Chapter 31

Gronnus was up with the dawn. He had not slept very much at all.

He staggered over to the window, wiping his face with his hands. He raised the blind and stared bleary-eyed back towards the Manor grounds. Above the trees, the sky was tinged a salmon-pink color as the sun neared its debut. The storm had left crystal clear skies in its wake.

He turned away from the window with a sigh. He looked over towards the wall near the door, where the crossbow lay. He recalled Herdon's instructions to him.

For a moment, he considered disobeying them. It was unlikely Herdon would string the bow himself in front of Roquan. Yet he remembered what Herdon had done with the dagger. It was thus equally unlikely the assassin needed the crossbow. This just made him more nervous about why Herdon wanted to use specifically the crossbow -- his crossbow -- as the murder weapon.

Yes, he did have an answer for that. He simply did not want to see it.

Gronnus sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. No, he could not risk it. He had to do as was planned and hope that Roquan had figured out something to do. Perhaps he already had. Perhaps the plot had already been foiled. Roquan would arrive later and tell Gronnus that there was nothing to worry about.

The Overlord crossed the room. He picked up the bow and turned the crank. In his tired condition, it was a lot more work. Nevertheless, he finished it, and set the weapon down gingerly, as if afraid of triggering it accidentally. He glanced at the bolt and shuddered.

Gronnus grabbed his satchel and put it in front of the crossbow, hiding it as much as possible, at least from casual observation.

He sat down again heavily in his chair. He looked longingly towards his brandy but decided against it. He needed his mind sharp for whatever was to happen. There would be time enough afterward to get drunk.

He had a feeling he would need it. If he were still alive.

When Jollis rose that morning, he found Sirinna in a very anxious state of mind. This alone told him what he needed to know. Whatever was to transpire that morning, Amanda was now committed to it. This is as he had wished.

He shared Sirinna's anxiety. Amanda was indeed intelligent. She was indeed clever. But she was still a girl of fourteen. She was painfully young for this sort of responsibility. Very briefly, Jollis felt hatred towards his master for having him, if indirectly, put the girl into so much danger. It passed quickly, and he closed his eyes and silently begged forgiveness for his vile thoughts.

At the same time, he knew his master would understand.

Sirinna dutifully offered herself to him when he emerged from the bedchamber. He politely refused her. It would not be right. And to be truthful, he was hoping that saving himself until Amanda was available again would somehow bestow some luck upon her endeavors.

As Jollis left Sirinna's quarters, the first rays of the morning sun played upon the highest points in the Manor. As he squinted up at it, he was tempted to observe the bluff from a concealed location and find out exactly when the matter was resolved... or was not resolved.

He decided against it. Fate would not be tempted or coerced by his actions. It was best to attend to this morning as if it were any other. There was no more he could do. It was in other's hands now.

Jollis walked away from Sirinna's quarters for what he hoped was not the last time.

Vanlo arose from his bed, rubbing at his temples in annoyance.

As with every morning nowadays, he awoke with a dull headache. It was a little better that morning. It had been a little better the morning before as well. It also seemed to clear a little faster each day.

The Healer forbade himself to make the correlation. He had made his decision to the Overlord and to the Guild. He was retired. There was no going back. His thinking had not changed. It was for the best. He was old and needed his rest now. He had to finally admit that he simply could not be as active as he once was.

Yet it did nothing for the one problem he had not considered: boredom.

Healing was his life. Even when a day went by where his services were not needed, there was always something he could find to occupy his time. In this it was an advantage that his days of sexual escapades were over. Many other Manor Healers used much if not all of their spare time indulging shamelessly in fleshy pleasures with the Overlord's slaves.

Vanlo had to fill his time in other ways, and the Manor was better for it health-wise. But now, without his Healing career, he had nothing.

After performing his morning ablutions and changing into a fresh robe, he found he could no longer resist the temptation. He left his quarters and headed for his former office.

Naturally, it had not been touched. It was exactly as he had left it. As he walked in, however, a sense of guilt came over him. What did he expect to do here? He could no longer function in his capacity as a Healer. Anything he did here would come to naught. It was likely that the new Healer would want to change everything around. He frowned at this. For him, everything was arranged perfectly. He could not imagine any other arrangement.

He wandered into the treatment room. Above him, the milky skylights glowed reddish-pink from the touch of the first rays of sunrise, casting everything in the room into a vision of soft pastels.

Vanlo looked around longingly, as if expecting to see patients lined up for him. His shoulders slumped. He turned and started back towards the inner chamber.

Just as he was about to leave, something caught his attention on the counter.

It was a very tiny black spot, well over in one corner. He might not have noticed it, save for the way the morning light diffusing through the skylights made it easier to spot.

Vanlo, who was neat to a fault, moved to brush the offending bit of dirt from the counter. Just as his hand came down, he caught a faint sparkle and stopped.

The Healer paused. He crouched and took a closer look at the spot. The detritus appeared granular. He picked up the tiny grains in his fingers and let them fall again. There was a faint, familiar odor.

Vanlo straightened, his brow furrowed. No. That made no sense whatsoever. None. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued enough to investigate.

He opened up one of the drawers and drew out the small cloth pouch that contained the Jonalla. He opened it and peered inside. He stood there for a long moment and finally lowered the pouch.

If he had more trust in his mental faculties at that moment, he would think that there was less Jonalla in here than he remembered.

However, he did not trust his mental faculties at that moment. Yet his mind refused to let go of the idea. Jonalla was not to be trifled with. It cannot be used willy-nilly in any potion or preparation without a specific purpose and without being carefully measured and weighed against the other ingredients.

Vanlo closed the pouch and put it back. He again paused for a long moment.

"So I cannot perform my healing duties," he said with a thoughtful stroke of his beard. "Perhaps I shall occupy my time with a full inventory of the healing supplies. Surely my successor will wish to know what he has available to him, no?"

Vanlo turned and proceeded into the inner chamber to fetch a parchment and a quill.

Golden rays of morning light began to play along the path as Roquan walked from his quarters towards the bluff. He kept his gait slow and sure, maintaining an air of confidence and propriety around him.

Remarkably, he maintained an inner sense of calm as well. He was treating this as any other large decision he had made in the past concerning his Manor or his slaves. There was no use in fretting over it. Once the decision was made, his energies were better spent in carrying it out.

Was he afraid? Yes. Roquan was no fool. Only fools do not fear. What would have made him a fool at this point was to openly display that fear.

No one attempted to intercept him as he walked into the bluff area. He spotted Doran and Rennis near the gazebo and nodded a simple greeting to them. There was nothing they could do at this point anyway, even if this were just an ordinary Point of Order debate.

He turned away from the gazebo. Unknown to him, Rennis continued to watch him. Thus when he saw Roquan suddenly turn from the path and stop before Freya's quarters, he frowned. He nudged Doran and pointed this out to him as well.

Roquan knocked crisply on the door frame. In short order, Freya opened the door, giving him a sultry smile as she stood in her robe. It was left wide open, displaying her nude body beneath.

"Yes?" she asked in a sexy voice.

"I wish to borrow Amanda."

"Oh? Do you now?"

"Yes. You will grant this request."

Freya smirked. She leaned against the door frame and thrust one leg out, tilting her hips seductively. "Will I?"

"I will not spar with you over this. I am the Overlord of this Manor. I can invoke special privilege if I need to, and I will if you force me."

"Ooo! Special privilege! Is that just a nice way of saying you wish to share a bed with me again?"

Roquan took a deep breath and let it go, trying not to bristle. "Do not play games with me, Freya, this is too important."

Freya considered for a long moment, studying Roquan's face. "Hmm... yes, I suppose it is," she said in a more subdued voice. She lifted her hand. A chain clinked softly as Amanda came up from behind her, already cuffed. "Take her, then."

Roquan could not disguise the surprise in his face. He hesitated a moment before taking the end of the chain. He recovered, and looked at Freya. "You know."

Freya nodded once. "Whatever you have planned, try not to screw it up. I don't fancy having the burden of bidding on your slaves if you depart this world."

"Far be it for me to inconvenience you, Freya," Roquan said, though there was not as hard an edge to it as there might have been. He gave the chain a soft snap. "Come along, Amanda."

"Yes, master," Amanda said, her voice a combination of eagerness and anxiety.

"Oh, and Roquan?" Freya said before he could turn away. "Make sure you understand. This is for the morning, for whatever you need to do. She is still mine. I still intend to take her with me when I leave. Nothing excuses you from that deal."

Amanda looked to Roquan. The Overlord said nothing for a moment. Then, finally, in a slightly acid voice, "Perfectly understood, Freya. I would wish you away from the Manor if for no other reason than so I do not have to witness your treatment of this girl."

Freya's eyes widened in indignation. She slammed the door in Roquan's face.

"Master?"

Roquan glanced to Amanda. "Yes?"

"Will I still have to go with her?"

A pause. "I dearly hope not," he said simply. He snapped the chain again. "Come."

"What in hellfire does Roquan think he's doing?" Doran exclaimed as he watched Roquan lead Amanda away from Freya's quarters. He looked over to Rennis.

Rennis was shaking his head. "I have no idea. Just like I have no idea why Freya gave her to him."

Doran snorted. "Does he seriously think Gronnus will be swayed by a sharing a bed with that slave?"

Rennis frowned. "I doubt that's the case here."

"Then just what is going on? Bah! Every time I think we have everything settled, Roquan turns around and does something odd!"

"It's unlikely odd in his mind."

Doran just threw up his hands and turned away. "I simply give up! The rest of this Conclave will go as it wills. I can do nothing more."

Rennis looked back down and watched Roquan and Amanda enter Gronnus' quarters. He had the distinct feeling that control over these proceedings had slipped away from them some time ago. Yet he also wished he knew what Roquan was up to.

Was Doran right after all? Was Gronnus planning something, something into which Roquan had gleaned some insight? Now he wished this had not been such an early morning meeting. He wished he had had a chance to talk to Roquan first.

Rennis was about to turn away when he thought better of it and remained where he was. He leaned on the railing that circled the perimeter of the meeting area and waited, glancing down at Gronnus' quarters now and then.

If something were indeed being planned, this meeting would be short. He figured he did not have long to wait.

The moment the door was opened, Amanda was suddenly struck blind by bright morning sunlight and came to a stop. Roquan bumped into her, similarly affected. "Gronnus, if you would..." she heard him say.

"What? Oh, sorry..."

Amanda closed her eyes tightly until her eyelids no longer glowed from the blinding glare. When she opened her eyes, she could see nothing but a large purple spot before her. She blinked a few times as shapes slowly began to resolve themselves again in her field of vision.

They began to recover in time to see Overlord Gronnus step away from the window where he had just lowered the blind.

"I keep forgetting that," he said nervously.

Roquan also needed to pause a moment before he could proceed. He gave Amanda a gentle nudge on her shoulder to move her ahead a few paces so he could close the door behind him.

"Well?" Gronnus said anxiously.

"Well what, Gronnus?" Roquan said in irritation.

"Did you stop him? Did you stop this madness from happening?"

"I have been unable to do anything as yet."

Gronnus' eyes widened, giving Roquan a stricken look, but he said nothing in response.

"Your collaborator made it very difficult to do anything," Roquan said icily.

"My... what??"

Roquan stepped out from behind Amanda and approached Gronnus. Gronnus swallowed and backed up a step, nearly stumbling when he bumped into the chair. "Do not deny this," Roquan said in a deadly voice, his eyes piercing. "How else would you have created the perfect setup for this unless it was planned? How else would you know the details of the plot?"