Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (51 page)

The warrior shrugged. “Whether I marry her or not, Frisha
will always be my friend, and I endeavor to honor and protect my friends.”

“I would be so lucky to call you friend, Rezkin,” Tieran
stated earnestly.

Rezkin glanced over at the rider beside him and then nodded
once, receiving a genuine smile from the young lord. Rezkin inwardly shrugged.
He might as well add to the list. Although he originally had reservations about
the arrogant young noble, he had come to like Tieran. Whoever was in charge of
assigning him
friends
could just deal with it.

Tieran’s smile faded, and he said seriously, “Thank you,
Rezkin.”

“What is it this time?” Rezkin inquired curiously.

“For not running me through when we first met. Now that I
know you, I know that your promise to kill me was no idle threat. Thinking
back, that was probably my first real brush with death, and I did not even know
it. I thank the Maker that your honor surpasses your formidable skills.”

“You were being an idiot. Someone had to teach you some
sense,” Rezkin replied.

Tieran laughed and said, “I have not heard you so candid
before. Scores of other nobles were traveling to Skutton, but you chose
me
.
That is why, is it not? You wanted to influence me?”

“Not politically speaking. I hoped you would become a man
worthy of the position you will one day hold,” Rezkin replied.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are some ancient mage posturing
as a young man. You speak with wisdom beyond your years,” Tieran remarked as
their horses began clopping down one of the main stone streets of the city.

“I assure you, I am only nineteen,” Rezkin said. He paused
and then added, “…or perhaps twenty, now. I do not really know, since I never
new my parents.”

“How were you raised if you did not know your parents? And
how have you become so successful?” Tieran asked in surprise.

“I was raised by trainers who took the responsibility
seriously,” Rezkin vaguely replied. “Through intensive training, they made it
clear I was of some import, but they died before revealing my family history to
me.”

“You do not even know from which House you hail?” Tieran
asked in surprise. “Surely your family must be looking for you if you have now
disappeared from your training facility. Are you sure that is your age? Perhaps
you are older than you think,” Tieran pondered. He simply could not believe
that Rezkin was five years younger than he.

The warrior shrugged and said, “It does not really matter,
does it?”

The young lord rubbed at his chin and said, “No, I suppose
it does not. If you were trained by Swordmasters your whole life, then someone
had to pay a fortune. They had to be preparing you to take over the House and
its business. You must come from one of the Great Houses, although I cannot
think of one that could afford such an education, not even my own. I find it
hard to believe that you do not know where you come from with the way you wield
power. You must know something to claim such status.”

Rezkin looked at Tieran sideways and said, “I know my
birthright.”

Tieran’s eyes widened excitedly. “So you
do
know your
family!”

The warrior shifted in his saddle as his eyes roved over the
streets and passersby. “I know my patron and am reasonably certain of his
intentions, but I have no reason to believe he is family.”

The young lord pondered the statement and then lit up
exclaiming, “Your k-…ah…master!
He
was your patron!”

Rezkin frowned and said, “I have no master.”

“But…you said you serve the
True K
-…ah, you know
who,” Tieran said cautiously with more than a little skepticism.

“We can discuss this another time, Tieran. This is not the
place, and we had best concentrate on your own problems,” the warrior replied.

“Right…yes…poison,” Tieran reminded himself as the weight
settled on him once again.

Just as the two arrived at the inn, Rezkin spied Wesson
lugging a heavy sack up the front steps. Wesson dropped the bag to the deck and
stretched his back as Rezkin and Tieran dismounted. The young mage smiled
pleasantly and said, “I gathered all of the items you requested and then some.
I admit there were a few I just could not pass up. Can you believe I found
sable sand for ten silvers a pound?”

Rezkin’s brow rose, and he remarked, “That
is
a good
deal.” He took in the mage’s physical distress from lugging the heavy pack and
asked, “Just how much sable sand did you purchase?”

Wesson flushed slightly and said, “Oh, I only bought two
pounds of that, but I found some other interesting goods I thought you would
like. I also purchased a few things to add to my own collection. If ah…you do
not want any of the extra goods, you can take them out of my pay, of course.”

The warrior waved away the mage’s concern and replied, “No,
no. I told you to purchase whatever you think we need. If you found a good deal
on something useful, then I am sure we can find a use for it. Did you happen to
pick up a bottle of cindermint oil?”

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the mage looked up with
concern, “No, but I believe there is already a bottle in your supplies. I have
not had much use for the stuff, myself.”

“Please pick up another bottle on your next outing.
Actually, pick up two or three. I am about to use most of the one I have, and
we may need more in the near future,” Rezkin replied.

Wesson looked appalled. “Whatever for? Are you planning on
playing with poison?” he asked more cautiously.

“I do not
play
with poison, but someone does. I have
already found two intended for Tieran today. I need to perform the tests to
identify them and determine the assailant’s purpose,” Rezkin replied.

The mage’s face paled as his eyes darted to the duke’s son.
In a hushed voice he said, “Someone tried to poison Lord Tieran? Where did this
happen?”

“It was someone at the duke’s estate, and we have reason to
believe both Duke Ytrevius and Duke Atressian’s son, Hespion,
may
have
been involved,” Rezkin said without concern for being overheard since he felt
the mage’s sound shield pop up around the three of them.

“Yes, I can see that it is most important we determine their
purpose as soon as possible, especially before he must return to the duke’s
estate,” Wesson replied.

“As to that, we will require a shift in room assignments.
Tieran will be staying here for a few days – at least until we have more
information and can be assured of his safety,” Rezkin stated.

“Of course. If it were me, I would not go back at all,” the
mage muttered.

Tieran agreed wholeheartedly, but to not go back would be
seen as a serious insult to the duke. Without proof that the duke was involved,
Tieran could not present a good reason for his sudden departure. If he brought
the poisoning attempts to light, it would alert the assailant that he was aware
of the poisonings, and the attempts might become more blatant or the parties
involved could disappear, and they would never find the culprit. Still, was it
worth his
life
?

“I shall set up the glassware while you tend to your horse,
if you please,” Wesson stated. “I assume you know what you are doing. I do not
really have any experience with poisons.”

“Yes, thank you, Journeyman. That will be helpful,” Rezkin
replied. “As to the experience, you are about to learn.” The warrior reached
down with one hand and lifted the mage’s heavy pack easily, hefting it onto his
shoulder as though it weighed little more than a down-stuffed pillow.

Wesson’s wan smile faded as the other two made their way
around to the back of the inn. The young mage really had no desire to get
involved with poison. The thought was utterly frightening that something so
small and seemingly innocuous could be so deadly. It suddenly occurred to him
that his aversion to poisons stemmed from many of the same concerns he had
about…well…
himself
. He saw himself as something like a poison. A poison
really had no purpose other than to destroy…just like him.

When Rezkin and Tieran finally made it up to the room, the
glassware was already arranged on a small table, and Wesson had just lit a mage
flame in a hand-sized bowl. Rezkin nodded in approval. The mage flame would
burn at a constant temperature and would not extinguish until Wesson released
it.

After discarding their packs, Rezkin rifled through his
supplies of powders, pastes, solvents, oils, herbs and other medicinal and
alchemical ingredients. He selected a number of bottles, jars and packets and
arranged them in an orderly fashion beside the glassware. He took a seat in the
single chair at the table, while Wesson stood at his side and Tieran sat at the
end of a bed watching curiously.

From his doublet, Rezkin retrieved a tiny bundle of leather.
He placed the bundle on a small ceramic plate and then removed his doublet and
rolled up his sleeves. He carefully unwrapped the leather bundle. The first
thing that popped out was a white kerchief with light purple splotches. Careful
not to touch the purple powder, Rezkin moved the kerchief to another plate. He
continued to unroll the leather until the tiny needle, not much larger than a
burr fell onto the ceramic plate.

Tieran’s eyes were wide as he exclaimed, “Where are the
poisons?”

Rezkin motioned to the kerchief and said, “The purple powder
was on your tunic, and the tiny needle was on your practice sword.”

The young lord leaned forward and squinted at the ceramic
plate. “
That
! You saw
that
tiny thing on the hilt? I can barely see
it on the plate, and it was a wire hilt in the shade. How do you know it is
poisoned?”

“Aside from the creepy little man’s behavior?” Rezkin asked
with irritation.

“Right, but you knew before he approached,” Tieran argued.

The warrior sighed and said, “If you were to look very
closely, you would see that the tip of the needle is hollow. It is meant to
carry a liquid into the body. If you gripped the hilt, you might have felt a
tiny prick you most likely would have attributed to a loose wire. You would not
have considered that you were poisoned even after you fell ill – that is
if it did not kill you outright.”

“And the powder? Should you not be wearing gloves or
something?” Tieran inquired.

“I would then have to burn the gloves,” Rezkin replied.
“Besides, this is very delicate work, especially since I am using smaller
glassware designed for traveling. My measurements and motions must be precise,
and wool and leather gloves are too thick to allow for that kind of movement.
Do not worry. I am immune to most poisons, so I will not likely be affected.”

“Why are you immune to poisons?” the young lord asked with
surprise.

“It is recommended that anyone who works with poisons
develop a healthy immunity to the substances,” Rezkin replied.

Tieran and Wesson both looked at Rezkin with concern and
calculation. “You mentioned before that you had knowledge of such, but I did
not realize your experience was so…thorough,” the young lord remarked
uncomfortably.

“You should be glad it is,” the warrior-apothecary, replied
as he used a miniature clamp to lift the needle over a clear glass vial and
began dousing it with pungent oil. After several drops of the oil had gathered
in the bottom of the vial, Rezkin added a few drops of another low viscosity,
clear liquid. He then mixed in a white powder, which he stirred with a thin
glass rod while holding it over the mage flame with a larger set of clamps. The
warrior poured the milky substance into a glass jar and then set it aside. He
began mixing other powders and liquids into two other jars, occasionally
heating them. One jar he placed over the flame and then covered the top with a
long tube that curled around in a spiral off to the side. Liquid dripped out of
the tube into another jar.

Tieran had no idea what the man was doing, but he certainly
looked like he knew how to do it. Every once in a while he caught Wesson
reading the bottles, scratching his head thoughtfully, or nodding in approval.
Eventually, Rezkin combined the concoctions in an interesting display of colors
where adding one liquid changed the clear mixture blue and adding the other
would turn it red. If the young lord did not know any better, he would have
thought
talent
was involved.

Rezkin glanced around and noted that his separation ramp was
missing. He went over and dug through his items until he found the small
ceramic device. It was really just a ceramic slab that was raised in the middle
with the two sides tilting downward at a slight angle like ramps butting up
against each other. At the end of each ramp was a small basin. The whole
apparatus was not much bigger than Rezkin’s hand. Wesson frowned as the warrior
set it on the table but said nothing.

Picking up the final jar of red liquid, Rezkin held it
carefully over the center of the ramp and began to pour a tiny, steady trickle.
As the red liquid hit the apex of the ramp, a slightly green liquid slid down
the ramp to the right and a fine blue powder slid down the ramp to the left.
Rezkin poured until the entirety of the red liquid had disappeared.

Wesson’s eyes were wide as he exclaimed, “How did you do
that? It is not possible!”

Rezkin frowned at the mage and replied, “Of course it is
possible. It is a separation ramp. That is its intended use. Surely you used
one at some point in your training. ”

The mage shook his head emphatically saying, “No, I mean,
that is an alchemist’s tool. It cannot be used by a mundane. You must infuse
the solution with the proper combination of powers to get the desired result.”

Raising his brow questioningly, Rezkin said, “I am not a
mage. Did you sense me using any power?”

Wesson shifted uncomfortably and said, “Well, no.”

“The ramp obviously worked,” Rezkin remarked as he motioned
to the object in question.

Tieran’s eyes darted back and forth between the two as they
stared at each other defiantly. Finally, he interrupted. “I do not understand.
How can you say what the poison is just by doing…all of
that
?” he asked
as he waved his hand over the entire setup.

Rezkin turned to the man he now called
friend
and
said, “Each step told me something about the nature of the poison. Depending on
the result, I added another step that would give me an answer to the next
question. Each time, it narrowed down the possibilities as to which of the
poisons known to me could have been applied to the needle. The fact that the
titration, the part just before the end, resulted in blue and red liquids meant
that it was either crophylius serum, which is quite deadly, or triania extract,
which is not. The final liquid portion is green and the powder is blue, which
means it was triania extract.

Tieran frowned and said, “But you said triania extract is
not deadly.”

“That is correct. It will not kill you, at least, not unless
you were to consume a larger quantity. At this small dosage, I would expect you
to feel miserable, be extremely tired, and probably be quite nauseous, perhaps
even vomit,” Rezkin replied.

With furrowed brow, Tieran said, “So someone was trying to
make me
sick
?”

“It would seem so – at least with
this
particular item. It is possible that the other poison is cause for more concern
or even that the two could combine to cause a more serious condition,” the
warrior replied.

“Well then, shall we see what the other one is?” Tieran
asked.

Rezkin nodded and he and Wesson began cleaning the glassware
and ceramics. Tieran noticed that Wesson’s eyes continuously glanced
suspiciously at his employer, particularly after they landed on the separation
ramp a few times. The journeyman’s concerns suddenly reminded Tieran of his own
confusion over what happened with Hespion.

“Rezkin, how did you know that Hespion was directing his
power at you, and how did you manage to defend yourself against it? I did not
even notice the power until it surged back,” Tieran asked curiously.

Wesson’s attention darted to the warrior who was finishing
the setup. Rezkin shook his head and replied, “Most people do not realize a
mundane can protect himself from a mage attack if he creates a focus shield.”

“A focus shield?” Wesson asked doubtfully.

“Yes, much like a mage focuses his
will
into his
power, a mundane can focus his own
will
into preventing that power from
reaching him – a focus shield,” the warrior stated as he sat down and
began dousing the poison-coated kerchief with the clear oil.

Wesson shook his head with furrowed brow. “It does not work
that way, Rezkin. A mundane cannot even
feel
the mage power, much less
protect against it. That is why there are laws against using one’s powers on a
mundane without permission or serious cause.”

Rezkin shook his head in protest and explained, “It is a
technique that takes years of practice to master. Not everyone is capable of
such focus.”

“No, Rezkin, others have tried for decades, maybe longer.
Even the academy has pushed to discover such a method. It does not exist,”
Wesson replied.

Rezkin began heating and mixing his potions. “Just like the
separation ramp should not work?” he asked with derision.

“Yes,” Wesson nodded emphatically. “Just like the separation
ramp should not work
except
for a trained mage.”

“But, I have no mage power. I am not a mage,” the warrior
said as he looked up at his retainer.

“Perhaps the separation ramp is enchanted to work for
anyone,” Tieran offered optimistically.

“I do not sense any enchantments on the ramp, and I am
fairly skilled with enchantments,” Wesson remarked, “particularly one that
would require nocent power, as would a separation spell.”