by Jon Skovron
“You ain’t changed that much, Rose.” He tried to sound confident. In control. “It ain’t like you’re going to kill your own brother.”
She finally looked at him then, and there was something like pity in her eyes. But her voice remained distant. Aloof. “It’s true, Mick. I won’t kill you. Not even when you beg me to.”
“Here we are!” The ragged woman grinned as she pulled a large handsaw out of the forge. The metal teeth glowed almost white. “All ready for you.”
Nettles stared at the saw, transfixed. “Can I confess something to you, brother? This began as vengeance for Filler. I guess hanging around a Vinchen rubbed off on me a little. Although maybe not enough. Because what I’m about to do next goes way beyond vengeance. My Vinchen friend wouldn’t approve. And neither would Filler. Kind of ironic, I suppose. That the one person who might have stopped me from doing this is the person you killed.”
“I’m sorry!” wailed Mick. “I didn’t realize he was that important to you!”
She shook her head. “You still don’t understand. This isn’t about him anymore. What happens next is just for me. The real me, I reckon. The one that’s been hiding inside all this time, just waiting for a reason to be let out. The me that’s more like you than I ever wanted to admit.”
She looked down at the chain in her hands. “Filler made this for me. And after today, I won’t deserve it.” She hung it up on one of the pegs fixed to the leather wall. “Not the right tool for the job anyway.” Then she took the still-glowing saw from the ragged woman and walked over to Mick.
“Please, Rose…” His face was twisted up and he was so scared, he could barely get the words out. “Please, you can have Paradise Circle. I’ll go. I’ll leave right now and you’ll never see me again.”
“Do you remember all those times Dad raped Mom?” She was so close now that he could hear the quiet hiss of the heated saw. “Do you remember when you raped me?”
“Just the once!” he said shrilly. “I never did it again!”
“Of course not. Because that’s when I finally went to Jix and told him what a monster you were.” She paused, as if considering something. “Maybe I ought to thank you for that.”
A tiny burst of hope bloomed in Mick’s chest. “Sure!”
She shook her head. “Nah. I don’t think so.”
The screams that came from the smithy tent outside Gunpowder Hall lasted a long time. But no one was bludgeon enough to go near. Not even the imps.
Mick the Sick was abandoned outside the Hole, the local name for the police garrison in the center of Paradise Circle. He was naked. His arms had been sawed off at the elbows, and his legs had been sawed off at the knees. All four limbs had been carefully cauterized so he wouldn’t bleed to death, and bandaged to reduce the risk of infection. His tongue had been torn out by searing-hot pliers. The word justice had been carved into his chest.
He lay there on the front steps of the garrison, staring into space, shaking uncontrollably. The imps did not seem eager to immediately collect him.
Deadface Drem had begun his reign with a series of murders that concluded with Jix the Lift found strangled to death with his own guts. Before him, Jix the Lift began his reign by drowning Yorey Satin in a vat of his own whiskey.
When word spread of what had happened to Mick, every true wag of the neighborhood understood that this was a declaration.
The reign of the Black Rose of Paradise Circle had begun.
22
Lady Merivale Hempist stared down at the unconscious form of Lord Rixidenteron Pastinas. He wasn’t wearing his darkened glasses or his charming smirk. He would have seemed almost innocent, if not for the fact that he still held a curious dual-bladed throwing weapon in his hand.
When Merivale blew the whistle she had stolen from him the day before, he had stumbled into a large trunk full of Nea’s clothes and personal effects before he fell. The ruckus had woken Nea, and she was now battering Merivale’s ears with semi-coherent yet very insistent questions. Merivale ignored her and continued to look between Rixidenteron and the whistle. Far more interesting than any of Nea’s questions was the one Merivale currently pondered. Why would he purposefully create something he knew was harmful to him? She knew that’s what he had done even before she had used the whistle on him, based on the combined information she had gleaned from Nea and Hume. This curious choice of his was something she had been thinking about for some time, yet still did not have sufficient information to answer yet. It was an enigma that kept Lord Pastinas alive, at least for now. Merivale was not one to make irreversible decisions before she had full command of all the pertinent facts.
Leston burst into the room, his white dressing gown flapping around his bare legs. “What in all hells is going on?”
Questions from Nea could be safely ignored, but questions from her prince must be answered. And yet, she was not authorized to tell him most of what he would need to know in order to understand what had just transpired. This might be a compelling enough reason to finally bring him into the fold.
“I’m afraid I can’t divulge the details at this time, Your Highness,” she said calmly. “For which I sincerely apologize. Suffice it to say, the ambassador’s life was in danger. I have mitigated that danger, at least temporarily.”
“Danger from whom?”
Merivale nodded to the unconscious Lord Pastinas.
“No, that can’t be right. There must be some mistake or misunderstanding.” Leston’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you mean, you can’t divulge the details? On whose orders?”
Finally the right question. “One who outranks you, Your Highness.”
“But my father has hardly spoken to anyone in years,” objected Leston.
“That is true, Your Highness.”
His eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. “Mother.” He spun on his heels and left the room.
Merivale turned to Nea. “If you’ll excuse me, Ambassador.”
“Lady Hempist!”
She once again ignored Nea as she stepped out into the hallway, where she found Hume patiently waiting for her. “Please find some means of securing Lord Pastinas. I’m afraid it remains to be seen whom we will encounter when he wakes.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She began to walk down the hallway after Leston.
“Lady Hempist, please wait!” Nea had come out into the hallway. She wore a long yellow robe that was just transparent enough to show the outline of her lithe form in the gaslit hallway. Merivale hoped she could introduce some Aukbontaren fashion into the palace. Once political tensions had begun to ease, of course.
“Yes, Ambassador?”
“What happened here?”
“I’m afraid this is an internal matter, Ambassador. I hope you understand.”
“But it was my life in danger.”
“My sincerest apologies,” said Merivale. “Although I feel compelled to point out, it was I who saved your life. So if you would be so kind as to now indulge me for a short time, I promise I will work diligently to get you at least a portion of the answers you seek. Now, I’m afraid I really must be going.”
She bowed and left the ambassador staring after her. Things were unraveling quickly. Her cover was blown to both the prince and the ambassador. It was unlikely they would believe her to be a simple scheming lady of the court now. Merivale felt that the appropriate response to this notion was probably chagrin, or frustration, or even panic. But all she felt was a quiet delight, as she always did when a dark secret came boiling to the surface.
She found Leston at the door to the empress’s chambers. Kurdem stood blocking his way with an expression at once regretful and resolute.
“Drown it all, Kurdem, I must see her at once!” said Leston.
“I’m afraid the empress is asleep and not to be disturbed,” said Kurdem.
Merivale swept into the space between them. “Now, Kurdem, you and I both know that isn’t true. Why, it’s only shortly after midnight. The em
press never sleeps more than a few hours a night. It’s much too early for her to have retired.”
“Lady Hempist…” Kurdem looked hesitant.
That was all the opening she needed. “Come now. Any disagreeable results, I will claim full responsibility.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded. “As you wish, my lady.” He opened the door and stepped aside.
“Now, Your Highness,” began Merivale. “I suggest that you not just—”
But Leston had already stormed past her through the doors.
Merivale gave Kurdem a wry smile. “Impulsiveness is part of his charm. So I’m told.” Then she followed after him.
They found Empress Pysetcha seated at a large writing desk, a stack of papers spread out in front of her. As soon as Leston’s footsteps sounded in the room, she smoothly gathered them up and slid them into a drawer without turning around.
“Now, Kurdem,” she said as she began to turn. “I asked that I not…” She trailed off when she saw her son and Merivale standing before her. She made no show of surprise, however. “Good evening, Leston. It’s rather late. I’m surprised to see you up.” She nodded to Merivale. “And good evening to you, Lady Hempist.”
Merivale curtsied in her dressing gown, but Leston was too worked up for courtesies.
“You have been keeping things from me, Mother!” he said.
“Yes, dear,” she agreed. “Parents do that.”
“I’m no longer a child.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “And other than age, what makes you believe this to be true?”
“What?” He was brought up short. “Well…”
“As far as I can tell, you have done very little to indicate that you have any interest in the adult concerns of running the empire.”
“But Your Majesty,” Merivale chided gently. “What about his bold alliance with the ambassador of Aukbontar?”
Pysetcha sniffed. “One look at his face when he introduced her made it clear to me that he was motivated more by schoolboy ardor than progressive political strategy.”
“But what else motivates a man except money and sex, Your Majesty?” asked Merivale. “They are simple creatures with simple wants.”
“Nonsense, Merivale,” said Pysetcha. “They can be motivated by loyalty, honor, and a sense of righteousness, just as easily as a woman.”
“That has not been my experience, Your Majesty,” said Merivale cheerfully. “But of course, I defer to your wisdom in this, as in all things.”
“Oh?” A dangerous edge came into the empress’s voice. “And is that why you chose to ignore my wishes concerning the safety of my son, and brought him here?”
“An event has transpired, Your Majesty, which I believe necessitated it.”
“Such as?”
“The Shadow Demon has revealed himself.”
“And?” Pysetcha looked at her intently.
“It is as we feared, Your Majesty.”
A look of genuine sorrow broke through the empress’s calm exterior. “I am sorry to hear that.”
Throughout this exchange, the prince had been looking back and forth between the two women with a bafflement that slowly transformed into exasperation. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?”
Merivale raised an eyebrow questioningly at Pysetcha. The empress returned her gaze for a moment, then looked at her son.
“I have kept things from you for your protection. But now it seems we are reaching the stage where your ignorance could prove more dangerous than the truth.”
“What dangerous information could you possibly know all the way out here, this far from the palace?” asked Leston.
“People assumed I left the palace because I couldn’t take the stress of politics. I let them think that because it was advantageous to do so. The real reason I came out here was to work away from the watchful eyes of the biomancers.”
“You’re afraid of biomancers?” Leston looked genuinely puzzled. “I mean, they’re creepy, yes. Especially that Chiffet Mek. And I’ve learned from Lord Pastinas that they have done unspeakable things. But ultimately, they still serve us.”
The empress shook her head. “They serve the emperor, and him alone, for better or worse. Long ago, when he fell in love with me, he commanded them to make him younger so he could father a son with me. They knew what it would do to him. What he would eventually become if they meddled with his lifespan in such a way. But biomancers rely upon the emperor for their moral compass, having long ago abandoned their own during the course of their dark studies. So they did not question the commands of the emperor, even at the detriment to his own health and the health of the empire. Now the emperor is a lost and feeble thing, and without his guidance, the biomancers are more bold and reckless—more paranoid and power hungry—than they have been since the time of the Dark Mage.”
“I hadn’t realized it was that bad,” admitted Leston. “But what does any of this have to do with Rixidenteron?”
“Lady Hempist, if you would kindly fill him in while I finish this paperwork. I’m afraid it can’t wait.” She then took the stack of paper from her drawer and began to work on it once again.
“We still don’t have all the facts yet, Your Highness,” Merivale told the prince. “But what we do know is that the Council of Biomancery were the ones who set Rixidenteron as the legitimate heir to the Pastinas estates. Then his grandfather died under suspicious circumstances. That made me take notice. Since Rixidenteron’s arrival at the palace, he has met with several of the council members on a regular basis. After watching him then work his way into your confidences, I began to suspect a plot against you. That is when I involved myself directly.”
“So your whole pursuit of marriage was a ruse?” asked Leston.
“Flirting with Lord Pastinas has been one of the more enjoyable tasks I’ve been assigned in recent years, and should a more intimate relationship have been feasible, I wouldn’t have any compunctions about it. But you are correct in saying that I had no intention of actually marrying him.”
“But… you thought the biomancers might want him to kill me? That seems like a bit of a leap.”
“Well, I first assigned Hume to watch him, and—”
“Wait, Hume works for you?”
“For Her Majesty.” Merivale nodded to the empress, who continued to work intently on her stack of paper.
The prince shook his head, as if to clear it of something, then turned back to Merivale. “Go on.”
“Thank you, Your Highness. Hume reported that Lord Pastinas was sometimes missing from his bed at night, and would return just after dawn, looking dazed and exhausted before falling back to sleep. As I began tracking these events, I noticed they coincided with a string of brutal murders that had begun plaguing the city. The so-called Shadow Demon murders. All the victims were commoners. Artisans, farmers, barkeeps. The only common link between them was that they were all members of an organization I had been working with called the Godly Naturalists.”
“An organization of commoners?” asked Leston. “Like a guild?”
“More like a political movement,” said Merivale. “They believed the biomancers were perverting the natural world too much and that Emperor Martarkis was too old and weak to stop them. The aim of the Godly Naturalists was to replace the existing emperor with someone they deemed had the moral fortitude to put the biomancers back in their place.”
“You aligned yourself with traitors to the imperial throne?” asked Leston.
“I suppose.” Merivale shrugged. “Although they were not traitors in the strictest sense because the person they deemed most worthy is you. In their minds, your father’s reign has been unnaturally extended by the biomancers and it is time for you to take the throne.”
“So they wanted my father to abdicate?”
“Don’t be naive, my son,” said Pysetcha, putting her papers away. “The biomancers would never allow such a thing. They have grown fond of their power and freedom to purs
ue their experiments in any way they see fit. They will maintain the current status quo for as long as they can.”
“And how long is that?” asked Leston. “How long can they keep my father alive?”
Merivale gazed steadily into his eyes. “We have no idea, Your Highness.”
“So…” Leston looked from Merivale to his mother, then back to Merivale. “These people, these Godly Naturalists, want to assassinate my father so that I can take the throne.”
“It is the most expedient option, Your Highness,” said Merivale.
Leston’s forehead furrowed, as if he was in pain. “Then, to protect my father, Rixidenteron was sneaking out at night and killing them?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” said Merivale. “But as usual with biomancers, the truth was far more complicated. You see, the more I got to know Lord Pastinas, the more I began to suspect that he was acting under duress. I wondered if perhaps they had some leverage over him. And I do think that’s true. But now I think it’s even more complicated than that. Because either Lord Pastinas is better at playing the fool than anyone I’ve ever met, or he isn’t actually aware of his own nocturnal activities.”
“You think the biomancers are controlling him somehow while he sleeps?”
“It’s only a theory,” said Merivale. “One I began to consider after Nea confided in me the details of their encounter with the biomancer assassins at the Call to Arms Inn, and in particular the conversation between Lord Pastinas and a man named Brackson. During this exchange, Brackson admitted to working with the biomancers and intimated that they had even more control over Rixidenteron than he knew. This Brackson then blew on a whistle that Nea claimed she could not hear but that brought Rixidenteron to his knees. That final detail, at least, has now been verified, since it was how I subdued Rixidenteron and saved the ambassador’s life.”
