Lestor den Varga groaned, begging his stomach to hold its contents. The saddle jerked and tossed him about, his safety harness threatening to tear away as the falco banked hard right and fell into a free fall.
“Prepare for landing, Master Varga!” Perl’s muffled words struggled against the wind beating at Lestor’s ears.
The falco flapped its massive wings in a flurry, talons stretched wide. The impact threw Lestor backward. “Damn it, Perl!” He said. “Your landings get worse as the day goes on.”
Perl threw the reins into the air, spinning in his seat. “Ya think this easy, do ya? By god, ya can take a horse home, then!”
“Moons, man. Get a hold of yourself."
"Hmpf, I told you that cargo be too heavy,” Perl said. “Can’t get the levels right.”
Lestor unfastened his belts and climbed down. He stretched, then stared back up at Perl. “Well?”
“What?”
“The cargo?”
Perl stared back at Lestor, face red and mouth working. “I been carrying that damn thing back and forth all day!”
“One more time, Perl. I promise.”
“Bah!” He hopped down, unlatching the cargo hold, mumbling as he worked, but Lestor caught his musings on ‘damn nobles’ and ‘backseat drivers.’
Lestor ran a hand over his hair and straightened his coats. He glanced back at Perl, who stood with a leatherbound trunk. The man had wild gray hair and disheveled shirt untucked from his trousers. He looked homeless.
"I swear to the Moon," he said, "the next sour word and ya can carry this damn trunk yaself!"
Lestor stared a moment, then turned and headed toward the Nusian gate. “Shall we, Perl?”
#
Lord Delos en Lis hurried along the back corridor to the meeting hall, threw open the doors and rushed into the room. Thero, Heronidus and the others were already waiting.
"What is the news, my Lord?" Thero said.
"I know no more than you, Thero." Fool man.
Delos crossed the room, then climbed the steps to his chair. “Is he alone?”
“Him and a servant.” Venoit said, standing at the steps. “Flew in by falco an hour ago."
"And? Are they dead?"
Venoit shrugged. "He requested audience, that was all."
Delos' nerves were tied in a knot. If Raz was back so soon, it could mean there was trouble. Or he could have finished the job already. He smiled. With those men dead, and continued support from Lords Vellimir and Kallus, he would be one election away from winning his seat on the Ruling Board of Nereth. Kings were crowned from that Board!
So exciting! He felt like a child who was about to win his first game of pillars!
He sat back in his chair, imagining how good it would look as a throne, then nodded toward Heronidus at the rear of the room. He opened the door and allowed the young man who called himself Raz to enter. The room fell silent as the fine dressed man walked in. He looked different without the beard, but the best assassins never kept the same appearance. He admired the man's craft. A dirty looking fellow followed behind carrying a large burden.
Raz stopped before the Speaker's Podium, then nodded to his man to set the trunk on the nearby table.
"Greetings, Raz." Delos leaned forward, unable to hide the smile on his lips. "You look in good spirits. I trust you are well."
Raz smiled back. "Ah, I am indeed. A little worn out, but I've had to make several questionable falco flights today."
The dirty fellow seemed to murmur something.
Delos laughed. Raz had done it. He would not come back with such an air if he had failed. The Board was his!
High Lord Delos en Lis! Future heir to the Kingdom of Nereth!
Raz glanced around the room. "I see everyone is here."
"That they are," Delos said. "When word came of your return, we were all anxious to hear the news."
Raz grunted, then his smile disappeared. He nodded to his man, his smile returning as he stepped up to the podium. The old man began to unlatch the bundle.
"Well," Raz said. "Since all here are in the know, let us speak frankly."
"Yes," Delos said, watching as the leather bundle gave way to an engraved trunk, set with gold trim and delicate sculpture. A stunning peice it was. "Please, do."
"Very well.” He cleared his throat. “Lords Gamius, Casto and Frumair are all live and well."
Delos blinked. "What?"
"The men you hired me to kill?" Raz scratched his ear. "They are alive."
"What do you mean they are alive?" Thero took a step toward the podium. "We paid you to deal with them."
"Yes," Raz said. "The coin. Those three thank you for your donations to thier campaign."
Delos sputtered. "Wha-what are you talking about?"
"What is this, boy?" Thero pointed his finger. "What game are you playing?"
"Excuse me," Raz said. "Let me explain. My name is actually Lestor den Varga."
Delos choked, chills surging down his spine. Varga...
"You know my father, King Lenoit den Varga. Word of your little scheme reached him rather quickly. Thank the Moon for Varga Loyalists!" Lestor laughed, then his smile vanished. He nodded at his man, who dumped the contents of the trunk.
Five heads rolled across the table.
Delos jumped to his feet. He felt ready to sick up at the sight. The others in the room moved back, bumping into chairs. Thero ran for the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Delos recognized two of those faces in the pile. Lords Vellimir and Kallus.
"Everyone in this room is guilty of attempted murder of government officials.” Lestor said. “I am here to make sure your sentences are carried out."
No! This can’t be happening!
Heronidus leaped at Lestor, knife flashing. Lestor raised his hand and squeezed the air, stopping the man in his tracks. Heronidus squeeled, his back bent backward in an arch. A loud pop bent him in half and he collapsed.
Lestor opened his hand, staring back at Delos, puffs of smoke flowing from his nose.
Moons, he was a Binder! Delos couldn't stop his trembling. He was about to be a dead man.
"It was quite the task to find the roots of this plot," Lestor said, "but here you have it." He waved a hand over the table. "I'm sorry to tell you, you were more of a pawn in this plan, Delos. Vellimir and Kallus wanted to eliminate you afterward. These two here," he pointed, "were hired to poison you before the elections."
Betrayed!
"Oh, and this last one is the real Raz," Lestor said. "I was able to catch up with him before he met with you. I took his place, you see.” He walked toward Delos and reached out to grab Venoit’s hand. “Thanks are in order, Venoit. Or should I say, Lord Venoit."
Delos spun toward his friend. "You? It was you?"
Venoit smirked. “I was Varga’s pupil, Delos. He’s practically family. Do you really think I would let you sit at his table?”
“I’ll kill you!” Delos took a step forward, then his knee erupted in a flash of pain. The crack echoed in his skull as he hit the ground screaming.
#
Lestor watched Delos and the rest of the criminals led away in chains. They would be executed before nightfall.
Perl waited by the falco. “Looks like we are done for the day, Perl.”
“Good,” he said, tapping the trunk secured in the cargo bay. “Don’t think I can take the smell again.”
“Erm, Perl.” Lestor grimaced. “Did you carry that all the way back down here?”
“Of course I did. Not like I can order nobles about.” Perl grabbed the reins, about to climb into his saddle, then turned toward Lestor. “Why?”
“Didn’t I say you only needed to carry it once more? I thought you realized that meant taking it in, not back out again. We don’t need that any longer, you see. I’m sure Venoit would have had someone take care of it.”
Perl’s face reddened and his eye twitched. He tried to speak, but meaningless sounds was all he could manage.
“Sorry, Perl,” Lestor said. “Seriously, you need to work on that temper.” Lestor smiled to himself, then climbed into his saddle. What would he do without Perl to haze? A few more trips together and Perl would make rank of Binder.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Perl flailed about.
Hmm. Perhaps he should make him a Binder when they returned. Poor man was about to crack.
