“Indeed, Sire, this is how it has gone in the past, but my sources indicate that this group of rebels is especially pernicious and cunning enough to have avoided discovery up to now.”
“Do you have specific information? Where are these slaves posted-what is the nature of their plans?”
The king began to sense an opportunity here. One of his queen’s most valuable functions had been to discern these types of plots, and if he could put her onto the trail of something like this, it would provide the perfect distraction through the next week until the ceremony at Autumnblight.
“The best indication is that at least some of the rebels are posted in the Nobles’ Marketplace. I wish that I could give you more specifics, but alas, I have none to offer. However, the rumors indicate that the movement is widespread and continues to gain support.”
“Captain, I thank you for the valuable information,” said Grimwar Bane, rising to make his farewells. “I will bring this matter up with the queen. Perhaps we shall be able to offer some compelling sacrifices this year in the ceremony of the Autumnblight.”
“Your Majesty does me great honor,” Captain Verra replied. “I thank you for hearing me. It is my most sincere hope that these rascals can be publicly brought to justice.”
“Yes,” agreed the king, as he departed. “I think that would be a happy ending for all concerned.”
Thraid relaxed in the tub of steaming water, pleasant memories of her lover drifting through her mind.
It especially pleased her that the king had seemed just a little jealous of her new slave when he learned that she had taken him to the Nobles’ Marketplace. She enjoyed teasing him about things like that, but it only seemed fair. Didn’t he know that she got jealous, knowing he had to go back to that cow of an ogress every night?
Yes, indeed … it was a rare pleasure to be able to turn the tables. She giggled quietly as she sank deeper into the tub. Was her water getting a little cool? It didn’t really matter, come to think of it.
“Oh, Whalebone?” she called, sitting up a little, so that the upper globes of her massive breasts emerged, slick and shiny, from the bath.
“Yes, lady?” he asked, discreetly remaining on the other side of the door.
“I need some more hot water. Bring it to me, at once!”
“Of course,” he said. She heard the scrape of a pot as he put it on the stove to warm. In a few minutes, she would have him pour it into the tub.
Perhaps she would ask him to scrub her back.
“In the temple this morning … I had a vision of the Axe of Gonnas,” Stariz announced to Grimwar Bane as they dined together at the long table in the royal apartments.
The king suppressed a sigh. He had had a very pleasant day and thus far had escaped any meaningful conversation with his wife. Now he would have to feign interest in this most tiresome subject. He lifted his head from his haunch of beef to look at her and nodded in what he hoped looked like a thoughtful gesture.
“Indeed. Was it unusual?” he asked.
He knew the queen’s bitterness over the loss of that treasured artifact. She tirelessly grieved over it. However, since this was one of the few difficulties in her life that she had never been able to blame on him, he allowed himself a perverse pleasure as she discussed it.
“Yes!” she said, her eyes flashing with excitement. “That’s just it-it was a hopeful message, a sign from the Willful One! I believe we have the chance to regain the axe!”
The king’s expression immediately darkened. “If this is a dream that sends me to Brackenrock again, I’m not going!” he warned. “How many hundreds of my warriors must die before you’re content? Besides, winter is closing in-”
He was somewhat surprised when she shook her head, cutting him off.
“No, the axe is near. The axe is coming to us!”
“Did your vision explain how the axe is traveling?” he asked, more tartly than he intended.
She didn’t seem to notice his skeptical tone. “Someone is bearing it. Mostly he keeps it masked, or I would sense it more strongly, but twice now he has used it, pulled the cover away from it. I could hear it calling to me, full of promise, crying for vengeance. It is the will of Gonnas, my lord!”
This conversation was getting more disturbing with each utterance. “What about the elf? Did you dream about the Elven Messenger?”
That, of course, was his great nightmare, that he would again be tormented by the creature who had been behind his problems for eight years. It was the elf who had taken the axe, who had led the Arktos across the sea to Brackenrock, and it was he who had drawn the king on his last, fateful adventure to Dracoheim. Although there was no evidence, he had hoped the elf was dead.
Stariz shook her head. “No, I saw no suggestion of any specific person. I think we are safe in the knowledge that he was killed in the explosion of the Golden Orb.”
“Yes … he must be dead, and that woman, too, the chieftain of Brackenrock, but then who else has the talisman of our god? Who is bringing the Axe of Gonnas to Winterheim?”
“That is what I intend to find out. I shall go to the temple again in the morning. There I will pray to the Willful One and hope that he favors me with illumination. My lord husband, I am convinced that this is a real opportunity. Trust me, the axe is nearby!”
“I trust you,” he said, lying. “Let me know as soon as you learn anything else.”
“Certainly, Sire, I will,” she replied, bowing her head meekly.
“Very well. Now, I intend to retire early tonight,” he said, pushing back his chair, rising to make his escape. It was only then that he remembered the subject raised by Captain Verra, a matter that could benefit from his wife’s unique skills. “One more thing, my queen?”
“Yes, Lord King?” Stariz waited expectantly.
“Have your contacts reported any rumblings about unrest among the slaves-more than the usual, I mean? Do you have any indications of a possible uprising?”
“I cannot say that any such reports have come to my attention, not in the immediate past,” she replied. “Of course, there were those treacherous smiths I discovered in the foundry last fall, but we put them to death at the Sturmfrost feast, you recall. Why do you ask this? Have you heard a rumor?”
“Just something from one of the grenadiers-a good officer. He said that there was some unusual activity in the Nobles’ Marketplace, and he wondered about some of the slaves there.”
“Interesting. It is a place where the humans mingle with little supervision,” Stariz said. “I agree, it’s a potentially dangerous situation. I will look into the matter at once.”
“I knew you would,” said the king, content that the issue was in capable hands. He exited the dining room with a bounce in his step, ready to get a good night’s rest.
After the way Thraid had been working him, Gonnas knew, he needed it.
Strongwind waited until everyone in the apartment was asleep. Brinda, the last to retire, had blown out her lamp a half hour earlier, and he could hear the measured breathing coming from behind the curtain where she and her husband shared a pallet. Slowly, quietly, the Highlander rose to his feet and padded out of the slave quarters into the great room. He pulled the outer curtain closed over the slaves’ alcove, and ignited a small oil lamp.
Next he pressed his ear to Thraid’s door, satisfied to hear the sonorous snores that meant his mistress was drowsing deeply. He was relieved that she had demanded a drink after her bath and that he had had the foresight to make it very strong. He hoped she was sleeping very soundly.
Finally, he looked around, wondering where to start his search for the secret door. He ruled out the walls of the kitchen, since they fronted the courtyard. Likewise Thraid’s bed chamber-one wall of which abutted the street outside.