Gracio’s eyes darted from Martok to Miriam and then back again. “I think you might want us to speak alone first,” he suggested.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Miriam insisted sharply.
“It’s all right,” Martok assured him. “Just tell us what happened.”
Gracio drained his glass and sat it on the table before beginning. “As you instructed, I contacted the man in Golan and delivered the message. After that he directed me to the inn where I was to wait until he sent word. It was six weeks before I heard from him again. And what he told me…well, you won’t like it. Either of you.”
Miriam turned to Martok accusingly. “You said you had send people to mete out justice. Not conduct an investigation.”
“I had to know the truth. And the story you told me made no sense.”
This was enough to have her springing up from her chair. “You dare accuse me of lying?”
“No, of course not. I only thought that perhaps you had been misled. I never for one instant believed you were deceiving me purposefully.”
His words did nothing to cool Miriam’s anger. Her face was twisted into a hate-filled grimace. “You bastard. You think I am some dullard? That I am so easily manipulated? You can go to the depths. Both of you.”
Martok stood to face her, holding out his palms. “Please. That was not what I meant. I merely wished to establish the truth. You were so grief stricken, I thought that whoever was really behind this could have used your distress to mislead you.”
“My Lady,” Gracio jumped in. “It is true. You have been misled, exactly as Martok has suggested. I carry the proof with me.”
“What proof?”
“If you will please just calm yourself, I will get to that in a minute.”
After a long, tense moment, her curiosity won over. Miriam sat back down.
“Your husband was not killed by elves,” Gracio continued.
“But there was a witness,” she instantly countered. “He saw what they did.”
“The witness was lying. He was paid to blame the elves for the attack on your husband's party.”
“That is not possible,” she said, shaking her head several times in stubborn denial. “I’ve known Bremin since I was a little girl. He would not lie to me.”
“Bremin is a mage from your mother’s house, am I right?”
“Yes. She sent him to me last year. He’s been a great help. I trust him with my life.”
“I am loathe to tell you this,” Gracio said, “but he was not sent to aid you. His mission was to bring you home.” He retrieved a letter from his pocket. “This is in your mother’s hand.”
Miriam reached over and snatched it from him. After reading what was written, she sniffed contemptuously and tossed it back. “This is obviously forged. It proves nothing.”
“What does it say?” asked Martok.
His friend sighed. “It says that once Prince Traxis is dead, Bremin should convince Miriam to return home. It also says that he should convince her to leave her son behind.”
She shook her head. “This is too ridiculous for words. You seriously expect me to believe that my mother would go to the extreme of arranging my husband's death just to have me home again.”
“No, not entirely.” Gracio conceded. “However, your return from Soria
was
an essential part of a much grander scheme.” He produced another letter. “This explains the plot in further detail.” Wary of last time, he quickly handed it to Martok before Miriam could grab a hold.
Martok examined the document for several minutes, reading then rereading it before handing it over to Miriam.
“And you are sure of this?” he asked Gracio.
He nodded. “Absolutely. Verial Goldsong, along with several other of the mage houses, conspired with the dwarves to trick you into turning on the elves. She knew how much her daughter loved Traxis, and that his death would be sure to spur her into seeking revenge. It was then just a small matter of having Bremin suggest to Miriam that she should come to you for help. Given your feelings for her daughter, Lady Goldsong was quite sure you would do as she asked.”
Miriam threw the letter to the floor, fury burning in her eyes. “It’s a forgery, I tell you. Someone is trying to implicate my mother. I will not stand for this.”
Gracio picked it up, offering it once again to Miriam. “She used a Lumin Seal.”
Miriam stared down at the paper for a full minute. “You’re wrong. She wouldn’t do this.”
“See for yourself,” he challenged. “Not even Martok could forge such a seal.”
With trembling hands, she waved them over the letter. For a moment nothing happened. Then, around the edges of the parchment, a dim blue light gradually appeared. A few seconds later a name formed in the center – Verial Goldsong. Miriam stared at it in horror.
“I’m sorry,” said Martok. He reached out to touch her hand, but she jerked sharply away. He turned back to Gracio. “Do you know the identities of her accomplices?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But the plot goes deeper still. They even attempted to hire the Urazi to assassinate you once you had played your part in attacking the elves. Strangely, given their normal code of business, the Urazi refused. The member I spoke to about this would not tell me why, though he did confirm that every part of the conspiracy was done in collusion with the dwarves.”
By now Miriam was weeping openly. “I don’t understand any of this. Why? Why would she kill my husband - the father of her grandson? What did he do to deserve such a fate?”
Martok was torn. He knew what must be done, yet was reluctant to cause Miriam further pain. “You should go lay down,” he told her. “There's nothing more to be done about this for now. We’ll talk about it again tomorrow.”
“No!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. “I know what you are planning to do, Martok. And I won’t let you. No matter what she has done, she is still my mother.”
He rose and placed both his hands on her shoulders. This time she did not resist the contact. “I promise, Miriam, I will do nothing for now. You have my word. We will talk about it once you’ve had time to recover.”
With absolute tenderness, he walked her to the door and instructed a servant waiting just outside to escort her to her room.
“Please, Martok,” she begged. “Spare her. I’ll do anything. Just spare my mother.”
He smiled. “Nothing will happen to her; you have my word. Now please get some rest. You will feel better tomorrow.”
He waited until she was rounding the corner of the hallway before returning to his seat.
“Are you really going to let Verial Goldsong live?” asked Gracio.
Martok rubbed at his temples. “How can I? If I do, it will encourage my enemies to strike.”
“But you promised Miriam –”
“I know what I promised,” he snapped. “But what else could I do? Was I supposed to tell her the truth? That in spite of all her pain, she’s going to lose her mother as well? Of course Lady Goldsong must die. And it must be a terrible death…carried out publically. It must send a clear message to my enemies. But for now, there is no need to smash an already broken heart.”
“So you are willing to give up any chance of winning her because of this? I know you still love her.”
Martok sighed. “Right now she’s confused. However, the hard truth is that her husband was killed on Verial's orders. Once she’s had time to fully absorb that fact, she’ll come around. I'm sure of it.”
Gracio furled his brow. “I think you’re wrong. Regardless of what her mother has done, Miriam will never agree to her death. Think about it. Could you kill your own parent?”
Martok’s aspect darkened. “I already did.”
* * * * *
Though Martok was loathe to admit it, Gracio's warning had struck deep. His friend was most likely right; Miriam was unlikely to agree to her mother's death, no matter what foul crime the woman had committed against her.
Once left alone, he wandered the halls of Dragonvein Manor for several hours, his mind desperately searching for a course other than the one he knew he must inevitably take. Lady Goldsong, along with all those who had conspired against him, had to die. But this would destroy any chance he had of a life with Miriam. In all the time he'd spent trying to find a suitable wife and partner, none had come even close to making him feel as she did.
Most of the mage women he had known were avid social climbers interested only in status and power. Their hearts changed direction as easily as the wind. And though it truly revolted him that Miriam had chosen a man with no magical talent whatsoever, even that served to exemplify her strength of character and will.
Gracio had often told him that he wanted her simply because she was unattainable. He did not believe this. Not entirely, at any rate. He prized strength and loyalty above all else and had always sought to surrounded himself with people blessed with these qualities. This was why he had so much admiration for the elves. It was also why he was still alone.
To the world at large he was brash, arrogant, and ruthless. But those who knew him best understood it was his contempt for weakness that made him behave this way. The great mage houses had deteriorated, with only a handful ever earning his respect. The House Goldsong had been one of these…until now.
This was not the first time a mage family had sought to lay him low. Since the fall of House Bronstar he'd been forced to kill those who'd attempted to do him harm on three more occasions. So great had been his rage on the final time, for a while he felt sure that no one would ever dare to try again. But bigotry and ignorance always seemed to overcome their fear eventually. It was frustrating to the extreme. Could they not see the benefit of ending a conflict that had spanned more ages than could easily be counted?
As for the dwarves, he could almost understand their motives. They lived virtually isolated lives, and any kind of change, however small, came slowly to their closed minds. Even so, their involvement in this latest atrocity could not be ignored.
He passed by Miriam’s room and stood outside the door for a short time. He was tempted to see that she was resting, but finally thought better of it. Soon his name would be a curse on her lips. Because of his actions, he would become someone she could never forgive.
In that very moment, Martok realized that his choice had been irrevocably made. He would unify the world. Only he possessed the power and the wisdom to do so. Under his banner, Lumnia would finally know peace. And though he would be hated by many at the beginning, in the end his name would surely be spoken with reverence and love.
“To build a new world, one must first tear down the old,” he said quietly.
Now moving with purposeful steps, he set off again until reaching his bed chamber. Once settled into bed, his mind began racing with thoughts of how the days ahead would impact on his life. Though he despised weakness, doubts over his ability to achieve his ambition could not help but form. He was attempting something way beyond the means of any other man. Was he really strong enough? Or might he simply end up like Kytain. This prospect prompted yet another consideration. Should he die, the Dragonvein name would die with him.
The door to his room creaked open. In an instant, he was prepared to strike at anyone who might be there. Though his wards protected him from harmful magic, a dagger was still a dagger. But the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway told him that this was no assassin.
He sat up, knowing at once who it was. “Miriam. Is everything all right?”
She closed the door behind her. “No. My husband is dead: murdered by my mother. And I know that regardless of what you tell me, you intend to kill her. How could you not?”
Martok wanted to deny it, but said nothing. His heart was pounding and his eyes were transfixed on her as she made her way slowly toward him.
“After you do this, I will be alone,” Miriam continued. “And I shall remain so for the rest of my life. I know this now. And though I will hate myself tomorrow, I would have one night of warmth – even if it is with the man who will kill my mother.”
“I…I will spare her.”
“You cannot. And even if you did, one of your allies would end her life in your stead. I would beg only that you end it painlessly. Do not make her suffer.”
A dim light shining in through the window cast a blue aura around her. The sheer silk nightgown hung lightly on her slender shoulders, caressing her curves with each step she took. Martok was speechless. Such strength. She had accepted what must happen, yet not a hint of the anguish she was surely feeling had seeped into her voice.
“Perhaps I can find a way,” he offered. “If she were to denounce her confederates –”
“Then
they
would kill her,” she responded quickly. “No. The plot has failed and she has sealed her fate. In the morning I will return home. Know full well that I will hate you once she is dead. But I do not hate you now. Now...I need you.”
Martok gazed upon her, conflicted – and a touch confused. If she were any other woman, he would immediately suspect something sinister. But with Miriam, everything was different. Perhaps his feelings were clouding his judgment. If they were, he didn’t care. He had desired her ever since that night in the ballroom. And if this was all there ever was to be for them, then he would not waste the gift that the fates had provided.