Forgotten Embers

Chapter 33: Questions of Loyalty

He made his way speedily through the hidden passages down narrow, winding stairways to the dark dungeons deep below High Palace, saluting no man on the way.

The rough and unfinished halls of the prisons below were primarily made up of crudely carved out tunnels winding through the uncut earth. It was much busier in those burrowed halls than it had ever been, their uniquely distinguished guest attracting a myriad of government officials and their guards.

He eased his pace as he approached the door leading to the prisoners' hall. He could hear voices coming from behind the door as the men engaged in celebratory remarks of lighthearted banter and cheerful mockery. His heart sank.

'How can I go in there with such revelry?' He slowed his pace almost to the point of standing still, his heart unsure of his purpose.

The door to the prison block opened up ahead of him, and a group of magicians and guards exited the hall followed by the King, who was accompanied by a selection of his mage-royal.

"Ah, Lord Blackridge!" Zephyr announced, greeting him gladly. "This is a day of celebration, is it not?"

"It is, indeed, my Lord," his servant addressed with a bow. "And may all the enemies of my Lord the King be as this man is."

"Aha! What, of good conscience?" the King laughed, and Blackridge returned his mirth with a look of mild amusement. "Why so punctilious?" Zephyr inquired, becoming a bit more serious.

"It's nothing, my Lord. Perhaps... tiredness," Blackridge suggested, cleverly accounting for his somber mood, and it was true that he was tired.

The King turned to his royal retinue. "Gentlemen," he said, addressing the entourage, "I would like to speak with my friend here in private. Go, await me in my bedchambers." The servants obeyed him, clearing themselves from the hall, and the two men were left alone. They stood face to face, and Zephyr put his arm around Blackridge, resting his hand on his shoulder. "Master Blackridge, a word," he said.

"Of course," the mage responded, bearing the weight of his address.

"You know, in all the four reams of the kingdom, there is not a man I would consider more highly than yourself, and there is no man in whom I have placed my trust if not in you. I have found no fault in you, but I will speak plainly. There are those among our ranks who question your loyalty."

"My Lord," Blackridge began, raising his hand with an appeal, "you know I have—"

Zephyr stopped him, waving a hand of dismissal.  "I will hear nothing of it. Let the matter go no further between us," he entreated.

Blackridge looked at him with some concern and waited for the request which was sure to follow.

"Kallida may be shrill but he does do good work, doesn't he? Think how long we've waited, our eyes longing all these passing years to see our enemies in shackles, and here he has made this a day of celebration," Zephyr mused. "It is a funny thing... he owes you his life many times over, and yet he continues to challenge you. I honestly don't know why you let him live. Many times I've thought it a mistake, one which will one day haunt you, but I am grateful for it now."

'He's just... discussing things. We haven't talked like this is ages. Surely, he's planning something, but what does he want?'

Blackridge watched him, listening closely to the formation of every word the King spoke. There was no such thing as talking with Zephyr; there was always a request.

"No, it's a little like the hubris of Adam," the King continued, unhindered by the Archmage and his thoughts. "He doesn't realize it, but he'll do whatever I want and nothing more." He laughed. "Can you believe the man wants to prosecute a public trial with hardly any evidence?"

Blackridge shook his head and brought his hand up as if to pitch something over his shoulder. "It makes no difference what evidence he has," the Archmage reminded him. "Whatever is said, he can simply rewrite and edit to his liking. Master Kallida will suffer no more than momentary embarrassment."

"He would need my cooperation for that," Zephyr corrected, "and I won't give the order."

Blackridge's eyes widened in shock, and he looked at Zephyr in disbelief. 'But why? The KLP was designed to adjust reality to his liking. Surely, he can't want Kallida to fail.'

"You seem surprised," Zephyr observed. "Well, look here, Blackridge, I may despise the man, but I do have respect for him! The man's a living oracle, for God's sake!" the King passionately defended. "I just finished talking with him," he said, indicating the door behind him. "Do you know he's the same man now as he ever was? The unwavering consistency of a moral Delphian is the one thing I find most appalling. It makes them most uncooperative," Zephyr lamented.

"You have my sympathies," Blackridge muttered, trying to present himself as caring.

"Yes," the King went on, barely affected by his subordinate's comment, "and he did always have such a unique way of showing up at the most inopportune times. Why, I can think of several instances offhand wherein he disrupted my plans entirely!"

Blackridge nodded solemnly. "Yes, as I recall, that happened rather frequently."

'But you always got your revenge, Ramus. Now, didn't you? You always made certain that you were never crossed, and, if any man crossed you, his life was your demand. Whether in death or in service, the misery of your adversary was your just reward and nothing else could recompense. Even so, what could have meant more than these past twenty years in which they've suffered deprivation?'

"For all of that, still, I admire him. How a man could endure so much for so little and remain faithful for so long without reward, I may never comprehend," Zephyr said and sighed. "I will allow the trial, but I will leave Kallida to his own volition. If he wants to prosecute the trial, I'll let him. Though, it's foolish of him to try. Personally, I think he would have a better chance of convicting the Royal Confessor in Tyra, but if Kallida thinks himself clever, if he thinks himself cunning, if he thinks himself ready and able, so be it. He can have his trial, but he won't have my order for the KLP to correct it."

"I am certain the Ambassador will appreciate you leaving his dignity intact, if not his life," Blackridge diplomatically commented.

The King laughed. "Then it's sure! You know the man better than anyone!"

Blackridge shook his head. His face wore a small smile. "Thank you, but that isn't true. Eliezer loves a woman who knows him better than I do."

Zephyr's face fell, and he appeared almost remorseful. "Oh, does he?" he murmured. "Well, we have destroyed a great many things, now haven't we?" His words carried with them a strange silence which fell. "But I had come with a request," Zephyr admitted, recomposing himself.

"Whatever you require, my Lord, I am your servant," Blackridge replied, having been comforted by Zephyr's momentary softness and the friendliness of his address.

"Good," Zephyr stated with a wide smile. "I would like you to perform the execution."

Blackridge felt his heart drop and his stomach twist. He shut his eyes and felt the pain course through him.

"Dissolve the rumors and quell the dissension in the ranks, Lord Blackridge," the King instructed him. "What better way to prove your loyalty to me than to vanquish the Ambassador by your own hand?"

Blackridge swallowed and nodded. 'I should have expected this.'

He opened his eyes and choked out the words. "May it be done, my Lord, according to your wishes."

Zephyr smiled with devilish delight. "Very good, Blackridge. The matter will soon be settled, then." The King patted his arm and began on his way, taking the first steps of a long walk through the shifting corridors of the castle complex to his chambers. "Oh, and Blackridge..." he whispered in the mage's ear as he passed by him, "don't show weakness. Not like last time."