Nightmares
by Hallan Mirayas
Previously…
Rickkter sifted through the red-stained snow where Linafex and his daughter
had fallen, their bodies cleared away for burning. He'd felt and recognized
the pulse of a soul gem being activated, and he knew it had to be around here
somewhere... Another hand closed on it first, plunged into the snow only an
arm's length from where he'd been searching, and the raccoon mage glared when
he recognized its owner. "Malger Sutt," he spat.
The marten sifted snow from around the gem in his hand, his jade green
finery wrapped in a protective heavy cloak that shadowed his features, reducing
his visibility down to the faintly glowing gem in the marten's hand. An
unworried, even rakish, smile and slight, though not mocking, bow accompanied
it. "I'm somewhat surprised you didn't notice me approach, Rickkter."
The comment stung, and Rickkter snarled as he drew up, unsheathing his
katana and bringing it to bear on the insufferable minstrel-turned-archduke.
"Give that to me," he demanded, flicking his eyes to the stone, then back to
meet the marten's. "Now. It needs to be destroyed."
Malger took a single step back out of reach, acknowledging the threat, but
his free hand did not yet stray toward the tassled swords at his own hips.
Rickkter knew he was highly skilled with those blades, perhaps even his
superior in their specific use, but Sutt had no magic to round out his
vulnerabilities. "No." The marten shook his head and tucked the stone away in
the folds of his doublet. "The Lady Nocturna insists that the daedress
Alexastra remain captive for the time being, for her own safety."
One of Rickkter's folded ears twitched up in curiosity as he regarded the
fop only a single blade's length, one quick lunge, beyond the tip of his
katana. "By what right?" he growled as the snow whipped around them both,
dusting the marten's sable fur with white and turning his dark green cloak into
a pine in a winter forest.
The marten's smile remained, but a hint of hardness slipped into his
expression. "By the right of a mother for her child, stolen at birth and
hidden from her for four thousand years," he shot back.
Both of Rickkter's ears snapped up and forward. "... She's what?"
Startled eyes squinted again as a stinging gust of wind whipped the marten's
fur and clothing, though the marten himself did not move.
"The mother of she who has been captured within this gem. As I just said."
Malger twisted the clasp of the gem-holding pocket closed and placed a hand
protectively across it. "Were the occasion different, I would willingly hand
this over, but right now releasing her would be far too dangerous."
"Dangerous? To whom?"
Malger's smile finished fading to a firm seriousness. "To her, Rickkter,
and by extension, all of us. Many fates rest upon this fulcrum. One error and
the lever will shift to the detriment of all. We must wait."
"For what?" Rickkter fairly yelled into the wind which, at that moment,
chose to ebb and turn his snarl into the echoing bark of an angry beast.
"For the proper time." His smile returning, Malger held up one hand, an
upraised finger begging a moment's abeyance. "And, until that time, Raven must
not know, Lord Rickkter. She would be a weight on the wrong end of the lever
were she to discover too early." His hand lowering, Malger stepped forward
until the tip of Rickkter's unwavering blade rested lightly against his breast;
against the gleaming silver crescent moon of his faith to Nocturna, daedra
goddess of dreams and nightmares, bringer of omens. And prophecy. "Trust,
milord, that when such time comes to release her from the stone, both you and
Lothanasa Raven will be there, on my word of faith to Nocturna and upon my very
title. I will let you know when I am prepared and then the Lothanasa. Until
then, I will see it kept hidden away where it can harm no-one."
Rickkter snarled, his ears once more backing, and slammed his katana neatly
back into its scabbard without taking his eyes from the insufferable royal and
nightmare worshiper. "Very well, archduke, I will bear this silence. But play
me false and I'll see you part company with your overdressed head."
Malger actually laughed and bowed more deeply, this time very much mocking,
"Very well. Within the year, milord, if not sooner. Trust."
"-is a fragile thing." Rickkter growled as he turned about and stalked back
into the howl of wind and snow.
-----
May 26, 708 CR
"Very well," the Duke replied as the briefing concluded. "Then let us
move on to the other matter on the agenda." While Misha carefully returned the
teeth to the bag, the Duke and the Duchess settled back into their thrones, and
he shared a long glance with her before turning his dark brown eyes on Malger
Sutt. "Namely, the other extremely dangerous creature you propose to return
to my city."
Malger nodded in reply, then reached into a pocket and drew forth something
held in a closed fist. Turning it upward, an opened hand revealed a sharply
faceted stone the size of a robin's egg, green as emerald but as opaque and
clouded as jade. Rickkter and Raven both stiffened, as did everyone else in
the room when Raven identified it. "The soul gem Arkos Linafex used." The
she-wolf's eyes fixed on the marten like hawk talons. "I assume there is an
excellent reason you have not destroyed it yet." Her frozen tone implied that
there had certainly better be.
Malger nodded. "Timing, Lothanasa. If its occupant were released too
soon, she would have gone after her better half immediately and been destroyed
at Revonos' hands… or worse, under the fangs and claws of her own beloved.
The Lady Nocturna foresaw this as the most favorable moment, neither earlier
nor later. Her time is now."
"Alexis Nightwind," came a dusky voice from a shadowy corner of the
ceiling, belonging to the spymaster Andwyn. "Also known as Anastasia Fletcher
and the Caravan Cat."
"And Deborah of Aldemar," added another. Heads turned. Madog had, as he
often did, arrived without sound or notice. He now sat next to the Duke's
chair, blue eyes fixed peaceably but cautiously on the green gem. Duke Thomas
gestured for everyone to relax, while part of him marveled not for the first
time how a mechanical metal fox could so readily display readable emotion… when
it wanted to. The rest of him wondered where, or more likely when, Madog had
encountered this woman. If 'of Aldemar' meant what he thought it did, then it
referenced a town that had been a ruin before the fall of the Sieulman Empire.
Malger's eyes met the Duke's and he nodded in knowing agreement. "Yes,
she is known by all of those and more, but she is more properly known as the
daedress Alexastra."
Raven's hand slid to her hip to rest on the pommel of Elemacil.
"Alexastra. Anastasia. Alexis. Those sound like names for a servant of
Agemnos, not of Nocturna." The Lord of Greed was well known for giving his
minions voluminous and ostentatious names.
A shadow flickered across the marten's face, but it vanished as quickly as
it had appeared. "Former servant," he corrected. "She altered her
allegiance a month prior to her incarceration."
Rickkter pondered the gem as if appraising it anew. "A daughter stolen and
hidden, I believe you said."
A murmur rippled through the room accompanied by widened eyes and
up-pricked ears, all except for Malger's. "That is a subject I would
appreciate not discussing, Rickkter," he replied with careful coolness,
"especially not in front of her. She does not know. It would be dangerous."
"To whom?"
"To her."
The Duke cleared his throat. "We wander from the point of this meeting,”
he said with a sigh, waving one hand for Malger to continue. “You ask not only
for her release, but for her continued presence to be allowed in my kingdom.
Given what you've said of the conditions for a mind trapped inside one of
those, I'll freely grant the first for the sake of mercy, but the second will
require more persuasion."
Malger turned to offer a short bow toward the Duke. "Firstly, Lord Thomas,
she will present no harm to you. She has sworn an oath, and I will see it
renewed before you. Secondly, as Andwyn can attest, you would have great
difficulty keeping her out," Malger continued with a sardonic twitch along one
side of his muzzle, "and I do not think it is in Metamor's best interests to
try. Banning her from keep and kingdom is a provocation she would not suffer
lightly, even with her oath of neutrality. Lastly, my Lady has foreseen that
her presence will be vital to deciphering the tangled riddle that has been made
of this Beast of Revonos, who is expected to have significant importance to the
fates of several here in Metamor.” He paused for dramatic effect, tail
sweeping slowly side to side behind him as he glanced from the Duke to the
Lothanasa, and then Rickkter. “If he does not go mad or kill himself first,
after causing incalculable destruction as he does."
"I see." Duke Thomas settled back in his chair, fingers steepled, taking
in the eyes of each person in the room. "You've all given your input on why
or why not she should be allowed to stay, but I would now like to hear her own
reasons directly." He gestured, and a contingent of guards entered, taking up
position around the ducal dais. "Stand ready, but let her make the first move
for good or ill. I have no doubt she will be disoriented. Rickkter, if you
would do the honors?" Misha and Raven moved to join the protective cordon
around the Duke, weapons drawn. Misha held Whisper in a firm, aggressive
stance while Raven merely drew her gods-touched blade, placed it tip-down
before her, and rested both of her hands upon the pommel. Rickkter drew his
blades and stepped forward, but Malger slid smoothly to interpose himself.
“Your grace, as I will be her patron, I would like to be the first visage she
takes in upon emerging.” He gave the scowling raccoon a beatific smile that
showed many sharp white teeth against the brown of his muzzle. “I daresay
should she be presented with one of our foremost warriors, her judgments may
skew toward reacting in expectation of attack before anything else. After all,
when she befell the trap which ensnares her, she was in battle with all here
who bare weapons, save myself.”
Thomas cast his somber equine gaze around to the assembled. Misha merely
shrugged and Raven gave a short nod, her sharp lupine gaze narrowed at Malger,
distrusting whatever game he was playing. She had no history to give her
suspicion that he may have ulterior motives but he had two strikes against him
that she could not overcome: the first was that he was the son of a
bloodthirsty conqueror; the second was the silver crescent of his faith, worn
openly upon the breast of his storm grey raiment. Rickkter’s gaze was on the
Duke but he could only shrug, as had Misha. He saw no need to gainsay the
marten, as he could remove himself to a more defensive location before the
daedra was unleashed rather than standing muzzle to muzzle with it.
“As you will, then.” Thomas said with a wave of one hand, settling back
into his seat, both thick quasi-equine hands gripping the arms of the chair.
Alberta placed one of her hands atop his, seeming to feel more at ease.
Considering the wolf, raccoon, and fox were among the best warriors, not to
mention users of magic, were there in defense of royals and realm and even the
marten, bereft of magic but no less skilled with his twin blades, was capable
what calamity was there to fear.
With a deep bow from the waist Malger took a step back, away from the
throne, and turned toward the cleared space in the center of the chamber. As
he had requested there was no circle of containment, no wards, no magics to
restrain the daedra upon its release. Merely cold, unadorned stone clean of
rushes or rugs. Kneeling, he drew the gleaming crystal from some pocket of his
doublet and set it upon the stone. From another pocket he drew forth a simple
chisel, large and blocky in the manner of a stonemason rather than jeweler, and
a mallet of similar design.
Resting the chisel against a smooth facet of the crystal, he raised the
mallet to strike.
-----
Date Unknown
She had called in every favor. Mined dry every resource. Leveraged to
the hilt every scrap of information, innuendo, and blackmail that she'd ever
come across. All to create this one opportunity. This one chance. The
horizon beyond the hills glowed like fire, a fire that terrified her to her
very core, but it was their last chance. Their only chance. With just a few
more steps, she and Drift would be-
Alexis' world exploded in pain as a jagged, fractured blade stabbed through
her, severing her spine at the waist. As she collapsed, half-spinning on legs
in their very last spasm, she saw Drift thrashing in the air like a hooked
fish, white-furred fists pounding at a black-mailed arm gripped around his
throat. It lifted. It squeezed. Alexis flung her hand out, trying
desperately to conjure forth something, anything that might-
CRACK!
"Too slow," Lord Revonos sneered as he dropped Drift's broken body in a
crumpled heap. Head lolling, brown eyes lifeless and staring-
"Damnation!" Alexastra swore, banishing the illusion with a slash of her
hand. The spinning top on the table beside her spun on, unceasing, uncaring.
Again. Again! She had failed again! How many times would it take to find a
way through? Nocturna had said there would be-
CRACK!
Alexastra's head snapped up in alarm as glowing green cracks spiderwebbed
through the space around her. "No!" she protested. "Not ye-"
CRACK!!
She shielded her eyes as the light grew blinding…
-----
The dense wood mallet met the flattened metal cap of the chisel with a
muffled crack that became a sharp, subtle, tinkling sound like paper-thin glass
shattering as the edge of the chisel bit into the ensorcelled stone. It was
the last subtle thing to happen for the next several minutes, a frozen moment
in time before an ear-straining peal and a blinding green flash shook the room
and struck spots into the vision of those not quick enough to shield their
gaze. At the center of it all, the crystal crumbled to dust as Malger
staggered back from it, blinded and deafened. Above it, a shape coalesced…
-----
Reality twisted sideways and dropped out from under her. Fire roared down
her back as she crashed onto a bare stone floor, a pained grunt jerked through
gritted teeth. The impact reopened the claw slashes Thestilus' three-story drop
kick had inflicted. Not content with that indignity, it also reawakened an
army of bruises and lesser cuts all across her body. Bright sunlight seared
eyes that had been adapted to a clouded winter night a moment before, and water
begin to trickle through her fur as storm-driven snow flash-melted in sudden
heat.
"Ow," she squeaked, her lungs in rebellion. Severed senses screamed,
forcing her to wrest them back under her control with an effort of will. A
mind that swore the fight was ages ago warred with a body that had battled for
its life mere seconds past, and vertigo spun the world around her. The two
realities tangled in a snarl for which Alexastra knew instinctively she didn't
have time. She pushed her weariness away with an effort that left her shaking,
and clung to her presence on the mortal plane by her battered, bloodied
fingernails.
And then it got worse. Her eyes were still blinded but her nose was
working fine, and it told her where she was and who was around her. Spice,
incense, several variations of musk, oiled metal and seasoned leather, all
underlain by the faint hint of petrichor peculiar to Metamor Keep. She bit
back a curse that would have smoked the air around her, coughed to clear her
lungs, and shoved that pain into a closet in her mind. The door bowed and the
hinges creaked, but they held. For now.
Calm. Confidence. Poise.
She had anticipated this. Prepared for this. This was an acceptable
part of The Plan. The next part involved not getting stabbed, shot, or
bisected. Propping herself up on an elbow, Alexastra hooked a clawed thumb
under the collar of her leather armor and tugged forth a crescent moon
medallion on a fine silver chain. "A moment's respite, if you please," she
continued, showing her empty hands palm-out before carefully reaching from a
pocket. When her watchers tensed, she moved slower and spoke to reassure
them. "It's not a weapon, but a tool. I need to be certain you're real."
Her fingertips fished a small metal top from a pocket, seemingly a simple
child's toy made of unmarked and unremarkable metal, and set it spinning on the
floor before her. "One can never be too careful after spending time in a soul
stone. Please do not interfere." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a
gray-garbed someone make a confirming gesture, but she pressed everything
around her out of her mind. Focusing all of her attention and will on the
spinning tool before her, she silently demanded that the top keep spinning.
Spinning eternally. If this was still a dream, she still had time. Time to
think. Time to plan. Time to come up with any way to survive crossing
purposes with the Lord of Rage-
The faint tinkle of metal toppling onto stone sounded a death knell for her
chances. Forcibly repressing an instinctive shiver of terror at what she knew
she was now up against, Alexastra steadied her features and tucked the tool
away with the ease of practiced motion. There would be time to process the
enormity of her new challenges later. Right now, she had mortals to deal
with. There was, at least, one good sign: none of them had attacked her on
sight. Yet.
Finally, she looked up and took in her surroundings. The chamber was
spartan, bereft of furnishings, but a half dozen guards in the livery of
Metamor flanked the dais upon which the royal stallion and mare sat. Before
that throne stood the wolf Lightbringer priestess, grounded sword before her,
and the fox hunter with his black axe in hand stood beside her. Between them
sat the irritating sight of a gleaming fox, a large feral form made entirely of
metal, whom she knew very well indeed. The raccoon battlemage she could smell
but not see; he was certain to be in a tactically sound location somewhere
behind her, just as the spymaster was above.
Closer than all of them, though, stood a tall, lanky brown furred figure
wearing a rich doublet of a deep stormcloud grey over a surcoat of black upon
which rested a silver crescent moon necklace, a double to her own. In one hand
he held a wooden mallet and in the other a stonecutter’s chisel. So. This was
Nocturna's favored, and he was the one who had shattered the soul stone and
released her. At least that motive was readily apparent.
Calm. Confidence. Poise.
Shifting her gaze past him, Alexastra levered herself into a half-seated
position, then forced herself to stand in spite of her spine's screaming
protests. With a practiced flick of a clasp, her belt of daggers swung loose
and was carefully handed over to the marten once he'd put the mallet and chisel
away. “Archduke Sutt,” she intoned, wincing inwardly at the raspy creak of her
normally smooth soprano. "I entrust these to you for this parley, along with
my gratitude for my release. I will remember you."
Spreading her wings around her like a skirt as she dipped into as deep a
curtsey toward the dais as her back would allow, Alexastra then swept them up
around herself like a dark leather cape, arms crossed over her chest to frame
her silver crescent between the darkness of her wrists and the saffron of her
neck ruff. Appearances were important. The meltwater still trickling through
her fur and dripping to the floor subtly marred the effect, but that was
something she could work to her advantage with the right turn of phrase.
"Lord Thomas, Lady Alberta, Lothanasa, I am Alexastra, servant of the Lady
Nocturna. By the High Lord and the Dark Prince of the planes beyond, I state
and affirm my oath of neutrality. I bring you no omen, offer you no threat,
and intend you no harm. In the name of the Lady Nocturna, I request safe
harbor," she intoned, allowing herself to sound just a touch out of breath as
if she had just been fighting a few minutes before. Which, to be fair, she
had. "I ask only to remain in peace while I seek someone of great importance
to me."
How long had it been for them? Years? A decade? More?
No, not a decade. They were too little changed. A handful of years, most
likely. Remarkable.
"My apologies for the state you find me in; as you can see, I've had a busy
evening." She raised a finger to flick some droplets drooping from the
whiskers above her right eye, then asked the most immediately important
question. "If it please you, may I inquire what the date is?"
-----
May 22, 708 CR
Three months. Her eyes widened, and a glance to Archduke Sutt confirmed
it. Only three months. Somehow, they'd gotten him out after only three
months. Incredible. That was the only explanation she could fathom for why
she would have been released at any time other than immediately. She would
have to ask how they had managed that, but later. For now, there was but one
single priority. She locked her muscles against an exhaustion-fueled wobble,
snapped her gaze back the Duke, and gimlet eyes sliced down to the unspoken
truth with the ruthless precision of a battlefield scalpel. "You have him."
"Yes."
"I will see him. At the soonest possibility." Her words came out clipped,
but she had to see. Had to see what damage had been done to her Edward. And
there would be damage. That had been Lord Revonos' aura that night, make no
mistake, and the Lord of Rage was not gentle with those who drew his interest.
In the corner of her eye, the Archduke bristled, and several pairs of eyes
narrowed across the room. Good. As planned.
"He is not in a condition for viewing," Duke Thomas said with a shake of
his head, settling back in his throne as if closing the door on that
conversation.
"Of that I have no doubt," Alexastra retorted, then visibly checked
herself, taking a moment to breathe and return her ears to an upright position.
Carefully… "Again, my apologies. As I said, I have had a long night: one
that, for you, was months ago, but to me that crisis point was mere minutes
ago, and things were not going well." She closed her eyes and took another
breath, deliberately allowing herself to settle. "The rush of battle is an
untrustworthy ally, a fragile reed upon which to rely." The well-practiced
mantra relaxed her muscles and steadied her stance. Her eyes opened again.
"But with all due respect to the Lothanasa and the Battle Lord-" she flicked an
ear in the direction of the raccoon behind her, "-I am very clearly the most
well-trained and best-equipped person to assess what has been done to my Edward
within a hundred days' travel.
"To that end, great Duke and Duchess…" Alexastra unfurled her wings and
swept them before her with a flourish, and a writing desk materialized from
thin air before her, tilted toward the dais. Upon it coalesced a curl of
vellum, a gleaming raven's quill, and a reservoir of ink the color of night
itself. "I propose to you a deal." A flash of anger narrowed the Lothanasa's
eyes, and Alexastra heard leather gloves tighten behind her. Reaction is good,
now backtrack… Holding her hands up in placation, Alexastra swept the desk
away in a waft of smoke with a flick of her fingers and an apologetic bow of
her head. "My apologies: old habits. Please… allow me to rephrase." Folding
her hands together and steepling them against her chin, Alexastra furrowed her
brow in consideration. When next she spoke, her words came slow and weighty.
"The question that I need to be asking… is not 'what do you want', but… what
can I offer you in exchange for what I want?" She glanced to the wolf
priestess. "Is that more acceptable, Lothanasa Hin'Elric?"
Raven's grip loosened fractionally on the hilt of her mithril blade, but
her eyes remained narrowed and suspicious.
Guarded acceptance in response to an admission of a weakened position,
without pushing for more. Good. I can work with this. Now to move into the
endgame of this negotiation.
Returning her attention to the Duke and Duchess, Alexastra laid out the
best hand of cards she'd been dealt in more than a year. "I offer you skills
and experience honed over millennia, training unmatched by any of the
operatives of your peers. I offer you the most traceless of infiltrations, the
deftest of intrigues, the most subtle of sabotages. Information gathering
worthy of an Emperor, coupled with capabilities that none of your other spies
can match, all unhampered by the tattletale signs of the Metamor Curse." Her
eyes locked onto those of Duke Thomas and did not waver. "In short, I offer
you my services, under the direct supervision of Spymaster Andwyn and thus
under you, for as long as my Edward lives." Alexastra's chin lifted slightly
as a thin smile of challenge ghosted across her lips. "This is not an offer
that any of you or your next hundred generations of descendants are likely to
see again. Shall I retire while you consider it?"
A snort behind her signaled Rickkter's entry into the conversation. "You
speak very boldly for someone who is clearly beat to ribbons and in the company
of at least two who could, in your current state, kill you one-on-one."
Alexastra did not turn, her attention still fully on the Duke, but she
answered over her shoulder. "As the saying goes, rattling a sword in its
scabbard makes noise: drawing it does not. If you had intended to attack me,
you would have done so already. Also, I can give three very good reasons why
you should not. Firstly, you would offend the Lady Nocturna by attacking an
agent of hers who negotiates with you unarmed, in good faith, and under oath of
truce. Secondly, injured I may be, but I assure you I still have enough left
in me to make any victory you might achieve by assaulting me ruinously
pyrrhic." Her eyes narrowed, and her voice grew harsh. "Lastly, I have not
thrown dice against the Master Gambler himself with both Edward's and my lives
on the line to be stopped by anything you can bring against me. That I promise
you. But…" She took a breath. Her voice mellowed, her hackles settled, and
the black eyes of an angry daedress faded to the chocolate brown of a
Metamorian flying fox. "Conflict between us serves no purpose to anyone but
the enemies of everyone in this room. You have something I want, Duke Hassan:
the life of my Edward and the time and facilities to try to redress all that
has been done to him. I have something you want: the talents, connections,
training, and skills of a spy beyond anything you would ever find in this
mortal realm. Your enemies might as well have protected their secrets with a
paper box and some string, and I offer them to you as grapes on a platter."
Duke Thomas returned her gaze unflinching, his expression closed and
inscrutable for the few long moments he took to consider the proposition. Then
he picked up her offered cards and swept them from the table with the finality
of a headsman's axe. "Absolutely not."
Alexastra felt the ground drop out from under her, heard the door holding
back her anxiety and pain creak and groan as the room spun. What? Her lips
moved, tried to form the words, but she had no air. How? Why?
The Lord of Metamor's eyes narrowed. "If you were caught-"
"Wouldn't happen," Alexastra flailed against the sudden undertow, but the
Duke trampled her protest.
"If. You. Were. Caught. Metamor would be accused of conspiring with
daedra. Never mind that you are of Nocturna; those arrayed against us could
use that as a spur to isolate us, or worse, to lay the starting embers of a
holy war. Diplomatic catastrophe."
"It wouldn't-"
"NO. This discussion is ended." The Duke rose to his feet, preparing to
leave. "With all respect, Archduke, I-"
"Wait!" The force Alexastra injected into that word nearly took her off
her feet. With one hand outstretched in supplication, she grasped at the one
final strand of straw remaining to her. Her legs buckled, dropping her to her
knees as they refused to support her, all her energy now reserved for keeping
her head clear enough to speak. "The daedra…" she panted, "the daedra have a
word for 'falling in love with a mortal'. It includes connotations of handing
all of your secrets and possessions over to your worst enemy and then flinging
yourself headfirst off a cliff into a pit of barbed, poisonous spikes.
Intellectually speaking, it rhymes with 'insanity'." The effort exhausted her,
and her hand fell. Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "And yet... here I
am. You mortals are a summer mist to us, here one moment and gone the next.
You are creatures of a day." Taking a breath, she marshalled everything she
had left to keep the Duke in this room, in this conversation, in this moment.
"And yet... in that one day... how some of you live! That was my Edward, my
candle in the dark: so fragile, so fleeting… but he was beautiful and he was
wonderful and he was mine. I upended my world for him, risked everything I had
for him, gambled everything that I am. For him! I. Need. Him!" The words
echoed in the suddenly silent room.
This was the last ditch. This was her back to the wall. Her voice
dropped, her eyes narrowed to slits, and every word ground through gritted
teeth with all the menace of an ancient creature pushed to its last extremity.
"I will pay whatever price you are willing to ask that is within my power to
give if it allows me to care for and tend to him. You will not see an offer
like this again," she growled. "Not in all the lifespans of all the worlds.
"Choose. Carefully."
Duke Thomas took a long, slow breath as he rubbed his powerful equine chin
slowly with one hand. The other rested upon the arm of his impromptu throne,
Lady Alberta’s hand resting upon his forearm. “Indeed, this is an unprecedented
offer and… an opportunity, of sorts. One of such a weight that I must take
time to consider and confer with my advisors.” Dark, troubled eyes shifted
their focus slightly to one side. "Your grace, what say you?”
Malger turned toward the high seat and sketched a deep genuflection only a
mustelid’s long spine could offer, his tail giving a horizontal flourish. “My
matron was most adamant on this point, sire. For once the portents were not
ambiguous riddles; she bids us aid this woman, for all that she is of the
darker planes. In her stead, I proffer my word of conduct, as she has again
sworn her oath of peace before us all, and specifically to you directly.”
Thomas breathed a heavy sigh. “Very well, your grace.” Releasing his
chin, he gave a slight dismissive flick of his thick, blunt fingertips.
“Conduct her to a suite and see that she is cared for, but kept under watchful
guard. I will confer and, with luck, decide upon a course of action before the
dawn.”
Again the pine marten bent with a flourish of foppish attire and tail,
despite his station actually outranking the equine Duke to whom he bowed. “I
will see to it, your grace. I will house her within my own residences, though
I gladly accept any you wish to share in her guarding.”
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