David Dalglish - Wrath of Lions

Matthew laughed.

“By Karak, you are pessimistic.”

She passed him a spiteful glance.

“Fuck Karak,” she said.

Mist rolled in over the water, swallowing dinghy and galley alike. Moonlight turned the mist into a solid wall of glowing white.

“Well, show’s over,” Matthew said, ignoring Moira’s blasphemous words as he steered her away from the ocean and led her down the pier to join his entourage. Six hard men escorted them through the quayside and into the heart of Port Lancaster proper.

Port Lancaster was the third-oldest settlement in all of Neldar, founded in the fourteenth year of man by Matthew’s great-grandfather, Lancaster Brennan. It had begun as a quaint township, a mere thirty men and women Lancaster’s age who had scoffed at the authority of the Wardens and struck out on their own. Leaving Erznia, they had settled far south along the shores of the Thulon Ocean. It was said that Lancaster had only felt comfortable when he could hear the crash of waves or feel the sting of the salty breeze on his cheeks.

Though the settlement had humble beginnings, a short eighty years later, it had become a bustling city, the most advanced in all of Neldar. Matthew; his father, Elbert; his grandfather Ansel-and, of course, Lancaster before him-had used the great wealth and resources they’d collected over the decades to create a shipping empire. The ocean and rivers of Neldar were Matthew’s domain, and no consignment could be sent across the waters without using his ships. He was the highest of merchants, and the king came to beg favors of him , not the other way around.

He glanced sidelong at Moira as they strolled along the streets of the city, the soles of their boots clicking on the slate that lined the walk. Superb buildings crafted of stone, clay, and wood rose up around them-shops, lodges, and warehouses that reflected the light of the moon and cast a pale bluish glow over her features. Though not as exquisite as Rachida, Moira was still quite beautiful in the statuesque Crestwell way, her flowing silver-white hair complementing the soft tone of her flesh. She was more than half a century old, but she looked only slightly older than Matthew, a byproduct of the First Families blood that ran in her veins. Feminine and thin, yet exuding quiet strength, she was strangely resplendent in her mannish tight black leather blouse and leggings. Her crystalline blue gaze was intoxicating. The only blemish on her otherwise perfect skin was a thin scar that ran behind her right ear and circled around the back of her head. She told him the injury had been given to her by her sister Avila, without explaining the particulars.

Not that Matthew required the details. He knew of her exile from her family, knew she’d taken up residence in Haven prior to its destruction at the hand of Karak. It was his business to know these things, especially as it had been Matthew’s boats that had ferried Karak’s weapons from the stoves of Felwood to the Omnmount staging grounds.

That fact had made for an uncomfortable irony when the surviving citizens of Haven came to him for help. They’d arrived by sea, on rafts and ferries owned by Peytr Gemcroft. The quest had been Peytr’s idea, the merchant being one of the few residents of Haven who had left Neldar by his own choice, seeking to mine the valuable jewels and minerals that hid beneath the delta’s marshy soil. The two merchants had grown close over the last decade, and Matthew respected much about the other man, his eccentricities and sexual appetites notwithstanding. So when Peytr had shown up at his doorstep, pleading to use the walls surrounding Port Lancaster to hide his reviled, exhausted people, Matthew had surprised himself by agreeing.

He’d sheltered them for as long as he could, until the tides of war began to flow too close to his doorstep. Then it was time to send the survivors west to the Isles of Gold aboard his clippers Twilight and Karak’s Wind , while Peytr and Rachida had taken their closest confidants aboard the Free Catherine . The Isles was an uninhabited archipelago off the coast of Ashhur’s Paradise that he’d discovered during his teen years. Ashhur’s children had not claimed the various islands, which hopefully meant that Karak would not think to search there when he stormed through the west.

They approached his estate, a four-story mansion that was the tallest building in Port Lancaster, with a turret that climbed high enough to overlook the wall surrounding the city. His six escorts ushered him up the front walk and into the foyer, where his maids, Ursula, Penetta, and Lori, awaited. The young women gestured for Moira to join them. One held a bottle of saffron and a wineskin; another, a small crate filled with squid dyes.

“Your transformation begins now,” Matthew told Moira. She nodded her head to him and accompanied his maids down the corridor, heading for the opposite end of the estate.

“What’re they doing, boss?” asked Bren, the head of his household guard. Bren was a rough and fiercely loyal man, his huge biceps and skill with a sword more than making up for what he lacked upstairs. He leaned against the foyer’s bookcase, tapping his fingers on the wood.

“Making her look like anything but a Crestwell,” he said.

“Why go through the trouble? Why not send her off with the queer and his wife?”

Matthew grinned. “Collateral.”

Bren tilted his head, confused.

“Peytr’s well has run dry,” Matthew continued. “He could not offer me payment, so he gave me her instead. When all of this is over, and Peytr makes good on the land he promised, she’ll be sent back to them.”

“You took her as collateral? You got a wife; you got whores. Why’s that tiny tart worth risking so much? Karak finds out you harbored them, and he’ll rub you out. He might rub the whole city out.”

“You worry too much,” said Matthew, shaking his head and slapping Bren’s shoulder. “Karak won’t know. We transport our Divinity’s goods up and down the Rigon at the expense of our other trade. He has no reason to doubt us.” He displayed his most confident grin. “And trust me, sooner or later you will find out just how much Moira is worth.”

“Like at the meeting tonight?”

Matthew nodded.

“If you say so, boss.”

“I do.”

Bren accepted his words, just as he always did. It was a good thing the man had no talent for reading body language, because Matthew was unable to stop the nervous clenching and unclenching of his fists. It wasn’t that he was being untruthful. He truly believed that Karak would never discover his role in helping the Haven survivors flee to safety. His heart was hammering in his chest for a different reason. What worried him was the meeting Bren had referenced, which was to take place later that evening, after the taverns had emptied and the city slept.

He bade his men goodnight and slipped up the stairwell, stopping to peer into his bedchambers on the third story. His wife, Catherine, was fast asleep in their giant bed, a single torch filling the room with faint light. His five children slept with her, sprawled out on the feather mattress, pictures of innocence in their slumber. His eyes lingered for a long moment on Ryan, his youngest and only male child. The two-year-old was tucked into his mother’s arms, lips puckered just below Catherine’s exposed nipple. The boy was his crowning achievement, the eventual heir to his fortune. Satisfied, Matthew shut the door and proceeded to his solarium on the top floor.

A fire was already burning when he stepped inside. Though Port Lancaster was far south and the true cold of winter never reached them, the night air held a distinct chill nonetheless. He poured himself two fingers of strong brandy and took a seat in his cushioned straight-backed chair, resting his legs on a footstool. The heat from the fire before him illuminated the giant sword that hung above the hearth. He sat quietly, sipping the bitter brew and soaking in the warmth of the fire. Matthew had been born of summer. Sun and warmth made him feel alive the same way the cold made him lethargic and uninspired. It was one reason he loathed his frequent visits to Veldaren, with its gray skies and cool clime.