Bertrice Small - Lara

“You speak mumbo jumbo,” Gaius Prospero sneered. “Lara is beautiful, but not important. What do you mean to do about the Outlands? They have stained their hands with our blood. Our dead cry out for vengeance!”

“The dead cry out for peace,” Delphinus of the Coastal Kings said.

“Aye!” Eskil the Shadow Prince agreed. “If the Outlanders are willing to accept a restoration of the treaty then we are wise to accept it.”

“You men of the Desert are always eager to avoid danger,” the Forest Lord Everard scoffed.

“And you men of the Forest blow hot though you be cold,” Lothair said. “You have no secrets that can be hid from the Shadow Princes, my lord. Beware lest I reveal them to Hetar. Do you understand me, my lords Albern and Everard?”

The two Forest Lords grew pale, and were suddenly silent.

Gaius Prospero’s ears almost visibly perked. A secret? A secret of such power that it could quiet the most contentious among them? He must remember to tell Jonah. Jonah could learn what was hidden that could frighten the Foresters. Then he would have power over them.

“I think,” King Archeron said, “that we have heard all we need to hear. It is my opinion that we accept the most generous terms offered us by the Outlanders. How do each of you vote? Dareh, Squire of the Midlands?”

“Aye-and do not frown at me, Gaius Prospero. This was an ill-advised venture. We cannot afford a full-scale war, at least at this time,” the Squire said.

“Gaius Prospero?”

“Nay!” the Master of the Merchants said with ill-disguised anger.

“Albern and Everard of the Forest Lords?”

“We will abstain from the vote, my lord,” Albern said, and Everard nodded in agreement.

“Abstain?” Gaius Prospero almost shrieked. “You were eager enough last year.”

The two Forest Lords ignored him.

“King Delphinus?”

“Aye!”

“King Pelias?”

“Aye!”

“Prince Eskil?”

“Aye!”

“Prince Lothair?”

“Aye!”

“The vote is five ayes. One nay. And two abstentions. A majority votes that we accept the Outlanders’ offer. Now, will you agree to burying our dead with discretion?”

The High Council members all agreed, though Gaius Prospero was reluctant.

“And will you agree that the Guild of Mercenaries must be made to care for the women and children left behind? They cannot force them from the hovels, or deny them a daily ration.”

“The guild must rebuild its ranks,” Gaius Prospero protested. “Where are these new men and their families to live? You will cause riots if you do not give them what they have always had.”

“Many new to the ranks will be men alone. Have the guild assign them to hovels. The women in residence can care for them. If a man comes with a family then place two widows with their children in one hovel, and give the other hovel to the newcomer,” King Archeron said. “It is not that difficult a situation to manage, Gaius Prospero. And you will go to the guild to explain it all. After all, you are partly responsible for what has happened even if you won’t admit to it. Now, if no one has anything else to say in the matter I will call for the vote.”

The vote was taken and it was unanimous, for while he feared the Mercenary Guild’s outrage, Gaius Prospero feared more being called unsympathetic by the people. Things had not gone at all as he and Jonah had planned tonight. He needed time to think. Time to consider his other options. Time to speak with his clever Jonah.

He would go to his favorite Pleasure House, to his favorite Pleasure Woman. The fair Anora would know just how to soothe him. She would calm his fears with her sweetness and her sexual skills. He had been bad, and he needed Anora’s whip on his bottom. He needed her initial disapproval, and then finally her approval when she permitted him to have her body. He would not go home to the carping Vilia, who claimed she loved him. He did not want her love. He wanted Anora’s sweet abuse. He always felt so much better after she had punished him. Her whip was good for his manroot.

“The High Council is dismissed,” King Archeron said. “I will give the order for the mercenaries to be buried.”

“Come, Wilmot,” Lothair said, and he wrapped his dark cloak about the man. “I will take you to a place of safety now. Your mother is already there.”

He was not really afraid, but once again Wilmot closed his eyes, and when a moment later the prince said they had arrived, he opened them. He was standing in a small comfortable room, his mother was sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“You are in my palace,” Lothair said, “and you will be well taken care of here. Your chamber is next to your mother’s. My servants will see you have everything you need. You are free to wander in our valley of horses. You will meet Og, the Forest giant who aided Lara in her escape from the Forest Lords-your news of her will be of interest to him. When my time in the City is done I will return here, and we will talk further. You are a man used to work, and so we must decide what you will do.”

“Thank you, my lord Lothair,” Wilmot said gratefully.

“Nay, thank you,” the Shadow Prince replied. “I had expected a worse fight tonight, but Archeron was more than well-informed. The Squire is a decent fellow at heart. I could see he thought of his own folk when you spoke. As for the Forest Lords, we know their secret, and that is how we will keep them in line from now on. But without your testimony we might not have had so easy a time.”

“Did Lara really kill the Head Forester’s brother?” Wilmot asked curiously.

“Yes, she did. It was her first kill, and we were proud she found the courage. Durga was the Head Forester then, not his brother Enda. But when this younger brother was reminded that Durga’s death meant his own elevation he began to feel less aggravated about the head at his feet,” Lothair chuckled. Then with a wave of his hand he transported himself back to his apartment in the City, where Eskil was waiting for him.

The other Shadow Prince was lounging with a rather large goblet of wine in his elegant hand. “They are safe?” and he smiled when Lothair nodded, helping himself to wine and sprawling upon another couch. “I followed Gaius Prospero to a Pleasure House,” Eskil said. “The people in the streets have been roused against him it seems,” he chuckled. “They cried out insults at him, and shook their fists. I think he will be busy restoring his reputation for some time, and we need not worry.”

“We must always worry,” Lothair said. “Gaius Prospero will be concerned with his good name, but Jonah will be considering ways to advance his master’s career and so advance his own. He is more the enemy than the fat merchant lordling, my brother.”

“Who will send word to the Outlands?” Eskil asked.

“I will speak with King Archeron tomorrow. They must send a delegation to the Outlands, but to whom? They have no central government, and we do not want to insult any of these clan family chieftains. Archeron is the current head of the council. It must be his decision. But I suppose if they want we can go to discover the best way of handling this matter for them tomorrow. But now, I need sleep. I have done much magic today.”

“Then rest, my brother, for we will probably be in the thick of it tomorrow. I suspect we must work swiftly lest Gaius Prospero try to subvert our will.”

“The people will keep the Master of the Merchants busy for the interim,” Lothair said with a smile. “It will be a difficult winter here in the City, and they will blame him for it, too.” Then drinking his wine down, he sought his bed.

Gaius Prospero was so distraught by what had happened, and by the people’s disfavor as he had ridden through the streets after the council meeting, that he remained two days at his favorite Pleasure House. When he finally arrived home he learned that his wife had taken their children and gone to their country house.

“It is better, my lord,” Jonah said. “We have work to do.”

“Have you any idea of what has happened? I lost complete control of the High Council. The Squire voted against me! Why he has suddenly gained a conscience I do not know,” Gaius Prospero said irritably. “And the Coastal Kings were more than well-informed, Jonah. They knew everything, and so did those damned Shadow Princes! And the people cry out against me as if I was responsible for the deaths of our mercenaries, but I did not kill them. The Outlanders killed them. If anything good at all came out of this, it is that I have learned the Forest Lords have a great secret, and the Shadow Princes know it. I want to know it, Jonah! If the Outlands are out of my reach for now, perhaps the Forest realm is not. There has always been too much of it in my opinion. If I can learn this secret then perhaps I can control the Forest Lords.”

“Indeed, my lord, you could,” Jonah murmured, his facile brain contemplating the possibilities. There were trees to be cut and turned into lumber for the booming building trade. They would harvest the trees on the edge of the Forest first which would open up more land for the Midland farmers. The Squire would stop complaining about the incursion the City was beginning to make into his Midlands, and they could regain his trust-and more importantly, one hundred percent of the Midlands vote in the High Council. So much to do, Jonah thought. And then he recalled the motto he would take one day. Make haste slowly. He smiled and then, remembering where he was, he said, “Perhaps, my lord, we acted too hastily in beginning our annexation of the Outlands. Let us consider our other alternatives.”

“What of the people?” Gaius Prospero wanted to know.

“We will soothe them, but not quite yet. Allow them the opportunity to express their anger. Then at the midwinter festival you will release some foodstuffs from your warehouses. You will recall the festival was established long ago to help take people’s minds off the gloom and scarcity of the season. This generous gesture on your part will go a long way to easing the tensions now between you and our citizens.”

“You must go to the Guild of Mercenaries for me,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course, my lord,” Jonah responded smoothly. “Tell me what the council desires done, and I will speak with them.”

“I could not do without you, Jonah,” Gaius Prospero said.

“Of course you could, my lord,” the secretary flattered. “All I have learned I have learned from you. And you are the most respected man in Hetar.”

Gaius Prospero smiled, well pleased. “I am, aren’t I?” he agreed. “If Vilia is not here then perhaps I shall return to Anora’s arms for another day or two. You have enough to keep you busy, do you not?”

“Indeed, my lord, I do,” Jonah agreed. His clever mind already pondered the opportunities presenting themselves with this new turn of events.

“I WILL GO TO THE OUTLANDS,” Archeron, the current head of the High Council, told his brothers, Delphinus and Pelias. “My term of office ends with the next moon cycle.”

“Let Lothair transport you,” Pelias said. “I do not trust Gaius Prospero in general, but right now he suffers from the people’s displeasure, and may try to seek revenge on those he feels have wronged him. I understand a mob attempted to storm the Golden District yesterday. They were shouting his name combined with some most unfavorable epithets. They seem to be holding him entirely responsible for what happened to the mercenaries. The Crusader Knights were called out to keep order, for the Guild of Mercenaries would not. Their ranks are weakened, and they must house and feed the widows and orphans of those killed in the Outlands. They are not happy about it.”

“They can afford it,” Delphinus responded. “They received a fair portion of Gaius Prospero’s thievery. But I agree with Pelias. Let Lothair use his magic to send you home.”

“Very well,” Archeron replied. He was a tall handsome man with wavy silver hair, and eyes the color of aquamarines.

He disliked the City, and would not mind avoiding a long trek through the winter landscape back to his own province where winter came only gently. Winter in the province of the Coastal Kings was a short season when the rains arrived. On fair days the sun sparkled on the sea making it almost seem like a basket of the finest sapphires, aquamarines and emeralds had been tipped among the waves.

“With whom will you speak in the Outlands?” Pelias asked.

“It would seem that the one they call Lord Vartan is their leader. This lack of a centralized government in the Outlands makes it difficult to know how to deal with them, but I shall ask Lord Rendor of the Felan for his counsel.”

“Will you go to this Lord Vartan?” Pelias wondered.