Mayer Alan Brenner - Spell of Intrigue

Fradi had realized that Dooglas promised to be the weak link as soon as he’d seen Sapriel rope him in. Still, there was no predicting Dooglas would fall apart to the comprehensive extent he had actually achieved. The early events had unfolded well; by driving Groot toward insolvency and dishonor, it had become consistent for the river ship to be seized. This would have at the least inconvenienced its passengers. Fradi had hoped things would proceed far enough to strand them in Oolsmouth for an extended stay, ruin their rendezvous plans in the big city, and most importantly put them in a position where they could be easily observed and monitored. With the collapse of Dooglas and the implosion of the rest of the setup the first two of these had gone away. The third, though, had not been a total loss. And there was The Hand; they should be reporting in soon.

It would have been asking too much to keep a constant line on all the players, and there were certainly significant holes in what he had been able to find out. Since that damned amulet kept anyone from observing Maximillian himself too closely, the major goal of the exercise had been to see what allies of Max could be flushed from the underbrush, as well as to get some feeling for their capabilities and ability for dynamic response.

So now he knew about Shaa, Karlini and his wife and his no-account servants, Haalsen Groot, and that floundering barbarian, in addition to Maximillian himself and the Mont kid. There was also that other fellow who had appeared out of nowhere in time to board the ship out of Oolsmouth, the guy with the cane. Not that he’d looked like anyone of significance, but you never could tell, and it was supporting players Fradi needed to flesh out the cast list anyway. Perhaps the man with the cane was the one who could be turned ...

So if not much had been accomplished, he had set limited objectives, and those, at least, had been largely met. The objectives had been limited, but Fradi was still human, or anyway it seemed reasonable to assume that, and so he was still prey to wishful thinking as well. He hadn’t wiped anyone from the stage and hadn’t even inflicted more than a momentary sting, although if things had fallen a bit differently he very well might have. Now that would have made him know he was alive. Intelligence collection and harassment were all fine and good, but when it came right down to it, if you didn’t attack, who were you?

In the long run, though, that might have limited the fun. A much larger canvas was ahead, one more suitable for the mounting of a greater extravaganza. And of course for the serious pursuit of his mission; one mustn’t forget one’s mission in the midst of one’s artistry. Fradi knew he’d been going a bit too far when he’d fed Dooglas the torture decree, but he’d decided to allow himself one direct personal touch; a signature piece, as it were. By that time it wasn’t going to make much difference anyway, and there were certain standards of style to maintain.

Ego ? Fradi thought, holding the glass by one corner of its base and swirling the wine with an adroit movement of thumb and forefinger; the candlelight glinted off the curves of the resulting small whirlpool and accentuated their highlights. Well, yes, ego, but not just that. Fradi was not the only one who considered himself an artist. There was, after all, his patron. It would not do to forget his patron. His patron was another good reason to draw things out. Fradi had not been born yesterday, or even reborn. It would not be a good idea to wrap this up before he knew exactly why his patron was going to all this trouble, why Max and his research made him uncomfortable enough to recruit Fradi from the dead, and until Fradi had a firm enough position from which to ensure his own future well-being. No, it would not do at all.

Any interesting scheme never has a single motivation.

Soon he would leave Oolsmouth, and then the next act would begin. There were so many possibilities in front of him that, like a writer with a blank slate, it was difficult to know where to begin. There was the man with the cane. What about the wife? She might be vulnerable. Wives often were. Fradi’s smile widened. They would see. They would all see. In Peridol, the City of the Gadzurian Empire.