In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) (22 page)

“Not possible,” Wodtke snapped. “Gyato would know if one of his people were a mage, and he’d have told me.”

“But…”

“You were still adjusting to the large numbers of people around you when you first felt it, right?” Maelgyn asked, magically nudging her. Arguing with the doctor would do neither of them any good.

“Well,” she hesitated. “Perhaps. I
still
haven’t really adjusted to being around that many people.”

“It was probably just the confusion, then. At any rate, you still need your magic powder. I take it you don’t have the time to help us find El’Rasi’s shop, do you, Dr. Wodtke?”

“Nor the desire,” the doctor admitted. “Sorry. But, if you’re willing to take it pre-processed like I am, you could always try one of the local blacksmiths. There’s one, Tur’Ne, not two minutes walk away from my office. We could go there right now; he’ll be open quite late.”

“A blacksmith?” Euleilla repeated.

“Sure. Iron filings are just a normal byproduct of his line of work. It won’t have the rust-proofing you’re probably used to, but it’s cheap and it should help until you’re somewhere you can get the commercial stuff,” Wodtke noted.

“I actually need white magic powder, not black,” Euleilla pointed out. “A less reactive magical powder allows me to make more sensitive judgments.

“Not a problem,” Wodtke replied. “He calls himself a blacksmith, but he actually works in many different metals. I’ve had him inlay a piece of furniture with the same metal that is used in many types of white magic powder. He should have something we could use.”

Maelgyn shrugged. “Sounds ideal, actually. Shall we try it out?”

He offered his arm to Euleilla, and magically encouraged her to take it. When she realized what he was doing, she acquiesced and nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

“Then let’s hurry,” he replied. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“And a lot to say, still,” she added, curling an arm around his. “Quite a lot, indeed.”

Chapter 14

This is turning into a long day,
Maelgyn thought as he returned to the inn a few hours later.

It was at the blacksmith’s shop that the secret was let out. It was Maelgyn’s fault, and he knew it, but he couldn’t quite blame himself for having worn his armor when he left the hotel. Maybe he could for failing to cover it properly, however. He should have known that a blacksmith would recognize the armor for what it was, even disguised.

“Is that dragonhide?” Tur’Ne asked, staring in awe at the armor. “Real dragonhide?”

“Well—” Maelgyn started to say. He’d only taken off his cloak because it was so hot in the blacksmith’s shop – he hadn’t considered that the Dwarf would be so interested in what was underneath. He wasn’t sure why Euleilla insisted on spending the time in that stifling building to reform the metal filings into smooth balls. Well, to tell the truth, he did: A person could cut themselves badly on non-commercial magic powder, if they didn’t prep it first like she was doing, but at that point he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be honest with himself.

“Never mind,” Tur’Ne answered for himself. “I can see it for myself it is. That’s a well-made set! I don’t think I’ve ever seen its like.”

“It’s a... family heirloom,” Maelgyn noted hesitantly, trying not to give away too much information.

“Yeah, it looks older than you,” the Dwarf nodded. “By several hundred years. Red dragon, though. That’s different. Most dragonhide I’ve heard about in this region comes from the black dragons killed in the Fifth Battle of Lake Poros. Nasty piece of work, when all four kingdoms of Poros came flying in with two or three trained dragons each... and all the dragons died. Their bodies were salvaged and turned into armor for the royal guard of East Poros.”

“No, it’s not Porosian in origin,” Maelgyn explained.

“I can see that,” Tur’Ne agreed. “It looks better than anything Poros could produce. Red makes stronger armor than Black, but at the cost of weight and comfort. As well made as this is I doubt you’ve lost much comfort, and that you don’t even feel the weight. Best dragonhide – if you can ever find it – is Golden. As flexible and comfortable as soft leather, but if you take a hard whack at it your weapon is more likely to break than its wearer is likely to bruise. No-one hunts Gold Dragons, though, and even when a Golden Dragon carcass is found it’s difficult to make proper armor out of it. Whoever made this armor, though, refined it well. That interwoven construction would make it almost as strong as Golden dragonhide. Offhand, I’d say it looks Sviedan.” He swallowed, realizing just who he was dealing with. “You’re one of the Sword Princes, aren’t you?”

“A Sword Prince? Here?” a voice boomed from the store entrance. “Who are you, and what are you doing in Mar’Tok?”

Maelgyn turned to the newcomer, another Dwarf dressed in gaudy robes reeking of decadence. Clearly, this was an important figure in Dwarven society... and probably not one of El’Athras’ allies, given the angry scowl on his face.

“Just passing through,” he said truthfully.

“Nonsense!” the Dwarf barked. “Now, I am Merchant Prince El’Pless from the Grand Council of Mar’Tok. Any official state visits by a Sword of Svieda should have been reported to me. Since you weren’t, it’s fairly obvious you’re a spy! Now, unless you want to be arrested and hung, you’d better talk, you Human bastard!”

Dr. Wodtke, who had been in the back room with Euleilla helping to prepare the magic powder, came out to investigate the ruckus. Seeing the speaker, she sighed. “Hello, Helpless.”

The aristocratic Dwarf stiffened. “I am El’Pless, or Pless the Elder if you
must
call me by something in your tongue. I’m two hundred and eleven years old, and the second wealthiest Dwarf in the world. You would do well to show me some respect.”

Wodtke snorted. “Maybe I will, but only when you show
me
you deserve it.”

El’Pless’ eyes narrowed. “You may be under the protection of the High Merchant Prince, but that goodwill only stretches so far. Do not test my patience!”

“Sorry, Helpless, but I’m afraid it stretches farther than you can imagine,” Wodtke snorted. “As far as the Sword you were about to arrest as a spy is concerned, he has been given safe passage to his home province of Sopan. While they did meet to discuss some business, this isn’t an official state visit. That is why you weren’t informed.”

“And just how do you know that, Human?” El’Pless spat. “Since when are you privy to the politics of the court?”

“Well, I think I’d know my own lover’s business,” Wodtke laughed. The room fell silent.

That’s why she has such free access to El’Athras’ house,
Maelgyn thought,
and why she knew her way around the caves so well.

“Lover?” Maelgyn repeated slowly.

“Not another one,” Wodtke groaned. “I figured you would have noticed by now, Maelgyn. According to Euly, you’re a smart enough guy.”

Maelgyn shook his head in disbelief. Yes, he had noticed a degree of “familiarity,” for lack of a better word, between her and El’Athras, but... “I never knew that was even possible. Have a Human and a Dwarf ever produced any offspring?”

“No,” she sighed. “Why do you think I haven’t married him, yet? You can’t marry someone you can’t have kids with. That’s the law.”

“Enough about your abomination with Athras!” El’Pless snarled. “Though believe me, the council will hear of it. The important issue is: Just what is this Sviedan doing here?”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Wodtke snorted. “Helpless, you really do justice to your nickname, you know that? My lover just did what he’s been trying to convince you idiots in the council was the sensible thing to do for years. In the process, he demoted you...
Baron
Helpless.”

“Baron? What...” El’Pless’ voice trailed off, as he slowly glanced at Maelgyn standing around shell-shocked. “No. Tell me that old fool didn’t—”

“Cede Mar’Tok to Svieda? Yep. And you know he can do it, too. A Sviedan Royal is present, my Athy has been High Merchant Prince for more than a year, and a third national ruler – Emperor Gyato of Caseificio – signed as one of the principle witnesses. Athy signed the treaty, was promptly dubbed Count El’Athras, High Merchant Lord of the Autonomous County of Mar’Tok in Svieda, and that was it – the deal was done. And just so you don’t go worrying your beard bald, Mar’Tok was not the only nation to sign the treaty. Emperor Gyato was made Count of the Autonomous County of Caseificio, so he’s no longer royalty either. It’s all legal. We followed every procedure to the letter, compliant for all of Sviedan, Nekoji, and Dwarven legal systems. And, by Sviedan law, your former title has been converted to their closest equivalent – Merchant Lord Helpless, Baron of the Pathways Mining Company. And that ‘Sviedan’ you’re sneering at is now your royal liege. You might just want to apologize for calling him a ‘Human bastard.’”

El’Pless backed away in horror, mouth agape but moving as if he was trying to talk but couldn’t quite form the words. Finally, he collected himself, and glared at the two Humans. “The Council will hear about this, you can rest assured. It may be too late to stop this horrible travesty Athras is leading us on, but we can still punish him for it... and you can tell your ‘lover’ that we’ll be expecting him tomorrow morning in the council hall!”

With that, El’Pless stormed out of the building. Euleilla chose that moment to swoop in silently, attaching herself to Maelgyn’s side.

“I heard,” she said simply. Turning to Wodtke, she asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m not worried. He can’t do anything, not really.” Wodtke shrugged. “The worst thing they can do is strip Athy of his clan leadership, and since he is the ruling Count of Mar’Tok regardless of clan that won’t matter much. He may lose the ‘Merchant’ from his title, I suppose, but that’s a small price to pay.”

“Good,” Euleilla nodded emphatically.

Maelgyn glared at his wife playfully. “You knew about her and El’Athras, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Euleilla said, smiling enigmatically.

He laughed. “Ah, well. Better I find out here and now than in some other, even more embarrassing way. But the secret of my presence is out, it seems.” He turned to the doctor. “And yours is, too. Is that going to cause any problems?”

Wodtke shrugged. “Why should it? I can’t marry him, and he is allowed to choose his lovers at will. And he
will
marry someone – just not me. I can never be anything more than his concubine, but that’s all right. Dwarves permit that kind of thing among their royalty and nobility. They know that the person they love isn’t always the one who can give them a healthy child, and since they are required to produce heirs...”

Tur’Ne coughed slightly. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but that won’t matter. The concubine laws may permit you to be his lover, even if he were to marry, but you won’t be a popular person here even so. Your average Dwarf isn’t exactly happy to hear that their fellow Dwarf might care for a Human more than one of his own kind.”

“Yes, but Athy isn’t exactly the most popular Dwarf alive at the moment, anyway,” she said. “Yet you Dwarves are loyal to a fault. He’ll survive this politically intact, you’ll forgive him, and life will go on.”

“Forgive me again, my lady,” Tur’Ne said humbly. “But while we Dwarves will forgive him, not all Dwarves will forgive you. In fact, they’ll probably try to kill you. You might want to look into asking your lover for some protection.”

“And you, Tur’Ne?” Maelgyn intervened. “How do you feel about her? You say the average Dwarf won’t like this news... What about you?”

Tur’Ne smiled. “Well, my lady Wodtke saved my wife’s life when the plague hit, and often treats me after I burn myself on the job. I figure if she does that for me, the least I can do is wish her happiness in her affairs.”

“Well, then,” Maelgyn turned serious. “Thanks for your warning. I had hoped anonymity would be some protection for us until certain announcements were prepared, but it looks as if that plan has fallen by the wayside. I hadn’t considered that some of us were already well-known in these parts. So, doctor, it looks as if you’re going to need some protection for a while. Maybe you should head over to El’Athras’ mansion, where I’m pretty sure he can guard you until things blow over.”

Wodtke shook her head. “I need to get back to my office. I’ve got two people who need treatment coming in soon, and I have to be there.”

“Then we’ll have to protect you until you
can
go to safety,” Euleilla suggested in a tone that brooked no argument. “Excuse me, Tur’Ne, but could you please head over to the El’Athras’ estate and let him know that we’ll need some armed guards?”

Tur’Ne hesitated, but nodded. “Since it’s for a good cause, yeah, I suppose I can. I’ll have to close up my shop for a bit. I might have problems getting
into
the mansion, though – Those guards don’t let just anybody in.”

“Here,” Wodtke said, tossing him a small necklace she had been wearing. “Show the guard this, and he’ll let you in.”

“Thank you again, Tur’Ne,” Euleilla said to him as well, casually tossing him several coins... which was actually easier for her than handing them to him would have been, Maelgyn realized. He was beginning to see where some of her quirky personality came from. Some of it, at least, was to play off the effects of her blindness. “Payment for the metal filings, plus a little extra for your troubles.”