Bardess of Rhulon Page 13
Crimson sniffed. “But why do you want the dwarf girl?”
“That is not your concern, slave. Bring her to me or suffer my anger.”
Chapter Eleven
Queen Gurza was old, even for a hobgoblin of the Kobalos breed. They ruled the goblin clans since time began. Now her long reign was done. In her prime, Gurza stood over six feet tall; her skin red as blood; her fangs lethal and long. Now infirmity and age twisted her body and withered her skin; her fangs broken and stained; even her bones rattled for death. Let the Grim Gods summon her down to the underworld and be done with it. She had one last duty before she surrendered to it. Seven nights ago, she finally passed the bronze crown and sacred rod of Mordok to her son, Morziel. He was chosen to deliver them from the shame that had been their plight for centuries. At least that is what the oracles promised; but they would not dare say otherwise without risking being sacrificed and eaten.
One of her rock troll slaves shuffled into her chambers, its grey speckled face bowed in respect. “Forgive me, Queen Mother, but Beleth has come as you requested.”
“Bring her to me.” Gurza reclined on her throne.
Beleth entered the throne room like she already ruled as Queen. She was the prize of Mordok and knew it. Like Gurza, she was born with the markings of a queenblack swirls that marked her scarlet cheeks. Her black hair sprouted with tiny snakes that seemed to dance. A trace of envy burned in Gurza. She touched her sparse mane, stroking her own weary little serpents; even they were tired in their old age and rarely danced now. Beleth knelt and bowed her head in obeisance. Her eyes burned with lust and hunger. Yes, Beleth could endure what was to come.
“Rise,” Gurza commanded.
“What may I slay for you, Queen Gurza?” Beleth asked, using the formal greeting.
“At the next full moon, I have decreed that you shall wed my son, King Morziel.”
It was expected. Beleth was the only acceptable mate. Morziel was descended from Raziel himselfthrough Gurza. Beleth was descended from priest and oracles. These ancient lines, sacred among their demon kind, would give weight to her son’s destiny.
Beleth’s lips curved in a satisfied smile, her fangs pointed and sharp. “I pray to be worthy of King Morziel.”
“You must be.”
“Yes, Queen Mother. I will bear Morziel many warriors. I will prepare the way for the coming of the Grim Gods.”
“Long have we waited. For generations we have remained hidden in caves and underground kingdoms beneath the realms of the humans. Mordok is our country, but we exist everywhere. Centuries ago, the last war left us near extinction. Raziel was killed by an Ironheart. The cursed dwarf used the sun blade, poisoned with fey magic. It destroyed Raziel. To die by fey magic is a fate worse than simple death. Ironheart died, but his legions decimated the rest of us. What little survived scattered and hid, like rodents. The ascendancy of our race has been the goal of my clan since that fateful day.”
“I have dreams,” Beleth whispered, “of long ago. The ancient fairy races ruled this world once. They have long since vanished, but still they exist. In my dreams they watch us, peering through the mystical veils that divide our worlds.”
“The priests said you might be an oracle, touched by the Dark.”
“My dreams only leave me confused, Queen Gurza.”
Gurza rose sluggishly from her throne. “Help me up.” With the aid of Beleth, she hobbled to the low altar of black stone. “Let us pray to the dark ones,” Gurza invited.
“What else do the priests say?”
Gurza tittered, her frail skeletal body shaking with the exertion. “The priests cast bones and swing their stinking incense, not that they know any more than we do. We sent some changelings to infiltrate the human world and its weaknesses. They are making chaos. Killing. Spying. They can walk where we cannot. The changelings have begun reporting back, but there is one still missing. Crimson. I gave her to Morziel as one of his coronation gifts. She worshipped him. He sent her to scout the borders of our realm, nothing more. She should have been gone for no more than a few days, but it has been weeks.”
“Such an insignificant slave is a trivial loss, even a favorite. If she is ever found, I will make sure she is punished,” Beleth promised.
“The changeling would deserve it, but the pathetic creature worshipped my son. Morziel found her amusing. She just vanished. I must find him another gift, besides you of course. What would you do, Beleth, if Crimson suddenly returned?”
“I would crush her skull and have her remains stewed for Morziel.”
“Excellent,” Gurza chuckled. “You are worthy of the bronze crown.”
* * *
When Rose tried to get dressed, she discovered her own clothes were gone. She hoped they did not throw them away! That would upset poor Becky. She wanted to save the smart bardic uniform for performing, should she have a position. Maybe the maid put her clothes in the wardrobe? She opened the doors and found masses of exquisite clothes stuffed within, all fitted for her dwarf sizenot tall folk. There was even an array of accessories. Shoes, nightgowns, cloaks, gloves, stockings, and even underwear, crammed together in the bottom drawers. Rose was disturbed. A single outfit was one thing to plan. This was something else.
I wonder if Culain keeps a Rhulonese mistress for his amusement and these are her clothes. Maybe he discarded her? Maybe he has many mistresses and he keeps an assortment of gowns for his harem!
These fantastic ideas infuriated her. This perplexed Rose, because she did not even care for Culain. He was too bold, arrogant, contradictory, and dressed like a frilly fop. Still, Rose needed to put something on. She chose the plainest outfit she could find, a forest green muslin skirt and white cotton blouse with a lace collar. She felt a little dirty wearing the castoff clothes of some fallen mistress.
Restless, she gravitated toward an ornate desk. Rummaging through the drawers, she found a ream of pale golden paper and an expensive writing stylus. The find broke her frantic hunt. She sat down and began writing about last night, as though only that could make some sense of it all. Writing always calmed her down. If she focused on a new story about Meg, she could not fume about Culain’s secretive mistresses.
Knocking on the door broke her concentration. Rose reluctantly called, “Come in.”
Prince Culain strode into her chamber. Sally followed him with a tray of hot coffee and pastries. The aroma was wonderful. She was ravenous again. Sally curtsied and left.
“Good, you’re awake,” Culain smiled and indicated the table for Sally to leave the breakfast. “I see you found the pen and paper. Excellent. A true bard is always creating.”
Being alone with Culain made her uneasy now. She got up from the desk and reminded herself to curtsy, for he was still a prince. “Your Highness, do not be angry with me for asking, but I don’t know if it is proper for us to be alone in my bedchamber.”
Oh dear, I sound just like my mother!
“Don’t fret so, Rose. Your virginity is safe. This is just business.”
She felt her face flush and bit her tongue.
“You’re in my employ now. There’s nothing unwholesome about a breakfast meeting.”
“So it’s official. I’m your bard now?” she asked.
“I think we will revive the term bardess, as it gives you an edge. You are unique in the world; thus you should have a unique title. I rather like the sound of it. Bardess. And yes, you are my official bard. If you had not done well, I would have sent you packing back to the Red Boar last night.”
“Good to know,” Rose replied dryly.
“When you recited the Ironheart poem, you could not have made me prouder. Flawless! I was not expecting that request. You must perform it for my father someday. I commend Belenus for his tutelage.”
She smiled, glowing with pride for a brief moment, until she recalled the wardrobe of mystery clothes.
“Now, let me explain more about your other duties,” Culain said, pouring them coffee.
/> Was it normal for a prince to wait upon common folk? He was confusing her again.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Your Highness?” she replied quizzically, sitting down and adding cream to her coffee.
“In private, you may just call me Culain. Titles tend to grind my sensibilities. They are a facade people often hide behind. In public, just use the normal royal drivel.” He chose a raspberry roll and leaned back in his chair. “In serving me, you serve Rhulon. Even something trivial could be important to the security of the state. I want you to listen and watch, Rose. My trusted valet, Robert Silverberry, will help you learn the ropes. You’re talented, but naïve and young. Therefore, you must be tutored in the ways of court politics. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Culain.”
“Excellent,” Culain replied. “Today, you’ll perform in the royal gardens on the west side of the palace at tea time. No singing unless requested, just instrumental. Play your lute and listen. My valet, Robert, will take you there. Wear your bard uniform. That blue suits you by the way.”
“I will be there.”
“Until three this afternoon, you’re at liberty to do whatever you wish. My private carriage is at your disposal. I have a long meeting with the Emperor, so I won’t need it.”
After Culain left, her mind churned. The purple cloaked woman. Her sense of dread, but it was probably just foolishness. The closet of fancy dresses vexed her. Her frets faded with the reality that she was appointed as a real bard! A bardess!
Taking Culain at his word, Rose summoned Sally and requested Culain’s carriage. She had so much to tell Meg and the Croftons. She quickly wrote a message to Meg, asking to meet her at the Red Boar around noon.
* * *
Emperor Aristide laid a hand on the pile of reports gathered from all over the continent, shaking his head. “Are you sure about this, Culain?”
Culain reclined in the blue brocade chair and nodded. “Positive. My people are skilled in tracking facts and evidence. There have been numerous anomalous occurrences in several kingdoms in just the past year. Juraca has broken into a civil war, but we saw that coming for years. Not with the other kingdoms. Rulers are dying from mysterious illnesses or accidents in such quick account that they are worrisome.”
Aristide looked exhausted. Culain had spent all morning with him, reviewing the stack of testaments. It grieved Culain to add to his burden, especially since he had recently suffered the loss of his eldest son, Justin.
Aristide rubbed his eyes after removing his reading spectacles wearily. “Generals and other important people of state and military are dying or just vanishing without reason or trace.”
“It’s happening everywhere and far too frequently to be the usual political games or sad event. Several states have been thrown into chaos.”
“Could my son’s death be part of this? Could this conspiracy of chaos you speak of have assassinated my son?”
Culain was hesitant to answer, because in truth he did not know. “I’ve no wish to cause you pain, Aristide, but it’s impossible to know that.”
Culain did not relish bringing this up to Aristide, but he had permission from his father to bring Aristide into the fold. “Tragically, this past year we suffered our own chaos. A changeling infiltrated our court and tried to assassinate my father.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this?”
“We kept it very quiet. I trust you shall keep this a secret for now. Several brave guards died saving my father. We tried to capture the damn thing. It died in the process, which was a shame.”
“Why?” Aristide gruffly asked.
“Because I wanted answers,” Culain replied sharply. “Unlike goblins and other similar disgusting species, a changeling can wear a human face and breach human populations. Such extremes points to a darker power, especially since changelings have squat for intelligence. There are even rumors that Mordok is swarming with goblins again. They have been sighted in other realms too.”
Aristide looked skeptical. “This is speculation of course.”
“Speculation can become fact.”
“We exterminated those monsters centuries ago,” Aristide affirmed. “A few strays roam here and there, easily put down by the sword.”
“We know so little about them,” Culain confirmed darkly. “I’m not saying goblins are planning world carnage, but past experience reflects their love of killing and mayhem. It’s possible the goblin threat is a front to mask the real conspirators. There may be other more human factors at the reins, but I need to investigate this further. I trust you, Aristide. Our family shares a long bond. I would rather learn the truth now. I don’t want to be caught with my britches down to discover it’s all true and it’s too late to do anything about it.”
“My beloved son and heir is dead. And if that was not bad enough, he may have been the victim of faceless enemies we don’t even know.” Aristide looked so fragile for a moment that Culain pitied him, but he would never confess it.
“The loss of a child is a sorrow that can never heal,” Culain agreed gently. “But avenging that loss is a worthy start, as long as we target the right culprits.” He sipped his sherry and paused a moment, thinking. “If I may ask, don’t you think Darius should be hearing this? This does involve him as your only heir now.”
Aristide shook his head, standing up from his elegant desk and pacing around the room. “Not yet. This is too new for the boy.”
“Perhaps, but the events indicate a threat to your kingdom.”
“A ruler must be strong. Darius is not,” the Emperor commented bluntly. “I may sound cruel, but I have known you since you were a boy, Culain. You’ve been my personal conduit to your father for years. I trust you more than any other except for my family. You know that Darius was never meant for the throne. Maybe that’s my fault. I focused all of my energy and attention on Justin. I didn’t even think about the possibility the crown would fall to Darius. He was the ‘spare’ as they often call the second son, marked for church or armyor an advantageous foreign marriage to a princess of wealth. Now I am paying the price. I grieve for my empire as much as for my son. He was a natural to succeed me to the throne, so bold and fearless, a great rider, noble, generous, and wise in statecraft. The perfect prince. Now he’s dead and lost to me forever. I know you’re his friend, but I fear Darius is too soft for the imperial crown.”
“As Darius’ friend and a fellow prince, I understand his position as well as yours. When you’re not the heir to the throne and never expected to rule, such as myself, it’s shocking when fate changes things. When you’re a secondary prince, or like me, fifteenth, you have a choice. You hone valuable skills and talents to make yourself useful to king and country. Or you become an indolent prince who drinks all day. My liver would not tolerate the latter, so I decided to become useful. Darius is gentle of heart, but he is still a De’ Ruarc, son of the great Emperor Aristide. He studied vigorously at that quiet monastery. All he has done for three years is study. He is patient and devoted. Now he’s your sole heir and that’s hard for him too. He wants to please you more than anything.” In a softer, personal voice, Culain added, “He worships you, Aristide. He just needs time and your gentle guidance to help him.”
“I don’t know how to be gentle,” Aristide confessed in a broken voice. “I have been an Emperor since I was seventeen. I don’t remember what gentleness feels like. Darius looks like he would break if I pushed him too hard.”
“He is more adaptable than you think. Princes tend to be quite resilient. It’s in our blood. Invite him to counsel meetings. Let him watch and learn. You may both even enjoy it. Darius is stronger than you realize.”
“You have a lot of opinions, Culain, but you also understand the sacrifice required in kingship. It’s a shame you’re not the heir to Rhulon. What a king you would make! Together, we could conquer the whole continent.”
“Ah, but if I were, I would not be enjoying your exquisite sherry. I wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of p
ower. I would suffer constant headaches.” Culain gave a mock shudder and poured two more glass of sherry. “Horrifying notion.” He passed one to the Emperor after he sipped it. “So as not to disturb your taster.”
“Always considerate,” Aristide grinned.
“As an ancient ally of Tirangel, Rhulon’s interests have always aligned with yours. We have a wonderful balance of trade and military support. If we are threatened by outside forces, we must take care to watch our backsides as well as our borders. Monarchs are toppling in the east at an alarming rate. Heirs and kings are dying suddenly. Generals. Religious leaders. It is too strange for it all to be just a coincidence. I know this is painful, but we need to investigate this together. If we can find the source of these maladies, then we could strike them down before they do more damage.”
“I will consider your proposition. Say nothing of this to my wife for now. Isabeau has suffered greatly since our son died in that cursed accidentif it was an accident. Right now Darius is home and it gives her comfort, and for that I bless him. Perhaps you’re right, but let’s keep this between us for now.”
“I would never dream of upsetting your gracious Empress. I would sooner cut out my tongue. She’s a sweet lady who does not deserve such grief. For that alone, I will discover what is behind all of this,” Culain promised earnestly. “I know it would be easy for each kingdom to ignore each other’s troubles. That is also the way to chaos and ruin. I think our enemies are counting on that.”
“And what does the Raven say?” Aristide asked pointedly.
Culain arched his brow, leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You would know about Raven of course.”
“Of course I know about the Raven, Rhulon’s spymaster who directs your operatives throughout the world. I just don’t know who it is. Hel, not even my Imperial Spymaster knows the identity of the Raven.”
“Of course my patriotism prohibits my telling you, should I even know. All states have secrets. Please don’t torture it out of me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Culain. That could start a war, and neither of us wants that, at least not with each other.”