Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (32 page)

“Some believe the Rez was actually many different people,
and that through miscommunication or out of desire for a better tale, the deeds
have all been contributed to one individual,” Jimson interjected.

“Yes, but the stories are absurd. His physical feats alone
are humanly impossible. There is no way such a man existed. Like the story of
the apothecary, for example,” Palis said waving a fork in Tam’s direction. “Who
ever heard of a poison that cures and then kills a week later?”

Rezkin cocked his head and replied, “That is quite possible,
actually. If the patient had a simple ailment, one could mix the cure with a
havia draught laced with scarlen powder and dimwyd syrup. It would be a
difficult preparation but perfectly feasible for a Master Apothecary. The
scarlen and dimwyd would delay metabolizing of the havia for about a week at
which time the havia would take effect and kill the man.”

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and said, “If an alchemist
then infused the concoction with a four-three-one ratio of spanderin, frentic
and hephasian mage powders, respectively, the fatal effects could be delayed as
much as a month.” The warrior shrugged and added, “It seems like a lot of work
to go through just to kill a man. It would have been easier just to make it look
like he fell down the stairs in a fit of dizziness from his original ailment.”
Rezkin glanced around to see everyone staring at him with blank faces.

“Why do you know that?” Palis finally asked.

“It was a part of my training. I told you, I am a Master Healer
of the Mundane,” Rezkin answered.

Palis’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he said, “I was not aware
that sort of thing was taught to healers.”

“It is not, typically,” Rezkin agreed, “but I was taught a
number of unusual
Skills
for use in my duties. I never brewed such a
potion, but I am
Skilled
in the techniques and have the necessary
knowledge.”

Brandt frowned and said, “So, you were like some kind of
investigator?”

Rezkin shrugged and said, “If need be.”

The young Gerrand shook his head and remarked, “I still do
not see how you could have lived in Ashai all your life and never heard of the
Rez, especially with a name like
Rezkin
?”

Rezkin shrugged and replied, “My days were filled with
training, not frivolous tales.” In truth, though, he was intrigued. The stories
of this Rez character did not sound so dissimilar to his own training.

“Frivolous? And, you, the historian! These stories are of
historical
significance!” Brandt argued.

“Perhaps,” the warrior replied, “but they could equally be
pure fantasy, a morbid one at that.”

Palis laughed and slapped the table, “Ha! Rezkin does not
believe in the Rez. The irony!” Several of the others chuckled at Rezkin’s
expense. After the weight of the talk of kings and rebels, they were in need of
a bit of light-hearted banter. Apparently, the bard felt so too, because his
next performance was a silly song about a boy who painted all of the town’s
sheep red to impress a girl whose favorite dress was made of red wool.

When the meal was nearly consumed, and the bard had moved on
to juggling an array of colored balls as he jested of fanciful creatures, Palis
turned to Rezkin and remarked, “Lord Carinen and his eldest sons, Dynen and
Rhesh, are staying at our inn. I care not for the eldest. Dynen is cunning and
deceitful. He revels in defaming anyone who draws his attention. The more
difficult the mark, the more he is driven.”

“Rhesh is not so bad,” Brandt remarked. “He could not have
asked for a more miserable lot than to be subjected to Lord Carinen and Dynen
all his days. I might think I was blessed by comparison,” he grumbled.

Lord Carinen had a reputation for being just as cunning and
deceitful, except that he turned his focus to politics and power plays. What
was more, the marquis had managed to work his way into King Caydean’s circle of
influence. He zealously preached the king’s praises, but Rezkin knew the man
would put a knife in the king’s back if he believed he would profit. It was
speculated that Carinen killed his wife when, after a number of years, it
became clear that she was unable to bear any more sons following the first.
Only days after his wife’s death the marquis had already arranged a betrothal
with a much younger woman. She bore him three more sons in two years and nearly
died of complications during birth of the twins.

Dynen, at twenty-seven, was eleven years older than his
younger half-brother and was known for any number of sordid acts from beating
and raping household staff to burning down a brothel because he contracted some
uncomfortable ailment. Of course, among the peers, such acts were merely
whispers and conjecture, but Rezkin knew them to be true. The man had also been
involved in an unfortunate hunting incident where a friend of his, who had just
entered into a betrothal with the woman who was now Dynen’s wife, accidentally
impaled himself on his own spear when he fell from his horse.

“What of Rhesh? I know little of him,” Rezkin inquired.

Rhesh was a quiet, unassuming young man who kept himself
distant from court interest. When the second son was only ten, his mother sent
him to foster with Duke Darning, her third cousin. Lord Carinen heartily
approved of the move, as it would foster good will and influence with the duke;
but popular rumor held that Rhesh’s mother dreaded her husband’s influence on the
boy and feared he would not live to adulthood if left in Dynen’s company. The
younger twins had such a strong bond with each other and their mother that Lord
Carinen and Dynen largely ignored them.

“Rhesh? I have only spoken to him on occasion,” Palis answered.
“He is said to have a decent amount of
talent
for fire – a gift
from his mother’s side. It was not discovered until he was already at Darning,
and since his return to his father’s House, Dynen has left him alone, from what
I have heard. Dynen was quite covetous of Rhesh’s power, but his fear overrides
his envy.”

 “Even Lord Carinen keeps his distance, or so I have
heard,” Brandt added. “Rhesh seeks to compete in the tournament, as well. Duke
Darning employs a Swordmaster on his guard, and he set the man to teaching
Darning’s own sons and Rhesh.”

“Which Master?” Rezkin queried.

Brandt and Palis looked at each other in thought. “What did
Rhesh say the man’s name was?” Palis asked.

“I think it was Morden or Morgan or something like that,”
Brandt replied.

“Moroven,” Rezkin corrected with a nod.

“You know him?” Palis asked with surprise.

Rezkin shook his head in the negative. “No, I have never met
him, personally, but I know
of
him. He wields a two-handed longsword of
the Sandean Imperial style. I would not have thought the man would encourage
dueling as a sport. He is a practical warrior.”

“Rhesh mentioned that the tournament was his father’s idea,”
Brandt said with disgust. “It is how they are – always pressing their sons
to accomplish what they could not, regardless of whether or not it pleases the
son.”

Palis raised a brow and said, “Your father did not send you
to the tournament.”

“No, he did not,” Brandt spat. “He would not have allowed me
to come at all except I said I would go whether he approved it or not. I told
him if he wanted to be sure his heir returned alive, he should send me with you
and your guards,” he finished with a grin.

Palis shook his head and said, “I wonder if Rhesh is so good
with his sword. I would pay dearly to see him defeat his own brother.”

“It is unlikely you would witness such a duel,” Rezkin
commented. “Dynen will assuredly be competing in the Fifth Tier.”

“What?” Palis exclaimed.

“He is a Swordmaster in his own right,” the warrior explained.

“I have never heard such a thing,” the young lord denied
with disdain.

Rezkin nodded with a grunt and said, “Lord Carinen has been
pushing for a seat on the Council. He and Dynen have kept the secret thus far,
but I expect they intend to have some great unveiling at the tournament in a
bid for recognition and power. If Rhesh, too, performs well in his tier, the
marquis’ support will undoubtedly increase. I do not know if it will be enough
to overcome his reputation, though, especially with his closeness to the king.”

“Considering certain aforementioned activities of the
gracious monarch,” Brandt said facetiously in a low voice, “it is unlikely the
Council of Lords will desire to shift the balance of power in the king’s favor
more than it has already.”

The warrior shrugged, “It may not matter. The king may
decide to simply appoint the man to the Council with or without their consent.”

“He could not!” Palis stated with alarm. “The Council has
always been selected by popular vote of the seated members.”

“Knowing what you know of him, think you not that the king
will find a way?” Rezkin questioned.

Rezkin was seated at the head of the table, Palis and Brandt
to either side with Waylen beside Palis. The mage sat to Brandt’s other side
but was making every attempt to give the lords their privacy. Palis leaned in
closely, and Brandt followed his lead as Waylen’s eyes began surreptitiously
surveying the patrons around them.

“That is what we wanted to talk to you about,” Palis said in
a hushed breath. “We want to know more about…you know…the man you were talking
about before. Tell us about him.”

“I am not certain this is the time to discuss such things.
And, you must stop appearing so suspicious. Right now, anyone who was looking
would think you are plotting something.

“He is right,” Waylen stated softly. “Several people already
are attempting to listen in on the secrets of young lords who deign to dine in
a common tavern.”

Brandt scoffed and said, “It is not the first time lords
have opted to dine in the city.”

“Maybe not, but it is likely the first for a group such as
this
,”
Waylen’s thoughtful mind observed as he nodded toward the remainder of their
party. Drascon, who sat Rezkin’s opposite at the other end, could not help his
regular glances in their direction, but the others were all engaged in
conversations of their own.

“May we accompany you to your room, then?” Palis asked.

“Why now?” Rezkin inquired. “Why not aboard the ship where
fewer strangers may overhear?”

“Strangers, true,” said Palis, “but no fewer prying ears. My
brother and Tieran are aboard, as well as Waylen’s father. They are heads or
future heads of Houses, and it is best not to involve them in our… ah,
activities
…until
we know their inclinations. I know not what Lord Nasque and Tieran believe, and
Malcius has strong opinions, but he is reluctant to consider such radicalism.”

“And you are not?” Rezkin questioned.

“I believe what you said about duty and accountability,”
Palis replied. “I would hear more about your…
friend
…if you would
consent.”

“You feel the same?” Rezkin asked as he met the gazes of the
other two young lords.

“Something must be done. I would lend him my support now,
such as it is, if he were here to accept,” Brandt stubbornly remarked. Waylen
simply granted him a confident nod with determined eyes.

“If I do not answer your questions?” Rezkin inquired.

“Then we will go to the striker,” Palis replied.

“And, if he does not?” the warrior pressed.

Palis shifted uncertainly, but Brandt asserted, “Then we will
seek him out ourselves.” Palis glanced at Brandt and then nodded his agreement.

“You could get yourselves strung up if you were caught,”
Rezkin warned.

“Possibly, but if it was made public, then at least the
people would know about
him
,” Brandt replied dramatically.

“More likely you would all simply disappear or your deaths
would be attributed to bandits. None would know of your martyrdom,” Rezkin
remarked dispassionately.

“Malcius would know, and he would tell Tieran. Eventually
they would tell Nasque, I am sure,” Palis argued.

“And it would get them killed as well,” Rezkin stated
firmly.

“We cannot sit idly out of fear. Someone must do something.
I do not see why it cannot begin with
us
,” Palis said with conviction.

Rezkin sat back and tapped the table as he eyed the young
lords thoughtfully. “Very well. If it will prevent you all from dying
needlessly, I will answer your questions. Be aware that there are some things I
will not discuss. I ask you to respect my limitations.”

The three lords grinned widely, and Drascon noted the change
in demeanor with interest. Rezkin finally said, “Journeyman, you may release
your ward, now.”

Wesson looked up sharply and said, “How could you tell?”

“I sensed your use of power, and the lieutenant down there
has been trying to determine why he cannot hear us,” Rezkin replied.

The mage’s brow furrowed, “You could sense
that
?”

“What did you do?” Waylen asked the mage curiously.

Wesson answered, “When you all started discussing the king
and such, I erected a sound dispersal ward around us. I apologize that I had to
be included, but it could not be avoided. The dispersal works only one
direction, so you could still hear everything around you, but no one beyond the
ward could hear anything that was said. It may have drawn a little attention
from those who noticed the absence of your voices, but I think it was better
than them hearing your words.”

 “That was quite…proactive of you,” Waylen said,
impressed.

The young mage flushed at the compliment. “It is my job,” he
said looking to Rezkin for approval. “I was not too presumptuous, I hope, my
lord?”

Rezkin waved off the concern and nodded approvingly as he
applied a gracious smile, “Not at all. I value your forethought and encourage
you to do similar when you think it is appropriate.” Wesson smiled with pride
at his first employer’s appreciation.