Dwarven Ruby (37 page)

“Probably not,” frowned Duke Zalski. “You should not stop trying, but I fear that after tomorrow, you will be totally ineffective.”

“Well I appreciate your candor,” stated Konic, “but I must continue to fight for what I believe is in the city’s best interests.”

“My candor is a long time past due, Lord Clava,” smiled Duke Zalski. “It is probably suicidal of me, but I wish to join with you in the attempt to restore the queen to power.”

“Why?” asked Konic as his mouth opened wide in surprise.

“As I said earlier,” answered Duke Zalski, “I have had time to reflect upon many things. The Council has failed miserably to govern Tagaret. And I believe that even if the players were changed, it is the wrong mechanism to rule. The Council was designed as an advisory board. It functions well in that capacity, but the people need a monarch to inspire them. They need a queen to nurture them and care for them. Tagaret faces certain ruin if we fail to change the leadership of the city.”

“Well this is a most welcome surprise,” smiled Konic.

“Do not get so elated,” frowned Duke Zalski. “We face certain failure.”

“But you are still willing to back the queen?” posed Konic.

“Even if it kills me,” affirmed Duke Zalski. “And it probably will. At least I will leave this world on the right side of things.”

“Do the other councilors know of your change of heart?” asked Konic.

“It is not really a change of heart,” corrected Duke Zalski. “I have always strived to help this city. It is more of an opening of my eyes, but to answer your question, no they are unaware of my plans. In fact, in a perverse way, I look forward to the shock on their faces when I vote with you and Lord Markel.”

“And if I can mange to make the vote a matter of the dissolution of the Council instead of the monarchy,” posed Konic, “would you vote to dissolve the Council?”

“If that means that the monarchy will rule, yes,” declared Duke Zalski. “I will not vote to leave the city without any leadership though.”

“Nor would I,” agreed Konic.

“Well, I must get to bed,” declared Duke Zalski as he rose. “I expect you to guide me through any votes that are not clear to me, Lord Clava. Tell me what you want, and I will stand with you. Good night.”

After Duke Zalski left, Konic walked over to the bookshelf and looked up.

“Carry an image of this conversation to Oscar,” Konic said to the fairy. “Ask him for his opinion and any orders that he might have regarding it.”

* * *

The sky was just beginning to lighten when Arik and Wylan gathered their belongings and left the inn. They proceeded to the stables and began loading the packs on their horses.

“You are up early,” the voice said as a figure moved out of the shadows. “I was not sure of which room you were in, or what name you were registered under. Are you leaving town?”

Arik and Wylan turned to gaze upon Sheri.

“We have to catch a ship this morning,” nodded Arik. “We do not have much time.”

“I am sorry to see you leave so soon,” frowned Sheri. “Your gift was most generous. I felt the need to thank you personally.”

“It was the least I could do,” smiled Arik. “I will do much more when I come back.”

“If you come back,” frowned Sheri as she gazed at the array of weapons Arik and Wylan were carrying. “Where are you going?”

“Up north,” Arik answered vaguely. “And I will be back. Tagaret is to be my home. That is one thing that I can promise you. And the people will not suffer then.”

“You have a strong personality,” giggled Sheri. “I like that in a man. Will you look for me when you come back?”

“I will make sure that he does,” interjected Wylan as Arik nodded.

Arik let Chaco out of the stable and mounted him as he waited for Wylan.

“He didn’t say goodbye to me,” Sheri frowned. “I waited all night for him.”

“He is preoccupied,” shrugged Wylan. “This will be a very dangerous journey, and he has so many responsibilities. I am sure his mind is just elsewhere.”

“Responsibilities?” questioned Sheri. “What responsibilities?”

“We have to save the world,” grinned Wylan as he kissed Sheri.

Sheri’s face creased in confusion, as Wylan led his horse out of the stables. Arik started up the alley while Wylan mounted and followed him. Sheri ran out of the stables and watched them ride off.

* * *

Duke Tredor’s carriage turned at the gates to the Royal Palace instead of entering the palace grounds. He frowned as he looked out of the carriage window and saw the palace wall passing by. He gazed at his protective escort and saw that they were behaving normally. He was about to shout for one of the mercenaries and demand an explanation when the carriage halted in the alley alongside the Palace Shadow Inn. The carriage door opened and his escort hurried him out of the carriage.

“What is going on?” demanded Duke Tredor as he saw another carriage ahead of his blocking the alley.

The other carriage was jet black and appeared to have no windows. Without comment, his mercenary escort moved him towards the mysterious carriage and opened the door.

“Get in quickly,” whispered one of his mercenaries. “You must not be seen.”

Duke Tredor climbed into the carriage and turned to demand an explanation, but the door closed and the carriage began moving. He heard a bolt being thrown on the outside of the door as the carriage picked up speed. Duke Tredor slid across the plush seat and tried the other door. It too was locked. He sat back in the seat as perspiration began to form on his brow. It bothered him that he could not see out of the carriage. He wanted desperately to know where he was being taken. Suddenly it dawned on him that he could not hear the sounds of the city either. He moved close to the door and pressed ear against it. The only sound he could detect was the noise of the wheels rolling along the street and that was faint.

Duke Tredor began looking around the passenger compartment for any clues to his predicament. The carriage was new and boasted of great wealth. The seats were covered in the finest leather, and silk curtains flowed down the doors where the windows should have been. A long cabinet ran the width of the forward wall. Duke Tredor opened it. His eyes opened wide at the assortment of liquors. The most expensive brandies in the world sat on one side of the cabinet, and the finest vintages of wine occupied the other. Elegant crystal stemware was clasped in splendid velvet brackets in the middle of the cabinet.

Duke Tredor closed the cabinet and leaned back in his seat. He saw a long drawer at the base of the cabinet and leaned forward to open it. He frowned when the drawer would not open. As he ran his finger over the small brass keyhole in the center of the drawer, the carriage slowed to a halt. The bolt was thrown and the door was opened. A mercenary stuck his hand through the door opening to assist the councilor out of the carriage. Duke Tredor spurned the offered hand and climbed out himself. He had not spurned the assistance out of contempt, but because he did not want to betray his fear by exposing his shaking hand.

A feeling of relief ran through Duke Tredor as he recognized the mansion of Stafa Rakech before him. The relief faded almost instantly as he was surrounded by mercenaries. Without a word, the mercenaries herded Duke Tredor into the mansion and to the barren sitting room. Duke Tredor heard the door to the room close as he walked across the bare floor to sit in one of the small wooden chairs before the silkscreen window.

“Good morning, Duke Tredor,” came the voice from beyond the window.

“Is it?” Duke Tredor replied as he tried to stifle his fear and summon a feeling of indignation. “You could have extended an invitation to me rather than kidnap me.”

“Were you harmed by the method of transportation I provided?” inquired the voice.

“Harmed?” questioned the councilor. “No, I was not harmed, but I am offended at my shoddy treatment.”

“If you were not harmed,” mused Stafa Rakech, “you should consider yourself quite fortunate. Let us dispense with the trivialities of your trip and your feelings about my methods. Your actions are causing me a great deal of concern.”

“My actions?” echoed the councilor nervously. “What have I done to cause you concern?”

“You are part of the Council,” declared Stafa Rakech. “This Contest of Power is affecting my profits. Now, I understand that there is to be a new alignment of councilors. Is this correct?”

“The Council is always undergoing changes,” answered Duke Tredor as he wondered how much Stafa Rakech knew. “This is not something new.”

“When former enemies become partners,” scowled Stafa Rakech, “it creates problems for me. Where do you fit in with this new alignment?”

“I have little choice in the matter,” frowned Duke Tredor as he wondered how Stafa Rakech kept informed of the most secret deliberations of the Council. “I do not have the backing to stand against either one of them. Now that they have joined forces, all I can do is bide my time and wait for the chance of an opening.”

“So you are worthless then?” accused Stafa Rakech. “You are telling me that your worth is merely filling an empty seat?”

“My vote is worth as much as the next councilor’s,” frowned Duke Tredor.

“Ah so true,” agreed Stafa Rakech. “But that is what I just said. Your vote is worthless.”

“What do you mean?” inquired the councilor.

“The Council plays its ridiculous game,” explained the voice, “while Tagaret’s enemies converge on it. Unless the Council makes changes immediately to address the problems facing this city, I will have to move my operations elsewhere for safety. That is not something that I wish to do.”

“So you think these dire predictions posed by Queen Marta are accurate?” questioned Duke Tredor.

“Accurate?” echoed Stafa Rakech. “The queen only touched upon the forces that are converging on us. Unless something is done soon, Tagaret will cease to exist within the year.”

“If you think the Council is going to bow to Queen Marta,” scowled Duke Tredor, “you are wagering on the wrong horse. With Duke Graves and Duke Everich joining forces, the queen will be beheaded within a few days.”

“And you will be voting for this?” asked Stafa Rakech.

“I am always on the winning side,” smirked Duke Tredor. “Losers tend to die early in this city.”

“Well that troubles me greatly,” sighed Stafa Rakech. “That means I should start making my plans to move elsewhere.”

“If you think that is what you must do to survive,” shrugged Duke Tredor. “Frankly, I think the information the queen has is suspect. She does not possess the skill to rule the city in any event.”

“If there is one thing you should know,” warned Stafa Rakech, “it is that information is my business. When I say this city will be destroyed, you had best believe that it will be.”

“If you say so,” retorted Duke Tredor as he began to feel more secure in his position.

“I can see that there is no chance of making you see reason,” decided Stafa Rakech. “Very well, I shall make plans to liquidate my investments here in Tagaret. I trust you are ready for this?”

“Ready?” frowned Duke Tredor. “Ready for what?”

“To repay your debt to me,” stated Stafa Rakech. “It is quite a large debt if my memory serves me correctly. And it always does, if I might add. I shall summon a man to collect my money before you leave this room.”

“You can’t be serious,” gasped Duke Tredor. “I am not in a position to repay the debt right now. I need time to arrange that.”

“How much time?” asked Stafa Rakech.

“I am not sure,” Duke Tredor frowned as he tried to figure out where he could get the money.

“You cannot even sell your vote on the Council because you are blindly following the other fools,” chuckled Stafa Rakech. “Do you expect them to kindly have mercy for your plight?”

Duke Tredor bit his lip and stared at the floor. In the past he would have been able to bargain his vote to either Duke Graves or Duke Everich. Now that they had joined forces, that was not an option. Still, there must be a way to leverage his Council seat for some gold.

“I will need a few months to arrange for your money,” declared Duke Tredor.

“A few months?” shouted the normally soft-spoken Stafa Rakech. “Do you take me for a fool?”

Duke Tredor drew blood from his lip as he jumped in his chair. He turned around to see if the guards in the room had reacted to Stafa Rakech’s outrage.

“Let me explain your contract with me,” Stafa Rakech said softly, but firmly. “By the time of the Council meeting today, you will be without mercenaries. Your family will be thrown into the street, as your mansion will belong to me.”

“You can’t do that,” gasped Duke Tredor. “Where will we go? Who will protect us?”

“Protect you?” Stafa Rakech responded sternly. “Why should a councilor and his family need protection from the angry mobs of citizens that your careless rule is causing to starve to death? Do you really think those citizens, which you have voted to rob, would tear your apart with their bare hands?”

“Please don’t do this,” pleaded Duke Tredor. “I will find a way to repay you. I promise. You will get your money.”

“Your word is worthless to me,” Stafa Rakech shook his head.

“There must be something you want,” begged Duke Tredor as he pictured the angry mob gathering outside his estate. “I will do anything you want. Spare me, and you will find a willing servant. Please.”

“I do not care for business deals that end messily like this one,” sighed Stafa Rakech. “Perhaps there might be something we can agree on.”

“Anything,” offered Duke Tredor. “Anything at all.”

“My need to call in this loan is precipitated by the foolish moves of the Council,” mused Stafa Rakech. “Who on the Council would vote to begin building defenses? Is there anyone who would back the queen?”

“The Sordoans are the only two who believe in the queen,” frowned Duke Tredor. “There is no way that they will prevail.”

“The Sordoans,” Stafa Rakech repeated thoughtfully. “Very well, here is my deal. Your estate belongs to me now. Your mercenaries will follow my orders.”

“But that is no deal,” objected Duke Tredor nervously. “It still throws me to the mob.”