He was vaguely aware that she had been crying, but his eyes went immediately to the small, clear container the white wizard held gingerly in her slender fingers.
“That’s it?” he said. The container was barely larger than a thimble, and the contents-a potion of liquid as red as his blood-would barely have filled a teaspoon.
“That’s it,” she said coldly. “You should add it to some wine… red wine, of course. It is tasteless, has no smell. When she drinks, the… the potion will take effect. And you don’t have to worry if you drink some; since it is made from your blood, it will have no effect on you.”
Jaymes reached for the small vial. It was hard to imagine this small amount of liquid had the power to solve his problems.
He looked at Coryn and saw that she was blinking rapidly; her eyes were still moist. He nodded, slowly, and opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t say anything!” she said.
He shrugged, turned away, and departed. The laboratory door slammed behind him so hard and so loudly that he almost dropped the vial.
CHAPTER SIX
The lord regent’s palace guards knew the lord marshal by sight. Though he was not welcome in this place, they also knew better than to try and delay him at the gate. Instead, the sergeant made a great ceremony of greeting the lone rider, ostentatiously ordering the great drawbridge to be lowered while, at the same time, dispatching a runner to warn his master of the impending arrival of the visitor from the plains.
Jaymes barely acknowledged the reception, instead guiding his gelding at a walk into the deep courtyard below the lofty palace walls. Handlers emerged from the stable, and he dismounted before the great doors to the regency residence. He was already striding up the steps before the horse was led away.
Those massive doors swung open at his approach, a pair of guards snapping to attention while an officious, bewigged courtier hastened down the great interior hall.
“My Lord Marshal!” cried Baron Dekage, the regent’s aide-de-camp. “What a splendid-and unexpected- surprise! We had a report that you were in the city but could only hope that you would find the time to pay an official visit to his lordship. He is expecting you, of course. Can I show you the way to his office?”
“I remember how to get there,” Jaymes said brusquely, sweeping past the flustered nobleman. He took another few steps then halted, turning to regard Dekage with a raised eyebrow. “But can you tell me: is Lady Selinda in?”
“Why, er, yes. Yes she is.”
“Could you send word to her? I’d like to drop in and say hello to her after I’ve finished my business with her father.”
“Why, yes, my lord. Of course-I’ll let her know immediately.” The aide started away.
The lord marshal looked up to see Lord Frankish, the captain of the Palanthian Legion, coming up the corridor. The big man walked smoothly, like a great cat. His long arms swung at his sides, and his black mustache shined as if it had just been oiled.
“Excuse me, my lord,” the captain said. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”
“And?” The lord marshal’s tone was bored.
“And”-Frankish, a Lord of the Order of the Rose, stiffened-“I am afraid I must insist that you tell me why you would like to meet with the Princess Selinda.”
“Ask her yourself… after I’m finished,” Jaymes replied. “If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”
“Do you understand, my lord, that my interest in the matter is more than casual?” The lord’s tone was as oily as his mustache. But he was a warrior, and it seemed to take a real effort of will for him not to strike out at the lord marshal.
“I don’t really care what your interest is. I’m not discussing my affairs with you. Good evening.”
Jaymes stalked away. Lord Frankish stood in place for a long time, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he watched the departing figure of the lord marshal.
Lord Regent Bakkard du Chagne was standing at his desk, staring impassively at the door that an attendant opened to admit Jaymes. “Hello, Lord Marshal,” du Chagne said warily. “How fares the campaign against the horde?”
Jaymes shrugged. “As you know, it would be going better if I had use of the Palanthian Legion. Two thousand more knights, with infantry, would probably be enough to turn the tide.”
Du Chagne shook his head. “I’ve told you before-it’s out of the question. They’re my only remaining reserve, and if I send them to the plains, I’ll leave this great city all but undefended.” He offered a reptilian smile. “I will speak to Lord Frankish, to see if he can spare a few companies, however.”
“Don’t bother. I can guess where he stands.”
The lord marshal sat in one of the regent’s comfortable armchairs and helped himself to a cigar from the humidor on the table by the fireplace. He leaned forward and lit the cigar off of an ember from the fading fire. Du Chagne took the adjacent chair, helping himself to a cigar as well. For a moment the two men sat in silence, a cloud of smoke surrounding them until it gradually began to be drawn up the chimney.
“I could make the same arguments that I’ve been making for a year,” Jaymes said with forced casualness. “That the only threat to this city is Ankhar’s army, the force that I’m facing on the plains. That your knights are growing fat and lazy here and need some battle time to remind them who they are and why they exist. But I won’t make those arguments. Not tonight.”
“I’m pleased that you have started to see the matter through my eyes,” du Chagne noted, smiling. “After all, you have three armies under your command already. And it’s simply not wise to put all of our troops too far away from the base of our power… which is here, of course, in Palanthas. And you know, as to funding, of course I will continue to meet your payroll needs. Here in the city we’re all grateful for the job you and your men are doing-truly we are. But it’s-”
“I’m not making those arguments tonight because I didn’t come here to see you,” Jaymes interrupted sharply. “I knew that would have been a waste of time.”
Du Chagne’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you come here, then?”
“I came to see your daughter. I just stopped in your office for appearance’s sake. We both know that there’s no point in going over the same ground we’ve been debating for the last year.”
“My daughter?” The lord regent was nonplussed. He stood up, puffing his cigar until a furious coal glowed at the end then paced over toward his desk. He paused and turned to face his visitor. “Listen to me, Jaymes. I want you to stay away from her!”
Jaymes stood up. “I’m happy to hear it. Because I also came here to give you a message regarding your daughter: Your wishes are of no concern to me,” he said.
Du Chagne’s eyes suddenly flicked to the door, and the lord marshal turned to see Lord Frankish and a lord knight dressed in a white tunic with the Kingfisher emblem. Jaymes recognized the magic-user by reputation, though the two men had never met. The two strode into the office unannounced but clearly welcomed by the lord regent.
“Ah, my lords!” declared du Chagne, obviously relieved. “Welcome. Lord Marshal, this is Sir Russel Moorvan of the Kingfishers.” The regent waved absently at the white-clad lord, who regarded Jaymes with an odd smile of curved lips.
“Your reputation precedes you, Lord Marshal,” said the magic-using knight.
“I see that you arrived safely from Sancrist,” Jaymes said wryly. Moorvan flushed-the placid waters from Sancrist to Palanthas offered one of the most secure sea routes of Ansalon.
“Several of my companies are arriving shortly. I intend to have one of them join your units in the field,” the mage declared icily. “If they would be welcome.”
Jaymes nodded, his eyebrows raised. “I can use men who can fight-whether with swords or sorcery.”
