Dreadful (eBook)
352 Seiten
TITAN BOOKS (Verlag)
978-1-80336-548-0 (ISBN)
Caitlin Rozakis's work has appeared in Cast of Wonders, Daily Science Fiction, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Weirdbook, Allegory, Liquid Imagination, Bards & Sages, Every Day Fiction, the anthologies Substitution Cipher, Clockwork Chaos, and Baker Street Irregulars II. She was nominated for a 2014 Pushcart Prize and won the 2018 LUMINA Speculative Fiction Contest. She is based in New Jersey, USA and DREADFUL is her first novel.
2
Now that he suspected what to look for, the mirror’s purpose felt more obvious. Of course he’d want to block anyone from looking in. He threw the cloth back with some reluctance and took a deep breath. The words tickled the back of his teeth. When he tried to think about them, they skittered away. He closed his eyes, forced himself to relax, and let them flow out.
Lightning chased across the mirror for a moment before it settled to a dim glow. Now what? Zarconar apparently outranked him. The other wizard would make him wait, he realized. How petty. Effective, though.
He couldn’t go do something else. Or maybe he should. Hoping he could get settled in time, he grabbed a sheaf of papers and dragged the chair across the floor. It shrieked horrifyingly as the heavy wood skidded across the stone. He hoped he hadn’t left scratches, but he couldn’t check now. He threw himself into the chair, studiously casual. One leg over the armrest? He tried it. No, too casual. He straightened up just enough to look dignified. Preoccupied, not bored. The words on the paper swam before his eyes. He tried to focus, failed. Instead, he just flipped idly through the papers, over and over again.
The mirror flashed. He tried not to jump. Instead, he made sure to finish pretending to read the sentence, and then set the paper down very deliberately, a small and pleasant smile on his lips.
Zarconar’s skin smoldered, a red so dark it was almost black. Not the color of darker skin, like (it came to him on one of those useless flashes he was quickly becoming accustomed to) was common among the southern traders. Actual red and black, as if he’d mixed dried blood with a touch of ink and painted it on. Or maybe he’d spelled it to that color. It looked like nothing human. A stiffened collar of black velvet rose from his shoulders to above his ears, framing his gleaming bald head. The cloak clasped with a small skull, seemingly human but smaller than a baby’s. Fetus? Monkey? Shrunken? Disgusting, whatever the origin.
The whole effect was ridiculous.
But Zarconar’s eyes burned with a menace that killed the laughter in Gav’s throat.
“You have the princess?” Zarconar’s voice rumbled deep from his chest. Gav felt a burst of envy. His own tenor could never convey that level of malevolence.
Gav swallowed, his mouth gone suddenly dry. “I do.”
“Good.” The other wizard’s eyes narrowed. “Any resistance?”
“The… the king is attempting a ransom,” Gav offered after a pause. He had no idea what the other wizard expected, and the small frightened mammal part of his brain was insisting that he meet those expectations. Right now. He didn’t know what Zarconar would do if he didn’t. He didn’t want to find out.
That seemed to amuse the other wizard. One lip curled up in a smile. “Anything appealing?”
“A small fortune? No land, though.” He forced a smile of his own. “A little insulting, really. You’d think he barely cared for the girl.”
Zarconar’s laughter boomed. It didn’t make Gav feel particularly reassured. “Feeling bold today, are you?”
Gav could feel the blood rush out of his face, leaving him dizzy. Zarconar could tell something was wrong. How should he behave? Obsequious? Terrified? No, he’d made his choice and had to bluff it out.
“I did my part.”
The gleaming eyes narrowed. “The first part, at least. Now we must wait for Valevna and Xaxus to complete theirs.”
Without any other ideas, Gav nodded.
Another smile played around Zarconar’s lips. It promised things, things Gav did not want to see delivered. “For the moment, you need merely hold her. And not get any foolish ideas. You can do that much, can’t you, Gavrax?”
“No foolish ideas,” Gav repeated faintly.
“Excellent,” said Zarconar. “We’ll speak again in three days.”
Gav nodded, still dizzy.
The mirror winked out.
He collapsed back into the chair. Then he sat bolt upright again, speaking the words that would close his side of the connection. He pulled the cloth back over.
Then he collapsed back into the chair again.
So the plan in question hadn’t started with him. Not good. No, it was being masterminded by a man with ensorcelled skin who should have been ridiculous but instead turned his bowels to water. Even now, his insides were spasming, demanding that he find himself a privy and soon. Worse and worse. And there were at least two more parties involved, probably also Dark Wizards, going by those ridiculous names. They couldn’t be named normal things, like Bo or Trevan. They had to have named themselves that. He wondered what monstrosity Zarconar slept in at night. Probably a bed carved to look like a dragon’s mouth. Or maybe on the backs of a dozen weeping virgins.
What was he going to do? Any thoughts of releasing Princess Eliasha fled out the window. Definitely not an option. He felt bad; he didn’t actually wish harm on the girl, but a quick consideration revealed he was not going to risk Zarconar’s wrath for some stranger, no matter how pretty. He’d have to do more research, he realized. This was just the first part of Zarconar’s plan, and he could not afford to disappoint him in parts two through whatever. What he was not going to do was admit to Zarconar that he couldn’t remember the rest. Zarconar seemed like the type who only valued people as long as they remained useful. The last thing Gav wanted was to become a liability. Liabilities got eliminated.
And Gav very much wanted to survive.
* * *
He’d been relieved to discover that he did, in fact, have a dining room. Well, more like a Great Hall that wasn’t quite all the way Great. A long table, at least. It could have held ten, maybe twelve people. Not exactly a full court. The banners hanging from the rafters looked less like trophies captured from his enemies than not-particularly-well-stitched banners of suspiciously similar ages. It had all been rather dusty until he’d summoned a goblin to clean. She’d done a surprisingly good job in a short amount of time, at least.
He drummed his fingers, and then made himself stop. He glanced at Grrribeetle, who he’d stationed near the sideboard in what he had to admit to himself was a pathetic grasp at familiarity. Dark Wizards did not worry if they were about to be stood up. If they were impatient, everyone scrambled to appease them. No one was on fire, therefore he must not be impatient.
Where was she?
When she appeared at the doorway, he nearly knocked over his chair. Grrribeetle grabbed it before it could hit the floor, replacing it silently. He’d have said something, but his words had deserted him.
He’d feared Siraco’s dress would be red and plunging. Instead, the princess floated in a blue cloud. The bottom could have been disintegrating and he would never have noticed. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the graceful scoop of the neckline, hinting without revealing, and the gold belt that hugged the gentle flare of her hip. The gold collar went well (the ring slightly less so), almost as if it had been intended to match the belt. Siraco had surprisingly good taste, it seemed. Her hair hung in a simple braid over her shoulder, echoing the fall of the ends of the belt. The dress could hardly have been in style—who knew how long it had lain in storage—but it suited her ethereal beauty perfectly.
He forced himself to take a breath.
She held her head up proudly, once again meeting his eyes. One of the goblin guards accompanying her gave her a little nudge in the small of her back, fortunately with the empty hand instead of the one holding the halberd. She took an unwilling step forward.
He came back to his senses and forced himself to keep a measured pace as he walked the length of the not-actually-that-long hall. Did he know any courtly graces at all? He didn’t really think so. Should he offer his arm? He had enough time to imagine her looking at it with disdain before he reached her side. He opted to pull back her chair instead.
“Do sit,” he said, trying for a gently mocking tone. She would never accept sincerity, and he didn’t want to order.
She sat stiffly, her gaze roaming the room. He saw her lip curl slightly as she glanced at the banners, and tried to hide his own wince. He tried not to take it personally. A keep this size could hardly impress a princess. She’d probably had dancing lessons in a room larger than this.
“Not a suitable setting,” he said, trying to cover his wounded pride with snideness, “but we are not often graced with visitors of your loveliness.”
She was too ladylike to sniff, but he suspected she wanted to. Why had he said that? It was true, of course, but he’d said it in the nastiest way possible, reflexively. Was that how he always treated pretty girls? He wondered which had come first, the conviction that women would treat him with disdain or his apparent determination to treat them like they would before they could get that far.
He made his way to the head of the table opposite her, trying to feign a nonchalance he did not feel. A goblin poked its head in and he gave it a wave. The wave came out much better this time. He had practiced.
More goblins trooped in, silver dishes clutched in claws that looked quite a bit cleaner than he’d seen in the kitchens. Their sackcloth clothes looked several shades lighter in color and appeared, at closer inspection, to still be damp. Several of them had added some kind of decorative tartan sash, some of them matching, which started him down a mental trail about goblin clan...
| Erscheint lt. Verlag | 28.5.2024 |
|---|---|
| Verlagsort | London |
| Sprache | englisch |
| Themenwelt | Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy |
| Schlagworte | An Orc on the Wild Side • A Practical Guide to Conquering the World • A Witch’s Guide to Fake-Dating a Demon • A Wizards Guid to Defensive Baking • Carry On • Christopher Moore • Dealing with Dragons • Expecting Someone Taller • funny fantasy books • G. A. Aiken • good omens • How to Rule and Empire and Get Away With It • humorous fantasy • Kill the Farm Boy • K. J. Parker • Klune • legends and lattes • Lords and ladies • low stakes fantasy • Paladin’s Grace • Paladin’s Hope • Paladins Strength • patricia wrede • Rainbow Rowell • Sarah Hawley • Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City • The Blacksmith Queen • The House in the the Cerulean Sea • the princess bride • The Saint of Steel • The Wizards Guid to Defensive Baking • T. J • T. Kingisher • Tom Holt • travis baldree • under the whispering door • Ursula Vernon • William Goldman • Wyrd Sisters |
| ISBN-10 | 1-80336-548-X / 180336548X |
| ISBN-13 | 978-1-80336-548-0 / 9781803365480 |
| Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
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