Oracle (Book 5) (7 page)

“
Talin’s Ashes
,” Mainz swore. His face was red, his bushy gray eyebrows knotted in anger. “I’m not talking about the blasted
tea
. I’m talking about this whole meeting. It’s a waste of our time.”

“I’m sorry you think so.” Maklavir’s voice was exceptionally cool. He took a sip of his tea.

“Mainz has a point.” One of the other men, a Merewithian lord named Erbritter, raised his own teacup. “We’ve been at this for hours, Maklavir. It’s quite apparent that you have nothing of substance to offer us.”

Maklavir set his tea back down and dabbed his mouth daintily with a napkin. “With respect, Lord Erbritter, that is hardly true. I have outlined several important ways that King Luxium has proposed to—”

“The King? He’s under siege right now along with the rest of his court up in Varnost.” The third nobleman, a scarred old warrior named Krampf, crossed his arms. “You’re being pressed, Maklavir. Kalinglanders on one side and the twice-cursed Baderans on the other. They’re chopping your whole country to pieces. And I say let them have it.”

Maklavir sighed and glanced out the window. The city of Vorten had some life back in it, but not as much as before the Despair. Some of the buildings across the street still showed obvious damage from the firestorm that had engulfed the jewel of Valmingaard and destroyed so much.

The Despair had taken everything from Vorten. It cut Maklavir like a knife to know that the city would never be the same again. At least not in his lifetime.

Erbritter took a casual sip of his tea. “It’s nothing personal, Maklavir. Surely you know that. But we have problems of our own right now.” He shook his head sadly. “I feel bad for you Valmingaardians. No one doubts that you have all suffered tremendously during this Despair, especially here in Vorten.” He spread his hands, as if to demonstrate his helplessness in the matter. “But you and the King have nothing to offer us.”

The other two noblemen silently nodded their agreement.

“Yes,” said Maklavir quietly, “I know that Merewith has had its own share of problems.” He shifted his gaze to Erbritter. “But I believe that the terms that King Luxium has offered are more than generous. You have been promised payment for the foodstuffs your duchies can provide for us. We will escort any food convoys with our own troops. We are only asking for the surplus, gentlemen. For the extra food that your own people cannot eat. And a bit of profit for you as well. Now tell me, how is that unfair?”

“Tell you?” Duke Mainz’ face was twisted in a condescending sneer. “Valmingaard is in a desperate place, Maklavir. It is ready to fall any week, and you offer us coinage stamped with the face of your king?” He gave a snorting laugh. “It is of questionable value, to say the least.”

Maklavir’s eyes darkened ever so slightly. “Any money you would be paid with would have the full backing of the monarchy of Valmingaard.”

“And that,” said Krampf roughly, “is precisely the problem.”

Erbritter took an experimental bite of one of the small biscuits set out on the table. “You could, of course, pay us in
gold
.” He grimaced and put the half-eaten biscuit down.

Maklavir tried hard not to stare at the uneaten food. It was more than a lot of citizens in Vorten would eat tonight. “You know very well that we can’t,” he said. It was taking every ounce of effort he had to maintain his poker face. “With Varnost under siege—”

“Other supplies, then,” Krampf chipped in. “Lumber, iron ore, even furs. Something of real
value
.”

“I think,” said Maklavir slowly, “that you gentlemen may be misunderstanding the extent of the situation Valmingaard is in. We need all our natural resources right now to continue the ongoing war effort.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Mainz pushed his chair back and stood. “I told you. This windbag is wasting our time.”

Erbritter gave a sad nod of his head. “I’m afraid that I must agree, Maklavir. I really am sorry, but there is nothing more we can do.” He got up from his chair.

Krampf got up as well. He tossed his napkin back on the long wooden table with a snort.

“I see.” Maklavir’s face was calm, but there was a strange fire in his eyes that none of the other men in the room seemed to notice.

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Lord Erbritter gave a bow. If you are ever in the north of Merewith, Maklavir, I would be honored to return the favor.” He turned for the door.

It was done. Time for his last card, the one ace up Maklavir’s sleeve.

“You will be,” Maklavir said airily, “but not for
me
.  Valmingaard’s men-at-arms, on the other hand, would no doubt love both food and accommodations.” He reached for the teacup.

All three of the Merewithians stopped cold in their tracks. For a moment there was a tense silence in the room.

Krampf swung around. “What the devil did you just say, Maklavir?”

Maklavir took a sip. “I threatened you with military invasion, Sir Krampf.”

That took the old soldier aback. He spluttered for a moment, his face turning red.

Lord Erbritter managed a smile. “Come now, Maklavir, there’s no need for
that
. We came in peace, and there’s no reason why we can’t—”

“Oh,
shut up
.” Maklavir stared hard at the nobleman. There was no more kindness in his eyes. “The time for games is over, Erbritter. Like you yourself said, we Valmingaardians have suffered tremendously. We’re facing enemies on both fronts, and we’re desperate. The three of you have food. We need it. And if you’re too stupid to sell it to us at a reasonable rate, then we will take it by force.”

Krampf strode forward and pounded a fist on the table. The teacups and plates rattled. “You
dare
threaten us! By Eru, we’ll kill whatever men you throw at us, Maklavir. Just come and try it. We Merewithians know how to fight!”

“Do you now?” Maklavir said. “Well, I must say that is a relief. I was under the impression that your duchies consisted mostly of uninspired serfs and tired fat noblemen.” He gave his tea a stir. “Not to mention that the population of Vorten alone, even after the Despair, is probably three times that of all your holdings put together.” He shrugged. “But if you’re so confident, who am I to judge?”

Duke Mainz glared icily at Maklavir. “The Emperor will bring state troops up. When they arrive, you—”

“Again, I am
so
relieved.” Maklavir stared coolly at all three noblemen. “With all the fighting going on in the south, I was under the impression that the Emperor was stretched thin, not to mention all the squabbling going on among the other barons and dukes there.” He sat back in his chair, his expression unmoved. “But since you’re so confident of receiving support, I’m sure none of you have anything to worry about. Good day.”

“You’re bluffing, Maklavir.” Lord Erbritter’s face was pinched and drawn. “You don’t have the men to invade. Not while you are fighting the Kalinglanders and the Baderans at the same time.”

Maklavir raised an imperious eyebrow. “It’s true, we are spread thin. But when our men know that there is corn aplenty to be had just over the border, I’m sure we’ll have no shortage of volunteers to form together into militia and guard units.” He gave the tiniest hint of a smirk. “As the Kalinglanders have been teaching us, it doesn’t take much discipline to mount a good old-fashioned raiding party.”

Mainz opened his mouth, then shut it tight again. “You’re…a
monster
,” he seethed at last.

“No,” said Maklavir calmly. “Just practical.”

Krampf took an angry step forward.

The two guards standing near the door behind Maklavir reacted instantly, hands tightening on their halberds.

Krampf took one uncertain glance at the men, then slowly backed off.

There was a long moment of silence.

Maklavir lifted his teacup easily in one hand and took a deliberate sip.

Erbritter cleared his throat. “I think we were perhaps a little hasty, Maklavir. Your terms from this morning seem more than generous.”

Maklavir gave a half-smile. “I thought they might be.” He stood from his chair. “I’ll expect those food convoys crossing our border within the week, gentlemen. Until then, I am afraid I have other pressing matters to attend to.” He gave an elegant bow. “I bid you all a good day.” He turned without looking and strode out of the room.

In the hall, Maklavir turned into another, empty room. He sighed heavily, rubbing the neatly trimmed black goatee that covered his chin.

Behind him another man entered the room and closed the door softly behind him. “They sure left in a huff. What did you say to them, anyway? Did they agree to sell us the food?”

Maklavir turned with a thin smile. “Actually, Sir Vladi, I threatened to invade their lands with our army.”

Vladi, a portly man in his sixties with gray hair and busy eyebrows, stared in shock at Maklavir. “You…did
what
?”

Maklavir gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Relax, it was just a bluff. They bought it, though.” He grabbed a wine bottle off the table and pulled the cork free. “They should send the food in a week or less. If they don’t, I suggest throwing a few cavalry troops over the border.” He poured a generous helping of wine into a goblet and gave Vladi a reassuring smile. “Not anything serious, mind you. Just enough to keep the threat real.”

Vladi shook his head with a low whistle. “Remind me never to play poker with you, Mr. Maklavir.”

Maklavir downed the glass of wine all in one go. “Used to be quite the card player in my youth. Not so much anymore.”

Vladi nodded sympathetically. “The Despair has changed all of us, I’d wager. For better and worse.”

Maklavir resisted the urge to reach again for the bottle. “That it has.” He turned to the nobleman. “Make sure those Merewithian nobles get safely back over the border. An escort would be in order, I would think.”

“Of course.” Vladi grinned. “We’re lucky to have a diplomat of your caliber helping us out during all this chaos, Maklavir. When all this is said and done, I’ve no doubt the King will reward you handsomely for your efforts here.”

Maklavir winced. “We’ll see,” he said darkly.

Vladi turned and headed out the door to the room, almost bumping into a pretty young maid who was entering at the same moment. “Oh, excuse me, lass,” he said as he exited.

The girl smiled shyly, then came over to the table that Maklavir was standing next to. “Take that glass for you, sir?”

Maklavir returned the smile. “Thank you, yes. The bottle too, if you don’t mind. I feel like I could drain the whole thing if it stays.”

The girl dipped her head, then took the glass and bottle. She paused uncertainly for a moment, her face blushing. “If…if there’s anything
else
you might be needing, sir, you only have to let me know.”

Maklavir pulled a pocket watch out of his vest, glancing at the time. “That’s kind of you, but no.” He looked up at the girl with kind eyes. “I can just make afternoon prayer at the temple, if I hurry.”

A flicker of disappointment showed in the girl’s eyes. She lowered her head. “As it pleases you, sir.”

Maklavir pocketed the watch and turned for the door.

The steps to the temple were crowded with worshippers exiting the building.

Maklavir pulled his feathered cap down further onto his head. Winter was long gone, but here in Valmingaard spring still came slowly and with plenty of chill. Rain glistened on the stone steps of the temple, and dribbled down out of the gray sky above in a monotonous fashion.

He reached the bottom of the steps, and glanced back behind him.

The great temple of Vorten was still being repaired, and was covered with wooden scaffolding. It had suffered much during the firestorm that had consumed much of the city during the opening of the Void. Even now, the Plaza in front of the temple was mostly blackened from the fire and great heat that had devastated the area.

Still, Vorten was rebuilding slowly but surely. With the war still on the work had been going at a snail’s pace, but the restoration of the dome-topped temple had become a symbol of Vorten’s recovery from ruin.

Maklavir shivered in the cold drizzle that spattered down on his head and shoulders. He gave a heavy sigh, then turned away from the temple and back towards the street.

Joseph was there, standing just ten feet away.

Maklavir was taken aback for a moment. “
Joseph
? Great Eru, man, how long have you been standing there?”

The bearded scout looked up at the towering temple. “Not long. Just a few minutes.”

Maklavir came over to him. “I had no idea you were back in Vorten. It’s good to see you again, old chap.”

Joseph nodded, but said nothing. He continued to stare up at the temple.

Maklavir frowned. Joseph had always looked the part of a grizzled pathfinder, but he looked worse than usual. His beard was unkempt, shaggy and uneven. His face was stretched, his eyes weary and dark.

And the man’s
clothes
were the worst of all. Sure, he had undoubtedly been spending a lot of time out of doors, but that greatcoat he wore was absolutely filthy. It was a travesty.

“You just missed the service,” Maklavir said. “There’s another at sundown. If you want, we could—”

Joseph gave a resigned shake of his head. “No thanks, Maklavir. Can’t really say I’m in a praying mood right now.”

Maklavir tried to conceal his surprise. He glanced down at the pocket of Joseph’s greatcoat, the one that always bulged with the copy of the Blessed Scriptures that the man lugged around with him wherever he went.

It was empty.

“I didn’t know you had started attending services.” Joseph’s voice sounded distant, almost as if he was disinterested in the conversation. “You were never a religious man.”

“Yes, well…” Maklavir tugged self-consciously at his cape. “A lot has changed, I suppose. I saw demons of the Void with my own eyes, creatures I had thought were only figments of a theologian’s imagination until then.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to argue with
that
. And I’m not the only one. A lot of people in Vorten have turned back to the old ways, looking for answers.”