She steadied herself before carrying on. “Your mother's body was discovered the next day at the bottom of the Nal Tuk Chasm. It's possible she deliberately cast herself down into it out of shame. But whether her death was deliberate or accidental, I do know without doubt that Ralmar truly loved your mother and could never have harmed her. No matter what she had done, he would have forgiven her in time. I will never, ever believe that he killed her. And I hope that in your heart, you know that too.”
Still picturing the scene Gretchen had described, Martok backed into the nearest wall and slid down into a seated position. He felt tears running down his cheeks. “Did Sylas know about this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He cared for you. But he believed what he had been told. Of that much I am sure.”
The old woman knelt down slowly to take hold of Martok’s hands. “You were very lucky. That you were not of his seed did not matter to Ralmar. You were his son...that was enough. The rest is long past, and nothing you can do will change it. Now you must look to the future. Your duty lies in making the Dragonvein family whole again.”
A clear image of Ralmar entered his mind. There was no hate or anger. Only love. In fact, remembering back, Martok had only ever seen love on the man's face. Yes. Gretchen was right. This was his real father.
He wiped his eyes and rose to his feet. “Thank you, Gretchen…for everything.”
She gave him a fond embrace and kissed his cheek. “He would be proud of you.”
“Yes. I know. And I intend to make him even prouder.”
He set off toward his chambers. It was time. Time for the Dragonvein family to rebuild. Time for him to rise and take his place in the world. The destruction of the Bronstar family had given was a good beginning. But the end game was still far ahead.
Exactly how far did not matter. He would see it through to the end.
Martok skirted the edge of the ballroom. Just a few feet away, a swirling mass of extravagant gowns and colorful suits glided around in synchronized rhythm to a small quartet of musicians playing high above on a marble dais.
Ducking behind one of the tall pillars that surrounded the dance floor, he surveyed the scene, searching for his next conquest. There were so many choices. So many beauties. And they were all his for the taking. Well…most of them. The lack of fidelity among the mage houses was astounding. A fact of which he took full advantage.
It had been ten years since he'd sent the Bronstar name into oblivion. And in that time he had elevated the Dragonvein House to being the wealthiest by far in all of Lumnia. He had seen for himself the weaknesses that Kytain had spoken of so often. How all the other great houses jostled virtually blindly for position, only to find themselves right back where they started. There was no unity. No cohesion. Not among the mages, anyway.
Most humans, of course, were not mages. Most lived simple lives, unfettered by the shackles of the ruling class. They may not have magic to make life easier, but he had seen them come together to great effect during times of crisis in a way the mages never could. Even the kings and queens of Lumnia found ways of working together when the need arose.
Kytain had seen it as well - all too clearly - though he could never work out a way to change things. And now Martok found himself faced with the same dilemma. He greatly desired to make Lumnia a better place for all its people, but had so far been resisted at every turn. Not with direct defiance. No mage would ever dare to do that. However, the subtle means of some had been just as problematic.
His attempts to bridge the gap between elf and human had not gone well either. Though he was certain the elves would be willing to try if approached with the proper consideration and respect, most humans allowed their fears to govern their hearts. Making matters worse, these flames of mistrust were constantly being stoked by the dwarves, who countered his efforts with gifts of gold and jewels to any who would agree to oppose such unity. As a race, Martok had grown to dislike them intensely. If there was ever to be any chance of universal harmony, the dwarves would certainly have to change as well. Sadly, the solution to this problem was proving highly elusive.
But tonight was not for saving the world. Tonight was about conquest. But who would be the chosen one?
“On the prowl again, Martok?”
He turned his attention to the young man approaching from behind. Gracio Fierdin was the closest thing he had to a best friend. His family was not exactly wealthy or powerful, but it was well liked among the majority of mage houses. Gracio was the youngest of six children and the only son. Martok had met him during a meeting of the houses three years prior. He found him to be honest and direct – a rare quality that he valued highly.
He grinned back at Gracio. “With all these exquisite beauties under my roof, how could I not be? And you should be too.”
His friend chuckled. “I’m afraid I lack your charm. Besides, you know good and well that I’m engaged.”
“Ah, yes. And how is the lovely Lady Prustoni? I hear she is very pleased about landing you as a husband.”
“She is quite well, thank you. And in spite of what people think, we
are
in love.”
Martok gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Of course you are. Don’t let what those vipers say bother you. Just because her mother inherited Kytain’s fortune, that doesn’t mean a thing. Your family -”
“My family is too poor,” he said, cutting Martok short. “That’s what they say. They also whisper that if it wasn't for my friendship with the most powerful man in Lumnia, she would have never given me a second look.”
The hurt on his face was plain to see. “I hope you realize that
I
don’t think that,” Martok said, his tone sincere.
Gracio smiled. “Yes. I know it very well. But I hate when Helen hears these things. She pretends not to care. But I know it bothers her.”
Martok locked eyes with his friend. “You listen to me. Helen Prustoni is the best person to come out of that family since Kytain himself. And she loves you.” He grinned playfully and flicked his wrist, instantly lightening the mood. “Exactly w
hy
she loves you, is a complete mystery of course. But she does, nonetheless. So you are just going to have to ignore them. Understand?”
Before Gracio could respond, Martok turned back to the dance floor. The music had changed to a slow melody. One that was meant for a more intimate style of dance.
“You should think of settling down and finding a wife yourself,” Gracio suggested. Though speaking in a lighthearted tone, he was clearly being serious.
“I will…one day. I just haven’t found the right woman yet.”
“Well, I hope you do soon. You’re getting quite a reputation, you know.”
Martok shrugged. “What do I care? Most of these toads aren’t worthy to wed a pig farmer. The only value they have rests between their thighs.”
“Then perhaps you should wed a pig farmer’s daughter.”
This drew a laugh. “I might just do that. She’d be better than
this
lot, I wager.”
“They’re not all so bad.
Helen
is certainly different.”
“Yes. But the good ones are already taken.”
Gracio slapped him on the back. “I think you're wrong. And I hope I’m there to see it when you find her. I imagine the look on your face will be priceless.”
Instead of replying immediately, Martok grabbed his friend's arm and pointed to a woman standing on the far side of the ballroom. With grey hair neatly tucked beneath a silk scarf, she was dressed in an elegant violet gown stitched with silver and studded with diamonds. Though quite old, she still retained the vibrant look of youth. “Do you know her?” he asked.
“You mean Lady Thamus? Of course I do. Who doesn’t?”
“You should go speak to her.”
“Why?”
“Just tell her that Martok sent you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Gracio cocked his head, frowning. “I’m not going over there unless you tell me why.”
Martok led him to a quieter corner of the room. “How many women do you think I’ve bedded?” he asked.
“What kind of question is that? How should I know?”
“Just guess.”
“A hundred. Maybe more. You are quite the hound, after all.”
Martok erupted into boisterous laughter. “Yes. I am indeed. But you are wrong about the number. Very wrong.”
“More?”
“Less,” he replied. “In truth, I have only been intimate with seven women.”
Gracio eyed him incredulously. “That’s not possible.”
“Of course it is. And Lady Thamus is the reason why.”
“You were with Lady Thamus?” His tone was a mixture of surprise and disgust. “But she’s…”
“Old. Yes, I am well aware of her age. But that doesn’t matter. Not when you know what she knows.” He could see the continued look of disbelief on his friend’s face. “Just go and speak with her. You don’t need to leave the ballroom. Just talk to her and you’ll understand.”
“I’m
not
sleeping with that woman, Martok,” he stated emphatically. “Even if she wasn’t old enough to be my grandmother…I’m engaged.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, my friend. And if you return and tell me you weren’t happy you went, I’ll pay for your entire wedding out of my own coffers.”
Gracio blew an exasperated breath. “This is a complete waste of time. But fine. I’m sure Helen’s mother will be most pleased to have saved the gold.”
Martok watched closely as he crossed timidly over to where Lady Thamus was talking to a small group near the refreshments table. After a brief few words with him, she looked over and smiled at Martok, covering her mouth demurely as she laughed. She pointed to Gracio questioningly. Martok nodded in return.
Still laughing quietly to herself, Lady Thamus placed her hand over Gracio’s brow. He stiffened instantly, remaining this way for well more than a minute before finally relaxing and taking an awkward step back. Lady Thamus stepped in close to whisper something into his ear, then walked gracefully away.
When Gracio returned he was speechless. Finding a nearby chair, he plopped heavily down, shaking his head in utter disbelief.
“Aren’t you glad you listened to your old friend?” Martok asked.
After another few moments of stunned silence, Gracio regained his power of speech. “That was the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. How…it’s just…I can’t…”
“She was quite lovely. Am I right?”
“Breathtaking,” he agreed. “But how is it done?”
“Magic is a never ending mystery, and the mind is its equal. I was only twenty the first time she took me there. After she taught me the spell, I tried it for myself. By the way, was it the beach or the cabin in the mountains?”
“Neither. I found myself standing in a field of wild flowers. She was young again. By the spirits…the things she did to me…”
“I can teach you the spell if you like,” Martok offered.
After a brief thought, Gracio shook his head. “No. It’s not right. I just couldn’t…”
“Why? You did nothing wrong. It was all in your mind. Your body never left the room.”
“I don’t care. It still feels wrong.” He stood and straightened his back. “I’m sorry, Martok. I want no part of this.”
He wrapped an arm around Gracio’s shoulders. “Calm down. I wouldn't force it on you. And I’m sorry if you're upset. That wasn’t what I intended.”
His friend nodded. “I know. I'm sorry, but you need to understand how much I love Helen. Even if it’s just in my mind, I still feel as if I've betrayed her trust.”
“No need to apologize,” Martok told him. “I'm the one at fault. Come. Let us drink together and forget the whole ordeal.”
As they crossed the room together, he noticed a look of shame persisting on Gracio's face. “Now don’t be thinking you need to confess this to Helen,” he said. “What’s done is done. You'll only hurt her. If you feel any guilt, live with it. There's no point in causing her pain just to relieve your own conscience.”
Gracio sighed. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”
Martok was not about to mention that he and Helen had done this very same thing together many times. Given Gracio’s attitude toward the experience, it was better he never found out. Up until this minute, Martok had never thought of it as being any kind of betrayal. Now he could see that perhaps it was.
Gracio excused himself early after only one drink and retired to his room. Like most of Martok's guests, he was staying at the house overnight. In fact, many of them had traveled great distances to be there for this grand occasion. As for Martok however, he had still not yet identified a suitable companion for the evening. And as he was in his own home, he was determined that the number of women he had bedded would definitely increase by one before the morning arrived. But who?
It was well past midnight when he spotted a young woman in a striking red gown. Her honey blond hair and ivory complexion practically begged to be admired. Though slender, her womanly attributes were ample. Martok was immediately captivated.
Creeping up behind her, he whispered into her ear: “You look amazing. How ever did you arrive without my noticing?”
She stepped away from him with a brisk movement before turning. The annoyed expression on her face told him that this one would be quite a challenge.
“I have only just arrived, My Lord. And I would thank you not to sneak up behind me in that manner again.”
He bowed low. “Forgive me, My Lady. I meant no offence. I am -”
“I know full well who you are, Martok Dragonvein. How could I not?”
He flashed his best smile. “And yet I do not know
you
. Which, given how lovely you are, seems impossible. I thought I knew every beautiful mage in Lumnia. Now I see I was clearly mistaken. And happily so.”
She laughed mockingly. “I’m sure your charms would have any other woman here swooning. But I am not a prize to be won. Seek your sport elsewhere, Lord Dragonvein.”
She turned and started to walk away.
“May I at least know your name?” he called after her.
“I haven’t yet decided,” she replied over her shoulder. “Perhaps. If you mind your manners and stop behaving like a fiend.”
The few people close enough to overhear the exchange were wide eyed with shock. No one spoke to Martok this way. Even the few women who resisted his advances did so in a kind and gentle manner. This one, however, was behaving outrageously.
Not that Martok was offended. While watching her vanish into the crowd on the far side of the room, he suddenly realized that he was grinning from ear to ear. Now he was more determined than ever to know her name. As unlikely as it seemed, he was sure he had never seen this woman before. He had visited every mage house in Lumnia at one time or another, and was confident he would have remembered any meeting with her.
As the night wore on, he found that he had no interest at all in his usual sport. His eyes had a mind of their own, automatically wandering to wherever the fetching young woman happened to be at the time. He had thought to ask some of the guests who she was, but eventually decided he would hear it from her own lips or not at all.