Rage of a Demon King (21 page)

“But, Your Grace,” said Roo, as he sat uncomfortably before the Duke of Krondor. “I can send a message to Lord Vasarius—”

“No, I think you need to go in person.”

Roo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to tell me what this is about, are you?”

“What you don’t know can’t be tortured out of you, can it?”

Roo didn’t care for that answer. “When do you wish me to leave?”

“Next week. I have a few things I must do before then, and then off you’ll go. It’ll be a short trip, don’t worry.”

Roo stood. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now good day.”

“Good day, my lord,” said Roo, and his tone showed he was less than pleased to have to endure another visit with his erstwhile partner. It wasn’t that Lord Vasarius was not a hospitable man, but his idea of hospitality was to bore his guest with interminable stories over bad food and wine. And that daughter of his! Roo thought she was enough to make him give up women. Then he thought of Sylvia, and he amended that to almost enough to make him give up women.

As he left the Duke’s private chambers, another door opened and a squire said, “Lord Vencar, Your Grace.”

“Send him in, please.”

A moment later, Arutha entered the room, still covered with road dust. “Father,” he said in greeting.

James kissed his son on the cheek. “Is it done?”

Arutha grinned and for a moment James saw a hint of himself in his son. “It’s done.”

James struck his fist into the palm of his left hand. “Finally! Something is going our way. Is Nakor willing?”

“More than willing,” said Arutha. “That madman would have done it simply for the pleasure of seeing the faces of those other magicians when it happens,
I’m certain, but he also understands we have to protect our southern flank.”

James regarded the map in his office. “That’s one problem.”

“There’s another,” said Arutha.

“What?”

“I want Jimmy and Dash out of the city.”

James waved away the request. “I need them here.”

“I mean it, Father. They have your impossible sense of immortality, and if you leave it up to them, they’ll cut things too close and be trapped in the city when it falls. You know that’s true.”

James studied his son’s face, and sighed. He sat behind the desk and said, “All right. When the Queen’s fleet is sighted off Land’s End, send them away. Where do you want them to go?”

“Their mother is visiting family in Roldem.”

“That’s convenient,” said James dryly.

“Very,” said Arutha. “Look, you and I stand scant chance of surviving this. You can lie to me, even yourself, but you can’t lie to Mother.”

James nodded.

“She’s had a look on her face I’ve not seen before, ever, and I’ve seen her go through most everything I can imagine.” He met his father’s gaze with an unwavering one in return and said, “Being a member of your family provides ample opportunity to test one’s temperament.”

James grinned, and for a moment he looked like the young father who had told stories of Jimmy the Hand when Arutha was a child. “But it’s never been dull, has it?”

Arutha shook his head. “Never that.” Then he studied his father. “You’re staying to the end, aren’t you?”

James said, “This is my home. I was born here.” If there was any regret in his statement, he hid it well.

“You plan on dying here?”

James said, “I don’t
plan
on dying, but if I must, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He slapped the desk with the palm of his hand. “Look, there are a lot of things we can’t plan on, and staying alive until tomorrow is one of them. Life has shown me all too often it’s a fragile gift. Remember, no one gets out of life alive.” He stood up. “Go get refreshed and come have dinner with me. Your mother will be pleased to see you again. If I can get word to your sons we’ll have a family dinner.”

“That would be nice,” said Arutha.

He left, and after the door was closed, James crossed the room to another door, slipping through. He moved down a corridor to a small door where he had to duck his head to pass through. Down a flight of twisting stairs and through another long corridor. He reached a door and tested the handle, finding it locked. He knocked twice, then when a single knock came from the other side, he knocked again. The latch clicked and the door swung open.

Behind the door he found Dash and Jimmy, and a pair of men wearing unmarked uniforms and black hoods with eye slits. Inside the room, instruments of torture were waiting, and along the wall empty shackles hung. A man sat tied to a heavy wooden chair, his head slumped forward on his chest.

“Anything?” asked James.

“Nothing,” said Dash.

“Get back to your employer. I’ve just told him you’re going to Queg again. He’s not very happy and
will be even less so when he discovers you’re not at the office doing whatever it is he pays you to do.”

Dash said, “Queg? Again?”

James nodded. “I’ll explain latter.”

As Dash reached the door, James said, “Oh, by the way, your father’s back, so join us for dinner tonight.”

Dash nodded and the door closed. His grandfather said to Jimmy, “Revive him.”

Jimmy threw a cup of water into the man’s face and he roused. James grabbed the man by the hair and looked him in the eyes. “Your masters would have been kinder had they not put those blocks around your mind. My wife lies abed with a nasty headache and that puts me in a foul temper. So we must do this the old-fashioned way.”

He nodded to the two torturers. They knew their craft and quickly and efficiently set about applying the tools of their trade. The prisoner, an agent of the Emerald Queen picked up the day before, began to scream.

Roo attempted to look alert as Vasarius told a remarkably boring story of a deal negotiated with a trading combine from the Free Cities. The story itself didn’t hold Roo’s attention. He was more curious about matters of business than anyone he knew, and the particulars of the trade were unusual, but Vasarius managed to tell the story in the most convoluted, tedious way, denuding it of anything remotely like personality, color, or humor. What held Roo’s interest was the very ineptitude of his storytelling. Roo at this point no longer had any idea who the principals were, why they were enmeshed in this
contract, or even what the transaction was about, or why this story was supposed to be funny, but he was certain that with a little urging on his part, Vasarius could make it even more pointless and rambling before he finished.

“And then?” Roo supplied, causing Vasarius to launch into another parenthetical exposition on some topic that was, to him and him alone in the world, somehow relevant. Roo let his gaze wander to Livia, who seemed to be involved in some sort of silent communication with Jimmy. Roo wasn’t sure, but the girl seemed somehow put out with Roo’s personal secretary, and Roo wondered what had passed between them on their last visit. To hear Jimmy tell it, he had been the complete gentleman, even to the point of ignoring hints that
might
have led to a sexual encounter.

Aware suddenly that Vasarius had become silent, Roo said, “My, my. How fascinating,” without missing a beat.

“Very,” said the Quegan noble. “You don’t play fast and loose with Lord Venchenzo’s cargo and then go brag on it.”

Roo thought he better discreetly ask around who Lord Venchenzo might be, so if the topic ever came up again he might have at least a hint to what this story had been about.

The meal was at last over, and Vasarius sent Jimmy off with his daughter and offered Roo a rather decent brandy. “It’s one of the ones you were kind enough to send me,” explained the Quegan noble.

Roo thought he’d have to send him something a little better, against the possibility he was going to be ordered back here one more time. After they had
sipped the brandy, Vasarius asked, “What’s the real reason for your visit?”

Roo said, “Well, I do need additional oil.”

“You could have sent me a purchase order, Rupert. You didn’t need to come here personally.”

Roo looked into his cup. As if weighing his words, he hesitated; the truth was James had rehearsed him relentlessly until he was perfect in what he was to say next: “Actually, I need a favor.”

“What is it?”

“I’m sure your Empire has agents, or at least ‘friends’ who pass along certain types of intelligence.”

“I would be insulting you if I claimed otherwise. No nation on Midkemia is without such resources.”

“Then you may have wondered about the buildup of military forces in the Kingdom.”

“It has come to our attention that a great many military projects are under way.”

Roo sighed. “The truth is there are reports from Kingdom agents in Kesh that the Emperor is thinking of reclaiming the Vale of Dreams.”

Vasarius shrugged. “So what else is new? The Kingdom and Kesh fight over the Vale like two sisters over a favorite gown.”

“There’s a bit more. It looks like Kesh may launch a full assault toward Krondor, with an eye to cutting off all roads between Krondor and Land’s End.”

Vasarius said, “If true, that would isolate Land’s End.”

“Not to mention cutting off Shamata and Landreth, and giving the Empire control of Stardock.”

“Ah,” said Vasarius. “The magicians.”

Roo nodded. “The Kingdom considers them something of an unknown factor.”

“As well you should,” said Vasarius. “We have our own magicians, here within the Empire, but all are willing servants of the Imperial court.”

Roo mentally added the “or else they’re dead” part.

Vasarius continued. “That many magicians, unsupervised, could prove troublesome.”

“Well, be that as it may, the point is we’re going to be putting men and materiel into Krondor in abundance. We’re going to be shipping troops from Ylith and other pats of Yabon, as well as in from the Far Coast.”

“You still haven’t given me any inkling of what this has to do with me.”

“I’m coming to that.” Roo cleared his throat dramatically. “We need to protect certain critical shipments and, well, it would benefit us if they were carried on Quegan ships, as the Empire of Great Kesh is less likely to expect such cargo to be carried on Quegan galleys.”

“Ah,” said Vasarius, and fell silent.

“I need a dozen heavily armed war galleys in Carse by the third week after Banapis.”

“A dozen!” Vasarius’s eyes widened. “What are you carrying?”

“Weapons and other items.”

Roo could see the eyes of the man spinning with greed. Roo knew that Vasarius was assuming it was a huge shipment of gold, coming down from the Grey Towers, mined by the dwarves and exchanged for Kingdom goods, to be shipped to Krondor to pay
soldiers. Which was exactly what Duke James wanted him to think. Roo knew Vasarius would assume twelve war galleys were far too much security for a weapons shipment.

Vasarius said, “Which means they’d have to leave here three weeks before the Festival of Midsummer.” He calculated. “That would put them in the Straits of Darkness about Midsummer’s Day. It would mean you need the gold in Krondor two months after Midsummer.”

“More or less,” said Roo, pretending to ignore Vasarius’s reference to the gold.

“A dozen Imperial Galleys will prove costly.”

“How costly?” asked Roo.

Vasarius gave him a figure, and Roo haggled halfheartedly in an attempt to look as if he was trying to beat down the price. Roo knew that the gold would never be paid to Queg, because Vasarius intended to steal the shipment, and there wasn’t any gold in any event. There would be six hundred hostile ships showing up about then, however. And Roo knew that Vasarius wouldn’t send twelve galleys, he’d send every one he controlled, which could amount to two dozen or better, if he could recall them to Queg in time to pass along orders.

They talked into the night, and Roo wished the brandy was better. Absently he wondered how Jimmy was getting on with Livia.

Jimmy licked the blood on his lip and said, “What?”

Livia slapped him again and then bit him had on the neck as she said, “Oh, I wish you barbarians spoke a civilized tongue!”

The girl sat astride Jimmy, with her toga pulled down around her waist. Jimmy was drunk on drugged wine and trying to keep his wits, but the combination of narcotics, alcohol, and a young, healthy, half-naked woman attempting to have sex with him was making it difficult for him to keep his focus. It was all he could do to pretend he didn’t understand her language.

At some point Jimmy got the impression that Livia was furious with him for not having tried to make love to her on their last visit. He was certain that was more for the lost opportunity of rejecting him than for any lust for him, but given how temperamental this Quegan lady was, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. At the present it was clear that she was trying to prove a different point to him, one which seemed to involve a lot of slapping, some biting, and a lot of promises that he would never be able to make love to another woman after having Livia. In a semicomatose state, Jimmy fervently hoped the last was not true. Though the way she was jumping up and down on him made him think there might be enough permanent damage to prevent him from being interested in testing the claim for some time to come.

He said, “Enough!” and tried to sit up, which got him another ringing slap across the face. As tears came to his eyes, Livia stated tearing his clothing off.

Somewhere along the way he remembered getting serious scratches on his back and buttocks, and at another point someone—a servant he thought—threw a bucket of very hot water on them, followed by one that was very cold. Then Livia was doing interesting things with a feather and a jelly made from gooseberries.

Finally, as they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, she mumbled something about never having known anyone like him. Jimmy never considered himself a lady’s man, for although he loved women and their company, having a grandmother who read minds taught a young man things about women few men even imagined. For years every time he glanced at a comely wench with a lustful intent, his grandmother would drag him off for a lecture on his attitude toward women. It took a while, but he finally came to look upon women as friends and enemies, just like men, except when he was sleeping with them, when they were decidedly unlike men, for which he was eternally grateful.