Smoke and Mirrors
By Alison Harvey
Summary: Long ago, Sarah chose her dreams over Toby, a trap she came
to regret. Now, as a member of the Masquerade Court, she plans an
elaborate revenge against the Goblin King. At stake is the crown of
the Illusion Queen, mistress of Masquerade...
Author's note: A J/S story. Many thanks to Arianne and Alorindanya,
who tear my drafts apart and turn them into coherent chapters.
Special Chapter 5 note: I'd never thought writing could be hard
until I was trying to juggle this semester's classes and this chapter.
Chapter 5 is double the normal length in a sort of apology to
readers for waiting so long. Thank you all for your reviews so far--
every one has helped me write. Remember to review stories that you
like!
Disclaimer: The characters and ideas of Labyrinth are the property
of Jim Henson.
-------------
Chapter 5: Propositions
As his chestnut stallion neared the rendezvous, Eglan admired the
land spread before him.
trunks arching towards the clear sky in defiance of the earth. On
every graceful pale branch, deep red and white blossoms fought for
space with blue-veined leaves still unfurling after the bitter
winter. As he passed too near one cluster, a flurry of angry squawks
and fluttering wings announced the angry flight of yellow songbirds,
swirling around him in a stormcloud of beaks and wings before winging
off in disdain. Sunlight filtered through the spring foliage, turning
the ground into a patchwork of soft green and yellow.
Eglan was of the Labyrinth Court, however, and certainly not some
Summer or Crescent courtier who bowed to every tree and sang hymns
to the birds. Far more interesting to him was the woman in the center
of the clearing.
Yasmin leaned against the battered silver trunk of a venerable old
forest giant, her yellow skirts spread out over the lush grass in a
cloud of fabric. Her eyes were closed; asleep or resting, he
could not tell. Nearby, the white mare he had lent her clipped grass
peacefully, occasionally whisking its tail as insects came too close.
Grinning, he stopped the horse's leisurely pace and dismounted
quietly, leaving the horse to wander on its own until his call.
Removing a few items from the panniers, he stayed in the shadows of
the trees that circled the clearing, moving from one to the other
until he crept up behind the one she rested against. He paused,
admiring her creamy skin and the barest hint of freckles dusting what
little of her chest her riding dress exposed.
He prepared to swoop down on the unsuspecting woman.
"I know you're there, Eglan," Yasmin said, her half-closed eyes,
watching him lazily through thick lashes. "I heard hooves approaching
a long time ago."
He grumbled good-naturedly as he settled himself beside her against
the trunk of the ancient tree. She drew her knees up to her chest
as she sat up straighter and smiled at him.
"You're late," she said, and he marveled that she could make even a
chastisement seem sweet. She was nothing like the other woman who
currently warmed his bed, a high-spirited woman who had spent long
years posted in the Dwarven Realm away from her kind--and was twice
as enthusiastic to compensate for her long-cold bed.
Yasmin was more the type to flutter her lashes and tease a man to
distraction. He had earned very little from her so far, but
curiously, it had not yet bothered him. On the days when he nearly
washed his hands of her games, she would always let fall some astute
comment or analysis that reminded him of the quick intelligence he
found so intriguing. He had once preferred his women straightforward.
Now he was beginning to understand the lure of the chase.
Intelligence in a woman was a new and enticing for Eglan.
He wrapped a long arm around her, drawing her closer to kiss her
cheek. "I know. Let me make it up to you."
She wriggled in his grasp until she had regained her distance. "It
had better be good," she said, the corners of her mouth beginning to
droop. "I need to leave soon. Elise and I have an invitation
to supper, and I can't be late."
He was disappointed, and felt the beginnings of anger. "You
promised me you would dine with me tonight, Yasmin."
She shrugged delicately. "I'm sorry. It came up at the last minute
before I left, and if I refuse the Revels Count it could go badly for
me in the court."
For a brief moment he wondered how Jacopo could have tired of his
new bride so quickly, if he was inviting Yasmin over bare weeks after
the wedding. The wife was lovely, he recalled, although he preferred
Yasmin's type to the cool beauty of the Elven Court. Still, perhaps a
quiet invitation would be in order, once the wife realized the
behavior of her lord.
"Surely a dinner with me would be satisfactory in maintaining your
standing," he suggested. Any plans for Jacopo's wife were still weeks
in the making, and Yasmin was the woman who was here at the moment.
"If only," she said beguilingly, trailing a suggestive hand across
his chest and tangling her fingers in the laces of his shirt. "You
may be a duke, but you are not of Masquerade. Some might even view
such an association as...disloyal."
She was right, although he took care not to admit it openly. "How
then can I win back your favor, my lady?" His expression was
carefully neutral. Irritated by her pending absence, he began to
ponder whether or not Morganna had left his castle yet. Perhaps she
could be persuaded to stay another night before returning to report
to her liege.
Yasmin smiled winningly before folding her hands demurely in her
lap. "Not tonight, but perhaps I can find the time tomorrow."
In response, Eglan pulled out the bag from where it had lain
hidden behind the tree. Her eyes lit up expectantly, and her voice
was low and husky when she spoke.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Eglan watched her with barely narrowed eyes, contemplating her
eagerness. He had long guessed that Yasmin's goal was his land and
title, but actual proof proved to be somewhat startling. It made him
hesitate slightly before unveiling his surprise--the avarice in her
eyes threw his plans into doubt for a brief moment.
He put down the bag, ignoring her resulting pout. Instead, he held
out an empty hand and willed the trinket he had purchased and modified
earlier to appear on his palm. She gasped satisfactorily.
"Eglan, it's beautiful."
She extended her hand and he slipped the wrought ring onto her
pinky finger, allowing her to admire the way the sunlight caught the
onyx gems that studded the woven gold threads. Her sudden delight and
clear appreciation soothed his strange distrust of a moment ago.
Eglan watched Yasmin hold the ring up to the light, eyes as
calculating as any jeweler as she contemplated his sigil, and knew
she had received the message.
Eglan was pleased with what he had managed to convey without a
binding word or contract. The ring was not a guarantee of courtship,
just a precursor, and so easy to dismiss if the decision proved
wrong. Despite her attempts to keep him from more intimate contact,
he was growing fond of Yasmin: he enjoyed her visits, would go to
great lengths to see her happy, and saw a kindred grasping spirit
that would do well allied to his own. His demands for a wife were
slight. He wanted a trusted confidante, a beautiful woman on his arm
who could play her part in future schemes. Her mortality was a small
trifle compared with the fun they might have in the meantime...and
when he strayed, Eglan suspected Yasmin would find her own sport
with dry eyes.
She kissed him, a light brushing of lips, and her grey eyes were
alight with happiness as she threw her arms around him. The sudden
excess of contact disappointed him, ending as it did their long game
of cat-and-mouse.
As if divining his thoughts, Yasmin abruptly drew back, looking at
him with a measured gaze.
"Did you bring the others?"
He repressed a sigh, realizing how close he had been before she had
remembered. He tossed the bag at her and tried not to be angry at how
quickly she looked in and sifted her hands through the contents,
laughing with pleasure.
"This will be perfect," she told him. "Felicite's birthday is soon
and if I hurry I'll have just enough time to finish before Jacopo
sends for me."
"And what about me?" he asked.
She smiled seductively. "We'll think of an appropriate reward over
dinner tomorrow, perhaps."
He stretched and grinned, convinced once more of her devotion and
her willingness to play the game. For a moment he regretted that Morganna
would be the one in his chambers that evening.
"I'm sure we'll think of something," he said, not-quite-leering at
her.
Yasmin curtsied prettily after she had stood up, a demure act that
amused him. She was really quite good. "Could my lord then excuse me?"
As he lifted her into her sidesaddle and watched her make her
goodbyes, he pondered the enigma that had intrigued him for so long.
He was certain that Yasmin, tempted with lands and money, would be
happy to be a Duchess surrounded by pretty toys. A wife would make
him appear less threatening, which would allow him to redouble his
efforts to make a fool of the Goblin King. He might entrust her with
the keeping of some schemes once he had her firmly contracted and
unable to sell her knowledge to a higher bidder.
Eglan believed in quid-pro-quo, preferably to his benefit. After
what he had given her today, she had better offer something in return
soon, he decided as he mounted his own horse. He galloped away,
determined to catch Morganna before she could leave.
-----
Elise was already dressed when Sarah rushed in, looking slightly
out of breath. She clutched a cloth sack in one hand tightly as she
ran past the sitting room and into her chambers without closing the
door. Elise stifled a laugh as she heard the soft cursing drifting
through the rooms.
"Looking for the red silk?"
Sarah poked her head out the door. "Yes. What have you done with it?"
"You ran right past it," was the dry reply. "I put it out here so
you wouldn't have to search through your closet, but I didn't expect
you to be in such a hurry to hide the material."
Huffing, Sarah moved past her to where the dress was draped over
the chair. She looked at it disdainfully and disappeared into her
room. Scathing words could be heard dimly from the room, muffled from
time to time by cloth. She emerged in her chemise, careless of
modesty, only to grab the dark red silk irritably and retreat back
into her room. Sarah reappeared at last to sit at Elise's vanity,
ignoring her friend's look of infinite suffering.
Elise followed her and began lacing the sleeve ties over the belled
sleeves of the chemise as Sarah brushed her red hair, deciding to
leave it down for such a casual gathering. A touch of shimmering
silver makeup above her eyes created the illusion of Fae blood
satisfactorily, and although Elise raised her eyebrows at this new
addition, she said nothing. A quick application of deep red lipstick
completed the appropriate look, and Sarah saw Elise's decisive nod in
the mirror signaling that she was as ready as she could be.
They had been in the sitting room for only a few minutes when they
heard a knock on the door. A maid entered.
"Your pardon, Lady," she said respectfully to Elise. "The Revels
Count has arrived and is waiting in the antechamber." She left
quietly, the two women following.
Jacopo, Count of Revelia, was waiting as Sarah and Elise entered.
The maid excusing herself to her duties and left, tossing a quick
look over her shoulder at the count as she exited. Jacopo had propped
his booted feet on a low table placed before the plush velvet
armchair he had chosen. He stood up and kissed both extended hands
elegantly, but with a certain careful regard for the redheaded woman.
"A pleasure," he said. "Now, if you'll gather near?"
"No carriage?" Elise was genuinely surprised at the young Count's
generous offer.
He grinned, a subtle reminder of his younger age. "I'm Count now,
remember?" He plucked at the golden chain that fastened his cloak.
"It's not a problem anymore."
Both women moved closer, and within a moment the surroundings had
flickered and changed to those of Jacopo's ancestral manor. Sarah
looked around appreciatively, but said little as Jacopo and Elise
chattered on the way to dinner.
She remained thoughtful through the salad of fresh greens, held her
tongue during the soup and was noticeably quiet during the fierce
political conversation held when the roast meat was served. Even
Felicite's bawdy speculation concerning several of the older men of
Masquerade failed to elicit a response from the usually vivacious
woman, who instead contemplated the meat as she cut it into neat
pieces. The other three filled in the conversational gaps delicately,
working around her usual contributions.
When the last plates had been cleared and the four had removed to
the salon to share an excellent aged brandy, Jacopo whispered
something to his wife. She pulled a face, kissed him on the cheek,
and excused herself. The moment she was gone, Jacopo confronted the
long-silent woman.
"Yasmin, what's wrong?"
Elise snorted, relaxed. "Perhaps she's frightened by your lack of
tact." The combination of good wine and food had loosened her tongue.
Jacopo was taken aback, and Sarah took advantage of his silence to
speak. "Count, are you happy with Felicite?"
He shook his head in surprise before answering the question. "Of
course I am. She everything I hoped for in a wife." Looking at the
woman across from him, he stopped to rephrase. "That is, she and I
are happy together, even if she wasn't necessarily my first choice."
He paused again, slowing. "I would never have thought I would say
this...but I'm glad it happened this way. I find you very attractive,
Lady Yasmin, but you were right. Felicite and I work well together,
and we care for each other. I'm not sure we would have been the same."
"Well-said," Sarah said lightly. She had winced slightly at the
address, but had concealed it well. "Although I would tell you as a
friend that you should guard your words more."
Elise broke in then. "What she means is that while your emotions
serve you well, less honest courtiers could use them against you. You
still need to learn whom you can trust. What if Lady Yasmin had been
angry?"
Jacopo winced, but took the rebuke as the constructive criticism it
had been intended as. Rather than retreating, he pressed further
while the conversation was still open. "Yasmin, are you upset that I
married Felicite?"
His boldness was much shrewder than Sarah had expected, and she let
a smile cross her face. "Not at all. I believe things have worked for
the best, and I am glad for your happiness."
Clearly relieved, he leaned back to take a sip of his brandy. "I'm
still learning the rules of the game, and have been glad for both
your advice, Yasmin, and yours, Lady Elise."
"Please, just Elise. We are friends." Having said that, she
relinquished the discussion to Sarah.
"Do you remember what I told you the night I introduced you to
Felicite, Jacopo?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "I take it that you've come to collect
your favor."
Pleased that he had grasped the essentials quickly, Sarah took a
deep breath. "I want you to ask King Jareth to crown the Illusion
Queen." She watched his expression freeze then pass from shock to
suspicion, melt into amusement at the joke, then surprise when he
realized from her and Elise's set jaws that they were not, in fact,
playing some elaborate prank.
Finally he spoke, completely unsure of how to take the request.
"Why?" he demanded.
Sarah's estimation of the young Count continued to grow. She had
cultivated him as a friend because she recognized his potential and
admired his honesty in a Court that professed deception as an art.
The question he had asked proved that the time had been well-spent.
As planned, Elise spoke next. "Because we want to see a Queen of
Masquerade once more."
"You mean that you want to choose the next queen yourself and
influence her," he shot back, but Sarah could see he was not averse
to the idea.
"Because I want revenge against Jareth," she offered quietly, and
he looked at her, suddenly hostile.
"Why would I betray my liege?"
"Not that kind of revenge," Elise said sharply, breaking the
growing tension. The angry glance she shot to Sarah was rebuke enough
for her careless words. Chastened, Sarah kept her silence as Elise
continued, seeking to turn the conversation back to safer ground.
"Believe me, you can ask to open the search with a clear conscience.
She does not seek to hurt him as you think."
"But why?" Jacopo said. "Why have you approached me to reopen this,
of all things? Have you thought this through?" He stood up and began
to pace about the room as the two women watched, stopping to rub at
his forehead in dismay. "I don't see why," he said quietly. "I can
understand wanting to influence the throne, but revenge? Something's
missing." Suddenly, he turned to Sarah.
"It's you. I'm not sure what, but it makes no sense for you to be
here otherwise. Elise could have simply come on your behalf." He
looked at her accusingly.
Sarah looked at her glass, watching the play of light on the cut
crystal. She raised her eyes to meet his, but said nothing.
"She came with me," Elise said, "because she is Sarah Williams."
The revelation was too much for the bewildered man, and he sank
immediately into the chair and drained his glass. Elise reached over
and refilled it, which he gratefully accepted and gulped down.
Finally reaching the bottom of the glass, he looked up once more,
assessing Sarah carefully.
"That makes sense," he muttered. "If it's all a bit fantastic. The
woman who beat the Labyrinth returns to seek revenge. And you want to
do so by starting the search for the Illusion Queen. And since it must
be a man, and a member of the Masquerade Court, it must be me. But..."
This time, Elise knew better than to add to his confusion. Sarah
grimaced, and then began to speak. "Jacopo, I need your help to do
this. No one else could propose it without being laughed at."
"I don't think even I can," he said, cradling his head in his hands
and speaking to the floor. "Can't you ask for something else? This is
not some little game. Jareth will have my head for this."
"Think, Jacopo," Sarah said, speaking with all the care she could
muster. "Think of what I'm proposing and how you will benefit. The
king can't hurt you for it--it's not within his right to punish you
for this. I wouldn't ask if I thought it might hurt you."
She stopped, considering her next words. "Well, it wouldn't be fair
if I didn't acknowledge that he will be displeased. You may lose
favor in Labyrinth for some time...but can't you see how you benefit
in the end? The last time I came to you with a strange idea, you
didn't appreciate it. But now, can you see that I was right?"
He didn't move, but she knew she had gained a point.
"I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't think I could offer you
something in return. With the Illusion Queen directing the resources
of Masquerade, think of how someone from Labyrinth could profit. You
could have so much if this works."
"But only if it does," he said. Although he had not faced her again
yet, he was clearly beginning to be convinced.
"You gambled on my proposition before," she reminded him, her voice
hardening in stern reminder. "Jacopo, please take this chance. You
owe me this favor. Your word and honor."
At this he raised his head, and she saw that amusement that had won
out over hesitation. "Crazy as it is, I think that you and Elise will
win this out...Sarah Williams." He shook his head. "And to think I
nearly married you. The Sarah."
"Don't let Felicite hear you say that," Sarah warned lightly. She let
her relief show on her face. As it had when Elise had called her by her
true name she felt happiness bubble up inside of her, breaking down old
barriers. After years of planning it was finally beginning to come true.
"Then you'll ask tomorrow?"
A slow smile spread across Jacopo's face as he realized the date.
"Yes, tomorrow--the night of the full moon. The petitioning night of
the Goblin King."
The two satisfied faces across from him confirmed his suspicions.
"You had this planned down to the very second, didn't you?"
It was a rhetorical question, but nonetheless their expressions
again signaled the answer clearly. He grinned and filled each of the
three glasses with brandy in turn from the delicate decanter. "To the
Illusion Queen."
They toasted merrily.
"And now," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You must
tell me exactly what you have planned. I know your story, Sarah
Williams--it was not so long ago. I approve of this method of
revenge, as it will not cause me to break my oath. But if I am to go
to the court tomorrow night, I must know all the details."
When they had finished telling him, he laughed long and heartily
before calling for another toast. Three voices echoed in the cozy
salon.
"To the Illusion Queen!"
-----
Far away, in the Goblin King's private study, Marcus was finishing
a lengthy list of happenings within the bounds of the Labyrinth and
the lesser Masquerade kingdom.
"...and a party of djinn have been making their way across the
lands to the Crescent Court. They are staying with relatives in the
Masquerade Court, but some will be lodging in the Goblin City."
"They are not, under any circumstance, to enter the castle proper.
Explain the ward magic to them," Jareth said, pushing his hair back
from his face carelessly.
"It will be done," Marcus said calmly. "Although they will no doubt
want to know the reason why." He looked at Jareth carefully.
"They have no business knowing," Jareth said sharply, and Marcus
let it drop.
"What more?" Jareth said after an awkward pause. "What minor
fripperies of Masquerade await my attention this week?" He propped
his boots on the edge of the dark ebonwood table as he leaned back,
his hands behind his head. "Let me guess," he said dryly, his
previous mood already forgotten. "There has been a fight between two
courtiers over a third, or a duel concerning who shall host the next
dance."
Marcus said nothing as Jareth chuckled to himself, fighting the
urge to say what had been on his mind. Before his silence could grow
noticeable, he picked up the last parchment with its neat summation
of recent past events and began to read.
"Riallyn and Metis have made their peace," Marcus began in the
style of his informal reports as advisor to the king: short, stripped
of titles when necessary, and straight to the point.
Jareth interrupted, his lighthearted mood gone. "Riallyn, mother of
that precocious Rhiannon. Wasn't there an altercation with Riallyn
and Metis' husband? How did this come about?"
"Metis feels the weight of age," Marcus explained, "and seeks
peace. She is weary of holding the vendetta and, in light of the
friendship between their daughters, sought to end it before it could
pass to the next generation."
Jareth nodded. "Keep an eye on them. It sounds plausible, but I
suspect this truce was brokered by the two daughters. To announce it
publicly means that they hope for some sort of concession as a reward
for their humanitarian work."
"Rhiannon means to make herself more palatable for the marriage
market, I suspect," offered Marcus.
Jareth smiled maliciously. "As I said, a precocious child. I
believe she was the woman who tried to dance with you at the last
Masquerade ball?"
Marcus could not quite repress a shudder. "Moving on," he said
stiffly. "Due to the recent marriage of Jacopo and Felicite, the
elves have decided to renegotiate their materials contract with
Revelia a season earlier than previously. I believe they think
Rebekah's daughter will sweeten their terms."
"An official envoy from Queen Eleanor, or simply merchants looking
for their own independent sources with friendly ties to their people?"
"Both," Marcus said. "The Queen, of course, sought to ensure that
they still have the finest quality ores from the mines. However, the
jeweler's guild has asked for a contract supplying high quality gems
on an annual basis for a local branch they recently established in
Masquerade. The initial contract is for five years but depends on
quality. I've done some calculations here, if you'd care to look at
them."
Sitting up, Jareth leaned over to look at the careful columns of
numbers, nodding in satisfaction. "Make sure Jacopo knows his good
fortune was due to a casual conversation of mine," he said. "As I
recall, this sort of merchandise is covered under the agreements of
the yearly tithe. In an effort to promote growth, tell him I've
decided that it should only be half the usual where the gems are
concerned."
Marcus nodded, pleased. Any benefit to Felicite helped his family
in turn. "A wedding present, sir?"
"Jacopo is loyal," Jareth said, "but has a large stake in seeing
that his lands do well now that he is Count of Revels. Aram, as you
recall, was far too stubborn to change from the live-off-the-land
style the Counts have followed for centuries. Jacopo has some modern
ideas about avoiding isolationism that can only benefit both him and
Labyrinth as a whole. He needs encouragement, however." He looked at
Marcus carefully, who took the expected hint. Felicite was his cousin-
by-blood and therefore Revelia was within his personal sphere of
influence. He would bring the subject up on his next visit and see
how the young Count reacted to the idea.
"Before you discuss the next item," Jareth said, stretching,
"answer me this: Why are the merchant elves in Masquerade instead of
the Goblin City?"
"They followed the demand, I believe. I'll have someone look into
it." Marcus said, making a note of the request. He looked up when
finished. "Something in particular you'd like me to investigate?"
"No matter. It has occurred to me, however, that
the usual cachet of spelled gems seems a bit too practical for the
neighborhood. And a closer source would be convenient for us."
"Masquerade's lure as a market of luxury goods should not be
overlooked," Marcus reminded the king. Jareth nodded absentmindedly,
settling back in his chair and motioning for Marcus to continue.
"That was actually the last item," the advisor said, setting the
parchment down. "However, there is one more recent alliance I'd like
to discuss with you."
"Oh?" Jareth asked, raising his eyebrows. "Go on."
"Eglan of Labyrinth and Yasmin of Masquerade."
Much as Marcus had done when Rhiannon was named, Jareth shuddered.
"I wish them the best of luck. That will no doubt fracture in a day,
if both are fortunate. Although I must admit I am surprised. Eglan's
taste is usually much better. And I know he is currently enjoying
that Fire envoy--Morganna, I believe." He half-smiled in remembrance.
"A delightful woman, if a bit empty-headed."
"You will recall, your majesty, that I warned you that some
Masquerade women are less susceptible to your charms than others,"
Marcus began tentatively, his voice strengthening as he saw he had
Jareth's attention. "I have reason to believe that Yasmin was more
than happy to avoid you at the last ball. Furthermore, my sources
inform me that her quick association with Eglan was a reaction to
you." He carefully explained what he had observed from the corners of
the last ball, adding a few rumors from the gossip mill for good
measure.
"So the chit did it deliberately?" Jareth asked smoothly. He tugged
at a glove, a sign of his annoyance. "That's the first time I've
seen it done so well in years, I must admit."
"I believe it is a serious matter, my lord. She has some reason to
dislike you and has uncannily chosen the one Labyrinth courtier who
might share her beliefs."
Jareth shrugged, dismissing his advisor's concerns. "So they are in
the open. All the better."
Marcus frowned. "They could be a threat to you, Your Majesty. With
your permission, I'd like to do some investigation into Yasmin's
past. It appears that she is a drifter of some sort. She could
possibly be the agent of another kingdom."
The Goblin King laughed. "And which courtier isn't? I believe,
Marcus, that you give her far too much credit. The Masquerade Court
has always attracted riffraff. That she has made it this far speaks
of her ability to thrive, suggesting some worthiness. Although she
did in fact deceive me," and here the Goblin King's smile slipped a
fraction, "I doubt very much indeed we will have to worry about her.
No doubt she played her anger into attracting Eglan. Now that she has
her prize, she will have his attentions for a week and then Eglan will
move on."
His eyes narrowed. "However, Marcus--if it appears to be more than
a dalliance, inform me immediately. A mistress is a minor concern. A
wife is a challenge.
Marcus thought of protesting the easy dismissal of Yasmin. In his
opinion, she was equally as disturbing as the long-scheming Duke. He
held his words, feeling the heavy weight of Jareth's consideration.
"Understood, my lord. I will see you tonight at the Court."
He bowed and left, still mulling it over as he made his way to his
chambers. Perhaps he had overreacted. Jareth certainly didn't think
that Yasmin was the threat. And lest he consider that his king was
simply less alert, his clear recognition of Eglan as a danger was
reassuring. The message conveyed by Jareth earlier was clear: Yasmin
was beneath the notice of the Goblin King.
As he entered his chambers he nodded to himself absentmindedly.
Investigation was a waste of time and resources that he would rather
use on Eglan, eternal thorn in the Goblin King's side. Yasmin struck
him as an opportunist. As Jareth had shrewdly pointed out, Eglan
would be tired of her within a week. It was nothing to worry about.
Marcus was a practical man with a gift for figures and a lesser
talent for logic. Had he been born into a lesser family such skills
would have made him a fine accountant. He was a capable counselor,
but Jareth had promoted him to the position of chief advisor due more
to trust than superior skill. He preferred logic to the sort of gut-
instinct leaps that his liege practiced so frequently.
Nonetheless, as he considered Yasmin he could have sworn he felt a
tug in his gut, which with more experience he might have called
intuition. Shaking his head, already drawn into the heady swirl of
profit margins and market yields, he ignored the feeling and sat down
to his desk to finish his work.
------------
End note: Chapter 6 will be posted by the end of November. Promise.