Traitor to the Blood

by Barb Hendee

  It now seemed possible that Leesil's parents had found a way out. He should've found relief in the thought, but he didn't. Hedí Progae must have worked a long time for the scattered pieces of Byrd's unfinished drawings. How ironic that she'd finished her desperate service this night, in the same note that brought Leesil his first hint or what had happened. That note would pull this province apart.

  Byrd might have found a way into the keep for his Anmaglâhk.

  Leesil could restrain him, but what of the mans elven conspirators? They might come for the innkeeper, and he would tell them everything. Even if Leesil killed Byrd, he couldn't be certain whether his father's old friend had betrayed him to the elves, to Dannouth, or both. I he Anmaglâhk could be watching all of them, following everything Leesil did.

  For any choice or none at all, Byrd's plot boxed Leesil in on all sides. And it had trapped Wynn in the worst place in Leesil's world.

  "Do you want your lady back?" Byrd asked Emêl flatly, and looked at Magiere and Leesil. "Do you want Wynn back?"

  No one replied. No one had to.

  "No matter what Hedí uncovered," Byrd continued, "her chance of reaching the lower levels and escaping are slim to none. Wynn's odds are worse. When Darmouth's men don't find Leesil here, he'll dangle the little sage piece by piece until you give yourself up."

  Magiere pulled on Leesil's arm. "Then there's still time—"

  "I said piece by piece," Byrd repeated. "Wait too long and not much of her will be left."

  Chap lunged with a loud snap of his jaws.

  Byrd sprang away toward the bar's end. Baron Milea turned white, hand on his saber's hilt.

  Leesil lifted his hand to Chap. The dog held his place, but his growls came in sharp, fast breaths as he watched Byrd.

  "Whatever Lady Progae thinks she's found," Byrd continued, "it has an entrance within the keep and an exit on the far shore. Leesil and I are the only ones who might locate a hidden exit in the forest. If you want my help, there'll be no more questions. Now, get your things… before the soldiers kick in my door."

  The baron scowled, looking at each person present as if finding himself in the worst of company. He clearly wasn't used to ultimatums, but his hand dropped from his saber hilt in surrender.

  "I must get Hedí out of there," he said.

  The nobleman's determination puzzled Leesil. Why would one of Darmouth's remaining loyals risk so much for his bed slave?

  Chap barked once, and Magiere pulled on Leesil's arm. "Gear up and I'll get our belongings. We're not coming back here, no matter how this ends."

  Clover Roll hissed loudly from his tabletop and arched his back. Leesil followed the cat's eyes to the window.

  One shutter was open no more than a hand's width. A large robin rested upon the sill, its head stuck through the space.

  Clover leaped across the tabletops, straight for the window. In a flurry of feathers the bird vanished from sight. Clover hit the shutters, knocking them wide as he tumbled into the street with a yowl.

  "Better let out all your cats,'' Leesil said to Byrd, and headed for the stairs behind Magiere.

  Welstiel waited, observing Chane impatiently.

  Chane looked deceptively peaceful, sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands on his knees. He'd finished washing the black from his hair and wore dark breeches and a tailored muslin shirt. The change brought the illusion of the young Noble Dead that Welstiel had met back in Bela.

  The illusion shattered as Chane gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands.

  Welstiel crouched down. "What's wrong?"

  Chane looked about, disoriented. It wasn't uncommon when he roused from sinking his awareness within that of a familiar.

  "Cat… large cat,' he rasped, and looked at Welstiel with feral anger in his eyes. "Darmouth has Wynn and he will torture her to get Leesil. We are getting into the keep—now!"

  "Control yourself,' Welstiel ordered, "and tell me what you heard and saw."

  Chane leaned forward on his hands, and for an instant Welstiel grew wary that his companion might lunge.

  "Leesil… and your precious Magiere are going to try to breach the keep," Chane whispered, "and go after Wynn. Soon they may all be inside with Darmouth and his forces."

  "What? Magiere should be preparing to hunt you."

  The shadow of a thin smile crossed Chane's face, but his eyes held no amusement. He recounted all he had seen and heard through his bird, from the moment of Emêl's arrival, to Leesil reading Lady Progae's letter aloud, to the paunchy stray cat diving for the familiar.

  Welstiel settled on the bed's edge.

  An assassination attempt would be made on Darmouth, leaving Leesil with no other avenues to search for his parents. He would leave, and therefore so would Magiere. But now she was hunted by the Darmouth and running straight into the warlord's hands.

  "We go now," Chane repeated. "Either to the forest to trail them or…

  Welstiel shook his head and ran a hand over his face, pulling back his hair.

  "No. If they find the exit for this rumored passage, we could not follow unseen and unheard. I will go to the bridge gatehouse and say that I have information regarding Magiere's whereabouts. Darmouth will be eager to hear this. You will pose as my manservant and keep your hood up. Once inside we will break away, but no bodies must be left visible. We assist Magiere from the shadows, as we did in Apudalsat."

  Chane stared into the dark corner of the room. It was obvious his addled mind was not on Magiere's safety but rather on Wynn.

  Getting out of the city gates wasn't as difficult as Magiere had expected.

  She paid the stable bill for Port and Imp, packed their belongings in the wagon, and everyone climbed in. With their hoods up, almost no one gave them notice on the night streets. A small band of soldiers tried to question them, but Baron Milea pulled his hood back and ordered them off. The sergeant in charge nodded respectfully and waved his men out of their way.

  Their first stop was the Bronze Bell. Emêl went up to his room while Magiere took everyone else to wait with the wagon at a nearby stable. She was slightly surprised when he returned with a chest and several canvas sacks of soft goods.

  He'd gathered all of his belongings.

  The bleary-eyed stable master brought out the baron's horse and a second mount with a lady's flat saddle, likely intended for Hedí Progae. There was no sign of personal guards or retainers.

  This confirmed Magiere's guess. Emêl planned to take his consort and run, likely for the Stravinan border. For all the worthless elites she'd met it was strange in this fear-filled land to see a nobleman ready to abandon his way of life for someone else.

  Emêl gathered canvas tarps and loaded them in the wagon's back. He looked up at Magiere.

  "Soldiers at the city gate are looking for a dark-skinned man with white-blond hair." Emêl didn't look at Leesil, but a grimace of distaste crossed his features. "And now they will be on watch for a black-haired woman with a wolf. Some may know Byrd. I will ride up front with you, but the others must hide in the back."

  He held out a wool dress, and Magiere stared at it.

  "Hedí is smaller than you, but you should still fit into this," Emêl added. "At least enough to pass with your cloak over it. The gate watch will hesitate to question a noble escorting a lovely woman out of the city."

  Leesil nearly hissed. "It pays to be among Darmouth's favored, doesn't it?"

  "Better than doing his dirty work," Emêl returned with equal venom.

  Leesil sat up but only returned Emêl's glare.

  "That's enough from both of you," Byrd snapped. "Magiere, put on the dress, and Leesil, you keep quiet."

  Magiere wasn't certain how much the baron knew of Leesil's past. If Emêl had been a member of Darmouth's inner circle in Leesil's youth, he would certainly have his suspicions concerning Gavril and Nein'a, and thereby their son.

  She unbuckled her sword and laid it under the wagon's bench, then took the dress from Emêl,
not caring for how all this was playing out. Since the moment Wynn had been captured, Magiere had felt out of control. Leesil hadn't been himself since entering the Warlands, and pain emanated from him no matter how silent and cold he might act. Now they trusted their lives and Wynn's to one of Darmouth's inner circle and a two-faced spy with a soft spot for cats.

  "Aren't you bringing your men?" Byrd asked Emêl. "The gate guards might find it odd, your leaving without an escort."

  "Involving my men would make things too political," Emêl answered. "A lone noble with a woman only gives the guards something to snicker about. They will assume I'm returning later, but Hedí is all that matters to me now.'

  Magiere climbed down and walked into the stable's back stall. She tried to slip the dress over her clothes. It caught on the hauberk, so she removed that and tried again. The dress was too tight. She took off her wool pullover, then had to remove the shirt as well. Glancing nervously over the stall's partition, she shivered in the cold air. She pulled the dress over her head, leaving her breeches and boots on. The dress was too short and barely closed in front, but with her cloak on and perhaps a blanket over her legs, it might do.

  When she returned and stuffed her clothes behind the bench, she pulled a blanket out and placed it on the seat. Leesil, Byrd, and Chap concealed themselves beneath a canvas tarp in the wagon's back. Emêl shifted his sacks toward the rear, giving the illusion that the wagon was merely packed with stores.

  "I hate this," Leesil whispered from beneath the tarp. "I'm sick of hiding."

  "We don't have a choice," Magiere murmured back, and climbed onto the bench next to Emêl. "Now, for the last time, be quiet!'

  She draped the blanket over her legs, hiding the short skirt. Emêl took the reins and steered them into the open street. They followed the main way through Venjetz.

  As they left the upper-class district, Magiere looked back to be sure Leesil remained covered. A spark of light glinted from somewhere to her left, and she twisted around.

  Magiere looked at the buildings as the wagon continued on its way. Perhaps she'd only seen the light of the sparse street lanterns reflecting off something. A glass window?

  Another quick glint came from farther behind on her left.

  "Stop the wagon," she whispered.

  Emêl pulled up. "What is it?"

  She peered along the row of buildings—a narrow two-story inn, two smaller structures she couldn't name, and then a tanner's shop. All appeared quiet and dark. She felt foolish that her nerves had gotten the best of her.

  "It's nothing," she said. "Move on."

  Emêl glanced back once with a frown, examining the street, then flicked the reins.

  When they finally approached the main gates, none of the soldiers even questioned Emêl as he ordered them to open up. One in a well-worn chain vest over quilted padding gave Magiere a long glance. His eyes drifted downward from her face, and he turned away with an amused smile and a shake of his head. She breathed a sigh of relief as they left Venjetz behind.

  Emêl clucked to Port and Imp and turned them onto the main road. Magiere kept her eyes forward, not caring to see the rotting decorations upon the wall's outer iron spikes. It was bad enough that she smelled a thin stench and heard the low metal creak of a crow's cage swinging slightly in the low breeze.

  The forest thickened around them as the city fell farther behind. The near-full moon shed some light on the open road. Frozen mud ruts made the wagon lurch and jerk too often. Magiere stayed quiet, finally risking a glance back to see that the city walls had disappeared behind them.

  "Where to?" she asked.

  "This road heads west into the foothills," Emêl answered. "We'll stop soon, and go on foot through the forest back to the lake."

  "Can the cargo get up now?" asked Byrd, voice muffled beneath the tarp.

  "Yes," Magiere answered. "I doubt anyone travels the roads on so cold a night."

  Thrashing in the wagon's bed made her look back. Byrd, Chap, and Leesil shoved blankets, tarps, and other covering aside. Byrd rose up on one knee, looking into the forest.

  "We're close enough," he said, and pointed toward a spot ahead. "Hide the wagon and horses there."

  Emêl steered the wagon in between two trees to a small brush-filled clearing. Everyone climbed out, and Leesil gathered blankets from the back. He held one up, and Magiere changed clothes in moderate privacy. Once she had the dress off and her shirt on, he strapped on his blades and lashed his toolbox to his back with a length of rope.

  Magiere buckled down her hauberk. Leesil handed their two lanterns to Emêl and Byrd. He looked more like himself, now that he had something to act upon. He handed her a sheathed dagger, which she tucked into her belt. As soon as all were ready, Byrd led the way deeper into the forest.

  It was a short walk before they emerged to moonlight shimmering upon the lake. Across the water was the black silhouette of the keep, its towers' crowns marked by the red-orange glow of their top braziers. Chap began sniffing the shore.

  "It is a sound design," Emêl said. "Anyone approaching across the water would be picked off by archers, and the city itself makes for a difficult frontal assault. Either way, the keep is out of the reach of most siege engines.

  Magiere gazed out across the lake.

  "Don't light the lanterns yet," Leesil warned. "They might be seen from the ramparts. Moonlight will serve us for now."

  Emêl frowned. "What exactly are we looking for?"

  When Leesil didn't answer, Magiere began with her own questions. "How could any escape route from the keep allow Lady Progae to cross the lake? Would there be a boat hidden in the lower levels, something small that might go unnoticed? Chat won't help us get in, not until she's already out.'

  Byrd shook his head. "Too risky. Any escape route in case a siege breached the defenses would have to provide protection for those fleeing. If an enemy force took the keep, their own archers could pick off those in flight across the lake. No, it has to be something created when the keep was built, back in the days of King Timeron."

  Leesil approached the lake, and Magiere watched him stare at the water, lost in thought.

  "Not across it," he whispered, watching the soft ripples of water. "But under it."

  "What nonsense have you got in your head?" Byrd asked.

  "The keep was built on a flat depression in the land," Leesil answered. "The lake came afterward."

  Magiere didn't follow this. "No one could swim the lake all the way underwater, and especially in the cold."

  "That's not what I meant," Leesil replied.

  "Oh, bloody deities," Byrd whispered.

  Magiere was about to tell him to shut his mouth, but Byrd stared at the water with Lees ills same knowing expression.

  "If the keep was here before the lake," Leesil continued, "then what else might Timeron have built down there, hidden beneath the water?"

  Byrd shook his head slowly. "It's been right here in front me… all these years of searching."

  "A passage?" Magiere asked. "Under the lake?"

  Leesil didn't even nod. "We have to get in the water and search below the surface."

  Emêl finally joined in. "If it is under the lakebed, what could we possibly find?"

  Leesil cast a scowl toward the baron but remained civil in his reply. "Anything that would hold up under that water over decades would have to be strongly reinforced. I wouldn't bury it, since flooded water would hide it well enough. And I'd make it out of thick stone that wouldn't decay."

  "Yes, but this winter is so…" Byrd paused, at a loss, looking at the thin ice over the lake's edge. "All right, we'll try it."

  They all began stripping off gear, and Leesil was chosen to stay onshore to watch their weapons. Magiere stepped into the lake, its fringe ice cracking as her boots sank into the water. Byrd and Emêl followed.

  Icy cold burrowed into her legs before the water even topped her boots. Both Byrd and Emêl began panting quickly as they too felt the cold. She'd e
xpected the water to be bitter, but it was on the verge of freezing. She stepped back out as her toes became numb.

  "This is insane," Emêl said. "Even if we find something, we will not be fit to breach the keep if we are half-dead with cold."

  Leesil stepped past Magiere into the water. He hurried back out, bending to rest his hands on his knees with a moan of frustration. When he looked up at Magiere, there was more doubt in his face than discomfort.

  "When you're in… your other state," he asked, "do you feel the cold as much?"

  Magiere didn't like where he was going with this. "Not as much, sometimes not at… But I can't just make it happen. That level of… hunger… it has to start, before I can do anything with it."

  "Then think or something—anything that gets to you." He grabbed her forearm. "Wynn is in that keep, and the rest of us don't stand half the chance you might in that water. You have to try.'

  It wasn't that he was asking her to do something difficult. Magiere would do anything for him. He was asking something she didn't know how to do.

  "Remember the schooner to Bela," he said, cocking one white eyebrow. "You gave me com to buy wine, because I was seasick, and I lost it all gambling with sailors. Then you got attacked by thugs, and I was so drunk that…"

  Magiere crossed her arms and glared at him. Yes, and it was still one of the stupidest things he'd ever done, but not exactly the kind of thing that would accomplish what he asked of her.

  "What?" Emêl asked blankly, and looked at Byrd. "What has this to do with anything?"

  Byrd shook his head and threw up his hands in disgust. "Why are you asking me? Leesil—"

  Leesil shot him an angry glare, and Byrd rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.

  "This isn't going to work," Magiere said.

  Chap loped over, his long, silver-blue fur glinting in the moonlight. His crystalline eyes locked on hers. She felt a tickling at the edge of her thoughts.

  Memories began to surface.

  The dark world around her flashed white, as if someone had shoved a torch in front of her eyes. She blinked hard to shield her vision.

  And there she saw the graveyard of Chemestúk, her home village. The memory was so strong, it blocked out the lake and forest around her for the moment.