a friendly, persuasive voice. “In the short time that she has enjoyed my hospitality Orianus’s daughter has undergone a transformation. The threat of torture and the news that Elerian was slain when he attempted to leave Iulius to search for her have quite crushed her spirit. Under the right circumstances I believe you might now gain both her gratitude and her affection, but she must entertain no suspicions that you were involved in her abduction.
“You are certain that the outlander is dead?” inquired Merula eagerly, his blue eyes bright with the intensity of his hate for Elerian.
“Stone cold dead,” replied Torquatus, his face and voice betraying not a flicker of emotion as he told the lie. “With her paramour deceased, I think that were I to arrange for you to rescue Orianus’s daughter, she would look on you favorably, perhaps favorably enough to wed you in time. Were we then to arrange for her brother to disappear, you might still be king of Tarsius.” A benign expression on his lean face and treachery in his dark heart, Torquatus fell silent, giving Merula time to consider his words.
“I have offered the bait,” Torquatus thought to himself, highly pleased with his own cleverness. “Let us see now if this fool will gulp it down.”
“What would you require of me if I gained Anthea’s hand?” Merula asked eventually, his voice full of skepticism. “I suspect my gratitude alone would not suffice,” he added sarcastically.
“I would ask only for the tribute and men that you promised me before,” replied Torquatus in a reasonable voice. “Those two things and your continued goodwill are all that I desire in return for my aid.” Although skeptical of this pledge of friendship, Merula carefully kept his face impassive as weighed the choices before him.
“Two alternatives, both with their own risks,” he thought to himself. “If I give in to the fire in my blood and possess Anthea now, I will be forever beholden to this Goblin, forced to beg his permission each time that I wish to visit her. If I agree with his plan, I run the risk of losing Anthea, for even with the outlander gone, she may not favor me.” Desire warred with reason as Merula mulled his choices, but in the end his conceit inclined him to the riskier but more logical second choice. “I will choose patience over gratification,” he decided. “Now that her infatuation with this Elerian has ended, Anthea cannot help but recognize that I am the most worthy of her hand,” he assured himself. “If Dacien can be got rid of, I will realize both my ambitions with this second choice. I will possess Anthea and rule in Tarsius.”
“I will wait then as you suggest,” said Merula at last.
“In that case I will immediately send an Ancharian across the Arvina who will pretend to reveal the location of Orianus’s daughter for gold,” replied Torquatus. “A quick sortie across the river and she will be yours.”
“Send the Ancharian then,” assented Merula. “After I return to Niveaus, I will wait for a message concerning Anthea to arrive from Silanus. In two days’ time, at most, I will cross the Arvina with a portion of the force that I have already assembled in Niveaus.”
“One last warning before you go,” added Torquatus carelessly, as if the matter had little import. “The potion the woman drank has temporarily muddled her mind. She may forget things or act strangely for a time, but with your help, she will fully recover her senses.”
“I will bear that in mind,” replied Merula curtly. Without a backward look he walked away, missing entirely the gloating look that appeared on the Goblin King’s face.
“Hurry home my friend,” thought Torquatus vindictively to himself as he closed his portal. “I have a surprise prepared for you. One which will seal your fate and that of your nation as you will discover when it is too late.”
Several hours later, after the expected message concerning Anthea’s location
“You are certain that the outlander is dead?” inquired Merula eagerly, his blue eyes bright with the intensity of his hate for Elerian.
“Stone cold dead,” replied Torquatus, his face and voice betraying not a flicker of emotion as he told the lie. “With her paramour deceased, I think that were I to arrange for you to rescue Orianus’s daughter, she would look on you favorably, perhaps favorably enough to wed you in time. Were we then to arrange for her brother to disappear, you might still be king of Tarsius.” A benign expression on his lean face and treachery in his dark heart, Torquatus fell silent, giving Merula time to consider his words.
“I have offered the bait,” Torquatus thought to himself, highly pleased with his own cleverness. “Let us see now if this fool will gulp it down.”
“What would you require of me if I gained Anthea’s hand?” Merula asked eventually, his voice full of skepticism. “I suspect my gratitude alone would not suffice,” he added sarcastically.
“I would ask only for the tribute and men that you promised me before,” replied Torquatus in a reasonable voice. “Those two things and your continued goodwill are all that I desire in return for my aid.” Although skeptical of this pledge of friendship, Merula carefully kept his face impassive as weighed the choices before him.
“Two alternatives, both with their own risks,” he thought to himself. “If I give in to the fire in my blood and possess Anthea now, I will be forever beholden to this Goblin, forced to beg his permission each time that I wish to visit her. If I agree with his plan, I run the risk of losing Anthea, for even with the outlander gone, she may not favor me.” Desire warred with reason as Merula mulled his choices, but in the end his conceit inclined him to the riskier but more logical second choice. “I will choose patience over gratification,” he decided. “Now that her infatuation with this Elerian has ended, Anthea cannot help but recognize that I am the most worthy of her hand,” he assured himself. “If Dacien can be got rid of, I will realize both my ambitions with this second choice. I will possess Anthea and rule in Tarsius.”
“I will wait then as you suggest,” said Merula at last.
“In that case I will immediately send an Ancharian across the Arvina who will pretend to reveal the location of Orianus’s daughter for gold,” replied Torquatus. “A quick sortie across the river and she will be yours.”
“Send the Ancharian then,” assented Merula. “After I return to Niveaus, I will wait for a message concerning Anthea to arrive from Silanus. In two days’ time, at most, I will cross the Arvina with a portion of the force that I have already assembled in Niveaus.”
“One last warning before you go,” added Torquatus carelessly, as if the matter had little import. “The potion the woman drank has temporarily muddled her mind. She may forget things or act strangely for a time, but with your help, she will fully recover her senses.”
“I will bear that in mind,” replied Merula curtly. Without a backward look he walked away, missing entirely the gloating look that appeared on the Goblin King’s face.
“Hurry home my friend,” thought Torquatus vindictively to himself as he closed his portal. “I have a surprise prepared for you. One which will seal your fate and that of your nation as you will discover when it is too late.”
Several hours later, after the expected message concerning Anthea’s location
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