Blood of the City

by Robin D. Laws

  "That might be their preferred way of doing it."

  "I interrupted your tale. If Randred was not yet a councilor, he would have at the time been head of the Derexhi top squad."

  "Yes," said Melune.

  "So the two of you met as you pursued your respective vocations?"

  "You tell the story, lord-mayor. When you guess incorrectly, I shall interrupt."

  "Some testimony this is." Grobaras balled up the cloth, which was already soaked with his sweat. "Very well. There was a person whose life your family was engaged to end, and Randred's was engaged to protect."

  "Go on," Melune said.

  "But this individual's identity is otherwise tangential to the tale?"

  Melune nodded.

  Grobaras smiled, as if warming to the challenge of the game. "Though, also as a mere point of trivia, it was your family who ultimately succeeded, and his that failed."

  "My silence on that point cannot be taken as confirmation."

  "Here you will have to help me, sniper. Did Randred know who you were, at first? No, he couldn't have. You were posing as someone else. Are you posing as someone else now?"

  "I am Luma's mother."

  "So you met Randred in the course of this case. He was unaware of your family connections. You did not tell him. Not until later. You were young. You were drawn to one another, as sometimes happens, the line between enemy and kindred spirit being notoriously thin. You fell into one another's arms. This one here, with the trembling look—she was conceived. You could have, and should have, run away. Your people would scarcely approve of such a union. Of any union, except among its own tight circle. Yes?"

  "I have not interrupted you."

  "But you didn't run away. You turned your back on everything. Betrayed the edicts of your ...group. Why?" Grobaras leaned back, then forward. "Oh. Yes. Of course. For the first and only time, you saw another life for yourself. Not with your family, but with his. An old story. And so you married."

  "This is more than you need to hear."

  "Hear? I'm not hearing anything, aside from the sound of my own voice. Melodious though it may be. To weigh the tale's credibility, I must perceive its full outlines. Randred's father ..." Grobaras turned to Luma. "He was also called Arrus, was he not?"

  "Yes," said Luma.

  "Old Arrus would have disapproved of any surprise union. But with one of your background? That he forbade, surely."

  "He did," Melune breathed.

  "So, one, you eloped, and two, you did not tell him who you were. But by this time Randred did know. When he figured it out—he did figure it out, yes?"

  "Continue," said Melune.

  "You didn't tell him but he worked it out. Maybe you gave him what he needed to work it out. That bit doesn't matter."

  "It does not."

  "So," Grobaras went on, "he learned, he was shocked, he pledged to stick by you. But then your family found out. They didn't come to him, or to Old Arrus. Because if they'd threatened the Derexhi, the Derexhi would have got their backs up. Sworn to fight for you, no matter what the cost. Warrior reputation, family honor, sheer cussedness and so on and so forth? Yes, I'm right again."

  Melune folded her hands in her lap. "Even those who despise you say you are a clever man, Lord-Mayor."

  "Thank you. They didn't come to them. They came to you. Wait, this is where your story fails. The Red—that is, your family—they do not forgive. They would not have gone to you and warned you to leave him. This group, they would have slain you without a word, appearing suddenly in their insect masks, erasing you from the world forever. This won't do. Your narrative does not hold."

  For the second time a tension pushed through Melune's composure. "This is a story with three fathers in it," she said.

  "Ah. Let's see." Grobaras counted on his fingers. "Randred's a father. His father is Old Arrus. And then ...your father. Yes. He falters. Despite his own vows, he loves you. He can't do it. He commands authority in the group, doesn't he? So he expends it on your behalf. He brokers an arrangement. Your life is to be spared. But you must still pay a price. And so must he, I imagine.

  "You're not gainsaying me. I'll go on. The price is this—the marriage must not only end, it must be obliterated, wiped from the record."

  "That is a price."

  "The price is, you lose your daughter, the issue of the loathsome union. You agree to disappear. You leave a note to Randred. He must pretend you never existed, that the marriage never existed. He must never so much as speak your true name." Grobaras turned again to Luma. "Melune, that is not a name you ever heard before. Yes?"

  Luma nodded. "I always heard a different name."

  "An invented name. Melune the murderess-for-hire could not be the mother of Luma Derexhi. Because if word of this were to circulate, it would be known that the Red Mantis assassin cult exercises mercy when its edicts are disobeyed."

  "That can never be said," Melune said.

  "This is why I did not say it," said Grobaras. "If you had not gone along, they would have taken your husband's life. And his father's, too. But this is not why you agreed."

  "It is, in part, why I agreed," said Melune.

  "You agreed because they would have killed the baby."

  Melune straightened her spine. "Does the tale hold water, then?"

  "You could still be lying about the marriage. That's the important detail to the matter at hand."

  "Then you must decide whether you think I am lying."

  "You're not lying because you said nothing and I heard nothing and absolutely seek no contact with the people of whom we do not speak. Ergo, you must have been legally married to Randred at the time of Luma's birth, making her clear heir to Derexhi House, its properties, contracts, accounts, and obligations. As I will attest and specify, should any dare challenge her."

  "It is not good for me to be here." Melune moved down from the bleachers. She turned back to face Luma. "I am sorry," she said. She strode to the nearest street and then, with an instantaneous change of circumstances that must have been aided by some sort of enchantment, was gone.

  "Consider that my reparation," the lord-mayor said to Luma, "for the aforementioned threats of torture, unmerited arrest, and so forth."

  "I don't follow you, Grobaras."

  A team of city guards ran into the plaza, bearing vials of healing liquor. Grobaras tried to rise, but fell faint. Luma caught him.

  "You wouldn't have wrung all that from her on your own," he said.

  "I think you're right."

  "Should it not go without saying, you are also absolved of Khonderian's murder. It is another crime they shall hang for." He indicated Arrus and Eibadon, of whom the arriving guards now took custody. Grobaras surveyed the tumble of corpses in the square before them. "Be of cheer, if cheer you are capable of. You are alive, and free, and this is done.

  "No," said Luma, "it isn't."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Home

  A pair of sentinels Luma did not recognize stood guard at the Derexhi House gate. The two of them, a sharp-jawed woman and a ruddy-faced man, jolted from inattention as they caught sight of her. She pulled a sword; he readied his pike. Luma removed her sickle from the strap at her back, leaving the leather guard on the blade.

  "Stand aside," she said.

  "You're Luma Derexhi, aren't you?" asked the man.

  "Yes, and I've no wish to harm you. You'll lower your weapons."

  "We've orders to apprehend you, should you come here."

  "You will fail if you try," said Luma. "Moreover, your orders are void. Those who gave them to you are dead or awaiting execution. You answer to me now."

  The woman eased back a step. "We do?"

  "You do. Try my patience no further."

  "Shouldn't we ask for proof of this?" The man directed his question more to his partner than to Luma.

  "Your continued employment, not to mention your lives, depends on your immediate obedience," Luma said.

  The woman
sheathed her sword; the man dropped his pike and opened the wrought-iron gate. Luma stepped through it. "Now pick up that pike and stand like proper guardsmen," she said.

  She marched to the front door and hauled it open. The servant Bhax appeared from the ballroom, shoes whiffing across its tiles. He crossed the foyer threshold, holding in one hand a silver candlestick and in the other a polishing rag. Both plummeted to the floor, the candlestick thudding onto the rug.

  "Do not cry out," Luma said.

  Bhax stammered.

  "You will take me to Yandine, doing nothing to alert her to our approach."

  He showed no sign of having understood her. "Miss Luma, you must get out of here before they get back."

  "They will not be back. I am the heir now."

  Bhax paled. "What happened, Miss Luma?"

  "You will address me as ‘Mistress.' Now do as I say."

  "Mistress—that is, Yandine—is poorly this morning. She is in her chamber."

  "Take me to her."

  Trembling, Bhax crossed to the grand staircase and dawdled his way up it, with Luma behind him. He took her to the door.

  "Now you may announce me," Luma said, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door.

  Bhax tapped on the door. "Mil—Mis—Luma is here to see you, milady." He darted away from it, as if shocked by contact with the wood.

  "Call the guards!" Yandine shouted.

  "There will be none of that," said Luma, thrusting open the door. Yandine sat up in her bed, wearing her nightshift, her hair in disarray. A reddened nose and eyes confirmed her state of ill health.

  "What has happened?"

  Luma took a spot at the foot of her bed. She still had her sickle out. "Iskola and Ulisa are dead. Arrus and Eibadon have been arrested for treason and will see the gallows. Ontor has fled. I'd ask you if you've seen him, but your shock appears genuine."

  "I don't—I don't—Iskola, dead you say? And Ulisa? How?"

  "By fire and by arrow, as they tried to murder the lord-mayor. I say tried because Haldemeer Grobaras lives."

  "Dead?"

  "Get up and make me tea, as you did before."

  Tearing at the bedsheets, Yandine wailed out in grief. She threw her head back, weeping, then pitched over, burying her face in the covers.

  Luma waited until she had expended herself, and then said, "Get up and make me tea, as you did before."

  Yandine blinked at her, uncomprehending.

  "I'll not tell you again, Yandine."

  Shaking, dull-eyed, snot dripping from her nose, her stepmother freed herself of the coverlet and stumbled to the tea chest. "Why are you asking this of me? Can't you see I'm sick?"

  "When you poured tea for me before, you told me that Father was ill and dying. I wish to see if you believed that when you said it, or if you were a party to his murder."

  She removed the top from her kettle and reached blindly for the water-jug. "Murder?"

  "Was this all your plan, Yandine?" Luma gestured to the heatstone, with its High Chelish provenance, and the kettle, with its decorative devils. "You came to us from Korvosa. Have you not often wished that Magnimar would ...Let's see, what word would you use for our vassalage? Ally with the city of your birth?"

  Yandine labored to get the water into the kettle without spilling it all over herself. "Many feel that way," she said.

  "And many hope for the ultimate reconstruction of the Chelish Empire."

  Seeking composure, Yandine pushed her chin out. "I am not ashamed to count myself among them." Unable to sustain this burst of pride, she let herself fall against the wall. "To tell me that my children are slain, and then accuse me of killing my beloved—you are a cruel, terrible creature, Luma, inhuman and cold!"

  "If that is true, I have you and your spawn to thank for it," said Luma. "And I owe them a debt, for their betrayal gave the strength I needed to unmask and destroy them. I am here to determine exactly what sort of debt I owe you, Yandine, and how I might dispatch it."

  Yandine balled her fists and beat them against the wallpaper behind her. "If you've come to kill me, then do it. To humiliate me as well ...it is unforgivable!"

  "Did you put them up to it? Was it your idea that Arrus should be lord-mayor?"

  Yandine put the kettle on the heatstone and watched as it glowed red.

  "And if you're thinking of throwing boiling water at me," said Luma, "I welcome the clarity such an act would bring."

  Yandine flung herself in a chair and blew her nose into a soggy handkerchief. "Go ahead and slaughter me, so that I might join my daughters in the existence beyond."

  "Only if I conclude that you conspired with them."

  "Lord it over me, then. Savor your power over a sick and helpless woman."

  "You have a cold, Yandine. Did you tell them to poison Father? To do away with me?"

  "No."

  "Look at me when you say that."

  "No, I did not."

  "Say it a third time."

  Yandine flushed. She twisted the snot-rag like she was throttling the life from it. "Since they were born I have wanted only the best for my children. If that meant nudging you to the side, then so be it. I desired that Arrus be the greatest man in Magnimar, and that he help restore the lost greatness of our empire. All these things I proudly say. But I loved your father as well as I loved any of them, and would never harm a hair upon his head. Nor would I urge my children to treason and murder. Even if I had, I would not urge them to strike against you. I never considered you consequential enough to stand in our way." Her face shone with defiant fury.

  Luma assessed this expression for a good long time. "A prize performance. But I think you are probably lying."

  Yandine yanked aside her night-dress, baring her throat to the collarbone. "Then I'll die like a Chelish noble."

  Luma opened Yandine's tea-box, transferring a spoonful of Jalmeray Black into an infuser ball, which then dropped into a cup. "I said probably. I can't be sure."

  "Read my mind, then."

  "I have."

  "And?"

  "The results are ambiguous. As so much is with you, Yandine. And unless I am certain, I must not slay you. So here is your fate. You have one hour to collect necessaries for your trip from the city. You may take a single trunk and whatever of your personal possessions you can fit into it. These I will inspect, to ensure that you do not rob the house of its treasures."

  "I would never stoop to such an act!"

  "Gold would ease your journey, and so I deprive you of it. Upon the hour, you will be escorted to the family coach, which will convey you to Dockway. There, Bhax will assist you in procuring the first ship out of the city. Though I expect you will eventually make your way back to Korvosa, you must take the earliest vessel Bhax can find, regardless of its destination or amenities. Should you ever return to Magnimar, rest assured that I will execute you. Also, should I find conclusive proof of your guilt in Father's death, I will hunt you wherever you are in this world, and then you will die, like or unlike a Chelish noble. Have you any questions?"

  Yandine jumped to her feet. "You haven't the authority!"

  "The lord-mayor has declared me heir. I have that authority and more."

  "Until Arrus is executed, he remains lord!"

  The kettle whistled; Luma poured tea into her cup. "I'd pour you one as well, but your hour has already begun, and you won't want to tarry. Perhaps you have a technical, legal point in your favor. I invite you to bring it before Grobaras, who is in a hanging mood and looking for imperials he can make examples of without political ramification."

  "Even if Arrus was dead, you're still a bastard!"

  "Not so, it transpires. Now pack."

  Fifty-nine minutes later, Luma found a string of black pearls, two ruby rings, and a shimmering elven mantle in Yandine's trunk. After removing these valuables, she bid the servants convey it to the carriage outside. Yandine stood on the threshold of Derexhi Manor, tears drenching her face and speckling down onto the
collar of her traveling cloak, until Luma gestured at her with her sickle. Yandine sucked in a lungfull of air, pointed her nose skyward, and swanned to the coach, which she entered with a queen's hauteur.

  Luma watched the carriage until it was out of sight, then felt an emptiness that might have been satisfaction.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Basilisk's Eye

  Luma went to the Basilisk's Eye, the tavern in Dockway where she'd previously found Thaubnis, and took the corner table. When the barmaid approached, Luma ordered a flagon of ale for appearance's sake, palmed her a gold coin, and said, "See to it we're not bothered." She waited past the tolling of the noon bell and then the one o'clock. Growing uneasy, she waved to the barmaid and requested a mug of water. When it arrived, she muttered the arcane words of a purification spell and drank it down. A balding dockworker smiled at her with fishy lips and rose from his chair, as if to come toward her. With a forbidding grimace, Luma bade him retake his seat. Shortly afterward, he wove up to his feet and fumbled out the door.

  The two o'clock bell rang. Luma drummed her fingers along the table, to the rhythm of the prevailing citysong. She got up to use the lavatory. When she returned, Melune was there, having taken the seat she'd vacated, the one with its back against the wall.

  Luma sat. "You wished to meet me."

  The elf woman paused, as if to listen for threatening sounds, before speaking. "Yes," she said.

  "Do you want anything?"

  Melune, allowing herself a barely detectable gesture, shook her head.

  Luma drank the last of her water. "I thought I might not hear from you again."

  Melune took a deep breath. "This is why I asked to see you."

  "Yes?"

  "I must leave the city. I should have left already. But I did not want to simply disappear. From your point of view, I mean to say. I did not want you to think that I had vanished on you without a thought."

  "Should I expect you back?"

  Melune's right hand clenched. "That won't be possible."

  "For how long?"

  "For always," said Melune.

  "Do I have to quiz you like Grobaras, to drag the truth from you by guesswork?"