Umaryn’s brows furrowed. She clearly did not agree.
“Well you getting sick along with them is excellent cover. Had this not happened, they might’ve considered you as the culprit,” Mal said with a smile. He sat down a cup of cool water on her nightstand and cleared the sweaty hair from her forehead. Umaryn took a sip of the refreshing water, sighed and rubbed her throat.
“Usul was very angry about his robe though. I tried twice to wash the blood out, but to no avail. I told him you took ill suddenly when it was on the coat rack. I think it’ll be a day or two before they venture outside as well, which is good because some of the graves for the dead are behind the outbuildings in the back of the yard. It’s been snowing steadily all day, and with the ancestor’s blessings, we’ll have an inch or two to cover the fresh earth. Umaryn I can’t think of a single good reason to bury a body. What a strange way to dispose of the dead.”
Umaryn snickered silently. Burial was stupid.
A knock on the door a day later got Maya up from the kitchen table. It was clean of the disaster that Umaryn had left there just two days earlier. The young girl had continued her vomiting and added much worse substances after Malwynn had brought her there.
Maya shuffled her six decades old feet across the hardwood floor that Malwynn had painstakingly cleaned. Her arthritic bones and the joints connecting them ached and moved with gritty resistance, and her body was still recuperating from the sickness of the days prior, but she moved on. The door had been knocked, and it was polite to answer it. She could see through the small window at the top of the door that whoever was knocking was very tall, more than a head above her own. She slid the heavy bolt aside, and pulled the thick door inward.
Just a foot outside her door stood a powerfully statuesque man wearing a plush robe of the Queen’s purple. He was alone, which was remarkable in and of itself. Most wearers of purple brought with them an entourage of armored undead. The gentle drift of snowflakes behind him made it seem as if he’d brought the very winter itself with him to her doorstep. His pale white hands were crossed gently at his waist, and he stood silent and passive, hood obscuring all of his facial features as he waited for Maya to greet him.
“Good day to you sir. What may I do for a servant of the Queen?” Maya asked. Her voice felt too small in her mouth in the face of this man, like whispering to a mountain.
The man’s head tilted a fraction of an inch sideways suddenly, like a bird’s. No, she thought, more like a bird of prey. He assessed her for a moment, chilling the blood in her veins a bit more than it needed to be before he spoke. “Good day to you madam. It appears as if a rather important person has gone missing in this neighborhood. Might I ask you if you’ve had the opportunity to pay your taxes this week?” His voice did her body no favors. It was deep, yet not full of warmth, or melody. She felt her mouth dry suddenly.
“I’ve not. My husband and I have been very ill for a few days, as has one of the people renting a room from us. We’ve had our tax money set aside for the Queen for weeks now, but he’s not been here yet.”
“Mmm,” the robed man responded. “That’s a shame. Although your honesty is refreshing. Might I collect your obligation?”
Maya turned immediately to go get the bag of coins but stopped, “How much is our obligation this year?”
The robed figure titled his head the other way, as if he was calculating the figure on the spot, “What was your payment to the Queen last year?”
Maya had a brief moment where she felt mischievous, and wanted to tell him a lie, but for fear of the consequences, she let the actual memory float to the surface, “I believe we paid two hundred and forty Crowns.”
“Well. As the man dutifully tasked to collect your annual dues this year, I hold your previous tax bill of two hundred and forty Crowns, payable immediately.”
Maya knew the man wasn’t a real tax collector. No tax collector ever collected the same amount two years running, but she was happy to keep the lower bill. She walked over to the hallway table and pulled the drawer out to get the bag of coins. It was all ten Crown coins, and she counted out twenty four of them on the table before putting them back in the bag, all under the watchful eye of the tall man at the door. She shuffled back over the patient figure and extended the bag out. He took it from her with fingers made of carved ivory. She could see the fine blue veins just under the skin.
“The Queen thanks you.”
Maya nodded humbly in return, “And we thank the Queen.”
“Do take good care of yourself Maya. It would be a shame if you or your two young renters succumbed to a silly stomach ailment.”
Maya was confused, and asked a question without thinking, “I never said we had a stomach ailment.”
She could sense the man smiling in the darkness of his robe, “You also never said you had two young renters, yet I know that as well. The truth is always apparent here in Graben to those that know how to seek it Maya. Mind your health. Be a good, quiet citizen.” The tall man turned smoothly and walked down her steps and away. She watched as he glided down the street towards the center of the Low City, and likely, the lifts. She slowly pushed the door shut, and vowed to never, ever doubt the Queen again.
“I love the sunsets. Do you know why I love the sunset more than the sunrise kids?” Ellioth asked quietly as the glowing orange ball gradually dipped lower and lower to the horizon.
Umaryn was first to speak, “Because you like the night better than the day?”
Ellioth smiled, but shook his head, “Good guess, but no that’s not quite right.” He adjusted the weight of the newest family addition in his arms. Baby Rynne was only a few months old, and blissfully sleeping in her father’s arms.
Malwynn admired the love on his father’s face with the tiniest amount of jealousy. He loved his new sister, but watching his parents share some of the love originally only he and his twin received made him feel a little envy. He threw a guess into the hat, “Is it because when the sun goes away, the two moons come out?”
Ellioth smiled and nodded, “That’s just about right son. I love Elmoryn’s two moons. Fat, white Lune, and small, red Hestia. We lose but one sun every sunset, and we gain two moons for the loss. I’d say sunset is quite the bargain when held against the sunrise in the mornings.”
The twins couldn’t argue with his logic.
“Plus I also love the children of the night.”
The twin’s father spoke of the small comets that danced across the night sky of Elmoryn. Against a backdrop of pure darkness the small glowing white pinpricks flew across the vision almost faster than could be seen. Some fatter comets lazily slid from horizon to horizon, and some split the difference, having a bit of haste. No matter their speed, or their size, the children of the night were seen as good omens, playful spirits, and many a wish was made when their presence was in the sky.
“I do too. They’re such strange things. Do you think they ever land here on the ground? Do you think the children ever fall from the sky?” Malwynn asked, his teenage curiosity peaked.
Ellioth sighed and spent a few moments deep in thought. “I don’t know Mal. Your mother and I have traveled nearly the entire width and breadth of this world in our years, and I can tell you, no one has ever found a fallen child of night and knew it. I hope that if one of those tiny bits of joy ever fell from the sky, someone’s wish would come true. Maybe someone has a wish that a child of night will fall some day?”
What a sad wish the twins thought. From inside their home several yards away they could smell the side of lamb that their mother Catherine was cooking over the fire. The large fireplace in the kitchen had a cast iron spit, and the kids knew she was sitting near it, likely reading, and giving the meat gentle slow turns. Ellioth, the twins, and baby Rynne were sitting far outside the house at this very moment to give the mother time alone. Raising twins, caring for a newborn, and being the village’s lone Apostle had exhausted the woman.
“Dad do you think the Guild will ev
er build a hall here in New Picknell?” Umaryn asked her father. He was so learned, so well traveled. She felt he knew almost anything.
Ellioth smiled again. Having such a wonderful family seemed to keep any expression other than a smile away. “Well my little artificer, I’d think that there’s little need for a Guildhall here, unless of course a local Artificer were to petition the Guild Council in Port Caelin for permission to erect one.”
The Artificer’s Guild was centralized in the ocean side city of Port Caelin, many days train ride away. Umaryn’s hopes leapt in her chest at the thought of one day practicing her skill in The Way enough to be a member of the Guild. She wanted so badly to wear the red trimmed grey robes that told the world she wielded The Way.
“I think I’d like that a lot dad. To be the first official Artificer of the Guild in New Picknell? Build my very own hall? What a dream.” Umaryn gushed.
Malwynn snorted, “Maybe you should figure out how to cast a second spell first sis.”
Umaryn shot her twin brother a glance that would melt iron, “Maybe you should figure out how to cast a first spell assface.”
“Assface? Seriously?” Mal said. The fight was on.
“Now now. You two have a little sister to set an example for now. Your mother and I won’t stand for this bickering in front of Rynne.” Ellioth’s tone was firm.
“But dad-“ Umaryn retorted.
Ellioth cut her off, “But nothing. You will be exemplary older siblings to Rynne, or I’ll start praying to the ancestors to let mice into your bedroom at night. And trust me, your mother has a very straight means of communication to the ancestors.”
The twins looked away, ashamed and just a little fearful of their father’s threat. Catherine’s gift as an Apostle was serious indeed. The last thing the brother and sister wanted was to give their mother a reason to get the ancestor’s attention turned towards them.
“Sorry dad.”
“Sorry dad.”
“Apologize to your little sister. Just think about more than yourselves for a change. You’re plenty old enough to start thinking about not only your future, but the futures of everyone around you. If Umaryn wants to build New Picknell’s first Guildhall, then by the spirit of your great uncle Victor, our family’s first Artificer, then so be it. What’s your dream Malwynn? What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you want?” Ellioth asked, his eyes focused intently on Mal.
Mal suddenly sat up in bed, startled from the dream with the burning memory of the setting golden sun shimmering on his father’s eyes. He was covered in a cold sweat in the colder bedroom. Outside the snow continued to fall. Umaryn was still in her bed, and she slept soundly. Malwynn thought she looked better now in the dawn light than when he’d gone to bed. The orphan brother rested his head back on the cool damp pillow and remembered his dream of that warm summer night so many years ago.
Malwynn whispered aloud, consoling his grief run mind, “I know you can’t hear me, but I just want everything back dad. I want sunsets, and fields of grass, and deep piles of snow in the winter. I want hot dinners in the kitchen I grew up in, and I want to see everything that I can never see again. I want to hold Marissa’s hand in the hay. I don’t care about growing up anymore.”
Malwynn rolled onto his stomach and sobbed alone until he fell back asleep.
“I realize this sounds silly, but can we actually afford this place?” Umaryn asked her brother as they rode down the snowy cobblestone streets of the Low City. Everything in Graben had changed with the past two weeks of snowfall. Rooftops were frosted in a clean white draping, making everything seem less grubby, and depressed. It almost seemed welcoming and beautiful now.
“Why would that be silly?” Mal asked, navigating his massive Gvorn down the street. Few people walked or rode in this area of the town. Few could afford to live here.
“Have you seen the people who live here Mal?” Umaryn asked in a hushed tone. “Half of them are Imperial in some fashion or another, and they’re all wealthy.”
Mal nodded in agreement, smiling at a well-to-do pedestrian that admired Bramwell. “Umaryn, we managed to take almost three thousand Crowns off that tax collector last week. We got three one hundred Crown coins alone. The second floor of this home is only a hundred Crowns a month. I figure we’ll be here no more than six months, until spring, and that leaves us a massive pile of shitty purple money to spend in that time. We lay low for a month, eat and drink well, make sure the city doesn’t catch on to us, and then we’re back on the prowl, looking for our next lead.”
“It gives me goose bumps being this near to those damn elevators Mal. We’re so close to the palace it makes my skin crawl.” Umaryn rubbed the sleeves of her new wool coat. One of the finer purchases the death of the tax man had offered them.
“I know. But in all likelihood sister, there is a man or woman in this district that knows about home, or knows someone who does. This is the best place for us to continue on, and we simply can’t stay at Maya and Usul’s. They are already in far too much danger. What would happen if an Inquisitor came to visit them? What then?” Malwynn posed to her as they turned into a narrower street. It was lined with nice homes made of stone and brick, with wrought iron fences, and bars artfully laced across the windows. Small gargoyles made of grey granite perched at the edges of roofs in homage to the glorious and ominous homes on the cliff high above.
“Yeah yeah. The sense of it doesn’t make my skin settle any Mal. There’s something wrong about being here, and the further we get away from this city, and this nation, the happier I think I’ll be.”
Malwynn smiled in agreement, “I agree, but as you’ve said, whatever it takes sister. Whatever it takes.”
Umaryn felt the sting of her still sore throat, and dull ache of pain in her belly and felt that before this was all over, whatever it took would be horrible indeed.
Moving out of Maya and Usul’s two days later was physically easy, but spiritually difficult. Usul, despite his hard exterior, was the closest thing Malwynn and Umaryn had to a father figure since the death of Ellioth. Maya of course had welcomed the twins in warmly, and saying goodbye to her was painful.
“You’ll be safe wherever you go, right?” Maya asked them.
“Of course Maya,” Umaryn said with a smile. “We’re both bright, and with the extra money we’ve saved, and my brother’s new job with the army, we’ll be all set. Anything closer to the cliff is good right?”
Usul grunted, “Depends on how you look at it. The guillotines are near the cliff.”
Mal smiled awkwardly at the off color comment, “Well we plan on staying a good distance from those.”
“Smart,” Usul said simply before walking off into the kitchen. He’d said his goodbye.
Maya watched as her husband went into the kitchen, and made sure the door had swung shut behind him before speaking again. She leaned in close to the twins, and motioned for them to do the same, “Before you go, I wanted to tell you that when we were getting better from being sick, a man came here. He gave me a fright.”
The twins exchanged glances. Maya continued, “He was an official. Maybe a tax collector, maybe someone in the Queen’s Guild. A necromancer I think, though he had no dead in tow.”
“What did he want?” Umaryn asked innocently.
Maya looked around cautiously, as if the walls had ears, “He knew we were sick. He knew Usul and I were renting to two young people. He seemed off about it all too. As if something strange had happened, and he thought we were involved. Gave me bad dreams for days.”
Mal felt a chill in the room that he knew wasn’t there. All their plans could be coming unraveled if this little old lady had said the wrong things to this man at the door. “Was he wearing a purple robe?”
“Of course he was child. No one of importance in this nation goes without purple. I think he might have been an Inquisitor. Searching out the truth behind something. I can’t fathom why he’d think we were up to something here. Although he did say s
omething about the tax man not coming…”
“Oh I never did get to bat an eyelash at him for you. I guess you’ll just have to pay the regular taxes after all Maya, I’m sorry,” Umaryn said flirtatiously, trying to redirect the conversation.
Maya brightened, “Oh dear, the man collected the same amount as last year’s taxes. Saved us ten Crowns he did! I guess his visit wasn’t all that bad after all.”
The twins smiled and gave her warm hugs. Umaryn gave her a blessing as she let go of her tiny shoulders, “Be safe Maya. Maybe one day we can come back and enjoy a meal that isn’t followed by a terrible bout of sickness.”
“Let us hope for that. Maybe I will make my special turnip stew for you. It is Usul’s favorite. Very filling.”
The twins thanked her many times more, gathered the scant belongings they’d left in the home to make of show of leaving, and departed. They mounted horse and Gvorn, and with a wave over the shoulder, left for their new home, away from the elderly couple.
Several streets away, Umaryn spoke, “We are fucked. Proper fucked.”
Malwynn pretended not to hear her.
“Mal we are bent. If an Inquisitor is on to us, we are done. We should turn these animals straight to the rail station and buy ourselves a ticket south. Daris here we come.” Umaryn’s eyes were flush with erratic panic.
“This changes nothing. We may not have said the exact words, but we knew when we took him down we could draw Inquisitor attention. This is fucking Graben Umaryn. The capital city of the Amaranth Empire.” Malwynn guided Bramwell closer so he could speak in a quieter voice, “We’ve been murdering soldiers for weeks. Chopping their bodies up and hiding the bits in the trash, sister. We’ve been on this path since we arrived here, and nothing has changed. We do what we came here to do, or we die trying. I won’t let the memories of our father, mother, little sister, and I sure as hell won’t let the memory of the girl I loved haunt me for the rest of my unhappy days. I’m not afraid to die Umaryn. Not if you’re by my side when it happens.”
The Wrath of the Orphans (The Kinless Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
