Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

palace.

    One man in particular felt his life change forever when he saw Douglas Campbell reveal his true identity in the Three Cripples that first night. Tel Markham, who had once been a member of Parliament and a mover and a shaker in any number of secret organizations, but who now washed dishes for a living in the filthy back kitchen of the tavern. He ate scraps of food left on plates, and fought the rats and other vermin for it too. His once proud clothes were filthy rags, and he slept in a doss-house, standing up in a line of men supported by ropes under their arms. The doss-house owners packed them in, for greater profit, and often the shared warmth of the packed bodies was all that kept the sleepers alive through the cold nights.
    Tel received a small remittance from his mother every month, supplied on the understanding that he wouldn’t try to contact her, or come home. He had made the family name a disgrace, she said, and he had failed to look after his brother Angelo. (He’d always been her favorite.) It had been Tel’s refusal to murder his brother on Finn’s orders that had brought him low. Tel was aware of the irony, but he didn’t have much use for humor these days. His mother’s money kept him alive, just. He had to stay alive. There were people he had to be revenged upon.
    Seeing Douglas alive had filled him with new hope. He followed the Campbell from rally to rally, listening to the man speak, and watching the crowds. He needed to be sure Douglas was the real thing. And finally, when he heard the crowd roar at that last great rally, he hugged himself tightly in his rags, and laughed and laughed. He decided it was time to introduce himself. He went to the Lantern Lodge hotel one evening, slipping in through the kitchens because there was no way they’d let the likes of him in through the front door. There were guards posted, but he dodged them easily enough, and sneaked up the back stairs to Douglas’s room. And then he hesitated at the door, afraid to knock. He’d fallen so very far from what he once was. And even when they were both men of power and influence, King Douglas had never had much time for the member for Madraguda. How would Douglas react to this shrunken thing of rags and tatters at his door? Tel shuffled his feet uncertainly, raised his hand to knock and then let it fall again. He started to turn away and then the door swung suddenly open, and a large fist grabbed him by the shoulder of his filthy tunic and dragged him inside.
    “Told you I heard someone sneaking about,” Stuart said cheerfully. “Probably a spy or informer. Though now I’ve got him, I’m not sure what to do with him. I just hope my inoculations are still working.”
    He thrust Tel forward onto his knees before Douglas, and ostentatiously wiped his hand on his arse to clean it. An unexpected surge of pride brought Tel’s head up.
    “I am no spy or informer! Finn has no greater enemy than me! I came here to offer you my services!”
    “Well, thanks very much and all that, but I don’t think we need our boots cleaned at the moment,” said Nina, wrinkling her nose fastidiously.
    “You don’t recognize me,” said Tel, his eyes fixed on Douglas. “Hell, I wouldn’t know me, looking like this. I’m Tel Markham, once the honorable member for . . .”
    He broke off as Stuart surged forward and set the edge of a knife against his throat. “Markham!” he spat. “One of Finn’s creatures, then and now! Oh, God is good, now and again, delivering our enemies into our hands. Move your boots back, Douglas. You don’t want to get blood all over them when I kill him.”
    “Wait! Wait!” Tel was so panic-stricken he could hardly breathe, but he kept his gaze locked on Douglas. “I was one of Finn’s people, yes. Emphasis on the was . He ordered me to kill my brother Angelo, but I refused, so he turned on me. I had to run here, leaving everything behind, just to save my life. And then he killed Angelo anyway, so it was all for nothing after all. No one in this room has a better cause to hate Finn Durandal than me.”
    “Don’t put money on it,” said Stuart.
    “Why should we trust you?” said Douglas. He seemed genuinely curious.
    “You shouldn’t,” said Tel, still acutely aware of the knife at his throat. “You shouldn’t trust anyone in the Rookery. Finn seeded the whole place with his people long ago. But I know his secrets. I can identify his traitors, tell you of his plans. You only think