Realms of Infamy - James Lowder [130]
"Dolt," snarled the nobleman. "I know good Tethyrian port from chamber pot lees like this." He spat a blob of crimson spittle onto the Shou carpet at his feet. "You've switched the good port with the servants' dregs, haven't you?"
Uther scowled, the tip of one fang protruding over his lower lip. "That is a grave accusation, milord. I assure you I would never do such a thing. I value my position here too highly to even consider it."
Sir Hamnet leapt from his chair and came face-to-chest with the monstrous butler. "If I say you did it, you did! How dare you challenge my word!" He grabbed for the rapier that hung at his hip during expeditions, but his fingers closed on empty air. "You're fortunate I've left my blade at my quarters, you impertinent behemoth, or I'd have flayed a layer or two of leather from you-just as a reminder."
"I'll need no reminder, Sir Hamnet," Uther said, voice as dead as the stuffed yeti in the corner. "You've impressed your point quite forcefully on me. In fact, if you look around, I think you'll find that you've made it clear to everyone that I've overstepped my position."
Sir Hamnet Hawklin surveyed the now-silent library. He was not surprised to find more than one head nodding in support of him.
With a swiftness not unlike that of the treacherous animals he so despised, the nobleman turned and triumphantly shattered his port glass in the fireplace. For an instant the fragments flashed, starlike, against the sooty backdrop of the chimney. Then the wine-wet shards rained down on the blazing logs. The fire hissed angrily with a sound like a sword tip sliding across stone.
"I'll see to it you're out of this club and begging along the Promenade by morning," Sir Hamnet announced. He met the butler's unblinking gaze and paused, silently daring Uther to reply.
A tense, unpleasant hush settled over the library, broken only by the hissing fire. It was Gareth Truesilver who finally ended the confrontation. Some little part of him pitied Uther, but mostly he feared that prolonging the menial's degradation might cast Sir Hamnet as cruel.
The captain took the nobleman by the arm and guided him back to his chair. "You've made your case against Uther so well that even the gods agree," Truesilver noted loudly. "When a fire hisses like that, it's supposed to be an echo of Lliira's laughter. Our Lady of Joy finds great mirth in a fool being exposed-and you've certainly revealed Uther as a fool. You'll find no debate about that here."
The clubmen took their cue from the captain and voiced soft support for Sir Hamnet before going back to their drinks or their books or their chessboards. But the nobleman would not be placated so easily. He pulled away from Truesilver and said contentiously, "That story's wrong. It's faint-hearted nonsense meant to help peasants sleep easier at night. The world's a much nastier place than that.
"Each time a fire cracks," Hamnet began as he settled into the comfortable confines of his armchair, "it's the sound of a man's spirit breaking. The hiss is Cyric's amused and satisfied sigh as he drags a condemned soul down to Bone Castle in Hades."
"That's not in your journals," Captain Truesilver noted as he perched casually on the arm of his chair. "You should set it down on paper-perhaps as an addendum to your essay on known magical gates to the Realm of the Dead."
"I never pen what I cannot prove," Sir Hamnet said grandly. "Though I have every reason to believe the tale's veracity, I would have to speak with Cyric himself to confirm it." Eyeing Truesilver frostily, the nobleman added, "That would be a suitable quest for you to undertake, Gareth. The Battle of the Golden Way was a long time ago. You can't live on past triumphs forever."
From where he knelt, working the port stains