Farv stood rigid beside a long, narrow table, at one end of which sat Rahavi, relaxing with a glass of wine and a strand of grapes; at the other end sat the Dark Duke, his eyes fiery, but his person still calm and poised. He rubbed his chin in thought, looked over at the stolid Farv, then looked back and away again.
“So,” he said, “what exactly is it that you are saying?”
“I’m afraid, Your Highness,” said the soldier with a sigh, “that – regretfully – it seems that Taylor James is nowhere to be found.”
“No,” the Dark Duke corrected, “what you mean, is that you cannot find him.”
Farv lowered his head.
“Yes, Sire.”
“And I suppose that that means that he’ll continue to cost me money, continue to kill my men and destroy my plans.”
“We will find him, Sire.”
“Well, you better!” cried the Dark Duke, slamming his hand hard upon the table. He leaned closer, pointing his finger as if it were a sword. “Let me tell you something,” he said. “I am planning the greatest conquest in all of history. Very soon, our troops will be advancing into that despicable, but considerably large country of Dermer. I expect you to help lead that invasion. But right now you seem hardly competent enough to eliminate a small band of rogues led by one man!” – his finger jutted to the ceiling – “One man deters us, one man makes a fool of me, and all you can say is ‘We will find him’?” – his hands crashed to the table – “Find him! Understand?”
Farv bowed.
“Yes, Sire.”
The Dark Duke put his elbows on the table and began rubbing his hands as if molding clay between them. He recovered his calm, though his eyes seemed lost in fury.
“Find him,” he said. “Find him now.”
“I will, Your Highness.”
“Good,” said the Dark Duke, leaning back in his chair. “You are dismissed.”
Again Farv bowed. He turned himself astutely around, folded his hands behind his back, and made his exit, shutting the doors closed behind him.
The Dark Duke addressed Rahavi:
“I don’t want to keep stalling,” he said. “I intend to announce my choice of marriage officially on the Day of Pig, the same day that I will announce my intent to form an ever-lasting peace with Dermer. Three days later, we will attack. Hopefully, by that time, Farv will have caught this fugitive rascal and we will have hanged him and his band of rogues with him. If not, though, we will continue as planned.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I agree wholeheartedly.”
For a moment there was silence as both men drank from their respective glasses. Then Rahavi spoke: “Are you truly intending, Sire, to make this woman, this commoner, your wife?”
“She is very beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Certainly, Your Highness. It is just that I never considered you the marrying type, is all.”
“True,” said the Dark Duke. “Indeed I am not. But, after all, I only intend to stay married long enough to have her bear me a son. After which, I’m afraid, the Queen Rosemarie will have a most unfortunate, fatal accident.”
“Ah,” said Rahavi, sipping himself some more wine, “now I see.”
“Shame on you, Rahavi,” laughed the Dark Duke. “You should know me better by now. I could never be content with just one woman.”
“You are right. I will not make the same mistake again, Your Highness.”
“Good,” said the Dark Duke. “In which case, I propose a toast…”
The two men lifted their glasses.
“To the death of Taylor James,” he said, “and to the vanquishing of Dermer. May both events occur expediently.”
“Aye!” said Rahavi.
Both gulped greedily.
“And,” added the Dark Duke, lifting his glass once again, “to world conquest.”
Rahavi nodded, and again they drank.
“Do you really think he might come for her?” Rahavi asked when they were finished. “Would he attempt such a thing?”
“It’s possible,” said the Dark Duke. “But let him. It would be utter suicide for him to attack this place with his worthless band of rogues. In which case, I would have both my marriage and his death to celebrate.”
“And the death of Dermer!” Rahavi cried.
“To the death!” cried the Dark Duke, raising his glass once again.
“The death!”
And down the hatch it went.
Chapter 36
The Departure