Lady of Mercy

by Michelle Sagara

  “No,” Renar whispered. “To kill him.” He drew breath. It hurt. “To kill him. For Maran. For Marantine. For my mother.”

  “As Cosgrove should have done.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Silence again, the silence of two separate struggles. “She was my youngest.” Lord Cosgrove smiled again, almost ghostlike. “The youngest are always the most wayward.” He drew himself up, and his eyes glittered. For a moment he wavered, and then his face stiffened, shutting out vulnerability and doubt. Wordless, he lifted his arm and his shaking hand pointed to the doors.

  Erin bowed her head; she lost sight of their pain through her own, unexpectedly. To come so close ... As Renar turned, she glanced back once and then began to follow the isolated prince.

  And then Lord Cosgrove spoke, his voice a whisper. “Renar, hold. I am grown old and foolish, but I must know. How will you kill him?”

  Renar’s eyes widened before they closed, and when they did, his lashes were moist. But he offered no tears. “Stent,” he said, in so quiet a voice that Erin almost missed it. He stood and walked in a blind teeter to where Lord Cosgrove sat.

  “Re.” His grandfather held out a hand.

  Then they both straightened out, aware of their dignity, and aware of the woman who watched. It was habit; she was not of the family, and weakness such as this was a family matter.

  Almost apologetically, Renar turned to Erin. His eyes were red-rimmed, but no tears escaped them.

  “Stenton Cosgrove,” he said. “All of his friends called him Stent—and I wanted to be as important as I thought they were.”

  They returned to their seats, and in earnest began to tell Lord Cosgrove the minutiae of their plans. It took a pitifully short time.

  “That’s idiotic!” Lord Stenton Cosgrove’s face was red. “I have never in my life heard such drivel!”

  “It may be 'idiotic,’ but it’s the only chance we have!” his grandson shot back. “Unless you have troops to aid us, and I haven’t noticed many with your colors in the street!”

  Erin sighed. She had been sighing for the better part of two hours. Lord Stenton Cosgrove had a very brittle method of exhaustive questioning. He was known for his sharpness for very real reason.

  “Lord Cosgrove,” she began.

  “If you have this so-called mage, and if his powers are up to the attack on the gate, it still has to be opened.”

  Renar nodded grimly.

  “Have you thought on that?”

  He nodded again.

  “Details?”

  “Later.”

  Lord Cosgrove snorted; he knew prevarication when he heard it, being a master of the art himself. Then he turned and gave Erin an appraising glance. “So while Re is off on his fool’s errand, blithely entering the palace and equally blithely asking all three hundred of the royal guards to kindly get out of his way while he kills Jordan,” he paused for breath, “you will be knocking cheerily on the church’s doors and asking the Swords to step aside while you kill the priests?”

  “I won’t be alone, either.”

  “Ah, yes. You’ll be with the patriarch of Culverne.”

  She bristled at the tone of the words. “Yes.”

  “No.”

  They both turned to stare at Lord Cosgrove. His word was completely final.

  Renar sighed. “Stent, I’ll be using the underground.”

  Stenton Cosgrove raised one eyebrow.

  “Underground? ”

  “My mother built a few tunnels in her spare time.” His smile was bitter. “I played in them. I learned to use my skills there. I’m not so stupid as to walk up to doors at the head of my army.”

  “That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve heard you say so far.” He raised his head thoughtfully. “Tunnels?”

  “Emergencies.”

  “Mara.” He shook his head and leaned over the desk to drum his fingers against the table. He, too, had a map; not so fine a one as Renar had procured, but clear enough to tell the tale. “This route?”

  “Morgan’s suggestion.”

  “This route, then. But it’s heavily patrolled.”

  “By city guards. Most of them don’t have official uniforms anymore; Tiras tells me they’re responsible for their own.”

  Stenton Cosgrove smiled. “Yes.” He stood, walked over and rapped at the library door. It opened instantly. “Get the captain. Send him in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door closed swiftly. Booted steps echoed in the hall.

  “There is one other family that we might wish to speak with,” Lord Cosgrove said, as he rested his chin atop his steepled fingers.

  “baton.”

  Lord Cosgrove nodded. “Tiber. He’s living on the political edge as it is, but he still maintains a large group of family guards. For his merchant lines.”

  “Would he help? He and Jordan were once close.”

  “You and Jordan were once close,” Lord Cosgrove said darkly. No other explanation was offered. Or needed. “He may attempt to negotiate concessions if you succeed.”

  “Such as?”

  “Marriage is the most probable.”

  Renar cringed.

  His grandfather smiled. “Merchanting territories. Tax concessions. Land—the land of the nine that fell is still in Jordan’s keeping.”

  “and?”

  “You can get away with the land concessions.” His eyes were twinkling. “But he’s likely to press for marriage at a later point in time. If you succeed.” The smile vanished. “Now. The gates. It takes half an hour to open them—and you won’t have it.”

  “Speak to Lord Beaton,” Erin said crisply. “We-we might have a method of opening the gates.”

  “Oh?”

  “The details ... haven’t been worked out yet.” She was painfully aware of Renar’s raised eyebrow as his gaze fell against her profile.

  He nodded. “How long do we have?”

  We. Erin smiled. “A week for the message to travel out of the city and back.”

  “Let me speak with Verena, then. She rooms here; I’ll send a message via Lianar.”

  They rose, and the doors to the library swung open.

  Renar stopped dead.

  Stenton was smiling broadly.

  “Captain Cospatric, I believe you’ve met my grandson?”

  Outside of the manor, Renar paused in front of the blooded stones. He murmured something, bowed, and then turned to Erin.

  “Lady?”

  She took his offered arm and they waited for the carriage to be brought round to the front.

  There was only one more place to go, and that would wait until after they had eaten.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Hildy fastened the belt of her housecoat tight around her solid girth. She strode down the steps that creaked beneath her, her expression thunderous. Corden, her oldest servant, quickly made way for her; he pitied anyone—be they Sword or guard—who earned her wrath.

  “Can’t even let an old woman get any sleep. I’ve a word or two to say to them,” she muttered as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Where are they?”

  “Front door, ma’am.”

  “Haven’t answered it yet, have you?”

  Corden shook his head slowly. “Didn’t recognize them.”

  The annoying knock came again, and Hildy grabbed the handle of the door, yanking it open.

  “What on—” She stopped, the redness of her face diminishing. Then, her lips turned up in a smile of recognition; her eyes brightened, and thoughts of sleep and irritation left them.

  “Hildy,” Erin said, extending a hesitant hand. “Might we enter?”

  Hildy rubbed her eyes once, and then nodded to Corden. “Put some tea on—or would you like something stronger?”

  “Tea would be wonderful.”

  “Something stronger.”

  Erin turned around as Renar stepped into Hildy’s view. Hildy couldn’t see the younger woma
n’s face; it was aimed at Renar.

  “Tea would be acceptable.”

  Erin sighed, and stepped quickly into the house. She followed Hildy into a small sitting room—one that had no windows to the outside world.

  “Take a chair, dear—or do you not have the time to sit for a bit?”

  “We’ve the time,” Renar replied. “Guard patrols around this area are rather frequent at this time of night.”

  Hildy nodded. “Well, then. Don’t stand on my account, dear; Corden will be along in a moment with an extra chair.”

  “I will certainly not sit while a lady is forced to stand.” He bowed. “Do be seated, madame. I shall wait for Corden.”

  Not one to remain uncomfortable for longer than politeness decreed, Hildy took a chair and pulled it up beside Erin. She gave the younger woman an encouraging smile, which was returned cautiously.

  Corden arrived with tea—and was sent away for the promised third chair. He arrived with this, looking somewhat more tired.

  “Thank you, Corden. Back to bed with you, dear—you look as if you could use it.”

  Corden looked pointedly at both of Hildy’s guests.

  “No, dear, I think they’re fine. And I can handle myself if it comes down to that.”

  Corden looked more pointedly at the sword at Erin’s side.

  “To bed, dear. Now.”

  With a shrug that was more eloquent than words, Corden surrendered. He turned and walked out of the room. Erin very much doubted that he would get any sleeping done at all while they were there.

  “Much better. Cream, dear, or sugar?”

  Erin shook her head. “No thank you.”

  “And you?”

  “Both.”

  As soon as the tea was placed in front of them, Erin leaned forward. Hildy settled back into her chair with a satisfied smile, her face attentive.

  “Hildy-when you helped us to get into the city, you said that we might call on you if we needed any help.”

  “Aye, dear. I believe that’s what I said.” She took a sip of tea and then set the cup aside. “And you’ve come for my help, have you?” She clapped her hands together. “How exciting!”

  Renar rolled his eyes and gave Erin a very arch “I told you so” look. She ignored it.

  After a moment, Hildy sat back, her eyes still bright, but her face much more sober. “It’s serious business, isn’t it?”

  Erin nodded.

  “And in any other situation—even in this one, if the truth were told,” Renar put in, “we’d not have come to you for it.”

  “That serious?”

  Erin nodded again.

  “Let’s have it, then.”

  “You said you would be leaving the city in two to four weeks.”

  “Aye. And you want me to take someone out with me? I can do it, dear, but there doesn’t seem to be much place to take them to, if you understand what I’m saying.” Hildy looked mildly disappointed.

  “We want you to take someone with you, yes—but we want you to leave him at the gate.”

  “At the gates, dear?”

  “What the young lady is trying so poorly to say is this: We need the north gates open long enough for approximately a hundred armed men to come charging through. Opening the gates is a time-consuming procedure—and unfortunately, our man at the gate won’t be able to do it alone—he’s going to have to keep an eye out for the garrison. The only way we can have the gate opened to our advantage is if those set to guard it follow their usual procedure. Needless to say, they wouldn’t do it for us.”

  “North gate?” Hildy rubbed her chin a minute. “Garrison’s stronger there. Why north?”

  “Not the gate I would have chosen, but we’ve no choice.” Renar shrugged it aside. “The risk to you, and there is a risk, is that you must keep your caravan midway between the gates so they can’t be easily closed. It wouldn’t be necessary, but you know as well as I that closing the gates to Dagothrin is much simpler than opening them.”

  Hildy frowned. “That’s a risk, all right. I’ve not many men, although I’ll grant you that all of them can fight.”

  “I wish I could tell you that they won’t be called on to do it. I can’t. But your caravan, and one or two other incidents, will be the signal for—”

  “All of it, Renar,” Erin said curtly.

  He glanced at Erin, and set his lips in a thin line.

  Her frown was equally tense, but it didn’t last beyond her sigh. “Hildy, we need the north gate; you’ll be our signal to those who wait to enter. There are a hundred men, maybe more.”

  “Ah. The resistance, then.” Hildy was silent and thoughtful, her brow furrowed, her eyes on the far wall. After a moment, she picked up her cup of cooling tea and sipped it reflectively. “I’ll have to think on it. It’s a risk.”

  Renar threw another look at Erin, and she stood quietly.

  “Madame”—he bowed—“there is no reason why you have to accompany your caravan.”

  China hit wood with a sharp clunk. Tea sloshed out of cup to splash table. “Young man.” Hildy stood. “I’ll thank you not to ever suggest that I’d send my people into a danger I wouldn’t face myself.”

  Renar bowed. “My apologies. I was considering your safety.”

  “Not a pretty excuse.” She sat down again. “Aren’t you going to stay and finish your tea?”

  “We’ve much to do to be prepared—and if your help cannot be counted on, we’ve others to seek.”

  It was a lie, and her expression told him that she knew it well; such exaggerations were not uncommon in her profession. They regarded each other carefully a moment, and Renar began to speak again.

  “We cannot offer you much, but if we should succeed, I can promise you a large portion of monetary—ouch!”

  “Let you do the talking,” Erin muttered, giving him a less-than-friendly shove back into his seat while he massaged his shin.

  “Aye.” Hildy nodded, taking another sip of tea. “I don’t know why you let him do it, dear, but at least you’ve the sense that he obviously doesn’t. Money indeed.” She smiled. “You’ve got my curiosity piqued, I’ll give you that. Money.”

  Erin watched the old woman, and then picked up her own cup. She was smiling. “We need the gate,” she said, ignoring the glare that Renar was almost certainly directing at her, “because we need to get the men into the city. There aren’t enough of them on their own, but with the help of one or two highly placed people, we intend to take the palace.”

  Hildy smiled encouragingly at Erin, who continued.

  “We believe we can wrest it away from the governor and the priests that form his council. But speed and time are of the essence—and we can’t do it without your help. We’ve a way to take care of the garrison, but no way to open the gates—without you”

  Renar was sputtering quietly. He was used to being ignored, true, but only when he had decided on it.

  “Well. Well, then. I have to think a moment.”

  “Will you help us?”

  “Help?” She sighed. “Youth is always so impatient. I was talking to myself there. But help you? Of course I will.” She looked suddenly at Renar, and then sighed. It was very theatrical.

  “But you know, dear, they don’t make royalty like they used to.”

  Renar froze for a moment.

  “Time was when royalty knew how to be polite.” She began to chuckle, and Erin, her heart slowly starting again, joined in. She started to speak, and Hildy caught her hand.

  “No, dear. It isn’t necessary. Why know more than I have to know? I’ll talk it over with the boys.”

  Tiras stood in his bathrobe, holding a light aloft in the long hallway. Shadows flickered across his stark face, lending it a gauntness that the day normally hid.

  The side door creaked once, and he stepped forward.

  For an instant the lamplight caught Renar in strict relief, back against wall and face tilted into darkness. He straightened immediately, planting his feet firmly
apart.

  “It’s only me,” Tiras said softly. “Did you find what you searched for?”

  Renar bowed his head. Tiras mirrored the gesture a moment and then gestured with the lamp.

  Together they walked up the stairs and into Tiras’ small study. The door closed softly behind them.

  Lamps were lit, giving the room a warm glow. Renar fitted his mouth with a smile; Tiras did the same.

  “Five of the ten, Tiras.”

  “Better than we’d hoped.”

  “Yes.” Renar’s smile wavered and he turned abruptly away from the source of light in front of him.

  “Renar,” Tiras said quietly, “you were, in many ways, the best of my students. Your mother’s equal.” He shook his head. “In some ways, you were my worst. But it’s because of this that you’re here; because of it, I’m willing to help.”

  “Don’t. Don’t say it.” He looked up. Tiras had always despised any acknowledgment of pain. Knowing this, Renar did what he could to hold on to his facial expression. “I know.”

  “No-no, you don’t.” Tiras gave a bitter chuckle. “If you listened to everything I’ve tried to teach you, would you be manning an attack on the royal palace with little over a hundred men?”

  Renar stared at the desk. “Five of the ten, Tiras. The rest perished in 'rioting’ because they could not sell what they believed in.”

  “I know.” As if from a great distance, he continued to speak. “We argued about it, Terrela and I. Long arguments; real ones. She was not, in the end, a cunning woman—nor a subtle one. She knew only her own business well.

  “Aye, we argued. We fought for two weeks. In the end, she threw me out. She would not listen to me. Would not believe that in this, there was a power greater than her own.”

  Renar listened quietly.

  “I went out that night—the Night of Fires. I went out into the streets, among the Swords and guards. I thought I might somehow find her; somehow change her mind.” He laughed hollowly. “Wouldn’t have done any good, and I knew it. She was infamous by that time; if any had escaped, she could not have been among them. The Swords had their orders.

  “I killed a few for her on the way back. A few? ” He laughed again and turned away from his student, hiding his face a moment. “Every one I could get my hands on.”