Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (2 page)

King Haziel had a well-trimmed beard. Gray had long
ago begun to encroach on his dark hair, which was closer to white than black.
Aside from that however, he showed few signs of age. He had wide shoulders and
piercing brown eyes. The crown of Ashtar, a single golden band, rested on his
head. He wore deep purple robes, and had a pair of swords at his waist, one
long and one short, the throne having been built to accommodate the weapons. If
the stories were to be believed, though, his wife, Queen Istar was the deadlier
of the two. Jez fell to one knee and heard Osmund and Sileon do the same behind
him. They were on the ground for at least a minute before the king spoke.

“Rise.” Jez obeyed. “We are pleased to finally meet
you.”

“The honor is mine, Your Majesty. Thank you for
inviting me to your court.” His eyes flickered to the empty throne. “Is your
lady wife not present?”

“She and our son are visiting the Baron of Nakior at the
moment. This summons,” Haziel let the world hang for a second as he narrowed
his eyes and made it clear that the ‘invitation’ had been a command, “was long
overdue. Though we cannot condone the actions that led to his death, we offer
our condolences for the loss of your adopted father, our esteemed cousin.”

“Cousin?” Jez asked, but as soon as the word had left
his lips, he wished he could call it back. The higher nobility all referred to
themselves as cousins. He felt his face redden. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. I’m
sorry. I didn’t spend a lot of time with Dusan, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a
chance to learn more from him.”

The king raised an eyebrow and the guards shifted
their weight. One of them brought a hand to the hilt of his sword. Too late Jez
realized what he had said. He opened his mouth to explain, but the king’s sharp
voice cut him off.

“Be glad you did not. I’m told his lair contained
workings used to summon the greatest of evils. Man was never meant to meddle
with those forces. I would not like to learn that you have an interest in such
things.”

Jez’s head bobbed. “Yes, Your Majesty. I mean no, I
don’t. I only meant that I’m sorry he didn’t teach me the proper manners of the
court.”

The king snorted. “Then you know nothing of what he
was trying to do?”

Actually, Jez knew a great deal. Dusan had freed the
demon lord Marrowit, and only by accessing the power hidden deep inside himself
was Jez able to fight the creature and eventually destroy him. In the end,
Balud, the chancellor of the Carceri Academy had decided to suppress knowledge
of the incident, even from the king. Haziel may rule Ashtar, but matters of
magic and demons were the province of the masters of the Academy.

“No, Your Majesty. I was only his ward for a few
months and his son for just over a week before he died. The masters say he had
to have been preparing for years.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told. There are many who have asked
me to relieve you of your title. They think he intended to take you on as an
apprentice.”

Behind him, Sileon took in a sharp breath. Jez nodded
once. The title didn’t really mean much to him, but without it, he doubted he’d
be able to afford to attend the Academy. Still, he couldn’t really offer an
argument. It wasn’t like he was qualified to hold the position. The king raised
a hand.

“As despicable as what Dusan did was, it’s not illegal
to summon such creatures. No doubt he intended some treachery once he
succeeded, but I will not punish you for what he only intended to do, not when
I myself approved your adoption. I’ve been told you have great potential as a
mage, and I would not want to lose you as an ally.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You are most kind, and I am
your faithful servant.”

The king nodded. “You will join us tonight for dinner.
Lord Varin has also arrived recently, and I would have you acquainted with
him.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. It would be my pleasure.”

Haziel’s eyes flickered over Jez’s shoulder. “After
that, we will talk further. I believe you would benefit if I were to send an
advisor with you when you return to Korand.” Jez nodded and the king waved at
him. “You may go.”

Jez bowed deeply and turned. Sileon’s face was red and
he was clenching his teeth, but he didn’t say anything as Jez walked past him.
He was almost at the door when the king’s voice stopped him.

“Baron Jezreel.”

Jez looked over his shoulder. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“It’s not necessary to use my title in every
sentence.”

Jez nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The corners of the king’s mouth tightened and Jez felt
blood rush to his face. He bowed again and rushed out, Osmund and Sileon on his
heels.

As soon as the door to Jez’s sitting
room closed, Sileon cried out. The act was so uncharacteristic of the normally
calm man that both Jez and Osmund stared at him.

“Insult after insult,” Sileon said. “I don’t know how
you can stand it, my lord.”

“How did he insult me?” Jez asked as he walked across
the room and plopped down in one of the half dozen cushioned chairs. “He
actually seemed nice at the end. He invited us to dinner after all.”

“He invited us to dinner with Lord Varin.” Sileon
practically spat the name. “He’s one of the lowest ranked nobles in the
kingdom. To make matters worse, the king didn’t even claim you as an honored
guest. He’s putting you on the same level as Varin.”

“Varin,” Osmund spoke slowly, as if tasting the name.
“Why does that name sound so familiar?”

Sileon shook his head. “Varin is a minor lordling
from...” he hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know the barony.”

“You don’t think we should refuse to go to dinner, do you?”

Sileon paled a little and shook his head so hard it
could almost be called violent. “Oh no. That would be an insult to the king.
Perhaps you could manage that if you had Dusan’s influence, but your position
in the court is too precarious to risk insulting anyone.”

Jez rolled his eyes. “I thought I was one of the
highest nobles in the kingdom.”

Sileon let out a long breath. “There is rank, and
there is influence. The lowliest knight can affect change if he has the right
alliances.”

“Rank can help, but it’s not enough by itself.” Jez
completed the thought almost by rote. “I know. You’ve said that before.”

“But you don’t
learn
.” Jez looked up at him,
and Sileon bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lord. I meant no offence.”

Jez waved off the apology. “He didn’t actually tell us
when dinner was, did he?”

Sileon shook his head. “I can find out if you wish,
though it may be seen as a sign of weakness to display our ignorance. Still,
the alternative is to stay here and wait to be summoned. It may have been
intended as another insult. We should be careful in how we proceed.”

Jez threw up his arms in frustration. “Oh go ahead and
ask. I’m getting so tired of this. We’ve only been in Rumar a few hours, and I
already have a headache. I just want to get this over with.”

Sileon’s eyes widened. “But sir, if you want to
increase your influence, court is the best place—”

“Go Sileon.”

The advisor’s face went red, but he bowed his head and
scurried out. Jez tried to glare as he left, but Sileon looked so ridiculous
trying to maintain his dignity that it was impossible. He disappeared through
the door. Osmund met Jez’s gaze, and they both laughed. It was several seconds
before they calmed down enough to speak.

“All this talking about politics almost makes me long
for the times we were fighting an evil mage bent on releasing a nightmare
demon.”

Jez grinned. “Yeah, if only something like that would
happen here. It would certainly make things more interesting.”

Dinner, as it turned
out, was still two hours away, but Sileon insisted they spend that time getting
ready. He summoned an army of servants, seemingly from nowhere. When Jez asked
about it, the stout man simply said that being a baron had its advantages. Jez
took that to mean he was paying them a great deal of money.

The
servants helped him out of his clothes and into new ones, something he’d never
really gotten used to. They ignored his assertions that the clothes he’d worn
before the king were good enough. They even tried to comb his hair, which he’d
allowed to grow a little longer in recent weeks. He managed to stop them from
doing that, however, and he was glad for that small mercy. Every time Jez tried
to speak with Osmund, Sileon cleared his throat, wordlessly instructing him to
say nothing in front of the servants, as if Jez had any secrets to keep.

Osmund
stood by the door. Every once in a while, he would grumble something to one of
the servants, and they would take a step back, stammering and pale faced.
Sileon scowled, but Jez could tell his friend’s actions more out of boredom
than any perceived threat to Jez.

Finally,
Sileon settled on a bright blue doublet with gold embroidery, leaving Jez to
wonder who would think to weave gold into clothes. Like his previous outfit, it
had lace at its neck, and Jez struggled to avoid scratching. Sileon ushered the
servants out of the room. Getting dressed had taken almost the full two hours,
and Sileon spent the next several minutes drilling Jez on the finer points of
etiquette that might come up in a formal dinner. Eventually, a servant in the
purple livery of the king came to lead them to the dining hall.

The
king was seated at the head of a table made of lacquered wood. The seat to his
right was occupied by a tall pale skinned man with yellow hair. A whispered
word from Sileon told Jez it was Lord Varin. Many of the other chairs were
occupied by men and women wearing the same dark green as their lord. It seemed
Varin had brought a dozen people with him. Three of Varin’s guards stood
against one wall, next to those of the king. Jez motioned for Osmund to join
them. Villia and her apprentice were also present, and her eyes kept wandering
from Jez to Osmund. Her gaze made the hairs on the back of Jez’s neck stand on
end.

Only
two seats sat empty, one at the king’s left, and one next to Varin, though as
soon as Jez glanced at it, Varin glared at him. That seat must be reserved for
someone else in Varin’s party. This time, Jez didn’t have to be told that he’d
been insulted. He bowed deeply to the king and inclined his head to Varin.
Propriety demanded that Varin, ranked much lower than Jez, rise to greet him,
but instead, the lord just returned the gesture. Since there was nowhere for
Sileon to sit, Jez waved toward the door. For a second, it looked like Sileon
would object, but a glare from Jez sent him away. Jez would just have to make
it through this dinner unaided.

As
soon as Jez sat down, a girl in a flowing green dress stepped into the room
followed by a pair of guards. One was a bearded man with a crooked nose and the
other was a raven haired woman with ice blue eyes. The noble they were guarding
was a tall girl with pale skin and golden hair. Anger flashed in her eyes as
she met Jez’s gaze, and his blood went cold. He realized why Osmund had thought
he’d heard of Lord Varin. He was the father of Lina, a former student of the
Academy who had almost gotten Osmund kicked out.

Jez
stared at her face, astonished that the supposedly unhealable scar that had
once marred her cheek was completely gone. Quite deliberately, she turned away
and eyed the guards lined up on the wall. When she saw Osmund, a gasp escaped
her throat. Her face wavered and a red line appeared on her face, running from
just beneath her right eye to the bottom of her chin. It had been hidden by an
illusion. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Osmund turned away and mumbled
something. Instantly, Lord Varin was at Lina’s side asking what was the matter.
The king stared. Finally, she lifted her hand and pointed at Osmund.

“It
was him. He did this to me.”

Lord
Varin’s face twisted in rage, and he stormed up to Osmund. He looked like a
child next to the large boy. “Is this true?”

For a
moment, Jez thought his friend would deny it, but Osmund closed his eyes and
nodded. His voice was so quiet Jez barely heard it. “I’m sorry.”

Varin
turned to Haziel, his face red with fury. “I demand you arrest this monster.”

Jez
shot to his feet, but a glare from the king kept him silent. Haziel looked from
Osmund to Jez. Finally, addressed Jez.

“He
is a commoner?”

“Well
yes, but—”

“Guards!
Take the baron’s body servant and throw him in the dungeon until we can decide
how he is to be punished for assaulting a noble.”

Jez stared at Osmund through the iron
bars in the dungeon under Rumar Keep. The room was almost ridiculously small
for his large form, and even sitting on the stone slab carved from the wall,
the cell looked tiny. Torches lined the hall though they were spaced so far
apart they barely provided any illumination at all. A musty smell hung in the
air, and from somewhere in the darkness, Jez heard a scurrying sound
accompanied by the squeaking of rats.

“Osmund, why does this always happen to you?” Osmund’s
eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond. Jez eyed the bars. “Can’t you break out
of here?”

Osmund shrugged. “It’s warded, just like the cells
under the Academy. I think I could still change.” He ran his fingers along the
bars. “Ziary’s sword would cut right through these. Somehow, I don’t think that
would be the best thing.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” a voice said from behind.

Jez spun. For a moment, a ball of water appeared
around his closed fist shedding, a soft blue light. The boy, a few years older
than Jez himself took a step back, his eyes wide. It took Jez a second to
recognize him as Villia’s apprentice. He searched his mind for the name, but it
didn’t come. He lowered his hand and the water dripped to the floor. The boy
took a step forward, his eyes locked on Jez’s hand.