Michael Sullivan - The emerald storm

"You should indeed," Merrick replied.

"You bring good news then?"

"The best, Your Lordship-Delgos has fallen."

"Excellent!" Ethelred applauded.

Merrick reached the table and pulled off his gloves one finger at a time. "The Ghazel invaded Tur Del Fur five days ago, meeting only a weak resistance. They took Drumindor and burned much of the port city."

"And the Nationalist Army?" Ethelred asked sitting down comfortably in his chair with a smile stretching across his broad face.

"As expected, the army packed up and went south the moment they heard. Most have family in Delgos. You can retake Ratibor at will. You won't even need the army, a few hundred men will do. Breckton can turn his attention north to Melengar and begin plans for the spring invasion of Trent."

"Excellent! Excellent!" Ethelred cheered. Saldur and the chancellor joined in his applause, granting each other smiles of relief and pleasure.

"What happens when the Ghazel finish with Delgos and decide to march north?" The Earl of Chadwick asked. Seated at the far end of the table, he did not appear to share his companion's gaiety. "I'm told there's quite a lot of them and hear they're fearsome fighters. If they can destroy Delgos, what assurance do we have they won't attack us?"

"I am certain the Nationalists will halt their ambitions in the short term, milord," Merrick replied. "But even if not, we face no threat from the Ba Ran Ghazel. They are a superstitious lot and expect some sort of world ending catastrophe to beset them shortly. They want Drumindor as a refuge, not as a base for launching attacks. This will buy the time you need to take Melengar, Trent, and possibly even western Calis. By then, the empire will be supreme and the Nationalists a memory. The remaining residents of Delgos, those once independent merchant barons, will beg for imperial intervention against the Ghazel and eagerly submit to your absolute rule. The empire of old will be reforged."

The earl scowled and sat back down.

"You are indeed a marvel and deserving of your new title and station, Lord Marius."

"Since you already have Gaunt, and Esrahaddon is dead, I believe that finishes my employment obligations."

"For now," Ethelred told him. "I won't let a man of your talents get away that easily. Now that I have found you, I want you in my court and I will make it worth your loyalty."

"Actally, I already spoke with His Grace about the position of Magistrate of Colnora."

"Magistrate, eh? Want your own city, do you? I like the idea. Think you can keep the Diamond under your thumb? I suppose you could-certainly, why not? Consider it done, Lord Magistrate, but I insist you do not take your post until after Wintertide. I want you here for the festivities."

"Ethelred is getting married and crowned emperor," Saldur explained. "The Patriarch will be coming to perform the ceremony himself and, if that's not enough, we will be burning a famous witch."

"I would not miss it."

"Excellent!" Ethelred grinned. "I trust accommodations in the city are to your liking? If not, tell the chamberlain and he'll find a more suitable estate."

"The house is perfect. You are too kind, My Lord."

"I still don't see why you don't simply stay in the palace."

"It is easier for me to do business if I am not seen here too frequently. And now, if you'll forgive me I must-"

"You aren't leaving?" Ethelred asked disappointed. "You just got here. With news like this, we have to celebrate. Don't doom me to merrymaking with the likes of an old cleric and a melancholy earl. I'll call for wines and beef. We'll get some entertainment, music, dancers, and women. How do you like your women, Marius? Thin or plump, light or dark, saucy or docile? I assure you, the lord chamberlain can fill any order."

"Alas, My Lord, I have some remaining business to which I must attend."

Ethelred frowned. "Very well, but you must show up for Wintertide. I insist."

"Of course, My Lord."

Merrick left while the imperial rulers exchanged congratulatory accolades. Outside, a new carriage awaited, complete with four white horses and a uniformed driver. On the seat rested the package from the city constable. Merrick had offered brandy in trade and the constable leapt at the opportunity. A bottle of fine liquor in return for the worthless remnants of the defunct witch-hunt was the sort of good fortune that the sheriff was unaccustomed to receiving. Unwrapping it, Merrick ran his fingers over the shimmering material of the robe.

The carriage traveled up The Hill and turned on Heath Street, one of the more affluent neighborhoods in the city. The homes, though not terribly large, were tasteful and elegant. A servant waited dutifully to remove his cloak and boots while another stood by with a warm cup of cider. Merrick never drank wine, ale, or spirits and was amused to see this accommodation taken into account. He sat in the drawing room surrounded by burgundy furnishings and dark wood paneling sipping his drink while listening to the pop of the fireplace.

A knock sounded at the door. He nearly rose to answer, when he spotted one of his new servants trotting to the foyer.

"Where is she, Merrick?" he heard an angry voice shout.

A moment later, the valet led two men into the drawing room.

"Please have a seat, both of you." Merrick reclined in his soft chair, warming his hands with his cup. "Would either of you care for a drink before we conduct business? My servants can bring you whatever you like, but I must say the cider is especially good."

"I said, where is she?"

"Relax, Mister Deminthal, your daughter is fine and I'll bring her down shortly. You fulfilled your end of the bargain brilliantly and I always honor my commitments. I merely wish to go over a few details. Only a formality I assure you. First, let me congratulate you, Wyatt. May I call you Wyatt? You've done an excellent job. Poe's report gave you extremely high marks.

"He tells me you were instrumental in getting Royce and Hadrian on board, and even after the unexpected sinking of the Emerald Storm, your quick thinking saved the ship's orders and the mission. I'm especially impressed with how you won over Royce's trust-no small feat-I might. But you must be a very convincing fellow as demonstrated by how you persuaded the Port Authority that Royce and Hadrian were in Tur Del Fur to destroy Drumindor. I'm convinced it is only by your skill and intelligence that the operation was such a wonderful success."

Merrick took a sip from his cider and sat back with a grin. "I have just one question. Do you know where Royce and Hadrian are now?"

"Dead. By the Ghazel or the Tur Del Fur officials, whoever got them first."

"Hmm, I doubt that. Royce is not easy to kill. He has gotten out of much more difficult situations before. I would say he leads a charmed life, but I know all too well what kind of life he's lived. Still, I wouldn't even trust Death to bind him long."

"I want my daughter-now" Wyatt said quietly through clenched teeth.

"Of course, of course. Mister Poe, would you be so kind as to run up and bring her down, third door on the left." Merrick handed him a key. "Seriously Wyatt, you are a very capable man. I could use you."

"Do you think I liked doing this? How many hundreds of people are dead because of me?"

"Don't think of it that way. Think of it as a job, an assignment, which you performed with panache. I don't see talent such as yours often and I could find other use of your skills. Join with me and you'll be well compensated. I am working on another project now, for an even more lucrative employer and I am in a position to make a great many good things happen for you. You and your daughter can live like landed gentry. How would you like your own estate?"

"You kidnapped my daughter. The only business I'm interested in doing with you-is arranging your death."