in my room. The majority of these were scandalous, spiteful things. But their petty meanness suited my mood and helped distract me from my own misery.
Thus I learned the previous Compte Banbride hadn’t died of consumption, but of syphilis contracted from an amorous stable hand. Lord Veston was addicted to Denner resin, and money intended for the maintenance of the king’s road was paying for his habit.
Baron Jakis had paid several officials to avoid scandal when his youngest daughter was discovered in a brothel. There were two versions of that story, one where she was selling, and another where she was buying. I filed that information away for future use.
I’d started a second bottle of wine by the time I read that young Netalia Lackless had run away with a troupe of traveling performers. Her parents had disowned her, of course, leaving Meluan the only heir to the Lackless lands. That explained Meluan’s hatred of the Ruh, and made me doubly glad I hadn’t made my Edema blood public here in Severen.
There were three separate stories of how the Duke of Cormisant flew into rages while in his cups, beating whoever happened to be nearby, including his wife, his son, and several dinner guests. There was a brief speculative account of how the king and queen held depraved orgies in their private gardens, hidden from the eyes of the royal court.
Even Bredon made an appearance. He was said to conduct pagan rituals in the secluded woods outside his northern estates. They were described with such extravagant and meticulous detail that I wondered if they weren’t copied directly from the pages of some old Aturan romance.
I read well into the evening, and was only halfway through the stack of stories when I finished the bottle of wine. I was just about to send a runner for another when I heard the soft hush of air from the other room that announced Alveron’s entrance into my chambers through his secret passage.
I pretended to look surprised when he entered the room. “Good afternoon, your grace,” I said as I came to my feet.
“Sit if you wish,” he said shortly.
I remained standing out of deference, as I’d learned it was better to err on the side of formality with the Maer. “How are things progressing with your lady?” I asked. From Stapes’ excited gossip, I knew matters were rapidly coming to a close.
“We pledged a formal troth today,” he said distractedly. “Signed papers and all. It’s done.”
“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, your grace, you don’t seem very pleased.”
He gave a sour smile. “I suppose you’ve heard about the trouble on the roads of late?”
“Only rumors, your grace.”
He snorted. “Rumors I have been trying to keep quiet. Someone has been waylaying my tax collectors on the north road.”
That was serious. “Collectors, your grace?” I asked, stressing the plural. “How much have they managed to take?”
The Maer gave me a stern look that let me know the impropriety of my question. “Enough. More than enough. This is the fourth I’ve had go missing. Over half of my northern taxes taken by highwaymen.” He gave me a serious look. “The Lackless lands are in the north, you know.”
“You think the Lacklesses are waylaying your collectors?”
He gave me a stunned look. “What? No, no. It’s bandits in the Eld.”
I blushed a little in embarrassment. “Have you sent out patrols, your grace?”
“Of course I’ve sent out patrols,” he snapped. “I’ve sent a dozen. They haven’t found so much as a campfire.” He paused and looked at me. “I suspect someone in my guard is in league with them.” His expression was grave.
“I assume your grace has given your collectors escorts?”
“Two apiece,” he said. “Do you know how much it costs to replace a dozen guardsmen? Armor, weapons, horses?” He sighed. “On top of it all, only part of the stolen taxes are mine, the rest belong to the king.”
I nodded an understanding. “I don’t imagine he’s very pleased.”
Alveron waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, Roderic will have his money regardless. He holds me personally responsible for his tithe. So I am forced to send the collectors around again to gather his majesty’s share a second time.”
“I don’t imagine that sits very well with most people,” I said.
“It does not.” He sat in an overstuffed chair and rubbed his face tiredly. “I’m at my wit’s end over the matter. How will it look to Meluan if I cannot keep my own roads safe?”
I took a seat as well, facing him. “What of Dagon?” I asked. “Couldn’t he find them?”
Alveron gave a short, humorless bark of a laugh. “Oh, Dagon would find them. He’d have their heads on poles inside ten days.”
“Then why not send him?” I asked, puzzled.
“Because Dagon is a man of straight lines. He would raze a dozen villages and set fire to a thousand acres of the Eld to find them.” He shook his head seriously. “Even if I thought him suited to this task, he is tracking down Caudicus at the moment. Besides, I believe there may be magic at work in the Eld, and that is outside Dagon’s ken.”
I suspected the only magic at work was half a dozen sturdy Modegan longbows. But it’s the nature of people to cry magic whenever they’re faced with something they cannot easily explain, especially in Vintas.
Alveron leaned forward in his seat. “Might I rely on your help in this?”
There was only one response to that. “Of course, your grace.”
“Do you know much woodcraft?”
“I studied under a yeoman when I was younger,” I exaggerated, guessing he was looking for someone to help devise a better defense for his collectors. “I know enough to track a man and hide myself.”
Alveron raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? You are possessed of quite the diverse education, aren’t you?”
“I’ve led an interesting life, your grace.” The bottle of wine I’d drunk made me bolder than usual, and I added. “I’ve got an idea or two you might find helpful in dealing with your bandit problem.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “Do tell.”
“I could devise some arcane protection for your men.” I made a flourish with the long fingers of my right hand, hoping it looked sufficiently mystical. I juggled numbers in my head and wondered how long it would take to create an arrowcatch using only the equipment in Caudicus’ tower.
Alveron nodded thoughtfully. “That might suffice if I was only concerned for the safety of my collectors. But this is the king’s road, a major artery of trade. I need to be rid of the bandits themselves.”
“In that case,” I said, “I would assemble a small group who know how to make their way quietly in a forest. They shouldn’t have too much difficulty locating your bandits. When they do, it should be a simple matter to send your guard out to catch them.”
“Easier yet to set an ambush and kill them, wouldn’t you say?” Alveron said slowly, as if looking to gauge my reaction.
“Or that,” I admitted. “Your grace is the arm of the law.”
“Death is the penalty for banditry. Especially on the king’s road,” Alveron said firmly. “Does that seem harsh to you?”
“Not in the least,” I said, looking him squarely in the eye. “Safe roads are the bones of civilization.”
Alveron surprised me with a sudden smile. “Your plan is the very image of my own. I have gathered a handful of mercenaries to do just as you’ve suggested. I’ve had to move secretly, as I don’t know who might be sending these bandits their warnings. But I’ve got four good men ready to leave tomorrow: a tracker, two mercenaries with some skill in the forest, and an Adem mercenary. The last did not come cheaply, either.”
I gave him a congratulatory nod. “You’ve already planned it better than I could, your grace. It hardly seems as if you need my help at all.”
“Quite the contrary,” he said. “I still need someone with a little sense to lead them.” He looked at me meaningfully. “Someone who understands magic. Someone I can trust.”
I felt a sudden sinking sensation.
Alveron got to his feet, smiling warmly. “Twice now you have served me beyond all expectations. Are you
