Grand Game 248: The Raging Bull (Patreon)

The legion commander was a tall man with graying hair and a stern demeanor. He took one look at the token before bowing respectfully and motioning me to follow him into the palace.

The commander refused to answer any of my questions, though, and after leading me into an empty anteroom, he spat out a terse set of instructions. “Stay here, and whatever you do, don’t leave.” His piece said, the soldier spun about and hurried away.

Turning around, I saw him disappearing through the door. “Wait!” I called, but it was too late; the commander was gone. “Damn,” I muttered.

Left to my own devices, I studied the chamber. As to be expected, it was richly furnished with expensive-looking paintings, burnished statues, and hanging tapestries inset in the room’s many alcoves. There was, however, nowhere to sit.

I eyed the two doors leading away from the room but, after only a brief hesitation, decided against chasing after the commander or exploring farther into the building. Sighing, I schooled myself to patience. More waiting, I groused.

Minutes passed.

Then the minutes turned into hours, and still, I was left staring at the vacant room.

Resisting the temptation to sit on the marble floor—that would not do; this was a Power I was visiting, not some two-bit player—I began pacing.

My entire plan hinged on Tartar. If I could only speak to the Dark Power, I was sure I could sway him to my thinking, but what if the self-proclaimed god-emperor refused to grant me an audience? That I had not considered. I had been certain the envoy’s token would suffice to earn me an audience. Now, I was not so sure.

Noon came and went, and still, no one turned up, neither to take me to the Power nor to kick me out.

Though the temptation to leave was strong, I did not budge from the room. Was the legion commander playing a cruel joke on me? Was this pointless waiting some sort of test? Or had my request to see Tartar gotten lost somewhere?

I didn’t know, but I wasn’t leaving until I saw the Power.

The hours ticked by, and night fell. Frustrated, short-tempered, and tired, I kept pacing. It was the only thing keeping sleep at bay. Had the time come to find someone and ask them just what the hell was going on? I wondered.

Maybe it has, I decided reluctantly. How much longer can I—

A voice echoed through the room. “You are persistent.”

I spun about to my right. The voice had emerged from one of the alcoves along the west wall, but the nook in question was empty. My eyes had passed over it enough times during my endless wait to be sure of that fact. Not even a tapestry adorned its inside.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

A towering figure strode out of the alcove, seeming to materialize from thin air. Where had he come from?

The speaker dwarfed me many times over. Nothing about him bespoke subtly, and it defied belief that he’d been hiding in the alcove all along. With each stamp of his cloven hooves on the ground, the figure set the floor shuddering. His legs, arms, and torso were covered in rippling steel plates, but they did nothing to hide the bulging muscles beneath.

The speaker’s head was the most striking aspect of his appearance, though. Two ebony horns protruded from each side. Gold flecks swam in his eyes, and a drooping mustache—incongruous in his otherwise monstrous face—covered his upper lip.

A wise old minotaur?

Was this some sort of joke? But no, the minotaur striding towards me was no mundane creature. Far from it. He reeked of power—and not the ordinary kind.

This was a Power. This was the god-emperor.

“Tartar?” I guessed.

A smile touched one corner of the Dark Power’s lips. “Perceptive, too,” he murmured. Drawing to a halt before me, Tartar folded his arms across his massive chest and peered down at me. “You requested an audience?”

For a second, I said nothing—could say nothing.

Despite Tartar’s soft-spoken words, there was nothing soft about the aura of power that surrounded him. It hit me with the force of an avalanche, and for a drawn-out moment, I was stunned speechless.

As the minotaur had drawn closer, the ethereal flames of gold wreathing his form had surged outward to envelop me. They bore me no ill-intent—yet—but at the least hint of threat, I got the feeling they would snuff me out.

It was not only in the physical that I felt Tartar’s presence, though. My psi shields were up, firmly entrenched around my mind. Yet, even so, the Power loomed large in my awareness, his mind assaulting my defenses with the casual indifference of a scorching sun beating down on a dry desert.

Even the wolf in me—ever fiercely independent—shrank back from the naked might the minotaur exuded. Unlike every other Power I’d met, Tartar’s power was raw and undisguised.

Perhaps that is because I’m meeting him at the seat of his power, or maybe it is because, unlike his fellows, Tartar can’t be bothered to disguise his strength.

Somehow, I suspected the latter to be the case.

Recovering my equilibrium, I bowed respectfully. “I did. I received your token from—”

Tartar slashed his hand downward, leaving trails of gold in its wake. “I know where you got the token from.” He paused and added coldly. “I know all about your dealings with Captain Talon too. My envoy is not pleased with you.”

I bowed again, lower this time. “I kept my word to him,” I objected.

“That you did,” Tartar said. “And in the process, you did me a service.” He stared at me, eyes glowing. “It is one of the reasons you are still alive right now.”

“What’s the other?” I asked before I could bite back the words.

Tartar snorted. “Talon did warn me you were impertinent.” The Power waved a hand, and a black obsidian throne appeared behind him. “You are a thief and a sneak,” he said flatly as he seated himself. “And a deceiver too. And normally, I would not deal with one such as you.”

Despite my desire to protest this less-than-flattering description of myself, sense prevailed, and I remained silent.

Tartar steepled his hands before him. “But Talon speaks highly of your abilities, and more importantly, my envoy judges you honorable.” The minotaur held my eyes, his gaze radiating a silent menace. “Are you honorable, thief?”

I nodded carefully, not trusting myself to speak.

The threat in the Power’s gaze cooled, and he smiled. “Then, you may be of use to me in the future. That is the second reason you remain alive.”

I said nothing, but my relief was palpable.

“But do not mistake forbearance for need,” Tartar continued. “Waste my time or betray me, and I will see that you rue ever coming here. Understood?”

“I do.”

“Good. Now explain the reason for your intrusion in my home.”

I took a deep breath before plunging onwards. “I am here with information—and a proposition. Both, I think, will interest you.” I paused, waiting to see the Power’s reaction.

But Tartar only stared back at me impassively, giving nothing away.

With no other choice, I went on. “It involves Loken and a Game he is running against the Dark.”

Tartar’s eyes flared. “The trickster,” he growled and leaned forward. “What is he up to now?”

“Loken has taken out a contract for my death with the mantises,” I said.

“Menaq’s ilk? Impossible,” Tartar scoffed. “The mantises only work for the Dark.”

“Or for someone they think works for the Dark,” I corrected. “I know for a fact that Loken’s disguises can fool even a Power,” I added, thinking of how Hamish had entered Erebus’ dungeon.

Despite Tartar’s obvious skepticism, he didn’t dismiss my words out of hand. “Do you have proof?”

“No,” I admitted reluctantly. Seeing the Power’s face harden, I hastily added, “But I intend to get it before the next sunset.”

“How?” Tartar asked shortly.

I told him.

“Hmm,” Tartar said, rubbing his chin with one massive hand. “A plausible plan. Tell me more…”

Inclining my head, I did just that.

✵ ✵ ✵

Tartar kept me for hours, questioning me well into the night. More properly, it was an interrogation, exhausting and methodical.

Throughout, I remained scrupulously honest. Still, I did not share everything. I told the Tartar enough that he acceded to my proposal by the time I was done.

“You best be right about this, thief,” Tartar rumbled ominously when our agreement was concluded. “Otherwise, there will be consequences—for you.”

I nodded, understanding full well that I played a dangerous game, but if I wanted to free myself of Loken’s machinations, there was no other way.

Saying my farewells, I backed out of the antechamber. When I stepped out of the palace, I glanced up and saw dawn was not far off. Stifling my yawns, I headed to the global auction.

Despite the late hour, there was one more task I had to complete before I could call it a night. I needed a messenger to carry a missive for me, and I thought the market square was the most likely place in the safe zone to find a willing player.

Reaching the edge of the square, I scanned its depths. It was as packed as ever. Where to begin? My eyes swept across the crystalline spire in the center of the square. Hmm… I wonder if the bards still hang out there.

It was worth a try, I decided and, making for the spire, cut a path through the crowds. Sure enough, I found a handful of musicians standing idle at the base of the Adjudicator. What’s more, one of them was familiar.

Striding purposefully towards the half-elf, I called out. “Hello, there.” Little about the bard had changed in the months since I’d last seen him. He was still dressed in the same rich cast-offs and carried a well-cared-for flute. “Shael, wasn’t it?”

The bard turned around, his slanted eyes narrowing beneath his locks of flowing hair. “I remember you,” he said. “The deception player with too much gold in his pocket, right?”

I smiled and stuck out my arm. “The same.”

Shael shook my hand. “I’m surprised to still see you in Nexus. I’d thought a smart fellow like you would be long gone by now.”

I chuckled. “It’s a long story. But what are you still doing here? Don’t tell me you haven’t managed to escape the city yet?”

Shael sighed theatrically. “Keeping oneself fed and clothed in Nexus is expensive, and I’ve eaten through my earnings almost as fast as I’ve made them.” He paused. “Although, to tell the truth, I’ve grown comfortable here, and my yearning to leave has waned.”

I nodded even though I didn’t comprehend the bard’s attitude. If it was me, I don’t think I could have hung around idle for so long, but if Shael was content with his lot, I wasn’t about to question his choices.

“Speaking of coin, how do you feel about earning some?” I asked.

Shael grinned. “What do you need?”

I handed him the letter I had composed in the god-emperor’s palace. “I need you to deliver this. It’s for a player named Morin. You will find her in the Shadow Keep of the shadow quarter. Tell her…”