Throne Hunters Book Four, Chapter 30

“Master Darrowdelve!” Master Ling swept into the private lounge, his expression delighted, his hands raised as if in a surfeit of joy. “It has been too long since I saw you last, but I am overjoyed to see you in good health.”

“Master Ling.” Harald rose to his feet. “Thank you as always for your kind hospitality.”

“This?” Master Ling gestured scornfully to the exquisitely decorated room, the low lacquered table, the wall scrolls, the objects of art on their plinths. “This is nothing for one such as yourself. But I am honored that you find the Platinum Rose’s quarters to your liking.”

Harald resisted the urge to smile. It must have cost a small fortune to decorate this chamber, with any one of the small jade vases, crystal statuettes, or other curios being worth enough to keep a family in the Shambles well fed for a decade.

They sat. Master Ling swept his voluminous sleeves back, and ignored the servant who poured their tea with sublime ease. When finally the table was set, the servants bowed and removed themselves, closing the door so carefully that the latch never even sounded.

“Spring is around the corner,” observed Master Ling, lifting his porcelain cup with both hands. “Soon the scent of blossoms will be carried on the wind, and the endless rains and gray skies replaced by the joyous effervescence of life bestirring itself again.”

Harald raised his own cup, but refrained from sipping. “I pray that we are both in sufficient good health to enjoy it.”

Master Ling lowered his cup and frowned in sudden concern. “Master Darrowdelve, I have heard the most shocking of rumors. My concern for your well being has been constant. Tell me that this has all been a misunderstanding?”

“It has all been a misunderstanding,” said Harald placidly.

Master Ling smiled. “Good. I shall send word to the six Houses, and all shall be settled forthwith.”

“If only it were so easy.”

“I’ve heard…” Master Ling lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “That you are in possession of a rare and terribly powerful Artifact from Flutic’s storied history.”

“That is entirely possible,” allowed Harald.

“Is that so? Then I must tender my most sincere regrets.” Master Ling set down his cup and stiffened his spine as if preparing to deliver tragic news. “The Platinum Rose Auction House cannot broker an auction for the Twilight Crown. Not even our vaunted neutrality will withstand the scrutiny and opprobrium such an attempt would garner.”

“Fortunately, that’s not why I’m here.” Harald set his cup down as well. “Such a priceless Artifact could never be sold to the highest bidder. Instead, I’ve come to ask for your assistance.”

“Anything, as long as it does not endanger my poor but hardworking employees.” Master Ling’s expression turned sorrowful. “I am like a grieving father, who must balance the needs of his children with the demands of the world. Anything that could bring violence to their lives must be studiously avoided.”

“That’s really honorable of you,” said Harald. “No, all that I ask it that you send a private message to Lord Doran Blaze of House Emberfell for me. I, for obvious reasons, can’t be seen approaching Emberfell Hall, nor can I trust the regular courier system with something so delicate.”

“A message? But of course. The Platinum Rose Auction House employs its own private system of communication. The success of our business is directly correlated to its sanctity and reliability. Do you have a message already written?”

“Alas, no.” Harald grimaced. “A written message could fall into the wrong hands. I was hoping to send a verbal message. Unless that’s impractical?”

Master Ling’s eyes gleamed. “Not at all. My couriers are practiced in memorizing lengthy tracts. What is it you wish relayed?”

“Something along the lines of: Dear Lord Blaze, I find myself in possession of the Twilight Crown, and consequently my life and that of my friends is in great danger. Of all the lords and ladies of the Council, you are the one I trust the most and to whom I’d willingly entrust the Crown. Please meet with me at the esteemed Platinum Rose Auction House this evening—say, around 8th Bell—so that I may discuss my situation and deliver the Crown to you. Or put it in your trust, or something along those lines.”

Master Ling nodded assiduously. “Ah, I see, yes, a wonderful choice. Lord Blaze is a wise and discerning man, and his lack of political ambition makes him a wise custodian. 8th Bell?”

“Something like that. Sure. 8th Bell would work. That should give him most of the day to prepare and come. If I may effect the handover here on your premises?”

“But of course!” Master Ling affected an outraged glare. “To think that I would refuse such an honor! You may count on both my discretion and the security of my premises. So that I may know how much to I need to prepare: would you be bringing the Crown with you for this meeting?”

“Sure, right?” Harald pretended surprise. “How else would I give it to Lord Blaze.”

“Of course, a foolish question.” Master Ling smoothed his long mustache. “Very well. May I make a suggestion? You should arrive before Lord Blaze. That way we can receive him with both decorum and calm.”

“Sure,” agreed Harald. “I’ll come half a Bell before the 8th. How can I compensate you for this service?”

Master Ling waved the question away. “The Platinum Rose Auction House gains in being part of this historic transaction, and our reputation shall only be enhanced by having a role in what is to come. I couldn’t dream of charging you a single Copper Crescent.”

“If you insist,” said Harald dubiously. “Thank you. I knew if there was one man I could trust in all this madness, it was you, Master Ling. You’ve always been the soul of discretion.”

Master Ling bowed deeply, face almost reaching the table’s reflective black surface. “I am but a humble man, but I do take pride in being able to provide assistance. Think nothing of it.”

Harald inclined his head in turn.

For a while longer they exchanged pleasantries. Master Ling probed at what Harald and his companions had been up to over the past few days, but graciously accepted Harald’s deflections. The meeting soon ended, and Harald found himself escorted out a side entrance by bowing employees.

Their carriage was awaiting a few blocks away. With his hood drawn and the benefit of Veil of Shadows, Harald was able to navigate back alleys and reach his companions without drawing undue attention.

“Well?” asked Sam as he climbed in. “How did it go?”

“Like you’d expect.” Harald quickly shed the cloak. The air inside the large carriage was stifling. “You’d think I’d asked to deposit a Celestial Prismwing in his vault.”

“You practically did,” said Nessa wryly. “The Twilight Crown? Now that’s a prize worth handing over to Lady Celestis.”

“We’re due back half a Bell before 8th,” said Harald. “Which means we have the rest of the day to kill. Suggestions?”

Kársek shifted in his seat. “It would probably be best if we kept moving. Any attempts to scry us would be complicated by our never staying still. They would need to triangulate us to get a definite position, and I doubt anyone has the capacity for such precision.”

“All day in this carriage?” Vic allowed his head to loll back as he closed his eyes. “I shall go mad.”

“Agreed,” said Harald, and opened the carriage door to give the driver instructions. A Golden Dawn drew a delighted smile from the young man, who promised to give them an in-depth tour of every neighborhood in Flutic minus the Angelus.

They rumbled off down the street.

The Bells slowly tolled the day away. His companions alternately napped, held quiet conversations, or peered through the slatted windows at the city rolling by.

Each Bell felt interminable, and the air only grew closer and more stifling with each passing Bell.

Vic spent much of it simply staring at Anna, a slight smile tugging on his lips. Their argument that morning had been vehement verging on violent till Harald had shut it down.

Anna finally took Vic’s bait. “This isn’t your world to fashion as you see fit, Vic. Enough with your attitude.”

“The angels wept,” muttered Nessa. “This again?”

Vic raised an eyebrow. “Me? I’m just admiring the shape of your skull, countess.”

Who leaned forward sharply. “Ideals are wonderful right up until they crash into the realities of the world. You of all people should understand this.”

“Me?” Vic put his hand to his chest. “I should understand this? Why, because I spent much of my life whoring and taking advantage of people who failed to understand this basic precept?”

Anna couldn’t hold her glare. The corner of her lips curled up despite her anger. “Yes. Yes, precisely for that reason.”

“But I am reborn, countess. Don’t you see it? Innocent of vice, intolerant of corruption. I’ll admit I’m no longer quite as fun at parties, but what I lack in social niceties I more than make up with a willingness to cut out rot at its source.” Vic smiled. “Is that so wrong?”

“Vic, c’mon,” protested Harald. “What, exactly, are you proposing? Telling Lord Blaze to jump in a lake? Declare open war on all six Houses simultaneously?”

“Not even I’m that demanding.” Vic peered through the slats out into the street. “I just wish you’d both pressed dear Doran a little harder. Not simply caved the moment he threatened to call your hand.”

Anna shook her head. “He had the Twilight Crown. He wasn’t bluffing. If we didn’t agree, he’d have walked and taken the entire pot.”

“Then his life would have been forfeit,” shrugged Vic. “Look. I understand. You’re focused on practical, deliverable results. You’d rather compromise and get something done than reach for the stars and fail spectacularly, am I right?”

“Yes…?” replied Anna uncertainly.

“Of course. I’m not an idiot, dear countess. I can appreciate a pragmatic approach when necessary.”

“Then?” Anna glanced to Harald for help. “Then why have you been glaring at me all this time?”

“Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because this delightful pragmaticism will undoubtedly result in minor changes that will all too soon be undone by the very nobles we seek to reform. You compromised with Doran. You don’t think Melisende will seek further dilution of our vision?”

“She might,” allowed Anna.

“And you’ve already proven yourself so willing to be agreeable.” Vic smiled coldly. “I guess you could say I see which direction this wind is blowing.”

“Don’t be an ass, Vic,” said Nessa. “Just because Eclavistra shoved a seed way up your ass doesn’t mean you get to act holier than everyone else. We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got. Unless you’ve forgotten that it’s a miracle we’ve survived this long? We push our luck any harder and we’re liable to end up dead.”

“If there’s nothing in your heart worth dying for,” said Vic, “then are you really living? A costermonger once told me that when trying to convince me to buy a fireliver sandwich.”

“And?” asked Kársek. “Did you buy it?”

“No. But today I find the roles reversed, and I’m intent on making sure Lady Melisende eats that fireliver sandwich at any cost.” Vic raised a brow. “I’m going to be at that meeting. You know this.”

Harald rubbed at this face. “We know. But you can’t derail it if you don’t like the terms. Everyone’s life is on the line, Vic. Even if you’re willing to die for these reforms, you can’t make that decision for the rest of us.”

“Of course, of course,” allowed Vic smoothly. “I just want to make sure you don’t throw the baby out with the trash. Or whatever the metaphor is.”

“Sure,” said Harald. “Just… our first and most important goal is to make sure the Throne Hunters survive to fight another day. Even if we don’t get everything we ask for, if we get Melisende to swear to the Crown, we can work on improving terms down the road. Clear?”

“Like a Shambles gulley,” agreed Vic. “After somebody’s spilt an entire barrel of pure rainwater into it. Not before.”

Anna glanced meaningfully at Harald, her expression one of barely muted concern.

But what could they do? Harald wished he could go with Anna and the rest of the crew, could help keep on eye on Vic, but if he didn’t show at the auction house the entire plan would fall apart. Surely Kársek, Sam, and Nessa could help keep Vic in line?

*

The crew dropped Harald off close to the auction house just after 6th Bell. The idea being they would need time to get into position and figure out their break and entry plan into the House Celestara manor.

“Good luck!” said Sam, reaching out to squeeze Harald’s hand as he climbed out.

“Yeah, don’t do anything stupid,” said Nessa, forcing a smile.

“I won’t. If they don’t,” promised Harald.

“Not good enough,” said Sam, giving Harald’s hand an admonishing tug. “Just—do whatever they say, all right?”

Harald laughed. “Fine, fine. Honestly, don’t worry about me. The second they realize I’m a decoy they’re going to come sprinting back in your direction.”

“Not a problem,” smiled Vic. “We’ll have Lady Melisende buttoned up and ready to command them to stand down by the time they show up.”

“Good.” Harald took a deep breath. The long afternoon of idling had left him anxious, hungry for movement, but now that the moment was upon them he couldn’t help but feel mildly panicked at letting his friends proceed without him. “She’s going to keep some form of serious bodyguard with her. Don’t—”

“Harald.” Kársek’s low voice cut him off. “We’ll do our best. You do the same, and we’ll see each other soon.”

“Right, right.” Harald pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and stepped back. “See you soon.”

Vic gave a mocking two-fingered salute as he pulled the carriage door closed, and the driver cracked his whip, urging the horses to walk on.

Harald turned, watching the carriage pull back into traffic, then took a deep breath and faded back into the shadows.

There were so many aspects of this plan that could go wrong. Yseult Khan could lose her temper at his ploy and cut him down. Lady Melisende could have too many raiders protecting her manor and capture his friends. Fuck, it was possible even that Master Ling had decided not to betray him and not sent word to House Celestara.

But what was done was done. They’d made their wager, and now they had to see it through.

Harald hid in the back alleys for the rest of the Bell, and when the 7th struck and dusk began to fall upon Flutic he made his way to the auction house.

It was strange. Flutic seemed unconcerned about the momentous events that were afoot. Everywhere Harald looked life seemed to continue as ever. Vendors hawked their wares, children played underfoot, carriages rumbled by, the smell of countless dinners being cooked over home hearths filled the air with the smoke and stench of urban living. People rushed home, others rushed to begin their night shifts, and the whole city continued on, ignorant or uncaring of the affairs that roiled its leaders and upper class.

The Platinum Rose Auction House was resplendent, exterior scale-lamps lighting up its facade, its grand portico with its sumptuous carpet and huge double doors looking more apt for a palace than a place of commerce. There was no event being held that night, so the great rotunda before it was empty of carriages and phaetons.

Nervous, resisting the urge to glance around and seek out spies, Harald made his way to the entrance where he was recognized by the attendants. Even without having to flick back his hood he was greeted with gracious politeness, and bid to enter the hall.

The air was tense.

Harald was sure he wasn’t imagining the wary manner in which the auction house employees were glancing at him. They led him through the resplendent main hall and down a side corridor into one of the many sumptuous meeting rooms. The smell of sandalwood incense was subtle, drinks were set out on the elegant sideboard, and fresh bouquets of flowers exploded like fireworks from the many beautiful vases.

Master Ling presented himself shortly after Harald’s arrival.

“My courier confirmed that Master Blaze received your message, and waited his response. I am pleased to announce that we can expect House Emberfell to send a delegation at 8th Bell, and with the angels willing, all shall proceed exactly as you desire.”

“Thank you, Master Ling.” Harald studied the other man intently. “You have been a true friend in my time of need. I won’t forget this.”

“But of course.” Master Ling bowed low. Harald was unable to detect any duplicity in the man’s sincere smile. “I won’t burden you with my presence. The premises are closed to all but House Emberfell and yourself, so don’t be concerned about privacy. If you have any needs, ring the bell and my employees shall see to your every wish.”

“Thank you again.” Harald inclined his head and watched as Master Ling retreated out the door, bowing as he departed.

When the door was closed, Harald blew out his lips and rubbed his hands together. Anna had the Twilight Crown and Aureate Master, leaving Harald with the Scourge, Goldchops, and Death’s Proxy.

But even the Epic-ranked Chyron’s Scourge would be of little use against Yseult Khan. Thracos had given the entire Throne Hunters crew a run for their money as a 7th Level Silver-ranker. It was ludicrous to think he could even touch Yseult Khan if she chose to end his life.

Restless, uneasy, Harald tried to imagine where his friends were. The plan was for them to launch their assault halfway through 7th Bell, but it was hard to tell when exactly they’d judge that moment to arrive.

Hands linked behind his back, all Harald could do was pace. His friends were formidable. They had wondrous Artifacts, the element of surprise, and had been forged by countless battles into a seamless team. Nessa would direct them to best effect, and together they’d slide surgically into Melisende’s manor, approaching from the rear to enter by way of a balcony.

House Celestara had one main Gold-ranked raiding team, which would no doubt be coming to collect him, but the real question was how many Silver-rankers would Melisende choose to keep on hand for protection? The Throne Hunters could probably overwhelm any solitary individual, but against more than three?

Harald forced himself to breathe deep and slow. It was out of his hands. If Melisende was surrounded by an entire raiding team, his friends would be slaughtered while he waited impotently in the auction house.

What a wager. Had it been a mistake? No, it was too late to second guess.

But Harald couldn’t stop pacing. Couldn’t get rid of the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d overlooked something, some key element that was going to ruin their entire operation.

It was a blessed relief when he finally heard steps coming down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he resisted the urge to summon the Chyron’s Scourge and his Servitors, and turned to face the door.