warrior I fought in combat that day was someone known to me. That is why I survived at Fulksburg,” Wilmot said in hard tones.
“Who could you possibly have known among the Outlander warriors?” Gaius Prospero demanded in a suspicious voice. “How could an ordinary mercenary know someone with that kind of authority? Give me his name!”
“It was the wife of the army’s general who spared me, my lord,” Wilmot replied. He was frankly enjoying having this man who would be emperor squeeze the information from him bit by bit. His conversation with Lara had opened his eyes to things he had been avoiding for several years now.
“You fought with a woman? And lost?” Gaius Prospero’s tone was derisive.
“The wife of Lord Vartan is a great warrior, my lord. There were enough woman warriors among the Outlanders to be noticed. They are fiercer than their men, who are the best fighters I have ever encountered,” Wilmot said.
“And how came you to know the wife of this lord?” the Master of the Merchants asked. “Was she one of those used as a Pleasure Woman by our forces?”
“Nay, my lord.” Wilmot forced his face to remain impassive.
“Then who was she?” Gaius Prospero almost shouted.
“She is Lara, daughter of Sir John Swiftsword, my lord,” Wilmot said. “Her family lived next to mine when she was growing up. Recognizing me, she spared me for my mother’s sake. My mother and her grandmother were good friends, and my mother was always kind to the family.” He was curious to see what Gaius Prospero would say now. He waited.
“What?” The look on Gaius Prospero’s face was a study in amazement. “You are mistaken. You must be! My cousin the Taubyl Trader sold her to the Head Forester for a Pleasure Woman. Though they do not as a rule cohabit with those not of their blood, he was so taken with her beauty he could not resist, my cousin said. The Forester paid a fortune for her.”
“She escaped the Forest Lords,” Wilmot said, “with the aid of a Forest giant. They fled to the Desert, and from there Lara went to the Outlands where Lord Vartan saw her, and wed her. She is greatly respected among the Outlanders.”
“And she is a great warrior? How did such an exquisite creature meant only for pleasure and passion become a warrior?” Gaius Prospero wondered aloud.
“The Shadow Princes gave her the skills, along with a sword that sings as she fights,” Wilmot told him. “She is a power now to be reckoned with, my lord.”
The Master of the Merchants considered a moment, and then he said, “The High Council must be convened at once to decide upon the disposal of these bodies. Take your carts to the edge of the City, and wait for our instructions.” Then turning away from Wilmot and his companions, Gaius Prospero hurried back into the safety of the Golden District. A waiting cart took him back to his home. Entering it, he called for his secretary, Jonah, and told him of the conversation he had just had.
“You must not allow this fellow to speak with the High Council, my lord,” Jonah said. “There are those among them who did not approve this little expedition into the Outlands. These carts of dead will become a platform for them to use against you. You must take the advantage while you can.”
“But how?” Gaius Prospero said.
“By publicly disseminating the fact that our good men are dead. Slaughtered by a barbarian force who grow stronger each day, and may soon be bold enough to attack Hetar itself, threatening the very foundations of our world. We will shout down anyone who attempts to declare it is our fault for invading the Outlands in the first place. Soon the real truth will be forgotten, and with time and repetition the tale we choose will become the real truth. We will rouse the people against the Outlands, and those who have stood against us in the High Council will be silenced. They will have to join us in our fight, or be declared traitors to Hetar.” Jonah smiled a cold smile.
“There is much acreage in the Outlands for the taking,” Gaius Prospero considered slowly. “And their mines have brought us incredible wealth in these last few months. I am sorry to lose them, even temporarily.”
“And the Outlanders are strong, my lord. You can build your own private army with some by allowing them to retain their own properties within their villages. The rest of them will fill the slave markets of Hetar, making labor cheaper, and our profits greater.” Jonah chuckled. The more powerful Gaius Prospero became, the more powerful he became. The richer his master became, the richer he was. He had already purchased his own freedom from the Master of the Merchants while agreeing to remain with him. If the impossible dream could be gained, and Gaius Prospero became Hetar’s emperor, Jonah knew he could convince his master to make him his prime minister. And he would gain a lordship. He had already chosen a motto for himself: Make Haste Slowly. He forced the smile back from his lips. “What of Lara?” he asked. “Would she not make you a magnificent empress, my lord?” Jonah did not like the lady Vilia, whose eye was too sharp. The lady Vilia was far more intelligent than her husband, and could not be manipulated as could Gaius Prospero. She would have to be put aside when their plans came to fruition.
The Master of the Merchants’ eyes glowed. “You know how difficult it was for me to let her go, don’t you, Jonah? You are the only one who knows that. How very much I wanted her. I watched her in the bath through my peephole as Tania bathed her. Had her virginity combined with her beauty not made her such a valuable commodity, I should have taken her before I sold her. If her exquisite faerie beauty has not been destroyed she will make me a perfect empress when the time comes.”
“Women like that but grow better with each passing day, my lord,” Jonah soothed his master, encouraging the fantasy. But he wondered about the truth of her warrior’s skills. If it were true, would she not prove a dangerous opponent? Lara, in their brief acquaintance, had showed him an intelligence rarely found in women. If it were now combined with faerie magic, she could prove deadly. But let Gaius Prospero have his dream. There were other beautiful women with whom to tempt the Master of the Merchants when the right moment came. First things first, and the first thing was to deflect the blame for the loss of the mercenary force sent into the Outlands.
But Jonah was not quite as quick as he should have been with his scheming. Wilmot had driven his cart through the City, his companions behind him, until they had passed back through the main gates, and parked their vehicles. Wilmot jumped down from the bench on his wagon. His posterior was numb with soreness. He did not know the men who had traveled with him. They were new to the mercenaries, but he suspected if he gave an order they would obey it. They looked tired and dispirited, easily manipulated.
“Remain here,” he said. “I must go quickly to the Quarter and reassure my old mother that I am safe,” he told them. They nodded. Two of them were already falling asleep upon their wagons, their heads nodding in weariness.
Hurrying back through the main City gates Wilmot made his way to the small Council Quarter. Like all the other exclusive quarters it was gated and guarded. Wilmot sighed. He knew his appearance would count against him with the guards, but then he recognized one of the men at the entry, an elderly mercenary no longer fit for serious fighting who had managed to obtain duty as a guardsmen. Walking up to him, he greeted the old man.
“Sim! It is Wilmot. I have just returned from the Outlands.”
“I recognize you,” Sim responded, and the two men shook hands. “I heard it ended badly. Well, it would have, wouldn’t it?”
“Aye, it ended worse than badly,” Wilmot said. “Listen, I must see one of the council. A Shadow Prince, or a Coastal King. It makes no difference, but I have a message for them from the Outlands and there are some who would stop me.”
“Is this treason?” Sim said low. “I’ll have no part of treason, Wilmot.”
“It isn’t treason, I swear it!” Wilmot said. “The Shadow Princes and the Coastal Kings voted against the incursion last year. Gaius Prospero was council head then, and his vote tipped the balance that led to the troubles. Every man but the six of us saved to drive the death carts died because of the greed some of our leaders encouraged, Sim. My message comes to those who advised peace from those who would have the ancient treaties restored. If that is treason I will fall on my own sword for wanting it.”
“Prince Lothair is in right now,” Sim said softly. “His apartment is in the rear of the building on the top floor overlooking the gardens. Go!” And the old guardsman deliberately turned his head away so that he did not see Wilmot enter the residence where the council members lived.
The mercenary was very nervous, more so even than prior to battle. He had never seen a Shadow Prince before, let alone met one. He climbed the stairs to the top of the building, and knocked upon the door. It opened immediately, and he was ushered into Prince Lothair’s presence by a rather ordinary-looking manservant. Wilmot bowed most politely to the prince, who was garbed in shimmering dark silk robes.
