23
Yunas and Bathis had the target in sight, and followed at the most extreme distance they could. As Tayron’s inquiry had indicated, the servant had been reclusive and difficult to find, but the two knights made good time getting to him by sheer luck. In the deep dark of the passage, the keen eyes of the knights spied the servant moving toward a door, which must have been to his quarters.
“I don’t like all this sneaky stuff,” Yunas whispered once they saw the target.
“Never bothered me,” Bathis murmured, “and since we have the god of trickery behind us, it’s practically a guaranteed thing.”
“I don’t like guaranteed things. It’s like killing a bunch of untrained peasants. It’s not right.”
“Well, we’re still the ones in the tough position, with the odds against us.”
“But still . . .”
“If it makes you feel better,” Bathis said, “you might think that this could be a trap.”
“I get depressed when I’m disappointed.”
“There’s no winning with you.”
They plunged ahead before the target could close the door behind him. Knocking the door open and hurling the servant back, Bathis said, with a show of commiseration, “we’d like to have a word with you.”
The man was young and fair faced, with distinctively bland brown hair and a broad scar on his neck that had helped them identify him. He looked like an opportunist from the pleading look on his face. That would make things easier. Bathis could give him a hundred slow, painful reasons to see complying with them as the opportunity of a lifetime.
“Wh . . . what do you want?”
Bathis smiled. It was the right question. “You know – the king. What you’ve been doing to him.”
The servant quickly drew out a tablet from his vest pocket. Bathis allowed him to do it without a word of warning because he knew how this game would go. “If you try anything,” the servant said, “this pill will kill me, and you won’t be able to prove a thing.”
“If you were going to take that pill, you would have done it.” Bathis slapped the man’s hand lightly and the pill fell loose. No one went after it. “Smart. Just as smart as I thought you’d be. Ready to cooperate?”
“Depends on what you can guarantee me.”
“Well, your baseline guarantee is that I won’t kill you. If you do well enough, Lord Jaksen will speak on your behalf in the king’s presence. I don’t know what more you can expect.”
After as much silence as he dared, calculated to allow him to pretend to be an honorable man being given no choice, the servant replied, “all right, I’ll come with you.”
“We’d better not let any of his old friends see him,” Bathis reminded Yunas. “You scout ahead. I’ll keep a close eye on him and any spies that might be following behind. And you,” he said to the servant, “bring a bottle of the stuff you used.”
Yunas lead the way back, so that the first thing Tayron saw when they returned was his dissatisfied face.
“No luck?” Tayron asked unbelievingly. His trust in the trickster god was tenuous at best, and he was prepared to abort the plan on any sign that the winds of luck and fate were changing.
“On the contrary,” Bathis said, shoving the servant into the room, “he’s our new best friend.” He closed the door ominously.
Clearing his throat and readying himself, Tayron gestured for the servant to take a seat. The man relaxed with the knight’s civilized, welcoming gesture. Tayron gave him every reason to feel comfortable. It was important to make the confused figure feel like he was now working for the right side.
“Something to drink?”
“No. No, thank you.”
“How long do you have before you’re missed?”
“I was about to go to sleep, so until the morning call.”
“No clandestine meetings?”
Now that he was in it, the servant decided not to hedge or play both sides. He wanted to give this side every reason to trust him, now that they knew what was going on and Lord Quenari’s plans were in shambles. “Not now that the lady is near the city. She sends a messenger who slips a note under my door whenever they want me to . . . do it.”
“By ‘the lady’ you mean Damial’s sister?”
“Yes.”
Tayron leaned back and signaled Havelin to question the servant. The mage tried to maintain the tone the knight had set. “Might I see the potion you have been using?”
The servant handed Havelin a small vial in which was a clear liquid indistinguishable from water.
“That’s one dose.”
“Do you know what it’s called?”
“They called it the essence of the moon’s bliss, but that must be a code name, since I know it’s not just a plant essence.”
“No, that’s its formal name, though you’re right – the plant essence is just the first ingredient. I know the potion to counteract its effects, Tayron. Do you want me to fix it up along with the other one we discussed about before?”
“Will the king come out of the drugging aware that he was being controlled?”
Havelin shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how well he gets out of it. He’s been effected for so long, he’ll certainly notice something if he isn’t too uncoordinated. There will be no other withdrawal symptoms except disorientation, though. For as long as this man’s been giving him the drug, the king’s been addicted to it. That will end when the counter potion is given, but he will immediately lapse back into addiction if he’s ever reintroduced to this.” He shook the offensive vial menacingly. “So that will have to be prevented. The counter-potion will have trouble working twice.”
Tayron turned to the servant. “It is the lady – Damial’s sister – who is the mage controlling the king’s mind?”
“Y . . . yes.”
Back to Havelin, Tayron said, “what about her? Will she immediately notice that the king is free of her control?”
“If the counter-potion is taken all at once. But it is possible to administer it in two doses – the king won’t be fully in his own mind after the first doses, but he will be more himself and the mage will not notice the change unless she’s trying to control him at the time. We may be able to get the king to see sense after just one dose. There are risks in doing it this way and, of course, everything is lost if the drug is given to the king between doses.”
“Risks?” Terilon was finally brought into the conversation since no one else had expressed any concern.
“The mind is a delicate instrument. I assure you, though, that the risks are well worth the chance to get the king out of the grips of this . . . lady.”
The interrogators had what they needed for now, so Anni asked, “should I take down his story like we discussed?”
Tayron nodded, and Anni led the servant to a corner.
“I’ll send a letter to my father,” Terilon decided. “I assume the plan is on?”
“Yeah, we’ll do it.”
Havelin stood up. “And I’ll get to work on the antidote.”
The three knights were left in silence and, again seeing Yunas’ look, Tayron asked, “why the sour face?”
“You know.”
“Hard to play a trick by confronting your enemy outright, but I might have a job for you that you’ll like.” Tayron handed him a black and white photograph. “Anni got that for me – it was taken for one of the newspapers. That’s the False Adenor – probably the only picture of him. I want you to capture him in the next battle.”
Yunas’ eyes widened. “But will he be there?”
“I’m sure of it. Lord Quenari will have convinced him to be in it. Quenari will want to kill him to erase some evidence, and will use the battle as an excuse. We could use that evidence. You have to find the False Adenor and capture him before Quenari gets to him, and get this evidence back here before the battle ends. I want the king to hear it all before we hang Quenari. It’s a tough job.”
“I’ll do it,” Yunas responded instantly, brightening without transition in his fickle way.
Satisfied that Bathis was getting enough of a kick out of their machinations to stay on board, Tayron went to see how Anni was doing with the servant. To his surprise, both of them were laughing. He felt a pang of reflexive jealousy before asking, “what’s so funny?”
Anni brought herself back into composure. “Oh, we were just talking about a report I did on the horrid styles the courtiers wear because they think it’s traditional. The public likes to hear about details like that out of the court. I showed how none of the costumes are actually traditional, but are only what the court pretends is traditional. The average reader likes to feel smarter than those in charge. Anyway, Ralin here read it, and we started talking about all the absurd things the nobility does. I’m done taking down his story – there wasn’t much to it, really; you can give him your instructions.”
“Ralin?” Tayron said, knowing already, but wanting to express how impressed he was with the way Anni could get on personal terms with people.
“Well, the first question’s usually going to be ‘what’s your name?’ and he’s very willing to help us, by the way.”
“Thanks, Anni,” Tayron said with light mocking in his voice. “Ralin, you can go back to your quarters now and act normally – as if nothing happened here. If Lady Damial orders you to drug the king for the audience before the next battle, you will do so. But after that, don’t. Come to us for instructions instead. I think you know how conspiracies work, so don’t try anything dumb. Do you understand?”
Ralin nodded.
“If you do everything right, you should come out of this on the winning side with no harm done to you. Make a mistake, and we’ll fall back on our backup plan, and that does not require your services. You become a danger to that plan, and you will be dealt with. Expect to meet with us again after the king ends his next audience. You may go.”
Ralin left, considering himself lucky. His impression of Tayron was that the knight had a thorough command of the situation. Comparing this figure to the obnoxiously overconfident Lord Quenari, Ralin returned to his quarters satisfied with how things turned out, though his sleep would not be untroubled.