Oathtaker

by Patricia Reding

  His thoughts returned to the present. He was grateful to find Lilith engaged in small talk with Edmond. Indeed, she seemed to be ignoring everyone else, as waiters offered the diners roasted lamb in a red wine sauce, game hens with a pancetta, dried apricot, cashew and rosemary stuffing, and oven roasted potatoes and carrots with garlic and thyme.

  Lilith laughed at Edmond’s comments, touching him from time to time, first his arm, then his hand, then his knee. The two seemed quite comfortable with one another. Dixon was surprised that his friend tolerated the woman so easily, but then most men did fall under her spell.

  “Is that true, Dixon?”

  “Excuse me? I’m sorry, Lilith.” He put his glass down. “Is what true?”

  She turned to Edmond, pouting. “You see? It’s like I said. Dixon ignores me.”

  “It’s not possible to ignore you, Lilith,” Edmond replied. His eyes were glued to her—or more accurately, to her cleavage.

  Dixon glanced at Basha. He had to exercise great discipline to keep from rolling his eyes. With superb timing from his vantage, a waiter stepped between him and Lilith, offering a plate of steamed asparagus in a lemon butter sauce, lightly sprinkled with sea salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Lilith allowed the waiter to place some on her plate, after which he moved on.

  “I’m not ignoring you, Lilith. I just have other things on my mind and I was enjoying Basha’s unexpected presence.”

  “What other things?” She glanced at Basha with a grimace she made no effort to conceal.

  “When you’re around, Lilith, there are no ‘other things,’” Edmond said.

  Dixon cleared his throat. Glancing over Lilith’s shoulder, he saw his friend shrug at him, his brow raised. So, Edmond was just playing to her ego, keeping her engaged, satisfied. He should be grateful—at least it kept her attention away from him.

  “It’s like I said, Lilith, I have other things on my mind. I was thinking about how I want this band off so I can go home. There was no cause for this.”

  “No cause!”

  “Yes,” Basha interrupted, “surely the band is unnecessary, Lilith.”

  Lilith sneered at her. “A lot you would know about an Oathtaker’s duty,” she spat. “No Select would be safe in your company.”

  Basha looked down.

  Lilith glanced around the room. She tilted her head and smiled at her guests who’d stopped to watch the exchange as it had grown more heated.

  When the diners turned back to their own meals and conversations, she turned back to Dixon. Her fingers touched her necklace, then slowly moved back and forth across her décolletage, as a hypnotist might do when trying to make his subject fall under his spell.

  He did not succumb to her attempts at seduction. His eyes remained fixed on hers. “You’re out of line, Lilith, and you know it. Basha deserves your undying respect and gratitude.”

  She glared. “Dixon. Be reasonable. Rowena is dead. Surely you can understand that it will be necessary for you to speak to the Council.” She pursed her lips.

  “Lilith. Be reasonable,” he mimicked, his expression hard, resolute. “You know I always served Rowena faithfully. I’m not a miracle worker. I told you how she died. Of course I’ll check in with the Council to inform them of the facts, but no reasonable person could find fault here.”

  “Oh, really? Well, I certainly have a lot of questions. Like . . . Where were you? And why were you there and not here at the palace where Rowena would have been safe? And . . . did you get assistance for her? And—well, many other things.” Her jaw set.

  “The palace isn’t always safe,” Basha said.

  Dixon contemplated what both women said. For the first time since leaving Polesk, he felt genuine cause for concern. He was confident he knew Lilith was responsible for Rowena’s death, but now he feared he understood why she’d banded him. She meant for him to be the scapegoat. She meant to keep inquiries about Rowena’s travels at bay by keeping the focus on his supposed dereliction of duty.

  He stared at Lilith.

  She boldly stared back.

  He refused to be the first to back down, to show any doubt, or to display any weakness upon which she would prey.

  Finally, she looked away. “So you see, Dixon,” she said, as though there’d been no showdown, “I had you banded so we could travel to the City of Light together. I’ve sent word ahead that we’ll be there soon. In the meantime,” she looked back at him, “the band stays.”

  His gaze met Basha’s, then he looked toward Edmond. He had hoped his friend would speak for him, but the man refused to even look his way. “Suddenly I’m not so hungry.”

  He stood and dropped his napkin on his plate. With all eyes on him, he marched from the dining room, catching from out of the corner of his eye, Basha rising to her feet.

  He made his way toward the foyer where two grand staircases rose, one flanking each side. He took the stairs two at a time, then strode down the hallway to his room. He was breathing hard when he arrived, not from physical exertion, but from frustration and a nagging fear that was taking hold: Lilith meant him harm.

  Dixon entered his chambers and grabbed his backpack. Hastily, he removed his dress clothes, exchanging them for garments for traveling. Then he gathered his personal items.

  He’d go to the Council this very night, before Lilith could further damage his reputation, before she could call his loyalty into question. Without her accusations and influence, the Council would understand. They would remove the band.

  A tap came at his door. He surmised it was Basha. He didn’t want her mixed up in this. He considered ignoring the summons, but the knocking came again, more insistently. He placed his pack down and out of view, then answered the door.

  “Dixon,” Basha said, “we have to talk.”

  “I’m tired of talking.”

  “To me?”

  He sighed. His fight drained away. He slumped down at the edge of his bed. With one elbow on his knee, he dropped his head into his hand and shook it. “No, of course not. Not to you. I’m sorry.”

  She sat down and put her hand on his shoulder. “Dixon, this is serious. I must speak with you.”

  He looked at her, unsure what he saw. Was it fear, dread, worry—or perhaps it was . . . hope? “What is it?”

  “We need to talk,” she mouthed without sound. She cupped a hand around her ear, then placed a finger over her lips, motioning that they should not speak out loud.

  He cocked his head and raised his hands in question.

  She pointed to the door. Then she held up one hand, waving toward it.

  He took the sign to mean that she would meet him somewhere, shortly. He mouthed his question: “Where?”

  She looked away. She bit her lip, then took his hand and led him toward the balcony. Speaking out loud she said, “Dixon, I know you’re angry, but . . . well, maybe Lilith is right after all. You know it’s important you speak with the Council. You’ll be cleared, I’m sure of it. It’s all just a formality.” She pointed to a well-known destination: the falls, where Therese had been lost.

  He nodded. “Fine, Basha, I’ll play along with her.” He hesitated and then, so as to lend credibility to his words, said, “But I don’t have to like it.” He turned back to his room and sat down again at the edge of the bed.

  “That’s better, Dixon,” she said as she sat beside him. “It’s for your own good. You’ll see. And it’ll help to keep the peace around here. For now, it would be best for you to cool down. You need some time to process all of what has transpired. I understand.”

  “But it’s all just so—”

  “No, Dixon,” she interrupted as she stood. “Tomorrow. We’ll breakfast. Maybe after a good night’s rest you’ll see things more clearly. I’d like to go to the Council with you, but only if you agree to Lilith’s terms. She is the leader of the family now.”

  He gestured toward his pack. Should he take it along?

  She shook her head.

  “Thank you, Bash
a. I’ll see you in the morning then. You’re probably right.” He walked her to the door. “Good night.”

  After she left, he waited. When he felt the requisite time had passed, he snapped up his cape and opened the door.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Bernard! You startled me.”

  “Sorry, Dixon.” The doorman entered with slow shuffling steps. He placed a stack of clean towels on the bureau. “Be careful,” he said quietly as he made his way back to the door, opened it, then looked down the hall.

  “Sure thing, Bernard. Thanks.”

  “See you in the morning then.”

  “Right. Good night. Thanks for the fresh towels.”

  The doorman waited, as though considering whether to say more, then softly made his way out.

  If anyone was listening in, Dixon might have company on his trip. He didn’t want to take that risk. He went to the balcony. A branch from a nearby oak reached toward his room, as though in invitation. He decided he would accept.

  Rummaging through his backpack, he removed a rope, then confirmed that his Oathtaker’s blade, Verity, was in its sheath. Its power wouldn’t work while the band blocked his attendant magic, but it could still serve as a useful weapon.

  He grabbed hold of the tree branch, then made his way to the ground. Guards at the gates to the east walked their beat. When the way was clear, he sprinted across the lawn, finding refuge behind statuary, trees, and shrubs, along the way. Upon reaching the south end of the lawn, he surveyed the area once again. Finding it clear, he dashed into the night.

  Though he knew the palace grounds well, it was always riskier to move speedily in muted light. Fortunately, the sky was overcast, softening and spreading out the light of the two current moons. Still, his jaunt would have been much easier if the band didn’t restrict his magic. Without it he had to move more slowly and use greater care.

  When he reached the area near where Basha had instructed him to go, he slowed. He moved out from behind a tree. There she is. He raised his hand to catch her attention.

  She placed a finger over her pursed lips, cautioning him to silence. Then she motioned him forward. When he reached her side, she clasped his arm and walked toward the falls.

  Shortly, they came upon a pile of smooth boulders hidden among the branches of a willow. They sat. The rush of the falls thundered off to the side.

  “Did anyone see you leave?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good. I don’t want anyone to overhear us. I chose this place with background noise so that any magic that might enhance someone’s hearing would be of little use.”

  He nodded. “Are you all right, Basha? Lilith said some terrible things at dinner.”

  “Welcome home, Dixon,” she joked.

  He laughed easily.

  She pursed her lips in thought. “Dixon, things are amiss at the palace.”

  “You think?”

  The two shared another laugh before her demeanor became serious. “Dixon, there are so many things I need to tell you. So many questions I have. I’m troubled and I’m confused. Thank you for speaking with me. I’m so grateful to have found a friend here.” Just as when Therese had fallen from the cliff, Basha seemed visibly shaken.

  “What is it?”

  She stood and paced a couple steps forward, then a couple back. Sitting back down, she grasped his hands. “Dixon, I fear for you. Lilith is . . . She is—”

  “Not right?”

  “Yes.” Basha smiled. “Oh, how I’ve missed your easy ways. Even in the midst of trouble you can always make me laugh!”

  “I guess it’s just my charm, huh?”

  She laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, Dixon,” she said as her voice softened, “I know this is a sad thing losing Rowena, and likely you’re not ready to think about this now, but . . . Well, after your grieving, you might find you want to share your life with someone. Perhaps she’s out there, even now, looking for you. Who knows? Maybe she’s already found you and you just don’t know it yet.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, I rather doubt that.” He hung his head and shook it, still smiling. “You remember, huh?”

  “Remember! How could I forget? What a funny story.”

  “And to think my own mother told you.”

  “Yes. So funny! She told me you were such a moody teenager, always cranky and scowling. She could never get you to ease up. ‘One day, I told him,’ she said to me, ‘one day I told him that if he ever finds a woman who thinks he’s charming, he’ll be sure to know he’s found his future wife!’ Goodness, it’s still just as funny today as it was back then.”

  “Yes, well it became a habit for me, you know? Before I took my first oath, I told every engaging woman I met that I had the gift of charm. None of them seemed to believe me!” He grinned, then became serious. “Maybe that’s why I found it so easy to swear an oath first for Judith, and later for Rowena.” He paused. “Figured no one else would have me.”

  “Not true, Dixon.” Basha shook her head. “Not true at all.” She smiled at him. “Why there will be many women who would be honored to know that in you they’ve found a man willing to swear an oath—a man who’s shown himself able to live up to what it means.” She paused. “Why, if I were a few years younger myself . . .”

  He caught her eye and together they laughed again.

  “Really, you might consider starting to ask the question again.”

  He smirked, but then became somber. What was it that had prompted him to tell Mara that he had the gift of charm? It was ridiculous. She had a charge. Even though he was now free, she was not. It was absurd, really. He turned to Basha. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Why are you at the palace? I thought you’d gone back to—”

  “I had—gone back to my hometown in Anka—yes,” she interrupted, “but I missed the palace so. And . . . oh, never mind. You’ll think I’m crazy.” She turned away.

  He placed his hand on her back. “I could never think you’re crazy. Believe me. I’ve seen crazy. I’ve met crazy!” He paused for effect and then said, “Her name is Lilith.”

  Basha chuckled.

  “Really, why do you say I would think badly of you? What’s going on?”

  She stood again, fidgeting. Her mouth would open to speak, then she’d place her fingers over her lips, then she’d try again. Back and forth she went.

  “Basha, sit.” He took her hand. “I won’t think you’re crazy. I promise. I know you and you’re . . . Well, you’re not the ‘crazy’ type!”

  From a few feet off came a rustle in the underbrush.

  “Shhh,” Dixon cautioned, his finger to his lips. He reached for a knife.

  Basha went still, then relaxed when a small hare jumped out from behind the brush.

  “Never mind, just a hare,” he said.

  She nodded as she gathered her thoughts. “Dixon, what would you say if I told you that—well, that—”

  “Go on,” he urged.

  “What would you say if I told you that I think Therese still lives? There, I’ve said it.” She leaned back and waited for his reaction.

  “Therese is alive?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Wait—” He held his hands up. “Why would you say that? We searched for days for her after she fell. What would make you think she still lives?”

  “I haven’t seen her, but . . . I believe she’s alive.”

  “Why? How?”

  “Dixon, would you know if Judith was alive? Or Rowena? I mean—what if you didn’t know for certain that either of them had died? What if you’d never seen their lifeless bodies? What if—”

  He shook his head. “It’s not possible, Basha. We searched for days, weeks even.”

  “But it is. It is! Don’t you see? You’d know.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Dixon, think about it. Suppose you hadn’t seen Rowena after her death. What one thing might make you believe . . .” She shook her head. “No, what one thing would
tell you with certainty that she lived?”

  The cool evening breeze, filled with mist, brushed against his skin. Hesitating, he listening to the rushing falls. Over the surging water, came an owl’s hoot.

  “Well, I suppose there’d be only one way.”

  “And that would be?”

  “The bond.”

  “Exactly,” she whispered.

  He stood and paced, then returned to her side. “You feel your bond with Therese?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Are you sure it’s the bond and not just some . . . I don’t know, some—”

  “Longing?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. No, Dixon, it’s not just some longing. It’s the bond. I know it. But it’s very . . . odd. It . . . comes and goes.”

  “Comes and goes?”

  “Yes. Sometimes it’s so strong I find myself on a path to meet with her. I’ve gone days out of my way, only to have the pull disappear as suddenly as it first began.”

  Dixon didn’t want to falsely encourage his friend, but he knew the bond was an unmistakable draw. An Oathtaker would drop anything to respond to it. “Go on,” he said.

  “I knew it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, I trust you. I’ve seen some unusual things with oaths and bonds of late. I don’t believe you could mistake anything else for your bond, unless . . . Well unless . . .”

  “Unless?”

  “I’ve never heard of it happening, but could someone have bewitched you somehow? Could someone be trying to order your steps?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know that it’s happened on numerous occasions. Sometimes it lasts for days and is highly intense. Then it just . . . dies. Each time, I feel I’ve lost her all over again.”

  “Oh, Basha, I am so sorry. How awful. I don’t know what to say.” He played a drumbeat on his thigh. “So, what do you want to do about it?”

  “I want to accompany you to the City of Light. That’s the direction from which it seems to pull me each time. If Therese is there, maybe I’ll find her. If she’s alive, then she needs me.”