Captain Flynt Locke heard the news that he would need to take the man
called Denom to Duke Dred without any further questioning. He was not
pleased, he was not pleased at all.
Meanwhile, the Lady Duchess Tabitha of Hindsight was contemplating troubles of her own. She lay upon her bed thinking, her husband was still with the mage deliberating over the fate of the man who claimed to be the dead Dragon-Slayer. ~~could it be?~~ she wondered. ~~yet how? ~~ Then her mind meandered to the image of another man. ~~Logan, how I hate you!!!~~ Her hands clenched at the thought of the man. ~~if only the summoning had worked, then I would be free of you!~~ She recalled the witchery she and Deborah and Tristine, and Carilla Bellarmaine had attempted. It had been a windy evening nearly a month ago, they had sat in the circle, had lit the necessary candles, had positioned the twigs in the proper alignment…yet when they called into the netherworld, called for a champion to rage against Logan Rombus, there was no answer…only the moan of the wind in the willows. Time was running out, and the Lady Tabitha was troubled indeed. The man who had come to be the hidden tormentor of the Lady Duchess of Hindsight lay on his bed fiddling with the talisman around his neck. This little bit of stone and metal was what kept him from an unexpected fate at the hands of witches. He looked at the lead that entwined the stone and thought of other precious metals. The Faire was coming and it would unfold like a rose in the spring, and his income would be even greater than he had been expecting. ~~ahh, the great service of our lords and captains, their squires and stableboys as well!~~ Logan the Merchant laughed aloud at the thought of the idiots marching off to duty leaving him with their wives, their daughters, and their bank-boxes; he laughed even more at the silver and copper that would come his way because of the death of a fool nobleman from Suffex. Then came the knock at his door. Upon opening it the Mastermerchant Dox walked in. "I have come for your dues," he said in a sourpuss voice. "Right here, kind Master," answered Logan while pulling out a satchel weighted with much gold and silver. "You will find 25 percent of my dealings." "And if my accounters find a quarter-penny less you’ll hear about it, that is until my boys cut your ears off and then you won’t hear anything at all." With that the elderly man took the money and left the room. ~~One day, one day soon I’ll be rid of you and your bloody BMC!!! ~~ Logan rubbed his hands together picturing Valpurg Night on Fisherman’s Wharf. The Lady would come, she would have to, and upon receipt of the silver needed to keep his mouth shut he would alight on his horse and head northeast towards the outer realms, the coast, and freedom. The witches could then do whatever they wished for all he cared, and not even the BMC would follow him into the northern outlands…he hoped. Yet that night was still thirty days away, even so, the festivities of the Faire would add more coinage to his pocket. ~~damn that Logan Rombus!! he knows my secret, he wants to expose me and have me flailed! I have til First Winter’s Night to amass his hush money, but I’d rather have his tongue on a platter!~~ The Lady Tabitha thought back to that dreadful day when the merchant had come up to her while she sat on the Green. He had genuflected and smiled as was his obligation, and then he took three broken twigs from out of his pocket. She recognized them immediately; they were used in conjuring…and they were illegal. From that day on he began to ask for things: extra blankets, a cottage free from rent, a horse to give as gift to a lady-friend. What he asked for he received; the Duchess knew that exposure would mean her death. She had become an initiate in the Amber Way, and that was forbidden by the decrees of the White Hand. But last mid-spring he came and asked for more than ever before. He wanted silver in great quantities, and he wanted it by the beginning of winter. This did give her a little hope, the coven could do a great deal of mischief on Valpurg Night, but would it be enough to save her? Though her resources were great, both in social circles and in wealth, the amount the merchant called for would be a notable loss to the House’s estate. Payment would, in and of itself, be an opportunity for her husband to discover her dirty little secret, and with him the White Hand who was his advisor in far too many matters. Yes, indeed, the Lady Tabitha would have little sleep while Mistress Oyael stayed under her roof. Meanwhile, Captain Flynt Locke was just beginning to tell the mage what he thought about her so-called magic. He was not pleased, he was not pleased at all.
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11/24/2000 5:50:34 PM
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