Sister of the Dead

by J. C.

  Leesil sped around the hut to find Magiere and Wynn standing beside the open shed door. He pulled up short to flatten himself against the hut's rear wall. When Chap skidded around the comer, he saw only Magiere and Wynn at first. The dog lunged forward, spotting Leesil too late. Leesil stepped in behind Chap, grabbed the dog by the haunches in midlunge, and shoved. In a clatter of wood scraps, hoes, and racks, Chap crashed into the shed's enclosure.

  Magiere swung the door shut, and Leesil threw his back against it, digging his heels into the ground. The snarling and battering from inside began immediately.

  "Could you, um... find something to brace this shut, please?" he asked Magiere.

  She gave him a scowl that said this was another of his more idiotic schemes, then picked up a stout spade left outside and braced the shed's door with it.

  Wynn's small mouth dropped open, as Chap continued to thrash about inside the shed.

  "How could you do this to him? As a Fay, Chap may know far more than we do of the world. If he does not want us to be here, he must have a reason. "

  "And he's not giving it to us, " Magiere answered. "Until he does, this is the only place where I might find answers. If he won't help, he can stay out of my way!"

  Wynn flinched at her harsh tone. "Perhaps I should stay with him?"

  "No, I'll need you if we find records, " Leesil said, and he stepped away from the shed door. "I can read some Droevinkan, but you're the scholar. "

  Leesil led the way out of the village and toward the keep. They passed a few nervous villagers on the way, but none spoke to them. The keep disappeared from sight as they trudged the road through the forest. Climbing a final rise, Leesil felt the previous dusk's tension return as the keep reappeared at the crest of the hill, and he paused at the break in the trees.

  It was a simple fortification, and more than a bit worn with age. Moss grew between lichen-spotted stones on its lower half. To one side was an undersized stable, while the other held a small abandoned barracks with a clay chimney. Around all the grounds was a stone wall decayed over the years to half height, and its gate doors were missing. The surrounding forest had been cleared away from the wall for thirty paces on all sides.

  Wynn stepped close to Leesil, shivering in the dank afternoon. She was so small that she could have stood beneath his chin. With her hood up over her hair, only her oval face showed, making her anxious eyes seem rounder as she looked up at him. Magiere stood to his other side, unblinking.

  Two men stood inside the courtyard near the keep's front doors. They talked quietly to each other, while a third led a horse to the side stable and a water trough.

  "Are we still going in?" Wynn asked.

  "Magiere... you know the way, " Leesil said.

  "No, " she replied. "I don't. "

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "This is as far as I've ever come, " she said. "I was forbidden to come here.... No one from the village ever came here by choice. "

  "But you spent your whole childhood living nearby, " Wynn asked in surprise. "You must have—"

  "I sneaked up here alone a few times, " Magiere said, "but never farther than the tree line. "

  Leesil put his arm around behind Magiere and walked forward slowly. As he and Magiere passed through the doorless gate, the two men near the keep stopped talking. Each guard carried a spear, as well as a long-knife sheathed on his belt, but their clothes were plain and threadbare. They were likely no more than locals engaged by the zupan.

  "Can I help you?" the shorter one asked, and his tone suggested that they state their business quickly.

  "We need to speak with the zupan, " Leesil said.

  "Is he expecting you?"

  Leesil felt Magiere's hand clench his with a shudder. She let go and stepped forward, her voice polite but cold.

  "We arrived only last night. It's important that I see him. "

  The man shook his head. "Leave your petition with me, and I'll see that he gets it. If you come tomorrow, perhaps he will—"

  "Oh, stop with your pretense, Cherock, " a deep voice called out. "Father missed lunch, and he's having an early supper. Today's no more exciting than the rest, and he won't mind a few visitors. "

  Leesil turned, searching for the speaker.

  In the keep's open doorway stood a slender man with coal-black hair that hung to his shoulders in a wild, unruly mass. His dusky complexion almost matched Wynn's olive tone, unlike the pale villagers and the would-be guards. He wore russet breeches with high boots and a baggy shirt of sea green with the cuffs rolled halfway up his arms. In one hand he held a fiddle, and in the other he lightly gripped a player's bow. The instrument's finish was worn away where the man's chin would rest. He smiled openly as he gestured them inside with the bow, and Leesil saw nothing behind the expression but a friendly welcome.

  "Come, come, " the young man called. "Cherock is doing his little duty, but my father doesn't stand on ceremony. Join us. "

  Such a relaxed invitation was unexpected, but Leesil and Wynn followed Magiere to the doorway. The young man looked over all three visitors but gave Wynn a longer appraisal as his smile broadened.

  "I am Jan. Cherock acts as if my father has the schedule of a capital potentate, but we're not quite so overrun. Before we took to the keep, we lived in my father's central village or visited among my mother's people... and I'm dying for any company besides these courtyard hang-abouts. "

  As Leesil stepped past Jan to the keep's doorway, he noted a series of three silver hoops in the young man's left earlobe.

  "And when was the last time he held an audience?"

  Jan paused a moment. "Late summer, I think. One village needed coin for a new mule. I don't suppose you need an ass for your labors?" He nodded toward Wynn with a conspiratorial whisper. "I could give you a bargain on Cherock, if you like. A little exercise might improve his nature. "

  Wynn backed toward Leesil as she eyed the young man and tried not to smile.

  "She's not familiar with the local language, " Leesil said.

  "Ah, lost in foreign lands, are we?" Jan opened his arms in a grand gesture. "My mother's people are well traveled. Vidaty vraveti Belaskina?"

  Wynn seemed charmed and relieved that the zupan's son had formally asked her if she spoke Belaskian. However, it made Leesil suspicious about how a backwoods peasant had become so fluent in the language.

  Jan ushered them through the short entryway into the keep's main hall, chattering at Wynn all the while. The main hall was little more than a large chamber, and it felt overly hot to Leesil after the chill outside.

  Stairs circled up along the wall to the left, and matching ones went down below to the right. The timbered ceiling was twice a man's height and less aged than the stone, likely having been expanded well after the structure had been first built. The original fire pit in the hall's center was filled in with newer floor stones, and a hearth large enough to crawl into had been added to the far wall. A fire blazed therein, its smoke drafting up through a mortared chimney. An older man and woman sat at a table eating flatbread and roasted mutton.

  "Visitors, " Jan announced, plopping into a spare chair. "Cherock nearly turned them away. Father, you must speak to that man. Give him something more important to do than run off anyone of interest. "

  Jan's father looked up with a chunk of bread halfway into his mouth. Unlike his son, the zupan was a barrel of a man with pale skin, fading freckles, and cropped red hair peppered by gray flecks. He turned a discerning gaze upon Leesil and Magiere before pulling the bread strip from his mouth as he stood up.

  "My son's good nature overbears his good manners, " he said. "I'm Cadell, overseer of this fief and zupan to one of its clans. This is my wife, Nadja. "

  The woman stood, offering a smile, and motioned them to sit. Her manner was closer to that of Jan, and the son's resemblance to his mother was striking. She, too, was slender with wild black hair, and her complexion was darker than Wynn's. She wore gold earrings and a cyan dress tied at the
waist by an orange paisley sash. Around one forearm wrapped a bracelet of ruddy metal, possibly a mix of copper and brass. It wasn't until they stepped near the table that Leesil saw the detailed engraving upon it of twining birds with long tail plumes and flecks of green stone for eyes.

  Wynn turned her head several times between Jan and Nadja.

  "You are mountain nomads... the Tzigan?" she blurted out in Belaskian. "I read a brief mention of your people. What are you doing so far south? What do you eat in those barren mountains? Is it true that you can read future happenings?"

  Leesil let out a sigh that turned to groan before he could stop it. He and Magiere had rarely traveled the mountains, but he'd heard enough of the Tzigan to be wary. Not that they were dangerous, but things had a way of turning up missing when these people were about. Both Nadja and Jan blinked in surprise at Wynn's barrage of questions, and Jan burst out laughing. He set his fiddle upon the table and patted the chair nearest his own.

  "Come sit with me, little one, and I'll tell you all. First, that we prefer the name Mondyalitko. That Belaskian word is... somewhat unflattering. "

  It certainly was, thought Leesil, but appropriate for vagabond thieves. This situation was getting out of hand, and he turned to Zupan Cadell.

  "That isn't why we came. " And he nodded to Magiere. "My companion and I seek information and hoped you could help. "

  Nadja watched Magiere with open curiosity and held out her hand. "Come, sit. What is it you wish to know?"

  "My father, " Magiere answered, and shook her head at the offered chair. "I'm looking for some way to trace him. He held this fief twenty-five years ago when I was born, and that is the last I know of his whereabouts. The few villagers who knew of him don't remember his name or won't talk. I hoped you'd have records. "

  Nadja's olive brow wrinkled as she turned to her husband. Cadell rubbed his wide jaw as he stared down at the table a moment and then shook his head.

  "When we arrived, the keep was in shambles, " he said. "Some furnishings had been looted. No lord had lived here for nearly two years. Neither had any taxes been collected. I agreed to manage the fief on the condition that Prince Rodek forgo the lost taxes and allow me time to reorganize. "

  The idea of a fief left without an overlord for two years was far too strange for Leesil's taste, but he shook his curiosity off to deal with the matter at hand.

  "There must be something, " he said. "Accountings, ledgers... anything?"

  "Not that I have found, " Cadell answered. "Likely the last overseer took any such back to the Antes estate or else they were looted. I've had to begin anew, even to re-counting the local households among the villages and reckoning what is due. "

  Magiere's face fell, her gaze dropping to the floor. She gripped the back of a chair.

  A small part of Leesil was disappointed. A larger part was relieved, which in turn brought a heavy guilt. Whoever Magiere's father had been, Leesil suspected her mother had faced an uglier death than dying in childbirth. He was no longer sure Magiere should learn of this. And worst for his guilt, if this ended Magiere's search, perhaps they would be back on the road north in search of his own mother. Magelia was gone, but there was a chance that Nein'a still lived.

  "Where would the records be taken, if they were removed?" Wynn asked.

  Cadell frowned. "The Antes castle is in Enemusk, the main city for this province, but I'd guess the records would end up in Keosnk, the capital. Prince Rodek Antes reigns as grand prince for another three years, and he will live on the royal grounds for his term. From what I guess, he doesn't trust his younger brother, Duke Luchyan, with care of their family's holdings. If records exist, you might find them in the capital, but there's no guarantee. With all the civil skirmishes between noble houses over the years, Keonsk is always the center of conflict. Buildings have been burned and records lost. "

  As Cadell began, hope rekindled in Magiere's eyes, but by the end of his words, Leesil saw it dwindle again.

  "May we look around the keep?" Wynn asked. "I will not disturb anything, but there may be documents hidden in places that others have overlooked. "

  Leesil was dubious, and Wynn seemed to catch this in his expression.

  "Cathologers among the sages, " she said, "like myself and Domin Tilswith, are experienced in both the protection and care of records. I do know what to look for. "

  Cadell consented, provided that anything found was brought to him first. And the search began.

  In addition to the main hall, there were storage rooms and a kitchen on the main floor. Upstairs were sleeping quarters, one such room converted into a study. Leesil had trained as a youth in the art of hidden spaces, and he, too, knew what to watch for. He walked each room, scanning walls, floor, and ceiling for telltale cracks or unusual structure. Wynn inspected furniture, checking their undersides and pulling out drawers to look behind and beneath them. She even checked to see if chair and table legs were loose, a suitable space for hollowed-out hiding places.

  Neither of them found anything.

  "Do not give in yet, " Wynn reassured Magiere. "I thought we should start up here, as Domin Tilswith says to exhaust upper floors first. But most archives are kept in lower levels, where they are more protected from fire and illicit removal. "

  Leesil agreed. Back down on the main floor, Jan waited for them by the main entryway.

  "Can I help?"

  "Can we go to the cellars?" Wynn asked.

  Jan retrieved a candle lantern from the table. "Follow me, little one. "

  Wynn pulled a cold lamp crystal from her pocket and warmed it in her hands until it glowed brightly. The sight of it raised Jan's curiosity so sharply mat Leesil became wary again. The young man asked no questions as the four of them walked down the curving stairwell and into the darkness below.

  The stairs emptied into a square space at the head of a passageway running beneath the keep, and the air was as chill as outside. Jan led the way with Wynn just behind him, and he stopped briefly to light two oil lanterns on the walls.

  Along the passage were six doors, three to a side, of thick wood and rusted iron fixtures. Between them were support arches of larger stones across the passage's roof. At midway, Jan pointed downward in caution to a floor grate so no one would trip upon its hinges. Leesil took Wynn's wrist and steered her crystal down closer to the grate.

  Beneath it was a hollowed-out square chamber that smelled of stagnant moisture—the keep's dungeon for prisoners. For a moment, Leesil thought he saw gaunt faces peering up at him from below. He pulled away.

  These were only old guilts resurfacing in Leesil's mind. How many had he helped put in such a place—or worse— beneath Lord Darmouth's keep in the Warlands?

  "What is in these rooms?" Magiere asked. She pushed on the first door in the passage's left wall, but it would not open.

  "One holds stores we've gathered, " Jan replied. "Another has surplus goods collected for taxes in place of crops and coin. "

  "And nothing was found here when you first came?" asked Leesil, studying Magiere's obstinate door with its rusted latch.

  "Nothing of note, " Jan answered. "Old crates with moth-eaten cloth or tin plates, probably from when the barracks were manned. I didn't look in all of them myself. "

  'Time to do so, " Magiere said, and pointed to the doors. "Are these locked?"

  "This one isn't, " Leesil offered. "Give it a shove. "

  Magiere joined him to push. The door shifted enough for Leesil to work the latch.

  "They should all be open, " said Jan. "There's nothing here worth locking up. "

  Wynn stepped in behind Leesil, holding out her crystal so that its light spread through the doorway. The room was large enough to lie down in, but it was empty. Leesil took the crystal and scanned once along all four walls before shaking his head at Magiere.

  "It's an old keep, and not one of importance, " he said regretfully. "We'll look carefully, but don't expect this forgotten place to hold many secrets. "

&n
bsp; "Next room, " she said, ignoring his forewarning.

  They proceeded one by one through the doors along the passage. Some opened more easily than the first. Cleaned and swept, they held recently added goods delivered by villages for taxes due from the fief. A few loose or broken wall stones had been replaced or remortared. There was nothing else of note.

  Leesil studied the stones of the hallway. Cracked or broken ones had been replaced over the keep's history, and the walls were a patchwork of shades and textures. Likely wet weather and dank earth had combined with the weight of the keep to wear away at the understructure. There were signs of other erosion by time, repaired or not, and also hints that the lower level had been slowly expanded since the keep's first construction. The stones at the passage's end were not as aged as those nearest the stairs and the landing's chamber.

  Only the last two rooms on opposing sides held anything interesting. Inside were stacked crates, which contained wares likely stored from the long-abandoned barracks. Leesil stepped out into the passage to face Magiere.

  She glared down the passage of open doors as if searching for an enemy that would not reveal itself.

  "There's nothing here, " Leesil said.

  She turned on him, expression cold like the stone surrounding them, as if neither his words nor his presence affected her. Her resistance faltered as she inhaled deeply. "Finish with the crates, " she said, and turned away to walk back down the passage.

  Leesil returned to the last room, where Wynn looked at him with sad eyes.

  "Go through them all, " he said, gesturing to the crates stacked around the small chamber's walls. "Empty them all... and then we're done with this. "

  Wynn nodded, and even Jan remained silent as he pulled the first crate down to the floor and opened it.

  Leesil was about to follow Magiere but thought better of it. She sat on the bottom stair with her head down, elbows resting upon her knees. Her fading desperation would be covered by her usual anger. Anything he said would only make it worse.

  "Leesil, come look at this, " Wynn said.