Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (48 page)

Rezkin was in conversation with Malcius when Frisha nudged
his arm. “Your new lady friend is here,” she said through gritted teeth.

The young warrior smiled upon seeing the ambitious thief.
“Frisha, that is not a
friend.
That is a desperate woman seeking to make
an alliance.”

Frisha frowned. “What kind of alliance?”

Somehow, Rezkin did not think telling Frisha that the woman
was a fraud and thief seeking to keep her life by working her way into the good
graces of the notorious criminal overlord, The Raven, would go over too well
with his Girl Friend. Instead he said, “Her husband is dead. She seeks to keep
the House profitable.”

“And for some reason she needs
you
to do that?”
Frisha asked with disdain. Rezkin was saved from answering when Hilith
approached the table.

The young warrior stood and greeted the lady appropriately.
“Lady Gadderand, welcome. I see you made it to Skutton. I hope you had a
pleasant trip.

In fact, Hilith had
not
had a pleasant trip. The voyage
on the sea was so much worse than the one down the river, and that one had been
terrible. She also had the problem of the meager funds The Raven had allotted
her for travel. Traveling as a proper lady was impossible, so she had to
procure funds in
other
ways.

Hilith smiled agreeably and replied, “Yes, Lord Rezkin. It
was my first voyage on the sea, and I found it to be quite lovely.”

“Oh? A number of my companions discovered that the Souelian
did not sit well with their stomachs. I am glad to hear that you did not suffer
their misfortune,” Rezkin replied. “It is remarkable that you were able to find
us in this bustling city, though. Please tell me you did not strain yourself in
the effort.

“No, no, nothing so dramatic. It was happenstance, really. I
thought a friend of mine was staying here, but it seems I was mistaken. The
Maker must favor me to have landed me in your illustrious presence once again,
Lord Rezkin,” the woman remarked.

In actuality, ever since Hilith stepped off that vile vessel
and set foot on the blessed ground, she had been searching for Lord Rezkin and
his companions. This was only one of nearly a dozen such establishments she had
visited. The woman had begun to worry that the man had been fostered on a
private estate, seeing as how he was so successful.

“I am glad to hear it,” the handsome lord replied.

“Thank you. It is surely a sign that our business together
is favored, as well,” the woman pressed.

 “Perhaps…” Rezkin started to say when he was
interrupted by the arrival of a young messenger. The young man could not have
been more than fourteen years of age and wore the black and yellow tabard of
Duke Ytrevius. After glancing around, he immediately approached Rezkin and
bowed deeply.

“Lord Rezkin, Lord Tieran summons you to attend him at the
estate of Duke Ytrevius at your earliest convenience,” the young messenger
stated succinctly.

Rezkin sipped from his goblet and sat back casually as
though being summoned to one duke’s estate by the heir of another duke was
inconsequential. “Did Lord Tieran mention
why
he was summoning me?” he
asked.

“No, my lord,” the messenger replied uncomfortably. Rezkin
continued to stare at the young man as though waiting for an answer, despite
the fact that the messenger had already given one. The messenger shifted
awkwardly, and his eyes darted around at the curious stares of the others.
Finally, he said, “Ah, my lord, Lord Tieran did not state a reason, but I got
the impression it may have something to do with the tournament.”

 “Of course. We have been training together for some
time. Please inform him that I will arrive within the hour,” Rezkin said
imperiously.

The messenger smiled slightly as his shoulders relaxed. He
bowed once again and said, “Yes, my lord,” before he scampered out the door.

Frisha nudged Rezkin in the arm and asked, “Why did you
press him like that? He obviously didn’t know anything. You only made him
nervous.”

“I was not seeking what he knew,” Rezkin explained. “I was
seeking what he
thought
he knew. I have no doubt that Duke Ytrevius is
monitoring all of Tieran’s correspondence. Whatever Tieran wants, the duke will
believe it has something to do with the tournament after that young man returns
with his report.”

Frisha’s brow furrowed, and she said, “But what is the
point? It probably
is
about the tournament.”

Rezkin shrugged. “It is as useful to know what others
believe
is happening as it is to know what is
actually
happening.”

Hilith was impressed. The young lord was more cunning than
she originally thought. She supposed she should not have been surprised since
he was such a successful businessman, but she had assumed that his family had
assisted him in his financial endeavors. Now, she was not so sure. Surely The
Raven would not scorn her for pursuing a more
permanent
relationship with
the devastatingly handsome, young, rich lord. Her master might even applaud her
ambition and dedication to his cause.

Frisha pondered Rezkin’s assertion for a moment and then
remarked, “My father mentioned something similar one time when he was talking
about getting the best deals. He said that if people
believe
an item is
difficult to acquire or that it is going to be in limited supply, you could
make a much higher profit, even if it wasn’t true. He said it was an
underhanded tactic called…um…the Meager Principal or something like that.”

“The Meagran Principal,” Rezkin corrected. “It is employed
to some extent by almost every businessman, whether craftsman, merchant, or
lord and applies whether the seller is truthful about the product’s
availability or not.”

Blinking several times in surprise, Frisha said, “I didn’t
know you were so knowledgeable about trade, though I should have since you said
you have business all over Ashai.”

“It was one of the
Skills
I was required to master,”
Rezkin replied as he stood.

“Really?” Frisha exclaimed with an excited grin. “My father
will be so pleased!”

Rezkin turned to Hilith and said, “Lady Gadderand, would you
be so kind as to excuse us. It seems I am summoned to the duke’s estate.
Perhaps we may meet another time.”

“Yes, I understand, Lord Rezkin. I will make myself
available any time you wish,” the woman replied with a sultry smile. She
stroked a wandering finger down the handsome lord’s doublet and said, “If you
find yourself in need of
anything
, you may send for me at the Rose and
Thorn Inn.” With one last perusal, Hilith turned and sashayed out the door.

Frisha was furious once again that the woman would be so
forward, but none of the lady’s efforts seemed to have the slightest effect on
Rezkin. The young woman was attempting to cool her temper when a thought
crossed her mind. “Rezkin, when you say ‘master,’ you don’t actually mean
Master
,
do you?”

Rezkin cocked his head as he looked at her curiously. “Yes,
what else could it mean?”

“It’s just that…well, you said you are a Master Healer of
the Mundane and…” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “you are a
Dual-Blade Swordmaster. You are only nineteen years old. How could you possibly
have mastered those skills
and
be a Master Merchant?”

Malcius, Palis and Brandt leaned in with interest and not a
small amount of disbelief and suspicion. Understanding Frisha’s source of
confusion, the warrior shrugged off her concerns.

“It is not a big deal. You people,” Rezkin said as he
gestured to include all in the room, “spend much of your time engaging in
entertainment, conversation,
relaxing
or other non-productive
activities. I, however, had not an idle moment. Every second of every day and
night since infancy was planned, scheduled, and accounted for in training and
education. It was highly efficient.”

“But, a person can only fit so much information into his
mind at once,” Frisha protested.

Rezkin’s brow rose. “Are you certain of that? What is the
limit?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she replied uncertainly.

The warrior shrugged and announced, “I must be off.”

Malcius straightened and inquired, “You are going to Duke
Ytrevius’s estate, then? Perhaps I could accompany you? He has five daughters,
you know. My father would approve of me paying our respects on behalf of the
family.”

Rezkin pondered the proposal for a moment and then shook his
head. “No, I think it would be best if I went alone this time. Tieran’s summons
has filled me with unease.”

“You think some danger could be involved?” Malcius asked
with surprise. “That is all the more reason to desire accompaniment, is it
not?”

“I doubt there is any danger,” Rezkin bluffed. “It could
simply be that Tieran wants last minute pointers before the competition, but it
is equally likely some political intrigue is afoot. Until I know which way the
cart will roll, it is probably best you keep your distance. I would not wish
for your efforts to result in backlash.”

“Oh, I see your point. Good call,” Malcius replied with a
nod.

“I assume you and Palis will perform your duty as Frisha’s
escorts, then?” Rezkin asked as a reminder.

“Yes, of course,” Malcius assured him. “My dear cousin will
be safe. A pre-tournament festival is to be held in the square. We shall
partake of the festivities.”

The warrior grunted and replied, “Do not partake too
fervently. You do have to compete on the morrow.”

The group was laughing and jesting with each other as Rezkin
left the common room. He quickly changed into a doublet and breeches and donned
his high, polished boots before stepping from the dark inn out into the sun.
The warrior saddled his stallion and then rode in a circuitous route to the
duke’s estate. The trip took twice as long as was necessary, but he wanted to
give the horse some exercise. It also gave the warrior the opportunity to
observe some of the newest city guard routes and posts. The assignments and
schedules had been changing almost daily as the city was inundated with
visitors from near and far.

The regular city guard would have been ridiculously
insufficient to contend with the crowd, and while the king had assigned a
framework of regular army to provide some security, the bulk of the forces were
“donated” by each of the four dukes. Squads of Ytrevius’s black and yellow,
Darning’s red and white, Atressian’s blue and silver and Wellinven’s green and
gold patrolled various districts on a rotating schedule.

As Rezkin approached the sprawling estate on the hillside, a
four-man patrol of Ytrevius’s House Guard flanked the warrior.

“Halt! Who approaches the duke’s estate?” the lead guard
called.

Rezkin drew Pride to a halt, but the irritable battle
charger continued to stomp and snort at the riders surrounding him. After a
quick perusal of his detainers, Rezkin concluded that these were the type of
men who had been trained to have certain expectations of a noble lord. Anything
deviating from that expectation would give them pause.

The warrior plastered on a look of boredom, blatantly
examined the liveried soldiers, and then sniffed in disdain, having found them
lacking. “Escort me to the mansion. I have business with Lord Nirius, and I do
not care to bake in this gods forsaken sun all day.”

The soldiers glanced at each other, and the lead guard
asked, “You would be Lord Rezkin, then?”

Rezkin scowled at the man and said, “
Of course
, I am.
Who else would I
be
?” He pulled a silk kerchief from his sleeve and
dabbed at his forehead. After taking in their questioning stares, the young
nobleman sighed heavily and said, “What is it
now
? Must we sit here all
day?”

The lead guard shifted uncomfortably and glanced around the
relatively open clearing. “Ah, my lord, where is your escort?”

Rezkin looked at the man with bewilderment. He chuckled and
then outright laughed. “Escort?
Me
? What need have
I
of an
escort?” he asked arrogantly as he directed his hands at his own torso and then
at the two blades strapped to his hips. He waved a dismissive hand in the air
and said, “I left them with my future bride. She needs them far more than
I
,
obviously
.” One of the guards, who thought he was out of Rezkin’s sight,
rolled his eyes, and another not so subtly coughed into his hand.

“Yes, I see,” the lead guard replied, doing a decent job of
keeping the scorn from his voice. “If I may, my lord, I would suggest keeping
at least a retainer or two with you at all times. The island is crawling with
foreigners and rats who would prey on innocent travelers.”

The nobleman scoffed and said, “That is what
you
are
for, is it not?”

The man bowed in his saddle and said, “Of course, my lord.
We shall endeavor to keep you safe. If you would come with us, then, we shall
escort you to the mansion.”

Rezkin rode along, maintaining his haughtiness as a
disguise, acting as though he was either oblivious to the nature of the threats
around him or truly believed he was capable of fending for himself. He caught
one of the duke’s men, an older man, staring at his horse and then examining
the shortsword sheathed at his right side. The man was more observant than his
comrades. These were obviously not the duke’s best men who were assigned to
patrol the outer grounds, although it was safe to assume they were all decent
swordsmen if they were employed by the duke.

The warrior caught the man’s eye and grinned mischievously.
The guard’s eyes widened and darted around at his companions. They had
completely missed the simple exchange, and when the older man looked back,
Rezkin was once again staring ahead in boredom. For the rest of the ride, the
man refused to take his eyes off Rezkin for a moment.