Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

and insults from the crowds he passed. His masked associate flinched and jumped at every word. The soldiers finally ushered Mr. Sylvester into Douglas’s hotel room, while insisting the masked man stayed outside. The deal had been for one emissary only. Mr. Sylvester looked calmly about him, holding his great leonine head proudly high. He flicked his heavy velvet cloak back over his shoulders, to better show off his cloth-of-gold waistcoat, and smiled at the grim faces before him.
    “Dear Sirs and Madam, it is a pleasure and an honor to be here, in such august company. Douglas Campbell—legendary King of Thieves and hero in exile. Stuart Lennox—brave and canny Paragon from Virimonde. Finn sends his best wishes. Nina Malapert—beautiful star and vibrant personality of the rogue news sites.” Mr. Sylvester raised a painted eyebrow at the last man present. “And Tel Markham—my dear fellow. I had no idea. We all thought you were dead.”
    “I don’t die that easily,” Tel growled, sticking very close to Douglas, who sat in his chair as though it was a throne. Tel looked Mr. Sylvester over unhurriedly, and then sniffed loudly. “I can’t say I’m surprised Finn sent you, Sylvester. You always were good with words, especially when treachery was required. But I have to say, I barely recognized you. You’re carrying a lot of weight these days. Good eating at Finn’s table?”
    “Oh, always.” Mr. Sylvester patted the waistcoat straining over his great stomach contentedly. “You know me, Tel. I always land on my feet.”
    “I’m surprised you can still see them. And yes, I do know you, Sylvester. You lie like you breathe, and the truth is not in you. Who’s the masked man outside? You were told to come alone.”
    “A gift to the King, from Finn. But that can wait.” Mr. Sylvester turned the full force of his smile on Douglas. “My dear sir, I have the honor to represent the Emperor Finn, and am empowered by him to enter into all necessary agreements, on his behalf. My word shall be binding on him.”
    “Hold it right there, Mr. I-never-met-a-pie-I-didn’t-like,” said Tel, grinning harshly. “First, Douglas, you need to understand just who and what Mr. Sylvester is, and what he did, to you and your friends. This man forged letters and planted false files in computers, all to destroy the reputations of Lewis and Jesamine. He planted stories in the media, started whispering campaigns, and did everything he could to separate you from the people you trusted. Everything bad you ever heard about Lewis and Jesamine originated in this man.”
    Mr. Sylvester bowed modestly. “You’re too kind, Tel.”
    “Did you really do all that?” said Douglas, and his voice was dangerously cold and quiet.
    “Well, yes,” said Mr. Sylvester, studying Douglas uncertainly. “That is my work, my business, my calling. It wasn’t all that difficult. A letter here, a hidden file discovered there, and the whole picture of a man’s life can be changed. In Jesamine’s case all I had to do was exaggerate and make public already existing material. The Deathstalker was more of a challenge. There was so very little to work with. Good and honest and noble . . . boring, boring. But in the end, that actually helped; people are always ready to believe the worst of those who seem to be better than they are.”
    “Was none of it true?” said Douglas. “All the things I condemned him for?”
    “Well,” said Mr. Sylvester, maintaining his smile with some difficulty. “It did turn out he really was having an affair with your wife-to-be. That did help.”
    “How was I ever fooled, by such a thing as you?” said Douglas, and Mr. Sylvester flinched at what he heard in the King’s voice.
    “My dear fellow, it was just a job, I assure you. Nothing personal.”
    “And I was so quick to believe your lies,” said Douglas. “I should have known better. I always trusted Lewis to guard my back, when we were Paragons together. I trusted him with my life, then.”
    “Pity you couldn’t trust him with your fiancée,” said Mr. Sylvester. “But let bygones be bygones. We have an alliance to discuss.”
    “Why did the Emperor send you, Mr. Sylvester?” said Douglas.
    “Because he needed someone who could negotiate delicate matters without getting too emotional,” said Mr. Sylvester, happy to be back on safer ground again. “And, truth be told, he doesn’t have that many people left he feels he can trust anymore. Possibly