"The title holds you as tightly as you hold the title," Kane said. "It is no easy task, bearing the responsibility of an entire kingdom on your shoulders."
"There are times I fear I will bend to breaking."
"One ill decision and people die," said Kane. "And you alone are the protector of justice. If you are overwhelmed, men will suffer. Your guilt stems from a feeling that you are not worthy, of course, but only if you view your position as one of luxury. People need a leader, and an orderly manner in which to choose one."
"And that leader is surrounded by finery," said Gareth, sweeping his hands at the tapestries and sculptures that decorated the corridor. "By fine food and soft bedding."
"A necessary elevation of status and wealth," said Kane, "to incite hope in the common folk that there is a better life for them; if not here then in the afterworld. You are the representative of their dreams and fantasies."
"And it is necessary?"
Kane didn't immediately answer, and Gareth looked closely at the man, great by any measure, yet standing in dirty, road-worn robes. Gareth laughed at that image, thinking that perhaps it was time for the Bloodstone Lands to see a bit more charity from the top.
"Damara is blessed, so her people say, and the goodly folk of Vaasa hold hope that they, too, will be swept under your protection," said Kane. "You heard their cheers at the castle. Wingham and all of Palishchuk call to Gareth to accept their fealty."
"You are a good friend."
"I am an honest observer."
Gareth patted his shoulder again.
"What of Entreri?" Kane asked.
"You should have left that dog dead on the muddy lands of Vaasa," said Lady Christine, coming out of her bedchamber.
Gareth looked at her, shook his head, and asked, "Does his foolish game warrant such a penalty?"
"He slew Lady Ellery, by his own admission," said Kane.
Gareth winced at that, as Christine barked, "What? I will kill the dog myself!"
"You will not," said Gareth. "There are circumstances yet to be determined."
"By his own admission," Christine said.
"I am protector of justice, am I not, Master Kane?"
"You are."
"Then let us hold an inquiry into this matter, to see where the truth lies."
"Then kill the dog," said Christine.
"If it is warranted," Gareth replied. "Only if it is warranted." Gareth didn't say it, and he knew that Kane understood, but he hoped that it would not come to that.
He had just heard the report from Vaasa, where his soldiers held forth at Palishchuk, and motioned to the majordomo to bring forth the Commander of the Heliogabalus garrison, where promising reports had been filtering in for a tenday. But to Gareth's astonishment, and to that of Lady Christine and Friar Dugald who sat with him in chambers, it was not a soldier of the Bloodstone Army who entered through the doors.
It was an outrageous dark elf, his bald head shining in the glow of the morning light filtering in through the many windows of the palace. Hat in hand, giant feather bobbing with every step, Jarlaxle smiled widely as he approached.
The guards at either side bristled and leaned forward, ready to leap upon the dark elf at but a word from their king.
But that word did not come.
Jarlaxle's boots clicked loudly as he made his way along the thickly-carpeted aisle. "King Gareth," he said as he neared the dais that held the thrones, and he swept into a low, exaggerated bow. "Truly Damara is warmer now that you have returned to your home."
"What fool are you?" cried Lady Christine, obviously no less surprised than were Gareth and Dugald.
"A grand one, if the rumors are to be believed," Jarlaxle replied. The three exchanged looks, ever so briefly.
"Yes, I know," Jarlaxle added. "You believe them. 'Tis my lot in life, I fear."
Behind the drow, at the far end of the carpet, the majordomo entered along with the couriers from Heliogabalus. The attendant stopped short and glanced around in confusion when he noticed the drow.
Gareth nodded, understanding that Jarlaxle had used a bit of magic to get by the anteroom—a room that was supposedly dampened to such spells. Gareth's hand went to his side, to his sheathed long sword, Crusader, a holy blade that held within its blessed metal a powerful dweomer of disenchantment.
A look from the king to the sputtering majordomo sent the attendant scrambling out of the room.
"I am surprised that I am surprising," Jarlaxle said, and he glanced back to let them know that he had caught on to all of the signaling. "I would have thought that I was expected."
"You have come to surrender?" Lady Christine asked.
Jarlaxle looked at her as if he did not understand.
"Have you a twin, then?" asked Dugald. "One who traveled to Palishchuk and beyond to the castle beside Artemis Entreri?"
"Yes, of course, that was me."
"You traveled with King Artemis the First?"
Jarlaxle laughed. "An interesting title, don't you agree? I thought it necessary to ensure that you would venture forth. One cannot miss such opportunities as Castle D'aerthe presented."
"Do tell," said Lady Christine.
A commotion at the back of the room turned Jarlaxle to glance over his shoulder, to see Master Kane cautiously but deliberately approaching. Behind him, staying near the door, the majordomo peered in. Then Emelyn the Gray appeared, pushing past the man and quick-stepping into the great room, casting as he went. He looked every which way—and with magical vision as well, they all realized.
Jarlaxle offered a bow to Kane as the man neared, stepping off to the side and standing calmly, and very ready, of course.
"You were saying," Lady Christine prompted as soon as the drow turned back to face the dais.
"I was indeed," Jarlaxle replied. "Though I had expected to be congratulated, honestly, and perhaps even thanked."
"Thanked?" Christine echoed. "For challenging the throne?"
"For helping me to secure the allegiance of Vaasa," Gareth said, and Christine turned a doubting expression his way. "That was your point, I suppose."
"That, and ridding the region immediately surrounding Palishchuk of a couple of hundred goblin and kobold vermin, who, no doubt, would have caused much mischief with the good half-orcs during the wintry months."
At the back of the room, Emelyn the Gray began to chuckle.
"Preposterous!" Friar Dugald interjected. "You were overwhelmed, your plans destroyed, and so now…" He stopped when Gareth held his hand up before him, bidding patience.
"I trust that none of your fine knights were seriously injured by the outpouring of vermin," Jarlaxle went on as if the friar hadn't uttered a word. "I timed the charge so that few, if any, would even reach your ranks before being cut down."
"And you expect gratitude for inciting battle?" Lady Christine asked.
"A slaughter, Milady, and not a battle. It was necessary that King Gareth show himself in battle in deposing King Artemis. The contrast could not have been more clear to the half-orcs—they saw Artemis hoarding monstrous minions, while King Gareth utterly destroyed them. Their cheering was genuine, and the tales they tell of the conquest of Castle D'aerthe will only heighten in heroic proportions, of course. And with Wingham's troupe in town at the time of the battle, those tales will quickly spread across all of Vaasa."
"And you planned for all of this?" Gareth asked, sarcasm and doubt evident in his tone—but not too much so.
Jarlaxle put a hand on one hip and cocked his head, as if wounded by the accusation. "I had to make it all authentic, of course," the drow explained. "The proclamation of King Artemis, the forced march of King Gareth and his army. It could not have been known a ruse to any, even among your court, else your own integrity might have been compromised, and your complicity in the ruse might have been revealed."