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."
Rigo shook his head. "No. The exchange of coin between our nations will rouse suspicion. Even I cannot escape Council scrutiny when it comes to finances."
Neylen turned to his lover and cupped his cheek. "Once we untangle ourselves from this affair, we will profit. You have my word."
"I hope you are right." Rigo straightened, leaned his hip against the banister and roughly undid his silken cravat. The garment joined the others on the floor. "What of the Calantian, has he talked?" Before Neylen could reply, Rigo held up his hand. "A word of warning, my ears are fatigued by word of endless misfortune, so do not speak if you bear ill tidings."
Neylen leaned against the balustrade and crossed his arms. "The Calantian guard confessed everything. Mast's killer appears to be a member of the Jewelers' Guild. The interloper goes by the street name of Jars."
Rigo's ears shone the color of ripe tomatoes. "Who is this pathetic fuck and what was he doing in Tan'os' villa?"
Neylen kept his tone cool. "He was born and raised in the Tangles, the bastard son of a curskin potter and a prostitute. His birth name is Jarle Jadien."
Rigo cut Neylen off with an incredulous snarl. "The scum's name is Jarle!? I will see these damned curskins pay for their mockery!"
Neylen ignored the outburst and continued, "It appears that Tan'os' guards hired this thief to steal jewels belonging to your betrothed. The Calantians planned to split the spoils with the interloper."
Rigo raised his eyebrows. "And this Jars was there purely by coincidence?"
Neylen nodded. "It appears so."
Rigo scoffed in disbelief. "Listen to me carefully, Neylen. Tan'os was respected, if not loved. People are not comfortable with murder, and kidnapped women. They expected a wedding, and they got a bloodbath. If we don't produce a culprit and, at least, pretend to care about what has happened to the Vise of Reyza, we will have a mob on our hands. As if that weren't enough, Thyra's Northern Fleet is capable of pounding Reyza's bastions into dust. Let's not forget how Tan'os achieved power. The Strommarch's ships remain in Thyra, for now, but they will sail south soon enough."
A lopsided grin crossed Neylen's lips. "Then it is rather convenient that we have someone to blame, isn't it?"
Rigo met Neylen's pitch-black eyes. "You cunning snake."
Sensing Rigo's change of mood, Neylen pulled the youth against him. The Jarle was lithe, seeming almost petite against his body. "We could use this," Neylen whispered in Rigo's ear. "Just what kind of man breaks into a man's home, steals his riches, murders innocents in their sleep, kills the Vise and then absconds with his daughter—your wife-to-be—the future mother of your children?"
"A savage," mused Rigo. "An absolute monster!"
"Precisely." Neylen bit Rigo's ear. He ran his hand over the curve of Rigo's buttocks. "This Jars is the worst kind of monster, a daemon in the flesh who must be found, tortured and executed for all to see. Round up the thief's family and the people who know him and question them. Have the Lord Justiciar issue a tempting reward for his capture."
"Yes," Rigo gasped. "I want a hundred criers in the streets this very evening. Let them shout the thief's name loud and clear. Jarle 'Jars' Jadien is henceforth a wanted man and an enemy of Reyza." Rigo pulled free of Neylen's arms and paced past him. He looked toward the docks where the setting sun tinged the water in molten gold. "What news from the port? What says the harbor master?"
Neylen's livery collar shone in the setting sun. "Tsardon searched all of the ships as you commanded. There was no sign of the girl. I am told that the Tasirny and the Howl of the West sailed before the harbor was closed."
Rigo tapped his fingers together. "I will send word to Ther'oldo and inform him of these developments. He made his intention clear regarding the Thrommish ships currently in port. I will suggest that the Helicon and the Guldvïnd give chase. The less Thrommish presence in this city the better."
"That is a splendid idea," Neylen agreed.
Rigo stopped his pacing. "I want that curskin half-breed, and that northern whore found. I will have Tsardon search the Tangles and the beaches. I will turn this city upside down if I have to!"
Despite his cool composure, Neylen's head ached and his lips felt dry. "I will have my personal Durauk Guard aid in the search. If they don't ferret them out, the Hand of Fate surely will."
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