The Hag's Contract

Three

From the east watchtower, Harlmut the Steward gazed down at the city he ruled in King Graben’s name and wondered what it would be like to live here under Parniel Bowspear’s rule. Not much different, he thought. The lives of the twenty thousand men, women, and children who lived in the city surrounding Castle Graben would scarcely be affected. The weavers would be busy for a season or two, putting Bowspear’s face on all the tapestries and wall-hangings, and the cooks would enjoy a few more celebratory feasts than usual. Of course, some people—himself included—would quietly disappear. Otherwise …

He sighed. It had all become a matter of time. These days he spent his hours watching, waiting, and trying to hold on to power as Parniel Bowspear deftly forged secret alliances designed to win him the throne. The king’s last few loyal spies had just brought word of secret agreements with Haltengabben, the woman who controlled the Night Walkers and the Temple of Ela. If she backed Bowspear openly, most of the king’s men would follow. And why not? King Graben had been gone nearly two years now. These people wanted a stronger hand than he could provide. The best he could hope for would be maintaining the status quo until he found some way to ransom King Graben back or the king escaped on his own.

The wind ruffled Harlmut’s long gray hair, and he swept it back with one hand. How he longed for the simpler days, when King Graben himself sat on the throne and made the decisions. Back then he had enjoyed his work. As steward, his only duties had been to keep the castle’s household running, manage the stores and provisions, and keep King Graben’s schedule. Now, acting in the king’s name, he did all that and more.

Although nearly sixty, Harlmut had the keen eyesight of a man a third his age. Leaning his elbows on the parapet, he studied the longboat that had just pulled up to the docks below. He had thought Bowspear mad when he’d dragged an old longboat, of all things, from one of the storage sheds, but the mission’s success spoke volumes about the correctness of that decision. Harlmut had half hoped Bowspear would return empty-handed. It might have forestalled the conflict to come. Now, flushed with his recent successes, Bowspear could move as quickly as he wanted. The end would almost certainly come within half a month.

A bearded man in long green robes got off the longboat. Harlmut drew in a sudden breath and leaned out another foot, straining to see. A hostage … or a passenger? He squinted. Bowspear didn’t seem to be treating the stranger like a prisoner. He seemed almost… deferential. Why?

It could mean only more trouble for the king. Frowning, Harlmut stood and straightened his heavy black and gold tunic, brushing dust from his elbows. Bowspear and the stranger had started up the road toward Castle Graben. Harlmut turned to go. He would have to be in the king’s audience hall when they arrived.

Bowspear provided the wizard with a running commentary on the city of Alber and the kingdom of Grabentod as they walked up the narrow dirt road toward the castle, but Candabraxis only half listened. The pirate captain was trying too hard to be pleasant and likable. Clearly the wizard had arrived at a time when his presence might tip the balance in some power struggle, and Bowspear hoped to win his support. The more time they spent together, though, the less Candabraxis liked the pirate captain.

“… almost eighty years ago, Ulrich Graben, a great warrior, led a fleet from the Zweilunds and settled his people here,” Bowspear was saying. “I can trace my own family back to Antilen Bowspear, who served as his first officer….”

The wizard felt little interest in local politics. He had a larger and vastly more interesting puzzle before him. Grabentod still seemed all too familiar. How? How could he possibly know this place if he had never set foot here before? He’d heard ancient tales of reincarnation, but no wizard worthy of the name paid much attention to them. And yet … the buildings, the faces, the very streets cried out in silent recognition. He had been here before. Somehow, in some way, he had been here before.

“… and some say Ulrich made an unholy pact with the Hag for the power to free his land from orog and goblin tribes,” Bowspear said, “but I don’t put much store by that, myself. Now—”

“The Hag?” Candabraxis interrupted, frowning. “Ah yes, a minor awnshegh. I’ve read of her.”

She had a rather bizarre history, as he recalled. She had originally come from this area, long before it had been called Grabentod, and she’d married into the Drachenward royal family. Following the death of her husband, she had been sent home in disgrace. Before she left, though, she kidnapped a young girl, the heir to the Drachenward throne.

After that, even her homeland would have none of her. She had eventually fled into the mountains, and there she had gradually changed into the Hag, as her true evil nature and her bloodline asserted themselves. The neighboring nations had been at war ever since, sometimes openly and sometimes not.

“There’s nothing minor about the Hag,” Bowspear said, making a sign of aversion. “Everyone here has been touched by her evil in some way.”

“Oh? Does she bother Grabentod much?” he asked.

“We’ve heard nothing of her in nearly a year,” Bowspear said, “thanks be to Neira. Now, as I was saying, Castle Graben was built fifty years ago on the foundations of the old castle, when the old king brought in stonemasons from Aulbrunn …”

They were nearly to the castle’s gates. A pair of pikemen snapped to attention, and Bowspear gave them a casual salute without missing a word in his history lecture. Through the gates, they passed into a large courtyard paved with red and green flagstones. Huge double doors led into a large hall directly in front of them; stables stood far to the right and, to the left, sat a large smithy. Steel clanged on steel as the blacksmith, a tall barrel-chested man with a chestnut beard and a huge leather apron, worked on horseshoes with several apprentices.

“The king’s steward is named Lan Harlmut,” Bowspear said, heading for the main hall. Apparently the history lecture was over. “He’s a fair enough man, but lacking in vision.”

“Surely that’s one of the characteristics of a good regent,” Candabraxis commented dryly. “A greater man, or a lesser one, might well have designs on this kingdom.”

Bowspear shot him a strange look, as though uncertain how to take that.

Good, Candabraxis thought smugly. Let him worry. This Harlmut the Steward sounded more and more like the sort of man who deserved his support.

Harlmut sat patiently on the king’s high, stone throne, waiting for Bowspear and the man in green robes to appear. He had never felt entirely at ease sitting here, in the audience chamber, but it came with the job. He stared at the rich tapestries hanging on the walls, studied the amber flames licking at the logs in the huge fireplace to his left, and felt a creeping depression at what would come next.

Half a dozen commoners had been standing off to one side, patiently awaiting the chance to have an audience with him. He gave a quick nod to the guard, who escorted the first two—a pair of common sailors—to stand before him. Might as well get it over with, he thought.

He pulled himself up to his fullest height. “What brings you before me?” he demanded, trying his best to sound authoritative.

“Sir …” said the first, and he launched into a convoluted tale, interrupted frequently with embellishments by the second, of how they’d both seen a small trunk washed up on shore. Now each one wanted to claim it for himself.

Greed, Harlmut reflected, seemed to motivate everyone around him. The trunk had undoubtedly been dumped overboard by a merchant ship to prevent its being taken by the Grabentod Raiders. This sort of thing happened once or twice a year. It was the Grabentod Raiders’ standard procedure to burn ships they caught playing such tricks, so it happened less and less.

“What did you find in the trunk?” he asked, imagining silks, rare spices, or jewelry.

The two glanced at each other. “We ain’t opened it yet,” the first one admitted. They were probably afraid it would lead to bloodshed, Harlmut realized, and so they were trying to resolve ownership beforehand.

“Why not divide the contents between you?” he asked.

“What if there’s only one thing of value?” the second said. “Seems to me, since I saw it first—”

“I saw it first,” the other said sharply.

“Silence!” Harlmut shouted. Disputes such as this one sapped his patience and his strength. He didn’t know how King Graben managed to hold court year after year without going mad. Already he felt a severe headache beginning to develop. “Where is the trunk now?” he demanded.

“Outside,” the first sailor said, cowed, “with your guards.”

“Very well,” Harlmut said, “I have made my decision. The chest is to be opened in the courtyard by one of the king’s men. Because you could not settle this matter yourselves, half the contents are forfeit to King Graben. The other half will be divided equally between you. If it’s a single item of value, as you suspect, you will be compensated from the royal treasury for your shares.”

“But—” the second one began, with a shocked look on his face.

“That’s my decision,” Harlmut snapped. “Would you rather the royal treasury confiscate the whole trunk and all its treasure?”

“N-No sir!”

“Then get out of my sight, and don’t bring trivialities to me again!”

Bowing, they hastily backed away. The guard escorted them out.

They had looks of actual fear on their faces, Harlmut thought, a little awed at himself. He seldom spoke to anyone in such tones. Today, with everything unraveling about him, he couldn’t muster the patience to deal with petty bickering. Perhaps some good would come of it, though. Next time, they’d try to settle matters themselves rather than lose half of their disputed treasure to the king.

Frowning, Harlmut turned his gaze to the other four supplicants waiting to see him.

“Who’s next?” he demanded.

The following pair in line—more sailors—muttered excuses and edged toward the door. The two shopkeepers waiting behind them followed suit. A dozen heartbeats later, Harlmut sat alone, with just the guards by the door and a few servants sweeping the floor. Just as well, he thought. If he had a confrontation with Parniel Bowspear coming, he would be better off facing it alone. Enough rumors surrounded him already, without commoners carrying more back to Alber’s taverns.

Suddenly the main doors flew open and Bowspear swaggered in with a wide, triumphant grin on his face. That grin always meant trouble. Harlmut shifted uncomfortably on the throne and tried to look more confident than he felt.

“I take it you met with success,” the king’s steward said.

“That we did, Harlmut.” Bowspear had made it a habit never to address him as “regent” or “sir.” It was a deliberate slight, Harlmut knew, but he always let it pass. Fight the battles you can win, King Graben had always said. “We took a rich merchant’s cargo as prize. I will be dividing shares tonight, if you want to come.”

“No need,” Harlmut said. “As a sworn king’s man, I know you’ll do your duty by the royal tithe.” He swept his gaze up and beyond Bowspear to the bearded stranger, as if noticing him for the first time. “I see you brought a guest back with you.”

“Aye,” Bowspear said, and his grin grew larger, if that were possible. This man had to be truly dangerous, Harlmut realized. “I want you to meet a friend, a powerful wizard from Velenoye.”

A wizard, Harlmut thought, and he tried to stifle his surprise. No wonder Bowspear felt so cocky. With a wizard backing his grab for power …

“From Suiriene, actually,” the wizard said, stepping forward and bowing low to Harlmut. His voice was far softer than Harlmut had expected. “I came by way of Velenoye, where I spent my apprenticeship and journeyman years. My name is Ythril Candabraxis. I am honored to be here, Regent Harlmut.”

“As we are honored to have you as our guest, Candabraxis.” Harlmut studied him thoughtfully. Candabraxis seemed young and a trifle hesitant for a wizard. The few whom Harlmut had interviewed, trying to persuade them to take up residence in Grabentod, had struck him as egotistical and self-important. Perhaps Candabraxis would not prove quite so dangerous after all.

“What brings you to our kingdom?” he asked.

The wizard told him sketchily of his first sight of Grabentod and how it had stirred memories within him. He had come, he said, to learn what had called him here.

Harlmut nodded, intrigued. “You have no definite plans here, then?” he asked, leaning forward. Bowspear had begun to look faintly uneasy. “You had not meant to come to our shores?”

“No,” Candabraxis said firmly. “I was bound for Müden in hopes of finding a patron.”

“Then you must, of course, stay in the castle while you investigate. Winter is coming, and the seas will soon be closed to ships. We have a suite in the northern tower. I’m told it would be ideal for a wizard. I’m certain that spending the winter months here is more advisable than continuing on to Müden.”

Candabraxis nodded. “Yes … I think I would like that, Regent. I am indebted for your hospitality.”

Harlmut deigned to notice the displeased glances Bowspear had been giving Candabraxis.

“Are you ill, Captain?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bowspear said through clenched teeth.

“You’re not looking well,” Candabraxis said, turning to face him. “If you’d like, I would be happy to try another spell…?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bowspear said stiffly.

“It’s no great effort, I assure you,” the wizard said with a smile.

“No,” Bowspear said, more strongly.

“Perhaps you should take your leave of us now, Captain,” Harlmut said, rising. He gazed down at Bowspear and felt a new confidence. “I believe you have shares to divide up? I will see to settling Wizard Candabraxis into his suite. After we have tea, of course.”

“My men won’t have finished unloading yet,” Bowspear protested.

“Then why don’t you see what’s holding them up,” Harlmut said, stepping down and taking the wizard’s elbow. “I will proclaim a feast in Candabraxis’s honor. You will attend, of course, Captain.” He deliberately made it a statement rather than a question.

“Of course,” Bowspear said curtly.

“There is still the matter of my baggage,” Candabraxis began hesitantly. “If I’m to stay here—”

“Captain Bowspear will see to it.”

“I’ll have it brought here,” Bowspear said.

“Good.” Harlmut gently steered Candabraxis toward one of the smaller rooms at the back of the main hall. He felt a flash of triumph. This was the first time he’d had the last word with Bowspear in months. Now he and the wizard could have a quiet chat.

He opened a door into the room that had been King Graben’s private office. The walls had been paneled with Grabentod oak, and hunting trophies—the heads of deer, elk, and other animals— hung beside military banners, swords, shields, and other spoils of war. A heavy oak desk to one side held papers—cargo manifests, land grants, and other business Harlmut worked on late at night. Thank goodness he had never married, he thought, or there wouldn’t have been enough hours in the day.

“Please,” he murmured to Candabraxis, gesturing toward one of the two deep, comfortable chairs beside the fieldstone fireplace. He stirred the logs with a poker, and soon amber flames rose. Once the wizard had seated himself, he said, “I prefer tea in the winter months, but you might prefer something else. We have warm spiced ale, mulled apple cider—”

“Tea is fine,” Candabraxis said.

Harlmut rang a bell, and a second later a boy appeared in the doorway. He ordered their drinks, then joined the wizard by the fire.

“About Captain Bowspear …” Candabraxis began.

Harlmut sighed. Already it came to that. The tension between the two of them would have been palpable to one as well trained and powerful as a wizard. No doubt Candabraxis had already sized up the situation and guessed the problems Harlmut faced.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “There is no love between us, as I’m sure you noticed. Just as you no doubt already know that King Graben is a prisoner of Müden’s royal marines.”

“And that Bowspear wants to be king.”

“He said that?” Harlmut leaned forward eagerly. If so, and if Candabraxis would act as witness, he could arrest Bowspear for treason. Bowspear had always been careful with his plans in the past, but if he’d made a mistake here—

Candabraxis was shaking his head, though. “No, but I could see it easily enough. He is a man of great ambition.”

“And greater luck.” Harlmut sank back into the other chair. “He is by far the most successful of Grabentod’s Raiders. And his men—and half the city—worship him.”

“I remain curious, though. It seems to me that this whole situation could be resolved with King Graben’s return.”

“True,” Harlmut said, nodding.

“And according to Bowspear, you’re completely loyal to King Graben. So why haven’t you ransomed your king back?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” Harlmut forced a laugh. “Müden doesn’t want our money. They could buy and sell all of Grabentod from their household accounts without noticing. What they want is safe passage for their ships.”

“Yet clearly they don’t have it.”

“No.” The steward shrugged helplessly. “We simply cannot afford to give Müden safe passage. Our economy is based on raiding—it would collapse without it. I cannot allow our people to starve. As you can see, it is a difficult situation.”

“I’m sure Müden feels the same way. But surely something can be done. Have you explored other options?”

“Exhaustively.” Harlmut sighed and shook his head. He’d spent the first year of King Graben’s imprisonment sending proposal after proposal to Müden. All had been rebuffed. “No success.”

“Perhaps you could trade someone for him….”

“I’ve thought of that, too,” Harlmut said. “None of Müden’s important merchant princes are careless enough to venture within reach of our ships. Hired captains, young nobles, those we catch aplenty—and all the while Müden’s ruling merchants sit in their palaces and count their money.”

“Still,” the wizard mused, “there must be someone.

Müden’s bloodlines have connections far across Cerilia. Perhaps another suitable person can be found. I have a copy of Morweit’s Peerage. I will study the problem for you and let you know what I find.”

“Then you truly will remain in the castle as my guest?”

The wizard chuckled, a light and pleasant sound to Harlmut’s ears. “What you mean to ask,” Candabraxis said, “is whether I’ve accepted Bowspear’s patronage.”

“Since you put it so bluntly—yes.”

“And I will be equally blunt. No, I have not accepted his patronage. But I do not think I will accept your king’s yet, either. At least, not until I meet him.”

Harlmut’s shoulders sank. “That may be a wise move,” he admitted. “According to my few loyal spies, Bowspear planned to seize power in the coming week. I could not have stopped him.”

“He will not try,” Candabraxis promised. Despite his soft voice and polite manners, Candabraxis was a man of deep morality, Harlmut saw. “At least, not while my loyalties are in doubt.”

Harlmut raised his eyes to meet the wizard’s gaze. The regent recognized a deep strength of character there, a sense of justice and propriety that mirrored his own. But such impressions were, perhaps, too fleeting to weigh in the balance against the ambitious pirate. Bowspear had been working toward his coup for years now.

“I wish I could be sure,” he murmured.