An Error In Judgment

The next several days passed rather quickly for me. I remained in Father's keep, spending much of my time working on several additional portraits of Blethius. They were no easier than the first had been, a fact I continued to find vexing. After a time, I drew a Trump of Derrick as well, in part because I suspected he would be turning up again, but in part to reassure myself that my overall skills had not atrophied. His Trump, at least, came easily to me. I also made several additional attempts to contact Sarah during this time, but all of them went unanswered.

On the morning of my fifth day at the keep, I received a Trump call...not from Sarah, as I had hoped, but rather from Momus. I had not heard from him in nearly a week, since we had returned from our first visit to the keep, so naturally I was rather curious as to why he would choose to Trump me now...and where he had gotten a Trump of me, for that matter. Not wanting to let him know that I was staying at the keep, I teleported to Skeltland and entered my quarters before I allowed the call to go through.

Momus came into focus looking rather harried, and he wasted no time on pleasantries. "Melanie, I have a favor to ask of you. Something has come up."

I gave him an inquiring look. "Indeed? What would that be?"

"Oh, Lord Shaenan, for whatever reason, is apparently thinking of deposing Stead," he responded in a rather casual tone, as if he were merely discussing the weather instead of the Emperor moving against his own nephew.

"And why would he want to do that?" I asked, feeling no small amount of curiosity.

"I have no idea."

Somehow I doubted that. Perhaps he was feeling constrained by the nature of our conversation. Trump can have ears, after all, although I could detect no one listening at the moment. "Would you like to come through?" I offered

"That's all right, I'm not concerned with anyone overhearing this one."

"All right." Which meant that what he was discussing was either public knowledge, or he had a reasonably powerful Trump artist checking the link. Given the nature of our conversation, I doubted it was the former. Still, if he was not concerned with eavesdropping, then I wanted more information. I was not foolish enough to believe that Shaenan would move against Stead without some sort of reason.

Obviously Momus realized this, for he went on, almost dismissively, "Oh, Stead's been making a few changes, and I guess the Emperor feels that's a bit too ambitious."

And what were those changes, I wondered? And were they connected to the painting of Theocritus that Momus had presented to Stead? Even if I was correct in my suppositions about the nature of that painting, it was too soon for Theocritus to be making any sort of move. Surely he would lay low for a time, to get a feel for the situation in the Courts, and in his House. I frowned slightly. "And so he means to...?"

"Eliminate the Duke."

I was shocked. "He is going to eliminate his own nephew?"

Momus nodded. "All I really wanted to know is if I could...borrow Werewindle."

I paused, my mind still reeling from the implications of his previous statement. "That is a favor," I finally allowed.

"Yes. I can assure you it will be returned, and that no one will know that it's been involved."

Assuming he was not caught in...whatever it was he was going to do. I decided not to ask just what that might be. It was safer not to know exactly what he would be using it for...in case he wound up on the losing side. "You realize I will, of course, expect a...certain favor in return."

"Well, you know my favors are always at your disposal...Melanie."

Was it my imagination, or was he insinuating a different type of favor than what I had been referring to? Surely not. "It is not necessarily your favor I will be needing," I pointed out.

"The Duke's?"

"Perhaps."

"The Duke, I'm certain, will be amenable to anyone who helps preserve his life," Momus allowed.

Naturally. The question was, was the promise of that favor sufficient for me to risk involvement in this mess? If Shaenan was, indeed, moving against Stead, any support of Stead could easily be viewed as treasonous. In theory, I should be relatively safe, since it was not generally known that I possessed Werewindle, so even if it was identified in whatever Momus was planning, it would be difficult to trace back to me. Still, the venture was not without some risk to me. If Momus were caught and probed, he could reveal my involvement in the matter, however slight. And, there was the chance that the sword could be lost, and if it fell into Shaenan's hands, I could hardly ask to reclaim it. Still, the potential benefits to me if Stead, or rather, Theocritus, survived were hard to ignore. I desperately wanted to learn Theocritus' secrets regarding Trump, and if I helped preserve his life... I hesitated, torn between my desire for power and my fear of working against the Emperor. I recalled all too well what had happened the last time I had earned an Emperor's wrath. It has cost me much. But, in the end, power won out over caution. I nodded my agreement and unbuckled Werewindle, handing it to Momus carefully. He accepted it with a grave nod, and the contact ended, leaving me alone with my thoughts, nervous butterflies in my stomach. Now, all I could do, was wait.

I waited a day, as it turned out, before I heard from Momus again. I had remained in Skeltland in hopes of hearing more about the fate of Stead, but there had been no news at all on the matter. Then a servant informed me that Lord Momus was there to see me, and I had him shown into my sitting room, checking again to make sure that all of my wards were in place...especially the wards against eavesdropping. Whatever news he had for me, it would not be anything I wanted overheard.

Momus entered the room carrying Werewindle and a rather large package. I raised an eyebrow upon seeing the latter, and inwardly my heart sank. "It did not go so well?" I observed.

"Oh, well, it did and it didn't." Momus sighed. "Theocritus decided to cut his losses."

I hid my irritation. "Really? That is going to make it difficult to get anything from him."

Momus indicated Werewindle. "This worked marvelously well. Do you know a woman by the name of Meredith?"

Meredith. The name sounded familiar. "I think I remember seeing her vaguely once at the Tir. A redhead?"

"Nearly hobbled her with it," Momus said smugly.

"Really?" I checked to make sure there was no blood on the sword, while doing my best to conceal the anger that boiled up within me. Idiot! It was one thing for him to have used the sword against Shaenan's men, but an Amberite? And then to maim her and leave her alive? What was he thinking? Nothing was more dangerous than an immortal with a grudge. It was not a possibility I had even considered might happen. After all, why would an Amberite involve herself in what amounted to Chaos politics?

Upon examining the blade, I was relieved to find that Momus had cleaned it quite well...even polished it. At least there would be no tracing of the blade via that means. I tried to restore a measure of calm to my features, and was relieved that there was only a trace of irritation in my voice as I asked, "Do you think she recognized it?"

Momus emitted a small laugh. "From behind? I don't think so."

"Good." If she had, it would have been risky for me to continue wearing the sword, despite the protections it gave me.

Momus set the wrapped painting down at this point. I did not need to ask who was depicted on it. "Now we will have to find another place for it," I noted.

"What about Nessarose?"

My eyes widened a bit at the sheer idiocy of that idea. "I do not know if I want to bring that kind of grief down on my own house." As a matter of fact, I was quite certain that I did not, based on the results I had seen in Jesby.

Momus sighed. "It only becomes a problem when people start talking."

"It becomes a problem when people notice that the person is acting strangely. It did not seem to take that long at all in your house, did it?" Theocritus obviously had no concept of subtlety, or patience, for that matter.

"He's not very good at it, but he's learned his lessons, I suspect, by now."

"Perhaps." I did not bother to keep my disbelief from my voice. "I am not sure I want to experiment on my house next."

"That is true, but he did seem to do well with the father, why not the daughter?"

I sighed, concluding that Momus' criteria for doing well were far less stringent than mine. "There must be somebody else. Someone less noticeable." Someone less important to Chanicut.

Momus kind of looked at me then, and smiled. "What about the girl?" he asked.

It took me a moment to think of who he was referring to, as I had not known that he was aware of her existence. "Lenore?"

"Yes."

I had to laugh at that. "How perfect." Indeed, it was not a bad choice. By placing Theocritus in an infant, we could avoid the problem of him giving himself away by acting in a manner that was unlike his host body. Not to mention that it would force him to lie low for a while. Still, I was not eager to perform such a transfer right away. Given Lenore's age, it would be years before she was old enough for me to learn anything from Theocritus, not to mention that he might be somewhat cranky to find himself reborn in the body of an infant girl. And there was no reason to rush. For the time being, I offered to store the painting at Father's keep, until the uproar over Theocritus' reappearance died down. Perhaps by the time that happened, we might have discovered other, more suitable, candidates.

Momus agreed with my assessment and quickly departed, perhaps sensing the irritation I still felt toward him...and towards myself. Giving Werewindle to Momus had been a serious error in judgment on my part, done because I feared that Theocritus might die, and with him the knowledge I was so desperate to claim. But in my eagerness to gain that knowledge, I had forgotten Father's most important rule: Power avails you nothing if you are dead. It was a rule that he himself had forgotten, to his peril. I could only hope that I fared better in this case.

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Last modified on March 17, 2000 by Kris Fazzari.