Vance Moore - Odyssey

”I am astounded at your actions, my lord,” Laquatus said, his voice filled with warm regard. ”Your close knowledge of Llawan's policies and private feelings could alter the history of the seas.” The ambassador clapped the young noble on the back, a jeweled ring cutting into the flesh on the shoulder.

”A thousand apologies, Petod,” the merman said stripping the ring from his finger. ”It is a new piece and far too clumsy on my hand. Allow me to present it to you as a token of my esteem. No, I insist.” Laquatus put the ring on Petod's hand, ignoring the young mer's stumbling refusal. The ambassador exercised great caution as he placed and released the ring.

The self-appointed emissary rubbed at the puncture high on his shoulder, trying to accept the gift graciously even as his flesh went numb. Laquatus was in full court regalia and that included poison for his jewelry. The southern noble gasped, water moving fitfully through his gills. He choked and gasped as he realized himself attacked.

The ambassador decided his poison was not quite virulent enough. Too much time away from court had made his venom weak. He used his magic and called a stream of tiny jellyfish into being. The fragile cloud was hardly more substantial than the water in which it swam. He guided Petod to it, and his gills sucked the tiny bags of poison down. Toxins poured directly into his bloodstream, and Laquatus held him steady as his body locked. The torn flesh plugged the organs, and they ceased to supply oxygen. The ambassador banished the summoning as soon as he knew the courier was dead.

He swam back to the throne room, towing his dead victim behind him. He put on a burst of speed wanting to arrive with maximum effect. The valve doors were open, the assembled nobles withdrawing as fast as they dared. The ambassador swam past them as gasps of shock echoed behind him. He swam to where the emperor reclined with a cluster of officers waiting around him. Aboshan looked exhausted, his rage having consumed him during the audience. Guards surged from the walls and stopped, uncertain what threat a corpse might pose.

"Laquatus," the monarch said, looking at the dead Petod. "What is the meaning of your companion?" He waved a moray eel closer, and it snared the body hauling it away from the monarch.

"An assassin from the southern court, your imperial majesty," Laquatus said boldly. "I spotted him outside your very throne room, and when I went to investigate he attacked me."

"Look," the merman said dramatically, pointing to the corpse being pushed back by the moray ell. "Slain by the very ring he plotted to use on others in the palace. Dare I say, including your royal majesty." Aboshan gestured with a tentacle.

"Show me the ring," he commanded. The eel was perhaps too literal, and his jaws snipped Petod's hand off and brought it near. The monarch regarded the offending appendage and threw it to the side.

"Is there no end to this infamy? The rumors you reported are true! Raids on some of our greatest nobles have revealed links to our shark of a wife. Now an assassin outside our very throne room? Why do they plot against me?" he cried, no longer using the royal plural. He collapsed back into the throne, and the ambassador could feel energy pulsing back into the monarch from the palace.

’Perhaps war is the only answer,” a hesitant officer said, looking for support from his fellows. ”The queen's forces are not so superior. Surely a surprise attack would put an end to these conspiracies.”

The emperor looked up wanly. Laquatus spoke quickly to squash the idea. Open warfare would bring the emperor's interest back to the martial devices buried beneath his palace.

”My Emperor,” he stated, striving for statesmanship, ”the queen and her alliances make open warfare too dangerous for you both. Her air-breathing allies and the creatures of the deep would surely come to her aid. As deadly as these conspiracies are, they represent the limits of her reach. Her assassin was incompetent. Better security inside the palace is the answer. Llawan dares not attack openly and must strike through traitors and other toils.” Laquatus wanted Aboshan consumed by internal problems.

’Moreover,” the ambassador continued, ”open warfare would drag guards to the battle lines, weakening your security in the palace. We must root out conspiracies and make our own overtures to Llawan's allies. If we isolate her, then we can attack with impunity.”

”We are so very tired,” the emperor muttered, lying back as more magic whispered into his frame. ”Our wife will fall, but our wrath must wait. We shall strip her of allies here and abroad.” His eyes focused on Laquatus, decision swimming weakly into his gaze.

"You will consult with our officers on crushing those who plot against us," he stated. He rose and began to swim for his private quarters. "You have our warrant to do all that is necessary to guard our throne."

The officers and ambassador lowered their heads as the monarch passed.

Carte blanche! Laquatus exulted. Current and former rivals for power in the court would sink very soon, the ambassador promised himself. Still, perhaps he should begin reducing the perceived threat lest the emperor strike out in panic against his wife. War would reduce his ability to control the situation and give too much power to the generals.

Laquatus looked at the attentive faces surrounding him and knew hatred and envy must fill their hearts. He had displaced many on his rise to power, and now his enemies grew daily in number. If only Fulla would find the orb. With such an item of power, he might stop serving others' will and fully satisfy his own desires. He drew the officers to him, wondering how much longer he must reign himself in.

Kamahl peered down at the sea. The wooded hillside overlooked the coastal town of Borben on the continent's edge. The town sat at the end of a major trade road, the last habitation before the open ocean. A long peninsula jogged out for the mainland creating a protected bay. Like a single finger of hills, it beckoned to ships searching for port. Waterfowl and a few seals sunning themselves populated the last spit of land.

The barbarian walked to the hilltop along an overgrown trail, soaring above the main road. The joint caravans of the Cabal and the Mer Empire broke apart many miles behind him. The animals went south, and a few of the wagons continued on to Borben. Kamahl had parted ways with Emerald some days before, leaving the barbarian alone to walk into the town.

A few small ships lay anchored in the bay, with only one pier stretching out into the water for the transfer of freight from small vessels. Out on the water, a single lighter accepted a net of cargo from a larger ship. Oars started to row the boat back to the docks and warehouses.

Well back from town, nearly in the surrounding hills, sat a small arena. Nearly oval in shape, it was constructed out of wood, the large logs and rough-cut timbers whitewashed in the sun. It pressed against an outcropping of rock, the interior looking muddy from a distance. Sand was piled outside the fighting ring. The color told the barbarian it was hauled up from the shore.

The arena stood deserted now, but the mountain mage knew it would be crowded during market days and festivals. The best source of information regarding the ambassador and his stolen prize would undoubtedly be the bars around the docks and the arena. He was no seaman, and he resolved to try the inns close to the fighting ring, knowing he could mix with the jacks.

The town looked still now, but when the fishermen returned to port the docks would teem. He wondered when the bouts would start in the arena, so he could interact with familiar types of people. He considered his own appearance as he thought about poking around for information regarding the troubles in the east. The Order would distribute descriptions, and the ambassador might have left word of him as well.