Chapter 36
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
It’s Monday, Monday, Monday, and that means a new ADTR chapter. We’re closing in on the end of this thing pretty quickly now.
Previously: Hax and Pax ran into strong headwinds trying to get back to Mac and the rest of the crew.
Currently: Mac, Gorm, and Wynne finally make it to the court of Eric Arbassis.
A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel that follows the Talon, a group of mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers, as they come face-to-face with an ancient enemy intent on the destruction of the Rakkian Empire.
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Chapter 36
Noisy petitioners crowded the hall. Merchants and travelers from half the empire stood, sat, or squatted in the wood-beamed entrance hall of Starholt. The heat from the braziers kept the growing winter chill away but filled the air with smoke. Mac bore it all stoically. If they could get in to see Eric Arbassis and tell their tale, they would win a powerful ally.
A guard poked his helmeted head around one of the iron-bound doors at the far end of the hall. “Aroz of Am!” he called.
A portly man wearing the fur-lined leathers of Am levered himself from a bench far up the hall from where the companions waited. “I am he!” the man said, waddling toward the door.
“We’re never going to get in,” Mac groused, dropping his head into his hands. A conservative estimate said at least forty others were awaiting an audience.
“Cheer up,” Wynne replied. “It’ll go faster than you think.”
Mac looked from Wynne’s well-meaning smile to the line of other supplicants and groaned. Close to a half-hour later, the heavyset merchant emerged, fur-lined hat in his hands and a scowl on his face. He marched straight down the hall and slammed through the doors at the far end.
“I guess his reception was not to his liking,” Gorm observed. The guard stuck his head through the door again and called another name. Another merchant, this one wearing the colors of the Andrades, rose and stepped forward. The door closed behind him with a hollow boom. A quarter-hour later, he returned, a victorious smile on his face as he left the hall. The guard called another name, and another merchant entered the chamber.
“We’ll be here until next Landing Day at this rate,” Mac growled. “C’mon,” he said, rising to his feet and heading down the hallway toward the audience chamber.
“Mac, what are we doing?” Gorm hissed, but Mac did not reply. He did not even slow down. Instead, he strode to the doors that led to the audience chamber and pushed the portal open.
“Here now!” squawked the guard on the other side. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Mac grabbed the guard and hauled him through the doorway and into the entry hall. “Now you listen up,” he told the startled man. “I have credible information that your lord’s life is in danger. You need to shut this hall down.”
“What’re you talking about?” the guard sputtered.
“Soldier, I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to you. Do it now!” Mac ordered.
The guard reacted instinctively, saluting Mac and rounding on the people gathered in the hall. “Right! You lot, out. Everyone out!” He punctuated his orders by drawing his sword. The effect was instantaneous. Confusion erupted among the gathered merchants and supplicants. Howls of anger vied with shouts of concern. In moments, other guards arrived to find out what the commotion was all about and began herding the people out of the hall.
Quite a few dark looks came Mac’s way as the realization of what he had done registered. Mac grinned and pushed through the door into the audience chamber, only to stop short as a spear blocked his path. “Not so fast,” another guard said. “Why do you think you can just waltz in here after that announcement? Perhaps you’re an assassin yourself.”
“Well, if I was an assassin, would I have bothered to announce myself?” Mac asked. He tried to move the spear out of the way, but the guard held it firm. “And don’t you think I would have tried to remove the guards too, and not only the people in the hall?”
The guard looked confused for a moment. “Maybe you have a point…” he trailed off.
“Of course he has a point, Harlow,” interjected a new voice. “He always has a point, but the validity of said point is often disputed.” The speaker was a powerful man gone slightly to seed. His hair and beard had grayed, his broad shoulders had rounded, and a layer of fat now covered his belly, but the shadow of his vigor remained.
Mac’s grin faded. “I suppose you remember me, my lord,” he said, sketching a quick half-bow.
“That I do. You look more like your father every time we meet.” He stood and walked toward a table laden with food and drink. “Don’t stand there gawping, Toth. Come in and tell me why my life’s in danger.”
Mac gestured for the others to join him as he stepped into the audience chamber proper. “Well, I might have been stretching the truth a little.”
“You don’t say.” Arbassis’ tone was sardonic. He poured water into a goblet. “I can’t say that I’m shocked. But I’m assuming that you do have a reason for disrupting things? It’ll be a fortnight before people find something else to talk about.” Arbassis gave each of the Talon an appraising glance and nodded to Gorm. “Good to see that you’re still with him, Thistlegorm. At least one of you has some sense.”
Gorm grinned in response. “Good to see you, Lord Arbassis,” he said.
Arbassis waved his courtesy away. “We can dispense with the formalities, I think,” he said. “Call me Eric. We’ve known one another long enough.” He glanced at Mac. “And some of our families have known one another for centuries.”
Mac’s smile faded. Arbassis was referring to the once close relationship between their Houses, a bond that Toth’s eradication had surely severed.
“We’ve no wish to trade on long-dead friendships,” he said.
Arbassis’s expression was unreadable. “Well enough. So, why are you in my hall dressed like traders from Longacre?”
Mac frowned. What was he to say? How did one tell the head of a Great House that the empire he served was in imminent danger? What’s more, how did he make the man see the threat to his own house?
“We need to talk,” he said at last. “There are things afoot that threaten the stability of the House of Stars.”
Arbassis raised an eyebrow. “There are always things that threaten the stability of my House. How is today any different?”
“Well, unless you’ve faced a threat that could come from anywhere or anyone at any time, I think this warrants some attention.”
Arbassis laughed, spilling water from his goblet. “Very well, you’ve piqued my curiosity if nothing else. Spin your tale for me, and we’ll leave the rest for later.”
Mac glanced pointedly at the guards surrounding their lord and the few remaining courtiers. Emotions flitted across Arbassis’ face, from surprise to concern to curiosity. “You feel it’s that serious?” he asked. Arbassis pondered the request for a moment before conceding. “Please leave us,” he ordered.
“My lord, no,” the guard named Harlow protested, but Arbassis waved him off. “Go on. I won’t come to harm. After all, if I were to meet an untimely demise, who else would there be to blame?” Harlow did not appear appeased, but he followed orders and left.
“Please, continue,” Arbassis said to Mac as the door closed.
Mac ran a hand through his hair. Where to begin? He had rehearsed this several times, but now that he was in the moment, all his thoughts had flown. Maybe it would be best to start from the beginning.
“Several months back, we found ourselves near the southern tip of Aeth,” he began.
“Somewhere near that station of Thynne’s I have no doubt,” Arbassis laughed.
Mac shot a look at Gorm. “Someone’s been talking.”
Gorm shrugged. “Sounds like maybe your friend in Scylline’s Cross has a longer reach than you thought.”
It was Mac’s turn to shrug before returning to the tale. “Because it bears on the discussion at hand, yes, we were there.”
Arbassis’s eyes widened at the admission, but he said nothing. Wynne coughed pointedly, but Mac ignored her.
“I want this discussion to be based on trust, and the only way to achieve that is if we’re honest. Everything that follows links directly to that particular job. Every woeful, miserable hour we’ve spent is because of our actions that night. Meeting Kye, the ambush on the road north, the events in Rom…it all leads back to that night.”
“I’m willing to overlook any possible irregularities in what you have to tell me if it means we can get on with this,” Arbassis growled.
“What? Oh. Well, thanks for that,” Mac replied. “So, we broke into Thynne’s way station. That’s where we found a kidnapped member of the Faceless and some rather interesting documents.”
Mac outlined the entire affair, from discovering the hidden documents and finding Kye chained to the wall to the ambush on the road to Scylline’s Cross. He skipped over the fight with Murphy but detailed finding the burning merchant ship and the monstrosity they had discovered in its hold. Helped by Gorm and Wynne, he explained their discoveries in Rom. Bitterly, he recounted Holua’s betrayal and capture by slavers, while Gorm told of the battle with Holua’s people and learning that one of their own had been replaced by a shape-changer. Arbassis listened intently throughout the recounting, stopping to ask clarifying points here and there. He showed great interest in the shape changers, but also in Kye and her abilities.
“Where is the girl now?” he asked when Mac’s tale ended.
“Gone west for training,” Mac replied. He had been especially vague about Kye’s whereabouts after the incident in Rakka and had not mentioned Molly at all. Her freedom of movement depended on her independence from the Talon and from Mac himself. “We felt it best that she try to master whatever talent she might have so as not to pose a danger to herself or others.”
“A wise decision, that,” Arbassis agreed. Then another thought occurred to him. “These shape changers, you’ve encountered them several times throughout the empire. That tells me their network is widespread. You think they’ve penetrated the Isle of Stars?”
Mac shrugged. “It’s impossible to say, but I would have to suspect at least some have landed on your shores.”
Arbassis leaned back in his chair, chin in one hand. “And yet identifying them seems impossible in most cases.”
Mac shook his head. “It was only because of Callan that Derro’s replacement was discovered. If not for that, he’d be with us still, and we would be none the wiser. In Scylline’s Cross, Rom, and Rakka, there was nothing to distinguish them from anyone else.” He stopped and thought for a moment. “It was only the one that we found on the sinking merchanter that looked something other than human.”
“Just so,” Gorm agreed.
“So, how am I to trust that you are who you claim to be?”
Mac was prepared for the question. He was only surprised that Arbassis had waited so long to ask it. “From what we surmise, they can mimic someone perfectly, but not in all aspects. It seems they can’t absorb deep memories.” He glanced at Arbassis. “You want proof? Ask.”
Arbassiss’s eyes glittered. “I have but your word on that, Macland. For all I know, you’re all shape changers who’ve stolen others’ bodies and are feeding me what I want to hear.”
Mac sputtered for a moment, but it was Gorm who stepped in. “My lord, you can’t have it both ways. Either we are who we say we are, or we’re not. You can either trust us or not.” He glanced at his companions before pushing on. “Put me to the sword now, though, ‘cause I don’t want to see what happens when the shape changers reach their ultimate goal.”
Arbassis barked laughter. “Sit down, Thistlegorm. I’d be a fool not to trust the word of a Path Walker, and Macland’s not a total loss there, either. I’ll concede that you are who you claim to be.” He pointed a finger at Gorm. “You do bring up a couple of interesting questions, though.”
Mac raised an eyebrow, and Gorm waited patiently.
“What is their goal? What do they want?”
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I really enjoyed Mac just waltzing right up and commanding the guard. Sometimes you have to try it!