Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  Katrin felt herself go pale and shook her head. She hadn’t thought about that at all.

  Menders sighed. “I will want you to let Franz have a look at you, but that doesn’t have to be right away.”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about a baby, my cycle is due,” Katrin whispered.

  “I’m not concerned about a baby, but about disease,” Menders answered gently.

  Oh gods, Katrin thought. I never even thought about it. I didn’t think about anything! What a fool!

  “Now, that’s enough for one night. I’m infinitely glad that you’re here and in one piece. You are not to fret yourself into melancholia over this,” Menders said, rising to his feet and offering her a hand up. “The world won’t end, little princess. Come here.”

  He put his arms around her and held her for a very long time. She wished that she could cry, but all the tears she’d been fighting back ever since leaving Ermand’s rooms seemed bottled up behind her eyes and in her throat, stinging both. She clung to him while he rocked back and forth and stroked her hair.

  “Now, a bath and bed,” Menders said, making himself sound cheerful. “Does wonders.”

  Katrin managed an unsteady smile and went off to the bathroom to run the tub. The spouting tap triggered the tears, and she began to cry.

  ***

  Borsen stood on the dark balcony outside the lounge, shamelessly eavesdropping on Menders’ and Katrin’s conversation. Normally he would never do such a thing but when Hemmett shoved Katrin through the door, her pallid face had alarmed him. He was determined to find out what had gone on and possibly skin Ermand Godson alive.

  He heard a window slide up almost silently. In a moment Hemmett was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, signaling for silence. They stood there together as Katrin explained to Menders that she hadn’t planned her defection, that it had been the device of Godson.

  “Menders – is it supposed to hurt?” The question, asked in a tiny voice, made Borsen nearly bite through his tongue with rage. Hemmett’s hand tightened on his shoulder so hard that it was almost painful.

  They waited while Menders comforted her and then Katrin went off for a bath. Menders sank down on the sofa and put his head in his hands.

  Borsen felt fury coursing through him. Yes, Katrin had been an idiot, but she hadn’t done anything more than most girls did at some point. To think that puffed up twit had hurt her and given her no pleasure after obviously planning to get into bed with her!

  Katrin started crying as the water ran. Menders got up and went toward his room.

  They moved silently to the drainpipe. Hemmett simply climbed over the balcony banister, hung by his hands, then dropped the rest of the way. Borsen prepared to shinny down the drainpipe. Hemmett shook his head emphatically, holding out his arms. Borsen stepped over the banister and dropped into Hemmett’s hands.

  A moment later they were on the street and able to talk.

  “I can manage a drainpipe shinny,” Borsen said.

  “And rip your hands apart like the last time you did?” Hemmett answered. “Save wear and tear.”

  They turned together to head toward the University and Student Quarter – and were face to face with Menders and Kaymar.

  Menders was expressionless. Kaymar’s eyes were like a snake’s.

  “You two go back inside,” Menders said sternly. “You are not to be involved in this. No discussion.”

  ***

  Kaymar lit a cigar as he and Menders stalked down the Avenue toward the University. The night was young and the end of the academic term was close. The students were definitely getting into a celebratory mood, with the taverns full to overflow and lots of drinking and carrying on in the street.

  Kaymar stuck his head into the Three Elks Tavern and saw Ermand Godson holding forth with an admiring crowd around him. He had his arm around a girl, who was obviously agog.

  “He’s in there,” Kaymar said, returning to Menders, who was waiting in the alley beside the building.

  Menders nodded.

  “Here, two florins to go and tell Ermand Godson that someone is waiting outside for him with a delivery,” Kaymar said to a waiter lounging by the kitchen door. “And ten florins to go back to work before your break is over and five more for keeping the door shut.”

  “Your servant sir!” the man replied cheerily, pocketing the coins and going inside. Moments later, Kaymar could see him in the main room of the tavern, whispering something to Godson.

  Menders receded into the shadows.

  Godson sauntered out the side door, looking around. He finally spied Kaymar standing well back in near-darkness and walked over.

  “It’s the bodyguard cousin,” Godson sighed. “Come to complain?”

  “Oh, it’s not that it at all,” Kaymar answered, turning on the charm, making his accent suddenly very uppercrust. He placed a hand against the tavern wall, leaning on it attractively. “Emila told me so much about your performance that I thought I would come and see if you’d be interested in me.”

  Godson obviously didn’t know whether to say that Katrin hadn’t been all that pleased or to preen himself. He was far too self-absorbed to admit he’d been less than scintillating in bed. He looked Kaymar up and down.

  “I just might at that,” he said unctuously.

  Kaymar smiled. Godson stepped close. Very close.

  Kaymar’s knee introduced itself to Godson’s testicles, dropping that particular young twit to the ground in a silent, agonized rush of involuntarily indrawn breath.

  Next thing Godson knew, the toe of Kaymar’s right foot was pressed against the spot where his testicles joined the rest of him. Kaymar was leaning over to smile in his face, his eyes glittering in the dim light.

  “You hurt her,” Kaymar said liltingly. “I don’t like that. Maybe I should just kick a little bit and let you find out what it’s like to be hurt right there.”

  Godson spluttered and gasped. Then he shrieked as the force that was Menders grabbed him by his shirt collar and ripped him up from the ground as if he was a rag doll.

  Menders was known for his collar twisting technique, guaranteed to produce terror, temporary dimming of vision and devastating loss of bowel control. Kaymar was pleased to see Menders was in fine form tonight.

  “You seem to have forgotten your privy training,” Menders hissed, his white eyes staring into Godson’s bulging orbs. “Such an educated gentleman too.” Menders gave the collar one last twist and then gripped Godson by the hair as he started to sag toward the ground.

  “Best stand on your own two feet,” Menders said in a low, terrible voice. “Slumping around while I hold your hair could end up leaving you without a scalp.”

  “Now, I don’t like rude little bastards who hurt young girls and leave them alone in strange neighborhoods at night. The young girl you hurt tonight is my daughter.”

  Menders shook Godson with all his strength before pulling him nose to nose again.

  “You think I’m just a rich merchant don’t you? I can assure you, I excel at many things. Can you guess what I’m really good at? I’m very good at killing people.”

  Godson gurgled and then fainted.

  Menders let the unconscious Godson fall into a pile of rubbish. He bent and sliced open Godson’s trousers, laying him bare for the world to see, then backed away, gagging at the stench.

  “Not much to write home to mother about. Poor Katrin, what a pathetic cretin she fell for,” Kaymar gasped, drawing hard on his cigar to deaden his sense of smell. “Ah – this should wake him up.”

  There was a reeking bucket of kitchen slops outside the tavern side door. Kaymar flung it into Godson’s face with pinpoint accuracy. The young man sputtered into consciousness to find Kaymar grinning into his face with all the warmth of an iceberg, his eyes bitterly cold, his knife held to Godson’s crotch.

  “Now, my very little man,” Kaymar said, pressing hard with what was actually the blunt edge of the knife, “I am telling you what you’re
going to do for the next year or so. You’re going to get up from here and go right back to your rooms, pack and run home to Mamma. You aren’t going to tell her that the young lady’s father and the bodyguard cousin taught you an important lesson tonight. You’re going to say that you don’t feel well and need a rest from university. You won’t say a word about our girl, to anyone, ever. You won’t come back here for over a year, or I’ll be waiting here for you. Did you know that you can survive your old man being cut off? Oh yes, just bandage the area well.”

  Kaymar pressed up cruelly with the blunt edge of his knife while Godson fainted from horror a second time.

  “Ugh,” Kaymar said, turning away from the stink of Godson’s fouled trousers immediately. “I have to get away from that reek or I’ll have a damned fit.”

  Menders couldn’t resist a well-placed kick in Godson’s left buttock. The bruise would last for months and be a reminder of a certain night every time Godson sat down. The two of them walked calmly down the alley and started down the Avenue.

  Kaymar lit a second cigar. His odd reaction to foul smells was probably close to making him faint. It had happened before.

  “All right, Cousin?” Menders asked.

  “I think I got away from it in time,” Kaymar replied, blowing a smoke ring. “I wish we could stay around to see Godson’s fawning friends discover him covered with fish heads with his shitty pants open and his pathetic old man hanging out.”

  “Just see it in your mind’s eye. That’s always far more amusing than the real thing. Such bastards, when they finally take a fall, don’t really have the friends everyone thinks they do. Guaranteed half the people in that tavern like to do something similar.” Menders was not looking nearly so grim as he had since Hemmett had burst into the house, frantic that he had lost Katrin.

  “Ah, Father Wisdom has spoken,” Kaymar laughed.

  ***

  Varnia heard Katrin finish her bath and poured out a glass of warmed milk, dropping in a pinch of ramplane powder and sweetening it with honey. She carried it to Katrin’s door and tapped, letting herself in.

  Katrin looked better, hot water having done its job of cleaning away the relics of her experience and soothing her sore muscles. She managed a smile.

  “Here, drink this. It’ll take away the rest of the soreness and send you to sleep,” Varnia said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. Katrin took the glass and had two big gulps.

  “Now, you’ll need another hot bath in the morning,” Varnia continued. “After that, go back to your regular bathing routine. No extra washing. You’ll be tempted, but you have to fight the urge or you’ll be washing all the time.”

  Katrin looked startled, as if Varnia had stated exactly what was in her mind. She’d wanted to run another bath as soon as she got into bed.

  Suddenly what Varnia must have experienced in the past became brutally clear to Katrin. Tears, already close, flooded to her eyes. Alone, the only female on that farm with those frightening half-brothers and an uncaring, callous father.

  Varnia knew what she was thinking.

  “You can get past this,” she said, taking the empty glass from Katrin. “But that will happen only if you let it. Dwelling on something that can’t be changed will poison your entire life. Menders taught me that. Sleep now, don’t spend more time crying. You’ll cry more in days to come, but not now. You need to rest and let your mind start moving on.” She smiled and rose, seeing to it that Katrin was comfortably settled on the pillows.

  Varnia went to the door, opening it to reveal Menders with his hand up, ready to knock. Varnia nodded to him and he smiled back, putting his hand on her shoulder for a moment before she went down the hall.

  Menders took Varnia’s place at the edge of Katrin’s bed. He straightened her long golden braid on the pillow and took her hand. He sat there silently for a while, until her eyelids began to droop, and then stood and bent to kiss her forehead.

  “Everything is all right – sleep well, little princess,” he whispered.

  “I’m so glad you said that,” Katrin breathed, almost asleep. “I love it on the nights you say that before I go to sleep.”

  Menders smiled.

  “I always say it. I’ve said it every night of your life, whether you are awake to hear me or not,” he replied. “Sleep now. It will be much better in the morning.”

  She was asleep by the time he closed her door.

  Simeridon, Artreya

  26

  Katrin’s Turn

  “I

  f I have to be afraid for Flori’s safety, no, I do not want to go,” Luntigré decided, leaning back against Hemmett’s chest. “I’m sorry for that, but I cannot take such a chance.”

  News of incidents of dark-skinned people being attacked and harassed in Simeridon had reached Samorsa. Other reports of people with dark skin being told not to visit Artreya during the annual Lunar Festival, a week long celebration of the spring conjunction of Eirdon’s two moons were also in the newsheets.

  “Sad as I am to say it, you would not be safe there – and you wouldn’t enjoy it if you were constantly fearful,” Hemmett sighed. He could have them travel in a private railway carriage and charter a boat to go over the sea to Artreya, but once in Artreya would they have to wear veils on the street to avoid harassment and worse?

  He was disgusted by the entire situation and more than ready to leave Artreya. Once they were at The Shadows again, visits from Luntigré and Flori would be simple to arrange.

  “Then that’s settled. Have things between you and Katrin thawed?” She looked at him closely.

  Hemmett didn’t answer.

  Things hadn’t thawed. He didn’t want them to. He was sorry Katrin had been hurt by Ermand Godson, but her actions leading up to the incident cut him to the bone. Running out with Godson was the last straw. She had to have known it would throw everyone into a panic.

  Kaymar had charged out into the street without his shoes to go after them – no laughing matter in a town where the streets were absolutely filthy and paved with uneven cobblestones. Ifor went after him with his shoes and finally caught up with him but by then the damage was done. Kaymar’s feet were still cut, bruised and battered and Doctor Franz was worried he’d picked up an infection.

  Having to go back to the house to tell Menders that Katrin was gone with Godson had been one of the worst moments of Hemmetts’ life. On first hearing the news, Hemmett thought Menders was going to pass out. He’d seen Menders in many moods and conditions during the last twenty years, but he’d never seen him terrified. It had lasted only a moment before Menders went into action, immediately organizing a search operation and keeping Varnia from racing out the door to wander around in the dark searching – but that moment had pierced Hemmett’s heart.

  It wasn’t that he was punishing Katrin by not speaking to her. Quite simply, he was afraid he would fly into a rage if she started arguing or excusing what she’d done. She had to have known her family would think Godson had kidnapped her. Hemmett was very slow to anger, like his father, but when he was pushed far enough, he had difficulty controlling himself.

  “Hemmett, she’s your sister,” Luntigré said softly.

  “Yes. Haven’t you ever been angry with your sister?”

  “Of course. And at times we didn’t speak. But for so long and when you are so close?”

  Hemmett sighed.

  “Darling, I’m afraid I’ll hit her,” he said bluntly. “If she starts to excuse what she did, I might just hit her. So I don’t talk to her.”

  Luntigré said nothing more.

  ***

  Hemmett rose from his seat on the train from Wenslas to Simeridon, gathered up his duffel bag and went to the carriage door, sliding it open and stepping onto the small platform. He wanted to be away and getting through the customs line before the crowd was finished with collecting their luggage, engaging porters and slowing the lines down to a crawl.

  He was tired and downhearted. His time with Luntigré had
been short and the journey tiring. He’d hoped to reach some sort of peace with his situation during that week but he was as conflicted as ever. He certainly wanted to see Borsen, Menders and the rest of the family but he dreaded seeing Katrin and speaking to her only when necessary. He also dreaded finding answers to certain correspondence he had initiated prior to leaving for Samorsa.

  He had made inquiries about taking another posting, sending letters to several high placed officers and to Commandant Komroff at the Mordanian Military Academy. He was sure one of them would be answered in the affirmative and the letter would be waiting for him when he returned.

  The train vented clouds of steam as the brakes squealed. Hemmett spotted Eiren standing by a pillar, her face solemn as the train pulled into the station. The similarity to Borsen meeting him on the same platform struck him – he was sure Eiren wasn’t down here looking at the trains.

  He swung down to as soon as it was safe and went to her. She returned his embrace warmly.

  “And why are you down here meeting trains?” Hemmett asked, keeping his tone light.

  “I want to speak with you, away from the house and the rest of the family,” she said bluntly. A little crease was showing at the inner edge of her left eyebrow, an indication that she was concerned and possibly annoyed.

  “I’ll have to go through Customs,” he reminded her.

  “I’m patient,” was her only response.

  He got through Customs with the usual forbearance and bribe, then shouldered his duffel and offered Eiren his arm.

  Seated in a nearby restaurant, coffee and pastries ordered, Eiren spoke directly.

  “I want to know if you’ve come to a point where you can begin to treat Katrin properly.”

  Hemmett raised his eyebrows slightly.