Errand of Mercy (6 page)

The men fell to their work. “I suppose in a way we should all be flattered,” said Jacob wryly, carting off the remains of a chair. “Whoever is after us certainly thinks enough of us to send their very best.”

The smell of the ocean was in the afternoon air when the five bruised and battered visitors heard a knock on their door. They arose, weapons readied, but it was only Lord Garkim in the hall. He wore a wide-sleeved red silk shirt, blue dress trousers, and polished black boots. A white tabard was belted over this, a colorful blue sailing ship embroidered over his chest.

and show you the way myself.”

“We are grateful for your attention,” responded Miltiades, returning the bow. He led the group out of the room. Their armor was reasonably well-polished, thanks to Noph, though each thought his own armor stank to the high heavens. Better this, however, than being caught unarmored and unprepared.

Garkim led the five visitors through two grand halls, on which assorted portraits of kings and battlefields hung. Tilted shafts of sunlight fell from windows and skylights overhead. Brown-skinned maids in red-and-white dresses stopped and lowered their eyes as the procession passed, then scurried away, wondering why the knights did not doff their armor like sensible people.

Garkim said little except to greet the councilors and soldiers he met on the way. He appeared to ignore his visitors, but he picked up their thoughts and learned of their encounter with the red giant. Garkim thought it had all the earmarks of a bloodforge assassination; he could easily guess who was behind the attack, but that was for the mage-king to handle later. Meanwhile he was puzzled that the visitors made no overt mention of the attack.

Noph gave a nervous smile at Ffolk and Mar alike as he passed. He made a mental note to wash carefully when he could. Some of the Ffolk here had some sort of rash or fungus on their necks and arms. The heat and humidity were no doubt to blame. He then mulled over the fight with the red giant. He was proud of himself, but at the same time he felt a slow anger with the paladins, especially with Miltiades. He’d saved them and what was his reward? Polishing sweaty armor. If only Aleena could have seen him in the fight. He wondered what the lovely spellcaster was doing at this moment, hoping she herself was unharmed.

The dining hall was not huge, by Waterdeep standards, but it was respectable enough. The air smelled of a light burnt incense that made Noph’s nose itch; it was pleasant and annoying at the same time. The central table was covered with an elaborately stitched cloth showing a procession of fantastic animals and monsters, and subdued curtains and royal paintings dominated the dark wood-plank walls.

Serving girls showed each armored man to a seat (heavily built, fortunately) and placed a small cup of red liquid in front of him before hurrying away. Garkim took the seat at the head of the table, Miltiades and Kern on his right and left. Miltiades placed his shield against a wall before he sat down. Noph sat the farthest away from Garkim, on the other side of Jacob from Kern. He picked up his cup and smelled it, then took a large sip. He abruptly choked and coughed, spitting a shower of red droplets all over himself and the tablecloth before him.

“Our wine sometimes has that effect,” said Garkim, as if nothing had happened. “It is rather strong and has a few local fruits and spices added to it during the fermentation process. I will inquire about the identity of the spices, if you wish.”

“It is not necessary,” said Miltiades, watching Jacob thump Noph on the back. He sighed and carefully picked up his own cup, sniffing the bouquet. The wine certainly was unusual, very much an acquired taste: quite bitter and strong, but not poisonous. His ring would have told him if it was harmful. A gift from his wife, the ring could detect poison within one yard of the wearer—a most useful and thoughtful present, indeed.

“We are having sea fowl this afternoon,” said Garkim. “It was a traditional dish of my people, before the Ffolk came. To our amazement, the Ffolk made the dish even better. It is not as spicy as it formerly was, but I hope you will find it palatable.”

Kern caught Miltiades’s gaze, asking a silent question. The paladin leader shrugged. Kern lifted his own cup and swished its red contents around. “Your lordship,” he began, “I have a few questions about your kingdom that I hope you can answer. We knew next to nothing about this land when we arrived here, and we are all quite curious about your realm. We don’t wish to bruise your hospitality by doing so.”

Lord Garkim smiled. His white teeth flashed. “I will be all answers, good sir, but I have some questions for you of my own. I have told you much about our fair and fortunate land, but I know next to nothing about your homeland, or yourselves— or the mission that brought you here.” He waited expectantly.

The men at the table traded looks. Miltiades took a deep breath. “We came here from Waterdeep, a great city far to the northwest. We were sent on a quest to recover a noble woman from Waterdeep, Lady Eidola, who was kidnapped and taken away.” He paused for a second or two. “The kidnappers made their escape through a gatelike spell, something similar to that archway through which we arrived. We were able to determine that the gate led directly to this region. We suspect it led, in fact, to this city.”

Miltiades stared directly into the councilor’s eyes. The councilor stared back without blinking.

“There is the possibility that your belief as to the destination of the kidnappers was mistaken, perhaps,” said Garkim, without inflection.

“No chance whatsoever,” said the paladin quietly.

“Ah.” The councilor nodded, still not breaking his gaze. “Explain to me, if you will, why you think this lady—Eidola, is it?—to be within the walls of Eldrinpar.”

“The mage Khelben Arunsun, the Blackstaff, foremost mage of Waterdeep, scried the Utter East, looking for the Lady Eidola,” Miltiades replied. “His scrying magic failed to see the other side of the portal from Undermountain to the Utter East. Thus he believes Eidola must be somewhere in that area to which his magic cannot penetrate. In other words, within this city.”

Garkim was silent a moment. “This is grave news,” he said. “Would you describe this lady for me, please?”

Miltiades thought, his posture relaxing. “Lady Eidola has long auburn hair and silver-gray eyes. Her skin is pale, like ours, but tanned from the sun. She has many freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. She would be about a hand’s width taller than yourself, well muscled, high spirited. She was … she was wearing a long, white wedding dress when she was taken. She was taken away on her wedding day, before the ceremony was completed.”

Garkim shook his head in sympathy. “She was to be your wife?” he asked.

Several of the men instantly shook their heads and said “no” at the same time. “No,” said Miltiades as well. “She was to be the wife of a great lord and warrior of Waterdeep, Piergeiron Paladinson. Her loss has crippled him and disrupted the city. We are his allies and have vowed to find her.”

Lord Garkim appeared shocked. “That is outrageous. I can hardly believe someone from our city would have done this evil deed, but Doegan has many enemies who would be too willing to make it appear that this city is guilty of harboring such criminals. I will have to see tomorrow what resources we can make available to you in completing your quest.”

Miltiades reflected on this latter point and seemed on the verge of saying something more, but stopped. Serving maids had arrived through the doorway behind Garkim with plates of fruit. The conversation halted until the women were gone.

“So,” Lord Garkim said, settling back into his seat, “you say that your only purpose here is to rescue this unhappy woman?”

His words had their desired effect. The five men traded tense looks. Miltiades spoke quickly. “We are saying that we are sworn not to return until we have found her,” he said with feeling.

“Ah,” said Garkim, with curious satisfaction. He seemed to have expected that answer. “Then you will return to your home in Waterdeep with her when this is over.”

“Well, my home is in Phlan, a great city east of Waterdeep,” corrected Kern, happy to change the topic. “Miltiades and I are both from there. Trandon, across from me, is from Cormyr, and my buddy Jacob… Jacob is from everywhere, to hear him tell it, anyway.” He grinned at his comrade, sitting to his left. “Only our young friend, Freeman Kastonoph, at the end here, is from Waterdeep.”

“You must be greatly trusted and highly experienced to have been called upon to undertake this mission,” said Garkim, making it a statement of fact. “Have you considered how you will return home when your work here is completed? I am not trying to hurry you, you must understand.” He waved at the table. “We have a meal, after all. But the matter of the loss of the Stone Arch gate …”

Miltiades selected a bright yellow apple from the plate of fruit before him, rotating it in his fingers. It was flawless. He could see his reflection in the polished skin. “We will have to explore our options,” he admitted. “The loss of the gate was not anticipated by ourselves, either. We harbor no wish to impose on your hospitality for long.” He put the apple down and looked at his comrades.

Jacob took the cue. He leaned forward in his seat. “Now that we’re all comfortable, I wondered if you could tell us how your emperor—urn, I apologize, your lordship, but in the rush I seem to have forgotten his—”

“Mage-King Aetheric III,” said both Miltiades and Garkim at the same moment. They looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Jacob laughed. “Yes, Mage-King Aetheric in … I was wondering how he knew we were coming. We didn’t announce our mission, of course, as we did not wish to draw attention. You understand.”

Garkim smiled. “Obviously, he is a wizard king. We do not have many wizards in our land, and certainly few of his ability. He surprises all in Doegan, almost every day. We have become rather accustomed to being surprised, I fear. When he told me you were coming, I was taken aback, as no one has come though the Stone Arch in many years. But that the emperor would know of your coming—” He raised his hands in mock surrender and smiled. “As I’ve said, we have grown used to that sort of thing.”

“Your king has a bloodforge?” asked Noph, about to bite into an orange he had peeled.

The atmosphere at the table changed in a second. Somewhere, several of those present tensed simultaneously. Noph sensed it, and was suddenly terrified he’d said something wrong, something disastrous.

Lord Garkim stared down the table at Noph. His smile was wooden, and he dropped his words into the heavy silence. “Why, yes. I said earlier that he did. The mage-king has a bloodforge, as does every ruler of the Five Kingdoms.”

“Would the bloodforge give him the power to foretell our coming?” asked Kern, stepping into the breach. His smile was gone.

Garkim’s smile vanished as well. “It is well within reason,” he replied. The silence resumed; plainly Garkim did not relish further discussion along these lines.

“Would it be possible,” Miltiades said carefully, “for your emperor to use his bloodforge in such a manner as to magically cloak this city or this kingdom, so that no one outside it could spy upon

it?”

Garkim stared at Miltiades and blinked several times. “What an interesting question,” he said at last. He looked as if he was about to laugh, but the laughter would not come. “You can understand that the answer to that would be of great interest to many powers who were not friendly to us, and they might wish to gain that answer to benefit themselves but do great harm to us. Why do you ask me this, if you do not mind my question?”

Miltiades looked thoughtful. “As I have told you, before our arrival we were able to determine that this city is warded in such a way that it cannot be spied upon. You must understand that we made every attempt to locate Lady Eidola, and except for this we would have never considered such an area of inquiry. Lady Eidola’s loss, however, has thrown Waterdeep into great chaos. Her recovery is paramount to that great city’s future, perhaps even to its survival. As a result, we came here ourselves to seek her. Were you in our position, I believe you would have done the same.”

Had I been in the same position as you, Garkim thought, I would have found the missing woman by now and slain her kidnappers as well. He took a short breath. “Of course,” he said, “of course. Your actions are understandable.” He looked down at the tablecloth as if looking through it into the infinite distance beyond it. “I will consult with my liege this evening and discuss your mission with him. You must understand that—”

“Lord Garkim.” The voice came from nowhere and filled the room, vibrating bone and wood.

Miltiades and Kern were out of their seats in a second. Kern’s chair fell over backwards. Both gripped their warhammers as they looked about, ready to tear them free of their belt straps. Trandon, too, was half out of his chair, one hand frozen in the act of reaching inside the tooled leather vest he wore over his light armor. Only Garkim, Noph, and Jacob remained seated, the latter two swivel-ing around with wide eyes to locate the speaker.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” responded Garkim, a moment after the noise died down.

“Bring the visitors to us in one half-hour,” finished the voice. The five visitors looked but saw no one else in the room with them, not even a floating mouth or other phantasm.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Garkim waited for further instructions, but none were forthcoming. “Well,” he said, looking around the table, “perhaps His Majesty can clear up these matters for you in person. We will miss the sea fowl, however, which is a shame. We may as well finish the fruit.”

“We are prepared to see the mage-king now,” said Miltiades in a hard voice.

“It would accomplish nothing,” Garkim said, unruffled. “He would take no notice of you even if you held your hammers in front of his face. You must be familiar with wizards in your own lands. Are not some of them like that?”

“Your Majesty!” shouted Miltiades. He turned, eyes up, his warhammer lowered until his fingers held it at his side. “Your Majesty!” he shouted at the walls of the room.