Death's Executioner

by Charlotte E. English

  Konrad hastened forward to take it from her. Setting it on the floor, he helped Nanda into the room, and firmly shut the trapdoor behind her. Night brought a deepening of the piercing cold, and he wished again that he could contrive some means of bringing warmth to his otherwise perfect hut.

  He settled for enfolding Nanda in a tight embrace, for she was warm, and maybe he felt so to her, too.

  He felt her eyebrows go up, pressed though her face was against his shoulder. ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ he said into her hair.

  ‘I did say I would.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You cannot have doubted me, surely.’ She spoke with a trace of humour, and when she pulled away Konrad had leisure to admire the familiar twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘Never,’ he said stoutly. ‘Or at least, not much.’

  Nanda sat down at the foot of his bed, and purloined half of his blankets. ‘These are still warm,’ she said, wrapping them around herself.

  ‘I have been here a while.’ He did not immediately join her, but stood watching her face. The lamp’s soft glow softened any darkness there, for she looked pale and hale and much her usual self. Too pale, perhaps?

  Nanda chuckled. ‘You’ve been giving me that mother-hen look for months. I don’t suppose it has helped.’

  ‘You don’t really look ill,’ he allowed.

  ‘It isn’t quite a usual sickness.’

  ‘I suppose I’d guessed that.’

  She fell silent, and if she sought for words to begin she did not find them.

  ‘Just tell me, Nan,’ he said at last. ‘It may be difficult, but perhaps I can help.’

  Her expression turned baleful. ‘That is the most annoying thing of all. You might be able to help, otherwise I’d never dream of humbling myself like this.’

  ‘Humbling yourself?’ he repeated blankly. ‘How are you humbled by contracting an illness?’

  ‘If I brought it upon myself, through my own stupidity? My own arrogance? What then?’

  ‘I’d suspect you are being far too hard on yourself—’

  ‘I’m not, Konrad. Everything I just said is the plain truth.’

  ‘And you think I won’t love you anymore, if you’ve been foolish? Done something wrong?’

  She just looked at him, and everything in her face said: Yes, of course I think that.

  He laughed.

  ‘I don’t see what’s funny,’ said she with asperity.

  ‘You say that, while you’re sitting here with me. Konrad Savast, slayer. Serial killer, if you like. And how did I get into this position in the first place? Because I did the mother of all stupid, reckless, terrible things, but you haven’t washed your hands of me yet.’

  Nanda sniffed. ‘It’s those gentry-togs. They dazzle a girl so, I hardly know what I’m thinking.’

  He managed a faint smile, and took a seat next to her, stealing a blanket to ward his feet against the chill. ‘Right, I’m ready,’ he said. ‘Confession time. What wretched things have you done?’

  Nanda said nothing for a moment. The lantern-light shone eerily upon her face, and shadows seemed to leap in her eyes. ‘I’d better show you,’ she decided.

  Konrad had no time to reply, for already something was happening. There were shadows in her eyes; shadows etched in light, like the spiritlands, and those shadows spread to engulf Nanda’s frame. She shone stark-white, like a spirit herself, and Konrad’s heart plummeted and began to race, for she wasn’t dead surely, she couldn’t be—

  He grabbed her hand, and felt a moment’s relief to find it warm and solid in his own. Not dead. Something else.

  A low, grating chuckle sounded, startling him, for it could not possibly have come from Nanda. Following the sound, his eye travelled to the dusty slats beneath his feet, and the lantern there.

  ‘Fae?’ he breathed, wondering, for half-hidden in shadows of its own making stood a twisted little spirit-creature, a goblin in common parlance, or a ghoul, or a wraith; he hardly knew. It twined about Nanda’s feet with some mockery of affection, for its presence was anything but loving. Everywhere it touched her, it stole from her: her vitality, her energy, her life itself. Bit by bit.

  There were more, he saw. If only it had been just the one, Nanda could have borne it; nothing so small could bring Nanda low. But there were more.

  ‘I can hold them at bay when I am awake,’ she said. ‘To a certain extent, anyway. And I can hide them from… well, from everyone, but especially you.’

  ‘Not at night, though,’ Konrad said, realisation dawning. ‘Not when you sleep.’ What nightmares would such contorted creatures bring? How much did they weaken her, night after night? How had she borne it, month after month? A lesser person would have foundered long ago.

  ‘You’re wondering how this happened,’ Nanda said, a faint smile curving her lips even as another grubby fae romped repulsively through her hair. ‘That is the stupid part.’

  ‘You didn’t… Nan, you didn’t treat with these creatures?’

  ‘It was just one at first,’ she said wearily. ‘One pact. My mother needed — more than I could give at the time. It was worth it, and so easily borne that the next time it was… easier, to take on a second.’

  ‘How many do you have now?’

  ‘Five,’ she whispered, with a quiet desperation which cut Konrad to the quick.

  ‘But—’ he said. ‘But why, Nan? What could have been so important that you’d risk so many?’ Pacts with spirit-fae were the province of spirit witches, and many, he knew, held some agreement with one such familiar. The fae lent their peculiar abilities to the witch, in exchange for some small piece of her soul — so went the lore, at any rate. Looking at Nanda, he thought it was not quite accurate. They were taking everything, by slow degrees. What would be left of her, by the time she finally died? Would any of her spirit remain, to pass into The Malykt’s care?

  ‘My mother’s work, for one,’ she said. ‘She uses some part of her Oracle’s powers to avert disasters, when she can, and sometimes she has need of me.’

  ‘Does she know what you’ve been doing to keep it up?’

  ‘She’s an Oracle,’ Nanda said tartly.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Then sometimes there are — customers, I must call them — who come to me seeking remedies. I can heal some of their complaints sometimes, if I am suitably assisted. I’ve saved lives that way. It was worth it, Konrad,’ she said, before he could speak.

  ‘That was all five?’ he said, instead of the objection he’d been planning to utter.

  ‘No. Three was bad enough, and the last two…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It was at Divoro. I cannot ordinarily Read anything from a deceased corpse, not once the spirit has fled. But I can if… with help. And there were other things.’

  Konrad had frequently wished that the expedition to Divoro had never been made at all. He should have been there alone, doing his Malykant’s work as he must, but without endangering either Nanda or Alexander. He wished it again now, so fiercely.

  ‘Mother told me I should not go,’ Nanda said with a wry smile. ‘Why don’t I ever listen to her, Konrad?’

  ‘Who ever listens to parental prohibitions?’ he said.

  ‘Fools certainly don’t.’

  ‘You haven’t been a fool, Nanda.’

  ‘I have. Only a fool overestimates her abilities, imagines herself invincible, refuses to accept the consequences of proceeding down a certain road—’

  ‘Your motives were excellent. Unselfish to a fault.’

  ‘Were they? Yes, I helped some people. But there is always selfishness in that. The satisfaction, of sending an ailing patient away healed. Of averting some catastrophe, half-glimpsed in my mother’s sight. Of helping to avenge Eino, and the others. It made me feel good, too. Like a hero.’ Nanda passed a hand over her eyes, and the crawling creatures around her faded from sight. ‘Pure ego.’

  ‘We could argue all nig
ht about that, but I propose we instead consider the question of how to extricate you from these pacts.’

  ‘If there were a simple way to do so, believe me I’d have done it.’

  ‘So I supposed. Is there a complicated way? A difficult and dangerous way? I like those.’

  ‘I did say you were reckless. You really should not be, on my account. I’ve been reckless enough for the both of us, and allow me therefore to apologise for reproaching you on that topic. It was hypocritical of me.’

  ‘I like feeling like a hero too, Nan.’ So much humility, apology and self-reproach from Nanda was unsettling him. It spoke more eloquently of her deterioration than anything else could. He wanted his proud, self-assured, somewhat righteous Nanda back.

  ‘I refuse to play the damsel while you heroically set forth to rescue me,’ Nanda retorted, which was more like her, and Konrad’s heart eased a little.

  ‘How about we heroically rescue you together?’

  ‘Maybe we could do that.’ Nanda gazed wistfully at him, looking as though she strongly doubted the possibility of their success.

  ‘Can I speak with them?’ Konrad said. ‘Can you bring them back a moment?’

  Nanda shook her head. ‘They aren’t here, precisely. What you saw are their… shades, or some such thing. They attach to me, attend me everywhere. They’re here to collect what’s owed. Those with whom I formed the pacts remain in the spiritlands.’

  ‘They can’t be persuaded to relinquish or break the pact?’

  ‘Pacts are absolute. They only dissolve once the agreed-upon price is paid. And I don’t mind paying it, Konrad; I did agree. But I think that it will kill me.’

  ‘Then we need to… reduce the impact, somehow. Break one or two of them.’

  Nanda shrugged. ‘There is no way to break them, Konrad. None.’

  ‘What if we found some other way to pay the price?’

  One eyebrow went up. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as… such as, me. Give them me.’

  ‘Those were not the agreed terms.’

  ‘Do you think I care?’

  ‘I do,’ said Nanda simply. ‘And they will. And you have enough to deal with, Konrad, without—’

  ‘Without what? Helping you? It won’t kill me.’

  ‘I don’t know of any way to accomplish a— a transfer of debt, like that.’

  ‘We can find one.’ He hadn’t released Nanda’s hand, preferring to keep it safe in his own. He captured her other hand, too, and held both close. ‘Have you any more objections to raise? Let’s get them all out of the way now. And just to save time, the answer to them all is: “so what”.’

  That prompted a smile from her, a real one. ‘No. I suppose I don’t. I… can’t think of another solution.’

  Konrad could. But it was a bloodthirsty, ruthless, Konrad-the-slayer solution and he knew Nanda would never consider it.

  He didn’t have to give her the option, though. Let her put her mind to the question of how to transfer some part of her burden to him. If she succeeded in that, well, excellent; problem solved. Konrad would bear the torment very willingly.

  But if she didn’t…

  Serpents, he said silently. You’ve heard all this?

  Yes, Master, they said, with a hissing disapproval from Eetapi. Filthy sneaks.

  What would you have us do? said Ootapi. We are eager to assissst, Master.

  Willing? You? No objections?

  We are willing, repeated Eetapi.

  You like Nanda, hm?

  No one with any sense can fail to, Master, said Ootapi, which restored much of Konrad’s flagging faith in the serpents’ own sense. If they could be said to have any at all.

  Find them, then. These creatures holding Nanda in thrall. Find who they are, and where they are, and bring this news to me.

  What then, Master?

  Then, Ootapi? We will do what we do best. We will go hunting.

  His snakes twitched with a glee he might once have found repulsive, and he felt a surge of fierce, blood-hungry joy from them both.

  Then they faded away, crossing in the space of a breath into the spiritlands.

  Konrad gently squeezed Nanda’s hands. ‘Shall we go home? Tormented by ghouls you may be, but you don’t have to be cold and hungry while you do it.’

  She smiled faintly, and rose to her feet, drawing Konrad with her. ‘I don’t know why, but I feel better in your house. Perhaps less alone.’

  ‘It’s at your service,’ he promised. ‘Every inch of it, for as long as you need. And so am I.’

  Nanda looked him over, that beloved spark of mischief lighting her eye. ‘Every inch of you?’

  Konrad blinked, and failed to come up with a ready answer. Yes hardly seemed appropriate, but no would be falsehood—

  Nanda’s laugh echoed off the bare walls of his frigid hut, and she bent to haul open the trapdoor once more. ‘Maybe we can discuss it,’ she said, disappearing down the ladder. ‘Somewhere warmer.’

  Konrad collected the abandoned lantern and swung down the ladder in her wake.

  The Malefic Curse

  Chapter One

  A knock came at the door of Bakar House.

  Konrad, ensconced in the best parlour with Nanda, did not move so much as a muscle. He had a butler for a reason. Hopefully the caller would prove inconsequential, and easily fobbed off; Gorev was good at that kind of thing. At three in the afternoon on so foul a day, sleet driving down from the skies in great torrents, and the streets awash with the half-melted snows of early spring, he rather wondered that anybody had troubled to travel to his door at all.

  ‘It seems our reverie is at an end,’ said Nanda. Resonant footsteps were indeed approaching the parlour; Konrad heard them as clearly as she, though he toyed briefly with denial.

  ‘Come in,’ he sighed, when his butler’s discreet tap sounded at the half-closed door.

  Gorev entered, and bowed with an apologetic air. ‘It’s the inspector, sir. He’s—’

  Konrad sat up. ‘What? Well, let him come in! He need not stand on ceremony.’

  Gorev cleared his throat. ‘I meant to say, sir, that the inspector has sent someone. A policeman. Shall I say that you are at home?’

  ‘Is it Karyavin?’

  ‘That was the name given, yes.’

  ‘Send him in, quickly.’ If the inspector had sent a human being rather than a note, then the matter was of some urgency. If he had not come himself, doubly so.

  Gorev withdrew, and a moment later Karyavin came in. A young man, he was high in the inspector’s good graces, a consequence of his quick wits, level head and obliging nature. Konrad rather liked the man himself. He was everything Konrad might have liked to have been in his own youth. ‘Sir,’ said Karyavin, with a bow for Konrad and a smile for Nanda. ‘There’s been an, ah, incident…’ Karyavin’s eyes wandered about the parlour for a moment, dwelling on the majestic carved fireplace with its enormous mirror, and travelling to the silk-upholstered couch and armchairs. He had not, perhaps, expected to find Konrad surrounded by such extravagant splendour.

  ‘Nuritov sent you?’ Konrad prompted.

  ‘Yes, sir. He’s down by the river. He asked that you come as soon as possible. And,’ the young man added, his gaze turning on Nanda, ‘Miss Falenia as well, if you’re at leisure, ma’am.’

  Nanda, slouching in her chair in a half-doze, blinked and awoke. ‘Me? He asked specifically for me?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. The incident is of an unusual nature, and he thought perhaps your unique abilities might be of use.’

  Nanda exchanged a look of mild disquiet with Konrad. ‘Just what is the nature of this incident?’

  ‘There’s been a death.’

  That got Konrad’s attention. A death? Murder? No. Were it murder, surely he’d have heard by now. The serpents were vigilant about that kind of thing. But if it were a natural death, or some accident, why summon Konrad?

  Serpents? Konrad called. Have there been any murders in the city tod
ay? The kind that I ought to know about?

  No, Master, they chorused.

  Yesterday? Last night?

  No, Master.

  Konrad, at a loss, asked no further questions. He set aside the book he’d been pretending to read, and rose. ‘Give me a moment to change, Karyavin, and we will be with you.’

  ‘I’ll await you in the porch, sir.’ Karyavin, discomfited perhaps by the grandeur, made his bow and withdrew.

  ‘Curious,’ said Nanda.

  ‘Before you ask, no, the serpents are aware of no murders.’

  ‘Can they be wrong?’

  ‘I haven’t known them to be.’

  ‘Right.’ Nanda hauled herself out of her chair, causing Konrad a moment’s concern in the evident effort it cost her to do so. Last night had been especially difficult for her, he judged; not from anything she had said, but from her pallor when she had arrived at the breakfast-table, and the air of heaviness and lethargy she’d displayed all day. Her unwelcome entourage had subjected her to a special depth of torment, he supposed. Nightmares of the very direst.

  He had his serpents scouring the spiritlands at every opportunity, seeking out the wretched fae with claims upon Nanda. When they found them, his displeasure would be… violently expressed. The errand had distracted them, possibly, from their regular duties, for the spiritlands were wide and complex, and the search occupied a great deal of their energy and time. He may arrive at the river to find that the case was one of murder after all.

  But still, the serpents were not given to mistakes. Their purpose was a simple one, and they performed that duty with enthusiasm.

  Why, though, was Nanda also summoned? That was the most intriguing part of the business.

  To his own surprise, he felt his disinclination to leave the house — and to engage with another horrific murder case — lifting a little in the anticipation of an interesting problem. The worst part of Assevan winters, arguably, was the utter boredom of it all.

  Half an hour later, Konrad ducked under the dripping frame of Parel’s Bridge, and inched his way underneath. The river’s waters were on the rise, swollen with melting snow and sleet. A strip of sodden earth only a few feet wide served as the bank, upon which Konrad found the inspector.