Chapter 25

Marris wiped his face with his hand and uttered a long sigh, then shook his head as if trying to dislodge the lingering grogginess. He had managed a bit more sleep in anticipation that his role in this sordid deal with Mandas would soon be over.

He forced himself to straighten up as he stared into the mirror in the sanitary, running his hand over his freshly-shaven face. He rubbed the corners of his eyes to rid himself of the grainy vestiges of fitful slumber. At least he could manage to look at himself; his task had become more tolerable when he convinced himself he was doing it for Amanda.

He had been told little of Mandas' plans, other than he had one more task to perform later that morning for the Lord Ambassador. Mandas had promised it would be the last. Marris knew only that it involved Amanda somehow, as it had been suggested she be ready to leave Norlan's household on a moment's notice. Thus Marris kept track of any temporary slave exchanges between Norlan and his peers; so far Amanda had been spared.

Marris stepped into the corridor, then paused and glanced behind him. Earlier, he had ventured to the kitchens for just enough sustenance to ease his grumbling stomach before preparations began for Norlan's morning meal. As then, he had the sense of being shadowed.

He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his eyes again before proceeding down the corridor. He heard what he thought was an out-of-sync echo of his own footfalls. As he turned to head down the corridor which led to the back gate of the palace, a flurry of footsteps rushed off to the side behind him.

Marris whirled around, but caught only a glimpse of a shadow retreat down a side passage. He tugged his collar and tried to ignore his pounding heart as he started down the corridor again. As he approached the washing chambers, he was grateful for the early candlemark. The chambers were quiescent; no work for them until the morning meal was over.

Yet as he passed a narrow doorway, an arm flicked out, a hand grasped his upper arm, and he was spun around before he could even try to escape.

"There yew are!" Bessa snapped.

Marris stumbled back and nearly collided with the opposite wall. Bessa stood with her hands on her hips, a cleaning rag dangling from her fingers. He glanced at it and shuddered. "Bessa, whatever this is, I don't have time for--"

Bessa shook the rag in his face, and Marris cringed. "Yew 'ave time fer this! 'ow dare yew track yer muddy feet into the kitchens jus' after I got 'em all clean!"

Marris drew himself up when he realized the rag was bone dry. "What are you talking about? I didn't--"

"Yew deny yew were skulking' 'bout the kitchens this morning?"

"Yes, I ... no, I don't. But I wasn't skulking! And--"

"Wotever yew were up to, yew left a bloody mess!"

"I did nothing of the sort."

"Foine! Yew want t' see it fer yerself?"

"No, I don't ... ow, Bessa, let go! I really don't have time for this!"

Bessa dragged him out of the corridor and past a doorway. Marris coughed as a cloud of steam blew over him, carrying the aroma of meat broth and cooked vegetables. A cacophony of clinking dishes and pots, rattling silverware, and pounding feet on hardwood almost masked the slam of the door behind them.

Marris wrenched his arm away as Bessa shut the door. "Bessa, stop it! I was not even in this part of the kitchens! And could we please go somewhere else, the noise here is--"

"Is jus' wot's needed so we're not over'eard while I tell yew wot kind o' fool yew are," Bessa declared.

Marris sighed and hung his head, covering his eyes with a hand. "Great gods, not this again."

"Yeah, this again! Yew are goin' out t' meet with 'im again, ain't yew?"

Marris' head snapped up, his eyes hard. "That is none of your business."

Bessa smirked and nodded. "When someone answers like that, it means 'yes.'"

"Stop analyzing me. Whatever I'm doing does not concern you."

"Like bloody 'ellfire it doesn't."

"I've had enough of this." Marris pushed past Bessa and headed for the door. "I have a schedule to keep."

Bessa blurted out just as the door started to open, "Norlan knows."

Marris froze. Slowly, he turned his head, his hand still gripping the knob. "What?"

Bessa shoved the door closed. "I said 'e knows, yew bloody pillock," Bessa growled. "I over'eard 'im last night. 'e knows yew and that other Ambassador are up t' something."

Marris paled and staggered back, staring at Bessa with shimmering eyes. "But he ... how can he... ?"

"I can't tell yew 'ow 'e knows, jus' that 'e knows. An' 'alno knows. An'..." Bessa hesitated.

"What? What is it?"

Bessa sighed. "'alno knows 'bout yew and ... that yew don't like girls."

Marris' eyes widened. He uttered a sigh and slumped against the wall. "No, that can't be right. He would have terminated me."

"Norlan don't want yew sacked 'cause 'e wants t' know wot this other Ambassador's up to. Yer bein' watched, Marris."

"You mean just now in the corridor, when I thought--"

"That was me. I ain't as good at it. But 'alno's got people who can do it roight. Yew leave 'ere, an' yer gonna be followed."

"I have to do this!" Marris wailed. "I already told him I would!"

"Shhh!" Bessa hissed, and stepped closer to him.

Marris recoiled. "What difference does it make if everyone knows anyway?"

"'cuz jus' maybe yew 'ave a chance t' fix this. Look, maybe I'm wrong, but I'm thinkin' if yew play along and give Lord Norlan as much information as yew can, 'e'll go easy on yew."

"What? You mean inform him what I know about Mandas' plans?"

"'xactly."

"But I don't know anything! He hasn't shared the details with me."

"Then find out! Yer goin' off t' see 'im again, ain't yew? Get 'im t' cough up what 'e's doin' and report it t' Lord Norlan."

Marris swallowed and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "Bessa, I'm horrible at that sort of acting. I don't know if I could do it without tipping him off."

"Yew gotta try," Bessa said. "Yew can get in real trouble for this, Marris, an' I don't mean yer job."

"My job is pretty much gone."

Bessa sighed and nodded. "I know. But yew don't want it t' get worse, do yew?"

Marris shivered. He had not considered the implications if he were caught or the potential reach of Mandas' plans. Now he imagined himself turned over to a tribunal and charged with treason or espionage. Marris wrapped his arms around himself and bowed his head. "Gods, what in hellfire was I thinking when I did this?" he muttered in a quavering voice.

"Stop it," Bessa snapped. "Don't do this, not now. Yew gotta try t' make this better."

Marris looked up, his eyes glistening. "I don't want to take anyone else down with me."

Bessa swallowed and let out a rattling sigh. "Foine," she said in an uncertain voice. "If yew gotta mention me, so be it."

"I don't mean you. I mean Amanda, one of the slaves."

Bessa's eyes widened. "Wot 'bout 'er?"

"I think Lord Mandas' plans involve her. If I tell Lord Norlan everything I know, I could get her into trouble."

Bessa bit her lip.

"I know, it sounds foolish to be so concerned about a slave, but she's different from the others. She--"

Bessa folded her arms and turned away. "Bloody 'ellfire," she muttered and sniffled once.

Marris tilted his head. "Are you all right?"

Bessa took a deep but quavering breath. She cleared her throat and turned around. She set her face hard, though her eyes were wet. "No one's gonna be all roight 'til yew straighten out this mess. Figures yew would drag someone else in wi' yew."

Marris frowned. "I had no part in that. Lord Mandas decided to use Amanda, not me."

"Yew 'elped 'im, damn yew!"

Marris drew back, nonplussed. He stared as Bessa wiped a tear which had trickled down her cheek. He wanted to defend himself, the words "I had no choice" rising to his lips but stopping just short of being voiced. "All right," Marris said in a miserable voice. "I'll do it. I'll try to get Lord Mandas to give me details of his plans, but I doubt he will tell me anything."

"Yew gotta try," Bessa said, wiping her eyes, her voice steadier. "At least so yew can look at yerself in the mirror in the mornings."

Marris doubted he would be able to do that for some time to come.

This time, Mandas felt uncomfortable even before he stepped into the grubby little tavern at the edge of town, as he had dressed himself in something less than his usual finery. While he doubted any of the louts who frequented such places would know what an Ambassador looked like, he did not want to take the chance anyone could later report seeing someone obviously of the upper echelons.

Nevertheless, he still looked out of place when he stepped inside, as he walked with a sneer engraved upon his face. The barkeep looked up and smirked as Mandas stepped past, shaking his head and muttering something about royals and their need for illicit pleasures (though using far cruder language).

Mandas found Marris sitting at a table in the far corner, somewhat removed from the noise and bustle. Marris flinched at the scrape of wood when Mandas pulled out a chair, the Lord Ambassador's lips curling into a smarmy smile. "I have good news for you, Marris. I daresay it is good for both of us, since it means no more meetings in this cesspit of unwashed peasantry. This is the last time we will meet."

Marris nodded and looked no less anxious.

Mandas tilted his head. "No reaction at all? No sense of relief for keeping your precious job?"

Marris forced a smile, his lips twitching. "Of course, my Lord. I-I'm grateful this is almost over," he said in a flat voice.

"I have one more task for you. You will need to charter the carriage Norlan uses for slave transport for two nights hence to deliver Amanda to the Oceanus fleet."

Marris' eyes widened. "My Lord?"

"Charter Norlan's slave transport carriage," Mandas snapped. "Surely you can hear me above the rabble."

"I heard you, my Lord. I am confused as to why you wish me to do something your own staff could do."

"Because I wish the orders to be in your name."

Marris looked alarmed. "My name? Why? I mean, I'll do this for you, my Lord, but I need to know why."

"You never demanded such explanations before, and I do not see the need for you to start."

Marris sighed and ran a hand through his already mussed hair. "Please, my Lord, you've been asking me to do things which go against my loyalty to--"

Mandas uttered a short bark of laughter. "Loyalty? Why should that matter to you? Do you think Norlan would show any towards you if he learned of your proclivities?"

Marris frowned and tensed. His mouth opened, then closed without a sound. He finally let out a windy sigh. "You will need to tell me something, my Lord, if I am to give the proper instructions to the carriage driver," Marris finally said in a defeated voice.

Mandas smirked and reached into a pocket of his cloak. "The beauty of this task, Marris, is even you cannot screw it up." He produced a scroll with a wax seal and thrust it across the table.

Marris hesitated, then took the scroll into his hand, holding it as if handling a soap bubble.

"Those are instructions to the carriage operator. His name is imprinted upon the seal. You need only to hand it to him, and he will know exactly what to do. You will also give him this." Mandas pulled out a cloth sack closed with a drawstring and tossed it before Marris. It struck the table with a distinct jingling sound. "Payment for his services."

Marris stared at the scroll. His hands trembled.

Mandas raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

Marris shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"You will perform this task immediately." Mandas leaned forward. "And just in case you get any more of these foolish 'loyalty' thoughts in your head..."

Mandas thumped the wax seal with his finger. Marris gasped and nearly dropped the scroll when he felt a tingly and slightly painful electric shock pass through his hands. Energy sparkled around the scroll for a moment.

"The seal is magic," Mandas explained. "To be broken only by the one whose name is upon it. I trust I need not tell you what can happen when you break magical seals."

Marris swallowed and shook his head again. One hand tightened around the scroll as the other snatched the sack and tucked it into his tunic.

"I expect you to complete this task before the midday meal." Mandas stood up. "This is the last time we will see each other. I cannot say it has been a pleasant association, so I will not. Good bye, Marris."

"My Lord, wait!" Marris blurted as Mandas started to walk away.

Mandas whirled around and stepped back to the table. "Why do you not go the rest of the way and shout my full name across the tavern, you man-dipping idiot," Mandas growled.

"I'm sorry, my ... I..."

"Well, what is it? Stop sniveling and come out with it."

"I just ... I just want to know ... what you intend to do with Amanda."

"What?"

"The dark-haired slave girl, the one--"

"I know, imbecile. Why do you care?"

"I don't want to see her hurt," he said in a voice barely audible above the din.

Mandas smirked. "Really, now? Such sentiment for a slave girl you won't bed?"

Marris said nothing. Anything he said would earn only more mocking reprove.

"Her part in this is of no concern to you. Now do as I have instructed, or worse things may befall you than simply losing your position."

Marris looked up with wide and glistening eyes as Mandas swept through the tavern and out the door.

Norlan held the two items in his hands as if weighing them. He finally lifted his eyes to the servant and kept his cool, stony gaze on the man for a moment before turning away.

"So now we finally have a solid lead on Mandas' plans," Lord Ardon declared as he stepped forward.

Norlan held up the scroll, turning it so the High Lord could see the seal. "Yes, and in a form neither of us can access unless we wish serious injury upon either our minds or bodies. I fear we must let the scroll be delivered as instructed."

"Are you mad?!"

"What else would you have me do, my Lord?" said Norlan, exasperation creeping into his voice. "I am as frustrated as you are, but Mandas has left little to chance. I suspect even if we somehow protect ourselves from the dire effects of breaking the seal, the scroll will likely be destroyed and eliminate it as evidence."

"But we cannot abet his plans!"

"We know to whom the scroll is to be delivered," said Norlan with forced patience. "We can contact him after he receives it."

Ardon snatched the sack from Norlan's hand and yanked the bow loose on the drawstring. He peered inside, then shook out some of the coins into his other hand. "There is at least a thousand platinum in here. This payment will all but ensure the man's silence."

"He will have the scroll."

"Which he will likely be instructed to destroy, or the parchment itself will crumble after he has read it, if Mandas is as crafty as he appears."

"Normally I would not attribute such intelligence to the man," said Norlan with a tired sigh. "But it appears I have spent far too long underestimating his resourcefulness."

"And I assume we can expect no loyalty to you from this carriage operator."

"Carriage operators are like any other independent trade guild; they perform their services for whomever is willing to pay. Likely he is not being told the true purpose of these machinations. And by having my servant deliver the orders, he makes it appear as if the orders are coming from me anyway."

"He's covering his tracks too well. There are still other High Lords who--" Ardon stopped as he glanced at Marris and frowned. "Is this really for his ears, Norlan?"

Norlan turned his head, looking at Marris as if forgetting he was still present. Norlan retrieved the sack from Ardon and marched back to the servant. He slapped the scroll into one hand and the sack into the other. "You will deliver these as you were instructed."