The day of Belgad’s party began with a red sun rising over the rooftops of Bond. The city looked at peace. The morning crowds trudged to one job or another, while the throughways were filled with carts and wagons weighted with goods from the Docks. Boats of all sizes were untied from quays and shoved off into the depths of the two rivers running through Bond. Ribbons of smoke curled their way to the sky from morning breakfast ovens. The scent of baking bread layered the streets of the working class districts in Uptown and Southtown, while the stench of rotting vegetables and sewage permeated the air of the Swamps.
Amid all this normalcy, three swans the color of clean wool waltzed around the circular driveway of crushed stones that trailed from the front gate of the walls surrounding Belgad’s mansion to the entrance of the main building the Dartague called home.
Belgad stood with his fists on his hips at the top of the stairway in front of his mansion’s main entrance. “We’re going to eat those damn birds.”
Lalo dared to smile. “Whatever you desire.”
“That’s right,” Belgad said, turning to enter his home. “And it’s going to be that way tonight, too. Now let’s finish the last of the preparations.”
“Yes, my lord.” Lalo slunk through the door behind his master.
***
As they were in better condition than his road clothes, Lucius decided to wear his Asylum uniform but without the floppy hat. He also went without the cudgel he carried for his employment. A sword would be more appropriate for a social setting, though Lucius was mildly concerned his large hand-and-a-half weapon was currently out of style except on a battlefield. It would have to do, however, because he had neither the gold nor the time to purchase a fancy-hilted broadsword or rapier.
Once bathed and dressed, Lucius made his usual morning stroll through the Rusty Scabbard, pausing long enough to enjoy a breakfast of oatmeal and biscuits. Outside, he made as direct a route as he could to the barracks of the city guard. Gris had told him to show at least by lunch. Lucius wasn’t expected on actual guard duty until the night, but there were logistics and placements to figure before the party began. Gris expected trouble from whomever was giving Belgad grief of late, and he wanted none of it to spill over into the city proper.
Lucius grinned as he walked. He expected the night to be one to remember.
It was a simple matter to find the sergeant at the barracks. Gris had Lucius assigned one of the guards’ orange tabards and cast a doubtful eye at the big sword Lucius wore.
“You planning on hunting bear tonight?” the sergeant asked.
Lucius shrugged. “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”
“Carry on.” With a lopsided grin, Gris turned away to deal with other guards hired for the party.
By the afternoon, Lucius and eleven other men in orange tramped their way along Beggars Row to the wall that surrounded the grounds of Belgad’s mansion.
One of the younger guards stared up at the high walls behind them. “Think they’ll invite us in?”
Lucius watched the road ahead of them. “Doubtful.”
Sergeant Gris soon handed out placements outside the wall. Lucius was stationed with another man to the right of the large iron gate that would open to the grounds once the party commenced.
“You twelve are to watch the streets,” Gris said, pointing east along Beggars Row. “It’s doubtful there’ll be any real trouble, but you have to keep a check on the riffraff. Lord Belgad will have four of his personal guard on the inside of the gate, but if anyone uninvited tries to get through, you escort them away. If they give you trouble, a good clocking of the head and a night in jail should give them a new perspective come morning. Do not enter the walls of Lord Belgad’s home unless there is an emergency. There will be a score of men Lord Belgad has hired, so your services should not be needed inside.
“Any questions?”
“What time does our shift end?” The man was stationed with Lucius.
“When the party is over. I don’t know when that will be, but probably late into the morning. Anything else?”
Another man stepped forward. “Food? Privy breaks?”
“Lord Belgad has been kind enough to supply meals that will be brought to you around midnight,” Gris said, “but I must emphasize none of you are to drink any liquor. Any man with the reek on his breath will forfeit his pay and spend a night in jail. Toilet breaks you can work out amongst yourselves. The Royal Bear is just down the Row, so you can make yourselves familiar with their utilities.”
With that, Gris was on his way home to change out of his street uniform.
Lucius turned his eyes to the mansion behind the black iron bars of the gate. There would be excitement tonight. He could feel it.
***
At lunchtime, Fortisquo found himself wandering the main hall of Belgad’s fortress where servants bustled around setting up dozens of long tables and high chairs for the night’s festivities. Several dishes had already been placed in the center of one of the tables. Fortisquo nibbled on dried fruits and salted minnows. It would be a light meal, leaving him hungry, but that was good. The duelist did not want a heavy stomach.
Fortisquo swallowed a slice of pear as he watched Stilp emerge from behind Belgad’s thronelike chair atop a dais.
The tall sword master dressed in foppish silks watched with a smirk as the much shorter man in tatty leathers nearly tripped down the wooden stairs. “I wondered when you’d show.”
Stilp caught himself from falling and gave a crooked smile of his own. “Looks like Belgad finally got you out of retirement.”
“It does, indeed.” Fortisquo pointed at Stilp’s bandaged nose. “What happened to you?”
“Kron Darkbow happened to me.”
Fortisquo couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“It’s not funny!” Stilp stamped a foot as if he were a child.
Servants near them suddenly had other, more important tasks to see to elsewhere.
Once his laughter had died, Fortisquo pulled a chair from a table and relaxed. “Tell me, is there anything you can add to what Belgad old me about this Darkbow? You’ve had two run-ins with him from what I’ve heard.”
“He’s fast and strong, and he’s pretty big.”
The sword master appeared inquisitive. “What kind of weapons does he carry?”
“Big sword on his back, but I haven’t seen him draw it. He’s a dandy of a shot with a bow. And he’s got this little ... I don’t know what you’d call it ... some kind of a miniature hook tied to a rope.”
“A grappling hook small enough to carry.” Fortisquo nodded. “It’s probably attached to a silk line. I’ve seen it done before.”
“He’s good with his fists, too.”
“And also apparently likes fires.”
“That, too,” Stilp said. “So what do you have planned for him?”
“Nothing special. No fancy, complicated plans. Just a party to draw him out. Once he appears, I’ll deal with him in my own way.”
Stilp didn’t look convinced. “You’ll have to catch him. He can disappear like a black cat on a cloudy night.”
“No doubt he has talents, but I’m positive I can deal with him when the time comes.”
“Especially if you have my help,” a female voice added.
Both men turned to look toward the entrance. Standing just inside the door was Adara dressed in silky garb similar to Fortisquo’s and wearing a rapier on her left hip. A black whip had been added to her costume, riding on her right hip.
Fortisquo frowned. “I thought I told you to find something more fitting to wear.”
“And I told you I wasn’t wearing a dress if there was fighting to be done.” The woman appeared adamant about her decision.
Fortisquo chuckled and motioned her to come forward. “Stilp, this is my fencing student and current favorite female, Adara Corvus.” The swordsman gave a slight bow to the woman and motioned toward Stilp. “Adara, this is an old associate of mine and Lord Belgad. He is called Stilp.”
Adara took Stilp’s hand and shook it. “Just Stilp?”
The smaller man blushed. “It was what my mother gave me. She didn’t know who my father was.”
Fortisquo continued to chuckle.
“My apologies if I have offended,” Adara said, taking her hand back.
Stilp looked as if he had not wanted to let go of that hand. He had seen beautiful women in his time, but few had both looks and the strength of body Adara conveyed. Though she was not a large woman, Stilp could plainly see the muscles in her arms and legs.
He smiled. “Nothing to apologize about, m’lady.”
Fortisquo laughed again. “I think poor Stilp here is taken with you, Adara.”
The woman blushed. She was not shy of men, but being noticed by one of the lesser classes was not something she was used to or necessarily wanted. It embarrassed her to be fawned upon by such a lowling as Stilp, though she didn’t think less of Stilp himself.
“My pardon, m’lady.” Stilp’s smile faded.
Fortisquo laughed yet again. “Stilp and I were just discussing Kron Darkbow.”
Adara gripped the hilt of the sword at her side.“You haven’t told me where we will be hidden tonight.”
“I haven’t decided,” Fortisquo said with a shrug.
Adara shook her head, obviously annoyed. “You need to choose our ground. This fellow won’t come right out in the open for us. All this is nonsense.”
“Yes, it is, which is why it will work. He’ll be busy half the night trying to sneak in here, watching every nook and corner for a hidden attacker.”
Stilp looked almost uninterested. “It sounds crazy.”
Fortisquo kept on laughing. “A great wheel is in motion, and Kron Darkbow will be impaled upon its spokes.”
***
“I’ve a carriage waiting for us outside,” Markwood said to the young healer still dressing in his private chambers.
Randall pulled a gray cloak over his shoulders. “Will this do?”
The wizard looked the young man up and down. Randall wore simple black trousers below a simple white shirt; he appeared as any number of the lesser castes within Bond.
“It’s simple, worthy of a healer.” Markwood smoothed down his own purple robes with gold trim. It was appropriate for a healer to wear simple garb for such an event, but a leading professor of the University of Ursia’s College of Magics would be expected to wear finery.
Randall nodded and opened a desk drawer to remove a small leather purse, in case he should have need of spending money. As his hand grasped the purse, his eyes fell on the heavy gold ring inside the drawer. He hesitated, then stuffed the ring inside the purse. Randall could not imagine having to use the ring, but he did not know what the night would bring. If Kron Darkbow made an appearance at Belgad’s party, Randall wanted to be prepared for anything.
The healer slipped the purse into a pocket. “I’m ready.”
***
The sun was closing on the horizon and a long line of revelers were thronging on the hill in front of the gate to Belgad’s home when Lucius spotted Wyck with a group of other boys his age sitting on the stone steps of a nearby shop.
Upon seeing the orange garb Lucius wore, the other boys skittered away quickly.
“I thought I gave you coin to purchase some new clothes,” the approaching guard said as he frowned at the boy’s rags.
“You did, and I haven’t. You think they’ll chase after me if I’m dressed like some noble’s kid?”
Lucius whispered with gritted teeth, “Hush.”
“What about your clothes?” Wyck glared at the swordsman’s orange. “Got a new job?”
Lucius stopped in front of the boy and turned his attention to the line of folks waiting to get into Belgad’s mansion. “Only for the night.”
“When are they going to let everyone in?”
“Another hour. Lord Belgad’s servants are busy making last-minute preparations.”
Wyck patted at his belly. “I bet there’ll be lots of fancy stuff to eat.”
“I’m sure there will be.” Lucius allowed a grin as he turned an eye on the youth.
“So, are you going to be able to get me inside?”
“You don’t mind a little trouble, do you?”
The boy screwed up his face as if the answer should be obvious. “Not me.”
Lucius had to stop himself from laughing. “I’ve got a plan, and hopefully I’ll be able to bail you out if you get in over your head.”
The boy was all ears.
***
From a window overlooking the front of his estate, Belgad watched the wall’s gates tugged open by his guards. The masses began their way to the inner grounds. He watched them follow the circular path of gravel that wound its way to his front door, and he heard more than one cry of surprise or enjoyment at the sight of the silly white birds flocking on the grass in the center of the round path.
Belgad glared at the swans. “I’m going to dine on those damn things tomorrow.”
“What did you say, master?”
Belgad turned to face the Finder, who was standing near the closest of two doors to the room, a small library covered in shelves of books from wall to wall. Heavy rugs kept the cold of the stone floor at bay as did flames in the fireplace. A desk to one side was stacked with books and scrolls, evidence Belgad was no longer quite the barbarian many believed him to be.
“I said I’m going to eat your damn birds for breakfast tomorrow,” Belgad said, crossing the room to his servant.
“I would think one would be more than sufficient, even for a man of your appetites.” Lalo held out a maroon robe trimmed in white fur.
Belgad turned his back to his employee, allowing the servant to slip the robe over his white tunic.
“Is the robe too much?” Belgad looked into a mirror nearly as tall as himself. The Dartague was not a vain man when it came to clothing, preferring a simple wardrobe, but he realized to be a leader one had to look the part.
“Not for such an event. In fact, I suggest you put on something with more silk, perhaps a jacket with open sleeves.”
Belgad shook his head. “I might be gentry, but I’m not one of these fancy southerners with their flimsy swords and flimsier wardrobes.”
“As you wish.” Lalo gave a short bow.
Belgad and his servant left the room and made their way down a marble stairway to the ground level and the front entrance where a handful of guards in chain shirts waited. Other servants stood in a line, each holding a platter of food or drink.
Belgad eyed the line of his employees from one end to the other, then turned his look upon garlands of pine that had been hung along the bannisters of the stairways. Everything was in order.
“Has Fortisquo made his preparations?” the master of the house whispered to the Finder at his shoulder.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then let the festivities begin.” Belgad gripped gilded door handles and pulled them toward himself.