The Ruby Guardian

'If we are to eliminate Vambran Matrell's meddling-indeed, if we are to eradicate the mercenary's entire household-we are going to have to take some very clever, subtle steps.'

'My help?' Falagh asked, ignoring Grozier and giving the priest his full attention. 'What do I have that you want?'

'Why, your family's naval might, of course,' Lavant replied, a hint of a smile on his face. 'In all its wondrous forms. I think it's time Vambran Matrell met with a tragic accident at sea.'

Falagh began to stroke his mustache again, unable to avoid a smile himself. 'Yes, of course,' he said at last. 'I think I might know how just such a catastrophe could occur.'

'It would seem that your financial woes have been alleviated, then,' Grand Trabbar Lavant said, casually examining a finely wrought statue of a mermaid lounging upon a shard of rock jutting forth from a frothy sea. 'Lobra was not so hard to convince. We told her what she wanted to hear.' The sculpture was of silver inlaid with emerald and lapis, and it sat upon a pedestal in an alcove in one wall of Grozier's drawing room.

Bartimus watched from across the chamber as the priest plucked the delicate mermaid from her perch and studied the craftsmanship. Lavant held it in the light of a nearby lantern hanging from a hook set into the wall and peered closely at the underside, possibly looking for the artist's symbol etched into the silver.

The mage longed to return to his study, for he had research that still beckoned him before he would retire for the night. He knew, however, that he would have to magically return Lavant to his own quarters in the temple beforehand, so he stood patiently and waited as the other two men discussed their meeting with Lobra Pharaboldi.

'Yes, so it would seem,' Grozier agreed absently. 'She was never a bright one, but that was almost too easy. And Falagh was more than happy to offer additional Mestel resources, wasn't he?' the man added, sipping at a mug of chilled wine while he sat in one of his two most comfortable chairs.

Bartimus loved those chairs, with their deep cushions and matching footrests, but he had not been invited to sit, so he stood in a corner, leaning against a bookshelf and watching enviously.

I need to get a chair like those for my own rooms, the mage thought. Good for reading.

'Well, I expected the Mestels to jump at any chance to upend the Matrell household. Obiron the bastard became quite an insult to his half-brother Aulaumaer Mestel, because of all the success House Matrell enjoyed. Old Manycoins has always wanted to see Obiron's descendants dropped right back into the sewers whence they crawled, a fitting end to their upstart ways. So yes, Falagh was eager to get in good with his great uncle by contributing to the downfall of House Matrell.'

Grozier nodded and shrugged.

'And yet you are still unhappy,' the Grand Trabbar said reproachfully, replacing the statue and turning to face his accomplice. 'Our army is in the field, sweeping all rivals out of the Nunwood. Sufficient funds are in place now to control the logging industry. We can move forward with our plans, but you sit there and brood.'

Grozier snorted as he took another swallow from his mug, then he set the vessel down rather abruptly upon a side table, sloshing some of the dark liquid onto his hand. 'That whelp Matrell has ruined my reputation in the city,' the man said in disgust, rising and beginning to pace. 'I went from being the architect of a magnificent business alliance, standing on the verge of greatness, to a near-prisoner in my own estate, all in a matter of three days. Now next to no one will consider doing business with House Talricci. All the creditors are demanding immediate payment for my other ventures.'

'A minor setback, nothing more,' the Grand Trabbar replied, moving to sit in the other comfortable chair. 'With such a sizeable army already in our control, these new funds are more than enough to keep the mercenaries loyal to us for the entire campaign year. Remember, it is not a simple plan we've constructed, and you must have patience.

'We've made it seem like the city of Reth has finally thrown down the gauntlet at Hlath, indeed all of Arrabar, over logging rights. You know that soon enough, Hlath will be forced to respond. All we need now are to get the druids angry enough at both sides to divert the Emerald Enclave's attention from anything else. With a full-scale war raging all along the coastal border of the Nunwood, our own lumber operations elsewhere will be in high demand. Your coffers will begin to fill to overflowing soon enough with the high price of lumber, and when that happens, the creditors will be clamoring for your investments once more. Nothing remains frozen for long in the business dealings of Arrabar.'

Grozier snorted. 'That's easy for you to say,' he replied dryly, still pacing. 'Your role in all of this has been carefully cleansed so no taint is visible. Underlings stepping beyond their bounds, business associates blundering without your knowledge. The whole city isn't clamoring for your head on a pike right now.'

'You're fortunate your head is not already on a pike,' the priest scolded, folding his fingers in his lap. 'You could still be locked in the cells at the bottom of the temple. At least here, you are safe and untouchable. You have doubled the guards, as I suggested?'

Grozier waved the question away impatiently. 'Yes, yes, the estate is safe. No one is going to slip onto the grounds without being seen. And Bartimus here has even established some magical alarms to inform us if someone tries anything more subtle.'

'Then all you need to do is be patient until the furor dies down. None of the other Houses in the city truly care what you have done. They only cry for justice to keep attention away from their own dealings, equally questionable operations that should not suffer the harsh glare of public scrutiny. You're simply the news at the moment, nothing more.'

'I suppose you're right,' Grozier said at last, slumping down into his chair once again. 'But it burns me nonetheless. I do not take well to humiliation. House Matrell needs to feel a little of that for a change.'

'And they will; I assure you,' Grand Trabbar Lavant said, leaning forward and placing a hand upon his ally's arm. 'They will have their due. We will make sure of it.'

'But how?' Grozier asked, looking disgusted once more. 'Hetta's brood seems to have nothing better to do than to attempt to spy on us and everything we have in motion. And I cannot believe that Kovrim Lazelle hasn't proven to be more of a thorn in your side.'

'Do not worry about Kovrim, or Vambran,' Lavant said coldly. 'I already have signed the orders to have them both shipped on a mercy mission to a sister temple in Cimbar. With Kovrim away on campaign, he can't snoop around in my affairs. Once Mestel's 'friends' deal with the two of them, they won't be a problem any longer.'

'Good,' Grozier said, though he still sounded grumpy to Bartimus.

'You will also be glad to know that my latest divinations seem to confirm what I foresaw the last time we spoke. Everything is falling into place for even more support for our cause.'

'Truly?' Grozier asked, an eager gleam appearing in his eyes. 'And you have the backing in the temple to take advantage of it?'

'I believe so,' Lavant replied. 'We will know soon enough. In the meantime, we must get a better handle on what House Matrell is up to if we hope to take advantage of any weaknesses. Divide and conquer is our motto, but even with Vambran and Kovrim out of the way, Hetta and her gaggle of women can still be a problem. We need someone on the inside to convey information back to us on what, exactly, they are planning, so we can mete out suitable counter-strokes.'

Grozier began to nod even before the priest was finished. 'Yes, I have been thinking about that. I think I know just who will help us.'

'I thought that might be your answer. Will she cooperate?'

'Oh, yes. I'll insist on it.' Grozier answered, smiling for the first time all evening.

Darvin Blackcrown stared down at the lights of the city from his perch atop the vine-covered walls of Academia Vilhonus in the Governor's District. From such a vantage point atop the bardic college's main library, he could observe much of the lower city, all the way to the docks, as well as the Generon to the north. In contrast, Darvin's own hiding spot was deep within the shadows of two eaves of an upper floor of the building. No one would think to look up from the library grounds some forty feet below, but even if one did, one would see nothing but shadows.

It was Darvin's favorite retreat, that spot atop the library, and he rested there against the steeply sloped roof, content. He kept his feet braced against a crumbling chimney and reclined against the tiles-still warm from the