The Empress of Beasts, page 19
part #13 of The Wandering Inn Series
The Drake found himself holding two glass jars of green liquid. He stared at them and then recalled one of his notes on Erin Solstice. Gingerly, he backed out of the kitchen and put the jars on a table. He caught Lyonette pulling Mrsha well clear of the jars.
“Don’t let her drop those anywhere near you.”
The [Princess] pointed at the acid jars. Teliv shuddered as Erin came out with two more. To her credit, she was holding them very carefully herself.
“Maybe refrain from displays of wealth, Miss Solstice? We’ll stow your jars on the wagons without the bag of holding. Far from us.”
Erin nodded. She placed the jars on the table and looked around. Anything else? Nothing off the top of her head. Besides, she was just helping out. Then she studied her dress. She took her apron off after a second’s thought and regarded her attire.
“Huh. Okay. I’m not dressed too badly. But—oh! Should I take my ring off?”
“What ring?”
Lyonette, keeping Mrsha back from the acid jars, looked up. Teliv, Pisces, still at his table, and even Mrsha and Numbtongue looked around. Erin waved her right hand.
“This—”
Erin went to point to the ring on her finger. The golden ring that Ilvriss had given her. Then she realized what she was doing and hesitated, but it was too late.
“—ring. I wear it sometimes. It’s cool, huh?”
Lamely, she twisted it a bit so the golden letters weren’t visible. Lyonette frowned as she walked over. She stared at the ring on Erin’s finger, mystified.
“I have never seen you wear that ring in my life, Erin.”
“What? No, I wore it yesterday.”
Erin protested, blinking at Lyonette. The [Princess] raised her brows.
“Oh? Well, maybe. I must have forgotten it. Where’d you get it? You could buy something far nicer at the marketplace. That’s sort of…”
She looked around, hesitating, then went for it.
“Plain?”
Erin frowned, hurt. And then she really frowned as she stared at the ring on her finger.
“What? I mean, it’s not full of jewels, but it is gold, right?”
Lyonette stared at the ring.
“That’s not gold, Erin.”
This time the [Innkeeper] really hesitated. She frowned at Lyonette, expecting a joke, but Lyonette didn’t do jokes that much. Slowly, Erin regarded the ring that bore the single word, ‘Salazsar’, on it. And on a hunch, she interjected a bit of incredulity into her voice.
“It’s not golden to you?”
Lyonette raised her eyebrows, surprised. She looked at the ring and shook her head. Mrsha did the same. Erin showed the ring to Teliv, and he shrugged.
“Doesn’t look like gold to me, but I’m no expert.”
“I am. Show me.”
Pisces leaned over and narrowed his eyes as Erin took the ring off her finger. He stared at Ilvriss’ ring in Erin’s palm dismissively for a second and shook his head.
“Copper.”
Lyonette nodded, agreeing with a sigh.
“Polished well. Erin, you know what gold coins look like. You didn’t pay for it as if it were gold, did you? Never mind, I don’t want to know. If you like it, that’s great.”
Erin looked at her. Then at the plain, copper ring on her hand. She put it on and stared again. Then she looked up with a guileless smile that was in fact, full of guile. But well-hidden.
“Oh. Well, right. I wear it sometimes. Don’t be jerks about it! I like copper.”
She put the ring back on her finger before anyone could see the faint indentation of flesh. And she looked at the ring thoughtfully for another second. But then Teliv was politely urging her towards the waiting wagon, and Erin had an adventure to attend to in Esthelm! Not a huge one if Teliv had his way, but Erin wanted to see how the city had fared since she’d helped it. So, it turned out, did Numbtongue.
Of course, that was a bad idea, at least, according to Teliv. But soon Erin was on the road and busy. She was always busy, but sometimes she remembered how quiet her inn had been. And all the old guests who had left or…gone.
Her old Antinium chess players. Halrac and his team. The original Horns of Hammerad. Once, Brunkr. Ryoka. And…Erin sat on the wagon, and looked at the ring on her finger. Sometimes she forgot it was there. It was comfortable; if she didn’t think of it, it felt like part of her finger. And no one remembered her wearing it? Come to that—Erin narrowed her eyes and then fished out a gold coin. She stared at it and at the ring.
“Huh.”
She wanted to know what it meant, but Teliv wasn’t the person to ask. Like the special coin in her safe, it was something to ponder and ask the right people. And it did remind Erin of a certain jerk who hadn’t been completely a jerk. Sometimes she even missed him.
She wondered what he was doing now.
——
Wall Lord Ilvriss of Salazsar was home. He had returned to his Walled City, the City of Gems, Salazsar, located in the mountainous eastern region of Izril. And had Erin Solstice wished it, she could have found out his whereabouts and what he was up to quite easily.
Anyone could. It was a fact of this world that thanks to [Message] spells and the changing nature of politics, information was power. And Ilvriss was a name. One of many, true. But a Wall Lord still merited enough attention that his actions were the talk of Salazsar.
They said he’d gone after Zel Shivertail even though a truce had been called between the Trisstal Alliance and Salazsar. Even though the Goblin Lord had been attacking Drake and Human cities, Ilvriss hadn’t let go of the grudge and dueled Zel Shivertail. The injuries of that duel had led to General Shivertail’s demise at the Goblin Lord’s claws.
No, it wasn’t vengeance. Wall Lord Ilvriss had gone with General Shivertail to raise another army! He’d balked at working with the Humans, obviously, but he’d been holding the walls while the Humans assailed Liscor.
Actually—and let’s be clear here—it was neither. If you wanted to know the real details of Ilvriss’ mysterious sojourn abroad, it was all to do with the rumored lover he had. He’d met her in Liscor and all the other incidents he’d been involved in were a result of that getaway! But they’d broken up, hence his abrupt return.
Those were the three biggest theories, and there were some other rumors, with everything from Ilvriss trying to become Liscor’s next Wall Lord, or that he’d taken some serious injury in the battle with Zel Shivertail or their following clash with the Goblin Lord and been forced to recover.
Rumors of a liaison with a Gnoll, or even more scandalous, a Human were never founded. But then again, no one who understood the significance of it took the absence of the plain, golden ring on Ilvriss’ claws lightly.
The sheer fact was that Ilvriss had everyone’s attention on him in the weeks after his return. And what had he done? Well—partied.
But in a refined way. What he’d done since returning home was throw a series of the most exquisite soirees and dinner parties that had Salazsar’s elites toasting him nightly. Of course, what else was a son of Salazsar to do when they’d been away from their home, and thus culture, for so long?
However, ironically, those actions were positively mundane compared to the aura of mystery Ilvriss had cultivated while abroad. So the well-received parties soon became of no interest to anyone but those invited and possibly an envious mention in passing. And that was just how Ilvriss intended it.
It was in fact, morning in Salazsar, albeit a cold and frosty one in the highest reaches of the towers of the Walled City. Of course, the nobility could pay for as much magical heating as they liked, and so it didn’t touch Ilvriss as he stood on a balcony and walkway leading to the private routes the Wall Lords and Ladies could use.
Like the rest of Salazsar, the towers and reaching structures of the Walled City were connected by walkways. The lower parts of the city were the most densely populated; wealth stood above. In fact, Ilvriss’ family owned this particular spire, from top to bottom. And his personal estates—more vertical than sprawling—occupied the top of the tower.
The Wall Lord suppressed the urge to yawn as he heard the door open behind him. He’d had a late night of refined debauchery. And the Drake responsible for about sixty percent of said debauchery was stumbling out, shrugging off the help of the few attendants Ilvriss employed.
It wasn’t Brilm. Or Hesalief. Or the six other Drakes who’d attended the private little party in Ilvriss’ estates. No, only one Drake could and would keep drinking even when the sun had come back up. And he came stumbling out of the door helped by the Drake [Housekeeper].
[Housekeeper]. It was an important distinction. Ilvriss employed a [Chef], [Cleaners], [Waiters]—no [Servants]. True, you could argue that [Housekeeper] was just a higher-ranking servant, but in the context of Drake society, a [Housekeeper], like a [Cleaner], was someone you employed. Not someone you were better than; and indeed, if you threw dirty clothes on the floor in front of a Drake [Housekeeper], they’d probably throw it right back.
Drakes believed in military discipline and ranks, but not servitude. So there was no [Butler] or [Manservant] to haul the Wall Lord who came stumbling out to stand next to Ilvriss to a waiting carriage and speed him back to his estates. You couldn’t fit a carriage on the walkways this high up anyways, and horses had a thing about heights. He’d have to walk, or failing that, stumble home.
“Tasilt.”
Ilvriss winced at the sound of his own voice. He reached into a pocket of his robes and withdrew a small vial. He uncorked it and drank the hangover potion as Tasilt grinned blearily at him.
“What’s that? Hangover potion already? You’ve lost your step, Ilvriss.”
“And you’re taking far too many. For yourself?”
Ilvriss offered the vial to Tasilt. He normally didn’t drink that much, but Tasilt was a bad influence. The rest of the Wall Lords that Ilvriss had invited to the dinner that had turned into drinking had all needed one. But Tasilt just waved a claw vaguely.
“I’m still pleasantly, no, happily drunk. That was a fine repast! And the drinks afterwards! Just…”
He tried to blow a kiss with his claws.
“Now that is the Ilvriss Gemscale I know. A Drake of taste. Sophistication! And—and—”
“Fine wine?”
Ilvriss raised his brows drily. Tasilt took two steps left, stumbling unsteadily. He had to lean on the balcony as he nodded.
“Exceedingly! Although, I will own, at some point it’s lost on me since I feel the point is to be happily drunk, not classily tipsy. A waste of a good vintage!”
“Some wines are meant to be shared. Or else why bother hoarding at all? It was only a Laile.”
“True! True! But generous, nevertheless. I’ve half a dozen bottles I’m terrified to open, do you know? They’re in my vaults under Preservation Runes along with everything else. I’d love to taste just one, but my heirs would kill me. As would my dear beloved. It’s inheritance.”
Tasilt heaved a huge sigh. He squinted out at the brightening skyline.
“Ancestors, it is dawn already, isn’t it? I should have been home ages ago. And I’m due a meeting with these [Merchants] in four hours! Dead gods, I wish we were young again, Ilvriss. Free of work!”
“We’ve certainly acted like it these last few days, haven’t we?”
Ilvriss smiled a bit. He stood very tall, not showing the effects of drinking. Tasilt on the other hand—well, he wore his drinks and some of his excesses.
Then again, he was the more cheerful of the two Drakes. Ilvriss had long considered that, and the fact that Tasilt, for all he’d never seemed to grow up like Ilvriss had, was still quite successful as a Wall Lord himself. And beloved; if Ilvriss was the model Drake in both bearing and appearance, a symbol of Salazsar’s elite, Tasilt was quite fondly regarded despite being a failure in those regards.
Now Ilvriss’ old friend was sighing. He still didn’t take the vial and instead straightened his clothing.
“No help for it. I’ll take a stamina potion, don’t worry, Ilvriss. And I’ll explain myself at home. Rhelika will understand. You’ve been away for so long and she did enjoy that dinner party. Just invite us all for a private meal next week, would you? That’ll unruffle her fur and I can bring the children over.”
“Very well. Give her my greetings.”
“Naturally! And er, I’ll convey your regrets for the late hour. Completely unavoidable. Old friends need to catch up.”
“Of course.”
Ilvriss kept his face straight as Tasilt checked his breath. The Drake was still drunk, though. Ilvriss coughed.
“If a hangover potion isn’t enough, I can have someone fetch a sobering…”
Tasilt caught him with a claw, grinning toothily.
“No, no, let me enjoy this, Ilvriss. Or the wine will have been sacrificed for nothing! I’ll be fine. This is why handrails were invented. Rhelika won’t mind.”
“And the [Merchants]?”
Tasilt just laughed.
“Simple! I’ll provide them with suitable refreshments! That’s the trick of it, Ilvriss. Don’t rise; bring them down to your level! You’d be surprised at how many upper-class [Merchants] have forgotten how to barter while drunk! Just give me a second. Ah, what a sight, eh?”
Ilvriss nodded. He could feel the cold breeze on his scales, but the heat rising from the balcony’s tiles made the experience bracing, pleasant. And Salazsar by dawn was beautiful. The light caught the towers one by one, illuminating millennia of craft, wrought stone. Carved gems angled to split the light cast colorful reflections.
Salazsar was a jewel. And Ilvriss loved it as much as the first day he’d seen it from above. He glanced to one side and saw Tasilt’s eyes shining. Different they may be, but they were still sons of Salazsar.
And Tasilt? Ilvriss paused another moment, regarding his old friend. He was unlike Brilm, who was always on the cutting edge of the latest ‘thing’. And if Brilm was a traditionalist, even painfully so when it came to how he employed Gnolls, Tasilt was his opposite.
Everything the Drake did was new. Experimental. Three quarters of his enterprises tended to fail, but the remaining quarter made up for his failures. Everything from trying to use water to blast holes in mines to how he had married.
He was the only Wall Lord—or Lady—in forty six years to have married a non-Drake. And only one of eight in as many centuries. By now, it had been…what, seventeen years? Ilvriss felt it was only yesterday that Tasilt had been rowing with his friends and father about the very idea of marrying his Gnoll wife, Rhelika. And Ilvriss remembered vividly the way he’d acted back then.
It was the only time Tasilt had ever hit Ilvriss. Now of course, that day was over a decade past and Ilvriss and Tasilt were old friends who’d gotten back together for a night of relaxation after his long absence.
Ilvriss thought more of moments like that these days. And he looked at Tasilt differently. Of course, he’d never been Brilm, who still held Tasilt at a reserve, but Ilvriss had always regarded Tasilt’s decision as…odd. Now, though? Ilvriss wondered how difficult it had been for Rhelika. And he had never considered that before. Not once. But if it was difficult for a…Human, living just outside a Drake city. If a Goblin could be an adventurer—
Ilvriss shook his head. He looked at everything differently than when he’d left, come to that. It felt like the world hadn’t changed. But he had. And it was an uncomfortable feeling. Things that had mattered in the past didn’t now. While other things mattered more.
After a moment, the Drake cleared his throat. Ilvriss’ purples scales stood out next to Tasilt’s fair green mixed with brown.
“How are the children, Tasilt? I didn’t have the opportunity to ask.”
The other Wall Lord looked up, deeply surprised. He paused, and Ilvriss noticed Tasilt’s eyes flicking to his face for a moment. Tasilt visibly sobered a bit and replied, smiling a bit and staring over the balcony.
“What, the twins? Just grand. You’d never know they were different species. Both of them run about on all fours. Cecilla’s normal—she’s in her hoarding phase. We’re working with her on that. Not a problem there.”
“Ah, of course. And…is it Feldir?”
“It is.”
Tasilt heaved a sigh. He glanced at Ilvriss again, and then leaned over the balcony. And this time his voice was lower. Genuine concern flickered through his eyes.
“He’s unruly—you know? Won’t listen, always disappearing—and I have to watch that he doesn’t take anything from home! You know, the other day I found out he’d taken a Potion of Greater Invisibility out of our family vaults?”
“Really? And he used it?”
Ilvriss looked greatly concerned. Wall Lords had their inheritances of old. Some had squandered it of course, but Tasilt and Ilvriss’ families both possessed some treasures, even if the majority of it was just the wealth they owned. Tasilt was the one with legitimate heirlooms in his family, and that potion was one of them. Tasilt nodded.
“Just like that! I had to tell the guards not to let him in! And the damn potion. You know how he used it? Well, let’s just say Tielma was not happy about where she found her daughter, her daughter’s friends, Feldir, and half a dozen of his mates. I can’t imagine how it must have been. Obviously she saw nothing, but the sounds…”
He shuddered. Ilvriss stared at him and then he laughed. Tasilt stared at him. His lips quirked, and his tail swayed on the warm stone tiles.
“Don’t laugh! It was a disaster!”
“I’m sorry. But that really is a story that would only come from you, Tasilt.”
Ilvriss chuckled, shaking his head. He looked at his old friend.
“By all means, bring over your family next week, Tasilt. I’ll send the invitation. I should like to meet Feldir and the others. He sounds like a spitting image of you at his age.”
The other Wall Lord blinked. Then he grinned ruefully.
“Ancestors, I hope not! Otherwise he’ll be…”
