A light, airy tune filled the small room – the type of song that rang of contentment. Delvin Garber finished combing his hair back and then rubbed his chin while staring at his warped reflection.
“I do miss my goatee,” he said to no one but himself. “Without it, I appear too young. The others already seldom take me seriously.” He grinned. “Of course, I am rarely serious and that might have something to do with it.”
He straightened his dark blue coat and adjusted the collar. Satisfied by his appearance, he scooped up the vial of black liquid from his nightstand, slipped it into the band hidden in his sleeve, and left his small room in the servant’s quarters.
A curvy blonde was storming down the hall while looking over her shoulder. He put his hands up, catching her upper arms to stop her from running into him.
“Excuse me, Jeshica.” Delvin smiled his best smile as she looked at him with a start. “What’s the rush?”
She frowned up at him. “It’s the Archon, Helman. She assigned me a list of tasks to complete before she returns to her chamber, some of them quite time consuming. I have much yet to do and am on my way to get new sheets for her bed. I just hope Mavis has them ready, but I know she is quite understaffed right now.”
“Since Varius is locked away with Kardan and the Council, I’m sure she will be occupied for hours yet. In fact, Sheen has requested I help serve them dinner.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are the others still sick?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “This sickness has now stricken much of the citadel staff, guards and servants. Many have been healed multiple times, yet they continue to grow ill again and again.” That’s what happens when you drink from cups cast in pewter and arsenic. “The Ecclesiasts fear it is a disease they cannot control.”
Worry filled her eyes. “I pray to Issal I don’t become sick as well.”
“Well, the afflicted were sequestered this morning and are being held in the towers, away from those who are not ill. We can hope that keeps us free from this plague.”
The fear became more obvious as she bit her lip. “You don’t believe it’s actually the plague, do you?”
Delvin shrugged. “I am neither a healer nor a medicus, so I’ll not speculate.” Don’t worry, honey. Your cup was not among those I switched out. “Regardless, it is best to remain cautious.”
Jeshica nodded. “Yes. Of course.” Her eyes found the floor. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do.”
He stepped aside and held his arm out. “Please continue. Just try not to run anyone over.”
Jeshica continued past him, and Delvin eyed her swaying backside until she faded into the laundry room.
He shook his head. Too bad I don’t have time for another conquest. Quinn was right, the girl has changed for the better, her personality no longer spoiling her appearance.
With a sigh, he continued down the corridor and climbed the stairs, not stopping until he was on the second level. He stepped into the kitchen and found Master Sheen doling out instructions. A male and a female servant were nodding to Sheen while cooks, the two who had not become ill, were busily filling bowls with steaming soup and arranging them on wooden trays.
Sheen turned toward Delvin as he entered, the man huffing aloud. “There you are!”
Delvin nodded, “Yes. I believe you are correct, Sir.”
The man’s mouth turned to a frown. “I see your time away has not changed you other than the loss of that dreadful goatee. Someday, your mouth is going to get you into trouble.”
Someday? Try most days. “You are likely correct, Sir.”
“More importantly, keep your hands off the other serving girls. You already cost one girl her job, and you were lucky that you were only suspended.”
“This is the third time you have reminded me this week, Sir.”
Sheen’s fists rested on his hips, his face a scowl. “How many more will it take for it to register?”
“None, sir. I am quite finished with serving girls.”
“Good. As it is, you are lucky to have reappeared just when I needed help after Ebran disappeared.” He gestured toward the trays. “Now, take two trays. Poul will take the third and a bottle of wine. Marnie will take the water and goblets.”
“What about you, Sir?”
“I have other things to attend to at the moment,” His grimace deepened. “I pray this illness is short lived. I am exhausted from running this place with a skeleton crew.”
With a small bow, Delvin turned from Sheen and picked up two trays with four bowls on each. Poul claimed the third tray – the one holding two bowls, a pile of spoons, and a plate of rolls – before grabbing a carafe of red wine. They headed toward the door where Marnie waited with a tray filled with goblets and a pitcher of water.
Departing the kitchen, the trio hurried to the stairwell and descended to the ground floor. The hall was quiet with magistrates, guards, and palace staff all ill or afraid of becoming ill. Two guards outside the closed Council Chamber doors were the only people to be found.
Poul led them toward the guards where he stopped and bobbed his head. “Hello Tarshall, Ydith. We are here to serve dinner.”
Ydith shrugged. “Go on in, but you might find yourself scolded. They were expecting it some time ago.”
She knocked three times, waited a moment, and opened the door for the servants to enter. Led by Poul, Delvin and Marnie stepped inside before Ydith pulled the heavy door closed.
The nine thrones in the room were occupied as was the chair Kardan used when present. Many of the faces turned toward the servants, and some Council members commented about the food being late. Delvin ignored the comments as he set the two trays on a long table near the door. He and Poul then moved small tables from along the wall, placing one before each person. Once each table was in place, Poul and Marnie began placing and filling goblets with wine or water while Delvin returned to the bowls of clam chowder.
With his back to the room, Delvin removed the vial from his sleeve while humming an easy tune to mask any noise he made. He uncorked the vial and carefully poured a few drops of black ichor into each bowl. After recorking the vial, he slid it back into his sleeve and placed a spoon into each bowl, stirring the poison into the cloudy soup.
Poul arrived at his side and took a tray as he did the same. In moments, they had passed bowls of chowder to each person in the room. The trio of servants then returned to stand near the serving table as they waited on further instruction.
“Thank you,” Archon Varius said. “You three may leave.”
“Very well,” Poul said as he bowed.
Delvin, who was not yet prepared to leave, cleared his throat to draw attention. “Pardon me, Archon. As you are aware, much of the staff remains ill, including our best cooks. Before we depart, I wish to ensure you are satisfied with the food.”
Varius sighed. “Very well.”
Most of the Council members had already consumed one or more spoonfuls of chowder. Varius and Kardan each took a bite, completing the process.
“The soup is fine,” Varius said. “You may go.”
Delvin frowned. “Fine?” He shook his head. “Fine will not do.”
Some of the Council members began to cough and choke, drawing a frown from Varius. Mouths began to foam as they shook and twitched. The Archon’s eyes filled with alarm and she gasped. Kardan tried to stand, spilling his chowder in the process, the bowl rolling across the floor and creating a trail of pale liquid. The general stumbled and fell to his hands and knees as he tried to vomit.
The entire time, Poul and Marnie gaped. Finally, Poul looked at Delvin with wide eyes. “Poison!”
Delvin shook his head. “Sorry, Poul.”
In a fluid move, Delvin drew the dagger hidden under the back of his jacket, gripped Poul’s shirt, and pulled the man close. After slicing the man’s throat, he tossed him aside. Marnie spun toward the door, but was still too close. Delvin snagged the back of her dress and yanked. She stumbled backward with a yelp. His arm looped around her front and sliced her throat. Marnie fell to her knees, choking as blood seeped from the wound. Delvin’s gaze swept the room with his knife ready just in case the poison hadn’t finished the job.
The men of the Council were all clearly dead, as was Varius, who was facing him with a lifeless stare. Kardan was sprawled on his stomach, still twitching. Delvin knelt and wiped his blade clean on Poul’s jacket before returning it to the hidden sheath. He then straightened his coat and picked up the carafe of wine, which was still half full.
“This will not do,” he said as he poured the remaining wine into the pitcher of water, turning it to the color of blood. “My, how fitting.”
He then approached the door with carafe in hand. A backward glance toward the room revealed everything as it should be – motionless and lifeless. Opening the door, he slipped outside.