Mandorin Salain watched from his throne as his son and his son's new bride appeared.
In setting the tenor of courtly events, nothing would be more important than these initial moments, when his son was received home again for the first time after his mission. A mission which had technically been failed. A result which could as easily said to be repugnant as beneficial.
The murmurs of the court began as Mandorin set his eyes upon... the woman.
He turned his head to one side briefly, regarding his wife.
Was he seeking strength? Guidance? Some measure of satisfaction, that his son had finally found a bride? Sharing his ire, and commiserating over a shared horror over who that bride was?
All of it.
He turned back to his son, and he could smell the crowd souring. It was a sense one got, after a lifetime at court. Courtiers, when gathered together, became a collective creature of their own. Influenced by the various personalities of those who comprised it, the court combined to have its own new mind. It had a cumulative motivation, and one could feel it roil and turn as events unfolded.
Right now, it was about to burst into revulsion- not of Aldebrand's bride- but of Aldebrand himself.
There was no way to surgically separate the two. If the bride was found to be insufficient, the groom would be found to be a fool.
And that was something Mandorin could not allow.
But then... then all was saved. A single gesture. A perfect gesture.
Austuce went forward. She took the train. And she took the sourness from the crowd. It was magic, the way one small gesture could turn yogurt to cream.
Mandorin did not smile, but a smile came to his eyes.
He stood, and felt his wife stand beside him.
"Welcome home, my Son," Mandorin declared, then added significantly, "and my daughter."
Additional murmurs spread through the hall.
"In two hours," he finished, "we feast, and will hear all about your travels. And we will come to know the newest member of House Salain."
Zara hadn’t been sure just when the Lord would appear in her room, but she had known he would. That was a fact, just like it was a fact that fire burns. What she hadn’t known was that he wouldn’t just knock on her door. No, he had used some kind of secret passageway. Now that was interesting information that she was sure her brother would be glad to know.
It would also allow Arkis to move freely without being seen as well, it played right into their plans.
"I hope I did not startle you," he said, a glint in his eyes. "I thought I should check on you, to make sure worry about the outlaw has not stolen your sleep..."
She of course acted startled, and gave a little gasp of surprise. Her hand went to her chest, as if clutching her heart at the intruder. When her eyes fell upon the Lord, she quickly blushed brightly and curtseyed to him. A lady of impeccable manners, an innocent small smile on her lips as she profusely apologized.
“Oh my Lord, you did give me a bit of a fright. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. This whole being away from home, and knowing that,” Zara leaned forward slightly and whispered to him, “that criminal is out there…”
She shuddered, but then pulled herself together for his Lordships visit. “I’m so sorry for my manners. I was just going to have a cup of tea. I was hoping it would allow me to get some rest. The worry had kept me awake.”
“Can I offer you a cup? I’d be very honored if you would stay….” Zara pretended that she didn’t realize the silk robes had fluttered open, and the candlelight would surely outline her flesh for his gaze.
"Get up and let the human go free," she commanded.
The lean and muscular black ddraig might have had the emotional intelligence of a human teenager, but that didn't make him any less dangerous as an opponent in a fight, but after allowing himself a few seconds of defiance, he did shift his body slightly, thus uncovering the depression in the ground where the girl was trapped. She scrambled out immediately and looked suitably terrified by the sight of not one but two of the enormous scaly monsters in front of her.
For a second it looked like she would faint but, remarkably, she stayed upright. Rhagarth could, no doubt, hear Gruudux chuckling with schadenfreude at the girl's terror. The girl, considered by the islanders a simpleton, could hear it too: in fact, she could hear the mindspeak of both dragons, intermingled with a third voice: one she heard sometimes when she was out alone collecting flowers on the grassy clifftops of the scarce remembered, seldom visited island.
She opened her mouth: perhaps to scream, perhaps to beg for mercy: for them not to gobble her up or burn her to a crisp, but, instead, strange words flew from her lips: old words in an ancient language that the young Gruudux knew not. The words echoed, mindspeak and oral speech at the same time, and the big, tough black ddraig drew back. "What witchery is this?!" he thought out loud.
The girl ignored him, for now, it was to the older she-dragon that she spake.
"Rhagarth, daughter of Menrath, Erais speaks through me!"
Well, a bold enough claim, and one that anyone could make, if they dared: but not one that would be expected from the lips an ignorant human child.
"The time is coming, Rhagarth, when Chaos will reign again, the Humans and the Ddraig will war across the whole of Aereth and Tar’garath will once again be empowered! The destruction of the Humans must be swift and absolute."
"What is she saying?!" asked Gruudux, unnerved.
"She needs me even less than I need her. Your ideas of Ddraig and Drakeri bondage are outmoded, Old One. I would as well have this retarded human half-form beneath my belly ride me, than her." he huffed in his mind-speak.
Rhagarth tilted her head and studied the younger Ddraig. She knew little of how the free-riders of Falcor dealt with their Ddraig companions and even less of Gruudux's history. It was apparent, however, that he strongly resented the Drakeri woman that was his wing-bond. She did not even want to contemplate how he was going to deal with the humans of Brydd when it came time for Wynn to follow her new husband to his homeland. She feared she was witnessing a disaster in the making.
Before addressing the youngster again, she turned her attention to the sounds emanating from beneath him. She allowed a bit of annoyance to creep into her lilting mindspeech, "Get up and let the human go free," she commanded. It was unheard of for a male Ddraig to openly challenge a female to combat, but Rhagarth was well aware of how strongly Gruudux resented being ordered by anyone.
Tags Javia
The Courtiers of Mandorin Dunaris, Marquis of Salain and his stately wife the Marquise, were unsure how to act: and life at court, even in the provinces, was little more than an act, after all. The ship bearing the son and heir of the March, and his...ugh... Dragon Rider bride had arrived after dusk and it had seemed more seemly that the two present themselves at court the next day in the full splendor of that heraldic ceremonial for which the Kingdom of Brydd was so famed.
But... well, you didn't just turn up for these events and stand there like a pudding: it was so very important to reflect the mood of the ruler: if the Marquis was pleased to see both Son and new Daughter-in-Law, one must stand thus, and pull this face and wear this colour garment to chime in with the ambience; but if the Marquis was furious with his son and new daughter-in-law, one must wear this colour and point one's toe thusly and fold one's arms like this and have a face like tripe. AND, Ceros Forbid, should the Marquis be pleased with the son but nonplussed with the barbarian girl, or vice versa, then Heaven knows what one should do!
But there had been no lead given, no clue as to the attitude they were supposed to adopt, before the couple entered the large assembly hall and approached the thrones of Mandorin and his Lady wife. A herald's formulaic cry rang out "His Lordship Sir Aldebrand and the Lady Wynn." He didn't attempt the other, unpronounceable, parts of her name.
The large doors creaked open at the far end of the Great Hall, a hush fell upon the assembled courtiers and each wished that he or she could turn one eye warily on their ruler, to try and divine his attitude to the returning Aldebrand, and one eye in the opposite direction, to assuage their curiosity about the appearance of the girl from beyond the Burning Sea.
At Aldebrand's side, Wynn was wearing an elegant and simple kirtle of plain colour and a mere circlet of silver about her brow: nothing like the elaborate and over-tailored costumes of the ladies of the court. A titter came from one fat, middle aged, but fashion-conscious woman. "Why, she is nothing but a peasant!"
At this vital juncture, the Lady Astuce, who, as Lady in Waiting to the Marquise, she who dressed the Marquise, and she who carried the Marquise's train, and who had become something of an arbiter of good taste and fashion sense at this provincial court, stepped suddenly from the crowd and curtsied low before Aldebrand and Wynn.
"My Lady, you needs must have someone carry your train at Court" she smiled and hurried to perform that subservient task for the outsider. To an observer from another land, this might have looked like a mere act of kindness: to the fawning courtiers it was a clear signal that an influential favourite had thrown her weight behind Sir Aldebrand and his alien young wife. The woman who had carped at Wynn's simple costume, now grew quiet as the couple approached the Marquis.
"She must believe that she has imbued you with a terrible purpose," Aldebrand said, "and does not want your end to come before that purpose is fulfilled."
Wynn nodded thoughtfully "I believe you are correct, husband" she agreed: she was beginning to admire her Lord as much for his wisdom as his bravery and, it could not be denied, handsome good looks. "I cannot but feel that I am but a pawn in some great game of eschec. Perhaps a pawn that has now reached a point so far behind enemy lines that she is become a Queen, and is consequently of value enough to be preserved by her player..." she said with a feeling of helplessness.
He shook his head, "But she is deceived. She may think that she works with soft clay, but I have seen your heart. It is Iron. And the workings of this sea witch shall not move such a heart against what is Just."
There was little Wynn could do, other than to cleave unto her husband. Words were useless now: he was her world and all her strength would be directed to supporting him: but what machinations were at work in this Aereth, and what part she might inadvertently play in them, she could hardly begin to guess.
+++
In the fens of far off Sask, the hideous marsh hag Anis waved her hand over a slimy pool of muddy water and its surface immediately shewed a bright mirror that reflected an image of the Salian Lord and his Dragon Rider bride, embracing upon the deck of a mighty galley. She chuckled and nodded and cackled: evidently well pleased, before waving her hideous claw-like hand over the pool again.
The scene changed: she was now looking at a grotesque sea monster, even uglier than her self which, however, as it dried on the rocks of some distant shore, changed imperceptivity to shew the face of beautiful Lady of the Court. Anis spoke into the pool and the creature at the other end of the world spake back to her through this muddy medium.
"Daughter, you have done well!" said Anis, giving rare praise. Not that driving off a Kraken and lifting a drowning human out of peril was a difficult job for a monster like Astuce. No, what was really impressive was that the ravenous animal had resisted the temptation to eat both Wynn and Aldebrand while they were beneath the waves. Astuce's tummy growled even now, and some poor benighted Mother in the local town would find herself short of a baby or child ere the dawn broke.
"I hunger Mother! I hunger!" spat back the mer-hag, now completely transformed into a picture false beauty "You promised me I should have both of them!!"
"In time, daughter, in time! Patience! Follow my plan. You know what to do?" growled back the great witch.
With hooded eyes, the comely Astuce nodded.
"It was her..."
Aldebrand's mouth fell open as Wynn recounted her emerging memory. The mysterious figure in the depths? That had been the one who'd abused Wynn?
Would that he had known! He'd have taken dear Wynn and plunged a blade into that creature's heart in thanks.
Aldebrand's mind reeled at the meaning of it all. Although he was not the sharpest of the Salains, he was not quite the slouch he imagined himself to be in matters of deception and intrigue. He might not know how to deceive others, but he had seen many such machinations in play. Enough to recognize them.
"She must believe that she has imbued you with a terrible purpose," Aldebrand said, "and does not want your end to come before that purpose is fulfilled."
He shook his head, "But she is deceived. She may think that she works with soft clay, but I have seen your heart. It is Iron. And the workings of this sea witch shall not move such a heart against what is Just."
Aldebrand had always trusted in his strength to carry him through any challenge. He could not now imagine that his wife's strength would fail. Surely there was no magic in the world of men, the skies of dragonkind, or the realms of the sea that would cause a good person to turn against their heart.
And so, with this surety of thought, Aldebrand prepared to continue a voyage that would ultimately bring his new bride to the very heart of the Kingdon's power...
Akris sat in a chair outside the door to Zara's bedchamber. Standing might be more intimidating but he had found that letting his body relax while keeping his senses alert allowed him to function much longer than someone who stood simply for standing's sake. The sound of a mechanism and something moving brought his head around to stare at the door. Akris flowed to his feet and stood at the thick wooden panel...listening intently.
"I hope I did not startle you," he said, a glint in his eyes. "I thought I should check on you, to make sure worry about the outlaw has not stolen your sleep..."
Akris' visage hardened as he heard the lord's voice. He could not decipher the words, but somehow the old lech had made his way into her room. Akris exhaled and focused himself. She was doing her part...she had only promised him an hour and no more to accomplish his part of the mission. The Sand Devil turned in a silent whirl of robes and strode across the capacious suite of rooms.
Akris came to a stop before the huge double doors leading to the Lord's bedchamber and work area. He knelt and looked at the thick metal box that housed the handles and lock. It was complex and old, as befitting someone of his stature. Akris slid a hand into his robe and came out with a thin throwing dagger. He inserted the tip into the keyhole on this side and moved it about a bit, then pushed so the key inserted from the other side fell onto the carpet with a soft thump.
Akris hid the dagger again and stood. His eyes closed and he crossed his arms over his chest as he concentrated and called upon the gift that had been taught him. Several seconds later he threw his arms up and out, his body dissolving into a swirling man sized tornado of sand. It stayed in place and then bent, entering the keyhole and passing through to pour out of the keyhole and into the floor on the other side...once the sand stopped pouring, the pile swirled upward to a man's height, then resolved into the shape of Akris. He raised his head and slowly opened his eyes and lowered his arms as he exhaled, gathering himself after the transition. He bent and picked up the key and replaced it in the lock before he moved into the room, beginning a rapid but thorough check of the rooms, looking for anything that might be useful to their cause. Akris did quickly locate the secret passage to the other bedchamber...leaving it the way he found it but now knowing to listen for the returning Lord while he went about his mission.
While his sister had the more unpalatable job for the evening, Zaiden was left to his own devices in their assigned suite of rooms.
As was so often the case in diplomatic encounters, everyone thought they were getting what they wanted from everyone else. But only one party would truly get ahead. In theory, Zaiden was getting his sister into a protected position while a criminal ran loose in the vicinity. In theory, the Lord of the Blackfort had graciously offered that protection in order to get access to a succulent foreign fruit. In reality, Zaiden's sister would conquer by being conquered. Her seduction of the aged Lord would gain their party access to the Lord's secrets. Hopefully, some would be purloined successfully.
Much rested upon the hands of their protector, a contracted assassin who'd been assigned as their bodyguard. And there, too, competing interests danced. Zaiden had believed they were getting a loyal operative in addition to a guardian. His sister would be counting on the Sand Devil to seep into the Lord's private places and secure valuable intelligence. But only the Devil himself knew his true intentions. To their mutual dismay, Zaiden and his sister had recently discovered that the Devil they knew might be more dangerous than the devils they didn't.
On a mission like this, a man who couldn't be trusted to follow orders was a bear-trap waiting to snap.
Perhaps it was no accident. Perhaps their grandfather had other, secret orders for the Devil.
But if so, Zaiden could not fathom how that could be to anyone's benefit.
____________________
In the suite of the Lord Reeve Piotr Mindolin, it did not take long for the old man's lusty nature and ultimate plan to be revealed.
While Akris stood guard over the room, activity began in Zara's bedchamber. A cabinet of clothes moved on a set of faint ruts in the stone, its passage greased to be silent. Behind the cabinet, the frail, elderly frame of Piotr Mindolin. He looked even frailer than usual in his bed robe, which left precious little to fill out a body that had only a handful of years left to enjoy the world before it became food for worms. There was some evidence that he had once been a powerful figure. But the faded echoes of yesterday's glory could not conceal the frailty which Zara now beheld.
Behind the Lord, a narrow passage stretched behind the wall... a secret hall connecting one room to the next. Doubtless the Lord had used this passage to avail himself of many female guests over the years.
"I hope I did not startle you," he said, a glint in his eyes. "I thought I should check on you, to make sure worry about the outlaw has not stolen your sleep..."
With the Lord of the Blackfort here, the rest of the rooms in the Lord's suite were vacant.
Unprotected and vulnerable.
Wynn opened her eyes... and thanked the Gods of the Drakeri that she saw Aldebrand there.
"I am here, my love. And whatever this was... it seems to have ended."
"I remember..." was all she could say right now, coughing up the sickening salty seawater still.
He looked to the servant.
"You have my eternal gratitude."
The girl didn't say anything, she knew the new Lord of her Lady could not understand her babble. Instead she flashed a smile, a truly happy smile that they were both alive and well and pointed to Wynn, as if to say 'look after her, while I go' and then she dashed off below deck to find warm wine to fortify the two impromptu deep sea divers.
"It was her..." Wynn finally managed to say "The monster that lifted me up: it was she who took me under the sea, the month before we met. I did not dream it. It was she..." she caught her breath. "But why did she help me, My Love?... help us both, today? I think... I think that it was she who saw off the Kraken..."