Jess Lebow - Master of Chains

The king sat atop his gilded throne, a goblet of wine in one hand and an ornate pearl-hilted dagger in the other. He regarded the bowed man with heavy eyes.

"Rise, my subject," said the king, lifting his goblet off his knee to take a drink of the blood-red wine inside.

Montauk got to his feet, placed his hands together, and bowed his head once more. "Thank you, my lord."

The king took a large breath, his chest heaving inside his golden breastplate. "You have petitioned my council for what you have called a grave and urgent matter regarding Ahlarkham."

"That is correct, my lord." Montauk kept his head slightly bowed, never making eye contact with the monarch.

"Well, out with it, man," said the king, leaning forward in his throne. "For I much desire to hear news from the realm of my sister, Princess Dijara."

"The people, my lord," replied Montauk, "the good farmers, merchants, and fishermen of Ahlarkham are up in arms."

This got the king's full attention. "Up in arms? Over what?"

"Over unnecessary taxation, my lord."

The king waved his hand. "Bah. Taxation is never popular, but it is a necessity. The people will grumble, but they will never revolt over it."

Montauk raised his eyes. "You don't think so?"

The king shook his head. "They know that without the baron and the taxes they pay to him they would not have the protection of his army. They would be forced to defend themselves against the dangers that run wild in the countryside." He waved the pearl-hilted dagger in his hand. "The trolls, goblins, and drow are far worse than any tax. The people know this."

"This is precisely my point," said Montauk. He took a step closer to the throne.

The king bristled a little at the move, but he allowed Montauk to stay where he was.

"The people know what it is they are supposed to get for their taxes," Montauk said. "But they aren't getting it."

"Baron Purdun employs a full-time army. He has some of the best soldiers and equipment in all of Erlkazar." King Korox turned sideways in his throne, shifting his weight onto his hip. "Besides, if he were having trouble keeping the peace he would have sent a message to me or one of the other barons." He took another sip of his wine. "I have heard of no such communications."

Montauk took another step forward. "My lord, the vampires have returned."

The king sat up straight. "The vampires?"

Montauk wrinkled his brow. "Yes, my lord. They have returned, and the people fear for their lives."

"Why have I not heard of this before?"

"Pride, my lord," said Montauk. "Perhaps Lord Purdun doesn't want his king to think he cannot handle this problem."

The king shook his head. "Purdun is not that sort of man. It's been only a handful of years since the old kingdom fell. He knows the stories. He was there-he was a Crusader, for gods' sake."

"True, true," said Montauk. "But things have been quiet in Erlkazar for some time. Despite the growing threat, Purdun feels he can deal with the situation without outside help. His reputation as a hero and as a Crusader makes him stubborn and proud. The people know this, and they grow tired of the baron's attempts to regain his former glory."

The king placed his goblet on the arm of his throne and scratched his chin. A servant immediately jumped up onto the dais, grabbed the wine, and disappeared. The king sat silently on his throne for several moments, then looked up at the painting in the dome above. He pointed to it.

"The Black Days of Eleint were a direct result of the barons failing to please the whims of the people." He shook his head. "Morkann failed to see how deeply the dissent of the people ran, and it nearly cost him his life." He slammed the hilt of his dagger down on the arm of his throne. "That was how Erlkazar came to be a country independent from Tethyr."

Montauk nodded his agreement. "This is why I bring this problem to you now, my lord, before it is too late."

The king looked down on Montauk from his dais. "Tell me more."

"Nightly the town of Duhlnarim comes under attack by the undead. The people have organized a rebellious group called the Crimson Awl. They work to install a real leader in Zerith Hold, one who will protect them and keep their families and farms safe from the vampires."

The king stood up from his throne, gripping his dagger tightly in one hand. "And I suppose you are that man."

Montauk bowed. "At your service, my lord."

"And what would you have me do with Baron Purdun?"

Montauk took another step forward.

The king put his hand up. "That will be quite far enough."

Montauk nodded. "My sincere pardon, my lord." He took a step back. "I would suggest you do to Lord Purdun what King Morkann did when faced with the same situation."

"Place him in irons?" The king scoffed. "You forget, Master Montauk, Baron Purdun is married to my sister. He is part of my own family."

"Yes, my lord, but the history books are full of stories about monarchs losing power because of the machinations of a greedy relative."

"Are you suggesting that Lord Purdun is after my throne?"

Montauk shook his head. "No, my lord. Only that to overlook the obvious simply because of family ties is a mistake made frequently by the dispossessed and the dead."

King Korox sat down on his throne, a look of deep contemplation on his face. He snapped his fingers. In an instant, a servant was at his side, placing a full goblet of wine in his empty hand.

"I will give this matter my utmost consideration, Master Montauk," said the king. "I thank you for bringing it to my attention."

Montauk bowed again. "Of course, my lord. I do what I can to serve my country and my king."

The king waved his hand, and with that, Montauk turned and exited the double doors, the concerned look on his face replaced with a wide smile.

Ryder sat in a ceilingless room-illuminated by starlight-high in the spiraling tower of Fairhaven. He let one leg dangle over the edge of a huge tub of hot water-an extravagance to say the least. The Broken Spear had boiled the water over the fire and carried it in buckets all the way up the stairs to this chamber. Giselle had ordered the water be drawn and had given Ryder the privilege of the first bath.

The tub itself was huge-easily as big as the public baths in Duhlnarim. When he was younger and had thought he could make a life somewhere off the farm, Ryder had taken a job in the nobles' quarter, cleaning up after the rich people. Scrubbing out the bath basins had been the last straw. The wealthy people of Duhlnarim were far filthier than even the pigs on the farm. He had decided, then and there, knee-deep in a dirty public bath, that he would far rather slop the filth of the animals than the filth of Duhlnarim's upper class.

His experience made him appreciate just how much work had gone into preparing the bath before him. Somehow, the absurdity of his location and the extra effort required to produce such a lavish thing made it feel that much better. He lowered himself fully into the water, closed his eyes, and took in a deep lungful of warm, humid air.

As the warm water relaxed his muscles, he let his thoughts drift back to Samira. She had always loved baths. She would certainly enjoy this one. When he got back, the first thing he was going to do was take a long bath with her.

He imagined her with him in the giant tub. He though back on baths he had taken with her before. The memories were so vivid he could almost feel her skin on his.

A hand caressed his shoulder and ran up the side of his neck. The sensation sent a warm tingle down his spine. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman, even his fantasies felt real.

The hand massaged the sore muscles on the back of his neck, and Ryder let out a sigh.

"If only," he said.