The Severed Realm

by Michael G. Manning

  Better that than the truth, thought Rose. “I can’t talk now. Just teleport straight to my rooms tonight. I will need to fill you in regarding the plan for tomorrow.”

  Karen smirked, then winked at her. “As you wish.” Then she teleported away.

  Closing the door, Rose stood inside for moment. A million things passed through her mind, but she couldn’t focus on any of them. “Tea,” she told herself at last.

  Filling the kettle and setting it over the hearth was more difficult than usual, but by the time it was ready, she was shaking so badly that she spilled the hot water on her wrist. Hissing in pain, she dropped the kettle and stumbled backward, tripping over a chair and falling to her knees.

  It wasn’t her first time using a knife, or even a sword. Over the years she had been forced to defend herself on several occasions, but this was the first time she had killed a man in cold blood. Rolling onto her back, she held up her hands, studying them. She was still trembling, and she thought she saw small amounts of blood still trapped beneath her nails.

  She lay there for a long time.

  Chapter 32

  When a knock finally sounded on her door, Rose was still lying on the floor. It had been at least an hour. She didn’t really feel any better, but at least her heart was no longer racing. She got to her feet slowly, letting the habits of a lifetime guide her feet and hands. Tyrion stood outside the door when she opened it.

  He took one look at her attire and grinned. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’m not really in the mood right now.”

  “Come inside,” she told him, standing away to allow him to enter.

  He did, and she took his hand, leading him toward the bedroom. A smirk grew on his face. “I suppose if you insist,” he said drolly. His expression changed when he saw the state of her boudoir. “By the gods!” he exclaimed.

  There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the bed, and a large pool of it was congealing around the body at the foot of her bed. “I had no idea your tastes were so…exotic. Was he a friend of yours?”

  “Business partner,” answered Rose, her voice numb.

  “I’m guessing he overcharged you,” responded Tyrion dryly.

  “Can you get rid of him?” she asked, too tired for banter.

  Tyrion stared down at her for a moment, then sighed. “I’m not in the business of disposing of bodies. I’ve already cleaned up one mess for you.”

  Rose didn’t answer, looking over the scene with dead eyes.

  “Fine,” said Tyrion. Moving over to the corpse, he lifted her soiled dress and examined it. “What in the world were you doing? It looks like he was stabbed to death by a deranged child.”

  “He wouldn’t die,” she explained.

  “Where did you stab him first?” asked the archmage, but then drew his own conclusion. “Under the arm here? Your blade wasn’t long enough.”

  Rose shrugged.

  “You barely nicked his heart. That’s why he took so long,” continued Tyrion. “If you had gone under the other arm, it would have worked better.”

  “I’m right-handed.”

  He pointed at his shoulder. “Then a downward strike here, between the clavicles.”

  “He might have seen me, then.”

  Tyrion pursed his lips. “A valid point. Next time just stab him in the kidney. It won’t kill him instantly, but the pain is so great he won’t be able to fight.”

  Rose nodded mutely and turned away, heading for the door.

  “Wait!” protested Tyrion. “What about your things?”

  “You can get rid of anything that’s stained—the bed, the furniture, I don’t care anymore.” She closed the door.

  When Tyrion emerged from her bedroom ten minutes later, she was drinking tea. She offered him a cup, but he declined. “Are you alright?” he asked, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

  “No,” she replied. “But I’m functional.”

  “If you’d like my advice—” he began.

  She cut him off, “No.”

  Tyrion’s expression soured, but he gave up on the idea. Moving toward the door, he announced, “I have other places to be.”

  “Can you heat water?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Can you heat water?” she repeated.

  He gazed at her suspiciously. “As in for tea?”

  She nodded. “Something like that.”

  “I can burn a man to ashes in seconds. Warming up a kettle is nothing,” he responded.

  He took a step toward her still-hot kettle, but she waved him off. “Not now. I just wanted to know. You can leave,” she told him.

  Bewildered and muttering under his breath, he left. “Strangest woman I’ve ever known.”

  ***

  Rose appeared that evening and, as promised, she had two women and a large copper tub with her. The look on my face made it clear that I thought she’d lost her mind. “I’m not letting you bathe me.”

  “Fine,” said Rose. “Lillith and Janice have plenty of experience. I’ll wait outside.”

  Her two accomplices were busily moving in and out, carrying buckets of steaming water to fill the tub. They had a businesslike air about them, and their rugged shoulders and strong backs made it apparent they had spent their lives handling difficult labor. I didn’t fancy stripping in front of them, either.

  “I can bathe myself,” I protested.

  Rose nodded. “Do a thorough job or I’ll turn you over to their tender mercies.” Lillith chuckled evilly at Rose’s remark.

  They carried in countless buckets of steaming water, and I wondered how they had gotten it all down here. My cell was on the fourth and lowest level, so carrying it all by hand would have been an epic chore, even for such sturdy women as Rose’s companions.

  The obvious conclusion was that one of my wizardly jailors had heated it for them. Probably Conall, I assumed. Gareth and Tyrion weren’t that sympathetic.

  When they were done filling the tub they left soap and towels, then stepped out, Rose following in their wake. She returned a moment later with Gareth standing behind her. “You can’t leave him alone,” said the surly archmage.

  “What do you think I’ll do, drown myself?” I asked him, exasperated.

  “That’s one possibility,” he agreed. “In any case, prisoners can’t be left alone with contraband.” Then he leaned close and whispered in my ear, “You hang tomorrow. Use your time wisely. Your son and I will give you your privacy today.”

  Shocked, I watched him leave. Did he really just say that? “Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  “What did he say?” asked Rose.

  “They won’t be watching,” I answered. “Take that however you want.”

  She flushed, then went to the side of the room and sat down.

  I watched her, feeling awkward. “Can’t you at least turn around?”

  Rose smiled faintly. “Whatever for? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “I’m not Dorian,” I growled.

  “You realize that Elise and I both bathed you while you were ill a few months ago,” she informed me, a malicious mirth in her tone.

  “I thought it was just Elise and Penny.”

  “And Alyssa, and Elaine…” She paused. “Oh, and Lynaralla, Irene, Moira, my daughter Carissa, Angela. I think there were a few more, but it’s hard to recall everyone.”

  I goggled at her, stunned. “What did you do, invite the castle staff as well?”

  Rose covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed politely. “Of course. We made quite an event of it. It was the most humorous thing to happen since that band of comedy players visited Washbrook.”

  I knew she was putting me on by then. “I’m sure there were lots of puns about my ‘wizard’s staff’ as well.”

  Her expres
sion switched to one of pity. “It’s more of a wand, dear, let’s be honest.”

  Pretending at outrage, I turned around and began to remove my dirty clothing. “It’s a staff,” I insisted.

  “Whatever makes you feel better, Mordecai,” she remarked. “We all have little lies we tell ourselves.”

  Amused, I stepped into the tub and lowered myself into water that was almost too hot for comfort. Almost. A long sigh escaped from my lips as the heat soaked into muscles that had been cramped and sore from a week spent sleeping on a cold stone bench. The thought of dying tomorrow seemed a distant worry.

  Lathering and scrubbing, I washed away the sweat and grime, but when I started to wash my hair, I felt Rose’s hands on my shoulders. “Let me,” she said softly.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested, but she had already stolen the soap. The next few minutes were a delight as she massaged my scalp, and after she rinsed my hair with a fresh bucket, she told me to lean forward.

  Scrubbing my back was completely unnecessary, and it caused a host of reactions in me, but thankfully the water was opaque with soap by then. Gareth’s words kept returning to my mind.

  Rose didn’t linger at it, though, and she surprised me again when she reached into her basket and brought out a razor. The edge glinted dangerously in the orange light cast by the lantern. “I know what you are thinking,” she informed me.

  By all the dead gods, I hope not! “What’s that?” I asked nervously.

  “That it’s too dark for you to shave,” she replied. “And that you need a mirror.”

  I nodded immediately. “You read my mind.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to worry. I’m very experienced. In spite of his skill with a sword, Dorian was forever cutting himself, so most of the time I was his barber.”

  That made a perverse sort of sense, though I wondered if it was strictly true. While Dorian had been hopeless at lying, he hadn’t been above feigning something like that to spend more time with his wife. I resolved not to reveal his secret. Even though he had passed on, I would keep his trust.

  And what would he think about your situation now? my inner voice asked. Shut up, I told it. Sometimes my inner voice is an asshole.

  Cold steel touched my throat, and then Rose’s breath tickled my ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The flinch that resulted from that might well have slit my throat, if she hadn’t been holding the back of the razor to my skin. Somewhat annoyed, I spoke up, “I wasn’t nervous before, but now you have me worried.”

  She laughed and then began applying lather to my chin. When she brought the razor back this time, she was all business. “Keep still.”

  Her strokes were smooth and sure. Something occurred to me then, and I wanted to warn her not to shave off my nearly recovered goatee, but I didn’t dare speak, or even swallow. I feared she might shave off my Adam’s apple. Within a few minutes she was done, and when I felt my chin everything was as it should be.

  “Thank you,” I told her. “Penny always used to threaten to take off my beard when she was angry.” A cold chill swept over me as the words left my mouth. I still didn’t know what had happened that day when I had lost control of my powers while in a drunken stupor, but I was fairly sure that it had been Penny who had left me clean-shaven. I should be figuring that out. Not whatever it is I’ve been doing. Guilt ate at me.

  Rose wiped my face, and she was probably quite aware of what I was feeling, but she said nothing. Putting away the razor, she stood and moved away, turning her back this time. “You can dry off and get dressed now. Your clothes are in the basket.”

  I did as I was bid, and when I reached into the basket I found a grey velvet doublet with soft leather boots and well-made trousers to match. I recognized them. “How did you get these?”

  “Tyrion,” she answered. “He said they were in his closet in your old house.”

  The house he had resumed ownership of. That still annoyed me, but not as much as hearing his name on her lips. “I want you to stay clear of him, Rose. He’s dangerous.”

  Her eyes flashed a warning. “I’m well aware. I don’t need your reminder.”

  There was no point in fighting with her about it, so I took a moment to dry my manacles and the skin beneath them with the towel, then I took a seat on the bench. Rose joined me. “Don’t you think you should share your plan with me?” I suggested.

  “Do you really believe no one is listening?” said Rose.

  She had a point. We sat hand in hand, until the wall faded, and her assistants came in to carry out the tub. Rose was the last to leave and I grabbed her hand before she could exit. “Rose, wait. I need to thank you, for everything.”

  “I already know,” she said reassuringly.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I…” My treacherous throat closed up again. I couldn’t say it.

  Once more she put her finger to my lips. “I already know. Give yourself time. You aren’t done grieving yet.” She turned away, but before she stepped across the threshold, she delivered one more statement, a knowing smirk on her face. “I also know you weren’t thinking about it being too dark to shave earlier.”

  I gaped at her, embarrassed once more.

  “Someday—after the trial,” she told me, her expression turning serious. “It might be a year or two before you’re ready. I can wait.”

  Then she was gone, but I stared at the stone wall where she had been for a long time. I doubt I’ll ever be ready for you, I thought somberly. In fact, Dorian probably didn’t realize how far in over his head he was until it was too late. I went back to studying my manacles, and for the first time in many days, I looked forward to the ‘morrow.

  Chapter 33

  When they came for me in the morning, I was already up and pacing the floor, feeling very much like a caged lion. To my disappointment, it was Gareth and Tyrion who arrived to take me to my appointment with destiny.

  “You look eager to get your neck stretched,” said Tyrion jovially.

  “Anything to get out of this damned cell,” I responded, refusing to let him dampen my mood. “Though of the two of us, I’d say you’re the one who could use another inch or two in height,” I added, referring to the fact that I was at least an inch taller.

  Sure, it was petty, but no man likes to be looked down on. Tyrion was relatively tall, but I still had a slight advantage, and I knew it had to irritate him.

  For once, Gareth smirked, giving away the fact that he wasn’t completely devoid of humor. So I turned to him. “I don’t know why you’re so happy. Fall colors went out of fashion two thousand years ago.”

  Both of them gave me looks of confusion. They didn’t get it. Lifting my manacled hands, I tugged at my well-trimmed goatee. “His beard,” I said with a sigh.

  Gareth shrugged. “Red isn’t a fall color.”

  “I beg to differ. Your beard is exactly the shade some leaves turn in the autumn. You just don’t want to admit how much that remark stung,” I told him.

  Tyrion frowned. “Trees aside, fall colors are brown, green, grey, some blues…”

  “And burnt orange,” I insisted. “Don’t try to pretend you know anything about fashion.”

  “Ask your girlfriend,” suggested Gareth. “She’ll be able to decide the matter. Maybe the judge can issue a ruling, if he doesn’t have anything else more pressing to attend to today.”

  Gareth had surprised me. “I didn’t think you had a sense of humor.”

  He grinned maliciously. “Gallows humor is my specialty.”

  There was no winning, so I kept my mouth shut. Not because I had been defeated, but rather because my audience was too limited to appreciate my humor. I told myself that several times as we climbed the stairs. It wasn’t until we emerged from the dungeon that I realized I had forgotten to deny the most important point. “She isn’t my gi
rlfriend,” I insisted belatedly.

  “Mine either,” said Tyrion with a sinister chuckle. “More of a passing amusement.”

  That did it. Furious, I whipped my hands up and to one side, causing the long chain that linked my wrists to whistle through the air. Tyrion’s reflexes were fast, and he caught it, but the end of the loop continued onward, putting a red weal on his cheek.

  He jerked the chain, causing me to stumble, bending forward, and then he planted the toe of his boot in my sternum. I felt his aythar ignite, and something sharp pressed against the back of my neck. “You do not want to test me today, boy, unless you’d like to have a tragic accident before you reach the courtroom.”

  Coughing and wheezing, I was forced to bite back my anger, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Someday soon, I vowed silently, I’m going to make you pay for that remark. I owed him several debts already.

  Grabbing my elbows, they hauled me to my feet and dragged me along until I was able to get my legs working again. When we finally stepped out of the palace and into the morning sun I was nearly blinded by the brilliance. They didn’t wait for me to adjust, though. Urging me on, they walked me through the yard and into the main gate.

  “Your admirers are waiting outside,” said Tyrion wryly.

  And they were. The street between the palace and the House of Justice was packed with people, and by the sound of their calls and jeers, they weren’t very happy to see me. I hadn’t been popular in the capital since the night I had slaughtered Tremont’s loyalists in a killing spree that had later earned me the nickname ‘The Blood Count.’ People who recognized me in Albamarl usually lowered their eyes or walked in the opposite direction if they saw me coming, but the chains on my wrists had emboldened them to make their true feelings known.

  Those closest spat at me, while the ones further back threw rotten fruit and other things too unspeakable to think about. Fortunately, my escort didn’t fancy being covered in filth, so they erected a shield to keep the three of us free of detritus.

  We were about to enter the courthouse when I heard a new cry go up behind us. “Highwhore!” screamed the crowd. Turning, I saw Lady Rose begin to cross, and to my horror, she was unescorted.