Cloak of spears, p.5
Cloak of Spears, page 5
What the hell was he doing here? As far as the Inquisition knew, Telomar was not affiliated with either of the main factions of the Elven nobility, and he had no links with Singularity or other unsavory groups like Dark Ones cults.
“You’re gonna challenge me again?” I said.
“Yes,” said Telomar. “Marshal MacCormac, I find you unworthy of your position and office. To prove this, I challenge you to a duel.”
Silence stretched between us. I saw the fear in his aura increase again.
“The gauntlet,” I said.
“Sorry?” said Telomar.
“You forgot the gauntlet.” I pointed at his right hand, which was currently holding the reins of his horse. “You’re supposed to drop it.”
One of the other Elven nobles – I couldn’t see which one – snickered.
“Oh.” Telomar fumbled with the gauntlet, managed to get it off his hand, and dropped it with a clang.
“Fine,” I said. “I accept your challenge. This way, please, Lord Baron.”
We dueled before the motor pool again in a chalk circle drawn by Terynda. I’ll say this for Telomar, he was smart enough to adapt his tactics. This time he cast a Shield spell against ice and threw a fireball at me. I deflected the fireball with my own Shield and then hit him with a blast of telekinetic force. That threw him to the ground, and the telekinetic push shoved him out of the circle and to a forfeit.
The second duel was over faster than the first one.
Jake and an honor guard escorted the Baron out, and that was that.
Telomar was back the week after that.
He did a better job the third time. The Baron rushed at me, and he adapted his Shield spell on the fly, first blocking my fire sphere and then my ice lance. That was when I stopped messing around, and my lightning globe overpowered his Shield, stunned him, and I used a burst of telekinesis to push him out of the circle.
I was running out of patience.
Still didn’t kill him, though.
It didn’t make any sense. Why did he keep doing this? Telomar had to know by now that I could have killed him at any point during the duels.
Why risk his life for no apparent gain?
I needed to figure out what was going on.
First, another distraction demanded my attention.
“The President of the United States is coming here?” I said.
It was the second week of March. As always, spring months in the Midwest can vary between mild and below freezing. At the moment, it was currently in the low forties Fahrenheit and drizzling.
I knew that firsthand because I had just beaten Baron Telomar in our fourth duel. It had gone about as well as the first three. I knew he had been back to Florida three times in the last month, but he kept coming back to the Great Gate to challenge me. I had beaten him all four times.
Either he really enjoyed losing to me over and over, or something else was going on.
“That is correct,” said Terynda. She, Riordan, Byrd, Nash, and a few other officers had gathered in my office. “I received the official message from the Presidential office this morning. President Noah Jackman will be in Wisconsin in the last week of March, and he would like to visit the Great Gate on the morning of March 29th.”
I let out a breath. “Why the hell does he want to come here?”
Byrd shrugged. “Same reason politicians ever do anything. Drum up votes, look good for the cameras.”
“Besides,” said Riordan. “A significant part of the US economy is now tied to businesses operating through the Great Gate. Your brother keeps adding warehouses to Moran Imports. It makes sense that the President would want to visit.”
“And, more importantly, get pictures of him visiting,” said Byrd.
“Since you’re the only one here who has actually run for elective office,” I said, “I assume you know what you’re talking about.”
Byrd grinned beneath his blond mustache. “Running for county sheriff is a bit different than running for President.”
I sighed, tapped a few keys on my computer, and sent a video clip to the big screen I had installed on my wall last month.
Before becoming Marshal, I had never really paid that much attention to politics. The High Queen and the Elven nobles were the ones who were really in charge, and that was that. What did it matter who was the President or governor or mayor or whatever?
Except it didn’t actually work that way.
I knew firsthand that Tarlia was not as all-knowing and all-powerful as the official news stories would have you believe. Granted, she was devilishly clever and a powerful archmage, but even she could be blindsided. The Elven nobles ranged in competence from men like Duke Carothrace and Duke Tamirlas, nobles who soberly and diligently went about their duties, and others who were absolute imbeciles. For that matter, a lot of their time went to preparing and maintaining their men-at-arms and to politicking with the other nobles for status.
Like duels, for instance.
Anyway, somebody had to run all the stuff the Elven nobles didn’t have time to manage, and that was where human politicians came in. Some of them could get quite powerful. Arnold Brauner, the former governor of Wisconsin and Duke Tamirlas’s shadow councilor, had almost as much influence and power as an Elven noble himself. (Incidentally, he had been to tour the Great Gate complex twice and had somehow gotten a deal with Consul Harmathyr to sell cheese curds from Brauner Farms in Castaris.)
Brauner was a crook, but he was as close to an honest crook as you can get, which is maybe the best you can hope for in a politician. Some of them were a lot worse. The former governor of California was a guy named Jason Westridge, and he had been into some nasty stuff. Specifically, he had been taking the underage daughters of guest workers as forced prostitutes, passed them around to his political allies as party favors, and recorded the encounters for use as blackmail material. Right before that big mess last year in Red River, apparently Westridge had fried his brain on illegal stimulants and hanged himself off his hotel balcony, and the California State Police had gotten hold of his blackmail files.
Something like half the California state legislature had been executed on Punishment Day videos in the months since.
The wall monitor came to life, and we looked at the inauguration of President Noah Jackman back in January of Conquest Year 317. Jackman stood surrounded by his family. Specifically, all four of his ex-wives (one white, one black, one east Asian, and one Hispanic), and the nineteen children that he had fathered with the ex-wives and the various mistresses that had broken up some of the marriages. Jackman stood with his hand on the Chief Justice’s Bible, his other hand raised. He was a big, fit guy with broad shoulders and an enormous chest, his dark-skinned head was shaved bald, a beard trimmed to razor precision framing his lips and chin. He looked like a guy who would play an elite commando in a movie.
Which, to be fair, he had. Several times.
He also liked to go around in public with two shoulder holsters, each one holding an enormous chrome-plated .50 semiautomatic pistol.
“How did a guy who has been in a bunch of movies,” I said, “become President?”
“I don’t know, Marshal,” said Byrd. “They were good movies.”
“He had a distinguished term of service in the Wizard’s Legion before he decided to become an actor,” said Riordan, who generally knew more about this kind of thing than I did.
“Apparently,” said Terynda, “he is on good terms with all four of his ex-wives.” Her eyes glittered when she said it. The woman loved gossip. “His ex-wives take turns serving as First Lady, depending on the occasion.”
I looked at the four former brides of President Jackman on the screen. They were models or actresses, and all of them were strikingly attractive. And all four women were beaming at Jackman as he took the oath of office. Either they were great actresses, or they actually were on good terms with their former husband.
“And they haven’t killed each other yet?” I said.
“I expect it would have made the news if they had,” said Riordan.
I tapped a key, and another video came up. It showed a high-end gym – a lot of free weights, treadmills, and ellipticals. Jackman stood before the camera, wearing black shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with the Presidential seal. From what I understood, Jackman hadn’t done all that much as President. He was in front of cameras a lot and made speeches, but that was it. He did, however, put out a weekly video emphasizing the importance of physical fitness.
Sometimes two a week.
I sped through the video as Jackman did his workout. He could bench press three hundred and ninety-five pounds, which wasn’t all that bad for a guy who had just turned forty-eight.
“All right,” I said. “He’s a head of state, so I assume I’ll have to meet with him?”
“That would be best, Marshal,” said Terynda.
I looked between her and Byrd. “You’ll be able to handle the security setup? He’ll have his own security with him, the…um…”
“Presidential Guard,” supplied Riordan.
“Yeah, those guys,” I said.
“I will coordinate with the President’s office,” said Terynda.
“I’ll give the head of the Presidential Guard a call,” said Byrd. “We’ll work it out.”
“Good,” I said. “Thanks. Meanwhile, there’s a problem I’ve got to solve myself.”
That night I let myself into a hotel room.
The Prestige Hotel in downtown Milwaukee was the nicest hotel in the city. It was the kind of place that heads of state stayed when visiting. I supposed President Jackman would wind up staying here. Elven nobles frequently visited the hotel, claiming the biggest and most luxurious rooms on the top floor.
Of course, thanks to various shell corporations, Tarlia was the ultimate owner of the Prestige Hotel, and when she’d had it constructed, the builders included secret passages. Back when I had been the High Queen’s shadow agent, I had frequently spied on the nobles staying at the hotel, copying the contents of their laptops. I suppose I had contributed quite a bit of information to ELSE.
Tonight, though, I didn’t need to bother with secret passages.
Telomar, Baron of Port St. Lucie, wasn’t rich enough to afford the nicer rooms.
A simple spell of telekinesis undid the lock, and I let myself into his room. Most of the lights were off, save for a gentle glow coming from the lamp on the nightstand. The room wasn’t nearly as luxurious as the suites on the top floor, but it was still nice – two queen-sized beds, wooden furniture, and a sitting area before the balcony door that faced the lake.
I took a quick prowl through the room, checking for cameras or alarms. I was wearing steel-toed boots, black jeans, my black pea coat, and black leather gloves, my hair tied back and bound with a hair net, which I concealed beneath a black ball cap. I didn’t think this would end in violence, but just in case, I didn’t want to leave behind any fingerprints or hair strands.
No alarms and no traps, whether electronic, mechanical, or magical.
A trusting soul, wasn’t he?
I turned one of the chairs in the sitting area to face the door, sat down, and cast the Cloak spell, turning myself invisible. If I remained motionless while Cloaked, I could maintain the spell for a long time, and I settled in to wait.
But it wasn’t a long vigil. Telomar had been eating dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, and I had waited until his meal had finished before heading upstairs. Five minutes after I sat down, the lock beeped, and Telomar stepped inside. He wore a long green coat with golden trim, black trousers, and polished black boots, a sword in a scabbard at his waist. I never thought he looked all that impressive in armor, and in the normal clothes of an Elven noble, he looked even less charismatic. Telomar spoke with two other Elven men – probably his sworn knights – then bade them good night and closed the door.
He looked over the room, sighed, sat down on the bed, and pulled off his boots.
I waited until he looked up to drop the spell.
“Hello, my lord Baron,” I said. “We need to talk.”
Telomar gaped at me.
I’ve heard it said that the human body responds to stress with fight, flight, or freezing. That must be true for Elves as well because Telomar went through all three in the space of about five seconds. He froze, and then his purple eyes flicked to the door, and then he started fumbling for his sword and trying to cast a spell.
“There’s no need for violence,” I said. “I’m here to talk. Because we gotta talk, my lord Baron.”
Telomar managed to find his voice. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“No.” I could feel the magic he was holding for a spell, but he couldn’t cast it in time to stop me. “I shouldn’t. But you shouldn’t be riding up to Fort Casey every week to fight duels.”
Telomar let out a breath but didn’t say anything. There was a lot of fear in his emotional aura and a good deal of tension. The fear was understandable.
But I didn’t think the tension had anything to do with me.
“Because if you keep showing up to duel me, eventually I’m going to have to kill you,” I said. “I’m not here to tell you lies. We both know that you’re not going to beat me in a duel. I don’t want anyone to get hurt or killed.”
“You helped Lord Morvilind kill twenty million Archons,” said Telomar, voice quiet.
“Well, they were assholes,” I said. “Is that what this is about? I killed one of your friends or relatives?”
“No,” said Telomar. “I didn’t have any relatives who were Archons, thank God for that. I’ve never even been to Kalvarion. My father used to talk about our homeworld all the time before he died, but…” He shrugged. “I was born here. Earth is my home.”
“Okay,” I said. “So why are you doing this?”
“It is a sensitive matter,” said Telomar.
I leaned closer. The fear in his aura intensified, but Telomar did not flinch.
“You’re afraid of me,” I said.
Telomar drew himself up. “Certainly not. I am a noble and knight of the Elven nobility. We fear nothing.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I meant that as a compliment. I can see your emotional aura, my lord. I know you’re absolutely terrified of me. Yet four times – four times!” I held out four fingers to emphasize the point. “Four times you made yourself fight me, even knowing I could kill you any time I felt like it. Why?”
“Perhaps I think you are unfit to be Marshal of the Great Gate,” said Telomar.
“You don’t give a shit about that,” I said. “You just told me you’ve never been to Kalvarion. Most of the Elven nobles have visited by now, but you haven’t.”
“I suppose not,” said Telomar.
“Then tell me,” I said. “Why do you keep challenging me to duels? Something must be making you do it. What is it? Maybe we can fix it.”
Perhaps it seems out of character that I was trying to reason with him. I could have killed him, I know. But maybe he wasn’t doing this voluntarily. Maybe he was being coerced.
Tarlia had told me the price of power was responsibility.
And if I wanted to live with myself, if I wanted to be able to sleep at night, I had to pay that price.
And pay, and pay, and pay.
I saw the shift in Telomar’s emotional aura before he spoke.
“I need the prestige,” he said.
“Please explain,” I said.
“You know that I am a vassal of Duke Curantar of Miami,” said Telomar. I nodded, hoping that my expression was encouraging. “His lordship the Duke is neutral in the conflict between the High Queen and Vashtyr of Venice. Curantar does not think we should abandon Earth, but neither does he think we should lose our ancient estates on Kalvarion.” They had already lost those estates to the Archons, but I didn’t mention that. I wanted Telomar to keep talking. “His lordship has a daughter. Lady Valtyra. She is…most gracious and fair.”
Oh.
This was about a girl.
“There is…some controversy surrounding her,” said Telomar. “Duke Vashtyr attempted to seduce her as his mistress, and she rebuffed him. In retribution, Vashtyr spread the rumor that she tried to lure him into bed, and that she has had many lovers.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Vashtyr,” I said. “I saved his life, and he still called me a brood mare.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Keep going.”
“I wish to wed Lady Valtyra,” said Telomar. “But her father the Duke is a cautious man, and concerned for his daughter after the scandal with Vashtyr.”
“You’re a Baron and one of his vassals,” I said. “That should be good enough, right? I mean, she could do a lot worse.”
“I need greater renown and prestige,” said Telomar. “The sort of prestige that can only be won in battle or by other deeds of daring.” He shrugged. “Your appointment as Marshal of the Great Gate has inspired some…controversy among the nobles, to say the least. So, I thought I could raise my stature by challenging you to a duel.”
I stared at him.
“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’ve challenged me to a duel four times and lost four times all because you want to get laid?”
Telomar drew himself up. “Certainly not. I wish to wed Lady Valtyra, for she is fair and noble, and not to engage in some crude dalliance of…”
“Okay, okay,” I said, raising a hand. “I retract my previous statement. I’m sure she rides around on a unicorn and hands out presents to small children. You want to marry Lady Valtyra.” I frowned as something occurred to me. “How did you know that I wouldn’t just kill you? I would have been within my rights.”
“I…it occurred to me, yes,” said Telomar. “I just hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Come on,” I said. “You must have had a better strategy than hope.”
“Well.” Telomar shifted. “You have a…reputation.” There was an understatement. “But I did some research. I saw that video of you in New York, the day the Rebels almost used a nuclear weapon in the city. You threw yourself in after it. I thought that wasn’t the action of a woman who would kill someone out of hand. And both Duke Tamirlas and Duke Carothrace supported your appointment as Marshal. They are reasonable, rational men.”
