Richard Baker - Prince of Ravens

Kurzen drove the heavy old beer-wagon right up to the foot of the steps, sideswiping a fine coach with a tremendous crash as he reined in the exhausted horses. The instant the wagon slowed, Jack vaulted to the ground, followed by the rest of his companions. The guards at the door shouted in alarm and hurriedly shifted their halberds from their shoulders. “Here now!” one of the guards shouted. “You stop right there!”

“Narm, Kurzen!” Jack called. He simply rolled beneath the lowered halberds and darted past the guards. As they turned to strike, the half-orc swordsman and the burly dwarf tackled them on the steps, pummeling them furiously. Ignoring the spreading commotion behind him, Jack hurried through the great house’s foyer and front hall. Well-dressed lords and ladies turned in surprise as Jack strode toward the palace’s grand ballroom … but more of the Blacktree guards now hurried to intercept Jack. This time Halamar dealt with the armsmen, conjuring a wall of roaring flame to block their path. Gasps of astonishment and cries of panic spread through the crowd at the sight of the magical flames.

“Better speak swiftly,” Halamar said to Jack. “I will not be able to keep the guards out for long without killing some of them, and I have no wish to spend the rest of my days in the city dungeons.”

“My thanks, Halamar!” Jack answered. He clapped the sorcerer on the shoulder and strode through the ballroom’s wide doorway; he could feel the heat of the roaring wall of flame at his back. He paused, looking left and right, and then he saw Seila and her parents standing together near the center of the room. Squaring his shoulders, Jack strode purposefully toward Lord Norwood, conscious of the eyes of hundreds on him.

“Jack, what are you doing?” Seila asked in a low voice. She wore a beautiful floor-length green dress. Despite the danger he knew was drawing near, Jack’s heart took a tumble at the sight of her. “You should not be here!”

“I know, dear Seila. I will explain myself later, but first I must speak with your father.” He turned to Marden Norwood, who regarded him with a look of stony disapproval. “Lord Norwood,” he said, “you are all in terrible danger. The drow plan to attack you here in a matter of minutes. Their warriors are below the manor house at this very moment. Every important lord and official in Raven’s Bluff is here tonight-Dresimil Chumavh means to decapitate the city in a single stroke.”

Norwood glared at Jack. “Preposterous,” he declared. “I have never known you to speak a single word of truth. And the drow would never dare such a brazen attack.”

Jack momentarily hesitated. Marden Norwood had good reason to doubt his words, but he hadn’t expected to be dismissed out of hand, especially when bringing the old lord a warning about the drow. Seila, however, inadvertently rescued him. “How do you know this, Jack?” she asked.

“I caught Fetterfist,” he explained, “and intercepted a message for him from Dresimil Chumavh. Cailek Balathorp is Fetterfist!”

“Balathorp is Fetterfist?” Norwood repeated. “That is impossible!”

“I turned him over to the Watch last night,” Jack said. “Now, I beg you-”

“Just one moment, Norwood.” Jack glanced to his right … and there stood Cailek Balathorp, dressed in elegant black garb for the ball. “I cannot let that accusation pass unanswered,” said Balathorp.

Jack stood dumbfounded for several heartbeats. Balathorp should have been locked up in a cell in Ravendark Castle, not walking about at his liberty attending social functions! For that matter, even if some friend or ally of his had secured his release, the man ought to still be unconscious. “What are you doing here?” he finally managed. “You should be in the city dungeons!”

“Address me as ‘My Lord,’ or I will have you taught to speak more respectfully to your betters,” Balathorp snapped. “As it turns out, the magistrate does not place much stock in anonymous letters full of baseless allegations; he recognized that something was gravely amiss and summoned a healer to rouse me.” The tall lord then turned to Marden Norwood. “This houseguest of yours waylaid me in the street and drugged me. I have no idea what madness or villainy drove him to treat me in such a fashion, but I will not stand by and allow him to slander my good name in front of all these people. Silence him at once, or you will answer for his words.”

Jack glanced back to Marden Norwood, and saw nothing but cold fury on the old lord’s face. He tried again, desperate to make Seila’s father see the truth of his words. “Lord Norwood, Balathorp is in league with the drow! He has blades of his own here this evening to aid their attack. You must believe me!”

“That is enough,” Norwood snarled. He made a curt gesture with his hand. Jack noticed that while many of the Blacktree house guards were blocked from the ballroom by Halamar’s spell, there were still a dozen or so armsmen of other houses standing discreetly by the curtained alcoves and windows in the ballroom, several of them in the Norwood house colors. The Norwood armsmen began to hurry through the crowd toward Jack.

“I do not like the looks of this, Jack,” Arlith whispered behind him. “Are you certain you’ve got the right villain?”

A short, round-bodied fellow in a gold-embroidered black coat approached Norwood, frowning. Jack recognized the gold oak-leaf emblem of the Blacktree family on his coat, and the large gold chain that served as the mayor’s badge of office. “What’s all this about, Norwood?” the short nobleman asked.

“I apologize for the disturbance, Blacktree,” Norwood said through gritted teeth. “It appears this interruption must be dealt with. Please have him arrested.”

Jack glanced around and saw nothing but anger, suspicion, and contempt on the faces of the city’s assembled elites. He had only moments before Norwood’s soldiers dragged him away. Well, some of the lords and ladies in the room would get exactly what they deserved if the dark elves murdered them all after they ignored his warning. Others, most notably Seila, were innocent and were likely to be hurt or killed if he could not prove his point.

The great mantle clock in the adjoining room struck the hour; the first bell rang clearly throughout the hushed crowd. In pure desperation, Jack murmured the words to his invisibility spell and vanished from view.

The crowd gasped and stirred in shock. Cries of “The villain is escaping!” or “Stop him!” rang through the room. Jack, however, did not flee. He reached into the pouch at his belt and drew forth Fetterfist’s leather half-hood. Then he stole up behind Balathorp, unsheathing his dagger. The second bell struck. With the quickness of a striking snake, he pulled the half-mask down over Balathorp’s head while immobilizing the tall slaver with the threat of a bared blade at his throat. The sudden motion spoiled Jack’s invisibility, as he expected; he wavered back into view.

“Stand down your guards or Balathorp dies!” Jack shouted. The third bell chimed. “Seila-look at this man’s face. Is this Fetterfist?”

“I’ll have you fed to the eels for this!” Balathorp hissed to Jack. He twisted in Jack’s grip until Jack pinked him with the point of the dagger.

“That is one outcome,” Jack agreed. Another bell rang. “On the other hand, if I am a villain or madman, as you claim, there is no reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat if I am doomed anyway. Now hold still, or I’ll see if Seila can identify your corpse.”

Jack saw the bodyguards, armsmen, and retainers who were converging on the ballroom watching him with alert, determined expressions; well, if he’d done nothing else, he had at least put them on their guard. Norwood stepped forward and addressed Jack. “Stop this at once!” he barked. The fifth bell sounded. “I have no idea what game you are playing at, but your villainy is at an end!”