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Chapter 16

With sleep came the morning. Or in Gwen’s case, the late morning. After the events of the previous evening, she had slept in far more than she would have imagined, and was only making it down to lunch then.

She yawned, and looked around. Drake, Indearie and Rosamund were all there, tended by the staff.

Gwen concentrated, and tried to think it through. Millie was there, and the other woman’s name was…Obdura? Olivette? She’d ask. That was the question of the day. She settled down, took out a book, and started reading.

Indearie looked around, nervous.

“Do you think he’s going to come?”

“Baron Maladie assured us that he would arrive this afternoon,” Rosamund said. “And I don’t think he’s going to be that late.”

Drake looked up from his sandwich. “Why, because he missesyou, princess?”

Rosamund snapped her fingers. Drake shot up into the air, clutching at his smoking behind.

“Because he wants to find a way to end Deveren as much as we do. Everwynn goes down, Maladie is in-between the both of us. Only a matter of time before the count starts thinking about making one big estate.”

“So he helps himself by helping us,” Indearie said. “Brilliant!”

Rosamund blushed, and dug into a salad. “Just standard politicking,” Rosamund said. “Happens all the time.”

Doramont wandered in, scratching his neck. “Morning, all,” he said. He waved his hand, signaling Millie to bring over his plate of meat and potatoes.

The gardner dug in, and grunted. “Have we managed to come up with a semblance of a plan?”

Drake finally managed to pat down the rest of the flames. “Yeah. Don’t die.”

“As wonderfully intricate and detailed as your own mind.”

Drake nodded. “Thanks, sap sucker.”

Doramont ignored it, and kept on eating.

“Why does Gwen suddenly get the biggest piece of bacon?”

Gwen looked down. Sure enough, there was a curled piece of bacon, the size of Rosamund’s melon slice.

She looked up. “Olivette?” she hazarded.

The woman beamed. “Just making sure you have a wonderful start to your day, miss Gwen.”

“Hey, can I have a…” Drake trailed off as Olivette walked away with a huff.

“Dames.”

The girls looked at him. “What?”

“What can we expect from Maladie?” Indearie asked, pointedly ignoring Drake.

“Not too much,” Rosamund admitted. “From what Felton and the duke have said, and court gossip, they clearly didn’t think too much of him. The baron wants to be bigger, but doesn’t exactly know how.”

“He’s a small big man,” Drake said. “You’ve seen a thousand guys like him. Bluster and bluff, that’s all the guy’s got.”

“He’s here.”

“Seriously, I know we’re desperate, but are we that desperate?”

Doramont stood up. “Shut up, you imbecile. He’s coming up the main walk now.”

He walked out of the room. A few moments later, the statement dawned on the rest of the students.

“Did he just say now?” Gwen asked.

“Yes he did!”

Rosamund ran after him, alarmed. “He said afternoon. Afternoon.”

“It’s going to be ok.”

“No, it’s not,” Rosamund said. “There is a certain protocol to be followed. Nobles expect it. We’re asking him for help, and we are…”

“Late.”

The three skidded to a stop just out the door. Standing on the main walk was a small man. Stringed hair stretched past his doughy face, unsuccessfully coiled in a fashionable manner. He wore a yellow suit jacket that only made his complexion worse.

Gwen let out a low whistle. This? This was supposed to be the salvation of the Everwynn estate? Not exactly what she thought it would be like.

Rosamund bowed low. “Baron Maladie. Please forgive my rudeness. We were not expecting your arrival until this afternoon.”

Maladie sniffed, and raised a gloved hand to his nose. “Did you think it a truly long journey from one of my lands to yours?”

“We just didn’t think…”

“No,” Maladie said. He looked on Rosamund with disdain. “I did not expect you to think.”

Rosamund reddened.

Maladie turned to the rest of the group. He sneered.

“Children. Felons. Where is Duke Everwynn? Where is his butler. I was summoned to aid the estates, and I expect to have a chance to speak to…adults.”

“I was hoping to see an actual noble,” Gwen thought. “Guess we’re both out of luck.”

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“Did I say that out loud?” Gwen asked.

“Yes,” Indearie muttered.

“But she’s not exactly wrong,” Drake said.

Maladie bristled. He tried to raise himself up to his full height. When that only raised him to Gwen’s shoulder, it seemed to make him turn a shade of purple.

The children watched him struggle to find the right words to fully express his rage and resentment. Filled with vitriol and poise, a loquacious expanse of his vocabulary.

But failing that, he simply turned, and walked towards the door. “I was under the impression that I was called upon by a respectable Lord,” he muttered. “I shall take my leave.”

“Baron!” Rosamund called out. She shot an angry look at the other students, running after him.

“Baron Maladie, please don’t leave,” she pleaded. “We need your help.”

“Never been so insulted in my life,” Maladie said. “And to have to take this from children…”

“Yes!” Rosamund said. “We’re children. We are stupid, and crude, and we cannot make any sort of sense. But we need your help.”

“And why,” Maladie said. He turned on Rosamund eyes narrowed. “Would I do anything to help you?”

Gwen’s ears perked up. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to help. He didn’t want to help Rosamund. And she could see the look in his eyes. Betrayal, and suspicion. Rosamund was the most hated person in the room, not Gwen.

Rosamund reddened, and shrank away. She didn’t have the right answer anymore.

Maladie sniffed again. “I know what is coming. Young Deveren will soon be here with the full weight of the Council pressing upon your necks. Ready to take a young murderer, and dispense with the judicial formalities.”

He sneered at Gwen. “Do you prefer the rope, or the fire?”

Gwen sat down, clenching her fists. Don’t say anything. Do not respond. Maladie was looking for just one more reason to hate her, and she wasn’t going to give it to him.

“Well,” Maladie said. “Maybe the mongrel dog can be tamed.”

He nodded to the boys. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Give my respects to your master. However, it seems that I cannot lend my aid.”

“Please no!”

Indearie hugged Maladie. “Please, you have to help! Please!”

“Get off…” The baron trailed off, looking down her dress.

Indearie tightened around him. “Everwynn needs all the help he can get. And he’s trying and we’re trying and it’s just not enough!”

She looked down to him, giving her best soulful look. Maladie didn’t notice. “Could you help us? Please? We’d be ever so grateful.”

Gwen retched as silently as she could. She turned, and saw the looks of sympathy from Drake and Doramont. Rosamund, on the other hand, looked on in awe.

“Are, are those…” Maladie gulped, and finally looked up. “Will you be here with us, miss?”

“Indearie,” she said. She smiled, bright and cheerful. “I’m one of Everwynn’s students.”

“Aha.” Maladie turned away, considering. The wheels spun in his brain, as his libido and lethargy battled for dominance.

Indearie released him, but kept a hand on his shoulder. She looked at him, intent. As he turned towards her, she smiled, and squeezed his arm.

“All right, all right, all right.” Maladie gave a smile back that made Gwen’s skin crawl. “How could I possibly refuse such a lovely girl?”

Indearie squealed, and clapped her hands together. “This is going to be so much fun!” she danced away. “I’m going to go tell everybody!”

“No! Wait!” Maladie threw his hand out, but it was too late. Indearie’s laughter trailed throughout the hall. He sighed, and straightened his waistcoat, looking at the rest of the students.

“I will be recompensed for this,” He snarled.

“Help us, and I promise that Deveren will never bother you again,” Rosamund promised.

He leered. “You are going to do much more than that for me. I expect a meeting…”

Rosamund clamped a hand over his mouth. Maladie’s eyes flared, and he started to struggle. In an instant Rosamund was off, her hands pressed together.

“I promise. That is going to happen, and soon. But we need to…discuss that further. Alone.”

Maladie’s eyes flicked over to Gwen and the boys. He grunted. “Very well.”

He strode towards the kitchens. “I am famished. Have the servants whip up a feast that befits my stature.”

“Absolutely, your lordship,” Rosamund said. “We can go over the plans for the defense of the manse.”

Maladie rolled his eyes. “My soldiers will see to that.”

“Soldiers?” Gwen started. “What soldiers?”

“Of course there’s going to be soldiers,” Rosamund said. “And we are more than willing to house them while we determine the most effective…”

Maladie snapped his fingers. The air rippled, and split open. Armed guards appeared in the front hall. Heavily armed, dressed in chain mail that had been stained the same awful yellow,

“I will determine what is most effective with my soldiers,” Maladie muttered. “You’d do well to remember that.”

He turned, and walked towards the kitchens. “Now, where can a man get a decent drink?”

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Dead by the Book

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I didn't ask for a destiny.

Especially one that says that I'm supposed to destroy every god in existence.

It made the name William Creed a curse. Made me turn tail and run from the only home I knew. Left my friend, my favorite ghost, and hoped that the gods would just forget about me.

But now I'm back. Chasing the one good paycheck I've seen in years. Chasing some kid who's in way over his head, searching for a book that could break reality.

I'll have to take on dragons, the undead, a whole cosmos of deities, and my own mother.

Welcome to God Street. Where miracles become realities.

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