Dragonvein Book Four (19 page)

Twice more he tried to strike up a conversation, and both times she spurned him. With the crowd now thinning, Martok grew ever more determined. Just as the final few guests were heading off to their rooms, he caught her gathering her coat near the ballroom exit.

“You are not staying for the night?” he asked.

“Here? Never. My carriage is waiting outside.”

“But the nearest inn is more than twenty miles away, My Lady. Please allow me to provide you with accommodation.”

She let out a weary sigh. “Don't you ever give up, Lord Dragonvein?”

“Not when I have set my heart on something,” he replied, grinning boyishly.

“And do you actually
have
a heart? I thought women to you were mere trifles: playthings that can easily be cast aside.”

Martok had heard this before. Until now it had never bothered him in the slightest. “I give you my word that my intentions are entirely honorable,” he assured her. “I wish only to know who you are. Please, My Lady. Tell me your name and I will trouble you no more.”

Her laughter was both mocking and musical. “Is your memory really so bad? You already know my name. You’ve known it for years.”

Creasing his brow, he regarded her more closely. Yes...now that she had told him this, there was something vaguely familiar about her face. Placing it however, was still proving impossible. A list of possible meeting places ran through his mind and produced nothing.

She watched with undisguised amusement for almost a full minute before raising her hand. “Very well. I hate to see you so confused. My name is Goldsong.
Miriam
Goldsong.”

It took only a moment for him to put it together. Miriam...the little girl he had saved in Kytain’s garden on the day he learned he would not be returning home. The sound of her laughter made him realize that he was staring at her with slack-jawed astonishment.

“I…I didn’t recognize you. Forgive me.”

“To be fair, it has been many years, My Lord. And much has happened since we were children. But I think it is I who should be asking your pardon. I had hoped that you would figure out who I was before now. And when you didn’t, I thought I would have a little bit of fun with you.” She gave him a slight bow. “So I hope it is
you
who can forgive
me
.”

Martok snapped back into the moment. “Of course. Of course. How could I not? I have often wondered what became of you. And now...here you are.” He spread his arms and gazed at her with undisguised appreciation. “May I say how wonderfully you have grown.”

Miriam clicked her tongue. “Now, now. I was perfectly serious when I said I had no intention of succumbing to your charms. You may not have known what became of me. But I certainly have heard much about you…
and
of your exploits.”

For the first time in Martok's life, he realized that a woman was making him blush. “I assure you the stories are wildly exaggerated,” he said.

“Perhaps. And if so, you should do something to dispel such awful rumors.” She glanced around the virtually empty ballroom. “But now I must be going. I am genuinely sorry for being so brusque with you tonight. When we see each other again, I promise to be more agreeable.”

“There is no need to leave,” he said quickly, knowing that he sounded way too eager. “I have plenty of rooms available. I beg you. Stay. I swear to be on my best behavior.”

Miriam tilted her head and smiled. “I’m sure you would. But my fiancé would not be happy knowing I stayed the night in Dragonvein Manor. Exaggerated or not, you
do
have a reputation.”

The word fiancé struck him like a dagger to the heart. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She placed a hand on his cheek. “No. It is I who am sorry. I can see in your eyes how lonely you are. And I wish I could do something to ease that burden. But I must tend to the heart of the one I am to marry. And should I stay here, he would undoubtedly worry.”

Martok paused as he felt a lump forming in his throat. “And who is the luckiest mage in all Lumnia, might I ask?”

“Oh, he is no mage. I am to wed Prince Traxis of Soria.”

This news was utterly stunning. His incredulous words rushed out even before he was aware he'd spoken them. “And your mother and father are allowing this?”

Miriam frowned. “He is a good man, and I love him. I do not care who approves. I’ll also have you know that my mother thinks it to be a good match. She is not narrow minded like you and the rest of the so called
great
houses.”

Martok lowered his eyes. “Yet again, I owe you an apology. I did not mean to imply…”

He paused. Yes, he did. He disapproved. Strongly. He could not help it. A woman such as this was too good for anyone but the greatest of mages. “I wish you all the happiness there is,” he finished off lamely.

Miriam sniffed, sensing the disingenuous tone in his remark. “Good night, My Lord Dragonvein.” After giving him a rapid but polite curtsy, she strode away.

Even when moving with angry rushed steps, Martok found her graceful. How could she marry someone other than a mage? It was…disgusting. But unless he were to murder the lucky bastard, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

He took a long look around the ballroom. The servants were already cleaning and the guests had all now retired to their rooms. She was right. He was lonely.

It just wasn't until this very moment that he'd realized it.

Martok smiled down at the dwarf emissary standing before him. Sitting on his throne-like chair atop a circular dais was intended to present him as an imposing figure. The dwarf, however, appeared far from overawed. With a well-groomed beard and every finger adorned with gold rings and jewels, his wealth and status was apparent.

Not that any of these adornments impressed Martok. His vaults were already bursting at the seams with enough gold and precious stones to last many lifetimes.

“Master Kolar,” he began. “I understand your position, so I will now make mine clear. The bounty you place on the elves will end. Also, you will cease hostilities against them at once. There is nothing more to say on the matter.”

“But they are savages, My Lord,” the dwarf protested through gritted teeth. “They plague us at every turn. They attack our trading caravans, kill our people, and steal our livestock. We have tried to reason with them –”

“No, you have made threats,” Martok snapped back with enough force to silence the man. “And it is your people who have been the aggressors. You cannot march forth and demand that they vacate land they have occupied for generations and then call that reasoning.”

He paused to lean back in his chair. “Since you are incapable of coming to an agreement with the elves, I will do it
for
you. The hostilities will cease…today. Should you try to test my resolve, the outcome will not be to your liking.”

“You have no right to dictate to us –”

Martok’s hand shot up to silence him. At the same time, his eyes glowed bright red with magical energy. “Would you care for me to demonstrate what right I have, Master Kolar?” He allowed the threat to hang in the air.

Though the dwarf did not actually cower, he was clearly unnerved. “No…My Lord. I will contact my people at once and relay your message.” After giving a formal bow, he spun on his heels and hurried from the receiving hall.

Martok rubbed the bridge of his nose while watching him go. Unable to resist giving vent to his feelings, he snorted loudly. “Damn fools! They would rather have everlasting war than a life of peace and plenty for all.”

“I’m afraid you overestimated the people of Lumnia, My Lord.”

Martok looked up to see Gracio shaking his head and smiling. “I’m beginning to think you’re right,” he responded. “And please stop calling me My Lord. That is, unless you’re doing it to irritate me.”

“I would never do such a thing…My Lord.”

Martok glowered. Gradually though, a smile grew and turned to soft laughter. “I have missed your company, my friend. You must promise not to stay away for so long next time. And I think your wife would like that as well.”

Gracio nodded. “I don’t enjoy being away. But Helen’s mother has not been well. She needs help keeping things in order.” He shifted his feet. “Which brings me to a point…”

“If you are about to say that you and Helen are moving back to the Prustoni Estate, I don’t want to hear it.”

“What choice do I have? Helen will receive her inheritance next year, and I have no intention of us being separated.”

“But I need you here. I couldn’t manage without the two of you by my side.”

Gracio chuckled. “I think you are exaggerating a touch. We keep you company and help take your mind off your troubles. That's all. A wife would be able to do much the same thing. And far better than us.”

Martok let out a loud groan and rolled his eyes. “Not that again. Don’t you think I want to find someone? I’ve tried, but look at my choices. There's not a single unmarried woman within the mage houses who's worth a pig’s hair. All the good ones are already taken. So what should I do? Should I force them to divorce just so I can allay my loneliness? I could, you know. Most of their idiot husbands could be bought easily enough.”

Gracio clicked his tongue. “Poor Martok. All the wealth and power in the world, and still so unhappy. I’m sorry, my friend. There is only one Miriam, and she is already married. You must choose another.”

“Yes. Married to a man who is unable to give her what she truly deserves. It’s repellent. And I hear that their son lacks even a trace of magical talent.”

“She seems happy to me.”

“Bah! She has yet to experience happiness. Living in such mundane surroundings, how could she?”

Before Gracio could make any kind of response, a messenger arrived and handed Martok a letter. Still fuming over the thought of Miriam with a non-magical family, he ran his eyes over the page. A strange expression then appeared on his face.

“What is it?”  Gracio asked.

“She is coming here,” he replied.

“Who?”

“Miriam. She requests an audience. She says she will arrive tomorrow and it is of the utmost importance that she speaks with me.”

Martok's heart was racing. She was coming to see him. Could she have finally come to her senses? He tried not to show his excitement, but it was impossible to conceal.

He jumped to his feet. “Cancel everything I have scheduled for today. And tell the cooks to prepare a feast.” He paused. “No. Tell them to prepare a dinner for two to be served in the south garden. And hire musicians. The best you can find on short notice.”

Gracio raised a finger to protest, but Martok was already halfway across the room.

He spent the rest of the day planning out every last detail of the dinner. Gracio came by several times, doing his best to warn him not to get his hopes up and pointing out that Miriam's husband might well be accompanying her. But the letter had said nothing about that. Only that she needed to speak with him.

That night Martok warned himself that he should not be too forward or demanding. But what if her marriage was foundering? Should he not also be prepared to show her that he was the better choice? Until he knew the full reason for her visit, it was difficult to know how to plan.

It was well past midnight before he could still his mind sufficiently to fall asleep. Even then, he was wide awake more than an hour before dawn.

When she finally arrived he was completely on edge. So much so that he had her wait outside the receiving hall until he could compose himself sufficiently. After taking a seat he nodded to Gracio, who was shaking his head in disapproval.

Miriam seemed to glide rather than merely walk into the room. She was wearing a glimmering blue dress, while upon her brow rested a delicate diamond tiara. The mere sight of her had him gripping the arm of his chair. He smiled warmly in greeting, though this faded quickly as she drew near and he was able to see deep sorrow and pain etched into her face. At once, he sprang to his feet.

“What is wrong, My Lady?”

Miriam bowed her head. “I have come to beg a favor of you, My Lord Dragonvein.”

“Please. There is no need to be so formal with me.” He looked around the room, now regretting receiving her in such an opulent chamber designed purely to demonstrate his personal power and wealth. He offered his hand. “Come. Let us go somewhere more comfortable. Then you can ask of me anything you desire.”

“Thank you.” A tear spilled down her cheek as she took his hand and allowed herself to led from the room.

It had been eight years since he'd last laid eyes on her, and still her beauty was spellbinding. He ushered her into a small parlor not far from the receiving hall and poured them both a glass of wine.

“Now tell me your troubles,” he said as they sat down by a window overlooking a small courtyard.

“My husband,” she began. “He was hunting in the forest south of our home when he was set upon by a group of elves.”

“Was he hurt?”

She took a deep breath. “He was killed. His entire party was massacred.”

Martok placed a hand gently on her shoulder, trying desperately not to show any trace of his initial, not altogether unhappy reaction to this news. “I am so very sorry. What can I do?”

She looked up at him, the sorrow in her eyes suddenly replaced by fury. “You can kill them. Kill them all for me, Martok. Grant me this wish and I will do anything you want. I will give you anything I possess. Just kill them.”

He was stunned by her intensity. “Are you sure it was elves who were responsible?”

“There is no doubt. So will you do this thing for me?”

Martok sat back. This was beyond anything he could have expected. Were he to do what she was asking, it would undermine everything he had been working so hard to achieve.  “Why do you need
me
in particular to do this?” he asked.

“Because all the other mages fear what you might do should they be the ones to attack the elves. They know you have aligned yourself with them. Only you can give me justice.”

He steepled his hands beneath his chin. Of all the favors Miriam could have asked for, why did it have to be this? “You say there is no doubt that the elves were your husband's killers,” he remarked. “Tell me how you know this with such certainty?”

“There was a witness,” she came back quickly. “Just one of the hunting party managed to escape. He stated clearly how the elves came from nowhere and hacked them to pieces without any warning at all.” She slid from the chair and knelt before him. “Please. You are the only one I can turn to. Name your price and I will pay it.”

Martok leaned down and lifted her to her feet. “I will help you. But you must allow me time to investigate this first.”

Miriam jerked away. “Why? I've already told you what happened. There is no doubt.”

“And I’m sure you are right. But I have worked for a very long time to better relations between elf and human. I need to know why they did this terrible thing before I throw all that away. However, you have my word that there will be justice. In the meantime, you will remain here in the manor.”

He half expected her to indignantly reject this directive, but she simply nodded.

After summoning a servant to show her to her room, he headed to his study. Gracio joined him soon after and listened closely to the account Miriam had conveyed.

A look of deep concern formed on his friend's face. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Elves wouldn’t attack anyone without good cause. Especially now that they have you helping them to negotiate peace among the races. It doesn’t make sense.”

“That is why I’m sending you to find out what really happened.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I know what you’ll find. Or at least I think I do.”

Martok crossed to his desk, scrawled a quick note, and sealed it. “First of all, go to Golan. It’s a town just north of the palace where Miriam lives. You’ll find a fur shop there run by a man named Chaudri. Give this note to him and then follow his instructions.”

“This man. Who is he?”

“He's Urazi.”

Gracio caught his breath. “For pity's sake, why are you involving
them
? Are you planning to have someone killed?”

“Not necessarily, but the Urazi make it their business to know all the little secrets people think they keep safe. If there is a truth to be exposed, they will know where to find it.”

Though clearly uneasy, the look on Martok's face prevented Gracio from voicing his trepidations. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” he said.

“No. Leave today. As soon as you can make ready.”

“As you wish. Though I assume there is time enough for me to say goodbye to Helen before departing.”

Martok forced a smile. “Of course. Forgive me if I am being abrupt, but there is far more at stake here than you realize.”

Once his friend had hurried away, Martok settled in the chair beside the hearth and remained there for more than an hour in deep contemplation. He knew that most mages were resistant to the idea of a relationship with the elves. Even so, someone had now gone too far. Prince Traxis would never have done anything to provoke such an attack on his party. And even if he had, the elves would certainly have come to him first with their grievance before resorting to such violence.

As much as it complicated matters, that only left one possibility. This plot was far more destructive than it appeared on the surface. He would need to move very carefully indeed.

* * * * *

Miriam stayed in the manor for the next three months. Martok made frequent attempts to rouse her from her melancholy, though with only limited success. He carefully refrained from making any sort of romantic overtures, knowing that this would not be well received. The wound from losing her husband was still too fresh. Moreover, she was missing her son greatly. His offer to send for the boy was politely refused. She told him that it was best that he remains at home and in familiar surroundings. He was only four and didn’t fully understand what had happened.

Shortly into her stay, Martok had told her he'd considered matters and had dispatched people to deal with the elves responsible for murdering her husband. This seemed to satisfy her for a time. However, by the third month she was growing increasingly impatient for definite word of the justice she had come seeking.

When Gracio did eventually return, he looked absolutely exhausted. Aware of his arrival, Miriam begged to hear the news he carried. Martok resisted at first, but in the end he relented. After allowing Gracio a short time to get cleaned up and reunite with his wife, he called him to his study. He poured his friend a glass of brandy and offered him a seat. Both he and Miriam sat down directly across in anticipation.