One night nine months ago, however, a suspiciously orderly group of brigands attacked the estate. Though wearing the apparel and brandishing the weapons of outlaws, the men who raided Aquinta fought with the discipline and tactics of seasoned soldiers and veterans of many campaigns.
Kranderon and his men were overrun. The squire of Aquinta saw his only son fall, fighting valiantly to protect his young wife. Kranderon himself was taken prisoner, and forced to watch as the soldiers disguised as outlaws had their sport with his daughter-in-law, the mother of his three grandchildren, in view of her fallen husband's corpse. When they had finished with her, one man held her head back by her hair and slit her throat. The raiders laughed as her life's blood shot high into the air.
They slashed and burned a large portion of the vineyards, and they broke into the cellars and smashed open the aging vintage. Kranderon watched as a fortune in wine spilled across the floors of his home and mingled with the blood of its fallen defenders. Then the raiders hung the squire by the neck with one of his own supple young grapevines. As Kranderon slowly strangled, they fired arrows into nonvital parts of his body to increase his agony. Then they rode into the night, taking no plunder with them as brigands were wont to do.
The message was clear to all the other squires in outlying areas. Theron's wrath was keen and swift to vengeance. The other estate masters flocked to Theron's court to join the ranks of sycophants clinging to the last shreds of a rotted, corrupt Empire.
But the sacking of Aquinta had not been complete, Mariat had cloistered herself with her grandchildren-Keldrick, Darseeya, and five-yearold Timock-in the secret vaults hidden beneath the wine cellars. Those gloomy catacombs were known on!y to Kranderon and Mariat. It was there that they wisely hid their finest, most expensive vintage. Mariat's quick thinking saved herself and her grandchildren from the maelstrom of violence which descended on Aquinta that night.
The four surviving members of Kranderon's family left their hiding place and crawled through the wreckage of the once formidable estate. In the throes of initial shock, Mariat was able to organize the remaining servants and bury her dead. Over the next few days, she denied herself the luxury of grief, for she knew that she must act quickly to assure her family's survival. She retrieved her husband's cache of money (which was not small by any means) and arranged for a caravan to take her south, out of the reach of vengeful Theron.
Mariat loaded one wagon full with her husband's finest vintage. The bottles of wine which would have purchased a small kingdom before were now made priceless because Aquinta was no more. The tragedy which had devastated Mariat's family had also placed a fortune in the woman's hands. The irony was not lost on her.
In a second wagon she loaded the few possessions her family would take with them, along with a secret she and her most trusted servants had worked far into the night to harvest. This secret of Mariat's was her key to rebuilding a viable future for her family in Sanctuary.
So now she was here in the city of new hopes and opportunities. As dawn broke through the window other room in the Warm Kettle, Mariat threw off both the bonds of sleep and the chains of the past. She refused to let self-pity or grief deter her from her course. It was a new day in Sanctuary, and time for new beginnings.
In fact, Mariat thought, it would be a lovely day to take the children outside the city's walls for a picnic in the open lands.
It is often thought, but entirely untrue, that evil and ugliness always go hand in hand. In Bakarat's case, however, those two nonvirtues blended together in imperfectly perfect harmony.
He was called "the Toad" by his associates and others (though not to his face). One look at his person would abate any suspicions as to the veracity of the nickname.
His buttocks and gut were mammoth in proportion. Those who dealt with him often wondered if they would have to widen the doors of their business establishments to admit him. Atop those heaps and rolls of quivering flesh sat a hideous apparition of a head. As if in mockery of manly features, Bakarat's neckless head looked as though some insanely humorous god had sculptured in living flesh the likeness of a toad made human.
But Bakarat's mind was by no means as sluggish as his wobbly gait.
The Toad was known as the most successful merchant and entrepreneur in Sanctuary. Though all found the vision of his person revolting, none
could afford to offend the wealthy merchant.
The Toad had not attained his exalted economical status by entirely honest means, either. Next to the legendary Jubal, he ran one of Sanctuary's most sophisticated and complex information and crime networks. In fact, it was rumored that the only reason Jubal had not eliminated this potential rival was the fact that Bakarat paid him well to turn a blind eye to his clandestine endeavors.
But Bakarat was also known for his expertise and shrewd deployment of business ventures. And this was why Mariat had arranged an appointment to see him the day after she took the children outside the city walls.
It had been nice to get the children outside the city and into the clean country air for a while. But the day had been profitable in more ways than one for the wine merchant's widow. For the land she saw about Sanctuary pleased her very much, and she was certain that much that had lain untouched for many years could be put to good use.
Now the realities of the business world had brought Mariat reluctantly to Bakarat's doorstep. The disdain she felt for the sniveling excuse for manhood which offered her a chair in his office was expertly hidden behind her facade of genteel grace. Mariat was far too good a socialite to let her feelings and emotions show in her demeanor.
Bakarat was also unreadable as he sat down across from her at his desk. When she had asked his scribe for an appointment the evening before, the Toad had immediately put his information network into action to find out all he could about the Rankan woman. After all, it was not often a woman of her apparent stature would condescend to deal with a "Wriggly" merchant such as Bakarat.
What he found out, he thought he could put to good use to serve his own greedy interests. He now knew, through his grapevine which reached even into honest establishments such as the Warm Kettle, that Mariat was the widow of the famous and recently departed Kranderon, squire of Aquinta Winery. This meant that the woman was perhaps well moneyed, and Bakarat's mind whirled with the possibilities of cheating her out of her fortune. It was also a safe assumption that, like most Rankan women of station, Mariat was not the keen business person her husband had been. The Toad relished the idea of taking advantage of the woman's plight.
"Now, what may I do to serve you, madame?" the Toad intoned, being sure to address the woman according to her former station and thereby hopefully gain her trust. He had to make Mariat believe that he was concerned with her best interests in order to take full advantage of her.
"I have a proposal for you and your friends," Mariat said, coming straight to the point.
"Friends?" the fat man queried. "What friends are those? I am afraid I don't know what you are talking about." He smiled, approximating a look of ignorant innocence admirably.
"Come now, good sir, if we are to quibble over the realities of your business dealings we shall be here all day," Mariat countered, blunt but still pleasantly sociable. "And believe me, sir, with my busy schedule I do not have time to argue over trivial matters at the moment."
"But of course," the Toad said, beginning to re-evaluate the woman's business savvy, "However, I fail to see what my fellow merchants can help you with that I cannot. Perhaps you should tell me a little more about exactly what it is you are proposing?"