Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (14 page)

“Huh?”

“And
that's just the start because the army has to be fed, too, and then there's the
tournament grounds to prepare, and…oh, hand me that cloth. Nothing is polished!
I think I'd better request some slaves to come scrub the temple, in case Kovat
brings them in here.”

“Huh?”
I was still in the dark on this one.

“Who
do you think must bless the tournaments and lead the welcoming processions and
pray for victory?” she screamed at me.

“Okay,
I get that, you and me do the chanting thing.” I helped her lower the heavy black
ring of candles from the ceiling.

“Chanting
thing, yes, and if you make a mistake no one will care. And it will cost you
nothing but your life. If the battle goes badly Kovat will punish you, which
you will deserve, but he will also punish Tarvik and me for befriending you. I
should never have allowed you into the temple.” As quickly as Nance had
exploded in anger, she crumpled into tears, threw her arms around me and
sobbed, “I did not mean it, Stargazer, truly. Only I am so afraid for all of
us.”

“You
should be. You've pulled down the same candle ring we cleaned yesterday.”

For
a clever and inventive girl, Nance could fall apart with alarming speed. I
pushed her firmly down on a bench and made her tell me all the chores that
needed to be done. These I put in order, gotta-do ahead of should-do. Not
having Nance's imagination, I could not see a scarf floating in a draft and
invent a way to fly. No vague, outlandish possibilities clouded my direction.
Nance's sobbing descriptions of what lay ahead were so beyond my ability to
visualize, I ignored her and worked at preparing the temple. I scrubbed stones
and polished metal and straightened tapestries and candles.

Nance
did ask for helpers but was told that all hands were busy making preparations
in the castle. Oh for a proper vacuum, a bottle of bleach, washer/dryer, and so
on. Instead I washed our tunics in a bowl of hot water in the courtyard and
hung them in the sunshine to dry, even though Nance saw no purpose in this
activity.

“No
one can see them under our robes,” she complained.

And
no one but me would be able to smell them above the heavy odor of population,
but I did not bother to mention that. I had quite enough on my mind, with the
family of Tarvik's uncle expected soon. Included in the group was Alakar,
Tarvik's promised, and although I didn't care who the boy married, I did wonder
what it was about her that made her so special. Okay, I was plain old curious.

Even
if I had tried to picture Erlan, his wife, and the daughter from Nance's
descriptions, I could not have guessed the depth of evil that lay in the heart
of Kovat's younger brother.

On
the other hand, it gave me a whole new perspective on evil brothers.

Darryl's
brother, back in Seattle, was a smash wizard, the only one in the city because
smash wizards are territorial and competitors disappeared. His skill was
limited. That's how smash magic works and he wasn't the brightest bulb, anyway,
but he had that smash thing down pat. He could drop rumor and scandal into
anyone's life and end careers as well as personal relationships. Goes by the
name of Rock and nobody has Rock on his birth certificate so that pretty much
describes his self-image.

A
smarter me would have avoided those two. It took a credit search and then a
winding clue-strewn path through other records to wise me up. One time Rock was
the center of a scam aimed at neighborhood politics. Somehow some money
disappeared and somehow Darryl ended up owning several businesses in the
neighborhood.

Okay,
none of it made headlines in a big city, but it was there, a trail of schemes,
in the bank's computer links.

“You
jerk!” I'd screamed at Darryl after the third stalker phone call. “You’re
trying to involve me in your scams. You think the local law won't track you
back?”

Because
it would. The cops don’t know the name Mudflat but they know the area. They
drive through slowly and don't stop and don't ask questions unless someone is
actually out on a sidewalk flashing a gun.

Get
some pressure put on by one cornered politician, a call to or from the mayor's
office, and the boys in blue will start swarming.

Gotta
say this for Kovat's evil brother, he was ugly as sin but he had style.
Actually, the style was probably put together by his wife. They arrived amid
flaming banners and flashing armor, a dazzling snake of color winding its way
down the hillside to the city's edge to be met by Kovat, his warriors, his
slaves and his templekeepers, looking for all the world like some Hollywood
production. Or maybe more like a British film with the reality of foot soldiers
in worn-over boot heels, shabby mismatched clothing, filthy hair, and dirt
ground into their blond complexions.

Peering
out from the shadow of my heavily painted eyelashes, I watched Kovat hail his
brother and bow in courtesy to the two ladies. They sat on tall horses, wearing
long flowing cloaks edged in fur and embroidery, their backs straight and their
proud heads high.

I
envied their ability to look so elegant while sitting on horses. I could not
see their faces beneath the folds of their scarves.

They
weren't the only mystery. Mounted on a gray horse and riding a few paces behind
the two women was a tall figure draped in black, a man, I presumed from the
height. His cloak hung in loose folds with the hood pulled so far forward, his
face was lost in its depth. Black gloved fingers, oddly long and thin, stuck
out from the wide sleeves. The cloak fluttered open revealing black trousers
tucked into tight black boots.

He
might as well not exist for all the attention given him by Kovat who looked
past the hooded figure and nodded at a man dressed in fur, saying, “Hail, son
of Wensel.”

A
chorus of greetings was exchanged, so many raised spears and swords gleaming in
the sunlight it became difficult to separate faces.

I
saw them all clearly that evening at the banquet table, in the glow of
candlelight and the reflection of gold serving bowls.

That
the barbarians seated themselves at a table and ate with some degree of grace
was a surprise to me, hadn't expected that. Up to now, my eating companions had
been Tarvik and Nance, both of whom sat cross-legged on the ground and held
food in their cupped hands. They weren't messy about it, but still, it was a
long way from sitting at a table and using a plate and spoon.

Woven
tapestries in rich colors covered every unpainted wall and bench in the great
hall. The tables, oiled to a sheen, were barely visible beneath platters of
brass, silver and gold, mounded high with fragrant cakes and dried fruits.

Aren't
some metals poisonous with hot foods? Oh well, I wasn't going to eat any of
that stuff. Enormous smoking hunks of meat, probably mutton or venison, drew
the attention of the others while I viewed with relief the bowls of green
vegetables as well as apples and berries, a change from my temple diet of root
vegetables and flat bread.

Tarvik
entered after the others were seated, followed closely by Artur. Pausing behind
Alakar, who sat beside her mother, Tarvik touched her shoulder, and when she
turned to see who it was, he bent forward, put his face close to hers and
whispered something in her ear.

The
boy was a born flirt, with that soft voice and wide grin. Alakar smiled back
and then looked down at her hands neatly folded in front of her on the table,
little Miss Prom Queen, all milky skin and red-gold hair and an amazing amount
of cleavage showing in the scooped neckline of her velvet dress. So what had he
whispered? Had he told her that she was the prettiest thing in the room? And
why should I care?

Tarvik
moved on behind the rows of guests until he reached his father and sat next to
him. Artur stepped back to stand, leaning against the wall.

A
row of men stood, personal guards, most of them dressed like Artur in woolen
tunics and boots, daggers tucked into belts, their heads uncovered. Behind Ober
stood the strange man in the black cloak, the hood still hiding his face. Even
here inside the hall his hands were encased in leather gloves. He was half a
head taller than the tallest of the others.

I
whispered to Nance, “Who's the hooded dude behind Ober?”

She
bent her head to hide her speech and whispered, “Don't let him see you looking
at him.”

“No,
I won't, but who is he?”

“Walking
death,” she whispered and I almost exclaimed, then covered my mouth with my
hand.

“Who?”
I hissed. “Does he have a name?”

“He
is Ober's servant, some say he is her slave, some say he is a magician from the
underworld. I have never heard a name.”

Underworld.
First mention I'd heard of that. I added to my knowledge of their lore, a
collection of gods, an afterlife and an underworld, sounded a bit like a
Wagnerian opera. Those always ended badly for the participants, didn't they?

In
the shadow I could see only that Tarvik wore dark clothing, but the candles
glittered on his jewelry. Around his neck hung heavy gold chains caught
together with round gold medallions. He bent over his platter and used a knife
and spoon, concentrating on his food and ignoring everyone around him. Rings
sparkled on all his fingers.

Silver
goblets overflowed with mead, musty and heavy, rather like beer gone flat. Also
warm. Nance warned me to go lightly but she didn't need to worry. No way would
I overindulge. Had anyone offered bottled water, I would have raised my hand.

The
goblets were emptied and refilled endlessly. The family of Kovat was there as
well as a number of other men who were favorites of Kovat, friends or warriors.
Several sat with ladies who wore velvet gowns and ornate necklaces. Heavy
perfumes mingled with the roasting smells and body odors.

Voices
rose to a low roar of sound, fists pounded, and an occasional guest stumbled
from the table to be lowered into a corner by watchful slaves as his legs gave
out beneath him. Liked that scenario. Didn't think it would work for a Seattle
bouncer.

At
the table's center, Kovat ruled. He rose, draped in fur and velvet and his
usual gold trim, a man who moved gracefully for all his scars. His hair glowed
in the candlelight.

With
his goblet raised above his head, he cried, “To the joining of our armies, my
brother, and our victory!”

His
half-brother Erlan was a big, greasy lump, clumsy, with pig eyes. He lifted a
goblet, turned to his wife and daughter, and bellowed, “And to the joining of
our families!”

Bowing
in their direction, Kovat said, “To your well being, my dear Ober, and to you,
Alakar.”

Ober's
eyelids tightened but she managed a slight smile.

Beside
me Nance whispered, “Kovat does not use their titles of lady and they despise
him for it, but they dare not frown.”

Ober's
hair shone copper in the candlelight; the shadows flickered along her smooth
cream-white skin, her almost colorless eyes, and her long graceful neck. Bits
of jewel and gold sparkled at her ears and throat. Like her mother, the
daughter Alakar had fine features and flawless skin, but her hair was a shade
of lighter red-gold, falling in a long braid down her back. Easy to see why
Tarvik wanted to marry her.

“Why
would Kovat want to insult them?” I whispered to Nance.

Nance
held a pear in front of her mouth and whispered behind it, “Kovat wishes to
remind them they are his inferiors.”

At
that moment Tarvik straightened, pushed away his empty platter, reached for his
goblet and glanced across the table toward us. Our glances met and he smiled at
me.

“But
I understood Tarvik is to wed Alakar,” I whispered to Nance.

She
nodded. “Indeed. And from this hour, the game goes either way.”

“Meaning
what?”

Nance
turned from me, reaching across the table toward a bowl of burnt chunks of
meat, still clutching in her other hand the unbitten pear. I would have
attributed her action to hunger if I hadn't glanced up and discovered both
Alakar and Ober werestaring at us. When I stared back, they looked away.

Not
until after the evening collapsed into spilled cups and side arguments and
Nance caught my hand to lead me quietly away through the confusion, did I learn
the cause of the tension. I saw Tarvik, watched closely by Ober, watch us
leave. His eyebrows rose up his forehead as though questioning where we were
going.

“And
may the Daughter protect him from the consequences of that error,” Nance
sighed, sinking down into a pile of sheepskins when we reached our chamber.
“Have you ever felt such jealousies? Winter drafts through open doors could not
be colder.”

“Family
gatherings get that way.”

Nance
laughed. “Ah, Stargazer. In your land do ruling brothers love each other?”

“We
don't have rulers. Not that kind, anyway. So explain. Why do Kovat and his
brother act like enemies?”

“They
are half-brothers, same father, different mothers.”

Tarvik
had mentioned that his grandmother had run away from his grandfather. So Erlan
was the child of a second wife. The brothers were equally scarred. I could see
some of Tarvik's grace in Kovat, but Erlan was a stumbling lump, nothing about
him to hint that he had once been a looker.

“What's
the problem about Tarvik and Alakar?”

Nance
curled up, hugging her bent legs and resting her face on her knees. “Kovat is
well-pleased by the joining of his line with Erlan's line because Kovat always
expects to win. See it this way, Stargazer. Once Tarvik is wed to Erlan's only
child, the death of Erlan would put the rule of his lands into Kovat's grasp
without a battle.”

“But
why should Erlan die before Kovat?”