The King of the Vile by David Dalglish Page A

said neck-beard. “Now can we move on? With Kevin Maryll’s coup a colossal failure, we must forge a new plan, one that can handle the half-orc’s interference.”
    “And his wife’s,” added Anora.
    Tarlak’s eyes widened. Dear Ashhur, what is going on over there?
    “In time,” Roand said. “For now, we have a new member who must be accommodated. Tarlak, have Cecil show you to Madral’s old room, as well as the supply closet so you might obtain a proper set of robes. Once this meeting is over, I’ll send for another master to begin integrating you into the tower’s routine.”
    “As you wish,” Tarlak said, maddened that he couldn’t stay to listen but knowing he was already pushing his luck. He spun about, opened the door, and grinned at Cecil Towerborn, who waited patiently on the other side.
    “Judgment reached,” Tarlak said. “I’m now a member. Apparently you’re to show me to Madral’s old room. My guess is that it’s about to become mine.”
    Cecil’s eyes widened, and his nostril’s flared as if he were a bull about to charge.
    “Follow me,” the apprentice said through clenched teeth.
    Tarlak chuckled as they descended the stairs.
    “Who’d have thought they’d make me a permanent member?” Tarlak said while Cecil seethed. “Hey, come to think of it, since you’re still an apprentice, that gives me authority over you, right? How incredibly amusing, don’t you think?”

    Cecil paused mid-step, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he looked ready to commit murder. The sight put a smile on Tarlak’s face. Maybe life in the towers wouldn’t be entirely awful after all...

 
     
    6

    H arruq sat at the foot of the bed, scratching his chin.
    “Hey Aurelia, if I abdicate my position, does that put you in charge?”
    Aurelia hoisted Aubrienna up onto a footstool before the large oval mirror in their bedroom, letting their little girl stare at herself while her mother brushed her hair.
    “An elven woman ruling from a human throne?” Aurelia said. “I think we have enough riots as it is. Let’s try not to add more.”
    “Worth a shot,” he sighed.
    “Not really.”
    Harruq chuckled as he watched his wife loop yellow ribbons through Aubby’s hair, tying them into neat bows to hold together the various curls. Harruq looked at his own beefy hands and frowned. He could hack a god to death with his swords, but those little bows would always be beyond him. It was strange how skilled he could be in one thing, and totally inept in another. Just like he could lead men to victory in battle but fail so spectacularly when he had to lead those same men with his ass stuck to a cushion in the middle of an ornate throne room.
    “If I can’t swing my sword, I’m useless,” he mumbled. “Some great hero I am.”
    He caught Aurelia staring at him in the mirror, and his neck flushed.
    “Sorry,” he said. “Feeling a little morbid today.”
    “Morbid?” Aubrienna asked. Her auburn curls bounced when she turned her head. She wore a green dress with golden trim, and it made her look much older than her five years.
    “It means daddy is feeling stressed and sad,” Aurelia said, kissing the top of her head. “Go give him a hug and kiss. It’ll make him feel better.”
     Aubrienna hopped down from the stool, ran the five steps to the bed, and flung herself at Harruq as if her life depended upon it. Harruq smiled as he scooped her up, grunting as if she weighed a thousand times more than her actual weight.
    “Such a big girl,” he said as he pulled her close.
    “You’re the best daddy,” Aubrienna told him. “The very best, so don’t be sad.”
    She kissed his cheek, and sure enough, it did help ease his grumpiness. Kissing her back, he put her down and stood.
    “With such a blessing, how can I not conquer all who oppose me?” he asked. Aurelia winked at him as she adjusted her matching green and gold dress.
    “I’m taking her and Gregory to the market,” she said. “I think