Concerns

Lord Folen had been extremely helpful in aiding Cerik’s efforts to bring the kingdom in order. Even so, after two months, Cerik had hoped to have more to show for it, but at least the soldiers were more content, and there was no immediate threat of famine. The crops had been brought in without incident, those that had not been trampled in Malav’s march.

The nearer fields in Arilel had been abandoned and Cerik had sent men to harvest them as well. The men had also brought back livestock that was left in the fields and plundered the abandoned homes they found but if there were no relations to be warmed it could be forgiven. But the swaths of abandoned land concerned Cerik more than Malav seemed to think that they should. The King refused to send out emissaries to make inquiries.

Cerik sighed and rubbed his face looking over his missives. The hands that gently squeezed his shoulders startled him from his thoughts. Falinyil, Lord Folen’s daughter was light on her feet and put in his path often by her father. “Falinyil, my dear you are as quiet as a thief.” He smiled at her and was rewarded with her silvery laugh.

“Lord Cerik, only you think of that as a compliment.” Cerik found her bewitching. Her dark eyes and flawless golden skin were a temptation unlike any he had felt in a very long time. “My father wishes to speak with you in his private chamber, if you’re willing.”

Nodding as he rose, “How is your son, Garred?”

“Well, my lord.” She smiled warmly every time he asked after the boy, “More like his father with every passing day. I wish he could have lived to see him grow.”

Stroking her hand as it rested on his arm, Cerik spoke quietly, “For your son’s sake I wish that as well, Lord Gorred was a good man and would have been a fine father. But for mine,” He glanced at her to judge her reaction, “I am glad that he did not.” She frowned. “His wife is the most beautiful lady I have seen and I would be robbed of her company if he lived.”

Her cheeks flushed and she gave him a faint smile. “You are a shameless flatterer, Lord Cerik.”

“I speak the truth.” He smiled as her flush deepened and her smile grew.

Cerik was still smiling when he entered Lord Folen’s private chamber. The lord took in his expression and inquired with a knowing smile, “My Falinyil?”

“You’re well aware of my fondness for her, that is why you send her to fetch me is it not?” Cerik knew the trick, it had been used on Malav more than once.

Lord Folen barked a laugh. “A widow with a young child needs a bit of help. If she hadn’t been a second wife and an heir already in place you would have a great deal more competition.”

“I don’t doubt it. But that she has a child is, for me, ideal.” He smiled at the confused look on Folen’s face. “If, and it may be possible, I cannot create my own heir,” Cerik spoke in a measured tone, “she brings one with her.”

The glint in Lord Folen’s eye told him that even if Malav took a year with his next campaign he would find Falinyil waiting for him when he returned. Suggesting the man’s grandchild could be made a legitimate heir to land and title would cement his loyalty and support, and not merely for the courtship.

“As much as I enjoy speaking of your beautiful daughter, I think that may not be why you have invited me here.”

“Astute, as always, Lord Cerik.” Lord Folen frowned. “King Malav’s plans for his campaign have begun to become topics of conversation in certain quarters.” The man looked at Cerik carefully, depending on where he went with this conversation it could be unhealthy.

“I have not yet been privy to his Majesty’s plans. He wished me to serve him in a more... domestic capacity.”

Folen nodded and Cerik could see him choosing his words with care, and Cerik hoped prudence. “His plans may have domestic ramifications. He intends to build a new dead army by visiting any occupied holds he can find, the closer the better.”

He put a hand over his face. Gods. Malav would empty the lands of Arilel, it explained why he didn’t wish to spend time and money on inquiries and trying to establish peaceful relations. Cerik sighed and pulled his hand away, “I will make inquiries. Alaimel might be a better choice but it would take precious time to go there and shake them from their trees. Convenience may of necessity win out.”

“Dragon’s fire would clear the trees,” Folen suggested helpfully.

“And burn the bodies beyond usefulness.” Cerik shook his head. “There may be no way to salvage relations, try to prepare for it.” He advised grimly. “And as a friend, I would suggest you be discreet when visiting these, certain quarters.”

Folen smiled wryly and inclined his head. “As a friend, I value your advice.”

Once he had extricated himself Cerik went to find Malav. It was past time for the King to begin involving him in the planning for the campaign, and Folen’s news would explain why he had postponed it. Outside of Malav’s rooms, Cerik nearly ran into his replacement, Ivran. The young man was in a panic.

“Lord Cerik! Thank the gods!” Ivran hissed. “He’s in a mood and unsatisfied with everything tonight.”

Not an ideal time, Cerik winced. “Have you brought him the Luzor blackthorn wine he favors and offered to have a hot bath drawn? Some of the prettier maids to wash him and rub the stress out of his shoulders and feet goes a long way to improving some of his fouler moods. His wife’s affection was the only other thing that worked to soothe him.”

“I’m certain I can find at least one lady in the court willing to soothe him.” Ivran looked speculative.

“You misunderstand.” Cerik took a sharp tone. “Only his wife.” Ivran blinked. Cerik frowned and gave the young man a cold look. “Fetch the wine and have the bath drawn. If I find you trying to encourage other women into his bed I will personally have you flogged.”

The man looked terrified and bowed deeply before scurrying off. Cerik sighed and knocked on the door before realizing the King would not be answering the door himself and tentatively opened it to call into the rooms, “My King?”

“Cerik. Come in.” Malav’s tone betrayed his annoyance.

“I took the liberty of sending Ivran for the wine you favor and drawing a hot bath for you, my King. He said you were out of sorts this evening.” Cerik entered and fell back into his old role with ease.

Malav barked a laugh. “Anything else?”

“I took him to task for suggesting finding a lady of the court to soothe you. I warned him that I would personally have him flogged.” Cerik heard Malav laughing softly.

“My Charyic adores you for good reason.” The King looked tired but gave him a smile. “You came to look in on me?”

Cerik smiled wryly, “I feel perhaps I should have. I’ve been approached with concern about your campaign plans.” Malav’s eyes narrowed. “Trade is of great concern my King, I advised they prepare for an extended disruption. You have not discussed your plans with me, but I know that the time you have to fetch your wife is beginning to grow shorter. Trade is of less concern than pleasing Malies and returning Lady Charyic to her proper place.”

Leaning back in his chair, Malav looked deeply unhappy. “It was suggested to me, by a young lord trying to earn a place in my campaign, that I may not want my wife back after she has spent months dallying with a Light Bringer. He is now occupying a cell. But I can’t.” Malav closed his eyes and opened them, angrily sitting up and leaning forward.

“Can’t stop thinking of it. Of her with Esus.” Cerik finished and pulled a chair close to the King.

“It burns me, Cerik. She is mine. MY wife. How could she let him touch her?”

“Do you think it burned her less, my King?” Malav fixed him with a dangerous glare but he continued, “Her greatest fear was you putting her aside, and she found you in bed with Vanyic discussing it. You will have to find a way to forgive her for taking Esus to bed if you expect her to forgive you for breaking her heart and her trust.”

Malav bowed his head. “I can forgive her. I could forgive her anything, but when I touch her I’ll wonder if it is Esus she wants, if-”

Cerik let out a loud laugh as if he were unable to keep it in. Malav looked up incensed. “I’ve seen Esus. And I’ve seen her with you, my King. She was inflamed with desire by your touch.”

Malav cracked a smile. “Yes.” He took a breath and his eyes almost glowed as he seemed to remember. “The sight of my skin made her want to kiss it. She marveled at my size. And that someone so beautiful wanted her.”

“Esus is not beautiful.” Cerik smiled smugly.

“No. And he’s smaller in every way.” Malav gave him a vicious smile. “You’re right, I have nothing to fear.”

Ivran entered with a bottle of blackthorn wine and presented it for Malav’s consideration, “Luzor blackthorn wine, my King. Shall I pour two glasses?”

“Please, Ivran.” Malav was in markedly better spirits and Ivran looked relieved.

“Where is your taster, my King?” Cerik inquired pointedly.

“The bottle is sealed, Lord Cerik.” Ivran offered with a tone of condescension as he uncorked the bottle and moved to fetch the glasses.

Frowning, Cerik looked at Malav. “My King, you should always have a taster, even sealed bottles can be tampered with. Allow me to perform the duty if you do not wish to send for one.”

With a gesture, Malav allowed him to take the first glass but stopped him before he brought it to his lips. “Wait, my friend. I’ve changed my mind. Ivran will be granted that duty tonight.”

The servant looked suddenly less confident in his proclamation. Cerik offered him the glass. Malav watched intently as the younger man sipped at the wine and then tried to speak. Ivran shuddered and dropped the glass, falling to his knees gasping for breath.

“I realized you were right when he smirked, my friend. He was looking forward to watching you die gasping.” Malav’s eyes were glued to the spectacle in front of him as the man’s life ebbed.

“I would be more concerned with who had him poison the wine, my King, it was intended for you.” Cerik had some suspicions but he fervently hoped that he was wrong.

Malav’s smile made the room feel colder, “I have some idea, Cerik. The matter will be dealt with.”