Mark Anthony - Tower of Doom

"What? No polite knock, my lady? Have we surrendered all the niceties, then?"

Jadis curled her lip into a snarl. "As you said yourself, Caidin, this little charade has grown wearisome."

She hobbled into the chamber as a genuinely startled look crossed the baron's face. Strangely, this gave her some satisfaction.

"What is wrong, Caidin?" she said in a slurred voice. "Do you no longer find me desirable?"

His eyes narrowed in disgust as he regained his composure. "I might, my lady, were I a vulture with a taste for carrion."

Jadis glared at him hatefully.

"But please," he went on indulgently, "won't you sit down?"

Caidin gestured for her to sit in the chair opposite him, and this she did clumsily. As she sank down into the velvet cushion, she had the distinct impression that the chair shifted beneath her.

"You seem oddly calm, Your Grace," she began musingly.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I would have thought that a baron who was about to be executed by his own subjects might get a bit more apprehensive. I understand the rabble plan on assaulting the keep in force tonight. And in an effort to save their precious, powdered necks, most of the members of your court-ever the pragmatists, you see-plan to join in the fun when the peasants clap you in irons and drag you to the dungeon."

Caidin pressed his hands into a steeple shape before him. "Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if the peasants found themselves a bit too preoccupied for an uprising tonight."

Jadis licked her peeling lips. "Why is that?"

"Enough about myself," Caidin sidestepped smoothly. "What brings you to see me, my lady?"

Gathering her wits, Jadis proceeded carefully. "We're going to have a conversation, Your Grace, and it's going to go like this. You will tell me something I wish to know. Then I Will tell you something that I am quite certain you yourself will very much wish to know.

"You see, I've learned some interesting details concerning your birth, Your Grace." Jadis allowed herself a caustic laugh. "But that title isn't really appropriate, is it?" Smugly, she noticed the flicker of alarm that passed over his countenance. "Perhaps you can tell me. What is the proper aristocratic term for bastard?"

Caidin's composed expression shattered. "How do you know that?" he hissed.

"It is unimportant. All that matters is that, somewhere on the edge of your fiefdom, a courier awaits a message from me. His instructions are such that if by sundown tonight he does not receive this message-and indeed it is a simple message, but a single word-this courier will ride hard to I) Aluk and deliver to a select set of nobles some very exciting news concerning Baron Caidin of Nartok.",

Caidin gripped the arms of his chair in white- knuckled fury. Jadis shook with mirth.This was simply too wonderful.

"I will be ruined," he whispered hoarsely.

"Precisely, Your Grace. If word spreads among the nobility of Darkon that you are a bastard, you are finished. No noble will bend his knee to an illegitimate ruler. In their utter contempt, the nobility will never support you. I would give you two weeks on the throne before you were assassinated. Perhaps less."

"Very good, Jadis," Caidin said in open admiration. "Very, very good. You're right, of course. I would indeed like to know this one remarkable word that would stay the courier's spurs. And let me postulate as to what piece of information you wish to receive in return." He clenched his hand into a fist. "Could it be how I intend to depose Azalin in his castle of Avernus with a tower that presently stands in my fiefdom?"

"Your Grace can read my mind," Jadis replied with mock demureness.

"Very well, Jadis. I will tell you what I intend to do. In fact, I do not think it will help your master very much, even if you manage to survive long enough to deliver the news." He eyed the dark splotches on her hands.

"Get on with it," she snapped.

Soon her anger was replaced by fascination as she listened to the dark words the baron spoke. When he finished, Jadis could barely suppress a shudder. The fiendishness of Caidin's plan surprised even her. However, now she had what she had come for. She had to return to II Aluk without delay. "You have fulfilled your end of the bargain, Caidin. Once I am outside the keep, I will fulfill mine." She started to push herself out of the velvet chair.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my lady."

Something in Caidin's voice made her hesitate.

"In fact, I think you would do well to stay seated in that chair and proceed to tell me just where I might find this courier of yours, and what word I must speak to him." N

Jadis studied him with calculating eyes. "And what, pray tell, would compel me to do that?"

Caidin stood and approached a small wooden shelf near the door. On it was a small object concealed by a black cloth.

"You see, my lady," he explained matter-of-factly, "the square of stone upon which your chair stands is sensitive to the weight that rests upon it. The slab is attached to a rope and pulley beneath the floor, which is in turn attached to the rod that supports this shelf. Should you leave the chair, the rope will move, and the support will be pulled out from under the shelf. As a result, the glass jar beneath this cloth will fall to the floor and shatter."

Jadis frowned. "I fail to see why a jar shattering should bother me."

"Oh, normally it shouldn't," Caidin concurred. "Except this is no ordinary jar, but is instead an enchanted prison for a most interesting creature."

He pulled away the dark cloth. Crimson flames danced and shimmered inside the glass jar. Jadis thought she glimpsed a tiny, humanlike being amid the flickering fire, but she could not be certain. The flames were too bright to gaze at directly.

"I found this peculiar item in a forgotten room deep below the keep," Caidin went on casually. "The creature within is a fire elemental. Oh, it looks small and harmless. Of course, it has been imprisoned for centuries. I imagine that, if it were released, it would be quite… annoyed."

Fear clawed at Jadis's throat. King Azalin sometimes summoned fire elementals to dispatch his enemies. When the magical creatures were finished there was little left of their victims but ashes.

"So you see, my lady, since the jar is out of your reach, and you couldn't possibly hope to catch it before it crashed to the floor and shattered, you would do well to obey me." Jadis glared at him. What was she to do? Once he knew where to find the courier, what reason would he have to let her live? "I will withdraw to allow you to consider your answer." Before she could utter a word in protest, he backed from the room and shut the door. The lock made a grinding sound. Jadis swore a bitter oath. She was trapped. In the corridor outside the sitting chamber, Caidin jerked aside a purple curtain. Perched on a wooden stool in the alcove beyond was his gnome lackey. "Keep an eye on her, my faithful little worm," Caidin commanded. "With pleasure, Your Grace!" Pock bent forward to peer through a small crevice in the stone. He recoiled in sudden surprise, making a nauseous sound. "Er, kitty isn't so very pretty anymore, is she?" "No, she is not. But she is still dangerous, Pock. And clever. Make certain she does not escape. She has some knowledge that is… most important to me." "Don't you worry, Your Grace," Pock chirped happily. "I'll watch her like a hog!" A scowl crossed Caidin's face. "You mean hawk, don't you? The phrase is, 'Watch her like a hawk.' " Pock's purple face wrinkled in puzzlement. He shrugged. "I hadn't thought of that, Your Grace, but I suppose I could give it a try." The baron bit his tongue. What was the use? "Just keep an eye on her, Pock!" "Aye, aye, Your Grace! I'll keep an eye on her just like a-" 4 Caidin pulled the curtain hastily shut. He did not want to hear any more. There were other things to worry about besides Pock's stupidity. Turning, he strode purposefully down the corridor, his glossy black boots beating a sharp tattoo against the stone floor.