The Jackal of Nar by John Marco

Author:John Marco [Marco, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-8041-5266-2
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

The House of Gayle stood on a green and rolling tor overgrown with weedy wildflowers and surrounded by a sluggish moat that reminded Biagio of the famous Gayle paranoia. It was an unremarkable place, neither large nor excessively appointed, and it bespoke solitude and a certain serious foreboding. At the bottom of the tor was a well-trampled parade ground, a huge expanse of grass where the horsemen of Talistan pranced and drilled, and near the back of the castle was a giant stable to accommodate the many beasts of the Gayle militia, a rambling structure of ramshackle wood that gave off an evil stink on hot summer days. The House of Gayle had a twenty-foot drawbridge spanning the moat and leading into a dusty courtyard. Inside the courtyard, servants and slaves attended to the castle’s needs, while on the many catwalks guardians in green and gold paced their watches and made the stout wood creak with their heavy boots. Even in the smallest hours of the night they could be heard, incessantly walking and waiting for an invasion that would probably never come.

Biagio liked the militant house. He had visited it many times over the years and always stayed in the same room, a chamber the king of Talistan had built just for imperial guests like him. When he had business in this part of the Empire, Biagio always looked to the Gayles for hospitality, and they always offered it graciously. Suspiciously, too, of course, but that was the nature of politics and Biagio never faulted them for it. The Gayles were loyal, mostly, and always spoke well of Naren ideals. Until very recently, they had been one of Arkus’ closest allies.

The Baron Blackwood Gayle leaned back theatrically in his chair so that its two front legs lifted off the marble floor. Pensively, he stared out the window. A shaft of sunlight struck his half-mask, making it glimmer. On the table was a decanter of wine and some food his slaves had hurriedly served up upon the count’s arrival. Biagio, surprisingly hungered by the morning’s events, sandwiched a piece of meat into a chunk of bread and ate silently as he regarded the baron. He had expected Gayle’s melodrama, and was waiting as patiently as he could for it to end. Behind him, his Shadow Angels stood silent, staring at Gayle through their own death masks.

“This is such a surprise,” said Blackwood Gayle. He feigned offense terribly, but Biagio let him continue. “My father and I had thought you’d forgotten about us, frankly. And now to hear you need us again, well …” Gayle sighed loudly. “What can I say?”

Biagio shrugged and poured himself a goblet of wine. He drained the glass slowly, making Gayle wait, then even more slowly poured himself some more. Despite the temperature outside, it was cold in the castle, and Biagio despised the cold. Gayle knew this and had deliberately opened the window so that a summer breeze blew in.

“You must know the emperor meant no offense, Baron,” said Biagio finally.

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