Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (13 page)

“That was impressive, Rez. You know how to handle a crowd,”
Tieran remarked.

“Once they realized there would be no blood drawn, they were
willing enough to leave,” Rezkin remarked. “A mob does not care for trials and
justice. They only wanted to see him swing.”

“What are you going to do with
him
,” Malcius inquired
as he nodded back in the direction of the prisoner. The two soldiers had the
man draped over their shoulders, since he seemed unable to hold his own weight.
The three Jebai House Guards brought up the rear.

“I am going to talk to him,” Rezkin answered.

“And then?” Malcius asked.

“And then, we will find out if he is guilty of murder,”
Rezkin replied.

“I heard he admitted to killing the man, but you think it
might not have been murder? Then, what? Self-defense? Why would the major’s son
be threatening such a man?” Malcius asked.

“We will find out,” is all Rezkin said.

When the group reached the row of taverns and inns, the
young lords begged off. Apparently, the trial of a commoner was not interesting
enough to interrupt their beauty rest; or perhaps it was the gambling and
entertainment
they found a few doors down from their inn. It was just as well, because Rezkin
did not intend to include them in his interrogation, anyway. This man had
information that Rezkin wanted, and he wanted his interest kept secret.

Once the young lords were away, Wesson hurried up to Rezkin.
“I told you I am not a battle mage. Why did you tell those lords that I am?”

“If you tried to tell me that you are a horse, I would still
call you a battle mage. It is what you are, even if you do not accept it,”
Rezkin replied flatly.

“I do not have to be a battle mage if I do not want to be. I
have no desire to use my powers in such away, and not even a Sword Bearer can
make me,” Wesson argued.

Rezkin stopped and looked the young mage in the eyes.
Wesson’s remark reminded the others of who Rezkin actually was, and as the
soldiers passed by with their prisoner, each eyed him surreptitiously while
attempting to avoid notice. Rezkin ignored them and replied, “Journeyman Mage
Wesson, you cannot stop being a battle mage any more than you can stop being
human. Perhaps it is the term you dislike. A battle mage is simply one who is
practiced in or has a natural affinity for destructive magic. That means
you
.
If you choose not to use your powers in actual battle, that is up to you, but
you are still a battle mage.”

Wesson shook his head. He knew what Rezkin was saying was
true, but he did not have to like it. Changing the subject he said, “You told
them that I am
your
mage. I do not remember coming to such an agreement.
What is it you want from me?”

“I intend to put you on retainer,” Rezkin stated

“
What
? You want to put
me
on retainer, after
what I told you of my powers? I thought you just wanted me to fix something or
make an enchantment,” Wesson replied in disbelief.

“I have no need of such things at this time,” Rezkin replied
as he continued walking.

Rezkin’s gait was quite a bit longer than Wesson’s natural
stride, so the young mage had to hurry to keep up with the massive warrior.
Feeling snarky with his loss of control of the situation, Wesson inquired, “Can
you even afford to keep a
battle mage
on retainer?”

The warrior raised a brow and looked sideways at the mage.
“You said, yourself, that you are not a battle mage.”

“Well,” Wesson huffed, “it is not like you can have it both
ways, is it? If you go around telling people I am your battle mage, then they
will expect me to perform as a battle mage. That comes with a price.”

“And, will you perform as a battle mage?” Rezkin inquired.

“You know I will not,” Wesson replied.

“Then, until you do, you will be paid as a journeyman generalist,”
Rezkin announced.

Wesson winced. It was a low blow among mages. A generalist
was a mage who learned only the basic skills necessary to pass the
apprenticeship exams. Most never learned anything more of value and never
reached the rank of Master. Generalists either found a way to make money in the
mundane way or went about the kingdom scrounging any jobs they could find that
they were capable of performing – just as Wesson had been doing.

“What makes you think I will accept such an offer,” Wesson
replied.

Rezkin grinned wolfishly and replied, “You cannot even
afford a room at an inn and a decent meal. You would have to be an idiot to
refuse the offer of employment.”

“What will you pay me?” Wesson asked.

“What is the going rate for a journeyman generalist?” Rezkin
inquired.

The mage saw no point in lying. The Sword Bearer could
easily confirm Wesson’s claim. Wesson scrunched up his face in distaste as he
said, “Two gold per month.” A battle mage would make that in a week, if not
more.

Rezkin nodded and replied, “I will pay you three, plus
expenses.” Wesson was shocked that the warrior would offer to pay him
essentially twice the asking price. Rezkin noted the young mage’s surprise and
continued. “Your first duty will not be pleasant,” he said seriously.

Wesson eyed the man wearily. “What do you ask of me?”

Rezkin shook his head. “Do you accept my offer?”

The young mage shifted anxiously. His eyes landed on
Rezkin’s sword. The warrior would not be carrying such a weapon if he were not trusted
by the crown. Surely the Sword Bearer would not ask him to do something illegal
or unsavory. He did not know what authority had been granted the man gifted
with the Sheyalin, but it must have been substantial for him to be able to
claim a prisoner accused of murder from the baron. Still, he had no other
prospects, and with a patron, he could eventually move beyond the rank of
journeyman. Not to mention that regular meals and a bed would be a welcomed
change.

Wesson took a deep breath and said, “I do.”

Rezkin nodded once. “Very well. You may compose a contract
if you like. I have no need of one,” he said with obvious intent. Rezkin would
take the matter into his own hands if Wesson shirked his duties. It said much
about the warrior’s confidence and courage that he would speak to Wesson in
such a way. Few but idiots would dare threaten a battle mage, even one who
preferred not to fight, and Lord Rezkin did not seem like an idiot to him. In
fact, he had much more knowledge of magical affairs than even the most astute
mundane.

Rezkin dug through his purse and withdrew six gold coins.
“This is for the first two months. I expect you to stay on at least that long.
If you wish to leave my service after that, you may do so.”

Wesson was once again surprised. It was more than a fair
offer. He was being paid up front and given the option to leave after only two
months. As a generalist, most employers, if any would actually hire him, would
require a commitment of at least six months while retaining the right to terminate
his contract at any time. Generalists received little respect.

“Thank you, but I need to make one thing clear. I will not
kill for you,” Wesson asserted.

“If I need killing, I am capable of doing it myself,” Rezkin
replied. “I do, however, expect you to defend your own life and that of my
companions if we are attacked. I do not believe that is too much to ask from
any man. Outside of self-defense, if it is necessary, I will not ask you to
kill anyone.”

The mage released a breath he had been holding with a heavy
sigh. “That is fair,” he replied.

Rezkin grunted, “You may not think so after you learn of
your first assignment. You might even be wishing I had killed
you
.”

That sounded rather ominous. Wesson’s anxiety returned, and
his shoulders tensed. “What exactly
is
my first duty?”

Turning to the mage with a broad grin, Rezkin said,
“Training a certain healer.”

Wesson’s eyes widened, and he shook his head emphatically,
“No, no, no, no, no. She does not even wish to learn!”

“Which is the reason for the extra gold,” Rezkin replied.
“You and I will convince her that she needs to learn, and then you will train
her in as much use of the power as she can absorb.”

“But, I am not a Master. It is not acceptable for me to take
on an apprentice,” Wesson argued.

“I seriously doubt Reaylin will
ever
desire to
complete an official apprenticeship, but she does need to learn to use her
powers effectively. All you will be responsible for is teaching her to call
upon her power and direct it properly. I am a Master Healer of the Mundane, so
I can legally oversee her training in the mundane healing arts,” Rezkin
replied.

Wesson’s surprised eyes swept over Rezkin once again as he
exclaimed, “You are a Master Healer of the Mundane?” The mage narrowed his eyes
at his new employer. “Who are you, Lord Rezkin?”

“It is just Rezkin, Journeyman,” The warrior replied.

“You expect me to believe you are a commoner? If you were a
commoner twice your age, you
might
have gained so much knowledge in the
right company, but you – you have been educated beyond the means of a
common family, even one of extraordinary means,” Wesson observed.

“You are not wrong,” Rezkin remarked as they approached the
inn. “I never said I was a commoner.”

Captain Jimson and Lieutenant Drascon were waiting at the
mouth of an alley to the side of the building with their charge. When Rezkin
and the mage arrived, Captain Jimson asked, “What do you want done with the
prisoner?”

“Take him in through the back to my room,” Rezkin replied.
“I will go in the front and alert the innkeeper of your coming.”

Captain Jimson saluted Rezkin out of habit, and then the two
soldiers pulled the damaged prisoner through the alley. Rezkin and Wesson
entered through the front and were immediately assailed by Tam and Frisha.

“Rez!” Frisha shouted with a relieved smile.

“What happened?” Tam asked. “We saw the mob. A couple of the
other patrons returned saying there was a trial for murder but that some young
lord intervened and prevented the execution. Another said it was the baron who
stopped the execution, and someone else said it was actually the magistrate
that was to be executed. What’s going on?”

Rezkin raised a hand and said, “One moment, Tam. I must
speak to the innkeeper briefly.”

When Rezkin walked off, two pairs of curious eyes turned to
Wesson. Sergeant Millins was less boisterous in his curiosity, but he, too, was
paying close attention.
            “Well?”
Frisha asked.

“Well, what?” Wesson hedged.

Frisha released an exasperated breath. “Well, what
happened
?”
she asked with frustration.

Wesson shrugged and said, “Perhaps we should wait for
Lor-….ah, Rezkin to return.”

“Oh, come on! The whole city knows what happened. You were
there. Tell us,” Frisha prodded.

Wesson sighed. He suddenly felt like he had been swept away
by a flash flood. Never in his life had he been involved in something so
eventful, and now he was stuck in the middle of it with his new employer.
“Fine. In short, a man was accused of killing the mayor’s son. The magistrate
did not give him a proper trial and issued orders for his execution in front of
the mob. Lo-…Rezkin…questioned the magistrate’s methods and requested an
appeal. The magistrate was disrespectful toward Rezkin and Captain Jimson and
was unwilling to change his mind, so Rezkin removed him from his office. Then,
the baron arrived…”

“Wait,” Tam interrupted. “What do you mean, ‘Rezkin removed
him from his office?’ How can Rez remove a magistrate?”

“Well, he-…”

“I merely stated the intent,” Rezkin replied. “Baron
Fendendril backed my decision.” Wesson eyed the man sideways. What Rezkin said
was true, but it was not
exactly
the way it happened. There was never
any doubt that Rezkin would follow through with his intent.

“Oh,” said Tam. “So the baron took care of the matter after
all. What happened to the prisoner?”

“He is to be given a new trial,” Rezkin replied vaguely.

“That’s good,” Frisha beamed. “I’m so proud of you, Rez. You
stood up for what was right against an angry mob and the magistrate. But, it’s
a good thing the baron backed you. You could have been in a lot of trouble if
things had gone differently,” she said with sudden concern.

“Have no worry, Frisha. The magistrate was out of line, and
I was within my rights.” Frisha and Tam looked confused for a moment, but
before they could ask for clarification, Rezkin continued, “It would be best if
both of you stayed away from my room tonight.”

Frisha narrowed her eyes, and a hint of anger bled into her
voice as she asked, “Why is that, Rez? Are you having company?” The sudden
burst of jealousy surprised even her. What was wrong with her? She had never
before been so obsessed with a man. If a man was interested in someone else,
then she always thought,
Good riddance
. There was no point in trying to
keep a man’s interest if he was prone to wandering. Every time Frisha even
thought that Rezkin’s attention might wander, her blood boiled hot and her
heart began to panic.

“Yes,” Rezkin stated, “which is why I must leave you now.
You should both stay in your rooms. Tempers in this city are running hot
tonight, and I would not want either of you running into trouble. In fact, once
you have retired, I will place traps on your doors. I will remove them before
dawn, as usual.”

“What?” Frisha nearly shouted. “You’re going to trap me in
my room while you
entertain
?”

Rezkin frowned. “I would hardy call it entertaining, Frisha.
I am merely going to get what I need and finish my business. I do not think you
would care to witness my methods.”

“Oh! I can’t believe you!” Frisha gritted out between her
teeth. She wanted to scream and cry, but she really did not want to make a
scene in the common room of the inn. As it was, the noise of the other excited
patrons was just loud enough to cover their conversation.

The warrior noticed how Frisha’s face heated, and her fists
balled. Rezkin did not know why the young woman was so upset. Did she really
want to be involved in the interrogation? He shifted uncertainly and said, “I
suppose you could join us if you
want
. I just did not think it was the
kind of thing with which you would be comfortable.”

Frisha’s face abruptly paled, and she swayed against Tam.
Tam was still a little in shock at the woman’s reaction. Frisha’s jealousy
seemed only to increase the longer they were around Rez. The young man also
noticed, however, that Rezkin looked truly sincere and confused. Tam wondered
if his friends were actually having two different conversations.

Just as Frisha tensed and opened her mouth to respond, Tam
gripped her arm and said, “Hold off, Frisha. Rez, who exactly is staying in your
room tonight?”

“Journeyman Wesson, unless he has changed his mind and would
prefer his own room, and our prisoner,” Rezkin replied factually.

“What?” Frisha asked, completely deflated.

“You have the prisoner
here
?” Tam asked in surprise
with a hushed voice.

“Yes,” said Rezkin. “I need to interrogate him. I must
conclude my investigation before dawn. That is when the baron will rule on his
case since we are leaving in the morning.”

Frisha punched Rezkin in the arm with a small fist. “Rezkin!
I though you meant you were having a woman for company.” Her jealousy was
instantly replaced with equal amounts of relief and anger. She was not ready to
admit that she was actually angry with herself for getting worked up over
nothing.

Rezkin looked at Frisha in puzzlement and replied, “As far
as I know, Frisha, no women were involved in the incident. Besides, I would
prefer never to have any woman but you near me when I sleep.” Rezkin felt the
muscles along his spine tense at the thought of having a strange woman in his
bedchamber while he was sleeping.

Frisha’s heart jumped at Rezkin’s words. Her face flushed
with embarrassment at both his insinuation and her earlier accusation. She
smiled, but the expression was soon lost when Tam caught her eye. He was giving
her his most disapproving look, and she knew she had messed up again. She
questioned Rezkin’s honor and sincerity,
again
, and Tam was irritated
with her. Frisha was amazed at how protective Tam had become with regard to
Rezkin. Tam practically idolized the man for his courage and honor and his
decent amount of skill, but he treated Rezkin’s heart like it was made of
porcelain. Tam would never forgive Frisha if she broke it.

“I, um, I’m sorry, Rez. I misunderstood what you were
saying,” Frisha offered as she looked up from lashes lowered in shame. She
glanced at the young mage who had witnessed her outburst, but he was pointedly
pretending the conversation had not occurred.

“So, I am correct in assuming you do
not
want to be
involved in questioning the prisoner?” he asked.

“Ah, no, not really,” Frisha replied with chagrin. “I think
I will retire to my room.”

“I will escort you,” Tam said with a clenched jaw. “I wish
to have a word before you retire.” Frisha winced but nodded her assent.

“One more thing before you go. Where is Reaylin?” Rezkin
asked.

Frisha shrugged. “I think she went up to our room after you
left. She said something about getting a better view from the second floor. I
don’t know what she was trying to see, though, since after the mob passed, it
was just an empty street.”

“Would you send her to my room, please?” Rezkin asked.

Frisha narrowed her eyes again, and Wesson suddenly felt the
need to jump in and stave off another outburst. “The prisoner requires healing.
If she is willing, I could assist her.”

Frisha snapped her mouth shut and nodded. “Fine,” she
mumbled.

Rezkin held up a hand and implored, “Do not tell her why I
am requesting her presence. If she knows, she will not show.”

Frisha grinned at the other girl’s upcoming discomfort and
then wiped the look from her face. Something was seriously wrong with her. She
should not be taking pleasure in other people’s misfortunes – even
Reaylin’s…probably.

As Frisha and Tam moved toward the stairs, Rezkin nodded to
Sergeant Millins to follow. The man had been hanging back keeping an eye on the
patrons around them. He caught most of the conversation and could not wait to
share it with his comrades. They would all get a good laugh out of it over a
round of ale.

Rezkin looked at Wesson questioningly, as if the young mage
could divine the truth about women. Wesson simply shook his head and asked,
“So, ah, you and Lady Frisha are…
together
?”

Rezkin cocked his head and glanced back in the direction of
the stairs where Frisha had gone. The mage could see that they were no longer
in each other’s company, and Wesson knew they were traveling together, so he
assumed the mage must have been inquiring as to the nature of their
relationship. Rezkin hazarded a guess as to the meaning of the question and
replied, “Frisha is my
Girl Friend
.”

“She, ah, seems to have a temper,” Wesson observed.

“Yes, it has only gotten worse as of late. I assume it has
to do with the fact that her uncle and guardian refused my proposal,” Rezkin
remarked as he guided the young mage toward the stairs.

“Oh, well, I think that would do it,” Wesson replied.

Rezkin led the way to his room, and the mage followed
anxiously. The young warrior entered the room to find the injured prisoner
prostrate on the floor. Lieutenant Drascon stood beside the door while Captain
Jimson sat in a chair near the window keeping an eye out for any disgruntled
townsfolk thinking to make a go at the prisoner. The warrior closed the door
and barred it before turning to survey his comrades.

“Is he conscious?” Rezkin asked roughly.

In response, Kai Colguerun groaned and turned his head to
look at the young lord who had thus far saved his life. One of his eyes was
swollen shut, but the other, dark and bloodshot, stared at the young man.

Rezkin nodded in acknowledgement and said, “Reaylin will
hopefully be arriving soon. Before she gets here, I would like to make one
thing clear. Only the people in this room and perhaps two others are aware of
the honor I bear, and I would keep it that way. None of the other traveling
companions know of the weapons I carry or of my status and authority. I do not
care to impress that authority often, but in this I must. Do not speak of it to
any who are not in this room. In fact, it is best if you simply do not speak of
it at all, lest you be overheard.”

“Just what is your status and authority, Lord Rezkin?”
Drascon dared to ask.

Rezkin turned his vivid blue gaze on the lieutenant and
said, “Suffice it to say that both your captain and General Marcum have the
requisite knowledge, and it is for this reason you will defer to me when
necessary. That is as much information as I am willing to provide at this
time.”

“Frisha?” Wesson asked.

Rezkin’s eyes fell on the journeyman mage. “No, she does not
know,” he replied.

Kai coughed and heaved and then asked in a dry, raspy voice,
“Why does a Sword Bearer hide?”

Rezkin lifted a brow as he replied, “I believe it is you who
should be answering the questions, but I will tell you in good faith. Firstly,
it is because I do not wish to draw attention to myself. It would be
inconvenient. Secondly, I have tasks I must perform, and people treat a Sword
Bearer with intense awe or fear, neither of which is conducive to my purposes.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Lieutenant
Drascon opened the door expecting Reaylin but found the innkeeper, a maid, and
two young men hefting extra cots. Drascon looked to Rezkin in question, and the
warrior waved them through. They all entered, nervously eyeing the soldiers,
the mage, and the beaten man sprawled on the floor. They placed one cot against
the back wall and the other on the far wall opposite the bed that already
occupied the room. The maid quickly spread the linens and blankets over the
cots and then ran out almost frantically. The innkeeper stared at the injured
prisoner before he finally spoke.

“Is
he
going to be using one of these cots? I’ve no
desire to be boarding a murderer, and I’ll not be providing for his comfort
neither,” the innkeeper proclaimed.

Rezkin directed a hard look at the portly man. “You
will
because I have paid you to do so. If you still refuse, then be assured, I have
other means of getting what I require.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened, and his brow broke into a cold
sweat. His bulging blue eyes danced around the room at the hard men who stared
back at him. He wiped his hands on his apron and replied, “J-Just make sure he
stays in the room. We can’t have him in the common room with the other
patrons.”

The injured prisoner released a wheezing chuckle, and Rezkin
waved the innkeeper away. Like anyone would keep a beaten prisoner in a busy
common room.

“Have someone bring up a couple of buckets of water and some
food, as well,” Rezkin called to the innkeeper’s rather large retreating form. Reaylin
had to plaster herself to the wall just to let the large man by before she was
able to make it to the room.