Winds of Fate Page 15

  Der Bottom nodded and continued.

  “I, Ulof der Bottom, have heard and so confirm the oath. From this moment on, Hagen has the right to know the secrets of the order and make use of that privilege until he is released from his oath, he breaks his oath, or he dies.”

  A boom echoed under the roof, and a bolt of lightning snaked downward. The smell confirmed that the oath had been approved and signed. Well then…

  Because of your new circumstances with relation to the Tearful Goddess Order, the chapter bestows on you the following attributes and benefits to be enjoyed until you complete the quest series:

  +80 respect among the peoples of the North

  +40 respect in each of the Northern burgs

  The city guard in all Northern towns and villages will be prepared to come to your assistance and defend your interests at any moment.

  All knights in the Tearful Goddess Order will be prepared to offer you all available assistance and defend your interests.

  Alert: Your reputation is now high enough to begin the Missing Daughter quest series.

  I was certainly glad I’d decided to stop by the order. Still, I hadn’t heard what the quests they needed me to take care of were about. Could the two quest series be related? It certainly seemed like a possibility.

  “Is that all the formalities?” I asked der Bottom, who had receded into the depths of the hall to sit in an enormous chair in front of a roaring fire.

  “Certainly, Laird Hagen. I apologize once again.”

  “You apologize…” snorted Gunther, still dissatisfied with the whole thing.

  “It’s fine, gentlemen,” I assured them both. “Having me swear an oath was a perfectly rational decision. Now, I’d just like to know what problem I’m supposed to take care of.”

  “I’ll be the one to tell you.”

  The knight threw a glance in the direction of the fidgeting grandmaster. “After all, the affair was entrusted to me, not to you.”

  “As you wish,” der Bottom replied casually as he extended his hands toward the fire.

  “You see, Laird,” Gunther said, pacing up and down the hall, “our order was founded to serve the goddess, who left this world long ago. You’re aware of that.”

  I nodded to show that I was aware.

  “The goddess adored peace and called on us all to do everything in our power not to break it, as she hated violence and bloodshed. The first knights of the order were unarmed and unarmored. They visited those who shed blood in nothing but their robes in an effort to make them rethink their ways. In nearly every case, they were killed. Evil, alas, cannot be stopped by the word alone in this world and its imperfection.”

  “A kind word and a sword are always better than a kind word alone,” I noted, to turn a phrase.

  “Precisely. Well said, as always. Was that the samurai as well?” Young Gunther may have been enjoying a higher social status, but he was as inquisitive as ever.

  “No, that was someone else, though he was an excellent gentleman also. So what happened then?”

  “Well, when nearly all the founders of the order were dead, one of the last to remain in the ranks of the living decided that, if they couldn’t stop evil with words alone, their task was to take up swords and use them to turn the tide.”

  An excellent approach. I think that’s how the Inquisition started, in fact…

  “That knight’s name was Sonarola, and he became the first Great Magistrate of our order. Our order still stands on the foundation he built. No matter who stands before us, be he a plowman or a king, we care only about one thing: does he live justly? And that is why the könig of the North requested our aid.”

  “The order has a special relationship with the North,” noted der Bottom from the fireplace. “The North is our cradle, and it’s where our first stronghold was built, although it has long since been abandoned. Most of our recruits come from the North because our influence is strongest here.”

  “It’s true,” said von Richter, nodding. “Every word of it. That’s why the chapter sent me here to see what’s going on.”

  “And what is going on?” I was getting a bit fed up with all the beating around the bush.

  “The chapter is of the opinion that the North has become the board for a game being played very unfairly,” Gunther replied, his voice rising. “The rixes of four burgs have died for no apparent reason, all of them being strong, healthy men and warriors. The Claptorn rix is missing without a trace. It’s like he was never here, to begin with.”

  “The Hexburg rix is dead. You were with the könig when we got the news,” der Bottom said to the knight. “The official version is that he was torn apart by a pack of wolves, but the question remains: what was he doing outside his burg last night?”

  “Exactly,” I said helpfully. “I just came from Hexburg, and the guards told me they had no idea where or why he’d gone.”

  “The rest of the rixes are traders, not warriors,” continued Gunther. “It feels like someone’s clearing the board of all the strong players who could put up a fight. Do you play tafl[4], by the way?”

  Gunther had dropped the official, respectful tone he’d always maintained with me, and I couldn’t have been happier.

  “I do, and I understand what you’re trying to say. Someone’s making a play to set up puppets in key positions, right?”

  “Exactly right, Laird. I need to know who and why. And I need to stop them. Would you help me—along with the rest of the order and the entire North? I remember how you found the witcher, and I think this assignment will be perfect for you. I’m no investigator; I’m a warrior. You’re a warrior, too, but you know how to uncover secrets as well.”

  “Well, I don’t have a choice, Good Knight; of course, I will.” I threw up my hands.

  You completed a quest: Disturbing News

  Reward:

  500 experience

  +1 respect among the peoples of the North

  “That’s fantastic, Laird Hagen…fantastic!” The knight slapped my chest. “Then it’s time for us to get going.”

  You have a new quest: Disturbing News in the Burgs

  This is the second in the Secrets of the North series of quests.

  Task: Visit six burgs in the North and figure out what could be behind the deaths of their rixes.

  Reward:

  800 experience

  Tearful Goddess Order Medallion

  +5 respect among the peoples of the North

  The next quest in the series

  “Hold on a second,” I said to Gunther. “We’re getting the cart before the horse.”

  “What do you mean?” The knight looked at me in surprise.

  “Your friend is obviously hinting that we haven’t discussed the reward he’ll get for his help,” the voice from the fireplace said sarcastically.

  Okay, that does it. “Stop it,” I said quietly, though sharply. “Not everything can be measured in terms of money. And just because gold is more important than anything else to you, doesn’t mean that the rest of the world is the same as you.”

  The chair screeched as it was thrown backward and the fat little blob appeared next to me. Der Bottom’s eyes flashed. Well, isn’t that interesting; he’s a warrior, too, and not just a lazy, clever little fatty. I’d have never thought it.

  “I’d stuff those words right back down your throat if you weren’t a friend of the order, protected by the law. But I’m patient enough to wait for when I do have the chance,” the grandmaster said penetratingly and in a singsong voice.

  “I sincerely hope that you don’t have to wait long,” I answered in kind.

  He had really gotten on my nerves.

  “You insulted the laird first by supposing that he holds money and profit in higher regard than honor and friendship,” von Richter said evenly, “and so, at the close of my mission, you will fight, though it will not be with him. You will fight me, as the law says nothing about that. And for now, this conversation is finished. What did you
want to say, Hagen?”

  “I just meant that you’ve already talked with the könig, and I haven’t. He may know something we don’t, so I’d like to have a chat with him.”

  “He doesn’t know anything.” Gunther shrugged. “He’d have told me if he did. Plus, the könig is grieving. His daughter was kidnapped three days ago. I offered to help find her, but he said that I already have enough on my plate.”

  “Then that’s one more reason to talk to him,” I replied, rubbing my hands. “I happen to know something about his daughter.”

  “Really?” asked von Richter, perking up. “Then, of course, we’ll definitely talk to him. You can ask your questions at the same time.”

  “Will he give us an audience right now?” I asked doubtfully.

  “Certainly. The highest ranks in the order have the right to an audience any time of day or night if the issue concerns the safety of the region or the könig’s family. That’s a law of the North.”

  “What are we waiting for then?”

  Neither of us bothered to say goodbye to der Bottom.

  Chapter Twelve

  In which the hero learns quite a bit about the könig and his entourage.

  The könig’s palace was absolutely the largest building in Holmstag. I hadn’t found time to visit the palace of the sultan in Selgar or the royal castle in Aegan—I’d had too much to do and didn’t have a reason to visit. I imagined it would have been hard to get in without a quest anyway, given that royal families don’t tend to be all that accessible to the public. I wasn’t sure how enjoyable the others would have been, but this one was quite somber.

  The palace guard—made up entirely of muscular, bearded gentlemen—let von Richter through without question, but the faces they made at me were more menacing than welcoming.

  “Is the könig expecting you?” bellowed one of them, replete with a red beard done up in braids. It’s like he has dreadlocks hanging off his chin.

  “He’s with me,” Gunther said with authority.

  “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” mumbled the mustache as he slid his ax back into the loop on his belt. “You get all kinds gallivanting around here, and then the könig’s daughter goes missing.”

  I walked into the palace thinking to myself about how I’d have to go back and talk to those fine young men once I got the quest. They may know something I’d like to hear. Who exactly comes “gallivanting around”?

  “Hey, isn’t the könig’s guard a bit odd?” I asked Gunther as we walked up the stairs. “They’re not in uniform, and they look kind of…wild.”

  “That’s not the city guard,” answered Gunther. “They’re mercenaries from the Sea Kings, Torville Magnusson’s hird—the best swords on the coast. As soon as Ulfrida went missing three days ago, the könig turned the head of the city guard into a blood eagle before beheading every third guard who was on watch the night it happened. That same day, he signed an agreement with Torville, and the mercenaries took up their posts. It’s not that the könig thinks his guards are involved; the whole thing is just very strange.”

  “Got it.” I nodded. “The könig sounds pretty harsh.”

  “He is that,” agreed Gunther, “though he’s fair. In my opinion, he was right on the money. Like I said, everything that’s going on in the North points to some sort of foul play, and for those thugs, their honor is their life. Well, of course, as much as you can say that they have honor. But I’ll admit that I’ve never heard of a Sea King going back on his word or retreating in battle after signing a contract.”

  “And it also makes sense to have the best swords on the coast in his pocket rather than in someone else’s, given the times,” I responded, continuing his thought.

  “That, too.” Gunther stopped in front of tall double doors. “This is the könig’s chamber.”

  “Where’s the steward or herald?” I asked in surprise. “Isn’t someone supposed to let him know that we’re here?”

  “Welcome to the North,” said Gunther with a grunt. “We’ll tell him ourselves. Out of the whole pack you see around the king in the West, I’ve only see two here: his cupbearer and his lover. Even then, the cupbearer has the proud name of ‘Hey, you in the beard, pour me some ale,’ and his lover is whatever woman happens to turn up right when the cupbearer’s services are no longer needed.”

  He knocked before calling out into the room on the other side of the doors, “König, it’s Gunther von Richter on business. Can I come in?”

  “I swear, you’re in here more often than I’m out visiting girls,” said a husky voice. “Didn’t you just leave?”

  “I have news, könig,” replied the knight with a laugh. “Good news.”

  “Then get in here! Why are you still out there?”

  “Let’s go.” Gunther gestured with his head and walked in.

  The hall was large and much more humbly decorated than the order mission. On the walls, hung weapons, the steel of which had clearly spilled a good deal of blood. The battleaxes and rounded swords dully gleamed with a reflection of the flames burning in the enormous fireplace.

  In the middle of the hall, was a big, low-set table with benches set up around it. On the other side, was a tall, burly, bearded man with long, tangled hair already streaked with gray. In front of him, were a large cup and a dish with pieces of meat piled high.

  “Who’s that with you?” asked the könig. (Who else could it have been?)

  “Laird Hagen of Tronje, a renowned warrior from the West, a most worthy gentleman, and my friend.”

  “Yes? Then he can stay, by Nidhogg. Hey, paunchy!” he roared suddenly. “Ale for my guests and something to eat!”

  “We’re not hungry,” von Richter said hurriedly, apparently knowing something I didn’t.

  “Who cares? Don’t eat it if you don’t want it,” the könig responded indifferently.

  We sat down across from him.

  “König Harald Snorrison, Lord of the North, its capital, the eight burgs, the coast, the far mosses, and three hills,” he informed me, wiping a hand on his hair and holding it out to me.

  “Laird Hagen of Tronje, my own master.” I shook his hand.

  “A skald, are you?” The könig’s bleary eyes stared at me.

  “Why would you say that?” I asked, taken aback.

  “You just said that smoothly,” noted Snorrison. “It was just so-so in general, but it was smooth, at least.”

  “It just happened that way,” I admitted. “I’m no poet.”

  “You’re not what?”

  “A skald,” I translated. “We’re warriors. Though we’re good at finding people, too, if that’s what you need.”

  “Really?” The könig’s eyes suddenly cleared as he glanced over at von Richter, who was squeamishly sniffing the foam-covered mug a tubby man in a greasy shirt had placed in front of him. I had one in front of me, too, in fact.

  “It’s true,” said von Richter. “He can; I’ve seen him do it. And he’ll keep the whole thing a secret, too. Oh, and könig, he knows something about your daughter, which is why we hurried over.”

  “What do you know? Tell me everything,” the könig demanded, staring closely at me.

  “No, könig, we can’t start with that,” I replied firmly.

  “What?” he exploded. “You’re giving me orders now? I’m the könig here, and I decide who will tell me what and when! How long has it been since you had your ribs straightened?”

  “Ooph, I’ve never had them straightened,” I said, spitting over my shoulder. “And I’d rather not start!”

  “Well, I can make that happen,” the könig replied, suddenly amiable again. “It’s easy. One snap of my fingers, and you’re tied to the ground while they slo-o-owly slice into the skin on your back.”

  “I don’t doubt that it would happen just like that,” I assured him. “But still, you tell me what you know first. Just be detailed and tell me everything—that’s the only way.”

  “Are you out of
your mind?” The könig stared at me. “You’re giving me orders in my own chamber. What happened to the world? There’s no respect for the monarchy anymore.”

  “König Harald, he really does know what he’s talking about.” Gunther looked at the suddenly depressed Lord of the North, aggrieved by the shattered foundations of his absolutism. “I know you trust me, and I trust Hagen as myself. Just do what he says.”

  “I know, I know,” the könig replied ruefully. “I’m just sad and afraid for my daughter—she’s my only one. And well done by you, my friend. You’re no coward, and I respect that.”

  He took a long pull from his barrel-like mug.

  You made a good impression on the König of the North.

  +0.5 respect among the peoples of the North

  “König, we shouldn’t waste time,” I said, trying to hurry him as he halved the drink in large gulps and set his powerful Nordic jaws to work on the nearly raw meat on his plate.

  “So what should I tell you?”

  “Everything you know about the disappearance of your daughter. Every little detail, since the details are sometimes what let you get to the bottom of things.”

  The sad lord of three hills informed me that he didn’t know any details since the whole thing was simple and straightforward. That evening, Ulfrida was having fun and making plenty of noise. But, in keeping with tradition, she started yelling at him closer to nightfall about how he drank too much and needed to stop sleeping around. Kids these days, he said, don’t respect their parents anymore, or at least not how they used to. König Harald himself was afraid of Snorry Big-Bellied until the end of his days. Even when the old man was laid on his funeral pyre, Harald was too afraid to walk nearby. But now…

  “König, sir, you’re getting away from the main story,” I said, interrupting him.

  “You said yourself that I should give you all the details,” he responded reproachfully.

  “I meant the details about the disappearance, not about how kids these days don’t have any manners.”

  “What did you say?” The könig frowned. “Gunther, tell your friend to watch his tone while he’s a guest of the Lord of the Northern Mark.”