by Peter David
“That bitch!” breathed Astel. “I knew there was something about her! She was one of yours, wasn’t she!”
I smiled enigmatically. Naturally I hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about or who the “bitch” she was referring to was, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was driving a stake of pure paranoia through her wretched little heart.
“Or was it …” She suddenly looked more suspicious. ” … or was it … somebody else? How far does your influence go? Tell me that, at least. The way you showed up here, now … it’s almost … supernatural …”
Ahhh … apparently our little Astel carried a bit of the superstitious within her. My smiled widened as I said softly, “Let us just say that in addition to mortal allies, I have friends in … high places.” My gaze flickered heavenward and then I added, “I assume you’ve heard of … Hecate.”
I thought her legs were going to give out. Thank you, Entipy.
“So you know everything then,” she whispered. “That I used the money I took from you …”
“And that you stole from my mother’s mattress. Her earnings, too.” It was a guess, but it seemed a reasonable one.
She nodded, unknowingly confirming that which I had only intuited. “I made a few investments, and used it to acquire finery, trappings … all the outward appearances of a great lady. That I created the identity of the countess because I knew no nobleman would have interest in a commoner. And came here to Shank’s court, seeking a noble husband, and caught the fancy of the warlord himself … aided initially by purchased charms. Told him I had vast estate holdings in the west …”
“And that you’re planning to tell him that there’s been an unexpected fire and everything is burned down, lost … but since you’ll be married by that point, obviously he won’t throw you out because of it.” That last, naturally, was pure guess on my part, but I figured it was worth the gamble in order to cement, in her mind, the belief that I knew everything that she was about.
It worked perfectly, because her eyes widened and she nodded, unwittingly affirming what had only been surmise on my part. “And you could have stepped in at any time,” she said with mounting incredulity. “But you let me put the whole charade together … create the countess identity for myself … let me get right to the cusp of pulling this off … and now, now, is when you step in. Ohhhh, I’ll admit it, Apropos,” and she shook her head in wonderment, “you have a spider’s patience. You are fiendish beyond imagining.”
“I have my moments,” I allowed.
Her eyes narrowed, something glittering in there as if she was trying to determine how to snatch triumph from tragedy. “But you’ve left yourself vulnerable. It’s just you and I. Why … I could suddenly shout for help right now and summon half a dozen guards. Tell my beloved fiancé that you tried to molest me.” She smiled, showing her teeth, which looked far whiter than I’d remembered them. “He’d lop off your head himself, right in the middle of the court. And you would tell him … what? That I’m a fake? Who do you think he’d believe? You? Or me?”
But my thoughts were already ahead of hers. “He would believe you,” and before she started to speak, I continued, “right up until I tell him about the tattoo of a butterfly you have on your inner thigh.”
She blanched at that, but then tried to rally. “I … can tear at my skirt right now. Obviously you saw it when you … tried to ravish me …”
“Really?” I said coolly. “Odd. Most women, when they’re ravished, don’t make noises like a hoot owl when achieving passionate climax. Nor are they noted for crying out, ‘Ride me, stallion! Ride me, you stallion you!’ The warlord has already made clear in his blustering way that he had his pleasure with you, so he’d be familiar with your habits. Did you do with him what you did with me? Will I be sealing my fate, or will I be lending credence to my version of things? It is possible that he will indeed have me executed for my publicly making a fool of him … but if he does, my dear, I strongly suspect that your head will be rolling right on the floor alongside mine.”
She swayed slightly, and for a moment I thought she was going to pass out dead away. She leaned against the wall to steady herself, took several deep breaths, and unconsciously put a hand to her throat as if she could feel a blade slicing viciously through it. I knew I had her then. She fixed a level gaze on me and said the four words I had been waiting to hear: “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” I said thoughtfully.
“You obviously want something. You didn’t go to all this endeavor so that we could chat about old times and then you depart empty-handed. What do you want?”
“Very well,” and my voice hardened. There was such barely controlled rage in it that I almost surprised myself. “I want my naïveté back. I want back the ability to lose myself totally in a woman’s passion without always wondering if and when she’s about to slip a knife between my ribs. I want to be able to think that when a woman opens her legs to me she’s also opening her heart, instead of just finding a way to use me until it suits her fancy to take advantage of me or betray me. I want to have a last memory of my mother as something other than a large pile of ashes covering my face and being washed away by the rain, along with the last fragments of my ability to trust. I want to be able to think back to my first sexual experience without the words ‘What an idiot I was’ resounding in my head. Can you do that for me, Astel? Can you give me that?”
She looked down. She couldn’t stand to look me in the eyes. “No,” she said, so softly I could barely hear her.
“Then riches will have to do instead,” I told her.
“I’ll get together whatever money I can …”
“Some coinage will be fine for the local area, but that won’t be enough,” I said flatly. “Sovs and dukes in this realm have the warlord’s face on them. They’ll be useless to me anywhere outside of the Outer Lawless regions, and I do not plan on overstaying my welcome.”
“Well, it’s too late for that,” she snapped … but not, I noticed, too aggressively.
“Gold,” I said flatly. “And silver. And jewels. As much as I can carry out of here without being noticed.”
“And how often will you be making such visits to me, eh?” she asked. “How often will you be making return engagements, seeking more from me?”
“Believe it or not, Astel, if I never see you again, it will be too soon,” I told her. “The very sight of you stirs such fury in my heart that I can barely contain myself. I’d sooner muck out stables with my tongue than have further intercourse—social or sexual—with you.”
She looked skeptical, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was getting off that easily. “All this time you’ve been watching me, scheming … and this one confrontation is enough to sate you?”
“I am interested in dealing purely with your monetary theivery, Astel. With evening the scales on that score. Everything else you took from me cannot be replaced, ever, so I won’t even try. And more than anything else, I want you to know that, all this time—even now—I could have brought you down, so that it will help to diminish whatever sense of accomplishment you may have. You’ll always know that you got as far as you did … because I allowed it. That’s sufficient vengeance for me, Astel, and I’m interested purely in revenge … not overkill. Now … let us see how fares your generosity.”
“Generosity under threat of exposure is hardly genuine.”
“Nor is lovemaking under the pretext of thievery. But if I can survive the experience, I daresay you can, too.”
Her jaw twitched, but she said nothing. Instead she turned and started walking. I followed directly behind her, my staff clicking on the ground.
“I have thought of you, from time to time, you know,” she said softly. “Believe it or not, Apropos … I was not evil. Just desperate.”
“How kind of you to clarify that.” I was not impressed.
“I mean to say … I never meant you any ill. And … it didn’t happen as you believe.”
/> “Indeed.”
“When you and I … when we … that was sincere. Spontaneous. I had no plans beyond that. It was only when I saw all the money there, and I … I gave in to a weak impulse. I am a weak woman, Apropos.”
“I see. You’re not evil. Just desperate and weak … much like the story you’re spinning for me now. A desperate and weak one.”
“But true nonetheless.”
“Astel,” I said tersely, “I don’t think you know what the truth is anymore.”
“And you think you do?”
“No. I just don’t care what it is.”
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
Entipy, standing behind the table, looked at me with open curiosity as I hustled toward her. “We’ve leaving,” I said as soon as I got within whispering range.
“But the party is still going. We won’t be paid our—”
“Devil take the sovs. We’re going. Now.”
I realized that her eyes were wandering toward the front of my breeches. I looked down and saw what she was looking at. There was a bulge there, more noticeable than I would have liked. She looked up at me, her face a question.
“Jewels,” I said in a low voice.
“Family?”
“No. Real.” I glanced around, made sure no one else was watching, and then shifted them around so that the “package” was less obvious.
Then she comprehended, and with conspiratorial shock she whispered, “You stole them?”
“No. Extorted. Let’s go.”
She didn’t understand, but she didn’t have to. The party was still going in full swing and as a result our hurried departure drew no attention. I was walking as carefully as I could, trying not to jingle or send anything else out of position, considering I had jewelry and money secreted all over my person, and in the hidden compartment of my staff.
The sounds of the party receded into the distance as we made our way toward the servants’ exit. Down a curling flight of stairs that seemed to take forever to navigate, down, and then toward the door that would put us out into the night and freedom. It was at the end of a long hallway that felt as if it was a hundred leagues away. I had never felt so frustrated over my lame right leg as I did at that moment, since I was in such a hurry to just put as much distance between us and the castle as possible. To hurry out of there before someone could shout …
“You!”
I recognized the voice instantly as the steward, summoning us from behind. We were ten feet from the door, from freedom, and before I could turn I heard the steward continue, “There he is, milord! Apparently he’s trying to sneak out.”
“Servant!” came a gravelly voice, and I knew at that moment that we were dead, because it was Shank’s voice. Entipy sucked in her breath sharply; she likewise knew that matters had taken a decided turn for the worse. I had been trying to reposition the bag of jewels that were among the riches the unwilling Astel had provided for me; they’d been slipping again in our hasty departure. But it didn’t seem to matter now. I gripped my staff with both hands because I felt as if I was going to faint.
Close in my ear, Entipy whispered, “Should we run for it?”
“Why bother?” I returned. True, there was a remote chance we would make it out the door. But it wasn’t as if there was an invisible barrier that would prevent Shank from following us the additional three or four feet we might manage to put between ourselves and the castle. Better to surrender now with what little dignity remained to us … especially considering that any claims to dignity I might have had would soon be lost in screams of agony as Shank did … well, whatever he was going to do.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” demanded Shank.
Slowly I turned to face him. Even at this moment of utter doom, I couldn’t help but try to stammer out a lie. “Milord, I … my … partner here,” and I indicated Entipy, “has need of a … uhm …”
Shank looked below my waist and grinned, and then laughed. “Hah!” he said. “I see what she has need of … and you appear only too eager to provide it. Go and argue with the lusts of youth, eh, steward?” And he clapped the steward on the back. The steward staggered slightly, but righted himself and nodded gamely. Then the dreaded Warlord Shank turned back to me and reached into the folds of his tunic. For a moment I was certain that this was it—that he had finished with games and was about to pull out a dagger and simply slice my throat. Instead he pulled out a glittering coin: a duke. “I realize I am remiss in not having given you a gratuity for aiding my wife. Here.” And he flipped it to me. I caught it and stared at the coin, astounded, resting in my open palm. The face of the warlord scowled back at me from the coin’s surface. “They are newly minted,” he said. “You are one of the first to have one. See the reverse.” I obediently turned the coin over. Astel’s face smiled back at me.
“Once upon a time,” he growled, “I would not have cared about such niceties. But if I am to husband a countess, one must observe certain social … traditions.”
“As you say, milord.” I could barely keep the astonishment from my voice.
“Steward? Have they been paid for this evening?”
“N-no, milord, but it is not customary to pay those who have not worked the full evening …”
Without a word the warlord yanked his sword from his scabbard and lopped the steward’s head off. It rolled across the floor and bumped to a halt against the wall before the body had time to realize it was headless and flop, obediently, to the ground. Entipy and I stood rooted to our places.
“I despise excuses,” said Shank. He pulled out a second duke and tossed that to me as well. “This will attend to it, I take it?”
“More than, milord.”
“Smile, young ones!” bellowed Shank, and I realized at that point that he was more than a little inebriated. “Smile on an evening of rejoicing! And know that you have been honored by providing service to the future wife of the dreaded Warlord Shank.”
“Milord,” I said extravagantly, “believe me when I say … that I took no greater joy in this life than when I was servicing your bride-to-be.”
And we got the hell out of there.
Chapter 20
Considering the circumstances under which we’d come there, I was surprised to realize that Marie was actually sad to see us go.
I was somewhat concerned over the fact that—even though the calendar indicated that the fierce Outer Lawless winter should be subsiding—it still seemed unseasonably cold and nasty. Nevertheless, the roads were merely inhospitable rather than impassable, and my every instinct was telling me that now was the time to get on our way. As successful as I had been in obtaining an impressive bounty from Astel, I did not want to count on the notion that I was impervious to retribution. On the one hand, she might not want to take any chances mucking with me, since she had no idea how deep into her inner circles my “agents” ran, or even whether I was indeed backed up by the gods themselves. On the other hand, she might sooner or later get up enough nerve to hire someone privately to dispatch me. Make it look like an accident or some such. It all depended upon how comfortable she was with the fact that I was wandering around with full knowledge of who and what she was.
So it seemed incumbent upon me that we vacate the area sooner rather than later.
Naturally I didn’t trust anyone in the area, but of all the people I didn’t trust, the burly Marie was the one that I didn’t trust the least. I felt it would be better to have someone act as an intermediary if at all possible, and so I prevailed upon her to arrange for the purchase of two Heffers for us. Heffers were fairly useless for traveling off the beaten path, but it was my intention to try and stay with the roads, and there they would do just fine. It was a calculated risk, of course. Staying to the main roads might make us prey for highwaymen. But endeavoring to penetrate the woods would make us prey for all manner of predators, and—all things considered—I’d rather take my chances with human thieves.
Marie openly sco
ffed at the notion of purchasing two Heffers outright until I presented her with enough funds not only to obtain the animals, but also to leave something for herself to cover her efforts. When she demanded to know how such riches had fallen into our hands, I simply smiled enigmatically and said, “The Warlord and his bride-to-be were most pleased with our efforts.” She seemed interested in inquiring further, but decided to let the matter drop.
So it was that, early one morning, with no clouds in the sky, the sun creeping up in the east, and a sharp nip in the air, we set out on the main road that would lead us to the commweaver known as Dotty.
“Wait,” I said. “How will we know Dotty’s home when we get there?”
“Oh, believe me,” she laughed, “you’ll know it a’right. It’s a bit … unusual-looking.” She wouldn’t say anything beyond that, though.
Marie saw us off, and as we prepared to ride away, her gaze took us both in as she said, “I know for a time there I was hard on ye. But I think you’re both the better for it … especially you,” and she pointed her stubbly chin toward Entipy. Entipy shrugged slightly, which for her passed as conversation. “You make a good couple,” she added.
“Do we?” I inquired, inwardly amused.
“I see it in the way ye look at each other. Anticipate each other’s thoughts and words. A good couple and a good team. Good luck to the both of ye.”
Then she drew her wrap more tightly around herself, turned, and headed back into the inn. Entipy and I looked at each other … and laughed.
It was the first time we’d actually shared such a thing, a laugh. It felt … surprisingly natural.
We headed off down the road, keeping the Heffers at a brisk trot. We didn’t exchange any words, but somehow the ensuing silence felt different from such previous instances. It was not an uncomfortable or angry silence such as we had known before, but instead a comfortable one. As if we had become so at ease in each other’s company that there was no need to try and fill the void with useless verbiage.
