The Mage in the Iron Mask - Brian Thomsen [73]
After two hours of unsuccessful tossing and turning, Captain Rickman returned to his office to do some paperwork, considering that to be a more productive alternative to lying sleepless in his bed. The halls were empty, and the chill of the Moonsea winds brought a coolness to his chambers that necessitated his drawing a blanket around his shoulders to keep warm. The single candelabrum that provided enough light to work by could not possibly also adequately heat the room.
"Brrr," the Hawk captain said aloud as he settled into the chair behind his desk, his mind not really on the paperwork that lay before him.
For months now, Rickman had been growing progressively more worried about Mulmaster's stability. The rebuilding of the navy was proceeding at a slower pace than even he had anticipated, and there was talk of civil unrest among the common folk, who still had not accepted the desirability of their alliance with Eltabbar.
For many, the diplomatic incentive of this alliance was overshadowed by the misalliance that was construed as the High Blade's marriage.
Initially, Rickman had every confidence that Selfaril knew what he was doing. The plot for the annexation of Eltabbar, and the subjugation of the Tharchioness, had seemed both sound and desirable, but now the captain of the Hawks was beginning to feel uneasy.
Rickman did not like the game of cat and mouse that the High Blade seemed to enjoy playing with his bride. Everything would have been much easier had he just confronted her with his knowledge of her treasonous plans, forcing her to abdicate to him the throne of Eltabbar… just before her execution for treason; but the High Blade had decided against this pragmatic course of action, and as a result that which had been a winning endgame was left as a fool's stalemate with both sides at the same point they were when the game started.
Eventually, Rickman realized, Selfaril would come to his senses and look for a scapegoat, and no minor functionary like Wattrous or Jembahb would do. The captain of the Hawks knew that his days as the High Blade's right-hand man were numbered, and, therefore, his days among the living were equally numbered. He only hoped that a plan for his own salvation would present itself.
His prayers (perhaps to Cyric, perhaps to Bane) were answered with an unexpected knock on his chamber door.
"Come in," he responded, his voice gravelly with night congestion.
The door opened and a spineless informant that Rickman recognized as his man in the Thayan embassy entered.
"Sir," said the man, whose name was Lendel, "I came by to drop off some recently acquired intelligence of great importance. I was going to drop it off at our usual place, the Warrior's Arena, but decided it couldn't wait. I had hopes of leaving it under your door so that you would see it the first thing tomorrow morn, but when I saw the light flickering under your door. I felt that it was best to deliver it to you personally."
"What is it?" the captain demanded. "Even though it is late, I hope you took precautions to avoid being followed. It would serve Mulmaster naught if we were to lose our ear within the enemy's embassy."
"I took every precaution I could," Lendel said obsequiously, "but I felt that this was worth the possibility of blowing my cover. Even so, I am fairly sure that I have managed to arrive here unobserved."
The captain of the Hawks stood up and said, "Then what is it?" at the same time noting to himself that perhaps the security around his own office should be increased.
"Here," Lendel said, taking a step forward and proffering his hand, which held a crumpled up note. "I found it in one of the ambassadors' trash."
Rickman read the note with great interest. "Do you believe it to be authentic?" he demanded.
"Yes, captain," Lendel answered. "This particular ambassador is not what anyone would call very bright. His carelessness is Mulmaster's gain."
"Agreed," said Rickman, tapping his forehead with the note as a plan began to present itself. "Remind me, Lendel," he asked, "who is