Whisper of Venom

“It’s the way of wyrmkeepers,” Tchazzar said, “to attach themselves to one dragon or another. Those who committed offenses against Chessenta plainly serve Alasklerbanbastos or his lieutenants. The ones who pledged their devotion to me are just as obviously a different group.”

“Then why did they keep me prisoner for days on end without telling anyone?” Cera asked. “Why did they torture me to find out what I knew about their schemes? Why, if they have nothing to hide?”

“Frankly, milady,” Luthen said, “if they held you for a little while and twisted your arm a bit, that’s regrettable. But no more than you deserve for your meddling. Undertaken, I would assume, without the knowledge of your patriarch.” He turned an inquiring eye on Daelric.

Stout and ruddy-faced, his yellow vestments trimmed with amber and topaz, the sunlord took a long breath, then let it out again. “I knew nothing about it, and, rest assured, I will discipline her. But I must also say that the person of a priestess of Amaunator is sacred, and I’m outraged at the treatment she’s received.”

Halonya made a spitting sound. “No one cares a turd about your outrage.”

“Did you even understand that many of your new clerics are actually wyrmkeepers?” Daelric replied. “Did you even know they were holding a sunlady prisoner? I think not, just as I’m reasonably certain you can’t perform even the simplest feat of divine magic to support your pretensions to sanctity.”

“I proclaimed her a prophet and a priestess!” Tchazzar snapped. “Do you question my ‘pretensions’ to divine Power as well?”

Daelric’s pink block of a face turned white. “No, Majesty, of course not. It’s just … Lady Halonya is a visionary, but likewise an i

“Apologize,” said Tchazzar. “On your knees.”

Daelric swallowed. “Yes, Majesty.” He started to lower himself before the throne.

“No,” said Tchazzar. “To her.”

The high priest faltered.

“Do it,” Tchazzar said. “Or I’ll break you into something so wretched that even an illiterate pauper will look like a queen to you.”

Daelric stiffly kneeled before Halonya. “I apologize,” he said, “for doubting your fitness for your office.”

Halonya lashed him across the face with the back of her hand. The big red stones she wore on every finger tore his skin, and Tchazzar smelled the coppery tang of the beads of blood. “Now I forgive you,” she said in a tone as sweet as honey.

It was fu

Well, if they wanted their master serious, so be it. There were still judgments to hand down.

“Captain Fezim,” he said, “we have yet to explore a fundamental point. What are you doing in Luthcheq at all?”

“I came back to urge you to come to the border as fast as possible,” the war-mage said.

Tchazzar noticed that unlike many other people, Aoth had no difficulty looking him in the eye. There was a part of him that respected that, and also a part that wondered if such boldness was the outward manifestation of disrespect. “I already told you I’ll come when it’s necessary.”

“Majesty, it’s necessary now. The dracolich is bringing all his strength to bear, including his circle of dragons. We griffon riders managed to kill a wyrm at Soolabax, but we can’t handle all of them. Not without your help and the support of the troops still hanging around this city.”

“Majesty, this is misdirection,” Luthen said. “Since the Thayan already had your assurances, it’s obvious he ignored his responsibilities in the field to search for his missing accomplice.”

Like Daelric before him, Nicos didn’t look happy about needing to speak up on behalf of his protege, but he evidently felt that he couldn’t let his rival’s remarks pass unchallenged. “Majesty, who is Lord Luthen to criticize any decision that a soldier as famous as Captain Fezim might make concerning the conduct of the war?”

Luthen sneered. “He does have a kind of fame, I’ll grant you that. Or maybe notoriety is a better word. For breaking his contract with the Simbarch Council of Aglarond, taking the zulkirs of the Wizard’s Reach on a foredoomed expedition that cost each and every one of them their lives, and losing to a rabble of crazed demon-worshipers in Impiltur. When Shala Karanok was war hero, I warned her about trusting such a man, or relying on the judgment of the counselor who sponsored him. Unfortunately she ignored me, but perhaps Your Majesty will find a measure of prudence in my words.”

“Yes,” Tchazzar said, “if only because I don’t like people creeping around behind my back.” He fixed his gaze on Cera. “I leave your punishment to Daelric. I’m confident it will be severe, because I’m going to require him to donate the tenth part of your church’s revenue until such time as my new temple is complete.”

“Yes, Majesty.” Daelric dabbed at his face with a bloody handkerchief.

Tchazzar turned his gaze on Nicos. “Poor judgment is a lesser offense than sacrilege. Still, it carries a penalty. You’ll donate the twentieth part of your income.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Nicos said.

Tchazzar glowered at Aoth. “Now, what to do with you?”

The war-mage still had no difficulty meeting his gaze. “Nothing. Not if you’re wise. Cera poked into the wyrmkeepers’ business because she thought Amaunator wanted her to, for the good of Chessenta. Maybe she was right, or maybe not, and I was just as misguided to try and pull her out of trouble. Either way, this little affair means nothing compared to the defense of the realm. And you need the Brotherhood to see to that.”

“You forget I’ve been to war with sellswords many times. I know what drives you. Your men will happily fight under a new commander if the price is right.”

“I’d make damn sure of that before you do anything you can’t undo.”

Tchazzar recognized that he almost certainly could make good use of Aoth Fezim. But it felt like the mortal was defying him, and suddenly that blasphemy seemed more important than any mundane consideration of military matters ever could. He drew breath to order the Thayan’s arrest.

Then Jhesrhi cleared her throat. It surprised Tchazzar a little. So often uncomfortable in crowds, she’d been quiet and still up until then, so much so that despite her golden comeliness and the esteem in which he held her, he’d all but forgotten she was there.

His anger cooling slightly, he said, “My lady? Is there something you wish to say?”

“I want to plead for clemency.” She waved her tawny-ski

“Are you sure?” Tchazzar asked. “It occurs to me that with Captain Fezim locked away to contemplate the fruits of sacrilege and insolence, you could command the Brotherhood of the Griffon.”

“That’s kind,” the wizard said. “But I don’t want to be a war leader. Even if I did, I would never want to steal what rightfully belongs to Aoth. He once saved me in much the same way.… What I mean to say is, I know in my heart that he and Cera truly were trying their best to serve Chessenta and you.”

“They desecrated your sanctuary!” Halonya snarled. “They have to pay!”

“Not if His Majesty shows them mercy,” Jhesrhi said.

“Witch!” Halonya replied. “Witch whore to a Thayan wizard! Naturally you don’t understand the importance of sacred things!”

Jhesrhi took a long breath as though quelling the impulse to answer Halonya’s gibe in kind. Then she said, “Majesty, you’ve been more than generous to me, and I’m grateful. But unlike Lady Halonya, I’ve never asked you for anything-”