Blood of Jackals

by Todd Marcelas Moreno

  “Then what is it that you want from me?”

  “It depends on what you want from us. The Church once would have given its full support to Legan’s rightful ruler. Your father changed that, my Lord.”

  “Yes, well I am not my father.”

  “And so we gave you sanctuary, my Lord, and while you are under our protection, we will defend you to the last. But before we commit to more, we must ask: As a son is so often an extension of his father, how much like your father are you, my Lord?”

  Derrick said nothing, refusing to be drawn in. Steuben grunted.

  “Do you mean that you might not support Lord Derrick’s claim to the throne?” he asked.

  “We recognize Lord Derrick as Legan’s rightful ruler still, Colonel Steuben.”

  “Then is this about my father’s plans for House Possór to enter into a marital alliance with the NDB House Tehasing?” Derrick asked.

  “No, my Lord. It is about your plans.”

  “House Possór needs money to secure itself, Patér Rector. Can the Holy Church secure the same level of financing that my marriage is expected to bring?”

  “No, my Lord. Your father set your sale at a premium, knowing what the NDB Church would pay for another ruling house on its scorecard.”

  “Then the issue is resolved,” Derrick said. “If you are unwilling to bargain...”

  “If you are seriously willing to sell your house’s future to the NDB, there is little point in us... making a bid. The NDB Church will only offer more. They have the resources, and are willing to commit them.”

  “This is a financial deal, Patér Rector,” Derrick said tersely. “And I will not be made to feel guilty over it. My father—”

  “Your father arranged your marriage to spite us,” Patér Rector snapped. Steuben stepped closer. “Negotiations with House Tehasing began before your father was even indicted. This shift in allegiance was not for need of money.”

  “My father had no love for the NDB,” proclaimed Derrick.

  “Perhaps, but now House Possór needs financial assistance. Your bargaining position with the NDB Church has changed considerably.”

  “What would you have me do?” Derrick asked, expelling his breath in a rush. “House Possór needs help structuring its debt and paying its fines from the trial, and you have said that the Holy Church cannot help me.”

  “I never said that, my Lord.”

  Derrick looked at the Patér Rector.

  “But you can improve House Possór’s bargaining position,” said Steuben.

  The Patér Rector smiled. “The financial terms can be discussed later, my Lord. I know that you must be tired from your long journey.”

  Derrick nodded.

  “My Lord,” said the man who had brought them inside. “If you would follow me, I will show you and Colonel Steuben to your rooms.”

  - - -

  “What did you say, Master?” Ansel asked.

  Ashincor came awake with a start. He was in his bed at the inn they had chosen near Crucidel. Ansel sat next to him, alongside another man he did not recognize. “What?” he asked.

  “You said something, Master. I could not make it out.”

  Ashincor looked at the stranger before answering. “How long...?”

  “You have been unconscious for five days, Master,” Ansel replied. “I was worried. I did not know if they had done something to you—”

  “You knew I was alive though,” Ashincor said sternly, still clearing his head.

  “Yes, Master. But you took so long to come out of the trance—”

  “He contacted the Patér Rector,” said the stranger, “who sent me. I am Patér Dolfini.” Ashincor nodded his greeting. “It has taken me nearly two days to bring you back, Patér Linse,” Dolfini resumed. “What you did was dangerous.”

  “I was a little out of practice,” Ashincor replied.

  “Master,” Ansel cut in, “I also have news on Lady Morays.”

  Seeing Ashincor’s annoyance at Ansel’s indiscretion, Dolfini interceded. “I already know what you were doing here, Patér Linse. So does the Patér Rector.”

  “What about her then, Ansel?” Ashincor breathed. For now, he would take the Patér Rector’s knowledge as tacit approval of his actions.

  “The Viscountess left Crucidel today, Master, for Palace Pablen.”

  “She knows it was me at her palace,” Ashincor said, sitting up from his bed. “She was probably waiting to see if I would come back before leaving.”

  “I would not know about that, Master,” Ansel said cautiously. “I also learned though that there was trouble in some remote town where three Dark Witches were killed.”

  “That explains why only two came after me,” Ashincor muttered.

  “The Dark Witches,” Dolfini began. “What happened?”

  “I underestimated them. It will not happen again. This time moreover...” Ashincor trailed off as he looked from Ansel to Dolfini. “Any word from Patér Orqué?” he asked, referring to the man he was standing in for at the Palace Guard.

  “After you left, there were inquires made from the Palace regarding your whereabouts. Patér Orqué, who had just returned from vacation, told Lord Jordan that you were on leave.”

  “Orqué did not ask you where I was?”

  “No, Master, he said it was best that he not know. But he did want me to convey a message from the Patér Rector about some sort of nexus being reached.”

  Ashincor looked to Dolfini. A nexus was a point in time where major paths of the future branched off into different directions.

  “It involves your grandson,” Dolfini affirmed.

  “Has he been found?”

  “I can only presume so. But the Patér Rector urges you not to seek him out.”

  “Why?”

  “He said you would know why,” Dolfini replied.

  Ashincor grunted. Putting aside his unresolved issues with Derrick, he returned to his purpose in coming to Crucidel. The mysteries of his daughter’s murder were also still not resolved. “Ansel, I am not yet done here at Crucidel. And now it is going to be even more dangerous. Have you been practicing the new disciplines I taught you?”

  “Yes, Master,” Ansel answered, his eyes downcast. Ashincor had told him that they were advanced for his level, and to tell no one of these lessons.

  “There is something else, Patér,” said Dolfini, looking away from Ansel. “The Patér Rector has also instructed me to teach you two other Disciplines.”

  “Oh?” Ashincor asked.

  “But we will speak of them later. For now, you should rest.” Dolfini stood and went to the door. “I have a room here as well, Patér Linse. Please come see me before you leave.”

  Ashincor nodded and Dolfini closed the door behind him.

  “Will you be learning two of the Secret Disciplines, Master?”

  “It sounds like it, Ansel. But I take no comfort in it, for it means the Patér Rector thinks that I will soon be facing extreme danger.”

  “More than the two witches?”

  “Maybe. Or I will be called upon to do something... out of the ordinary.” Ashincor rose from his bed, standing quickly and then bracing himself against a chair. Ansel did not move. “Do you have something else to say, Ansel?” he asked, dispelling his dizziness. Ansel swallowed before answering.

  “Why are we here, Master? I had thought it was for Lord Derrick. Then I saw that you were not reporting your progress to anyone, and did not want me to tell anyone about this mission. The Patér Rector knows why we are here, right?”

  “Yes and no. You heard Patér Dolfini. The Patér Rector knows I am here, and probably knows why. But with knowledge comes responsibility. He may preserve his deniability around my actions, but he trusts me to do what must be done. The only message from him involved giving me information, not orders.”

  Ansel sat quietly. “I was with you for three days, Master,” he said finally. “I was scared, and did not know what to do. You might have died. Lady Mora
ys’ witches might have stormed our room at any time. I was afraid to move you, and did not know who to ask for help.”

  “I am sorry for all that, Ansel. My escape was... not easy.”

  “You have shown me a lot, Master. Given me teachings that I know are reserved for the higher levels of our Order. I know something about Dark Witches and their dangers. And I know what you expect of me in safeguarding the knowledge you have given me, should the worst happen. And I will do it, Master. That and more. But I need to know why.”

  Ashincor took a deep breath, reflecting on his selfishness. He had let this young man risk his life for the benefit of someone who was already dead. For the benefit of his own need to know. But Lilth Morays was more than just a passive witness, Ashincor told himself. If she were truly involved...

  “Do you trust me to do what is right, Ansel?” Ashincor asked.

  “Yes, Master. But do you trust me?”

  - - -

  Deep within the confines of Pablen Palace, Jordan Possór popped another shelled nut into his mouth as he waited for his answer. Since the coming of his sister to oversee the preparations for his coronation, but really to see that certain instructions she had given him were carried out, subverting this prisoner was one of the few bright spots in his week. “Well?” he pressed.

  “Go to Hell,” Dorian spat. The robed figure standing beside Jordan closed his eyes, and Dorian was once again overcome with pain.

  “You should understand this,” said Jordan, once Dorian stopped screaming, “I do not need you to do this. I just like to have things neat and tidy.”

  Dorian’s eyes rolled as he fought to keep his head steady. Sweat soaked through his clothing, but not a mark appeared on his body. Jordan had to admire this rogue initiate’s psychic technique. With someone like him around, Jordan could turn any room into a torture chamber, and no one would be the wiser. Jordan pressed his scented handkerchief to his upper lip. Except maybe the maids.

  “It is about image,” Jordan resumed. “My cousin Seffan was a blood thirsty bastard, indifferent to the rumors of him killing off family members. I can respect that, but my claim on the throne is less compelling than his was. I do not have the luxury of ignoring public relations. Besides, I want to seem different. You see then why I would avoid the spectacle of trying my nephew for murder—if I can?”

  “Have your trial, if you think the charges will stick!”

  “But they will, you fool!” yelled Jordan. “Guishaun walked right where I wanted him. With the major domo’s help, the surveillance in Varian’s room was completely reconfigured. We have all the evidence we need.” He leaned closer. “Good job, though, on framing the major domo for Varian’s death. You saved me the trouble of killing him later.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Jordan sighed. “Play dumb if you must, but one way or another, Guishaun will pay for his brother’s murder. And his father’s. You want a public trial, with you both brought down for all to see? Fine. I am curious though, when was the last time you saw your parents?”

  “Now you threaten them?”

  “Why not?” Jordan laughed. “They are nothing, as far as I am concerned. Your best hope is to cooperate with me, and hope that I will forget about them.”

  “They turned me away when I told them—”

  “Yes, yes. I get it. While Guishaun is quite a catch, they want grandchildren. So, do you want revenge on them? Do this, and they will be dead by morning.”

  “No!”

  “You want them alive, then? Please, do make up your mind. This is all so tiresome.” Jordan looked Dorian in the eyes. “If it would help, I believe Agnetha would prefer them alive.”

  “Leave my sister out of this, you sonofabitch!”

  “Oh, but she is in it already, as you already know. Funny, I was just telling her last night, after nearly pounding her through the headboard of my bed—”

  “Shut up! Shut the—!” Pain once again silenced Dorian’s words.

  “It may surprise you,” Jordan resumed as Dorian gasped for breath, “but I have grown somewhat fond of Agnetha. Her spirit. And energy. She is quite invigorating. Add her great beauty, and surprising intelligence, let us just say that I would rather that she not share your parents’ fate. But if you force it upon me...”

  “How do I know you’ll leave her and my parents alone?”

  “Your parents we have already discussed. As for Agnetha, well, be assured. Most women barely have time to slip on their shift before being ushered from my room. Agnetha is a fancy, but she will pass.”

  “Let her go now.”

  “Why Dorian, do you truly think me a monster? I mean, so long as you cooperate, the worst I might do is marry her. Would being the countess-grandia of Legan really be so bad?”

  “I need to know that you will let her go.”

  “Fine. Once Guishaun is dead, I will kick your baby sister from my bed.”

  Dorian sighed. “You are a pig,” he whispered.

  “And yet I stand higher than you. So tell me, truly, and finally, would you prefer your family dead, or alive?”

  Dorian’s head dropped to his chest. “Alive,” he whispered

  “Marvelous.” Jordan addressed one of the guards. “Clean him up, then give him the details and release him.” The guard bowed.

  “Just tell me this,” said Dorian as Jordan was about to leave. “You could have done this to me at any time. Why wait until now?”

  Jordan smiled. “My negotiations with Parliament required that my hands be clean of the deaths of Seonas and Varian. They need not be that clean anymore.”

  “Guishaun never had a chance, did he?”

  “He was but leverage in a game he knew nothing about.”

  “So you couldn’t kill him before now.”

  Jordan shrugged. “Every game has its rules. But take heart. You are letting Guishaun preserve his image too. Better to be killed by a jealous lover, just when he met the woman of his dreams, than to be executed for murdering his father and his brother, stupidly believing that he had a possible shot at the throne.”

  - - -

  The Patér Rector housed Derrick and Steuben in the most secure building in Ferramond: Nobili Hall, the residence of the reverend patér’s in whose care the University rested. Far from the monk’s cell he expected, Derrick’s room was simple yet comfortable, with an antique lamp and chronometer the only evidence of technology at hand. Given his recent accommodations, he was eager to enjoy the comparative luxury, and perhaps take advantage of its contemplative atmosphere, when he heard a soft knock at his door. He opened it a crack.

  “Good evening, my Lord,” said a woman wearing the long habit of her Order. Even without make up, the woman was pretty. And quite young. Derrick caught himself wondering what her hair looked like under her wimple.

  “Good evening,” Derrick answered.

  “I am Soror Sophia Lenia Currotti, a healer. I have come to offer my service.”

  Derrick’s eyebrows rose, though he quickly dismissed the immediate question that came to mind. “I am grateful, Soror, but... well a bit surprised. I did not know that women were allowed here unescorted. Especially late at night.”

  “Surely, my Lord jests,” the Soror replied. “But it is fair to ask why I have come, and not one of the local spiritual brothers. Be assured, I am very skilled.”

  “What makes you think Lord Legan requires healing?” Steuben asked, stepping up beside Derrick protectively.

  “No doubt Lord Legan acquired healing skills during his psychic training,” the Soror replied. “My study however specialized in this area.” She directed her eyes to Derrick. “Have you any lingering injuries yet unhealed, my Lord?”

  “My Lord,” Steuben began, “your health is a matter of state security. While the Soror here may come highly recommended, care should be taken in determining to whom Your Lordship would subject himself for examination.”

  The Soror looked at Steuben. “What happened to Lord L
egan cannot remain hidden indefinitely,” she said. “For now, it is his choice whether to accept assistance. Once he arrives in the Capital however, this may change.”

  “Meaning?” Steuben asked.

  “Lord Derrick has been missing for quite some time. Surely Parliament will expect some assurance that he is fit to assume the burden of government.”

  “Meaning the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can avoid any unwanted speculation,” Derrick concluded.

  “Yes, my Lord. And let us not forget, the greater the degree of doubt, the greater will be the degree of assurance required.”

  Derrick nodded. Delay would risk losing control over any examination.

  “If he submits to your examination,” Steuben said, seeing the political argument as well, “you will certify his physical and mental well-being?”

  “I cannot guarantee the results beforehand, Colonel,” the Soror replied. “But I have the ranking to make an Imperial certification. If all is well, there will be no need for His Lordship to submit to a second examination.”

  “Very well,” said Derrick, stepping aside for the Soror to enter as Steuben moved over a chair with a huff. “Where would you like me?” Derrick asked.

  “Your bed is fine, my Lord,” the Soror replied as she sat and closed her eyes.

  “I am marking minor items for adjustment, my Lord,” the Soror reported. As she touched him, Derrick felt an electrical prickling travel over his skin. “You could probably do these yourself, but I could as easily do them for you, if you wish.” The Soror paused. “You have had heart trauma. What happened?”

  “I have no idea,” Derrick replied.

  Steuben shifted his weight uneasily.

  “Have you a history of heart problems? You are young, my Lord. The cause of this damage was not a minor episode. You would remember it.”

  “His Lordship’s memory is… incomplete,” Steuben offered.

  The Soror nodded. “I will get to that momentarily. This damage occurred recently though, and is not from a congenital defect. From the condition of the rest of your body, I would say that this was induced artificially.” She held Derrick’s eyes. “You were tortured, my Lord. Badly.”

  “I do not remember anything,” said Derrick.