The Death Ray

3

"So that was the whole reason you were summoned to the palace?" Naull asked over the shiny silver teacup.

Regdar sighed, shrugged, and didn't bother to answer. Naull shook her head, then sipped her tea, and Regdar looked away.

Absently, Regdar's hands fiddled with the collapsing bow he'd purchased early that morning. It was expensive, but when he saw it he knew he needed to have it. How much easier would it be to carry a bow that folded into a slim leather satchel than the long composite bow that had gotten in his way so many times while slung over his shoulder and dragging on the ground?

They sat at a small table on the huge, high terrace of the Thrush and the Jay-the inn that the duke himself had recommended to them-sipping tea from wildly expensive silver cups and taking in the cool, sunset air. Regdar had never stayed in a place so opulent before. Almost everything about the inn made him feel silly, like a fish out of water.

Naull, who grew up in a lonely wizard's tower on the eastern frontier, was oddly at ease. The beauty and elegance of the inn seemed to transform her, bringing out a grace that Regdar had always sensed in her but hadn't often been able to see. She was a gifted spellcaster with a quick mind and an easy wit. Surrounded by silver, silk, and servants, she became a lady.

Naull set down her teacup and met Regdar's eyes. He smiled when he realized he'd been caught staring at her when he'd meant to look away.

"She must be very beautiful," Naull said, a smile curling her lips.

Regdar shrugged and this time did look away, out to the east where the pale orange glow of the sunset held the city in its gentle embrace. From where they sat, high atop the columned inn, the Duke's Quarter stretched out beneath them with the eastern portion of the Merchant's Quarter behind it and the bustling Trade Quarter beyond.

"More beautiful than a poor country wizard, anyway," Naull mused.

Regdar ignored the comment and lifted his teacup to his lips. His huge hand engulfed the delicate, silver vessel in a most uncouth fashion, but the fighter didn't care. He let his eyes wander the city, which was a great oval surrounded by mighty walls. Those walls were well maintained, even washed regularly on the duke's orders so that their polished, gray-white stone glowed in the warm light. The River Delnir cut through the heart of the city, flowing from the north on its way to the endless expanse of the Southern Sea some dozen miles away.

The Thrush and the Jay occupied a large and expensive tract of real estate right on the western strand and the terrace overlooked the fast-flowing river. Orange light glittered on the water where the inn's shadow didn't fall. Directly across was the Duke's Quarter, an island in the middle of the river. The duke's palace towered over them, stretching over the entire northern half of the island. Surrounded by brilliant white walls of its own, capped with a cluster of soaring towers, the palace was easily half a mile on a side.

A coach that appeared to be cut from solid gold, pulled by a team of white horses and flanked by a dozen of the duke's elite guard, rumbled over the bridge that linked the island with the Merchant Quarter. The coach and its outriders disappeared from sight below the rim of the terrace to pass along the south wall of the inn.

"She's smart, too, I suppose," Naull sighed.

Regdar, engrossed with the view of New Koratia, barely heard her. A flash of light caught his eye and he squinted at the Floating Crystal. The renowned college of wizards was an enormous, floating tower of glass. Though it was almost a mile away, it still appeared huge, hovering over the wizard's reserve on the eastern side of the river. Behind it, the labyrinthine streets of the Trade Quarter formed a backdrop of chaotic shapes. Beyond that he could see the twin towers of the east gate.

"She's had tutors," Naull continued, "to teach her everything, perhaps even to school her in the most exotic and secret lore of love and pleasure."

Regdar's attention returned to her abruptly, and her eyes flared.

"That caught your attention?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

He took a hasty sip of tea and flinched in surprise when he found his cup empty. He set the cup down on the lace tablecloth and shifted in his too-small, wrought iron chair.

"So you were introduced," Naull said. "Then what?"

"That was all," Regdar replied, studying his silver teacup.

"More tea?" Naull asked, reaching for the pot.

Regdar grabbed it before she could, though, and drew it toward him.

"I've got it," he said.

"Yes," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Regdar found himself asking, against his better judgment.

"Oh, you know what I mean," she replied, looking away and sighing.

"No," Regdar said, "I don't. You're angry with me because I accepted an invitation from the Duke of Koratia himself?"

She turned on him and Regdar almost flinched at the fire in her eyes. He had no doubts about Naull, but had to force himself to understand that she could be angry, even with him, and it was a sign of nothing but her humanity. Considering her recent past, all they'd both been through, Regdar doubted she'd be offended if he occasionally watched her just a little too closely.

Naull folded her arms across her chest and started tapping her foot.

"What have I done?" Regdar asked.

The fighter was suddenly aware of other eyes on him and he looked up. The waiter, a lanky weasel of a man wearing a floor-length tunic in the ubiquitous blue-gray of the Thrush and the Jay, was standing next to their table.

"My apologies for interrupting," the waiter said in an accent Regdar couldn't place. "Is the tea to your liking?"

Regdar looked down at the empty tea cup, realized he was still holding the pot in his hand, and said, "Fine, yes."

"My lady?" the waiter asked, bowing in Naull's direction.

"Lovely," the young woman said, plastering a smile on her face for the waiter's benefit.

The waiter bowed lower and turned on his heel, the clean white towel draped over his left forearm flapping lightly in his own breeze.

Before he could take a step away from them, Naull said, "No, wait."

Like a soldier snapping to attention before a general, the weasely man turned back to Naull and bowed again.

"Lady?" he asked.

"I have a question," Naull said, sitting up straight in her chair. The fine silk of her dress and the finer wool of the sweater that she wore over her shoulders against the cool evening air whispered on the wrought iron. "If someone were to introduce you to a young lady, and-oh, I'm sorry, are you married?"

The waiter went pale, swallowed once, and said, "Yes, my lady."

"Naull…" Regdar cautioned, setting the teapot down without pouring himself another cup.

The young mage paid him no mind, focussing instead on the waiter.

"If someone were to introduce you to a young lady," she continued, "having made some effort to exclude your wife from the meeting, then was careful to inform you that the young lady was in need of a husband and that you would be someone she'd be seeing more of…what would you think?"

The waiter swallowed again and looked around, as if expecting a hoard of demons to appear from the thin air and rip him to pieces.

You should be so lucky, Regdar thought. Both of us should be.

The waiter cleared his throat and said, "A scone, perhaps?"

"No," Naull said, "thank you. What would you think?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what-" the waiter began.

"Of course you do," Naull interrupted. "You would think that, regardless of your wife, dutifully waiting at home for you, washing your blue-gray tunics, feeding your children, serving you in bed like a-"

"Naull!" Regdar blurted.

"Ma'am!" the waiter squealed at the same time.

Naull ignored them both and continued, "You'd think he was trying to arrange a marriage, wouldn't you? Do you love your wife?"

The waiter took a step backward as if slapped by the questions. Regdar sucked in a breath, looked around, and saw a good dozen sets of eyes directed at their table, at the little parlor drama Naull insisted on playing out. The other diners were the finest people of New Koratia, and Regdar doubted they'd ever seen anything like the shameful display.

"Do you?" Naull pressed.

"Naull," Regdar stage-whispered, "for Pelor's sake."

She held up a hand to silence him and lifted an eyebrow at the waiter.

"I…I do," the poor man said, swallowing again.

"And you would tell this match-maker, however well meaning," Naull went on, "that you love your wife, you honor your vows, and have no interest in marrying this home-wrecking little trollop of his."

The waiter blushed and said, "Yes?"

And that was when Regdar said exactly the wrong thing: "But, we're not married."