Sianim 01 - Masques

days.
    “You also eliminated the threat that his faithful followers would attack us after we killed the ae’Magi,” she told him. “He’ll be found, mostly eaten by his former pets.”
    Wolf caught her hand, and the burns disappeared from it, along with much of the dirt. Aralorn laughed softly and wiped her other hand on his cheek, showing him the smudge on it. “This time, you are almost as dirty as I am.”
    “He’s dead,” Wolf said.
    “Dead,” she agreed.
    He closed his eyes and shuddered. She took his hand and he gripped it tightly.
    “I think,” he told her, “that I have just enough magic to take us back to the library.”
    “Let’s go find Myr and let him know what’s happened. Then I have to get back to Sianim and let Ren know that there is going to be a plaguing awful mess of Uriah running around that someone’s got to clean up. If he works it right, Sianim stands to make a lot of gold off this.”
    “Not that you care,” Wolf said. “Since you gave up Sianim to follow Myr.”
    “To follow you,” she said. “And I’ve had time to think a bit. Don’t you think it was a coincidence that Ren sent me to an inn not twenty miles from where the King of Reth was hiding? And you know what Ren says about coincidence.”
    “Usually, coincidences aren’t,” said Wolf.

FINIS

    The fifth baron of Tryfahr, Seneschal of the Royal Palace (also known as Haris the Smith) stepped into the kitchen to examine the food being prepared for the feast celebrating King Myr’s formal coronation. Seeing the Seneschal slip into the kitchen, the Lyon of Lambshold, who currently held the title of Minister of Defense, decided to join him.
    In the main kitchen, the cook who ruled sprawled asleep in her rocking chair near the dessert trays, a nasty-looking wooden spatula in one hand. The new court taster stood silently near the stove.
    The new cook was a marvel; the fowl had never been so moist, the beef so tender, and her sweets were beyond comparison. More wondrous still was that she was able to maneuver her bulk around (though no one but the hulking taster who lurked in the corner had ever witnessed it) and cook.
    “So,” commented Haris, “the mercenaries have offered to help clean up the Uriah.”
    “Aye,” snorted the Defense Minister, “for a discounted rate, since their troops will be in the vicinity clearing the Uriah out of Darran as well. They’ve already cleared out the ae’Magi’s castle.” His hand crept out involuntarily to hover over one of the lacy sugar cakes.
    “I wouldn’t,” muttered the Seneschal to the Lyon, nodding at the massive hand that was tightening around the spatula’s handle though the cook’s eyes had remained closed. He cleared his throat and remarked in a louder tone, “Likely they were hoping to find the ae’Magi in a state to pay them, but I heard that they couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere.” There was a note of satisfaction in his tone.
    The Lyon snatched his hand back, and said absently, “Eaten, most likely, poor man. Sianim’ll probably make the next ae’Magi pay them before they turn the castle over to—” He was interrupted by a shout from one of the pages, who seemed to be taking over the castle lately.
    “Haris! . . . Uhm, excuse me . . . I mean, my lord. Myr . . . uh, King Myr wants to know if the delegation from Ynstrah is here yet? He can’t find them anywhere, though the gatekeeper says that they came in last night.” The page stood at the top of the stairs pulling at the velvet surcoat he wore.
    “Tell him I’m coming, Stanis,” grunted the Seneschal.
    The Lyon gave a last look at the cakes as he followed Haris up the stairs.
    When they were safely gone, the small, bright sea-green eyes of the cook opened, almost concealed in the folds of her face. She shifted her amazing mass out of the chair and waddled to the bakery trays. Taking a cake in her pudgy hand, she threw it to the guardsman who served as taster. He caught it easily despite the eye patch he wore.
    “I told Ren that we wouldn’t learn anything at an event this size,” she said. “There isn’t enough privacy for any good plotting. The only thing that ever happens at a state occasion is an assassination attempt, but Myr has already hired Sianim guards to stop that.”
    The guard nodded—he’d heard her complaint more than once. He examined the little delicacy with his good eye before biting into it, saying, “You could have let him have the cake, Aralorn.