The Devil's Deuce (The Barrier War) (9 page)

“Birch de’Valderat,” the elf replied with equal respect. The
two of them had accompanied Danner when Birch’s nephew had been on the run from
the Men for Mankind Coalition, and Maran
[12]
had stayed with them until they reached
Nocka. Maran was already familiar with the other paladins on the ship, having
met them on the road to Nocka, but none of them had yet met Birch’s brother.

Hoil was every bit as large as Birch, and the two were
almost identical from the neck down. Hoil was noticeably less muscular, and his
broad frame belied a speed that was so fast it was almost inhuman. Birch’s
speed and reflexes were similarly impressive, but he’d always known his brother
was faster.

“My luck runs true,” Hoil said boisterously as he clapped
his brother on the back. “I saw the armor and told the signalman to send the
coded message just in case, and lo and behold, here you are, Birch.”

“Gentlemen, this is my brother, Hoil de’Valderat, a thief
from the city of Marash,” Birch said in introduction. “Hoil, may I present
James
Tarmin
, Perklet
Perkal
,
Garet
jo’Meerkit
, Vander Wayland, and Nuse
Rojena
.” At a noise behind Birch, he turned and smiled.
“And of course, you already know Moreen.”

“Hello, Hoil,” she said, smiling wanly as she extended a
hand. Instead, Hoil gripped her in a massive bear hug and swung her around,
which was a mistake. Moreen’s face turned a peculiar shade of bluish green and
she threw up over Hoil’s shoulder, drenching the back of his tunic.

Moreen murmured an apology, then darted back toward her
cabin, her cheeks aflame with mortification.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Birch,” Hoil said, his own cheeks
slightly red, “I should have remembered.” Maran was helpfully wiping down the
back of Hoil’s gray tunic with a cloth, and every few seconds Birch saw the
elf’s lips twitch.

Birch waved it away. “What are you doing out here? Or is
this something I really shouldn’t be asking about?”

Hoil glanced uneasily over his shoulder at Maran, who nodded
slightly.

“He may know,” the one-eared elf said with his soft voice, then
he glanced meaningfully at the first mate and several nearby deckhands.
“However…”

James quickly asked the dwarven sailors to give them some
privacy, and they grudgingly complied. Birch was grateful no one had suggested
they all go below decks. Some of the rooms might accommodate all of them, but
it would be cramped, and Birch felt uneasy just thinking about it.

Even with the sailors gone, Hoil spoke in a low, calm voice.
“Maran received a message that his brother was dead, and he…”

“Not just dead,” Maran said quietly, “murdered.”

“Right,” Hoil said with a shrug. “Anyway, he’s returning
home to
El’aman’niren’a
, the elven capital, for his
funeral, and I decided it was time for a change in scenery, so I’m going with
him.”

“Hoil,” Maran said quietly, “he is your brother. It is
unseemly to lie to one’s kin.”

Birch quirked an eyebrow and stared curiously at Hoil, who
was busy scowling at Maran.

“You know, for a thief, you pick some of the most
unfortunate times to develop these little streaks of integrity,” Hoil said
crossly. “I was going to tell him the rest without the other ears around,” he
added, gesturing without a shred of shame at the other paladins gathered around
him. James glanced bemusedly at Birch, then back at Hoil, who sighed before
adding, “Fine, you tell him then. You keep telling me it’s only a family
member’s job to talk about family, so start talking.”

Maran smiled thinly, then stared evenly at Birch.

“Your brother is correct as far as he said, but he neglected
to mention a few details. First, I am not returning for his funeral so much as
I am to pay my respects, but more importantly, I intend to discover the
identity of his murderer and avenge him. Second, your brother agreed to
accompany me because it was likely a political killing, and I may need some
assistance from someone I can trust.”

“Why a political killing?” James asked, interrupting.

Maran glanced calmly at him, then addressed Birch as though
the Yellow paladin hadn’t spoken.

“Third, this is no small matter, because my brother was the
crown prince of the elven nation. My father is the king.”

James let out a low whistle and his eyes grew troubled.
Birch’s reaction was similar, and James’s next words confirmed they’d been
thinking the same thing.

“Imagine the political turmoil, and at such a crucial point
with the rest of what’s going on,” James said behind Birch, echoing his
thoughts. “Coincidence?”

“What does he mean?” Maran asked Birch.

With a quick glance at James, who nodded, Birch told Hoil
and Maran the history of their quest and described its first milestone with the
destruction of Sal. When he told them their current destination, Merishank, and
their reasons for going there, the thieving pair finally nodded in
comprehension.

“So you think my brother’s killer might be this immortal?
One of The Three?”

“It’s a possibility,” James said, nodding, “and it’s not one
we can ignore.”

“Why does it seem my luck in finding you here may turn out
to be Thieves’ Luck?” Hoil asked suspiciously.

“Where some men see luck, others see God’s hand, brother,”
Birch said with the barest hint of a smile. He ignored Hoil’s grimace and
turned to James. “Who are you intending to…”

“Perklet, Nuse, front and center,” James barked. Then he
turned to Maran and Hoil. “
El’Maran
,” James said
formally, “with your permission, I would like to send half of my
jintaal
,
under the command of paladin Birch de’Valderat, with you to investigate the
nature of your brother’s death. Will you accept our help?”

Maran stared at him speculatively for a moment, then turned
his attention to Birch and the other two paladins who were to accompany him.
His gaze weighed them individually, then as a group. Finally, he nodded.

“If your suspicions are correct, I would be foolish not to
have a holy blade at my side. Very well, I accept your help, with a condition,”
Maran said, then he turned to Birch. “When we arrive in the elven lands, your
life may hinge on obeying my instructions, which may mean nothing to you at the
time. I require your pledge that you will obey me in all matters, unless careful
weighing leads you to believe you have acted or will act in a manner against
the principles of your Prismatic Order. In such a case, you are free to leave
our lands, so long as you do not compromise whatever plans I may have enacted.
I also require a pledge of secrecy in certain matters that you may discover,
whose nature I will inform you of as it becomes necessary.

“In return,” he said before Birch could open his mouth to
object, “you have my pledge that I will do my utmost to keep you informed of all
situations, my actions, my decisions, and any other information pertinent to
our success and survival. I will never knowingly ask you to violate, or by
cause of action violate, any of your principles, and I will look after your
safety as my own.”

He drew a thin-bladed sword that had remained all but
invisible beneath the folds of his cloak. Maran held the sword resting on his
upturned palms, with the hilt on his left hand.

“Are these terms acceptable?” Maran asked intently.

Birch considered the elf’s words carefully. Nowhere had he
heard anything that sounded suspicious or convoluted in an attempt to hide some
twist of words or secret agenda. If it was carefully worded, it was because of
the bizarre nature of the pledges Maran was proffering. Birch stared at the
elf’s upturned face, and their eyes nearly met.

Wordlessly, Birch lifted Maran’s sword, reversed it, and
gave it back so the elven thief was gripping the hilt with his right hand. While
Maran sheathed his sword, Birch drew his own blade and mimicked the elf’s
earlier position. Maran in turn copied Birch and returned his sword to him.
They had sealed their pledges to each other, and each would die before breaking
his oath.

“I accept your help,” Maran said needlessly to James.

Birch sheathed his sword, ignoring the burning sensation he
felt in his fingers whenever he held the weapon. Almost from the moment he’d
received his blade from the Prismatic Order before starting this quest, he’d
had an allergic reaction of some sort when he held the hilt in his bare hands.
Since then, it had gotten progressively worse. Now, he felt an intense burning
sensation whenever he held the sword, even if he was wearing his gloves or when
he was in full armor. The pain was bearable for a while, but eventually he
would have to let go of the sword or else go mad with agony. He’d told no one
about it, of course. He had enough problems dealing with his cloak and his eyes
without adding to it by making people wonder about this latest abnormality.

Nuse and Perklet transferred their goods to Hoil’s ship with
a minimum of fuss, and Hoil only smiled when Birch told him Moreen would be
accompanying them. Maran nodded in acceptance, but was likewise silent.

James stopped Birch before he boarded the other vessel.

“You realize that if we’re right, and one of The Three is in
Nocka masquerading as a member of the Prismatic Council, then most likely only
one of us will find a demon on our quest,” James said in a low voice. “If you
find that there is and was no demonic activity, finish your business quickly
and make for Nocka. If there is no word of us, come to Merishank and conduct
your own investigations. God willing, we will meet then or in Nocka. Without an
elven escort, we cannot follow, and you’re on your own with no hope for rescue.
I leave this to your discretion.”

Birch nodded and gripped James’s shoulder.

“Go with God, brother,” he said.

Together they recited, “For God and for man. For life.”

Then Birch leapt to his brother’s ship and they curved away
to the north while the dwarven ships sailed south. Long after the ship was out
of sight, Birch stared at the horizon where he’d last seen the gleam of James’s
armor as the Yellow paladin stared after him.

Men are not created equal, nor are they treated as such. Of these, only
the latter should be true.

- Blue Paladin
Samuth
Weiderkin
,

lecture given at the Chapterhouse (405 AM)

- 1 -

“Danner, I need help!”

Trebor’s frantic mental cry broke Danner’s concentration and
a hole opened in his defense. The Red paladin he was sparring against
immediately went for the opening, and Danner spent the next few frantic moments
keeping the paladin’s bowkur away from him. Finally he beat the Red back and
disarmed him with a swift stroke, then simulated running the man through in the
same motion. The Red paladin smiled in approval, lifted his bowkur, and saluted
Danner. Danner returned the salute, then went in search of water.

“What’s wrong, Trebor?”
he replied, hoping his friend
was listening.

“My group got drafted
to help clean up after a group of paladins experimenting with incendiary
warfare, and they were burning elven oak.”
Trebor’s voice was near frantic.

“I don’t see the
problem…”
Danner began.

“That will ruin my
fake skin coloration,”
Trebor replied, now terrified.
“Oh, Hell, the floor is covered with this stuff. There’s no way I can
avoid it.”

“Think of a way out of it, damn it,”
Danner said,
trying to put some confidence into his friend. Trebor was too frightened to
think clearly. He was so confused, he kythed Danner his thoughts even as he was
saying them aloud.

“But sir, I’m allergic
to elven oak,”
Danner heard in his head.
“I’ll start coughing. I’ll itch.”

Danner could tell that Trebor was just babbling now, and he
started running toward where he knew Trebor’s squad would be. His thoughts
raced, trying to think of an excuse to pull Trebor away that would not only be
plausible, but would be verifiable later. Perhaps Jon had asked for Trebor for
some extra training in healing.

That’s it,
he
thought.
Perfect. Jon will help us out,
I’m sure. Or Trebor could just work carefully and wear gloves. Maybe a mask.

Danner turned down a covered promenade and heard raised voices
arguing ahead. As he raced closer, he picked out the voices and what was being
said.

Trebor was pleading with their instructor to let him out of
the work, while
Ashfen
Diermark
was arguing much more loudly that Trebor should have to work just like everyone
else.

“Look, Dok,” the instructor said, “I understand about an
allergy, but that’s what the Greens are for, to heal little things like that. I
understand you’re no mean healer yourself, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But, sir…”

Danner rounded the corner and opened his mouth to call out
to the instructor. Trebor and
Ashfen
were standing in
front of the Blue paladin. Behind them, a layer of white ash at least an inch
thick blanketed the open courtyard from wall to wall. Several other trainees
were already crouching over the ash and shoveling it into buckets. The recent
personal attacks against Danner’s friends had influenced many of the other
trainees against them, and several of those present were glowering in Trebor’s
direction, no doubt thinking he was trying to get out of work.

“Don’t argue,” the Blue said.

He gripped Trebor’s shoulders, turned him around, and gave
him a gentle shove toward the ash. From Danner’s vantage, he saw
Ashfen
surreptitiously stick out a foot, and Danner’s
breath caught in his throat. Off balance from the paladin’s shove, Trebor
tripped over
Ashfen’s
foot and went sprawling into
the white powder. His hands flew forward to brace his fall, but he still got a
face full of ash.