An
Error In Judgment
The next several days passed rather quickly for me. I remained in
Father's keep, spending much of my time working on several additional
portraits of Blethius. They were no easier than the first had been, a
fact I continued to find vexing. After a time, I drew a Trump of Derrick
as well, in part because I suspected he would be turning up again, but in
part to reassure myself that my overall skills had not atrophied. His
Trump, at least, came easily to me. I also made several additional
attempts to contact Sarah during this time, but all of them went
unanswered.
On the morning of my fifth day at the keep, I received a Trump
call...not from Sarah, as I had hoped, but rather from Momus. I had not
heard from him in nearly a week, since we had returned from our first
visit to the keep, so naturally I was rather curious as to why he would
choose to Trump me now...and where he had gotten a Trump of me, for that
matter. Not wanting to let him know that I was staying at the keep, I
teleported to Skeltland and entered my quarters before I allowed the call
to go through.
Momus came into focus looking rather harried, and he wasted no time on
pleasantries. "Melanie, I have a favor to ask of you. Something has come
up."
I gave him an inquiring look. "Indeed? What would that be?"
"Oh, Lord Shaenan, for whatever reason, is apparently thinking of
deposing Stead," he responded in a rather casual tone, as if he were
merely discussing the weather instead of the Emperor moving against his
own nephew.
"And why would he want to do that?" I asked, feeling no small amount
of curiosity.
"I have no idea."
Somehow I doubted that. Perhaps he was feeling constrained by the
nature of our conversation. Trump can have ears, after all, although I
could detect no one listening at the moment. "Would you like to come
through?" I offered
"That's all right, I'm not concerned with anyone overhearing this
one."
"All right." Which meant that what he was discussing was either
public knowledge, or he had a reasonably powerful Trump artist checking
the link. Given the nature of our conversation, I doubted it was the
former. Still, if he was not concerned with eavesdropping, then I wanted
more information. I was not foolish enough to believe that Shaenan would
move against Stead without some sort of reason.
Obviously Momus realized this, for he went on, almost dismissively,
"Oh, Stead's been making a few changes, and I guess the Emperor feels
that's a bit too ambitious."
And what were those changes, I wondered? And were they connected to
the painting of Theocritus that Momus had presented to Stead? Even if I
was correct in my suppositions about the nature of that painting, it was
too soon for Theocritus to be making any sort of move. Surely he would
lay low for a time, to get a feel for the situation in the Courts, and in
his House. I frowned slightly. "And so he means to...?"
"Eliminate the Duke."
I was shocked. "He is going to eliminate his own nephew?"
Momus nodded. "All I really wanted to know is if I could...borrow
Werewindle."
I paused, my mind still reeling from the implications of his previous
statement. "That is a favor," I finally allowed.
"Yes. I can assure you it will be returned, and that no one will know
that it's been involved."
Assuming he was not caught in...whatever it was he was going to do. I
decided not to ask just what that might be. It was safer not to know
exactly what he would be using it for...in case he wound up on the losing
side. "You realize I will, of course, expect a...certain favor in
return."
"Well, you know my favors are always at your disposal...Melanie."
Was it my imagination, or was he insinuating a different type of favor
than what I had been referring to? Surely not. "It is not necessarily
your favor I will be needing," I pointed out.
"The Duke's?"
"Perhaps."
"The Duke, I'm certain, will be amenable to anyone who helps preserve
his life," Momus allowed.
Naturally. The question was, was the promise of that favor sufficient
for me to risk involvement in this mess? If Shaenan was, indeed, moving
against Stead, any support of Stead could easily be viewed as treasonous.
In theory, I should be relatively safe, since it was not generally known
that I possessed Werewindle, so even if it was identified in whatever
Momus was planning, it would be difficult to trace back to me. Still, the
venture was not without some risk to me. If Momus were caught and probed,
he could reveal my involvement in the matter, however slight. And, there
was the chance that the sword could be lost, and if it fell into Shaenan's
hands, I could hardly ask to reclaim it. Still, the potential benefits to
me if Stead, or rather, Theocritus, survived were hard to ignore. I
desperately wanted to learn Theocritus' secrets regarding Trump, and if I
helped preserve his life... I hesitated, torn between my desire for power
and my fear of working against the Emperor. I recalled all too well what
had happened the last time I had earned an Emperor's wrath. It has cost
me much. But, in the end, power won out over caution. I nodded my
agreement and unbuckled Werewindle, handing it to Momus carefully. He
accepted it with a grave nod, and the contact ended, leaving me alone with
my thoughts, nervous butterflies in my stomach. Now, all I could do, was
wait.
I waited a day, as it turned out, before I heard from Momus again. I
had remained in Skeltland in hopes of hearing more about the fate of
Stead, but there had been no news at all on the matter. Then a servant
informed me that Lord Momus was there to see me, and I had him shown into
my sitting room, checking again to make sure that all of my wards were in
place...especially the wards against eavesdropping. Whatever news he had
for me, it would not be anything I wanted overheard.
Momus entered the room carrying Werewindle and a rather large package.
I raised an eyebrow upon seeing the latter, and inwardly my heart sank.
"It did not go so well?" I observed.
"Oh, well, it did and it didn't." Momus sighed. "Theocritus decided
to cut his losses."
I hid my irritation. "Really? That is going to make it difficult to
get anything from him."
Momus indicated Werewindle. "This worked marvelously well. Do you
know a woman by the name of Meredith?"
Meredith. The name sounded familiar. "I think I remember seeing her
vaguely once at the Tir. A redhead?"
"Nearly hobbled her with it," Momus said smugly.
"Really?" I checked to make sure there was no blood on the sword,
while doing my best to conceal the anger that boiled up within me. Idiot!
It was one thing for him to have used the sword against Shaenan's men,
but an Amberite? And then to maim her and leave her alive? What was he
thinking? Nothing was more dangerous than an immortal with a grudge. It
was not a possibility I had even considered might happen. After all, why
would an Amberite involve herself in what amounted to Chaos politics?
Upon examining the blade, I was relieved to find that Momus had
cleaned it quite well...even polished it. At least there would be no
tracing of the blade via that means. I tried to restore a measure of calm
to my features, and was relieved that there was only a trace of irritation
in my voice as I asked, "Do you think she recognized it?"
Momus emitted a small laugh. "From behind? I don't think so."
"Good." If she had, it would have been risky for me to continue
wearing the sword, despite the protections it gave me.
Momus set the wrapped painting down at this point. I did not need to
ask who was depicted on it. "Now we will have to find another place for
it," I noted.
"What about Nessarose?"
My eyes widened a bit at the sheer idiocy of that idea. "I do not
know if I want to bring that kind of grief down on my own house."
As a matter of fact, I was quite certain that I did not, based on the
results I had seen in Jesby.
Momus sighed. "It only becomes a problem when people start
talking."
"It becomes a problem when people notice that the person is acting
strangely. It did not seem to take that long at all in your house, did
it?" Theocritus obviously had no concept of subtlety, or patience, for
that matter.
"He's not very good at it, but he's learned his lessons, I suspect, by
now."
"Perhaps." I did not bother to keep my disbelief from my voice. "I
am not sure I want to experiment on my house next."
"That is true, but he did seem to do well with the father, why not the
daughter?"
I sighed, concluding that Momus' criteria for doing well were far less
stringent than mine. "There must be somebody else. Someone less
noticeable." Someone less important to Chanicut.
Momus kind of looked at me then, and smiled. "What about the girl?"
he asked.
It took me a moment to think of who he was referring to, as I had not
known that he was aware of her existence. "Lenore?"
"Yes."
I had to laugh at that. "How perfect." Indeed, it was not a bad
choice. By placing Theocritus in an infant, we could avoid the problem of
him giving himself away by acting in a manner that was unlike his host
body. Not to mention that it would force him to lie low for a while.
Still, I was not eager to perform such a transfer right away. Given
Lenore's age, it would be years before she was old enough for me to learn
anything from Theocritus, not to mention that he might be somewhat cranky
to find himself reborn in the body of an infant girl. And there was no
reason to rush. For the time being, I offered to store the painting at
Father's keep, until the uproar over Theocritus' reappearance died down.
Perhaps by the time that happened, we might have discovered other, more
suitable, candidates.
Momus agreed with my assessment and quickly departed, perhaps sensing
the irritation I still felt toward him...and towards myself. Giving
Werewindle to Momus had been a serious error in judgment on my part, done
because I feared that Theocritus might die, and with him the knowledge I
was so desperate to claim. But in my eagerness to gain that knowledge, I
had forgotten Father's most important rule: Power avails you nothing if
you are dead. It was a rule that he himself had forgotten, to his peril.
I could only hope that I fared better in this case.
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Fazzari.
Last modified on March 17, 2000 by Kris Fazzari.