Lies of Light

26

3 Nightal, the Yearofthe Sword (1365 DR) Second Quarter, Innarlith

"Really, Willem, what in the diamond battlements of Trueheart do you have to be afraid of?” Marek Rymiit asked with a sibilant hiss to his accented voicehe pronounced Willem’s name as if it started with a V and not a W. The rotund wizard blinked, almost as though he was batting his eyelashes. “I mean, really. You are well and truly blessed.”

Willem swallowed and nodded, looking around the high-ceilinged room. Scattered about sat a number of crates. Hay had been piled in the corners, and canvas tarps had been spread over the scuffed wood floor.

“Willem?” the Thayan prompted.

“Yes,” Willem replied, still not looking Marek in the eye. “I am well and truly…” He paused to think, then risked:”… cared for.”

Marek laughed, and the sound was so light and so sincere that Willem was forced to smile.

“You know, of course, that I can help you,” Marek said as he crossed the room to one of the crates. “Please excuse the mess. We’ve only just begun to move in. Do you like it?”

Willem nodded, lying. The building was garish and overly large for one man, and he’d heard that Marek didn’t even intend to live there.

“I understand you’ll be keeping the house, too,” Willem said, as much just to make conversation to cover his nervousness than to verify the rumors.

“Of course,” the wizard replied as he dug through first one crate then another. “This is a place of business. From this compound, the finest in magical items will be made available to the fine people of Innarlith.”

Willem nodded, watching the man search apparently at random for the promised item, and asked, “It will be an embassy, too, I understand.”

Marek stopped and turned to regard him with a gaze that made Willem’s skin crawl.

Marek turned back to the next crate and continued his search, but just a little more slowly than before.

“It might one day serve a similar function,” said the Red Wizard. “I suppose it’s safe to consider this Thayan ground. But it’s not so much an embassy as an… an enclave. I am here not to influence, but to serve.”

“You influence anyway,” Willem said.

Marek chuckled and stopped rooting around in the crate. When he turned he held a small box of polished maple and wore a warm grin.

“When I am asked a question,” the wizard said, “I answer. When my opinion is sought out, I oblige. If I influence, it is because I have made every effort to help, and always in the best interests of my adopted home.”

Willem smiled and nodded, but couldn’t help staring at the box. “Is that it?” he asked.

Marek glanced down at the box in his hand but said, “I understand you’ve had some success recently that has brought considerable coin to your personal coffers.”

Willem nodded.

“An apple orchard, of all things,” said the Thayan. “Really, Willem, my lad, I can’t possibly be asked to imagine you a farmer.”

“I’m no farmer,” he said. “There are tenants to tend the trees. I just…”

“Own it?” the Thayan prompted.

“I’ve been told that a senator must have an income,” Willem said. “I was encouraged to acquire land.”

“But at so meager a price,” Marek replied, “and for so rich a harvest.”

Willem shrugged, still staring at the box.

“You can afford more,” the wizard said with a wink. “This is… a trifle.”

“But it will do what I asked?” Willem asked. “It’ll do what I need it to do?”

The Thayan nodded and stepped forward, holding the box out. Willem took it, flinching when Marek touched the back of his hand with a cool, clammy fingertip. Willem fumbled the box a little, and almost dropped it. Marek placed it in his hand, and Willem snatched it away a bit too quickly for decorum’s sake. A brief glow passed through Marek’s eyes that made Willem’s breath catch in his throat.

They both released a breath together, and Willem opened the box.

“You have but to wear it,” Marek said.

Inside the box was a simple brooch of fine gold fashioned in the likeness of a heart held in the palm of a hand. Willem had seen better workmanship. There was nothing about the thing that seemed particularly special.

“And if I do?” Willem asked.

“You will bear up under the strain,” the Thayan explained with a smirk. “It will embolden you. You will not be so easily intimidated.”

Willem looked up at him, his jaw tense. Marek was surprised but showed it only for the briefest fraction of a heartbeat before smiling once more.

“It may even have some benefit where the fairer sex is concerned,” said Marek.

“What do you mean?” Willem asked, closing the box. “May I?”

Marek nodded and Willem put the box in the deep pocket of his weathercloak. From the same pocket he withdrew a purse heavy with coins.

“I mean that perhaps with its subtle influence you will finally be able to leave my niece in your wake,” the wizard explained.

Willem shivered. He looked at his hand, which held the purse out to Marek, and saw it shake.

Marek wrapped his sausage fingers around the bag of coins and said, “A thousand?”

“As we agreed,” Willem replied, letting his arm fall to his side. “So, with that I’ll-“

“Oh, bother,” Marek cut in, dropping the coin purse into one of the open crates. “Don’t be like that, my lad. You know of my fondness for Halina, and certainly your perpetually-impending nuptials would be a rare social event among the least imaginative of Innarlan society, but honestly, is she the best choice?”

“The only times I can remember feeling even the slightest bit happy have been in her presence,” Willem said. Sweat gathered at his hairline and under his arms. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much, especially to the Thayan. “But my mother is of similar mind to you.”

“Ah, yes,” Marek replied. “And how fares the lovely Thurene?”

“She is well.”

“Just’well’?”

Willem shrugged. He didn’t know what else to say.

“She whispers a name in your ear, I’ll wager,” Marek said. “I know that the master builder has been, too, and for some time.”

Willem shook his head, hoping against hope that Marek wouldn’t say the name.

“I’m happy with Halina,” Willem said.

“And what of that?” asked the wizard. “Who are you to be happy?”

Willem looked him in the eye and shook his head. Had he heard the man correctly? “I’m…”Willem started.

“All men are equal,” the Thayan said. “We all have our roles to play in the gods’ great theater. Who are you to expect to be happy when so many suffer? So what if you love Halina? You should marry Phyrea. Her father wishes it, and so do many others in this citymany others who have been watching over you and will continue to watch over you both.”

“But…” Willem grunted. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to have the conversation Marek seemed intent on bullying him into.

“I’m sure you find the fair Phyrea pleasing to the eye,” said Marek.

Willem nodded, but said, “Will you forbid me from marrying your niece? Will you prevent me from seeing her?”

Willem had tried to keep that last from sounding like a plea, but he couldn’t help it. Anyway, Marek Rymiit was too intelligent and astute a listener not to have sensed it. Willem could see it written plainly in the Thayan’s sparkling eyes and uneven smile.

“I will do no such thing,” said Marek. “If you are dead set on embarking on a path pointed away from the goals you’ve worked so diligently to achieve, how could I presume to stop you?”

“Phyrea hates me,” Willem said.

“Wives hate their husbands, lad,” Marek replied.

“Before they’re even married?”

“Well…”

There was a heavy silence while Willem hoped he looked like he was thinking long and hard.

“Phyrea” Willem said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Marek smiled and said, “Wear the pin, son. It will help.”