Rage of a Demon King (11 page)

Kitty came and leaned in to Erik and he slipped his arm around her waist. “What did he mean, ‘Something’s going on’?”

Erik turned and kissed her. “You catch spies, and you want me to talk about secrets?”

She nodded, resting her cheek against his chest. “I sometimes think I know what is going on, Erik, as I piece together bits of things heard here and there. Other times I’m not sure even what I’m doing here. Since Bobby died I often think I’m in one of those
places the priests talk about, one of the lesser hells. I can’t leave the inn unless I’ve a pair of guards with me. The Mockers have put the death mark on me, but they’re the only family I’ve known.”

Erik couldn’t think of anything to say. He hugged her. “If I get some time off soon, I’ll take you somewhere, someplace different, away from the city.”

She clung to him a minute, then said, “I have to get back.”

He walked toward the rear door of the inn and removed his arm from around her waist when they got there. Saying nothing, he followed her inside. She silently moved through the kitchen and took her usual station behind the bar.

Jadow Shati and Owen Greylock still sat at the table, but Roo had departed.

“Where’s Roo?” Erik asked as he sat.

“When you didn’t come back, he, Jimmy, and Dash left. Something about an important appointment,” answered Greylock.

“Did Nakor find you?” asked Jadow innocently.

“Yes,” answered Erik as he sat.

“Not at too awkward a moment, I hope,” said Jadow, his face splitting into a wide grin.

Erik blushed and said, “No.”

“That’s good,” said Jadow. Then he exploded into a laugh so infectious Greylock and Erik were forced to join in.

Kitty approached with a fresh pitcher of ale. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

Her tone was one of potential injury, and her expression spoke volumes: if she was the butt of some joke told by Erik, some brag of conquest, no repair would ever be possible to the damage done.

Adroitly Greylock said, “Nakor,” and started to laugh again.

“Oh,” said Kitty, as if that explained everything. She smiled at Erik and he returned the smile.

After she left, Jadow said, “So there is something going on with you two?”

Erik nodded. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

Greylock held up his fresh ale, as if in a toast. “That’s serious.”

Jadow nodded sagely. “Very serious, man. It can only be one thing.”

“What?” said Erik, a tone of worry in his voice.

“Oh, man, he does have it bad,” said Jadow. “That’s the truth,” answered Greylock.

“What?” demanded Erik.

Greylock said, “Never been in love before?”

Jadow retorted, “He’s too stupid to know if he has.”

Erik sat back and said, “I guess not.” His brow furrowed and he stared into his ale as if he’d find an answer in it. Then suddenly he grinned and looked at the faces of his two friends. “I guess not.”

He turned to gaze at Kitty, who was busy cleaning behind the bar, talking quietly with another of the working girls, then turned back to his friends. “I’m in love,” he said as if it were a revelation.

Suddenly Greylock and Jadow couldn’t contain themselves and started laughing again. After the mirth died, Jadow said, “Come on, boy. You need another drink.”

Greylock shook his head and sighed. “Ah, to be young again.”

Erik just sat silently, wondering at all the odd feelings of delight and uncertainty within. He stole a
glance at Kitty and saw her watching him. He smiled at her and she returned it, and he felt joyous inside.

Then, while Jadow and Greylock exchanged witty remarks, a dark cloud descended over Erik, as he considered the coming battle. How could be afford the time for anything other than that, he wondered to himself.

Sylvia bit Roo playfully on the neck.

“Ow,” he said, half in jest, half in real pain. “That was too hard.”

She pouted. “I need to punish you. You’ve been gone too long.”

She snuggled down into the crook of his arm as he said, “I know. The closer we get—” He caught himself. He was about to say “to the invasion.”

“Closer to what?” she asked, very attentively.

He studied her face in the candlelight. He had come to her house late and they had gone straight to bed. Her father was away on business, she said, so he planned on spending the entire night, rather than returning to his town house before dawn, as was his habit when Jacob Esterbrook was at home. Thinking about what he had found about her father’s advantage over Roo’s companies in trade with Great Kesh, he again wondered if he was saying anything that she was repeating to her father. He pushed aside the concern. “I mean, as I get closer to this goal I have, controlling all shipping on the Bitter Sea, I seem to have less time for anything else.”

She bit him on the shoulder again, this time hard enough to make him genuinely cry out. “Explain that to your wife,” she said, indicating the teeth marks she’d left. She got out of bed, and Roo marveled at
the sight of her naked body. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered, and in the light of the single candle she seemed sculpted from living marble, without flaw. He thought about his own wife’s pudgy body, without a hint of strength in the muscle, the marks on her left by childbirth, and he found himself astonished by his ability to make love to Karli.

As Sylvia put on her robe, he said, “What’s gotten into you?”

“You have time to spend with Helen Jacoby, but you spend days away from me.”

Roo said, “You can’t possibly be jealous of Helen?”

“Why not?” She turned, an accusatory expression on her face as he sat up in her bed. “You spend time with her. She’s not unattractive in a rawboned peasant-girl fashion. You’ve mentioned you respect her wit, far too many times for my liking.”

Roo got out of bed, and said, “I killed her husband, Sylvia. I owe her some comfort. But I have never touched her.”

“You’d like touching her, I wager,” said Sylvia.

Roo tried to put his arms around her, but she brushed him aside and moved away. “Sylvia, you’re being unfair.”

“I’m being unfair?” she said, turning and allowing her robe to fall open.

Roo found himself beginning to become aroused at the sight of her.

“You’re the man with the wife, children, and reputation. I was one of the most eligible daughters in the Kingdom until I met you.” Pouting, she moved toward him, letting her breasts rub against his bare
chest as she said, “I’m the mistress. I’m the woman of no status. You can leave whenever you want.” Her hand began tracing small circles on his stomach.

Roo’s breath came hard as he said, “I would never leave you, Sylvia.”

Reaching down, she stroked him and said, “I know.”

He pulled off her robe and carried her so quickly to the bed he almost tossed her onto the covers. Quickly taking her, he pleaded his undying love while Sylvia looked at the canopy overhead, fighting off a yawn. A self-satisfied smile then formed on her lips that had nothing to do with physical pleasure, and everything to do with power. Roo was on his way to being the most important merchant in the history of the Kingdom, and he was clearly under her power. She listened to Roo breathe more rapidly as his passion mounted, and she detached herself from the experience. The novelty of his lovemaking had long since worn off, and she preferred the talents of his cousin Duncan, who was far more attractive, and whose appetite for inventive love play matched her own.

She knew Roo would be appalled to discover that she and Duncan often shared this bed, and occasionally invited one of the servants to participate as well. She knew that Duncan would be malleable as long as he had access to fine clothing, good fond, rare wine, pretty women, and the trappings of prosperity. He would make a fine lover after she wed Roo, and a completely socially acceptable replacement for him one day. As Roo neared the pinnacle of his ardor, Sylvia absently wondered how long she need wait to wed the repellent little man after she arranged the murder of his fat wife. At the thought of taking control of both her father’s financial
empire and Roo’s, Sylvia found her own passion mounting at last, and as Roo could control himself no longer, Sylvia joined him in a paroxysm of release, imagining herself as the most powerful woman in Kingdom history.

Erik knocked on the door and William looked up. “Yes, Sergeant Major?”

“If you have a minute, sir?” he asked.

William waved him to a chair and Erik sat. “What is it?”

“Nothing to do with training,” said Erik. “That’s going well. It’s a personal matter.”

William sat back. His expression was neutral. While serving together, each man had occasionally let the other glimpse some facet of his personal life, but neither had intentionally opened a conversation on a personal subject. “I’m listening,” said the Knight-Marshal of Krondor.

“I know this girl, and, well, if you don’t mind, I just need to talk about being a soldier and getting married.”

William said nothing for a moment, then he nodded. “It’s a difficult choice. Some handle family matters well. Others don’t.” He paused. “The man who held this office before me, Gardan, was once a sergeant like yourself. He served Lord Borric, Duke of Crydee, when my father was a child there. He came to Krondor with Prince Arutha and rose to this office. All the while he was married.”

“How did he do with it?”

“Well, all things considered,” said William. “He had some children, one of whom became a soldier like him. He died in the sacking of the Far Coast.”

Remembering what his stepfather, Nathan, had told him of those days, Erik knew that many had died during those raids. “Gardan was already dead by then. Some of the other children survived, I believe.”

William rose and closed the door behind Erik, and came to sit on the edge of his desk. Erik noticed that apart from the formal tabard of his office, the Knight-Marshal elected to wear a common soldier’s uniform, without markings of rank. “Look, with what’s coming . . .” William began. He fought for words, then said, “Is any sort of relationship wise?”

“Wise or not, I have it,” said Erik. “I’ve never felt this way before about a girl.”

William smiled, and for a moment Erik saw years drop from the man. “I remember.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, have you ever been married, sir?”

“No,” said William, and there was a hint of regret in his voice. “My life never seemed to have room for a family.”

He moved to his own chair and sat. “Truth to tell, my family hasn’t had much room for me.”

“Your father?” asked Erik.

William nodded. “Time was we didn’t speak to each other from anger. We’ve since gotten over that. But it’s hard. If you’d ever met my father, you’d think he was my son. He looks but ten years older than you.” William sighed. “The ironic thing, it turns out, was that becoming a soldier, as I did, had been his own boyhood dream. He insisted I study magic.”

William smiled. “Can you imagine growing up somewhere where everyone practices magic, or is married to someone who does, or is the son or daughter of someone who does?”

Erik shook his head. “It must run in your family, though. I met your sister.”

William smiled ruefully. “Another irony. Gamina’s adopted into our family. And she’s far more adept at things magical than I.

“I have one pitiful talent. I can speak with animals. They tend toward short, uninteresting conversations. Except Fantus, of course.”

At mention of the firedrake, Erik said, “I haven’t seen him around the palace lately.”

“He comes and goes as it pleases him. And if I ask him where he’s been, he pointedly ignores me.”

Erik said, “I still don’t feel any closer to a decision than I did before.”

William said, “I know that feeling, too. There was a young magician from Stardock, a girl from the desert stock of the Jal-Pur, who came to study with my father when I was a boy. She was two years older than I.

“She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, dark skin and eyes the color of coffee. She moved like a dancer and her laughter was musical.

“I was smitten the first time I saw her. She knew me as the Master’s son, Pug’s boy, and she knew I was infatuated with her. I followed her around, making a pest of myself. She put up with me with good grace, but after a while I think I wore her nerves thin.”

William gazed out the window that overlooked the courtyard and said, “I think her indifference to my plight was one of the big reasons I chose to leave Stardock and come to Krondor.” He smiled in remembrance. “She came two years later.”

Erik raised an eyebrow in question.

“Prince Arutha’s father had a magical adviser, a wonderful old character named Kulgan. Far from the most powerful magician around, he may have been among the most intelligent. He was like a grandfather to me in many ways. His death hit my father very hard. Anyway, Prince Arutha decided he wanted a magical adviser in his court, so he asked Pug to send his best to Krondor. Father surprised everyone by sending her instead of one of the masters; I thought at first he was sending her to check up on me.” He smiled ruefully in memory.

William was almost laughing as he went on, “You can imagine the consternation among the nobles when she showed up and turned out not only to be Keshian, but to be distantly related to one of the most powerful noble lords among the desertmen of the Jal-Pur. It took Prince Arutha’s iron will to force the court into accepting her.”

William sighed. “Things got very difficult here the day she showed up, some things I can’t talk about, but suffice it to say by the time we were done she and I had learned we were very different people than we had been at Stardock. We also discovered that my feelings hadn’t changed, and I was astonished to discover that the two years apart had changed the way she looked at me. We became lovers.”

Erik said nothing for a moment as William became lost in a moment of remembering.

“We were together for six years.”

“What happened?”

“She died.”

Erik said, “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

“I don’t,” interrupted William.

Erik looked uncomfortable. “Well, I’ll go, sir. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.”