A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (48 page)

Marten took a silver goblet filled with a deep red wine and tried a tentative sip. He nodded in approval. “Uria is a favorite of the Eastern Realm nobility. The food in this section is usually quite good.” He cast his eyes back and forth among the revelers.

“Ah. My Lord Mayor.” Marten reached out his hand toward a handsome man in fine clothes of silk, richly cut and at the creeping edge of fashion. “May I introduce the woman who has done so much to aid your fine city?” He gestured in Maddi’s direction with a flourish. “Lord Mayor Callis Abreva, this is the Lady Doctor Maddi Conaleon, the woman your common folk now call Lifegiver.”

The mayor fell into a deep bow, his blond hair bouncing about his head in waves. “Madam, may I thank you for the compassion you have shown my people.” He gave Marten a sidelong look. “I have also heard of your wish to build a…how did you call it Tymin – a hospital?” Mayor Abreva spread his lips in a wide smile. “I only hope His Majesty approves so that we may begin construction immediately.”

Maddi curtsied, entirely uncomfortable with the act. “Thank you, My Lord. I will make certain the people of your city know that you deserve praise for your strong support of my mission.”

The mayor nodded with a grin. “You are indeed kind, my lady.”

Giving the mayor a short nod, Marten took Maddi’s elbow and led her out of the Urian section, and into a much different area. A soft mist only a few inches thick hung about the floor here, heavy enough to hide Maddi’s feet. The doctor stepped over to a small booth that sparkled like quartz crystals grown together in a cluster. He returned with two drinks in stemmed glasses – one glowed a faint green, the other a faint red.

“Apple or strawberry? The mages of the Isle of Wizards make a fine drink either way.”

Maddi took the red one, chancing a sip. The strawberries bloomed on her tongue.

“Delicious,” she said with a smile.

“Lord Doctor Marten…is that her?”

The commanding voice of a woman, rusty at its edges but still with a heart of steel, rang out from a cluster of yellow and blue-coated men. Marten tensed, and Maddi caught the faintest glimpse of a wince upon his face. When he spun about, however, he turned on his gracious charm.

“Your Grace,” the Lord Doctor said with a bow. “May the merriest of Midwinters come to you and to House Lindon.”

The woman wore her gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, wrapped in a net of blue lacquered tulips. She wore a simple but elegant dress of yellow wool. Her piercing eyes examined Maddi from head to toe.

Maddi tried another curtsy.

“You show balance, if not courtly training.” The woman narrowed her gaze further. “Yet you have the look of a Free City woman – a Derner if I’m not mistaken.”

Maddi curtsied again. “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Lord Doctor intervened with a gracious sweep of his hand. “Lady Doctor Maddi Conaleon, may I introduce Her Grace, the Duchess of Allanor.”

The wrinkled woman took Maddi’s hand in her firm grip. “You must bring your mission to my city. It is just across the delta.” She scowled at the Lord Doctor. “It is good to see that someone from that college has finally done some good for the people.”

The duchess turned her eyes back to Maddi, and her face softened with a matronly smile. “If the king fails to fund your hospital idea here in Daynon then rest assured I would do so in Allanor.”

Maddi bowed her head, squeezing the woman’s hand. “You honor me, Your Grace. Your people are lucky to have such a caring liege.”

The duchess cackled a harsh laugh. “You’ll do just fine in this court, my dear.” She floated away to be engulfed by her retainers.

Marten set his drink upon the tray of a passing servant. “Too sweet. Let’s visit the elvish island and see if they have anything stronger.”

The next area still maintained the low mist, but a cluster of potted pine and spruce trees closed around a hidden cove of wicker tables and chairs. Only a few guests gathered here, most of them couples desirous of seclusion.

“Here.” Marten picked up two small glasses of a clear liquid. “It is an elvish liquor – very strong.” He knocked it back in one gulp then gasped for air. “Do it quick…” he said, his breath caught in his throat.

Maddi followed his lead. The ice-cold liquor hit the back of her throat like a ball of fire. It burned going down, eventually mellowing as the warm sensation sank all the way to her toes. A strong hint of juniper hung in her nose. “Good.” Her voice came out far steadier than the doctor’s.

Marten opened his mouth to speak, but then paused. Maddi followed the line of his gaze to a couple sitting at a nearby table. A man with a shaven head flipped a gold mark along the back of his fingers. His companion wore long tresses of wavy, golden hair, her eyes sharp. Marten walked over, hand outstretched. “Gwelan Whitehand, what a rare surprise to see you in Daynon…and at the Midwinter Ball of all places.”

The man slipped the mark into his pocket, but hesitated before accepting Marten’s grip. “Lord Doctor.” He lifted a hand toward his companion. “May I introduce Jule Wynsor – a goldsmith in my employ.”

Jule offered a bright smile along with her hand to Maddi. “And you are?”

Maddi took her hand gladly, returning the smile. “Maddi Conaleon – I teach at the Doctor’s College.”

“What do you teach?” the woman asked.

“Just one class in herbology,” Maddi replied, seating herself in the chair Marten pulled out from the table. “I’ve really only been there a few months.”

Marten placed his hand upon her wrist. “Nonsense.” He waved a servant down with two glasses of sweet, elvish wine, handing one to Maddi. “You are one of our most promising new teachers, not to mention your work with the poor folk of Daynon.”

“Really?” Jule lifted her own wine glass in toast. “Gwelan told me rumors of you. Your work is most gracious.”

The man hoisted his clear liquor. “Indeed, it is.”

All four drank, though Maddi found herself uncomfortable with the attention. She looked about the room, searching for any excuse to change the subject.

Jule obliged her. “You teach herbology, you say. You may have something in common with Gwelan. He often obtains rare herbs for alchemists, doctors, and the like.”

The man nodded over his drink, keeping his arm wrapped around Jule’s shoulders. “That is, in fact, how I met the Lord Doctor in the first place.” He glanced at Marten. “What was it you were looking for, Marten? Sylipsis root?”

The Lord Doctor cleared his throat. “I do not remember. It was some time ago.”

Gwelan leaned forward, a slight smile on his lips. “It was but a few years ago, and that wasn’t the only time. What else has there been?”

Maddi curled a sly smile upon her lips. “Yes, Doctor. What else?” Her smile widened. “I’m familiar with a few purposes for sylipsis. Usually, elder nobles looking to make new sons seek it out.”

The Lord Doctor spluttered his wine in spray across the table. He coughed, to the great joy of Maddi and Gwelan. Jule offered him a cloth napkin.

“I needed it for research...” Marten sipped again from his wine, a slight blush visible in his cheeks even in the dim light. “…not for personal use.”

Reaching for his drink, Gwelan parted his lips to make another comment. Before he could speak, a plain faced man in severe, dark robes coalesced from the shadows behind Marten.

“My Lord Doctor, how good to see you. I had hoped we might have private words this evening.”

The thick, gold chain around the man’s neck looked familiar to Maddi. It held a pendant shaped like a quill pen with a sapphire-set feather. She also noticed the brief, acid glare from Gwelan Whitehand cast in the new arrival’s direction.

“Lord Chancellor.” Marten rose from his seat. “This is not the best of times for business.”

The chancellor lifted his nose and stared down it. “Any time is a good time for the business of the kingdom. As a Lord Privy, you should understand that quite well.”

Marten stared at the chancellor, before bowing his head in acquiescence. “Very well, My Lord.” He turned to Maddi, a conflicted expression on his face. “I am sorry, my dear. This should not take long.” Marten smiled at Gwelan and Jule. “I hope the two of you might offer the hospitality of your company while I deal with the needs of the realm.”

“Of course.” Jule patted Maddi’s hand and smiled. “I like her.”

The doctor snapped a sharp bow before he followed the chancellor off into the shadows behind the royal dais.

Maddi sat there for some time, laughing and talking with her new friends. First one glass of wine went down, then another of the juniper flavored shots. The next glass of sweet wine settled into her brain.

Gwelan stood up, downing the last of his own drink. “Come. Those roasted peppers in Hadon have been drifting to my nose all night. I would love one right now.”

Jule reached over from her seat. “Would you join us, Maddi?”

Shaking her head, Maddi stared off at the gray curtains. “I believe I’ll search for my escort.” She clasped a hand from each. “It was wonderful meeting you. I hope we see more of each other soon.”

She slipped away, careful with her steps.
I think I’ve had a few more to drink than I thought.
Maddi giggled then covered her lips with a hand.
Pull it together, girl. You’ve drunk more than this before.

She drew in a few deep breaths and rubbed her face to clear her mind. A servant bearing a water pitcher passed, and Maddi stopped him for a cup.

Pouring a long draught down her throat helped her focus. “Thank you.” She placed the cup on the tray, and the man bowed before returning to his rounds.

Scanning the crowd as she moved, Maddi made her way toward the rear of the hall. A few faces recognized her, including the Duchess of Allanor, who still maintained her gaggle of followers. She nodded politely to each person, but did not stop.

Peeking behind the curtain, Maddi saw long tables stacked with food and drink, dirty and clean dishes. Blue and silver liveried servants moved among them, dashing in and out to the floor. Along the far wall, an arched entryway opened, lit by glowglobes and guarded by a pair of billmen.
I don’t see them among the servants, so that has to be where they went.

Wending her way through the tables, Maddi averted her eyes from the few couples – nobles and common folk of both sexes – seeking privacy for more than just talk. The wet sounds of kisses floated to her ears, and the image of Lord Doctor Tymin Marten in far fewer clothes drifted into her mind. She had seen him in the slums without his shirt, when it had been splattered by blood. His smooth chest rippled when he moved, his shoulders thick with muscle. Marten had caught her looking that day, unable to shift her gaze quick enough.
Marten also surprised me with his heart. He works in the slums nearly as hard as I do.

At the entryway, however, the guards crossed their bill pikes.

She giggled and covered her lips in fake surprise.

The one with the second bronze pip of a corporal raised his hand. “I am sorry, My Lady. No admittance for guests.”

Maddi fanned her face with one hand, mocking the ladies she had seen in court. “Why my dear sirs, I do declare. I am the guest of the Lord Doctor Marten. I felt a little ill at the lack of his presence and have come to meet him.” She looked past their crossed weapons. “He asked me to meet him in private here after giving him a few minutes head start.”

The other guard moved his bill as if to let her through, but at a scowl from the corporal, he slammed it back into place. The guard softened his expression when he turned back to Maddi. “I am sorry, madam. The Lord Doctor did not command us to allow you through after him.”

Fluttering her eyes, Maddi gave the men a wounded expression. “Well, he must have forgotten, so great was his haste to conduct business with the Lord Chancellor.” Her gaze turned shy. “He hoped to find me awaiting him in his private office.”

The corporal looked at his subordinate, who shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly a harsh call came from an older woman directing servants like a general on a battlefield.

“Now, Rigby, don’t you know who this woman is? She’s the Lifegiver.” An element of awe crept into the servant’s voice when she said the name Maddi had grown to despise. “Don’t you owe her more respect?”

His face paling, the corporal lifted his bill. The other guard followed suit. “Excuse me, madam, I did not know.” He gestured inward. “Please, go ahead.”

Maddi nodded before taking a step into the entryway, but the soldier grabbed her hand first. It had to be the softest grip a guard had ever used on her.

“I have to say thank you, ma’am.” The corporal lifted his brows in earnest. “You saved my brother. We lost the lad to alcohol down in the gutters of Daynon. You healed him, and he came home to us.” He knelt down upon one knee. “He’s cleaned up and joinin’ the guard now. Thank you.” The soldier kissed her hand. “Thank you.”

A great discomfort crawled up Maddi’s spine. She forced a near look of revulsion into a smile of gratitude. “Please, sir, stand. I am just sorry that I was the first person to care about him, other than you.”

He nodded, and allowed Maddi to pull her hand away. She walked up the passage, hiding the mixed emotions that sought out her face.
Blast these people!

At the far end of the tunnel, Maddi exited into a wide gallery with tall windows along its curved outer wall. Long red curtains hung between them as they curled their way around the rear of the High Hall. A thin blade of light shone underneath a side door, one of several along the inner curve of the gallery. Maddi crept up to it, listening at the crack.

“…you swore it was for him alone. I do not like you having such a powerful poison unused. I do not trust you, Sammin.” The door muffled the voice of the Lord Doctor, but Maddi picked out his words. “You failed to give it to him when he visited the city, now it is time for you to return it to me. We will adjust our plan accordingly.”

Poison?

Maddi heard the chancellor cluck his tongue. “You need not concern yourself with that part of the arrangement. You have your role.” Something tinkled and thunked like a heavy purse tossed onto a desk. “That role has increased with this hospital idea of yours. I will keep the half of the money for use in the execution of our plan. The rest can go to your…pet project.”