Agent of the Dragon

“How can you stand her?” Sterling waved a wooden spoon in the general direction of the sunroom.

Mieryth, who had just left Taryn in the sunroom to fetch some tea, shrugged. “Do I have much choice? Besides, there are too many things here that interest me to risk being reassigned to the Bandar manor in the city.”

“You’d get more respect there.”

“Respect is nice. I have that here, too, if not from Taryn.”

Sterling searched her face for any trace of irony or sarcasm, and grunted when he didn’t find any. “I just don’t understand it, that’s all. At least let me add something to the tea. She won’t taste it, I promise.”

Mieryth laughed. “No, Sterling. I always try to give the best service I can.” She picked up the tea tray. “And right now that means taking this to her in the sunroom.”

“The offer’s still open,” Sterling called after her.

Out of earshot or line of sight, Rhysa dropped the Mieryth act for a bit. This was getting ridiculous. She had created Mieryth for this assignment, and now she was reluctant to fully assume the persona because she’d done too good a job. Instead, she pretended to assume the persona. She’d have laughed at the irony if she weren’t caught in the middle of it. Voices drifted from around a corner, and she resumed her pretense.

The voices turned out to be a couple of maids giggling over something they’d seen or heard Lord Camyrn do. Mieryth gave them a cheerful greeting, which they returned. They would have stopped to include her, but she hefted the tray slightly. They nodded their understanding, shrugged their helplessness, and continued past Mieryth still giggling.

Mieryth entered the sunroom, and Taryn looked up from the book she was reading. “What did you do, flirt with every male on the way?”

“No, m’Lady.” Mieryth kept her voice light and level. “I had Sterling make a fresh pot.”

Taryn grunted. “I’ll bet that wasn’t the only thing that was fresh.”

Rhysa felt the Mieryth mask slip a little in anger. Fortunately, Taryn was busy pouring tea for the second it took for Rhysa to put the mask back in place. “M’Lady?” She tried to turn her anger into the slightest hint of rebuke.

“What? You didn’t think Sterling cozying up to you hadn’t been noticed?” The shadow of a sneer touched Taryn’s face. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t interfere. As long as you two are in bed together, you won’t be seducing my husband.”

Rage burned away the Mieryth mask, and Rhysa stood white-faced and glaring at Taryn, who merely looked at her and smiled maliciously. “A sensitive subject, it seems.”

Rhysa managed to get herself back in control, and put the Mieryth mask back on. Hopefully, Taryn hadn’t noticed the switch. When Mieryth spoke at last, it was with a calm and level voice. “Is there anything else m’Lady requires?”

Taryn pondered Mieryth over a refilled cup of tea. “No. But you’re going to stay here anyway. I won’t give you a chance to seduce Camyrn.”

Mieryth felt a muscle in her jaw twitch; nevertheless, she curtsied and murmured an acknowledgement. She stood against one wall and fumed; she hadn’t so much as seen Camyrn since he arrived, much less had the opportunity to seduce him. Not that she wanted to.

She thought about her true assignment: find out about The Primacy. She was sure Taryn wasn’t part of The Primacy. Sterling might have leanings in their direction, but Rhysa was fairly certain he wasn’t actually part of it. She had no clue about Camyrn or Armina.

Armina could potentially be a member. Sam at The Dancing Maid had shown active interest in helping someone who didn’t like non-humans. And Armina just happened to come by. If The Primacy were wide spread, it’s conceivable that Sam had spread the word of a potential recruit.

The door opened, and Rhysa immediately resumed her pretense of being Mieryth. Camyrn walked in, his movements barely controlled and frenetic. He wore a broad smile, and when he spoke, his voice held a tremor.

“There’s been a development, Tar. I have to go into the city for a couple of days.” He paced, trying to burn off some of his energy.

Taryn’s eyes flicked to Mieryth and a brief smile flitted across her face. “When do you leave, my love?”

Mieryth very nearly rolled her eyes. Taryn using “my love” was somewhat akin to a foul-mouthed parrot suddenly deciding to spout grand poetry. Camyrn, however, completely missed the shift. “I’m leaving in an hour or so. Is there anything you want from the city?”

Taryn gave Mieryth a considering look, but she shook her head. “Just come back quickly. I miss you when you’re gone.”

Camyrn bowed over her hand in his best Grand Manner. “And I shall be devastated to be parted from you, My Love. T’will but make me all the more eager to return.”

“Then hurry back.”

He embraced his wife and kissed her soundly. When he let go, Taryn was slightly breathless. He turned to leave, and when his back was to Taryn, he winked at Mieryth. Mieryth had been expecting something of the kind and did not react. Camyrn smirked at her lack of response, and he swept out of the room.

Mieryth was slightly startled at the speed of Camyrn’s arrival and departure. She exchanged a considering look with Taryn. “I wonder what that was about.”

Taryn shook her head. “I don’t know.” She glanced at Mieryth out of the side of her eyes. “As soon as he’s gone, you’re dismissed until supper.”

“Yes, m’Lady.” Mieryth wondered if Taryn saw the irony of holding Mieryth here, under guard, as it were, yet Camyrn would have at least two nights to find other willing bedmates. Probably not. She doesn’t even realize she’s given him a clearer field with the other servants by focusing on me. The sound of wheels rattling on cobblestones an hour-and-a-half later freed Mieryth.

A resounding thud vibrated its way through Rhysa’s channels. Apparently, Dyram wanted to talk. She “unlocked” one of the walls surrounding her room; to Sight it looked as though the color of one wall shifted from murky red to hazy blue. Dyram’s dead-white eyes were narrowed with thought as he stepped from the wall.

He paced along one wall, walking through the foot of Rhysa’s bed. Rhysa watched him calmly, slightly amused at his lack of regard for physical furnishings. “What is it, Dyram?”

The ghost stopped his pacing. “I never told you how I became a ghost.” He stopped and seemed to lose himself in memory.

Rhysa waited several minutes. “You died?” Rhysa hoped to goad him into continuing with the obvious.

“Yes, I died.” Dyram’s echoing voice was irritated. “More specifically, I was murdered. By my wife.” Rhysa waited for him to continue on his own. When he spoke again, his voice held a kind of regret. “To be fair, I probably pushed her to it. I cheated on her.” There was another long pause. “I wonder what happened to her?”

“Your wife?”

“No. The woman I cheated with. I know what happened to my wife.”

“What happened to you?”

“She caught me in the act, down here.”

“In the wine cellar.” Rhysa didn’t try to hide the disbelief in her voice.

Dyram laughed. “In my time, it was so much more than a wine cellar. It was the gateway to several chambers below the basement level. What you think of as the old wine cellar is actually only two-thirds the size of the original room. Whoever built this place originally seemed to have had a--hmmm--fascination for carnal pleasures. Many of the rooms below here were designed for some of the--less polite expressions of those pleasures.”

“And your wife caught you experimenting with your mistress.”

Dyram laughed. “No. The little nymph wasn’t yet ready to try anything along those lines.” There was more than a trace of fondness in his voice as he spoke of his mistress. “No. We were simply enjoying ourselves on some of the cushions.” His voice hardened. “She, my wife, caught us at it and slit my throat then and there. I don’t know what happened to Lenora. I hope she wasn’t too damaged by her lover’s throat being slit in flagandre delicto.”

Rhysa couldn’t suppress a shudder. “So your wife killed you and sealed you, and the various chambers, up. Why tell me this?”

“First: I want you to know. You kind of remind me of Lenora, my mistress. Second: The message that sent young Lord Bandar off in such haste bears the seal of the group my wife founded.”

The back of Rhysa’s neck began to prickle. “After all this time?”

Dyram nodded. “Apparently it’s grown far beyond what my wife had envisaged.”

“What is this group?”

“I don’t know what she eventually called it, but its purpose was to get rid of all non-humans.”

“That’s an odd goal.”

“Not really. The woman I cheated with was a nymph.”

Rhysa’s mind made the final connections. She used a trickle through her channels and drew a symbol in the air; it was an encircled person whose top half was female and bottom half was male. Dyram’s widened eyes were all the confirmation she needed. “It’s called The Primacy. It’s become a socio-political movement. They’re causing problems in Ellendahl. So, Camyrn is part of it.” Rhysa sat, head in hands, to think.

If Camyrn was part of it, what about the rest of the Bandars? What about their household? She’d already encountered active hostility towards non-humans from Sterling. Taryn obviously knew about it, but Rhysa still doubted she was actually part of it. If she could prove Sam or Armina were part of it, the other was almost certainly a member. Rhysa didn’t actually need a roster of membership, but she needed to know where the lines of influence lay.

“Dyram, can you do me a favor?”

“Possibly. What do you need?”

“I need to know everyone in this manor who either owns a seal with The Primacy emblem, or who receives messages with the emblem. Also, I want you to double-check the household for magic users. I know ghosts use Sight almost exclusively. Look for people with active or recently used channels. Also look for people who don’t even have clogged or inactive channels.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. How long will it take you?”

“A couple of days.”

“Good. You can check Camyrn when he gets back.” Rhysa stared at a wall and thought. How could she take advantage of this break without tipping her hand? She hoped she wouldn’t have to do anything drastic. “When you find someone with either active channels or no channels, let me know as soon as possible.”

“This whole thing about The Primacy is important to you, isn’t it?”

Dyram’s words hit her like a bucket of ice water. She’d said too much, asked for too much, revealed too much, and now she’d tipped her hand after all. “Yes.” Dyram simply nodded and walked through the wall he’d entered through.

The scream echoed in the small room and left Mieryth’s ears ringing. She’d been visiting Crysta’s room; Crysta had been commiserating about Taryn’s treatment of her personal maid when Dyram stepped through the wall. After a shocked silence, Crysta’s mouth had dropped open and emitted a high-pitched scream.

When Crysta paused for breath, Mieryth grabbed Crysta and pushed her towards the door. “I’ll take care of this. You get out of here.” Crysta needed no encouragement--she bolted for the door, and left it banging in her wake.

Rhysa dropped her Mieryth guise. “That was incredibly dumb, Dyram.” She couldn’t take the irritation from her voice.

The ghost looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotten used to just walking through walls to find you I didn’t notice you weren’t alone.”

Rhysa sighed. Crysta’s shrieks would bring a horde of people down here to investigate--as soon as they could figure out what she was screaming about. “Come on. Let’s go to my room. I don’t want to be here when they come charging in to gawp at a ghost.”

With the door to her room closed, Rhysa relaxed a bit. “So, what’s so important you risked exposure?”

“I discovered the missive that sent Camyrn out, yesterday. It was in code, so I couldn’t read its contents, but I looked at the delivery stamps. It came from Mestin Reach.”

Rhysa’s face drained. “Where is it?”

Before Dyram could answer, they heard the pounding feet of several people hurrying down the stairs. Rhysa tensed slightly. “Go. You can tell me later.” Dyram stepped through the back wall and disappeared. Rhysa took a deep breath and resumed being Mieryth just as someone pounded on her door.

She opened the door and saw Sterling with a raised fist. Behind him stood several other house staff, looking into Crysta’s room. She didn’t have time to see much more than that, though. As soon as the door was open, Sterling grabbed her shoulders.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, looking at her critically. “You’re pale. Crysta says the ghost came back, and that you were there, too.”

“I’m fine.” Mieryth put a slight quaver in her voice. “It was a little startling, but nothing to get riled up about.” She took a deep breath. “How’s Crysta?”

“Hysterical.” It came out in a snort. “How else?”

Mieryth was glad to see his humor returning. “I may be deaf in one ear for a while. Crysta may be small, but you couldn’t tell by the noise she made.”

Sterling nodded. “So there was a ghost.” There was a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Yes.”

“You saw it?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” He still sounded doubtful. “Crysta said you told her you would take care of it right before you pushed her towards the door. What did you do?”

“I asked him who he was.”

“Did he answer?”

Mieryth snorted. “No. He seemed disappointed I wasn’t going to run screaming. He just turned around and left again.” She let herself slump a little. “Would you mind leaving me for a bit? I want to lie down and rest.”

Sterling was instantly solicitous. “Of course. I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”

“No. Thank you.” She walked up to him and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be all right. I just need some rest.”

Sterling’s eyes widened; he seemed stunned into immovability. It took a small shove to get him moving again. He still looked a little glazed when she closed the door behind him.

As with the first time he’d appeared, Dyram kept himself nearly transparent so the stones looked as though they were a face. A brief glance satisfied him she was alone this time, and stepped all the way through the wall.

“So where is the message?”

“In Camyrn’s rooms. On the table next to his bed.”

“I don’t suppose you could bring it through walls?”

Dyram shook his head. “If I fully manifest, I could pick it up; but then I couldn’t go through walls. As soon as I de-manifested to pass through the wall, the message would fall to the ground.”

Rhysa sighed. “I’d really rather not use magic.”

“Speaking of which; I discovered Armina has no channels.”

Rhysa cursed. She liked Armina; but if Armina was a mage, she might have to be dealt with. “Anyone else?”

“Not that I’ve seen.” He paused as he appeared to consider something. “I think I may know a way. Remember the--pleasure--chambers I mentioned? I think there’s a passage directly from the Lord’s chambers to one of the rooms. You’d have to figure out a way through your wall, though.”

“That could be a problem. Where’s Armina?”

“I don’t know.”

“I may have to chance it. How thick is the wall?”

“Not terribly. Maybe nine inches?”

“That’s what you call ‘not thick’?” Rhysa shook her head. “It’ll take a significant amount of magic to create a door, especially if I wanted to keep it hidden. It would alert Armina.”

“Can you change your shape?”

“No.”

“What about just knocking a hole in the wall?”

Rhysa laughed. “If I do that, we’d have half the manor staff barging in here trying to figure out why the house is shaking.”

“No, we wouldn’t.” He grinned at Rhysa’s skeptical expression. “When my wife sealed off the pleasure chambers, she didn’t just build a wall. The difference in stonework would have been noticeable. She actually built the current room within the larger room. Your floor is higher than the floor on the other side of that wall. Same thing with the ceiling. There’s enough space between the confines of the old room, and the exterior of yours to cushion most of the vibration. Your room isn’t even part of the architectural supports.”

“Huh. She must really have wanted to keep people from finding the pleasure chambers.”

“If you can Mask the noise, you could open up your back wall without any danger of being discovered.”

“Unless someone comes in.”

“Could you Mask the ripples of an illusion?”

“Yes. What could be difficult is Masking the surge I’ll need to make me strong enough to break the wall.”

Rhysa paused. What if they were approaching this wrong? “Why do we need to hide opening up the wall? The only thing we need to hide is the passage from the pleasure chamber to the Lord’s chambers. Maybe I can convince Armina to open the wall herself.”

“Why would she want to? It’s not as if it’s obvious this room is contained within a larger room. I’ll say this for the person my wife hired: he did a good job. Without our inside knowledge, so to speak, this room could be the original design.” Dyram reflected for a moment before adding, “Too bad my wife had him killed as soon as he was done.”

Rhysa gave him a startled glance. “Nice woman.”

Dyram shrugged. “It happened over the course of years. She gradually went from sweet and loving to a human black-widow.”

“Your affair?”

“That could be the triggering event. But I doubt it was the sole reason. The overall change was too drastic.”

Rhysa forced herself to stop thinking about Dyram’s wife. Maybe if it sounded as if there were rats in the wall; or just on the other side of it. “Dyram. Could you try dragging a rock across the wall on the other side?”

Dyram disappeared through the wall, and a short time later Rhysa heard a faint scratching sound.

“That should work. We’ll have to do this right away. I want to look at that message before Camyrn comes back and gets rid of it.” She gave Dyram a direct look. “You’ll have to be very careful. If Armina is a mage, she could do some serious damage to you. It’s probably best if you’re not seen.”

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