Cursebreaker

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Cursebreaker Page 14

by Carol A Park


  A banging on their door woke Vaughn with a start.

  Ivana sat up in her bed, and Vaughn stumbled to his feet, bleary-eyed. “Hold on!” he snapped, pulling his shirt on.

  He opened the door to find the innkeeper standing there in his nightclothes, holding a lantern. He bowed nervously. “Ah, pardon the interruption, Dal—”

  Vaughn squinted against the sudden light. “Pardon the interruption?” he growled. “It’s the gods-cursed middle of the night!”

  The innkeeper fumbled for words. “I, ah…”

  “Oh, for Yathyn’s sake, man,” a voice said from behind him, and then another taller man pushed passed him. The innkeeper himself scurried away, as if relieved to have discharged this duty. “Dal, I’m going to ask you to come with us,” the tall man said.

  Vaughn’s instincts went on high alert. He backed away, hoping Ivana had some trick up her sleeve. “I’m sorry…why? What seems to be the problem?” He scanned this second man; he wasn’t wearing a Watch uniform, so whatever this was, it couldn’t be official…at least not Watch official.

  The man pasted a smile on his face, but his jaw jumped. “No problem, no problem. We just need to ask some questions.”

  Vaughn caught a glimpse of the hilt of a sword underneath the man’s cloak.

  Questions be damned. This man could be a Hunter or he could be some other ruffian up to no good. Either way, this meant trouble, and they were cornered.

  He bumped into the wall and felt a breeze waft across the back of his neck.

  The man looked at the window, which Vaughn suspected was now open behind him. In fact, he suspected that it had been opened before he had even reached the door. With the entire room now in view, he noted that their bags and both pairs of their boots were gone—along with Ivana.

  “The innkeeper said there was a woman with you. Where is she?” the man asked, continuing to eye the window.

  Vaughn shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who knows? I don’t keep track of the whores I hire. She got paid. Must have left.”

  The story blatantly contradicted what they had told the innkeeper upon arrival, but there was a chance this second man didn’t know that.

  Indeed, he narrowed his eyes at Vaughn and jerked his head in dismissal. “Doesn’t matter. It’s you I need. Please come with me, Dal, and let’s not make trouble.”

  Vaughn flicked his eyes toward the washbasin, burned aether from his blood, and drew the water out of the pitcher in a silent trickle to gather it in a hovering blob above the man’s head. “Yeah,” he said to the man. “I think I’m going to decline on both points.”

  And then he simultaneously let go of the aether controlling the water and burned more aether to turn himself invisible.

  The entire contents of a pitcher of water splashed down onto the man’s head. He shouted, spluttered, and drew his hidden blade. He charged Vaughn—

  But it was too late. Vaughn had already heaved himself out of the window.

  Someone brushed against his arm once he was all the way through, and he recoiled, but Ivana’s voice came out of the darkness.

  “It’s me,” she hissed. A bag and a pair of boots fell to the ground out of thin air. “Grab your things and run.”

  He didn’t hesitate—didn’t even stop to put on his boots. He just yanked on his pack, grabbed his boots, and, still invisible, sprinted down the road.

  A man’s scream pierced the air behind him, but he didn’t stop. He ran until he had left the last of the town buildings behind, and then some—and then he dove into a ditch. He sat there for a moment, panting, and then poked his head over the side of the ditch. No sign of pursuit. Now he just had to find Ivana.

  He closed his eyes and strained his ears, listening for anything—the scuff of a boot on the hard-packed dirt road, heavy breathing—

  “You might as well put your boots on now,” a voice said in his ear.

  He bit his tongue to keep from yelping in surprise. Ivana appeared next to him. He also let go of his invisibility.

  “What in the abyss was that?” he whispered.

  She frowned, looking back toward the town. “Too coincidental, that’s what.” She watched Vaughn as he pulled his boots on and waited until he had laced them up to drop her casual suggestion. “And I think we should avoid inns for the time being.”

  Vaughn groaned and threw himself onto his back in the ditch. “I’m never going to sleep again, am I?” They’d finally come back into semi-civilized lands and he still couldn’t sleep in a real bed each night?

  The flat terraces of Fereharian farmland stretched out behind them and on the other side of the road. The hilly terrain and rocky soil made farming many crops a struggle in this part of Ferehar, but as they drew closer to the river that ran from the Fereharian mountains to the sea, easier irrigation meant more arable land—and even more settlements.

  As long as they stayed on the road that paralleled the mountains and ran straight through Cohoxta, they ought to find a place to stay indoors each night, even were it only a villager’s barn. And indoors would be preferable—because the main road from northern Ferehar to the capital was replete with rocky hills and cliffs on the eastern side that could easily shelter bloodbane.

  “Who was it who wanted to take this trip so badly?” Ivana pointed out.

  Vaughn threw a hand over his eyes. He hadn’t. Not originally.

  “We can shelter near villages for safety,” Ivana said. “The last thing I want to do is avoid people only to be set upon by bloodbane. I’m not against sneaking into someone’s barn. But we should stay out of sight. We don’t know if that man, whatever he wanted with you, will continue looking for you.”

  Well, there was that. But it meant no hot meals, hot baths, soft beds…

  He sighed. There was no use arguing. She was probably right. She usually was. “When we get to your town,” he said, “we’ll have to find somewhere to use as a base. I do have to do something for Yaotel while I’m here.”

  “We can stay in the inn when we get there.”

  Thank the gods. “So you didn’t kill him?” he asked bluntly.

  Her forehead wrinkled. “What? Why in the abyss would you think I killed him?”

  “I mean, besides the obvious?”

  She scowled at him. “A murder in a tiny town like that would have attracted far more attention than our escape.”

  “I heard a scream.”

  “I slammed the window on his fingers,” she said.

  “Oh. Well. That’d do it.”

  “We need to move. Our best defense now is getting as far away from here as quickly as possible.”

  “That I can agree with.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  History in the Making

  It was a beautiful spring night—not too hot yet, but past the time when the nights were still chilly. Perfect for a leisurely walk with Driskell’s soon-to-be fiancé.

  He was having a hard time enjoying it.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” Tania said, nudging him in the ribs.

  He looked over at her. Burning skies, how he wished he could tell her everything that had transpired the past couple of weeks. He wanted her opinion on it all. But he couldn’t. Not a peep. Even more so than usual. “It’s just been a hectic couple of days,” he said.

  She slid her hand into his. “I know. I’ve hardly seen you.”

  He squeezed her hand and then let go. “Not here,” he admonished.

  She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Driskell, I swear on Temoth herself. No one believes our relationship is strictly platonic.”

  “It isn’t proper until we’re officially betrothed,” he insisted.

  “Speaking of which…”

  “I just want everything to be perfect.” Of course, it wouldn’t truly be a surprise. They’d been talking about marriage ever since Driskell had taken the position with the Ri. They’d been teasing at it even longer.

  She stopped and turned to face him, laying slender fingers against his cheek. �
��And I just want to be with you.”

  “It won’t be long,” he said. And it wouldn’t be. He’d already received her parents’ blessing. His own parents heartily endorsed the union. He’d been arranging it for months, and he wouldn’t be hurried along. Not even by those soft fawn brown eyes staring up at him now, or the lower lip protruding slightly—playfully.

  He tapped her nose. “I promise.”

  She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You have it all planned out on a chart, don’t you?”

  He coughed. “What? That’s ridiculous.” He did.

  She grinned, as if she knew he was lying. “Come on. My mother will be wondering what’s keeping us.”

  Tania’s father, Lasryn, greeted Driskell with a warm clasp of the arms, and her mother, Kiva, ushered them into the kitchen with her usual warm hospitality.

  “Dinner smells delicious, Da,” Driskell said to Kiva. “Divine, even.”

  She flicked a towel at him but seemed pleased all the same, modestly smoothing a few stray hairs back into her slicked down, short-coifed hair. “Flattery will get you nothing but help with clean-up.”

  Driskell smiled. He always helped clean up.

  And he always enjoyed dinner with Tania’s family. He had met her when his parents had sent him to High Mount Academy—the prestigious boarding school in Marakyn—for further education at age sixteen. She, too, had attended classes at the school, except that her family lived in Marakyn, so she didn’t technically “board” there.

  The first day of a shared astronomy class, their teacher had engaged the students in a verbal contest to test their prior knowledge of the subject. Driskell and Tania had been the last two students standing. As the questions had become more difficult, Tania had seemed to take great delight in not only answering the questions correctly, but in answering them in words laced with double-entendre. Though Driskell had ultimately won the teacher’s contest, he’d felt he had lost whatever secondary contest Tania had started between just the two of them—he stammering over his answers near the end, his cheeks hot, and she looking at him under lowered eyelashes, obviously more and more amused.

  Far from offended, he had been instantly smitten by her combined intelligence, wit, and charm. The next day, she’d discovered he was far from home and invited him over to her house for dinner. He’d quickly became part of their family; he now saw them more than he saw his own.

  So he settled easily down at the dinner table, surrounded by not only her father and mother, but her two younger sisters and one younger brother, her widowed great-grandmother, and tonight, an uncle, an aunt, and three cousins.

  It was noisy, delicious, and a welcome distraction from the burden of silence he was carrying.

  At least, it was a distraction until the younger children finished dinner and scampered off to find other amusement under the watchful eye of Grandma Aya, at which point Tania’s Uncle Dayon tossed down his napkin, leaned back in his chair with a groan, patted his protruding stomach, and declared, “I saw that Xambrian down on the fifth tier today.”

  Driskell’s heart sank. Uh-oh.

  “Funny-looking man,” Dayon added.

  Xambrian, Driskell thought.

  Lasryn nodded. “Can’t believe they let him on the temple tier. I’m sure the priests were thrilled.”

  “There were some dark looks, I’ll give you that—and not just from the priests,” Dayon said. “The Xambrian gave ’em right back.”

  “Mezzo,” Driskell said, and then flushed as they turned to look at him. “Uh…his name is Mezzo. Ambassador Mezzo.”

  Dayon stroked his goatee and eyed Driskell. “That’s right. You must have a good bit of interaction with him.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say a good bit…” Driskell stammered.

  “What were they thinking, letting him come here?” Dayon asked. “You must have some insight. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

  Why in the abyss had Driskell drawn attention to himself?

  “Uncle,” Tania chided. “You know Driskell can’t talk much about his work. He’s in a position of confidence.”

  “He’s practically family, Tania,” her Aunt Telmi said, winking at Driskell. “Surely, he can share something.”

  Tania gave him an apologetic look, and he shook his head.

  This wasn’t unusual. The information he had was just unusually sensitive. He was afraid to say anything lest he say more than he ought. “The position of Ambassador for Xambria is still on the books,” he said to Dayon. “It’s only been recently that we haven’t had one.”

  Dayon grunted. “Recently. Been as long as I can remember, and good riddance.” He raised a finger. “And don’t mistake me: It’s not that I care what those idiot priests at the temple think about it. It’s that it just isn’t right. We’re Donian, not Xambrian.” He pounded the table. “I always thought our Ri seemed a reasonable man, but it seems he’s taken leave of his senses. What next, an alliance with demonspawn?”

  Driskell narrowly saved himself from choking on his wine.

  “I will say,” Telmi said, “given the negative reaction of the temple here, I’m a bit concerned about how Weylyn City might respond. I hope having this ambassador doesn’t cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

  And then everyone turned to look at Driskell. Tania’s mother, father, uncle, aunt—the only one who wasn’t watching for some reaction was Tania, who was biting her lip, no doubt feeling sorry for Driskell being put on the spot like this.

  “I have full confidence in the Ri’s ability to navigate this situation,” Driskell said.

  “Ha ha!” Dayon slapped Driskell’s back so hard his spectacles slipped down his nose a bit. “That’s a line if ever I heard one.”

  Kiva frowned at her brother. “Dayon, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Driskell, would you help me clear the table?”

  “Of course, Da,” Driskell said, flashing her a grateful smile and re-adjusting his spectacles.

  As he left the dining room with an armful of plates, Driskell heard Lasryn say, “Leave the lad alone, Dayon. It can’t be easy for him navigating this disaster, either.”

  “I’m sorry, dear,” Kiva said to Driskell once the two of them were out of the room. She took the plates from Driskell and placed them in the sink, already full of water. “I know Dayon put you in a difficult spot. I’ll have a talk with him.”

  “It’s all right,” Driskell said. “I know everyone’s eager to know what’s going on.”

  Kiva glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Not mere curiosity, dear. They’re frightened, too. There’s been so much change in Setana lately, and now this…” She shook her head. “It all seems too much, too quickly.” She hesitated, glanced back out into the dining room, and then lowered her voice. “And there’ve been rumors, Driskell. There was an opinion piece in the newssheet just this morning saying we ought to leave the Empire!”

  “I saw it,” he said. “But forgive me, Da, that’s hardly a new or even uncommon opinion.”

  Her voice lowered again, so Driskell had to lean closer to hear her. “I hate Setana as much as the next person, Driskell. And talk like that is all fine when it’s a bunch of grumpy old men shouting into the wind. But now…” A cup slipped out of her soapy hand and into the water. “I fear it may be more than talk. And that makes me afraid for all of us.”

  Driskell was spared from having to respond by a knock on the front door.

  “Would you get that, dear?” Kiva asked.

  Driskell put down the bowl he was drying and opened the door.

  Standing there was a young man Driskell didn’t recognize. He was tall, lanky, and had the warm beige skin of someone from one of the central Setanan regions.

  The man inclined his head and then shifted from foot to foot. “I’m looking for a Dal Driskell? I was told if he wasn’t in his room he might be here.” He craned his neck to look at the outside of the rowhouse. “Assuming here is the right place.”

  “I’m Driskell,” Driskell s
aid, startled. “What can I do for you?”

  “I, um, I’m really sorry about this.” He brushed hair out of his eyes and then spoke as if he were reciting something he had memorized. “Lady Nahua sends her deepest apologies for calling on you during your off-duty hours, but she needs you urgently back up at the government tier.”

  Driskell eyed the man. “And you are?”

  “Oh!” He rummaged around in his pocket, drew out Tanuac’s seal, and handed it to Driskell. “Danton. They sent me because, well…” He gave a grimace. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  Danton. Danton. Driskell stared at him. Danton? The Danton Yaotel had contacted through that…device?

  Another Banebringer. Yet he seemed so…normal.

  Driskell swallowed and pocketed the seal. “All right. Hold on.”

  He ducked back inside and gave his apologies to Tania and her family, and then he went silently with the Banebringer named Danton.

  Seven heads swiveled toward Driskell and Danton when they entered the conference room—a place Driskell was beginning to dread having to enter. It seemed every time he was here lately, something else dire or dangerous was happening.

  Given the state of the occupants of the room, tonight seemed no different.

  Yaotel sat alone on the one side of the table. Three of the four Gan were seated on the other side of the table as though it were some sort of inquisition. Ri Tanuac sat at his customary spot at the head, and Nahua sat next to him closer to Yaotel.

  Ri Tanuac sat unmoving, his fingers folded on the table, his face perfectly schooled, and Nahua acknowledged Driskell with a brief nod before returning her attention to the table.

  The fourth Gan, Gan Dillion, stood behind the chairs, as close to the wall as he could get. His arms were folded across his chest and his expression stormy. After glancing at Driskell and Danton, his eyes went back to Yaotel—pinning him with an almost murderous gaze.

  Driskell certainly hoped murder wasn’t on his mind. Especially of a Banebringer.

  Driskell’s stomach squirmed, though their attention wasn’t on him. Tanuac had had a closed meeting with the four Gan the day before; he hadn’t known there would be another tonight.

 

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