The Unseen Hand

Ch 13: Daemon in the Flesh

Brindi, Eighth of Sund'im, 445 A'A'diel

The iron and glass doors that led to the balcony of the royal bedroom were open, and a cool breeze rustled the curtains. From the dim interior of the bedroom, Neylen watched his lover pace from one side of the balcony to the other. Rigo had discarded his jacket and vest, which lay rumpled on the floor, and his hair was a disheveled nest of curls. Rigo bit his nails as he walked, a habit Neylen found irksome, if not outright revolting. 

Neylen left the shadows and stepped out to the balcony. Straightening his shoulders, he prepared for confrontation. Rigo was in a black mood which could only mean that his meeting with the Thrommish Ambassador had not gone as planned.

Neylen lowered his eyes and bowed his head. "You sent for me, Your Highness."

Rigo ignored him. He paced back and forth a score more times before pausing to face the bronze-skinned Dessian. "I have news," Rigo hissed. "That frozen old fuck is not going back to Thyra."

Neylen lifted his head and looked into Rigo's eyes. The jarle was more than ten years his junior with large, pale blue eyes and soft sensual lips. When he was angry, a hot blush tinged his youthful complexion which served to weaken his masculinity. There were times when, in a certain light, that Rigo appeared every bit an androgynous figure; like the fabled sylphs of his desert land. The thought triggered a smile which goaded Rigo's anger.

Neylen cleared his throat. "That's not entirely unexpected."

Rigo threw up his hands. "How can you stand there looking so calm? Everything you said would happen has not!"

Neylen walked to the railing and looked over the city. Below the palace ramparts, staggered terraces of villas and plazas cascaded down to the glimmering sea. Thin pines rose artfully from the chaos of buildings and gulls floated on the breeze. "The continued presence of Ambassador Ers does not complicate matters. He is alone, and without the Vise, he is nothing more than a toothless hound."

Rigo stepped up to the railing and joined Neylen. He leaned on his elbows and ran his hands through his hair. "A toothless hound that will be sniffing about. He intends to conduct his own investigation and forced my hand into signing a writ bestowing his man the temporary rank of Chief Justiciar."

Neylen's expression was placid as he stared out to the shimmering ocean beyond the harbor. "That is a minor complication. Lord Justiciar Tsardon has followed our instructions regarding the evidence. Whatever the ambassador's man discovers will only serve to solidify our official account. Regardless, we should have the ambassador and whoever he hires closely watched."

Rigo clenched his fists. "There is more. Ers insists that I keep Tan'os' body, and that of Avaren's maid-in-waiting magically preserved to stave off decay until Thromm is satisfied with their findings. That could be weeks or months."

Neylen fixed his gaze on the Collegium's spire opposite the palace. "Risking the damnation of Tan'os' soul is not the most intelligent decision."

Rigo dropped his head into his hands. "Even after death that ill-begotten son of a northern whore continues to squeeze my balls! The Collegium mages are as double-dealing as the thieves of this city. Once they realize that I have little choice in the matter of the preservation of the bodies, they will demand an exorbitant price. And then there is Ers' implied threat of the Northern Fleet and my brother-in-law, Strommarch Rhiess descending on this city. Did I mention my sister despises me?"

Neylen felt his stomach drop. The coup which he had so carefully crafted was unraveling, and if he didn't reign in the threads soon, Rigo would turn on him. "This is a rather unexpected turn of events. Please, allow me to share the brunt of this expense. I insist."