Authors: Brock E. Deskins
Adam nodded. “I am no stranger to spoiled people of privilege, but he really pushes it to the extreme.”
“He’s just so annoying.”
“He’s whiny.”
“He’s insistent.”
“He’s oblivious.”
“He’s dead.”
Both sets of eyes locked onto Liam standing near the edge of the clearing.
“What?” Garran asked.
Liam jerked a thumb over his should. “Yeah…he’s dead.”
“What the hell happened?” Adam asked as he gazed down at Elroy’s corpse.
Garran knelt near the body and rolled a sprig between his fingers. “Rapture root. From the looks of it, he grazed like a goddam goat on the stuff. You see, this is why I don’t quit. Relapse binges are a sonofabitch.”
“Why is he…stiff? Shouldn’t that go away when his heart stopped?”
“It’s how rapture root works. A little bit makes you euphoric and amorous. A moderate dose opens up the veins, makes you horny as hell, and rock hard. Too much, and the veins to most of your vital organs clamp shut, including that one.”
“The penis is not a vital organ.”
“Maybe not yours, but for the rest of us whose isn’t vestigial...” Garran looked at Liam. “You were supposed to be watching him!”
“How is this my fault?”
“I told you to keep an eye on him so nothing happened to him!”
“He said he had to go relieve himself! I thought he meant he had to piss, not go wank himself to death!”
“He’s right, Garran,” Adam said. “It’s not his fault.”
Garran ran his hand through his hair as he paced, strode over to Elroy’s body, and began kicking him in the side. “Stupid, fancy boy, corpse boner, sonofabitch!”
“Garran, he’s dead. Please stop abusing his carcass.”
Garran spun on Adam. “Do you have any idea how bad this is?”
Liam laughed. “Yeah, it’s like getting a look into your future isn’t it?”
Garran elicited an incoherent roar and charged. “I’ll show you your future, you little prick!”
Adam swept a leg into Garran’s path, tripping him headlong onto the ground. Garran struck the ground with a grunt as most of his air left his body.
Adam knelt with his knee on Garran’s back. “Can you not kill Liam just now?”
Garran managed to pull in some air. “Fine. He’s probably not far off from the truth anyway.”
Adam helped him to his feet. “What do we do now?”
Garran looked from Elroy to Adam as he gnashed his teeth and thought. “You!”
“Me?” Adam asked.
Garran nodded and smiled. “You’re god-touched. You can do something.”
“…No, I can’t.”
Garran wagged a finger in Adam’s face. “You hesitated.”
“…No I didn’t.”
“You just did it again!”
“I cannot bring back the dead, Garran!”
“Yeah, but you can do something. I saw it in your eyes!”
Adam stepped back and took a deep breath. “It was a stupid, fleeting thought.”
“My foot is going to have a fleeting encounter with your ass if you don’t start talking and making with the magic!”
“It is forbidden dark magic! Please don’t make me do this.”
Garran pointed at Elroy. “That is the only chance we have of succeeding in our mission. Without him, we can’t get Callum’s boats. Without Callum’s boats, we can’t get our army into Leva. If we can’t get our army into Leva, we can’t get your sister out. Now, if I have to cut him open, wear him like a suit, and move him about like a puppet, I will!” Garran shouted as he danced around waving his arms. “So what do you have to do in order to make that happen?”
Adam swallowed and stared at his feet. “We can put his face on someone else and have them pretend to be him.”
Garran nodded as he considered the idea. “Yeah, we just need to find someone of similar height and build and teach him to talk and act like Elroy. He would only need to pull off the ruse long enough for Callum’s ships to set sail.”
“It will never work, Garran. Isobel dotes on her brother. She will know it is not him immediately.”
“She doesn’t know what happened to him in Urqua. He’s been gone for a couple of years. Who knows how that kind of imprisonment and torture can alter a person’s voice, mannerisms, or even memories?”
“They did not torture him in the least. He lived better than most of their upper class.”
“She doesn’t know that. The man was half-boggled before he went to Urqua. Trust me; this will work. So, how do we get his face on someone else?”
Adam grew pale and looked almost faint. “We literally take his face and put it on someone else.”
Garran blinked several times. “You mean like cut it off?”
“Unless you know of another way to remove someone’s face, then yes, Garran, we cut the damn thing off!”
“Relax. You don’t have to bite my face off.”
“You are such an ass.”
***
Despite its somewhat remote location, Lukh was a bustling town in Artemisia’s northern reaches. It was located in the heart of a fertile valley and produced much of the nation’s food.
The inns and drinking houses were lively as hundreds of farmers and laborers relaxed after a hard day of toiling. Garran was somewhat sober, comparatively speaking, despite this being the third drinking house he had frequented this evening. His mission this night was not one of drunken debauchery but of finding a suitable candidate for his plans.
Garran stood on his tiptoes and gazed over the heads of the crowd in search for someone who might fit the bill for what he needed. His eyes locked onto a man sitting alone at the bar who bore a slight resemblance to Elroy. He worked his way between the tables and small groups of mostly men reciting lines from plays or poetry. It was a thespian bar, and Garran had not chosen it at random.
Of course, merely matching the dead prince’s look was the least of Garran’s challenges, but as he drew near and saw the man staring into the bottom of an empty cup as if mourning the death of a lost friend, he became optimistic.
The stool next to him was occupied, but Garran made it vacant by grabbing the young man sitting on it by the upper arm, less than gently pulling him off, and pushing him away. The man looked to about to protest his rude treatment, but Garran slapped a hand onto one of the reaping blades hanging on his hip and cut short any complaint he wanted to issue.
“Can I buy you a drink?” Garran asked the man next to him as he sat down.
The man turned an eye his direction while still holding the empty cup. “Seeing as how I am once again bereft of coin and booze, such a thing would be as welcome as it is necessary.”
Garran motioned to the bartender and slid a few coins across the counter. “Garran Holt.”
The man took the drink set before him and smiled. “Friedrich Voss. Thank you.”
“Are you an actor, Friedrich?”
“Like most everyone here, I am actor, poet, minstrel, and in truly bad times, prostitute.”
Garran smiled and nodded. “Older women of means and boredom?”
Friedrich sighed and took a drink. “Only on the truly good days.”
“Perhaps I can make this a good day. How would you like a job?”
“Acting or prostitution? Mind you, neither is a deal breaker, but one requires considerably more…preparation than the other.”
Garran bobbed his head from side to side. “Honestly, it could be a bit of both.”
“Let us refill this cup before you tell me how much of each you shall require.”
Garran motioned for a refill. “It is an ongoing role, and the man I need you to play is a bit…fanciful. In order to maintain character, you might at times need to play that part to its fullest.”
“How ongoing is this role?”
“Well, it is several days of hard riding to Merribourne. After that, you will need to stay in character for at least a week. You can then vacate the role if you wish, but I think you might choose to continue it.”
“What exactly is this role?”
“Elroy Sinclair, bother to Queen Isobel Bolten.”
Friedrich gave Garran a quizzical look. “You want me to play Elroy? Is this some sort of vanity play the Prince is producing?”
“No, I want you to be Elroy in real life. You are going to take his place at the palace. You will assimilate his life and all of the benefits that come with it.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Garran discreetly showed his agent pin. “I have a job that requires me to deliver Elroy to his sister. Circumstances beyond my control make it impossible for me to deliver the real Elroy, so now I need a substitute.”
“I consider myself a convincing actor, but I hardly think I can fool the man’s sister.”
“You can, and I will explain it in greater detail away from here if you are amenable to proposition.”
“Well,” Friedrich said with a sigh, “this does interrupt my plans of hanging myself soon, but I suppose whether a gallows in Merribourne or a tree in Lukh is of little difference. At least I might not die hungry and sober.”
Garran clapped Friedrich on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit!”
***
The clopping of horse hooves heralded the approach of riders. Adam and Liam made ready to escape through the window of the old hunting cabin in which they hid should anyone other than Garran appear. They both relaxed when Garran opened the door and entered with another man, both of whom strode in on unsteady legs.
“I got our guy!” Garran announced. “Friedrich, this is Prince Pickle Tits and Lord Paininmyass.”
“Pleased to meet you all.” Friedrich tried to make a sweeping bow and promptly fell on his face.
Adam watched the man climb back to feet. “Garran, does he even know why he’s here? I absolutely refuse to do this on someone who is not entirely willing and doing so under their own volition.”
“He told me everything,” Friedrich slurred. “I am to be a prince of Artemisia.”
“And did he tell you what that entailed?”
“You are going to cut our faces off and switch them. Garran said you could use magic,” Friedrich snorted, “because you’re a big faery!”
Garran and Friedrich burst into uncontrolled laughter and did not stop until they were both gasping for breath.
“Wonderful,” Adam replied dryly. “Do you want to start now?”
“I sure as hell don’t want to wait until I’m sober.”
Adam motioned to a hastily constructed table made of small logs bound together with cord. Friedrich took notice of the form already lying upon it and covered by a blanket.
“Is that him?” he asked.
“No, it’s a different dead guy we carted halfway across the kingdom,” Liam answered.
Friedrich narrowed his eyes then chortled as he lay next to the body. “I guess it was a stupid question.”
Adam said, “You do understand that this change is permanent?”
Friedrich nodded. “My face failed to achieve fame and wealth. Perhaps this one shall do better.”
“I am going to use magic to put you to sleep. Try not to resist it.”
Adam let his magic flow and put the actor into a deep, unshakable slumber. He pulled back the blanket from Elroy’s face and studied it once more, committing every contour to memory. He picked up a small, sharp knife, sighed, and began to cut along Elroy’s hairline, behind the ear, and beneath the jaw.
Liam clamped a hand over his mouth when Adam began peeling Elroy’s face off. “I think I’ll go wait outside.”
“I think I’ll join you,” Garran said.
“Sure, leave me to suffer the grisly details alone,” Adam said bitterly. “Cowards!”
Adam repeated the cut on Friedrich, swapped faces, and used his magic to close the wound, leaving only the faintest of scars the width of a strand of spider silk. He then molded the bone and tissue beneath like a sculptor working clay until the effect was as complete as he could make it.
Some two hours after he began, Adam stepped out of the cabin and took a deep breath. “It’s done.”
Garran and Liam followed him back inside and looked upon his handiwork.
“Wow, it’s uncanny,” Garran exclaimed.
“It is awful,” Adam replied. “I will have to spend the rest of my life repenting and atoning for the sins you force me to commit.”
“How is this sinful? Imagine the implications of this kind of work just within the Diplomacy Corps.”
“Which is one reason why it is forbidden!”
“Okay, forget espionage and deceit. Could you replace other body parts?”
Adam looked at Garran out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean
other body part
s?”
“You know—like if someone lost a hand or something. Maybe a person was born with a shriveled appendage or other disfigurement. Could you replace it with another?”
“Garran, I am not going to transplant your penis.”
“Whoa, where did that come from? Nobody was talking about penises here. But you could do it?”
Adam turned and walked away. “I am going to bed.”
“That wasn’t a no!”
“No!”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both!”
***
Adam left Friedrich sleeping throughout the rest of the night. Feeling physically, mentally, and spiritually drained, Adam lay out on his bedroll on the cabin floor and slept as well. Liam soon followed, but Garran stayed up, as usual, doing whatever it was he did for most of the night when any sane person would be asleep.