Blood Red (9781101637890)

by Lackey, Mercedes

  “Probably,” the Graf replied serenely. “So by no means are you to run off to add a skirt.”

  She laughed. “Then I am ready.”

  The Graf directed his salamanders to—well, do whatever it was that they did to enable him to speak through the fire to another Fire Master. She leaned forward, and suppressed another smile when the monocled gentleman peering out from amid the flames nearly lost his eyepiece in shock at her attire. But he was gentleman enough to say nothing, and she remained quiet while the Graf made introductions.

  Herr Bjorn Herbst, Master of the Berlin White Lodge, quickly got over her breeches as he quizzed her on her past Hunts. And just as quickly, he was satisfied. “I will be pleased to add you to our resources, Fraulein,” he said. “It will be good to have someone we may call upon if the Hunt goes past the bounds of the city.”

  She made a little bow. “And if it does, I shall be happy to assist.”

  With that, Herr Herbst’s florid face faded from the flames. “That went well,” the Graf remarked. “Better than I expected. Care to brave another?”

  Sensing this was another test, she smiled broadly. “As many as you care to,” she said.

  By the time the Graf confessed himself weary, she had spoken with around half a dozen Lodge Masters. All had at least come around to regarding her favorably by the time she finished speaking with them—but she knew that the Graf would not have been so foolish, or so unkind, as to attempt to put her in front of anyone who was likely to be outraged at the mere notion of a female Hunt Master. No, she suspected he had been carefully sounding the depths of his fellows, and had carefully picked only those he knew would be accepting. Anything else would have been a waste of her time, and theirs.

  “Well now,” he said, as he dismissed his salamanders and the fire went back to being a mere fire. “Are you regretting your wish to be of service outside of the Schwarzwald, or looking forward to it?”

  She hesitated, thinking about the question. “Both?” she said at last.

  “A reasonable answer.” He leaned forward and patted her hand where it rested on the arm of the chair. “I think, my dear, that I will sleep soundly tonight, even if you do not.”

  5

  IT was a restless night. Thoughts spun through her mind, keeping her wide awake for far too long. The bed seemed too warm, but when she threw off the covers, she quickly chilled, and found herself trying to get warm again. The night sounds seemed louder than usual. When she shut her windows, the room was too close. When she opened them, the breeze kept making the curtains move at unexpected moments.

  Rosa was a little surprised. It had been a long and exhausting day, and she really expected that she’d fall straight asleep. But her mind was turning like a wheel, thinking about how, suddenly, she was no longer a Hunt Master in a small Lodge in the remote Schwarzwald. Suddenly . . . she was known in Berlin. And Hamburg. And Munich, Salzburg and Zurich. And Brussels . . . and Paris and Milan—fortunately those Lodge Masters knew German, because she certainly hadn’t known French or Italian. It didn’t seem real, and yet, it was all too real, and now that she had time to think about it, entirely overwhelming. She was just a simple schoolmaster’s daughter from a little village in the forest! True, she had quite a number of successful Hunts behind her, but—how did that measure up against what these Lodge Masters had seen and done? They were all from great metropolises. Surely their experiences were far more sophisticated than anything she had seen!

  She tossed and turned, and could not get comfortable as her unease—and yes, fear—began to grow. How had she ever imagined she could present herself to these men as someone they would need?

  Until now these great cities were only places she had known on a map. And until now, she had thought that going to Romania, and helping out a tiny, tiny Brotherhood, was as far as she was ever going to go. She had assumed that she would go home, settle back in the Lodge, and that would be the end of that. She would return to her old paths, hunting out the dark things that crept into the forest, rooting out the predators before anyone in the villages of the Schwarzwald even knew they were there.

  She had not really had a chance to think about all this, because she had been preoccupied with the Graf’s tests. The other Lodge Masters hadn’t been real to her until she had seen them in the Graf’s fire, and spoken with them. When Gunther had asked her if she wanted to present herself to them—well, truth to tell, she really hadn’t ever thought about just who and what she was presenting herself to. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she must have been thinking of them as little more than glorified versions of Gunther, with, perhaps, a few more Elemental Mages than the twenty or so that lived at the Schwarzwald Lodge. Now that she was actually thinking about it, she realized that these men each must have as many as a hundred mages answering to them. Maybe more. And the cities they watched over were—huge. So big it made her head spin.

  She stared up into the darkness as it all finally settled into place. What had she done? What had she agreed to? How had she dared to put herself forward like that? She had said that she wanted this, but now that she had been given it . . .

  I’m afraid, she realized, recognizing that cold, hard knot that suddenly appeared in her middle. The bed that had been too warm now seemed like ice. She pulled the covers up to her chin, shivering. And it wasn’t just the enormity of her hubris that frightened her. It was that something she had been counting on to help her all this time was going to be cut right out from beneath her.

  My one good defense will be gone soon. Because she wasn’t going to be the underestimated girl anymore, not once she actually started Hunting outside the remote forest.

  It would be sooner now, rather than later, that she would have a reputation outside the Schwarzwald. Possibly far outside the Schwarzwald. Rather than being ignored as an inconsequential female, when the enemy saw her, he would know her for what she was. The tales of the female Hunt Master would spread, and not just to the other Lodge Masters. Everything that walked in the shadows would learn who she was too—and know to watch for her. The distinct advantage of surprise would be gone. Whoever she faced would know she was not what she appeared to be, and would know not only that she was a Hunt Master, but that he could expect unconventional attacks and tactics from her.

  When she had told her mentor that she wanted this—she hadn’t considered that aspect of it. Now she could hardly believe that she hadn’t thought it all through clearly. Somewhere in the back of my mind I must have assumed everything would go on the same. That no one would ever know who I was or what I could do, that there was no such thing as a reputation. Just like at the train. I would just walk in, be ignored, do the unexpected and walk away unscathed. She took a deep, shaky breath. How incredibly stupid of me.

  Perhaps it had been because the Graf seemed to think so highly of her—after all, he had tested her personally, and as far as she could tell, he had been impressed. Was that what had made her so absurdly overconfident? It must have been.

  It is impossible not to believe in what the Count believes in. And somehow he believes in me . . .

  But now she was terrified that his confidence, and hers, had been tragically misplaced. And it was too late to back out now. Or at least, too late to do so without making a mockery, not only of herself, but of the entire Schwarzwald Bruderschaft. She’d tar everyone’s reputation, but most especially that of her beloved mentor, Gunther, for Gunther was the one most directly responsible for making her what she was today.

  It was bad enough that he had made her into a hunter, when most Earth Masters—and almost all the female Earth Mages she knew—were not fighters, but healers, nurturers, people who cleansed the forest, not with weapons, but with their gentle magics. He’d be questioned for not forcing her into the “proper” role, no matter what her talents actually were. He’d be castigated for making a mere female a Hunt Master. Just as bad, no one would ever trust another female to be a
Hunt Master for—well, a very long time.

  She felt sick. No matter what she did now, she was in trouble, and so was everyone who believed in her.

  She wished, lying there in the dark, that she could take it all back, until finally the sleep that had escaped her ambushed her in the darkness.

  The Graf let her sleep longer than usual the next day; perhaps he knew that she was going to lie there, sleepless, for a very long time. Had he guessed she was wrestling with regrets and second thoughts? Did he know how frightened she was, once it all came home to her? As she breakfasted, she thought that surely, he must. He was one of the wisest men she had ever met. And yet, when she finally joined him on the veranda, everything seemed the same. He greeted her as usual, and invited her to join him for another cup of coffee.

  And the view over the gardens was just as peaceful as ever. Last night, both the interviews and the restless fears and doubts, seemed all part of a dream, or a nightmare, and his own commonplace greeting merely reinforced the unreality.

  She sat down, and the two of them sipped in silence for a while. Birds sang in the bushes nearby, and the dreamy peace and gentle warmth of the sun on the veranda was no different from every other morning she had spent with him. Finally, she asked, apprehensively, “So . . . when do people start asking for me?”

  She almost expected him to ask what on earth she was talking about. She’d have been relieved to discover it had all been some sort of dream born of an overactive imagination and perhaps something that had disagreed with her at dinner.

  But no. The Graf chuckled, and glanced over at her, a great deal of amusement in his wise old eyes. “Who knows?” he replied with a shrug that barely creased the shoulders of his elegant coat. “First, they will have to get used to the idea of a female Hunt Master. Then, they will have to have a situation they cannot control with only the resources of their own Lodges. Then they will have to nerve themselves up to asking for help. Possibly tomorrow. Possibly never. Probably at some point in between.”

  Rosa felt a sudden sense of mingled relief and deflation. Had she been tormenting herself all night for nothing, then? Relief was uppermost. “Oh—” she said.

  “Well, really, Rosa, how often does the Bruderschaft encounter something truly evil that requires all their forces?” the Graf said, reasonably. “Usually you are handling the sorts of menaces that a single person, or two, can dispatch. And the Schwarzwald, by its very nature, tends to attract dark things. It is the same in the great cities, except for scale. Not that the evils are greater—just the numbers of them are greater, but so are the numbers of magicians who counter them. What do all of you at the Lodge do most of the time?”

  She had to laugh weakly. Now that she thought of it . . . well, no wonder her reputation hadn’t gone much beyond the forest. “We hunt for lost children and sometimes lost adults. We track down dangerous beasts and kill them if we must. We see to it that the good creatures of the forest are nurtured. Really, combative magic is secondary to what we do.”

  “There, you see?” The Graf nodded wisely. “It is much the same in the cities. The men of the Lodge remain alert for magical danger, but for the most part they go about their business. They tend to their professions, they enjoy their families, they do all the things that any man or woman does. Thanks be to God, the great evils do not appear very often, even in the cities. No, you will go back to the Lodge, and back to your usual duties, probably for quite some time.”

  After all her worries and tossing and turning last night, that seemed a very attractive proposition. A little bit of a letdown but not nearly so much as it was a relief. Last night, she wanted nothing so much as to run back to the forest, to Gunther and the rest, and go back to being quite unknown.

  And it might be the Graf was giving her a little hint that she should do that. “Well then,” she replied, putting her cup down. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and you have been unreasonably hospitable to me. When would you like me to complete my journey and move on, back to my people?”

  “It depends on when you get homesick, my dear,” the Graf replied, and reached over to pat her hand. “Our first days were mostly work for both of us, but I find that I am enjoying having the company of an intelligent female about, one from whom I must hide nothing, and one who is not either utterly dependent on my attention, or scheming how much she can get from me. I have many male friends and protégés, but you are the first female I could call friend since my dear sister died.”

  Rosa stared at him in a great deal of astonishment.

  “What, you thought because I am wealthy and have a title, I live a life from the ending of a fairy tale?” he said, his smile turning a little cynical. “Oh, do not mistake me, I do enjoy life a very great deal! But everything in my life that is important to me is bound up with my friends and fellows of my Lodge, and the management of my estate. The rest—” he waved his hand “—idle pastimes. Pleasurable ones, to be sure, but idle pastimes. Not nearly as much intellectual stimulus as I would like, and I will tell you the truth, my dear, I am far, far too old to successfully lead a Hunt anymore. My days as a Hunt Master are behind me.”

  “You have not needed to be one—” she ventured.

  “Because I always knew I could count on the Bruderschaft,” he replied, and turned his gaze out toward the distant orchard at the end of the formal garden. “Truth to tell, I was planning on calling on the Bruderschaft over the matter of Durendal, until you yourself neatly solved that problem for me. I might have been able to track and confront him, but Fire against Air is a chancy proposition, and even with the support of my Lodge, things could have gone badly for us. No, I would have needed you of the Schwarzwald.”

  “And we would have come,” she said, instantly. “I know Papa would never have let you down. But is your Lodge so small, then?”

  “It is—that is, there are many in the Lodge, but few who have any great power.” He shrugged. “For some reason, the only family here in Munich that has ever produced strong Masters is my own. My sister, who died a few years ago, was a Master in her own right, and married a Master in Stuttgart, and relocated there—her husband is a fine fellow, a brilliant scholar who teaches at the university. Their eldest son, my nephew, is not yet ready to leave his studies there and join me here.” He put his cup down and waved off the servant. “I will be glad when he does. It will be much better to have another strong Master here. Much safer for everyone.”

  She wondered now why he had never married. Perhaps he had not found a woman gifted with Elemental Magic with whom he formed a bond?

  “Fortunately, the lad is both a Fire Master and a good steward to whom I will leave everything. I need not alter my style of living merely to create an heir.” He laughed then. “And I had none of the trouble of having to raise him myself!”

  She set her own cup aside. “Children can be tedious little things,” she observed with humor. “I know I certainly was.”

  The Graf gave her a little quirk of a smile. “I have very little patience for them, I fear. Another reason why I never married. There’s a blessing for you! Really, I am quite a lucky man, I have had all of the advantages of having a wife with none of the troubles and inconveniences. And when an inamorata gets tiresome, I get another, without having to be Bluebeard and conceal a room full of bodies!”

  She had to laugh out loud at that. She was quite beyond being shocked by him saying such things. Truth to tell, she found it as funny as he did.

  As he signaled to the servant waiting patiently behind them to pour them both another cup, she considered when she should return home. “Was there more testing of my skills you wished to do, Uncle?” she asked. “Or more lessons for me?” On the one hand, although she was really, truly enjoying the pleasures of the Graf’s estate and wealth, on the other . . . she missed her “Papa.”

  “Oh, you could use plenty of polishing, if only to make the manners of a great lady second
nature rather than something you need to think about,” he replied. “But you could practice that all on your own. I am greatly enjoying your company, and . . .” he thought for a moment. “What would you say to inviting Gunther here, and having some of the others of my Lodge from the city join us for a time? I have not hosted a gathering that was merely social for far too long.”

  She felt her eyes widening. “That would be—quite amazing, Uncle. I have never taken part in such a gathering.”

  “Well, there will be all sorts of people here. The house can hold quite a number.” His eyes twinkled at the understatement. “If this were a ‘proper’ gathering for someone of my rank, it would be nothing but boring members of my own class, but fortunately it will not be anything of the sort. I shall have tradesmen, professional folk, farmers, even an entertainer or two as my guests. You needn’t try to be anything other than yourself, and they will all be mages, so there will be no need to watch your speech. I find these gatherings highly entertaining, and if it had not been that I had my—lady-friend—installed here, and it would have been impossible to for them to be at ease around her, or for her to restrain her shock at such a mixed and mismatched company, I would have had one long ago.”

  Rosa beamed at him. “In that case, oh, please! I should like that above all things!”

  “I hope you will, my dear.” There was something odd about the way he said that. She wondered what surprise he was about to spring on her this time.

  It seemed that this, too, would be another test.

  Rosa stood in front of the wardrobes and stared at the contents in dismay. Until now her clothing selection had been simple: either what she always wore, or her one good gown. And she had greatly enjoyed trying on all the wonderful things she had “inherited” for the fittings. But she was expected to tell her maid what she would want to wear to greet the incoming guests and she had absolutely no idea what to tell her.