“Ah, I see,” the smith said with skeptical but interested
eyes as he took in the unimpressive hilts. “Well, demand be high right now with
the tournament approachin’ and metal be gettin’ scarce fer those of us smiths
not contracted with the king. What do ye be lookin’ fer?”

Rezkin shrugged and said, “What do you have available for
purchase in the next few days?”

“Do ye be wanted a one-handed or two-handed sword?” the
smith asked.

“It does not matter,” Rezkin replied. “It simply needs to be
masterful
,” he said emphasizing the word.

The smith raised a brow and crossed his arms that were the
size of tree trunks. “And ye think ye can be gettin’ somethin’ like that ‘ere?”

“I doubt a Master Swordsmith has suddenly forgotten how to
forge a blade,” Rezkin remarked.