The Blood Knight

by Greg Keyes

  “Anne.” She sighed. “It’s you. It’s you.”

  And then she was crying with her daughter, and there was too much to say, and not enough. But there would be time, wouldn’t there?

  Against all odds, they had time.

  Leoff wiped tears from his eyes and tried to compose himself; it was nearly noon.

  So much depended on such little things. Did Robert’s executioner have any mercy in him at all? Probably not, and in that case, his night’s work was in vain. Even if Ambria’s murderer took a small pity on him, so many other things had to go right. He had to slip the wax into Mery’s ears unseen and not have her protest or wonder aloud why he had done it. He had to be allowed to stand near Areana so he could cover her ears at the crucial moment.

  Even if he managed all of that, he wasn’t sure it would work. Some sound would enter their heads regardless of how well he prepared. It might be too much.

  It suddenly occurred to him that if he could find a needle, he might be able to pierce Areana’s eardrums in time.

  But it was beyond thinking about now, for he heard boots thumping in the hall.

  A moment later his door opened, and even the poor plan he had arranged fell into disarray.

  For there stood Robert Dare.

  The prince smiled and drifted into the room, glancing around it with a sort of mock interest. For a single, beautiful moment, Leoff thought the usurper had countermanded the executioner, but then Mery and Areana were escorted in by the killer, four guards, and Lord Respell.

  “Well,” Robert said, shuffling through the papers on Leoff’s desk, “you do seem to have been busy.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Robert looked surprised. “Oh, it’s Majesty now, is it? What brings that on?” He glanced over at Mery and Areana.

  “Oh, right,” he said, tapping his head with his index finger.

  “Please, Your Majesty.”

  “Oh, please yourself, you simpering dog,” Robert snapped. “I am in no mood to grant clemency. Noose is my man. How would he feel if I gave him authority to make decisions and just snatched it away from him, eh? Well, that’s not how you breed loyalty, is it?”

  “Let it be just me instead,” Leoff said.

  “No,” Robert said. “You’ve work to do for me, remember? Unless you’ve finished.”

  “I have done a great deal, but I am not finished yet,” Leoff said. “And I still need helpers.”

  “You will have to make do with half the staff,” Robert said. “But here, before you make your little decision, why not perform some small piece of this for me. I’m told the three of you make very pretty music together. Wouldn’t you like to do that one more time?”

  Leoff blinked. “Of course, Sire. And perhaps if it pleases you—”

  “If it pleases me, then I shall take no further steps in disciplining you,” Robert snapped.

  Leoff nodded, trying to make his face into a mask.

  “Very well,” he said. “Mery, Areana, come here, please.”

  They came. Mery seemed puzzled but not particularly concerned. Areana was white and trembling.

  “Leoff,” she whispered.

  Leoff pulled up the piece. “Let me add a few quick notes,” he said. “I think Your Majesty will enjoy this best if you’ll just give me a few seconds to confer—”

  “Yes, yes, go ahead.” Robert sighed. He walked over to the window and peered out, his brow furrowed.

  “They’ll be here soon,” Lord Respell said uneasily.

  “Shut up,” Robert said. “Or I shall have Noose remove your tongue.”

  Leoff wondered what the exchange was about, but he couldn’t spend any time on it. Instead his mind was racing furiously through the darkling chords.

  “Mery,” he whispered. “You must play this with expression. You won’t like it, but you must. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Leoff,” she replied primly.

  “Areana, you’ll sing this top line. Use the words from Sa Luth af Erpoel.” He dropped his voice even lower. “Here—this is very important.”

  He penciled in new notes on the last three measures. “You must both hum these beneath your breath. Ontro Vobo, yes?”

  Areana’s eyes widened, and he saw her swallow hard, but she nodded.

  “All right, then,” he said. “Shall we? Mery, if you would begin.”

  “Yes, go on,” Robert said. He didn’t turn from the window.

  Mery placed her fingers on the keyboard, stretching to complete the awkward chord, and pressed. The notes throbbed in the air, a little menacing but mostly intriguing, illicit, the thrill of doing something a bit wicked made sound.

  Mery’s hands grew more sure, and Areana joined, singing words that had absolutely nothing to do with the music but that rang out with a stark sensuality that stirred sudden shameful desire in Leoff, so that as he added his own voice, he found himself helplessly imagining the things he would do to her, the ways he could bring pleasure and pain to her lithe body.

  The song was a death spell, but it had to be built. Playing the last chord wouldn’t do anything unless the listener had been drawn to the edge of the precipice.

  Until now, the mode had been a modified form of the sixth mode, but now Mery took them with a frantic run of notes into the seventh, and lust subtly became madness. He heard Robert laugh out loud, and a look around the room at open mouths or tight grins told Leoff that they were all insane with him.

  Even Areana’s eyes sparkled feverishly, and Mery was gasping for breath as it all quickened into a lumbering whervel and then softened, shifting into the mode for which Leoff had no name, spreading out into broad chords.

  The world seemed to sag underfoot, but Areana’s voice was black joy. Fear was gone, and all that remained was the longing for night’s infinite embrace, for the touch of decay, that most patient, inevitable, and thorough lover. He felt his bones straining to slough free of his flesh and then rot like tissue.

  The end was coming, but he no longer wanted to sing the extra notes. Why should he? What could be better than this? An end to pain and striving…rest forever…

  Distantly, he felt a hand grip his, and Areana leaned close, no longer singing. But she hummed in his ear.

  He drew a painful, horrible breath and realized he hadn’t been breathing. Shaking his head, he took up the hastily written counterpoint, though it seemed to cut through his brain like an ax. He doubled over, still humming, trying to cover his ears, but his hands were like stones, falling to the floor, and black spots filled his vision. His heart beat weirdly, stopped for a long moment, then thumped as if it would explode.

  He found his face was pressed against the stone. Areana had collapsed beside him, and in a fevered panic he reached for her, fearing her dead. But no, she was breathing.

  “Mery.”

  The girl was slumped at the hammarharp, eyes open and blank, spittle on her chin. Her fingers were still on the keys, jerking madly but not pressing to produce sound.

  Everyone else in the room lay on the floor, unmoving.

  Except for Robert, who still stood gazing out the window, stroking his beard.

  Forcing his legs to work, Leoff crawled to Mery and pulled her down into his arms. Areana was trying to sit up, and Leoff drew the three of them together, where they huddled, trembling.

  Mery had started a sort of hiccupping, and Leoff tried to stroke her hair with the club of his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Mery.”

  “Well,” Robert said, turning at last. “Very pretty, just as you promised.” He strode over to the man he’d called Noose, who lay facedown in a pool of his own vomit. He kicked him in the ribs, hard. Then he knelt, touched his hand to the assassin’s neck, and moved on to Lord Respell, who had fallen against the wall in a sitting position. Respell’s eyes were still open, frozen in a look of adoration. Robert drew a knife and cut the arteries in Respell’s neck. A bit of blood drooled out, but it was clear no heart was pumping.


  “Very good,” Robert murmured, “All quite dead. Very good.” He strode over to the hammarharp, took the score, and began rolling it up.

  “This was just what I wanted,” he said. “I commend you on a job well done.”

  “You knew?”

  “I thought that old book might be useful,” Robert confided with an awful false joviality. “Not to me, but I had it in mind that you might be able to unravel its secrets, if properly motivated.”

  “You’re horrible,” Areana managed to croak.

  “Horrible?” Robert sniffed. “Is that the best you can do?”

  He slipped the manuscrift into an oiled leather scroll case.

  Leoff thought he heard a faint commotion coming from the door. Groaning, he forced himself to his feet and scooped up Mery.

  “Run,” he wheezed.

  “Oh, come now,” Robert began, but Leoff was concentrating on fighting the vertigo, on staying balanced on his legs. Areana was right behind him.

  They broke out into the hall and stumbled toward the stairs.

  “This is really annoying,” Robert called from behind.

  Leoff tripped on the stair, but Areana caught him. His lungs hurt, he needed to stop, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t…

  Why hadn’t Robert died? Had he plugged his ears? Leoff hadn’t noticed anything.

  He watched his feet as if they weren’t part of him because they didn’t feel like they were. He knew they were moving too slowly, as in a Black Mary. He remembered Robert’s dagger, wet with blood, couldn’t look back for fear of seeing it cut Areana’s beautiful, soft throat…

  Then suddenly they were face to face with men in armor.

  “No!” Areana cried, and lurched forward, but the men caught her—and then Leoff and Mery—in strong arms.

  It was then that Leoff noticed the woman who was with them, the same woman who had come to free him from his cell.

  “You are safe,” she said. “Robert is still up there?”

  “Yes,” he gasped.

  “With how many men?”

  “It’s just him.”

  She nodded, then spoke to one of the soldiers.

  “Take them back to Eslen. Make them comfortable and see that a leic tends them immediately. Her Majesty will want the best for them.”

  In a daze, no longer able to resist even if he wanted to, Leoff allowed himself to be carried outside to where many more men and several wains waited.

  On the wagon, he let his muscles unfurl and lay back in the warm sun. Mery had begun to cry, which he hoped was a good sign.

  “I never gave up hope,” Areana told him. “I remembered what you said.”

  “You saved us,” Leoff replied. “You saved me.”

  They rested against each other, with Mery between them. The sun on Leoff’s skin felt clean and real, a thing apart from horror.

  Except…

  “I’ve given Robert something terrible,” he murmured. “An awful weapon.”

  “You’ll fix it,” Mery whispered, sounding tired but firm.

  “Mery? Are you all right?”

  “You’ll fix it,” she repeated. Then she fell asleep.

  It was silly, the faith of a six-year-old, but it made Leoff feel better. And long before they reached Eslen, he’d joined Mery in slumber.

  NEIL AWOKE to clatter and fuss. He was in an airy chamber, lying on good linen, and he felt terrible.

  A glance around showed him that he was surrounded by the wounded. He tried to sit up and then thought better of it. Instead he lay there, trying to piece together his memories.

  The battle for the waerd; he remembered that pretty well, but everything after was spotty. He thought he’d been on a boat at one point and had heard a familiar voice. Then he remembered leafless trees covered in black ravens, but that might have been a dream.

  And then—certainly this was a dream—a very long run down a dark tunnel, crowded with people; some he knew, some he didn’t. Of those he knew, some were dead, some still living.

  He found he’d closed his eyes again and opened them to see a young lady in a wimple offering him water. He took it, amazed at how good it tasted. The sunlight coming through the window reminded him of pollen, of being very young, lying in the clover watching the bees work, before he had ever lifted a war board or seen a man die.

  “What’s happened?” he asked the woman.

  “What do you mean?” she replied.

  “Is this Eslen?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re in the Liexguildhouse. You’re very lucky. Saint Dun had you, but he let you return to us.”

  She beamed at him, then lifted a finger.

  “A moment. I’ve been asked to report when you’re awake.”

  She scurried off before he could ask another question.

  But only moments later, a shadow fell across him and drew his eyes up.

  “Your Majesty,” he murmured, trying again to rise.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t stir. I’ve been waiting for you to wake, and I’d hate to kill you with my presence. Oh, and you might as well get used to calling me Queen Mother.”

  “As you wish, Queen Mother,” he replied. “You look well.”

  “You’ve looked better,” Muriele allowed. “But I’m told you really ought to be dead. If the Church still held any sway in this city, you might be tried for shinecraft.”

  Neil blinked. She had meant it as a joke, of course, but he suddenly recalled his vision of Brinna’s face. Brinna, who had saved his life once, somehow had used a part of her own life to do it. Could she have done it again, from afar? Did he owe her his life again?

  “Sir Neil?” Muriele asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “A wild fancy.” His eyes felt tired, but he forced them open.

  “You’ve no idea how happy I am you’re alive,” Neil told her.

  “I’m very pleased myself,” the queen mother replied. “And extremely pleased with you, my friend. You brought my daughter back to me. And you brought her back as a queen. I cannot think how to thank you.”

  “No thanks—”

  “Of course,” Muriele replied. “But you must let me do something for you.”

  “You can tell me what happened,” he said. “I don’t remember much after the waerd.”

  She smiled. “I missed most of it myself, but I’ve been awake to ask questions. After you fell, Artwair took the waerd with few additional losses and, having done that, managed to break the Thornrath gate in a matter of bells. Sir Fail brought his fleet in, and the wind was with them.

  “While all of that was going on, however, my reckless daughter invaded the inner keep through the dungeons, with a relative handful of Sefry. Robert’s forces were thin in the castle, however, either marshaling to fight Artwair and Fail on the King’s Poel or dealing with the insurrection in Gobelin Court. So Anne and her Sefry took the inner keep without much trouble.

  “The fight in the outer keep was bloodier, but Anne had reinforcements from Artwair by then.”

  “Wait,” Neil said. “I’m sorry, Highness, but I think I missed part of your story. Anne went into the castle with Robert’s permission, but it was a trap. How did she get Sefry troops? Or reinforcements?”

  “That’s a much longer story, and it needs to be told in private,” Muriele said. “Suffice it to say that when the men on the outer Fastness understood they were being attacked from both sides—and that the monarch they were fighting for had apparently vanished—things ended without the horror of bloodshed we might have had.”

  “That’s a mercy,” Neil said, remembering the piles of bodies around him at Thornrath. He knew what she meant, of course.

  “Anne is queen, then?” he added.

  “Regent. She must be confirmed by the Comven, but that seems fairly certain, since Robert’s cronies have been set to their heels or are imprisoned, awaiting trial.”

  “So all is well,” Neil said.

  “Well enough,” sh
e replied. “At least until Robert returns with the armies of Hansa and the Church.”

  “You think that likely?” Neil asked.

  “Very likely, indeed. But that is, as they say, a worry for another day. Mend up, Sir Neil. We’ve use for you yet.”

  Aspar bit hard into the aspen branch Leshya had placed in his mouth as she popped the bone in his leg into its proper place. The agony actually left spots in his eyes, as if he’d tried to look into the sun.

  “That’s the worst of it,” she promised as she began to tie the splint. Beneath her broad-brimmed hat she looked drawn and pale, even for a Sefry.

  “You shouldn’t have left Dunmrogh for another month,” he said. “Your wounds—”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “And if I’d stayed any longer, you’d be dead now.”

  “Yah,” Aspar said. “About that—”

  “No thanks are necessary.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  “I know,” she said, inspecting her splinting. Then she looked at him. “I left Dunmrogh as soon as I could stand,” she explained.

  “Why?”

  She seemed to consider for a moment.

  “I thought you would need my help.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s all? That’s it? You were full of holes, Leshya, deep ones, and that needs time. What if you had died?”

  “Then I’d be dead,” she said cheerfully. “But I get feelings. I hear things on the wind, and sometimes I see things that haven’t happened yet. And I saw you, facing off against the khriim, and reckoned you might need my help.”

  “The what?”

  “The sedhmhar. The big thing you killed.”

  He frowned. “You saw me?”

  “Through a teardrop. Up on the cliff, trying to get your bow strung.”

  He shook his head skeptically. “You could never have tracked me here that fast, not unless you left a day after I did, and I know you couldn’t have gotten up that soon. You were almost dead.”

  “I didn’t track you,” she said. “I recognized the place and came straight here.”