“Pointless limitations? Oh, please, do go on,” Caya said.
“If you’ve spoken to my injured men, then you know that we spent hours attempting to dig our way into the storehouse. Yet the moment I discovered Desmeres’s second entrance and decided times were drastic enough to deploy the wand, its magic was able to clear the way in minutes. Had we been given permission from the start, we would have been inside the storehouse when he arrived. We would have been waiting for him, armed with his own weapons. He would be in your custody right now.”
“If only I’d let you use the D’Karon magic as you chose,” Caya said.
“Yes. You have selected me to command the Elite. Let me do it as I know is appropriate.”
“Well now. That was very enlightening. Tell me, Anrack. Can you stand?”
“I can.”
“Then on your feet!” she ordered. “If you were trained to respect the crown, then you know that when the queen enters the room, every man woman and child must rise. I’m not a stickler for protocol and formality, but if you’re going to make the claim of respect for my position, you’d better show it.”
He stiffly rose.
“Good, now follow me. Tus, help him if he needs it.”
Queen Caya strutted out into the entry hall. Though Anrack moved swiftly to follow, Tus did not feel it was quickly enough, and stepped behind him to practically heave him out the door. The whole group, including Croyden, stepped into the entry hall. She pointed down to the marble floor.
“Look at this,” she said. “Brand new marble. Why? Because the old was damaged by the Chosen when they fought their way through here. Look there, on the wall. Fresh paint touching up a faded mural that took damage as well. And there. Bagu’s personal office, barred and barricaded after nearly costing my record-keeper his life and certainly costing him his clarity of thought even after the monster was already gone. We are rebuilding, Anrack. And the damage we patch is the damage left by the D’Karon. We are repairing the things they have done to us, and worse, we are repairing the things they had us do to ourselves. That is why you aren’t to rely upon their workings. That is why you aren’t to use their magic. We are leaving them behind. We are moving past them. They cannot be trusted, even in their absence. Everything they have ever done has been to facilitate conquest and control, and I am through seeing my subjects suffer through it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Queen.”
“Good. As it happens, I have spoken to your men in the infirmary. They explained how their fallen squadmate lost his life when he entered the storehouse of his own accord. As it was his mistake and not yours—at least, not directly—I won’t take your command from you. But you have made it clear that I was not clear when I assigned this mission. We want Desmeres. And he is only good to us alive. But we do not need him. Seek him, keep tabs on him, harry him, keep him moving. But do not risk the lives of your men. Yes, he stole from me. It is a slap in the face, but I have greater concerns at present.”
“This man killed one of your subjects, one of your Elite, and you would not make his apprehension a priority?”
“If someone came after me hurling D’Karon magic I would kill him, too, regardless of who it was. He’s got plenty to answer for, and he shall, because I’ve got the best soldiers in the world at my disposal and not even Desmeres can stay ahead of them forever. But the important thing is that the people know the Elite is together, active, and competent. I want you to succeed, but more crucially I do not want you to fail. So take your time, be sensible, and don’t pull another stunt like that. All D’Karon magic, all D’Karon artifacts, everything of theirs is off the table now, and you will act upon their information only after it has been cleared by me, Croyden, or one of the Guardians of the Realm. Understood?”
“Yes, my Queen.”
“Good.” She looked him up and down. “Now get to the infirmary. It looks like you took your lumps as well.”
“I prefer to let my wounds heal and use their lingering effects to motivate me not to make the same mistake twice.”
“You’ve got your bad leg and your burns for that. Heal the rest. That’s an order. I would stay to be sure you follow it, but Myranda and Deacon are due for a visit in a few days do discuss their progress and there is much to do to prepare.”
Caya marched off to other tasks. Tus lingered long enough to give Anrack a threatening glare before following the queen. When they were gone, Croyden stepped in front of Anrack.
“The infirmary is this way,” he said.
“I know the way,” the commander fumed.
Anrack headed to a hallway leading to the less ornate and more functional portions of the palace. Croyden matched his pace.
“Now that you’ve had your discussion with the queen, how do you plan to proceed?”
“The remains of my squad are, at this moment, tracking Desmeres. Would you permit me the use of a few runners to keep in contact with them?”
“Certainly.”
“I shall need to recruit a replacement for the man I lost, and bolster my ranks with a few new recruits. I would prefer if I would be permitted to make my own selections.”
“Under my oversight, that is permissible.”
“Furthermore, the queen mentioned a visit from the Duke and Duchess of New Kenvard. I wonder if I might be permitted a brief meeting with them.”
“To what end?”
“If I understand correctly, they each had dealings, in some cases extensive dealings, with Desmeres. Their insight into this matter and some others would greatly aid me.”
“I shall arrange it. Naturally you shall need to remain near to the capital in order to meet with them.”
“That suits my purposes. When I have received my treatment I intend to return to Fort Greenworth and continue investigating the records from the Generals. If I must clear every scrap of insight with you before acting upon it, I would do well to gather as much as I can as quickly as I can. And tell me, Lumineblade. Why have I not found any records and notes from General Teloran among the rest?”
“My mother was not a D’Karon. As such her notes and dispatches are not subject to the same scrutiny and security. Her formal military documents are in the palace archives.”
“And had she any personal effects? Diaries?”
Croyden did not reply immediately.
“Surely you see the value. Your mother had a relationship with my target. Such documents could contain valuable assessments of his character and behavior.”
“I shall endeavor to locate them and determine if they have anything of value for you.”
“With all due respect, if they contain something of value is for me to determine.”
“No, Anrack. We are discussing the personal writings and correspondences of my deceased mother. I consider it a profound violation to even share a word of them with you. I am a soldier, though, as was she. The kingdom comes first. But do not expect me to lay bare the private matters of my family simply to satisfy your curiosity.”
“Very well.”
They reached the infirmary and stepped inside. It was a neat, well-kept room. A royal infirmary often was meant to serve only the royal family and the nobles, and as such it would have been acceptable if there had been only a handful of beds. Verril was as much a fortress as a castle, built to house troops and withstand a siege, so it was far better appointed. Simple wooden beds lined each wall of the long room. Beside each was a table stacked with clean linen, basins of fresh water, and assorted tools of the healer’s trade. Only the first few beds were occupied, by his men. The rest of the beds were empty and ready to receive patients.
At the sight of their commander, the veteran Elites attempted to stand at attention, though several were heavily enough bandaged to make such a gesture difficult.
“Remain as you were, men,” he said.
Two white-robed clerics approached Anrack and led him to the nearest bed to look over his injuries.
“Did you have your meeting with Caya?”
asked one of the Undermine men turned Elite.
“I spoke to the queen,” he replied, emphasizing her title. “She has taken a keen interest in our tactics.”
“So what are we going to do now?”
“You shall have your orders when I deliver them, soldier. But I assure you, we shall be facing Desmeres again. And despite the rigid limitations under which we must serve, I intend to bring him to justice.”
#
Two days and one short supply run later, Desmeres and Genara worked their way carefully through the forest. The sturdy cart was quite capable of rolling over the uneven ground and fording the scattered streams that threaded through the woods, but staying on course was another matter.
“I’d always heard stories about Ravenwood, but I never thought I would actually travel through it,” Genara said. “How do you keep your bearings in this place? We may as well be indoors for all this foliage.”
It was a fair assessment. Ravenwood’s size alone would have made it a daunting thing to traverse. The forest ran along much of the length of the kingdom, hugging the base of the Rachis Mountains and stretching far out into the Lowlands. But what made it a particular challenge for those wishing to find their way was the canopy. Strange for a forest so far north, the mix of evergreen and other hardy trees grew tall and thick. Their branches entwined with one another and filtered all but the rarest slivers of light. On the brightest days, the heart of the forest existed in an eerie sort of twilight. At night, it was black as pitch.
A handful of roads ran along the edges of the forest, but those were well behind them. Now they depended upon Desmeres’s sense of direction to lead them where they needed to go. With nothing to show for their travel but an endless stretch of identical forest and a few nights sharing what little space was left in the bed of the cart in lieu of a tent, there was little to suggest he’d been having much success.
“One of the key aspects of my business partnership with Lain was my ability to have dealings in cities and other places he could not, so I’ll admit didn’t develop quite his level of intuition when it comes to navigating the wilds. But I did spend several years finding him, and that taught me a fair bit.”
Dowser, who sat between them, made a sudden break for the edge of the cart as some new, irresistible scent drifted by. Genara caught him by the collar and hauled him back. His little outbursts had become a constant part of their journey as they traveled deeper into the forest. Genara was barely fazed by them now, the retrieval of the puppy little more than a reflex.
“It seems like that would be a different set of skills. You’d be following a trail then when tracking him down.”
He laughed. “Lain didn’t leave a trail. The only chance I ever had to find him before the days when I could arrange to meet him was to figure out where he was going to be and get there before him.”
“And how did you figure that sort of thing out?”
“The trick to finding an assassin is starting with the whole map. Once a killer attains a certain level of notoriety, rumors start to fly about people he or she may have killed. You sift through them and discard the ludicrous. Then you figure out where the remaining deaths occurred and when. You trace out which might have been near enough to one another to have been performed by the same person. That was actually a bit of a setback for me, because I vastly underestimated how quickly Lain could travel without resting.
“After you make a list of probable jobs your target may have done, you visit them and learn what you can about who was killed, and then who would have wanted them dead. Once you find a few people who have hired the assassin in question, you can work out how he finds clients, and thus what clients he’s likely to find in the future, then you find your way to those clients first, and then you find your way to the victims, and eventually you catch a glimpse of the assassin. It can all be done in just a few years. Simple.”
“Yeah. Simple,” she said. “Did you ever find your way to the wrong assassin?”
“Twice. Fortunately, there tend not to be very many prolific figures in that line or work. At least, not with very lengthy careers. And it helps when you know the person you are looking for is a very rare species.”
“What did you do when you found the ones you didn’t intend to find?”
“I kept searching.”
“I mean, what did you do to the assassins.”
“Nothing.”
She gave him a hard look. “Nothing.”
“They weren’t who I was after.”
“Did it ever occur to you that you could have stopped them? For that matter, did it ever occur to you that you could have used these skills to continue finding them?”
“What purpose would that serve?”
“You would be ridding the world of bloodthirsty murderers!”
“No. You misunderstand the concept of assassins. I had to explain the same thing to Myranda. To be an assassin is to be a professional. They do not choose to kill people. They kill people that others choose. They are more of a murder weapon than a murderer. And they certainly aren’t bloodthirsty. A bloodthirsty killer is indiscriminate. An assassin targets only who he must, and acts only when a price is paid. That isn’t bloodthirsty. If anything, it is money-hungry. Or, as I choose to view it, enterprising.”
“You have a troubling worldview…”
“So I am told.”
“Should I be concerned about how forthcoming you are being?”
“Afraid I’m only telling you these things because I plan to silence you?”
“I wasn’t going to put that fine a point on it, but yes.”
“Lain’s dead. He has no need to keep secrets any longer. And I am no longer in that business. This is just idle chitchat now.”
“I see. And here I was thinking you might actually trust me.”
“I would say I trust you as much as you trust me.”
“… I suppose that says it all, doesn’t it?”
Again, Dowser burst from silence into a long, drawn-out howl. He was so vigorous that he dislodged himself from the seat and plopped into the foot well of the carriage again.
“His training is really coming along swimmingly, isn’t it?” Genara said, fetching and replacing the fallen pup.
“I’d expected to have a bit more time to dedicate to it. Although I suspect I know why he’s howling this time. … Ah, there, you see? He smells our future host.”
Just visible in the distance, a clearing shone bright light upon their intended destination. It was a curious thing to find in the center of a forest. Dominating the glade was a tower just tall enough to peek over the tops of the trees around it. Even from a distance, it was plainly in a state of disrepair. Bricks were missing here and there, with the whole tower skewed to one side as though the next stiff breeze would topple it. As they drew near, a cottage built around the base of the tower became visible. It was moderately better kept, its thatched roof holding up well under its load of snow.
They splashed through the icy crust of the nearby stream and rumbled up to the relatively clear courtyard surrounding the cottage. A small stable was attached to one side, and a single elderly nag stood inside.
Desmeres stepped down from the carriage and approached the door. He’d not taken two steps when it swung open to reveal a frail man in a white robe. He wore long white hair, a longer white beard, and a withering scowl.
“I don’t know what you came for, but you won’t find it here. Off with you!” he barked.
“Mr. Wolloff, I presume?” Desmeres said. “I believe you’ve worked with some friends of mine.”
“I’ve not worked with anyone I care to discuss. Now off!” he said.
“Would you at least consider taking payment in exchange for a bit of treatment?” Desmeres asked.
Wolloff glanced at Desmeres, then down to his legs. Bloodstains and a heavy lean upon Genara made the poor state of his legs quite clear.
“A man with injuries as bad as yours heading out into the center of Ravenwood f
or treatment is likely not the sort of man one should associate with. … How much money have you got?”
“How much will it cost to fix my legs, give our horses a rest, and possibly spend the night?” Desmeres asked, limping back to the carriage to access the hatch behind the seats.
“And forget you ever came, I imagine?” Wolloff said. “More than you’ve got.”
Desmeres hefted a small sack, then plunged his hand inside to pull out a fist full of gold coins. “Are you certain?”
Wolloff narrowed his eyes. “Right, inside then. The woman, too. The dog stays outside.”
“The dog isn’t trained, sir,” Genara said. “I’m not sure we can—”
“If the dog isn’t trained, that’s an excellent reason for it to stay outside! Put it in the stable along with your horses. But be quick about it.”
He stomped back inside and slammed the door.
“Well. He’s a ray of sunshine,” Genara said.
“He is one of the only trained healers available outside the main cities. When you are the only one filling a very important niche, you can be utterly intolerable and people will still tolerate you,” Desmeres said.
He hobbled up to the horses and began to undo their harnesses.
“You just get inside and have him work on your legs. I’ll see to this.”
“Nonsense. I can’t keep leaving you with the drudgery.”
Genara shoved him away from the cart. “Go! You’ll be doing me a favor. It’ll keep me from dealing with that old man for another few minutes.”
Desmeres nodded with a smile. “As you wish.”
#
Desmeres pushed open the door and stepped inside. He knew Wolloff lived alone in the cottage, but from the mess of the place one would have imagined it was home to half a dozen slovenly people. The three rooms offered barely enough space on the floor to walk. If the place had any semblance of order at all, it was in the placement of the piles. Dried provisions were heaped near the door of the pantry, never having made it inside. Clothes were piled on and beside the bed on the other side of an open door from the main room. And everywhere else, books. They littered every flat surface in teetering piles: Old books, new books, well-kept tomes, and ratty pamphlets. The only place free of them was a large stuffed chair near the hearth.
The Redemption of Desmeres Page 24
