The Mad God's Muse (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 2) (19 page)

Kariana
blinked several times. “What? I don't – ”

“It
doesn't matter,” Narelki snapped. She considered calling for
Slat to have the slaves clean the mess, but it was bad enough that
Kariana knew of her tantrum. She could not bear the shame of Slat's
disapproving, silent stare. He had never whipped her as a child, but
that was only because her own father had been quite handy with a
switch, and Slat had learned from a master. She put the thought from
her mind and bent down to pick up pieces of the vase. “What's
the next thing you had to tell me?”

Kariana's
fear seemed to be growing. She was literally trembling now. “You're
a Meite?” she asked in a near whisper. After a moment, she
added, in a very small voice, “Are you going to kill me?”

Narelki
stood and deposited the shards into a waste basket, then turned to
address her insolent, mocking, and soon to be ejected guest. But
looking at the girl, it seemed less mockery and more genuine
ignorance.
We've done you no favors, have we?
Narelki sighed
and allowed herself a brief chuckle. She suddenly felt very old
again. “I once was. But no more. And no, I think I'll let you
live for now, at least until I've heard the rest of what you've come
to say.” A million new questions seemed to float in Kariana's
shocked stare, but now was not the time. “Your news first.
What is the other issue?”

Kariana
nodded, eager to comply. “Teretha Prosin wants an alliance
with you and me. She says to remind you of the Continuity of
Government plans, and you will understand how we can take control of
the council.”

Narelki
heard herself speak, even as she was absorbing the information.
“That's patently ridiculous. It hasn't been used in....”
She trailed off as she thought more deeply.
Perhaps.
Kariana,
still nervous and blinking in confusion, seemed to be trying to
understand, and failing.
Mei, I don't remember the details!
She
began scanning the bookshelves, looking for a specific volume whose
name she could not quite remember.
I'll know it when I see it.

Kariana,
of course, lacked the grace to simply silence her prattle while her
elders were thinking. “She doesn't know about Aiul and the
Meites. But we could stop them if we did this, right? They'll listen
to the will of the council?”

Narelki
chuckled softly, nodding at this even as she continued her search.
“And of course I would have to absolve Rithard. That's what
this is really about, yes?”

“Isn't
it worth it?”

Narelki
paused and raised an eyebrow at Kariana, considering, then turned
back to the shelf. “It is. I have no real hate for Rithard. It
was Davron's doing.” She felt a brief flare of rage at the
thought of Davron's arrogance, followed by a small, lustful thought.
She had to admit, grudgingly, he was all the more attractive for it.
“I can hardly fault the boy for being afraid, and I can't help
but admire how well he carried it off. But he should have come to
me. I could have protected him.” She grimaced at the
correction that came to mind, as if swallowing a bitter pill, but
felt it would be simply weakness not to speak the plain truth. “
We
could have protected him.”

“So
you
are
still a Meite?”

Narelki
placed a hand where she left off her search, shook her head sadly,
and gave Kariana her attention once again. “No. I have nothing
left. It's all gone. They coddle me, as if I am a child they need to
protect, but my own power fled me long ago. I've had to learn other
ways.” She ground her teeth momentarily. “Such as this
bargain you propose.”

“Which
I don't even understand, just so we're clear,” Kariana said,
her tone acid despite her obvious terror. “Nobody ever taught
me about this kind of thing. I'm lucky I'm still alive.”

Narelki
couldn't help but feel some empathy for her. “I suppose you
know something of how it feels, hmm? To lose your whole life and
find yourself having to learn to swim in deep water.” Kariana,
for once, was silent, and suddenly seemed to find the floor a
subject of great interest.
We did it to her, for our own selfish
reasons. She's absolutely right, it's a wonder she's survived.

Narelki
turned back to her search once again, and saw the book she wanted
just below her hand. “Ah, here!” she exclaimed as she
hauled it from the shelf. She was somewhat surprised to see not even
a mote of dust.
I really must remember to congratulate Slat on
this.
Of course, he didn't do the work on his own, but clearly
he held his people to a rigorous standard. Even she wouldn't have
demanded such perfection, but then, Slat had always been that way.

“Teretha
is referring to an ancient law that hasn't been invoked since the
days just after Nihlos's founding.” She showed Kariana the
book briefly before opening it and thumbing through the pages. “You
must understand, in the early days, when all of the houses were
ruled by Meites, there were often battles, literally, amongst the
council members. There was a distinct possibility that a
particularly nasty struggle could end up with someone dead or
incapacitated.”
As you, yourself have suffered from, though
no one had the decency to tell you.

“A
bad enough conflict might leave the council unable to field a
quorum, and prevent them from governing, so a contingency was
written into the law by Amrath. The normal quorum is eight, two
thirds of the council. But should one third of the council members
die or become otherwise unable to perform their duties, the quorum
changes, but only for confirming new members. It becomes a simple
majority of the active members, until there are at least nine
again.”

Kariana's
eyes grew wide as she made the connection. “Sadrina's never
been replaced!”

Narelki
nodded. “And Davron is in open revolt. While I'm not certain
it qualifies in the sense the founders meant it, he's made no
friends with this stunt. Most would see it our way.” Narelki
considered a moment. “Presumably, Teretha will have her own
puppet suddenly fall ill or resign. Now I understand why they put
that idiot in charge. He was disposable all along. But we would need
one more to reduce quorum to five.”

Kariana's
expression darkened. “Prandil! I'll seduce him and poison
him!”

Narelki
barked a harsh, humorless laugh at this. “Mei! You are bold,
aren't you? Or are you completely ignorant of the fact that he and I
were lovers once?”

Kariana
looked ashen. “I'm doing a good job of making sure I don't get
out of here alive, huh?”

Narelki
laughed again, and dabbed at tears in her eyes.
She's actually
quite hilarious, if one thinks of her in the proper mindset.
“I
didn't say I objected, child. It's just that you wouldn't be able to
carry it off.”

Kariana
smirked at this. “I see the way he looks at me!”

“Oh,
you could seduce him well enough. But poison a Meite? Not possible.
If he even noticed the attempt, he'd refuse to believe it, and then
beat you within an inch of your life, if not beyond.”

Kariana
was back in full-fledged horror. “That's impossible! No one is
immortal.”

“Oh,
he's hardly immortal. Meites bleed like anyone else. It's just that
you'd need to be considerably more up front about it, and you'd need
to do it quickly.”

“So
you don't care if he dies?”

“If
I am to believe what you've told me, he's part of a conspiracy to
murder my child.”

“'If',”
Kariana sighed. “I told you all I know. You seemed like you
believed me when you were wrecking the place.”

“You
are correct. I find myself fairly convinced, even knowing who you're
bargaining with. No one outside the order would know enough to mock
up that story you told, including Teretha Prosin.”

“So
what do I tell her, then?”

“Tell her I'm considering
her offer. Until I have a plan to deal with Prandil, it's
irrelevant, anyway.”

Rithard sat unmoving
in a comfortable chair, fingers steepled, contemplating how to
escape his cell. Oh, it had the appearance of a nicely appointed
room, but it was a cell nonetheless. The door was locked, making him
a prisoner, something he intended to rectify.

He remembered
Caelwen going down to Davron's prodigious blow, not even knowing if
his friend had survived. They had taken Rithard then, and he had
offered no protest. It was not the time. They were strong, and he
was both drunk and weak.

But now, sober
again, with time to think, and left alone and in reach of any number
of things he might turn into weapons, they would soon regret
underestimating him. Did they not realize he could make poison gas
with the cleaners they so thoughtlessly left unguarded? Perhaps even
an explosive?

Rithard chuckled
darkly to himself.
Or a powerful acid that will melt the flesh
from your skulls. You imbeciles should never have given me a means
of cooking.
He cradled his
small grenade with anticipation.
They will come soon.

Soon was a relative
thing. By the time he at last heard a key rattling in the lock, he'd
almost lost his enthusiasm at the prospect.

Rithard leapt to his
feet and took up a position to the side of the door, poised to hurl
his weapon at the head of whomever entered. As it happened, however,
the one who entered was the only person who could stay his hand.

Teretha, resplendent
in a provocative black silk dress, stepped through the door. Davron
entered behind her, literally in tow. She was arm in arm with him.

Teretha turned to
see Rithard, frozen in place, hand held high and ready to strike.
Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. “What
are you about, Rithard?” Davron's hand lowered, hovering at
his blade, but he said nothing.

Rithard lowered his
weapon with a great sigh, and cast his eyes to the ground. He was
neither pleased nor surprised to see Davron's hand move away from
his sword and around to Teretha's backside.
So, she's taken
control here. I should have expected such.
“It would seem
I misunderstood the situation.” He gave her a sour look and
added, “Of course, I was lacking any number of data points
that might have prevented that.”

“Don't be
petulant, Rithard,” she chided. “It's a safe bet that if
I didn't have you snatched up, Narelki would have.”

“And my friend
is dead because of it!”

Davron rolled his
eyes at this. “Mei, he's fine, nothing worse than a headache
and a sore jaw. We can send for him later, if you'd like proof of
that.”

Rithard raised an
eyebrow. “An interesting way to put it. You imply I am your
prisoner.”

Teretha reached up
with delicate hands and physically turned Rithard's head to face
her. “I want you
safe
until this sorts out.”

Davron nodded at
this. “The sooner it's done, the sooner I'll get my father's
sword back.”

Teretha turned to
him and laid a hand on his chest. “In good time.” She
smiled at him and added, “It will be pleasant enough, I assure
you.”

Davron's face seemed
to go to war with itself for a moment, torn between outrage and
desire, at last settling for surrender.”My father would not
approve,” he sighed.

Teretha's eyebrows
rose in shock and offense. “Of
me
?”

“Oh, no, my
dear. My father was quite fond of women, too, to my good fortune.
No, I was thinking of my ignoring the theft of his blade in order to
plant my own.”

Teretha reached up
to pat his cheek. “Your father would want you to have an heir,
and theft is such a strong word. I've merely borrowed it for while.
It's not as if I've asked overmuch for its return.” She turned
back to Rithard, a calculating smile on her face. “Save one
son, and make another. Fighting and fucking have ever been passions
that men find difficult to resist.”

Rithard shuddered
inwardly to hear her speak so frankly, and thanked whatever gods
might have had a hand in his birth that that he was the one man in
the world immune to her manipulations.
At least those kind. She
has other strings to pull on me, but they are not so strong.
“So
I am a 'guest', now?”

Davron stepped back
from the door and waved an arm at the hallway. “You'll have
the run of my grounds, but no further. I can't protect you if you
leave.”

“So I am to
spend my life as a guest of House Noril?”

Teretha caressed his
cheek, her eyes suddenly deep wells of compassion.
And here are
her strings for me.
“
No,
my love,” she said softly, as if he were still her babe in the
cradle. Then her eyes grew cold again. “I think you will not
have to wait here very long at all.”

Rithard knew when
she was taunting him. She enjoyed dangling bits of information in
front of him, like string with a cat. “You know something.
Tell me.”

She gave him a cryptic smile. “You'll work it out soon enough.
In the meantime, I'll enjoy knowing something you don't. It happens
so rarely, it really ought be relished.”

Ilaweh’s
Will
anchored fairly close to the spot where Ahmed had
last seen Yazid, at the mouth of the river. Ahmed allowed himself a
brief moment to feel wistful sadness at the loss of the only father
he had ever known. He followed that moment with another of pride and
the belief that somewhere, Yazid could see what he had accomplished
and was proud.

Then it was time to turn back
to business. He and Sandilianus were in his cabin, sitting across
from one another at the desk. Ahmed looked up from his mental
travels at his second in command. “It is a tricky issue, to be
certain.”

Sandilianus nodded in solemn
agreement. “I once heard a puzzle about a farmer trying to
cross a river with his animals and grain. This feels similar.”

“Aye. Eleran is a fine
fistsman, but I would not trust him with the gold alone.”

Sandilianus, who had spent much
time with the Nihlosian of late, laughed out loud. “He would
tell you himself not to trust him with that. It would be too much of
a temptation.”

“Likewise, if we go with
him, these fools will steal the ship, though.”

Sandilianus shrugged.
“Obviously, we must split our forces.”

“I do not like that
notion. We are in enemy territory. We must not split up and weaken
ourselves even more.”

Sandilianus shook his head,
frustrated. “We have been over this! You must choose one
unpleasant alternative or the other. Stop acting like a boy and be
done with it!”

Ahmed glared at Sandilianus,
and considered challenging him to fists simply to prove he was not
afraid, but he did not relish a beating merely for pride’s
sake. Some other time, perhaps, but now there was important work to
be done.

Ahmed closed his eyes,
thinking. The ship was certainly a rarity, but he would never find
another warrior to equal the ones he had, not here. Losing the ship
would be a setback; losing his men would be disaster.

The ship, then, must be risked.
Yet leaving it in the hands of these savages was no ‘risk’.
It was sacrifice, plain and simple. Was there truly no other way?

Ahmed listened intently for
guidance, for the voice of Ilaweh, but heard nothing. It was not
entirely unexpected. If Ilaweh intervened at every stubbed toe,
there would be no need for men of resourcefulness and courage.
Ilaweh cultivated such things in men through adversity and
challenges just like this one. Ahmed was on his own.

That very realization shifted
stumbling blocks in his mind. He could feel his face warm as a grin
spread over it. “Bring me the Nihlosian!”

Some hours later, Ahmed was
ready to implement his plan. It was hardly perfect, but it at least
tilted the ship back into the ‘risk’ category. That was
enough for him. It had to be.

Sandilianus’s voice rang
throughout the ship. “All hands before the mast!”

Ahmed took his own place at the
fore of the ship, standing at parade rest while the crew gathered.
Sandilianus made run a through berthing, searching for stragglers,
slapping at the backs of their heads.

When they were assembled,
Sandilianus took his own place at Ahmed’s side. “All
hands present and accounted for, Captain.”

Ahmed nodded. “Very
well.” He took a moment to look over the fifty some odd men,
ranging in color from coal black to tan to (in one, singular case)
fish-belly white. It was a motley crew, indeed. Would the locals buy
it? They certainly wore that gullible, stupid look on a fairly
constant basis of late, so there was that factor on his side.

There was really only one way
to find out.

“As you know,” he
called out, “We are here to hire on a new crew to replace you.
This is the bargain I have made, and I will stand by it.” He
paused for drama, then pressed on, “We demons are bound by
certain rules, and must adhere to the letter of our bargains.”

Gasps rippled through the
natives. Ahmed studied the faces of his men carefully, searching for
any hint of humor. They were strong warriors, but it could be very
difficult not to laugh at such things. He was relieved to see that
each and every man’s face was a mask of gravity.

“Yes, it is true. We
thought to deceive you and take you all to hell, but your man
Bendaro saw through us. He forced me into this bargain. You should
thank him.”

Ahmed paused again, allowing
the natives to do just that. They looked at Bendaro with reverence
and gratitude. Bendaro, for his own part, looked quite
uncomfortable.
Damn! Has he
changed his mind?

“But know you this!”
Ahmed roared. “Bound by a bargain I may be, but I am a
powerful sorcerer, as well as a demon! And if you break our bargain,
you will break my bonds, and you will feel my wrath!”

The natives’ eyes were
wide with fear. Ahmed could see some of them were actually trembling
with it. Good. Time to rub it in.

Eleran spat on the ground and
called out, “Bullshit.”

Desperate, strangled cries
burst from several of the crew. Cries of, “Idiot!” and
“Shut up, fool!” rang out across the deck. Eleran
clenched a fist and took a step toward his closest detractor. The
man shrunk away.

“Yeah, you know what to
be scared of, don’t you?” he muttered to the man, then
spoke to the crowd at large. “I’ve told you fools for
years! They ain’t demons! And he
ain’t
no sorcerer, either! I’ve
seen
sorcerers!”

Ahmed pointed a finger and him
and shouted, “Dog! You dare defy me? Suffer!”

Eleran clutched at his chest
and screamed, staggering this way and that over the deck. The
natives screamed along with him, stumbling over one another in
desperation to avoid him as he bumbled about. At last, he collapsed
to the deck where he writhed in convulsions, still screaming.

The crewmembers were
practically gibbering in fear by now. Sandilianus drew his blade and
brandished it. “Silence!” The other Xanthians also drew
their blades and stepped back from the crowd. The natives huddled
together, looking in all directions at once.

Ahmed gestured to Sandilianus.
“I will show these fools I am not to be trifled with! Bring me
his boot!”

The crowd parted before
Sandilianus as he moved toward Eleran. Eleran had stopped screaming
now, and was flapping about like a fish on the deck. His lips were
flecked with foam, and his eyes rolled in his head, unseeing.
Sandilianus grabbed his right boot and began pulling.

“The left boot!”
Ahmed shouted.

Sandilianus switched to
Eleran’s left foot, scowling.

Ahmed called out, “It
must
be the left boot, fool! You do not understand sorcery.
Do
you
wish to
test me today?”

Sandilianus shook his head,
fear on his face. “No, dark master!” He jerked Eleran’s
left boot from his foot and brought it to Ahmed.

Ahmed tried to present as evil
a face as possible as he cried out, “Behold, dogs, what
happens to those who incur my wrath!” He formed the words as
slowly as he could, and finished by raising the boot high above his
head. He brought his other hand just beneath it and held it there,
twisting his fingers into a claw.

Fire sprung from his hand and
licked at the boot. On the deck, flames sprung up on Eleran as well.
Within brief seconds, he was engulfed by them. Screaming, he leapt
to his feet, rushed to the ship’s railing, and dove overboard.

Ahmed waited a moment for the
whole scene to sink in, then cried in his best voice of doom, “Bring
me your boots, dogs! The left ones! And know if you betray me, I
will strike you down in the same way!”

As Ahmed and his men walked
down the makeshift gangplank of
Ilaweh’s
Will
, there was little doubt in his mind that the ship
would remain just where he had left it. Sandilianus, just behind
him, carried a heavy sack over his shoulder, said sack containing
nearly thirty left shoes. The natives watched them go, their faces
so pale with fear that they looked more like Eleran’s people
than their own.

Ahmed bit his tongue to keep
from laughing. “Don’t look,” he gasped. “It
only makes it harder!”

Sandilianus nodded. “I
know. Too late. I already did.”

Eleran met them a mile upriver,
looking none the worse for wear. “Did they buy it?”

Sandilianus shook his head. “I
am almost ashamed at the fear we have put in their souls. Those men
will starve to death before they leave.”

Eleran beamed. “Neat
trick, eh? Did I earn my share of the gold?”

Ahmed clapped him on the
shoulder. “Indeed! How
did
you manage that flame, anyway?”

Eleran smiled secretly. “I
could tell you. But then I’d have to— ”

“Kill me,” Ahmed
completed, sighing and waving his hands about his head as if to ward
off gnats. “Fine, keep your secrets. Let’s get on with
this. We have far to go.”