Rage of a Demon King Page 8

  Roo was uncertain exactly what came next, but Jimmy said, “We can bathe ourselves, thank you. It is our custom. If we may have some privacy.”

  Without any expression the two young people waited. Jimmy pantomimed bathing and pointed to himself and Roo, and then to the servants and the door. The servants bowed and retired from the room. Roo said, “Bath servants?”

  “Very common here and in Kesh. Remember, they are slaves, so living in the luxury of a house like this is dependent on pleasing the master and his guests. Even the slightest fault might earn one of them a quick trip to a brothel along the docks, or the quarry, or anywhere else strong young slaves are needed.”

  Roo looked appalled. “I never thought much about it.”

  “Most people in the Kingdom don’t.” Jimmy began undressing. “If you don’t want to share the bath, I can go first or wait.”

  Roo shook his head. “I’ve shared cold rivers with other men, and that pool is big enough for six of us.”

  They stripped and entered the water. Roo looked around and said, “Where’s the soap?”

  “This is Queg,” said Jimmy, indicating a line of wooden sticks arrayed along the edge of the bath. “Scrape the dirt off with these.”

  Roo longed for a cake of hand-milled Krondorian soap, and looked dubiously at the sticks as he picked one up and followed Jimmy’s lead. After a sea voyage of two weeks, he wasn’t as dirty as he had been many times in his life, but he was far from being fresh. But as Jimmy showed him how to use the sticks, called a stigle in the local language, he found that the dirt came off quickly in the hot water.

  His hair was another matter. Repeated ducking under the water didn’t seem to rid him of that not-quite-clean feeling, but then Jimmy pointed out that most Quegan men oiled their hair.

  “What about the women?” asked Roo.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Jimmy as he rose from the pool and wrapped himself in a large bath sheet.

  After they had dressed, they found nowhere to sit, so they lay down, waiting for the call to dinner. Roo dozed a bit in the warm afternoon, until he was awoken by Jimmy.

  “Time to eat.”

  Roo came to his feet and found Livia waiting for them at the door of their suite. He picked up the wooden case with the rubies inside, and moved to the door. As he started to greet her, the girl said, “Were the servants unsatisfactory?”

  Roo had no idea what she was saying. Jimmy, however, said, “No, milady. We were weary and wished to rest.”

  “If you see one among the servers at the table whom you find desirable, mark that one by name and we shall send him or her to your room tonight.”

  Roo said, “Ah . . . milady, I’m a married man.”

  The girl looked over her shoulder as she led them down the hall. “This is a problem?”

  “In my nation it is,” said Roo, blushing. While cheating on his wife with Sylvia seemed as natural to him as breathing, the thought of one of those young girls—or boys—being sent to his bed, much like an extra blanket, positively scandalized him.

  Jimmy worked hard at not laughing.

  The girl seemed indifferent as she led them into the dining room. The table was a long slab of marble, resting upon a matched set of ornately carved supports. Roo assumed that the table had been hauled into the room by a derrick and the roof added after this massive piece of stone had been installed inside. Along each side sat a half-dozen chairs, open-backed, little more than half-circles of matching stone with thick pillows upon them, small benches, really, thought Roo. One didn’t move the heavy chairs to sit and dine, one stepped over them. Livia pointed to a chair to the left of the man sitting at the head of the table, indicating Roo should sit there. Then she moved to the chair on her father’s right. Jimmy sat at the remaining place, to Roo’s left.

  Lord Vasarius was an impressive man, thought Roo. His toga was worn off one shoulder, and Roo could see despite his age he was still a powerfully built man. He had the shoulders of a wrestler and the arms of a blacksmith. He had sandy hair that had turned mostly grey, and he wore it oiled and close to his head. He did not rise or offer his hand in greeting, but merely inclined his chin. “Mr. Avery,” he said.

  “My lord,” Roo returned, bowing as he would before the Prince.

  “Your message was cryptic, but the only thing of worth you might possibly have of mine in the Kingdom was a set of rubies stolen over a year ago. May I have them, please?” He held out his hand.

  Roo started to hand the case across the table, but a servant intercepted it and carried it the short distance to his master. He flipped open the case, briefly regarded the gems, then closed the case.

  “Thank you for returning my property. May I inquire how you came by it?”

  Roo said, “As you may have heard, m’lord, I have purchased several different companies lately, and this item was discovered among the inventory of one of them. As there was no lawful bill of sale attached and as your name was prominently noted on the case, I assumed them to be stolen goods. I thought it best to return them personally, given their unique beauty and their value.”

  Vasarius handed the case back to a servant without looking. “Their value is only they were to have been a gift for my daughter on her most recent birthday. Both the servant who removed them from this house, and the captain of the ship that took him from our island, have been found and dealt with. I have only to discover to whom they were sold and all those hands who have soiled them until you returned them to me. All will die painfully.”

  Thinking of his friend John Vinci, who had bought them from that Quegan captain, Roo said, “My lord, they were in an inventory box with other items of dubious origin. I doubt it possible to trace who dealt them along from the captain to myself. Why trouble yourself further, now they have been returned?” Roo hoped Lord Vasarius listened. Obviously the now-dead captain hadn’t implicated John, else he and Roo would already be dead men.

  Vasarius said, “My name was upon the box, Mr. Avery. Any man who saw it knew it to be my property. Any man who did not return it as you have done is a man without honor, a thief, and one who should be thrown to the animals in the arena, or tortured slowly.”

  Roo considered that he had been among those attempting to sell the stones and the only reason he had been distracted from that undertaking was the murder of his father-in-law. He maintained an indifferent manner. “Well, m’lord, perhaps that is as it should be, but now that you have those gems back, at least that portion of the affront has been somewhat lessened.”

  “Somewhat,” agreed Roo’s host as the servants began bringing out the evening meal. “As I haven’t been able to find those others besides the captain who insulted my honor, it may be a moot point.”

  Roo sat motionless, hoping against hope that was the case, as he was served by young men and women, all attractive by any measure. Whatever other vices Lord Vasarius might have, it was clear he enjoyed the beauty of youth on every hand.

  For all the splendor of the setting, Roo found the fare at Lord Vasarius’s table rather plain. Fruits and wine were served, and some flat bread with butter and honey, but the cheese was bland, the wine unspectacular, and the lamb over cooked. Still, Roo dined as if it were the finest meal he had ever tasted; the gods knew he had eaten far worse with gusto in his soldiering days.

  There was almost no conversation over dinner, and Roo caught a few meaningful glances pass between Livia and her father. Jimmy seemed bored, but Roo knew he was noting every detail he could. When at last the meal came to an end, Vasarius leaned forward and summoned a servant bearing a tray with a goblet and metal cups.

  Roo found the notion of drinking brandy from a metal cup odd, as a metallic taste was imparted to the drink, but he ignored it, being nothing of the wine purist most people born in Ravensburg were. Besides, not offending his host was far more critical.

  Vasarius raised his goblet, said, “To your health,” and drank.

  Roo did as well and said, “You’re most kind.”
>
  Vasarius said, “Now, to the matter of what you expect in repayment for returning my property to me, Mr. Avery.”

  Roo said, “I expect no repayment, m’lord. I merely wished for an opportunity to visit Queg and explore the possibility of trade.”

  Vasarius regarded Roo a moment. “When I received your letter,” he said, “I was inclined to believe it another plot by Lord James to infiltrate our state. His predecessor was a clever man and again, by half, but James is a demon incarnate.” Roo glanced at Jimmy to see if he was reacting to his grandfather’s being described that way, but Jimmy maintained a façade of indifference that suited his pose as Roo’s personal secretary. “I am willing to put that by, as your reputation precedes you. To return those rubies is of little consequence to a man of your wealth, Mr. Avery, but gaining a trading liaison in Queg, now that is something worth the price of such baubles.”

  Vasarius sipped his brandy, then asked, “Do you know much of my people, Mr. Avery?”

  “Little, I’m afraid,” admitted Roo. In fact, he had attempted to study as much about the Quegans as possible, but he felt feigning ignorance was far better for his own purposes.

  Livia spoke in the Quegan dialect. “If you’re going to give a history lesson, Father, may I be excused. These barbarians sicken me.”

  In Quegan, Lord Vasarius replied, “Barbarians or not, they are guests. If you’re bored, take the young secretary and show him the garden. He’s pretty enough to be diverting. There’s a chance he might know a trick that’s new even to you.” His tone hid nothing of his disapproval; it would have been evident even if Roo and James didn’t speak the language used.

  Vasarius turned to Roo. “Forgive my daughter’s lapse of manners, but speaking the King’s Tongue is not something we do often here. It was only her teacher who insisted she learn the languages of our neighbors.”

  “He was a Kingdom-born slave,” supplied the girl. “I think the son of some nobleman or another. So he claimed.” To Jimmy she said, “Business bores me. Would you care to see the garden?”

  Jimmy nodded, excused himself, and left Roo and Vasarius alone.

  The lord of the house continued, “Most of those outside our borders know little of us. We are all that is left of a once proud and great tradition, the true inheritors of all that was once Great Kesh.”

  Roo nodded as if hearing this for the first time.

  “We were founded as an outpost of the Empire, Mr. Avery. This is important. We were not a colony, as was Bosania, what you know as the Free Cities and the Far Coast, or a conquered people, as were those of the Jal-Pur or the Vale of Dreams. Those primitives who lived on this island were quickly absorbed by the garrison placed here to protect Keshian interests in the Bitter Sea.”

  Raped by the soldiers and getting half-breed children, thought Roo. He had no doubt that the men living here when the Keshians showed up were either killed or enslaved.

  “The garrison was pure Keshian, men from the Inner Legions. The reason I point this out to you is that you of the Kingdom have often treated with Kesh’s Dog Soldiers. Their leader was Lord Vax, fourth son of the Emperor of Great Kesh.

  “When the legion was called home to crush the rebellion in the Keshian Confederacy, he refused to abandon his people. This was Kesh, and Queg has endured as the sole repository of that great culture since the fall of Bosania to the Kingdom. Those who sit upon the Throne of the Overn Deep are a fallen people, Mr. Avery. They call themselves ‘True-blood,’ but they are a base and degenerate people.”

  He stared at Roo, awaiting a reaction. Roo nodded and sipped his brandy.

  Vasarius continued. “This is why we have few dealings with outsiders. We are mighty in culture, but otherwise we are a poor nation, surrounded on all sides by enemies.”

  In other circumstances, Roo would have burst out laughing, as that phrase had been repeated to him so often it was something of a joke. But in the midst of this splendor, Roo understood. While there were many things of beauty, one couldn’t eat marble or gold. You had to trade. Yet this was a nation of people who distrusted, even feared outsiders.

  Roo considered his words. “One must be careful with whom one is trading.” He waited, then said, “Else one must consider the risk of contamination.”

  Vasarius nodded. “You are very perceptive for . . . an outsider.”

  Roo shrugged. “I am a businessman, first and foremost, and while I have been lucky, I have also had to live by my wits. I would not be here if I didn’t sense an opportunity for mutual gain.”

  “We do not permit many to trade in Queg, Mr. Avery. In the history of our people there have been fewer than a dozen such concessions granted, and all have been to merchants in the Free Cities or from Durbin. Never has a Kingdom merchant been permitted such a privilege.”

  Roo weighed his options. If this had been a Kingdom merchant or noble with whom he was speaking, he would have judged it time for a “gift,” as bribery was part of doing business. But there was something about this man that warned him away from making such an offer. After a moment he said, “I would be content to remain in Krondor and let my Quegan partner conduct the business at this end. I am a shipper, and a . . . cooperation with a Quegan of rank and influence would be beneficial. Also, there are cargoes that are difficult to secure anywhere else than Queg.”

  Vasarius leaned forward, his voice dropping. “You surprise me. I assumed you wanted to establish a presence here in Queg, Mr. Avery.”

  Roo shook his head. “I would be quickly disadvantaged by your local businessmen, I am certain. No, I need the sure hand and practiced intelligence of a man known in Queg for his perspicacity and wisdom. Such a man would benefit from such an arrangement, as would I.”

  Roo fell silent. Vasarius knew what he had to offer. He could bring in foodstuffs to make this the most lavish table in Queg. Wines unmatched in all the world. Silks from Kesh for his daughter and mistresses. Luxury items that these people obviously craved.

  Roo glanced around the room. He knew why these buildings were marble: there was abundant marble on Queg. Wood was scarce. Most of the arable land had been cleared centuries ago for crops. Sheep were the livestock of choice, as you got more meat for less grass than with cattle. Everything about this meal tonight spoke of a people who had prospered, but at a price. No, Queg smelled ripe for imported luxury items from the Kingdom.

  Vasarius said, “What do you offer?”

  Roo said, “Almost anything you can imagine, m’lord.” He paused, then he said, “Luxuries, rarities, and novelties.” Vasarius didn’t blink. Roo spoke again. “Lumber, coal, and beef.” A spark ignited in Vasarius’s eyes, and Roo knew he was now an equal player in this game. He felt a warm tingle of success begin to spread inside him; Roo was in his element. It was time to haggle.

  Vasarius said, “What cargo would you wish to secure?”

  “Well, as a matter of fact I have a commission, which, should I fulfill it, would be a great beginning to any such trading association.”

  “What do you seek to buy?”

  “Fire oil.”

  Vasarius blinked. It was the most overt reaction Roo had witnessed so far, and he knew that this was a man he didn’t want to face in a card game. But he knew he had surprised him.

  “Fire oil?”

  “Yes, I’m sure your intelligence has told you the Kingdom is preparing for war.” He slipped into the speech James had had him memorize. “Kesh moves along the Vale again, and we fear it seeks to invade. With a new Prince in Krondor and no practiced General leading the Armies of the West, it would be prudent to equip as well as possible. We are training additional men for the Prince’s army and seek to bolster our defenses with fire oil. We know how to produce it, as I am sure you’re aware; it’s no longer a secret. But we lack facilities to produce it in sufficient volume to provide any viable amount.”

  “How much do you desire?”

  “Ten thousand barrels.”

  Roo watched and again there were flickers in the
man’s eyes: shock, followed almost at once by greed. Roo reconsidered, and wondered if he could get this man into a game of cards.

  4

  Relationships

  Dash laughed.

  Jimmy said, “And then I asked, ‘Are the red bulbs more difficult to cultivate than the yellow?’ ”

  Owen Greylock, Knight-Captain of the Prince’s Army of the West, said, “You came close to a personal insult, James.”

  Jimmy smiled. “In that strange land, what I said was far more important than what I meant.” He took another drink from his ale. “I might have found the girl attractive in different circumstances, but her contempt for me simply because I came from another land . . . it made any notion of romance impossible.”

  Roo said, “Well, you didn’t seem to have any problems with that young serving girl later that night.”

  Jimmy smiled. “I thought you were asleep.”

  Roo shook his head. “I was, but you woke me up. I decided it was less awkward to feign sleep. Besides, I’ve had friends coupling a few feet away before, in camp.” He glanced at Erik.

  Kitty, who had been standing behind Roo, filling ale tankards, said, “Oh?” in a meaningful tone, then turned and walked away.

  Roo laughed, and so did the others as Erik began to blush. “What’s this, then?” asked Duncan Avery. “Something going on between you two?”

  Erik said, “Not that I’m aware of.” He glanced at Kitty’s retreating back. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

  “Think so?” said Jadow Shati. “Man, there either is or there isn’t. That’s simple enough even for someone as dim as you, and that’s the truth.”

  Erik stood up. “I guess. Excuse me.”

  Jadow laughed as Erik followed Kitty. The Sergeant from the Vale of Dreams said, “Man, if that boy was any dumber when it comes to women, we’d have to kill him to put him out of his misery.”

  Jimmy glanced at his brother, and Dash said, “I don’t know. Kitty’s a strange girl. I think she just . . . likes having someone solid around.”