Tales Of Grimea (13 page)

Percy and Adra were surprised when Hwosh
returned not with a bag, but with new information and a disguise.
Within a few minutes, their misery turned into elation. Percy
whooped, Adra did a little jig, and Hwosh remained composed as
usual. It would have been a lie to deny his happiness, however, and
the warrior knew that moment would stay with him for many long
years.

However, things took a sour turn when Hwosh
discovered it was his job to sneak into the council’s ball room and
let Percy and Adra in. “Look, I’m an old man and she has the
manners of a Ramlah Lizard,” Percy explained. “Neither of us has
any chance of fitting in as servants at all. You’re our best
chance, and when you’re given the poison, go show it to someone or
tell the mister Wedd himself, if you get a chance to.” Hwosh
grumbled, but there seemed to be precious little choice in the
matter.

So it was that a few hours later, Hwosh found
himself in an extravagant hall of chandeliers, gold and crystal,
balancing a silver tray in one hand and folding the other behind
his back. People spoke everywhere, and soft music was playing from
a crystal somewhere. The place was filled with men and women
dressed in beautiful clothing and made up with substances and
powders, and it took all of his discipline not to use his other
hand to brace himself against every incoming person, weaving around
instead. The scents of lavender, cinnamon and all manners of
perfumes mingled together, making the place seem like a garden of
flowers if one could but shut one’s eyes. The suit of beige with
golden patterns felt tight and itchy against his skin, and for the
second time in his life, Hwosh felt the pain of being ignored like
a piece of garbage on the side of the street. As he passed,
snippets of conversation drifted over to the warrior, some adding
to his disgust with the every flamboyant waste of money displayed
here instead of spent in the service of the masses:

“Lord Hutha, I’ve heard your new mansion
is…”

“Pooh, if they learned to pray more, perhaps
they’d be distracted from the…”

“But truly, our current taxes are poorly
invested in agrictult...”

“Knowledge is truly only fit for some. I say,
if they can grovel in the streets, then perhaps their time would be
better spent working than in school, don’t you think?”

By then, Hwosh had already let in his
friends, and he could see Percy walking about on the other side of
the hall, looking slightly green. The warrior felt sickened by some
of what he’d heard, and could not imagine how bad it was for his
friend, who could see into their thoughts. He excused himself for a
few minutes, and spent most of that time looking for Tamas Wedd
around the buildings many hallways and fancy rooms. If the man was
as drunk as he usually got in Splinter, there was a good chance he
wouldn’t be in the ballroom.

Just when he was about to give up, someone
called out to Hwosh from a ways off. Turning, he spotted a man
standing right by a small garden filled with rare flowers. “Where
have you been?” the man demanded as Hwosh remembered his supposed
job and ran towards him.

“My apologies, sire,” said the warrior,
turning his tone as pretentious yet grovelling as possible, as if
he were second only to this man. “Did you require something of
me?”

The man chuckled and whispered, “Yeah, that’s
better.” He slipped a small vial into Hwosh’s hand. “Almost didn’t
recognize the uniform. The guy is in the hall’s left corner, almost
asleep. Just put this in a wine glass and give it to him. Easy,
right?”

“Oh, sure.” The man’s green eyes narrowed,
and Hwosh caught himself. “I meant, most assuredly, your
greatness... I will see to it at once, and please you greatly.”

“Enough grovelling! Get to it or we’ll put
you back in the slums where you belong. Don’t forget us or our
father’s kindness. The man showed Hwosh a bronze medal, ranking him
as a low member of Mikhlab, with both impunity and a sickening
degree of deprived pleasure. The warrior bowed and left, hand
straying to where his string of beads would have dangled right next
to his ear, had he been allowed to have his bandanna on with such a
uniform.

This was the first true confirmation the
three had gotten that Mikhlab was directly involved in the
assassination attempt, for everything before had been inconclusive.
Now, they were sure, and Hwosh would be willing to swear it to
uncle Salim. Perhaps the old man couldn’t directly combat a crime
syndicate, but withdrawing his support would surely deal a heavy
blow to their operations. Uncle Salim wasn’t the most respected
merchant in town for nothing. All that was needed now was to warn
Wdd, get him to rally his guards and leave.

Once Hwosh was back in the kitchens, he asked
the woman in charge for extra glasses on his tray. The portly woman
eyed him suspiciously for a second then nodded with a wink, setting
her enormous pigtails flying. “You’ve worked hard enough today,”
she proclaimed, “I guess you earned a small reward.” As the tanned
warrior made his way to the banquet hall, tray laden with crystal
goblets and a vial of poison sitting sinister in one side pocket,
it occurred to him that madam Sal had thought the extra wine was
for him.

Hwosh was intent in his search, so much so
that a few lords and ladies gave him curious glances as he went. At
that point, however, camouflage was of minimal importance, and he
went hastily to find a man in need of saving. Just as he came in
sight of the thin man with his beady eyes and multiple chins
slumped over a sofa, a hand grabbed Hwosh by the shoulder. He spun
around and came face to face with Percy, who was looking deathly
pale. He might have had wide eyes, too, but Hwosh couldn’t tell
through his shaded spectacles. Percy dragged the warrior back
through the room, taking him through corridors until they came to
one which was darkened and empty.

“I’ve got the poison!” said Hwosh with almost
contained glee. “We can save the emissary, prove it was Mikhlab,
everything! There was a man with green eyes, and-“

“No, buddy,” retorted Percy. For the first
time, Hwosh realized how badly the man had been shaken. “It’s worse
than I thought. They didn’t want to kill him to start war, but to
stop it.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“That man, Tamas Wedd. He…” The words seemed
to pain Percy, and they left him looking like he’d had some more of
Adra’s medicine. “He was planning on starting a war all along. His
plan was to rope Lor into Indellekt’s side, and he was going to do
it using bribes and psionics. He was going to force them into doing
what he wanted, then reap the benefits. He’s bought enough weapons
for an army.”

“…money?” The man nodded in response. This
was too much. “But, all this effort to save him. Mikhlab-“

“They were in the right. I’m sorry Hwosh, but
letting him die would have been a right answer.”

Hwosh shook his head. “So… you want me to do
it? Kill him? I can’t do that, Percy.” It went against every
justice loving fibre in his body.

Percy looked almost resigned, but then he
perked up slightly. “At least, that’s what I thought until I
noticed how drunk the man was. There’s no need to kill him, buddy.
I’ll take care of it. I just need you to protect me until I’m done.
People will recognize what I’m doing and will try to rush me. Oh,
and Adra won’t be with us this time. At least, not until we start
running.”

The warrior thought about everything that had
gotten them to this point, as well as how many ways things could go
south. They didn’t even have a proper plan, this was all
improvised. Then he let it all go, because he realized his trust in
Persius Verde was complete. “Tell me what you need,” he said.

A few minutes later, an old man stood in the
middle of the ballroom, a few feet away from Lord Wedd. As the lord
slept peacefully, the man’s muscles went lax. He had dark
spectacles on his hawkish nose, and a few lords stated that they
needed to know where he’d gotten them, but if you could see behind
him, you’d notice they went vacant. If you saw his blue robe, you’d
wonder why a normal man from Indellekt was in such a prestigious
event. However, for the most part, the long haired man was
ignored.

Slowly, the lord stood from where he’d been
slumped over, despite the ungodly amount of alcohol in him. People
began to whisper as the lord, a lazy man at the best of times,
began to stretch almost experimentally, as if he were testing his
body. Despite swaying a little, he seemed to be in prime health.
Then he walked over to the table, grabbed a glass, and shattered it
on the floor with a massive crash. Everyone’s attention went his
way, many smiling at the mess he was making.

“My name,” he announced, “Is Tamas Wedd of
Indellekt, Her emissary to Lor,” people began to nod politely, and
somewhere some overly enthusiastic soul began to clap. “And I am a
traitor to my country, as well as a threat to Lor.” There was
stunned silence, and the man who had begun to clap stopped
abruptly. You could hear the tension in the air. “Using unlawful
methods and against the best interests of my employers, the ruling
council of Indellekt and the voting populace, I have moved to set
off a war in motion in between my land and that of Regalia.” Gasps
came from his ever increasing audience, which swelled as many came
from other rooms, prompted by whispers.

“Impossible!” someone shouted.

“Not so,” replied the lord, pushing away
those of his guards who tried to escort him away. His voice began
to raise. “I have proof in my room at Splinter, a Tavern here. Read
my meticulous records and you shall find proof against Lords
Kharuf, Himar, and Kalb of Lor, as well as Councilmen Ages, Sind…”
As the names were announced, each man or woman mentioned either
smiled in incredulous rage or promptly left the hall. Shouts began
to raise, saying that lord Wedd was under a spell. Fingers began to
point towards the perfectly still old man with the starry hat, and
guards moved to apprehend him. When the first reached, however, a
servant boy shot out of nowhere and smacked him upwards with a
tray, stealing his blade and fighting to protect the old man. Guard
after guard came, and despite the warrior being nicked here and
there, he was able to position himself and his charge well. As
guests began to flee in earnest, he stabbed, blocked, dodged, and
slashed, fending off one after the other. One particular strike
almost took him in the side, and yet he struck the flat of the
blade downwards with his own left palm, getting his attacker with
his pommel silently. All the while lord Wedd confessed, and when he
was done the warrior took his friend, grabbed a rather poorly
dressed brunette, and all three fled the premises, leaving the
palace in an uproar as smaller groups of guards mysteriously made
way.

When Hwosh, Percy, and Adra first ran, there
had to be more than fifty guards after them with pikes, blades and
spears. Percy did his best to distract them with visions of
obstacles while Hwosh carried him out, and from then on it became a
matter of dexterity and Adra’s knack for doing the unexpected. They
fled fast, knocking over anything they could find, and sooner or
later the three were lost in the chaos and almost a mile out from
the city, after having gotten together what they could from the
apartments. For Hwosh that meant his armour, blade, and an always
ready backpack of supplies. Percy and Adra had gotten almost
everything they owned, from teapots to crystals and even extra
clothes. They’d fled through the southern gate, turning westward
then to draw attention and to leave the sandstorms of Ramlah far
behind. Only then could the trio pause and catch their breath for a
while, finding a deep canyon to hide within. Red rock rose from
both directions, offering safety in darkness. Above, a half-moon
could be seen, offering enough light. Their fire was mostly there
for the warmth.

“What now?” wondered Hwosh when he could
breathe properly? “Sooner or later, the guards will know who you
are.” When the guards search Wedd’s rooms, they’ll find out enough
proof to have the man stand a long and arduous trial. War would be
averted, and with luck both Lor and Indellekt will take a long hard
look at the current requirements for hiring officials. All in all,
they had done well, but it came at a steep price.

“And circumstances aside, we’d be jailed for
what we did to an emissary,” agreed Adra. “But it sure was worth
it, no?”

“Aye,” added Percy, eliciting a laugh from
his lover, which infected him. Within instants the two were
laughing themselves silly whilst Hwosh watched. At long last they
quieted, Percy trying to brush dirt from his beard and her hair all
at once.

“So what do we do?” Asked Hwosh. In less than
a month, he’d been plunged into more mischief than he ever thought
possible. Moreover, they’d made an enemy of both the guards and
Mikhlab. Staying in Lor would be nothing short than a perpetual
wait for death. However, he knew nowhere else.

“Me and Percy have been thinking about
starting a business,” Adra informed him. Her red clothes made her
stand out in the light from the campfire they’d made. Hwosh thought
them being tracked was unlikely, but he still made sure their
camping spot was surrounded by high enough rock.

“What kind of business?”

“Candy flavoured medicine,” she answered,
taking the man aback. “The idea came to me from how often he tried
to pour his medicine down the plant pot. I spoke to a healer and
she said that if you make the medicine slightly less effective,
other tastes could be added for some of them. I’m thinking of
starting small, with pills that you suck to relieve stomach ache,
and work my way up.”

By then, Hwosh was thinking about it
seriously. “And how would you do it in Lor without drawing
attention?” his beads clattered and the fire sputtered as if in
turn. There was a small lizard speared on a stick just above the
licking flames.