[Mkguild] "Burning Time" pt. 6

[Nathan Pfaunmiller]

Last part...

__________________

            Lois walked through the halls of the inner keep without showing
any signs of hurry.  In reality, he had now been late to his audience with
the Duke for at least five minutes, but he had no reason to hurry things up..
Besides, he needed time to steady himself so that he could deliver an
appropriate address to the Duke when he was called upon to explain his
desire to enter the Keep as a citizen.



            The dull pain from the wound on his back was, by now, something
absolutely familiar to Lois as he walked.  It still bothered him when he
turned too far or stood too straight, however, and he was going to be doing
either one or both of them during his audience.  He quietly composed
himself, readying for the pain he was sure would come when he bowed and
stood at attention.  There wasn’t much to be done for the pain; he only
hoped he wouldn’t pull out the stitching while speaking with the Duke.  Beyond
the obvious complication of having to sit through another tirade from Coe,
Lois was also worried that Lord Hassan would want an explanation for Lois
having blood showing through his clothing.



            Finally Lois let his mind settle on the audience chamber.  He
usually did his best to picture in his mind where he was trying to go, but
at the moment he had no idea what the audience chamber would look like, so
he simply thought of it as his hopeful destination.



            Before long, Lois found himself on the far end of a long hall
which ended in a pair of solid wooden doors, flanked on either side by a
guard.  Lois quickly took note of his surroundings, and was reasonably
certain that he could spot two or three more guards trying to hide out of
sight so that their visitor wouldn’t feel threatened.  Their first purpose
was a complete failure, as Lois had spotted them almost immediately, but
their second purpose was well served.  It was actually some comfort for Lois
to know that the Duke had a healthy amount of respect for his
reputation.  Evidently,
Andwyn had put in a good word for him…



            Lois stopped a few paces before he reached the guards.  They
both held polearms at their sides, but neither made a move to guard
themselves.  Lois took a step forward, though, and both of them crossed
their weapons across the doorway.



            “That strategy will easily backfire,” Lois commented drily.  “I’m
obviously not going to get in without going through you, but you’re guarding
the door and not yourselves.  The door does pretty well blocking me on its
own; you should focus more on defending yourselves, or I could take both of
you down and open the door quite easily.”



            The guards gave sideways glances to each other, but neither
changed their stance.  Lois just shrugged and continued forward until he
stood just before the two of them, in such a position that either one of
them would have to put himself woefully out of position to even move against
him.



            “Fortunately, I am not here to make any trouble,” Lois finally
continued.  “My name is Vincent Lois, the Duke is expecting me.”



            Lois held up the summons he had received.  It was notably
missing the seal from the bottom, but neither of the guards saw need to
comment on that fact.



            “We’ll need you to leave your weapons with us,” one of them
said.  Lois nodded, but instead of removing weapons from all over his
person, he simply handed the man a well-wrapped bundle.



            “I expected as much,” he said.  “I didn’t bring many weapons,
but what I have is in this bundle.  You may check me for further weapons if
you like, but I assure you that any effort you make will be wasted; I carry
no weapons to a peaceful audience.”



            The guards still searched him rather than trusting his word, but
no other weapon was found on his person, as he had promised.  Still, the
fact that they had bothered to check was testament to the fact that they
respected him as a threat.  Lois didn’t doubt that others received similar
treatment, but it did give him some faith that the Duke was not some pompous
noble who thought that his wealth was sufficient to protect him.



            Finally, the two guards opened the doors to the chamber, and
Lois stepped between them into the room beyond.



            It was well adorned, although not nearly as much as many other
places he had visited in the past.  The man that sat at the far end of the
room was dressed in fine clothing, but it lacked much of the frilly
adornment of which other nobles seemed so fond.  Lois noted this with
respect; he could understand a man who had wealth but didn’t use it on
unnecessary embellishment.



            The actual man that was dressed in that clothing was slightly
less comforting.  It sat like a nobleman, showing well-schooled posture in
its movements, but the appearance of the man was far from what one would
expect in someone of such powerful position.  The face of the Duke seemed to
be that of a horse for all intents and purposes, reflecting in his gaze the
rearing stallion emblazoned on his flag.  At the same time, the neck
connected to the body in the wrong way for him to be a mere animal, and
almost all of the mannerisms were human, from the subtle, keen gaze of a man
that was sizing up the man in front of him, to the light drumming of the
hard fingernails of his right hand on the arm of the modest throne he sat
in.  The only noticeably equine mannerism that Lois could detect was the
occasional rustle of the robe’s cloth as a long, regal stallion’s tail
turned back and forth in nearly-controlled nervousness.



            Lois finally came to a stop in front of the Duke of Metamor.  The
audience hall was not very long, but he had taken it slowly, measuring his
steps carefully so he would have enough time to take in the picture before
arriving.  He stood there for a moment, making firm eyes contact with the
stallion and gave a respectful bow.  It was not so shallow as to be
disrespectful, but neither was it deep enough to suggest a man who submitted
only for the favor it gained him.



            “Milord,” was the one word he spoke, and then he stood and
waited for the Duke of Metamor to address him.



            “Vincent Lois,” the Duke said.  His speech was very human in
tone and inflection, with just a hint of something that might have been an
accent.  There was very little there that would have given away his form,
however, and Lois noted the fact with satisfaction.



            “You’re somewhat late,” the Duke continued, bringing Lois back
from his reverie.



            “My apologies,” Lois responded.  He gave a short bow of the head
to go with the apology, a gesture quietly but definitely acknowledged by the
equine Duke.  “I have never truly been here before, so I was not certain how
to think for Kyia to bring me here.”



            “I assure you, it is not the first time this has happened,” the
Duke said, equine lips twitching with some mirth.  “I have had audiences
delayed by hours by similar complications.”



            Lois laughed politely along with the Duke, although he kept his
tones subdued.  He usually only laughed for the intimidation factor, so he
had to concentrate to take the edge of harshness from his voice.  Evidently
the Duke didn’t notice any special effort, as he carried on directly with no
comment.



            “Very well, then.  Do you understand why you are here?”



            “I believe so, sire,” Lois said.  “If I am not mistaken, I am
here about the issue of my desire to make Metamor my home.”



            The Duke nodded slowly.  He leaned forward a little bit, arms
resting on the sides of the chair, strange, thick fingers threaded under an
equally strange equine head.  “I am sure you know that I have my doubts,” he
continued.  “Your reputation preceded you, and it is one that makes many
wary of your presence here.”



            “Not the least of which was your loyal spymaster, Andwyn,” Lois
noted.  He turned his head to look at the bat, who had secured himself to
the decorative architecture under one of the pillars that lined the
room.  “Rest
assured, you need not lay awake wondering if he will kill you someday.”



            “You, however, are a different story,” the Duke noted, tapping
his chin with hoof-like fingernails.  Andwyn, now that he was obviously
discovered, dropped from the ceiling in a swoop, landing beside the Duke,
who showed no reaction.  “You’ve killed many men, including men in positions
of power such as myself.”



            “Note the implication of past action,” Lois responded.  “I was
that man, a fact of which I am immensely proud and immensely ashamed at
once.  Proud, to have been the bane of many a black-hearted tyrant during my
work.  Ashamed, to have killed many a good man because he had made enemies
with too much coin.  Regardless, it has been many years since the last time
I performed an assassination.  I am, for all intents and purposes, retired.”



            “You’ve lost none of your talent, though, that much we can see
by your displays of acrobatics on the rooftops and the training field.”  The
Duke sat back again, although he kept his fingers steepled in front of him.
“That creates lingering concern, regardless of your claims of loyalty.  Please
understand, I would like nothing better than to be able to know for sure
that you are honest.  I am, however, dealing with a man whose life’s work
hinged on being dishonest.”



            Lois nodded.  “It would be a foolish course of action to fully
trust such a man,” he commented.



            “You do realize that we are talking about you, don’t you?” the
Duke asked with a slight smile.



            “The key to defeating your enemy is to know your enemy.  The key
to knowing your enemy is to understand yourself, your motives, everything
about you.  I understand that I am not exactly the most trustworthy of
people; few people in my former line of work are very trustworthy.”



            “Then you do understand my reluctance to admit you to this Keep
as a citizen,” the Duke said.



            “Your reluctance, yes,” Lois confirmed.  “I hope that the
reluctance will not translate into refusal, however.  I believe that Andwyn
told you when he reported to you that I gave him the message that I was
willing to be locked in the dungeons until the Curse took me.  The offer
stands; if you have your men come here and arrest me, I will not resist.”



            The Duke nodded slowly, even as Lois held both of his hands out
as if expecting to be shackled immediately.  “You may relax, Lois.  As I
remember, you have already been here for quite a good bit of time, so the
Curse should not be too long in the coming for you.  For the time being,
consider your application for citizenship to be accepted.  Kyia should be
kind enough to provide you with quarters adequate to your needs within the
walls of the upper Keep.  Know this, however: If we find that you have, in
any way, been involved in anything questionable, it will be investigated
and, if enough evidence is given, you will be removed from the Keep,
regardless of how the Curse may affect you.”



            Lois bowed his head respectfully.  “I could expect no better
consideration from you.  I thank you for honoring my request,” he said in a
respectful tone.



            The more nitty-gritty business of officially securing
citizenship was rather quickly dispensed with, and Lois soon found himself
walking down the hallways of the inner Keep, unable to focus on anything
because of the buzzing in his head.  Before he could calm his mind enough to
focus on leaving the Keep, though, he turned a corner and found himself
staring at a wooden door, cut out with remarkable perfection so that he
could walk through without stooping, yet not much higher than it had to be.
Inscribed on the door was a very familiar name, and Lois touched it and ran
his fingers across it gently.



            “Vincent Lois,” he read to himself.  As he spoke the words, it
seemed to him that the letter faded, and then the door was plain again.  “Well
then, I suppose this will be my new home.”



            He reached for the door, but then lowered his hand.  “Not yet,”
he mumbled.  “I shall return when my Curse is completed.”  With that, he
left, walking down the halls and once more focusing on the lower keep.  Behind
him, the letters on the door once more appeared, identifying it once again
so Lois would be able to remember it later.



                                    *                      *
*                      *



            Thomas leaned back in the throne he used for audiences, grateful
for the copious amount of padding it possessed.  At this point, he needed
anything he could get to help him relax.



            “What do you think of him, milord?” Andwyn asked quietly.



            “I think we need more time and a much more careful observation
to know for sure.  Lois will go on his patrol, and his squad-mates will be
watching him for any behavior not fitting a scout of Metamor.”  Thomas
looked over at the spy.  “I also think that we need to find some way to stay
out of sight.  He noticed you; I fully expect that he could have noticed
anyone else that might be following him from day to day.”



            Andwyn nodded.  “It is a very interesting predicament, sir, to
be honest.  Lois is good at reading signs other than sight to make his
assessments of situations.  Even if we put men under illusions to watch him,
and even if we could hold the illusion for long enough to get anything done,
there is nothing to say that he wouldn’t notice something out of place.”



            Thomas sighed and rubbed the side of his head with his hand.  “If
you have any appropriately morphed Keepers at your disposal, you might try
having a few watch him from full morph,” he suggested.



            Andwyn nodded.  “We have already begun exploring such
possibilities,” he said.  “Eventually, though, it may just come down to us
trusting him enough to let him off of the leash.”



            “We may be waiting a while for that.”



                                    *                      *
*                      *



<i>December 29, 707 CR</i>



            Lois grunted quietly while Coe worked with the stitches in his
back.  The healer mumbled as he worked, but nothing Lois had heard him say
seemed to have anything to do with the context of his work.  The former
assassin wondered to himself if the healer found his work anywhere near as
distasteful as he himself did, and if perhaps his mumbling had anything to
do with getting his mind off of his work.



            “You’re a quick healer,” Coe finally commented.  “The injury is
still very fresh, and the healing process is nowhere near complete, but
removing the stitches should be safe for now.  You’ll need to keep it under
a bandage for a while.  Could be… anywhere from two weeks down to a day or
two, depending how long the Curse takes to get to you.”



            Lois grunted again, this time in affirmation, and gave a short
nod.  The Curse held an ever-growing tension for him.  It was coming soon,
and he knew it.  He had little to do but wait, now.  Fortunately, years of
experience had finely honed his patience, and he put it to use now.



            “Have you given the Curse much thought?” the healer asked
presently.



            “Have I given it much though?” Lois echoed.  “I am being healed
by a raccoon, and you ask me if I have given it much thought.”



            The healer smiled and shook his head.  “I was referring to your
own Curse, Lois.  Have you given any thought to what you would like to
become?”



            Lois shrugged, and winced immediately as he did, leading to a
stern prodding from one of the healer’s claws.  “Really, the chances are not
in my favor if I start wishing on stars about what I’ll become.  I’d like it
to be an animal Curse, certainly.  I cannot imagine what it would be like to
fight as a woman or a child, especially not in my style.  Of course, that
brings up the entire issue of what animal I might become, and there are
quite a good number that would have the same or worse effects on my combat
style.”



            “Not that I would be suffering at all by not having to see you
for a while longer,” Coe commented.



            “I suppose I would like to be something fast, flexible, nimble.
Then again, I would like something that would allow me to switch between
fighting styles as I do now.”  Lois shrugged.  “Well, regardless, I’ll take
what I get.”



            “It’s what we all did,” Coe commented.  “Of course, for some of
us, there really wasn’t really enough anticipation to do any speculation at
all.  I was working at the time the Curse was cast.  I thought I was going
to lose my patient, and I was not happy.  The Curse came through, and I only
have foggy memories of what came next.  Next thing I knew, it was like I was
waking up, huddled in a corner of the infirmary and shaking like a leaf.  Seems
the patient I had been working on had been fully healed when he was Cursed,
and he had been trying to hunt me throughout the infirmary.”  The healer
snickered.  “Sort of ironic.  One moment I’m there healing a man I think is
going to die, the next he’s up and trying to kill me.”



            “No gratitude whatever,” Lois responded, grinning sarcastically.
The doctor was just finishing up removing the stitches, and Lois turned a
little bit so he could see the healer’s face a bit.  “You know what would be
really ironic, though?”



            The healer shook his head without saying another word.



            “It would be ironic if I turned into a woman and came in here
trying to seduce you,” Lois finished.



            The healer cuffed him soundly across the side of his face, just
hard enough to turn his head a little bit.  Lois laughed through it, even as
Coe began roughly securing a bandage over the injured area.



            “Here,” Coe said, stepping around in front of Lois and handing
him a roll of bandages.  “I don’t know how much of this you will need, but
do try to keep the wound clean and freshly bandaged.  I don’t need you
coming in here half-dead with an infection before the Curse takes you.”



            “Right.”  Lois took the bandages and jumped down from the table
he had been sitting on.  He pulled his shirt back over his head, followed
closely by his winter coat.



            “And Lois?” Coe continued, speaking without raising his eyes
from his next task.  “Don’t ever try to put dirty thoughts in my head again.
Next time you do that, I’m sticking you with the nearest sharp instrument,
whether or not I’m really that distracted.”



            Lois shook his head and chuckled quietly as he left.  In
reality, he had no desire to find out what it was like to be a woman.  He
had enough adventures in his life, he didn’t need to have his reality turned
on his head to make it more interesting.



            Not that he had much choice in the matter.



            Lois left the infirmary and headed back to his room at the inn,
quietly wondering how long it would be until the Curse took him, and what it
would do to him when it did.


!DSPAM:4c5a39bc273751804284693!
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.integral.org/archives/mkguild/attachments/20100805/8f86b29f/attachment-0001.html>