Филип Этанс - The Death Ray

“You smell,” Maelani said, her mouth running far ahead of her mind, which sat by cheering.

“Lady…?” Vargussel started, his face turning blotchy red again.

“You smell,” Maelani said, more loudly. “You reek of a sewer, you hideous, dried up old prune.”

“Lady, I—”

“Will shut your stinking hole and let me finish, you wretch,” the young woman continued.

Theria giggled and Vargussel flashed the maid a horrified glance.

“You think I could love you?” Maelani continued. “How could you think that? Is that what drives you in your most arcane and mysterious studies in your filth-reeking laboratory, you gutter rat? Is it those grimy, little fantasies that fuel your twisted old mind when you shop for last year’s ridiculous pigaches? Look at you. Look at yourself.”

Vargussel clamped his mouth shut, his lips pressing into a white line.

“Mistress,” Theria whispered, tugging on her arm.

Maelani jerked her arm out of her maid’s grip and held up a thin finger at Vargussel.

The door opened and a guard stepped in. The noise startled all three of the anteroom’s occupants and they shuffled uncomfortably, taking stock of themselves before the intruder.

“Vargussel,” the guard said, looking from the old wizard to the duke’s daughter to the maid.

Maelani could see the man trying to work out the situation and had to assume he hadn’t heard the conversation. She turned to the guard, who bowed, then she strode quickly to the outer door. Theria hustled behind her, shooting Vargussel one last look of stern disapproval.

“Sir,” the guard said, “the duke will see you now.”

Maelani let Theria close the door behind them without looking back.

Vargussel felt as if his blood had frozen solid. His veins and arteries were like a second skeleton, propping him up for all to see in his perfect, crystalline humiliation. He felt as if, at the slightest touch, he would shatter into a million shards of stupidity, ignorance, and self-loathing, and that every one of those million shards would be coated in the greasy stench of an abandoned slaughterhouse, his new family home, the final resting place of the tiny shred of human dignity that remained to his miserable “Are you all right, sir?” a voice asked, sending a shiver up Vargussel’s back.

The wizard blinked, shook his head, and his eyes fell on the face of the guard. Where he was, what he was doing, and more than that who he was, flooded back into Vargussel. His blood flowed once more, his mind raced anew, and his skin tingled with anticipation.

“I am fine,” he said, smiling at the sound of his own voice. The words came out steadily, in a tone deep and strong.

The guard nodded and gestured to the door.

“The duke awaits,” he said.

Vargussel grinned at the man and said, “Indeed he does, son.”

The duke awaits, Vargussel thought. The Duke of Koratia, one of the most powerful men in world, awaits me. He cannot function without me. The city, the duchy, the world itself would crumble without me. I am the man the duke needs most, and it will be the duke who convinces his daughter that “Sir?” the guard said, again breaking into Vargussel’s reverie.

The wizard took a deep breath, nodded, and followed the guard through the door.

As they passed through the short hall to the duke’s private office, Vargussel adjusted his clothing, shook his shoulders, and finished gathering his wits about him. When the guard opened the door to the office Vargussel was fully himself again, prepared to once more make himself indispensable to his duke.

“Vargussel,” the duke said,” there you are, old man.”

Once, Vargussel would have been delighted to hear the duke refer to him as “old man.” For a man like the duke, that was a sign of acceptance. After his utter failure with Maelani, however, the greeting made Vargussel feel like…an old man.

“Are you all right?” the duke asked.

Vargussel cleared his throat, found his mouth as dry as dust, and croaked out, “Certainly, Your Highness.”

“You look like a cavalryman who forgot his codpiece,” the duke joked. “Come in.”

Vargussel shuffled into the office in his ridiculous shoes, and just then became aware of the thin sheen of sweat that coated his entire body. He looked up at the duke and forced a smile. The duke looked back at him with narrowed eyes, sincere concern on his face.

“Your Highness,” Vargussel said, “sent for me?”

The duke nodded and motioned to a chair. Vargussel, knees shaking, all but staggered to a seat—then jumped when someone touched his back and said, “Excuse me, sir.”

Vargussel turned and realized he’d almost sat in another man’s lap. The duke was chuckling and the man, who Vargussel didn’t recognize, looked embarrassed. Vargussel shuffled to the other chair, made a conscious effort to see that it was empty, and sat. One of his knees cracked painlessly but loudly on the way down. Vargussel closed his eyes and sighed.

His eyes still closed, Vargussel heard the duke snap his fingers and there were hurried footsteps, the sound of water being poured into a glass, and the guard’s voice again, saying, “Sir?”

Vargussel opened his eyes, took the glass of water from the guard, and drank it down with shaking hands in one, unsatisfying gulp.

“Thank you,” he said to neither the guard nor the duke in particular.

The guard took the glass and left the room in an embarrassed hurry.

“Vargussel?” the duke said, his voice heavy with concern.

Vargussel breathed deeply and looked at the duke, who was sitting behind his impressive desk, eyeing him.

“Your Highness,” Vargussel said, “please accept my most sincere apologies. My experiments are reaching a critical phase, and I have to admit that lost sleep has been the price of my success in the laboratory. I hope you will forgive my state, as I hope you will believe that I am as able as I am willing to serve the duchy in whatever manner Your Highness desires.”

“Good,” the duke replied, glancing at the other man. “For a moment I thought something had happened in the anteroom. I trust you saw Lady Maelani on her way out.”

Vargussel felt the blood drain from his face, but he said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“And you’re certain all is well?”

“I am, Your Highness,” Vargussel replied, “most assuredly.”

“Very well,” said the duke, sitting back in his chair and motioning to the strange man. “This is Regdar, who just moments ago accepted the position of Lord Constable of New Koratia. Lord Constable, may I introduce Vargussel, a most capable wizard and a loyal friend to the duchy.”

Regdar tipped his head at Vargussel and said, “Vargussel. It is my pleasure.”

“Lord Constable?” Vargussel said.

“Yes,” replied the duke. “Regdar is one of my most trusted soldiers, and he has agreed to serve the duchy in the investigation of these murders.”

Vargussel swallowed, his mouth and throat still dry. He dabbed the sweat from his brow with his fingertips, which served only to send the perspiration dripping into his eyes.

Blinking madly, he said, “He has? I mean…has he indeed?”

“Are you quite certain you’re not ill, old man?” asked the duke.

“I am, Your Highness,” Vargussel replied. He shifted in his seat to sit up straighter and he turned to face the new lord constable. “My apologies, Lord Constable. Please feel free to assume that, unless his highness should say otherwise, my services are at your disposal, such as they may be.”

“Precisely what I hoped to hear,” the duke said.

Regdar said, “Thank you, Vargussel.”

“Yes,” the old wizard said, putting his hands on the arms of the chair to signal that he was intending to stand, “well, there we are.”