by Dave Gross
I would of course advise Radovan to conceal his identity from such people, but I could not enforce my will upon him. From the start of our association, I assured him that he was my agent, not a servant, although he understood the necessity of allowing my peers to assume otherwise and, to be honest with myself, I had often overlooked the distinction. In the past year especially, my behavior had strained our once comfortable association. He had almost left my service after an unfortunate investigation a year earlier. After all we had endured in Ustalav, I had no reason to expect he would not remain here, where there were people who treated him as the master, not the slave.
“I do not know,” I told Malena. “Perhaps he will stay in this country.”
She smiled at that, and I saw her gaze drift toward the tent where Azra tended Radovan. Despite Azra’s trick with the starknife, which Radovan could not offer to either woman so long as Azra could summon it to her hand at will, I suspected Malena faced a more determined rival than she realized.
“Perhaps you should stay also,” purred Malena.
I raised an eyebrow at her insinuation.
“Here you would be held in high esteem,” she explained, “as a friend of the Prince.”
“Ah,” I said, oddly deflated that I had misinterpreted her overture. My value in her eyes was as a conduit to the prince. “I must return to my work, as I’m sure you understand.”
She smiled hopefully, but she left me with the books. When she was out of sight, I counted them again to be sure they all remained. When I saw that they did, I wondered how much I had feared theft and how much I simply wished to think of her as a thief rather than as a woman who saw me as a stepping stone to a more powerful noble.
Apart from the Codex, the other volumes fell into three categories. Most contained arcane secrets stolen from Tar-Baphon and his agents, presumably via the steal book spell, to which I spied several references upon a light skimming of the text. These were the most valuable by every measure, and I intended to deliver them to my superiors in the Society, the Decemvirate in Absalom.
Another group of books concerned the secret alliance among nobles of Ustalav who, under the cloak of submission, worked to subvert the oppression of the conqueror lich. These could profoundly change modern understanding of Ustalavic history. The financial value alone, both to those who would share the knowledge contained in their pages, and to those who would suppress them, was staggering. That they should remain in Ustalav I determined at once; the problem was deciding in whose care I could entrust them.
Finally, a few books chronicled the lives, both public and personal, of the last king of Ustalav and his immediate descendants, the princes of Malena’s tale. These were perhaps the most dangerous volumes of all we had discovered, not only because of their contradictions to commonly accepted history but because of the support they provided for Radovan’s link to the last undisputed monarch of the country.
Wondering what mischief a lady like Carmilla could make of such materials, I chose one of the latter volumes and pored over its pages. The light was not ideal, but remembering the patrol from Lastwall, I hesitated before discharging a cantrip. If only we had been able to bring Azra’s wagon into the mountains, it could have provided ample shelter for the light.
A wolf howled in the distance, and the Sczarni lifted their heads to listen.
“What is it?” I asked.
Cezar raised a hand to silence me. I did not like his presumption, but I waited until he heard another distant cry.
“Son of bitch,” he said, exploring more of his newly learned Taldane. “Something coming. Something very bad.”
“No,” replied a sonorous voice. Just outside the glow of our campfire, a ring of masked men surrounded us. “Something is already here.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Devil’s Deal
The sudden quiet warned us that something had happened outside the tent.
Wait here, I signed to Azra, knowing in the back of my mind that she’d ignore me. I threw open the tent flap and stepped outside wearing nothing but the blanket that served as my skirt. As soon as I appeared, all eyes were on me.
The Sczarni had already thrown off their clothes and half-transformed, ready for a tussle. Even the freaks clutched their clubs and rakes. I had to chuckle about that, and I couldn’t explain why. Everything was particularly amusing to me since the boss hit me with the fire. Not only did I feel whole, I felt strong, invulnerable. That couldn’t be true, I knew. A peasant farmer had put a pitchfork through my leg the last time I got extra spiky. But still, I felt restless, ready for a little action.
The intruders carried a variety of arms. I saw in their hands long knives, studded clubs, and wicked scythes, all of them with long hooked chains attached to their butts. Their garments were uniformly loose dark gray tunics and trousers, cinched close only at the waist, wrists, and ankles. I noticed no women among them, and they wore masks of what looked like fine pigskin but wasn’t. Like whoever had bound the Lacuna Codex, these creeps worked in human skin. Their false faces were once real ones, patched together from a variety of sources. Their demented craftsman had left certain features in place, the hint of a nose protruding from a cheek, a tuft of beard on the brow, a fringe of eyelashes where the lips should have been. The one thing most of them lacked was an open mouth. Some wore thick stitches imitating a smile or grimace, and others had only blank space where a mouth should have been.
The exception was their leader, whose mask was featureless except for two eyeholes and a flap of skin that served as a veil over his mouth. He’d been talking to the boss, something about surrendering to the inevitable, handing over the books, and a bunch of other stuff we weren’t going to do.
“Who are you mummers meant to be?” I asked, forgetting momentarily that my words came out in the infernal tongue. Still, the blank-faced man turned toward me, and I saw understanding in his eyes. Somehow, I was not surprised.
“We,” said the blank masked one, hissing in the devil tongue, “are the guardians of secrets. Surrender what you have stolen, and your deaths shall be quick.”
“That’s your offer?” I said. “I have a better one. Go now, and you can run for an hour before my wolves and I hunt, kill, and skin you.”
I couldn’t see his expression, but the man locked gazes with me. The frightening thing wasn’t what I’d said. It was that a big part of me meant every word and looked forward to the chase, and the flaying. A tiny corner of my heart recoiled, disgusted with me.
“Leave what you have taken from the vault,” said the masked man, at last reverting to Taldane for all to hear. “Walk away and leave this land forever. I will spare your lives.” His voice sounded familiar, but the pounding of my pulse distracted me. I couldn’t place him.
“Never,” insisted the boss, lifting the Lacuna Codex from the blanket and raising Galdana’s sword to defend it. I noticed it did not glow as it had when he fought the undead. Whatever powers it possessed, we couldn’t count on them to help us.
“Very well,” hissed the intruder. He flicked his fingers, and faster than sight, a pair of his men grabbed one of the villagers and peeled back his shirt. Before the freak could cry out, they sank hooked iron claws into his chest and began to peel away his flesh. An instant later, they pulled their victim out of the fire light, and we could only hear his screams.
“Stop them!” I yelled at the nearest Sczarni, but they could not understand a word I said. Instead, they backed toward the campfire, protecting each other’s flanks. “Tell them to help him,” I shouted to the boss.
He repeated my order, but the half-transformed werewolves hesitated, looking uncertainly between him and me. All the while, the captured villager screamed, his voice appearing first from one direction, then suddenly from another.
“It’s your funeral, little man,” I growled.
I reached for the leader of the masked assassins. My hand was big enough to encircle his throat, but he faded away from my grip. I growled and shot a ki
ck at his legs, but again he evaded me with ease. He struck me just below the sternum with his fingers, reversing his hand to strike again with his palm. I barely felt the strikes after the first blow, but they pulled all my strength out.
“Give us the Codex,” hissed the leader. “And submit yourselves for execution.” Looking back where he had been, I saw nothing but shadows. Behind me, another villager howled as the intruders pulled him into the darkness.
“All right,” I gasped. “Take the books. Leave my people alone!”
“No!” cried the boss. He drew Galdana’s sword and stood protectively over his little library. “Look at their masks. They worship Norgorber, the Keeper of Secrets. They must not have them.”
“Listen, boss,” I began. A dart zipped out of the darkness and struck me on the cheek. I slapped it away, but I already felt the venom burning within me.
Hands slapped my bare back, and I turned to see Azra spinning close around me, whirling with both starknives in hand as she led a fading trail of blue-white light to encircle me.
“Guard the Prince,” cried Malena. She and the other Sczarni rushed to surround me. For the first time in my life, I was the one with the bodyguards.
“No,” I said uselessly. “Look out for the Count. I’m going to get that slippery son of a bitch with the darts.”
Beside me, Tatiana went down hard. I didn’t see what had struck her, but there was no sign of her attacker. An instant later, another villager shrieked in terror, and several of them bolted away to take their chances in the dark. One of them didn’t make it out of the firelight before a chain snaked out and struck his legs, sending him to the ground screaming.
No one was obeying me. Only the boss and our enemy could understand me, and neither was inclined to do so. I felt helpless. I couldn’t just stand here with Azra between me and the assassins, and I’d be damned if I did nothing and heard the villagers die, one by one. I had to do something.
My blanket fell to the ground. Modesty was the least of my concerns, but I was shrinking, and not just because of the cool night air. My fingers were no longer clawed, and my knees were spike-free.
“Wait!” I shouted as loud as I could. My voice was my own again, my words in the common Taldane. “Let’s talk.” I looked over at the boss. He still stood above his precious books, sword raised to defend them.
I waited what felt like minutes, but no more screams pierced the night.
“First,” said that deep voice from the darkness. “Bring me the Codex.”
I went to the boss. He shook his head at me, but he lowered his sword.
“You mustn’t,” he said.
“We have to do something,” I said, clapping him on the arm. “These are my people. I have to protect them.”
He glanced at the leader of the masked assassins, who stood once more at the edge of the firelight. He spoke quietly. “They must not win, Radovan. They are the destroyers of knowledge. They serve a god more awful than you know.”
I gave him another pat on the arm, a gesture so familiar I knew it would have gotten me fired at any other time. “Trust me,” I said.
After a long pause, he let out the breath he had been holding inside. His shoulders slumped, and he looked suddenly much older and infinitely weary. He put the book into my hand.
“Thanks,” I told him.
When I turned back, I saw the assassins’ master waiting for me. Before the fire stood Azra, flanked by the werewolves, and behind them cowered the surviving villagers. Tudor stood among them, both hands clutching a club one of his fellows had dropped. I tipped him a wink to offer him some of the confidence I didn’t entirely feel. I walked toward the masked man, throwing Azra a little sign behind my back. I hoped she was looking. Who was I kidding? Of course she was looking. She couldn’t get enough of me.
My nemesis looked a lot taller up close. Of course, I was a lot shorter now.
“The Codex,” I said, holding up the book. “This is what you really want, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Take this, and get the hell away from us. You don’t get any of the other books. You don’t touch so much as a hair on any of my people. This is the deal.”
“Why should I accept such terms now?” he said, snatching the book from my hands.
“You’re mighty powerful,” I said. “No doubt about that. From what I can see, your men could kill just about everyone here.”
He said nothing, so I said it for him. “Me? I’m not that powerful. But with a little help, I could definitely kill one man before I die.”
Azra’s got some great timing. On my last word, she crashed her starknives together like cymbals, but instead of sound ringing out a purple light flashed directly over the man, and I saw him shudder as the curse took hold. He darted to one side, but then I heard the riffle of one of the boss’s scrolls and a globe of white light flared atop the man’s masked head.
“We might all die,” I yelled for all to hear, “but before we fall we’ll fight you tooth and claw, we’ll curse you and burn you and stab you in the heart.”
“And by ‘you,’” I said, pointing at the assassins’ leader, “I mean ‘you.’”
He crouched, ready to run or attack me, I couldn’t tell.
“Sound good?” I called.
“Yes, my Prince,” called Cezar. “To the death.”
The villagers uttered a frightened murmur of assent, then repeated it in a brave chorus. “Yes!”
Finally, from my right side, Count Varian Jeggare said, “I’ve got your back, boss.”
Our enemy stood motionless, thinking as he clutched the Codex to his chest. The way he tensed, I could tell he was about to bark a command and leap out of range. I prepared myself to jump after him, but then we heard the low growling from the darkness.
We looked around together, and everywhere we saw yellow eyes glimmering just beyond the firelight. I counted thirteen pairs before I gave up. There were more than a few wolves out there. More than one family. There was a whole pack of Sczarni.
The masked man stood motionless. The mountain was silent except for the low growl of the reinforcements Baba and the others must have fetched. I raised my hand, and even the growling stopped.
“You must leave Ustalav,” said my foe.
“Radovan,” said the boss. “Don’t let him take the Codex.”
“No,” I said. “A deal’s a deal. That is assuming you accept.”
His eyes went wide under the mask, and I realized where I’d seen him before.
“We accept,” he said. I could tell now he was trying to disguise his voice, but it was too late. “But within a month you and your master must leave Ustalav, never to return.”
“Gladly,” I said.
“Give him your word,” said the boss.
The masked man glared at the boss but answered me. “I give you my word,” he said. “I give you my word as a gentleman.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amends
In my absence, Willowmourn had transformed into a military camp. At the closed outer gates, which I had glimpsed only in moonlight the night of my escape, six alert guards greeted our arrival. Beyond them, I saw more guards patrolling the grounds. Gardeners had cut away the burned portions of the hedge maze, revealing a bare plaza where the enormous topiary boar had perished. It would take years to restore the wonderful garden.
Two guards emerged from the gate while three remained behind its iron bars, their crossbows at the ready. The fourth mounted a horse, preparing to flee to the manor at any sign of aggression. I was grateful for the first time that the Sczarni had left us as soon as we returned to Tudor’s village. Their absence during our journey across the plains of Amaans had made me keenly aware of our vulnerability to attack. I had re-inscribed the riffle scrolls with my most potent combat spells, but I had lost several during our fight in the tomb and had insufficient remaining materials to replace them all.
I bade Arnisant remain with Azra and Radovan, with whom I exchanged a
s few words as possible since his betrayal in the mountains. I met the guards, identified myself, and informed them of the purpose of my visit. The commander gave a message to the rider and courteously requested I await the reply from the house.
Radovan and Arnisant joined me while I waited. Radovan brought me my travel satchel, Galdana’s sword pinched securely in its mouth. Azra drove her wagon toward the river’s edge, just beyond the walls of the estate.
“She might prefer the security of the estate,” I told Radovan. “Assuming the Count extends his hospitality after I abused it in his absence.”
He nodded but said, “I think she’d prefer a little privacy.”
I raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Well, we’d both prefer it,” he said.
“Very good,” I replied. If I had been less despondent over the loss of the Lacuna Codex, I might have congratulated him or, to be more honest with myself, tweaked him for the incongruity of a match between my bodyguard, a former member of the worst street gang in Cheliax, and a cleric of two deities. I still could not fathom her dual association, but further inquiry would have to wait until after I had settled my more pressing obligations.
“Listen, boss,” he said. The familiar preamble indicated he was about to offer an excuse that I did not wish to hear. Detecting my impatience, he reached into one of the remaining pockets of his tattered red jacket. “I didn’t want to risk your using this earlier, but now that we’re here, and assuming Galdana is the sort of fellow you trust ...” He pressed one of my missing riffle scrolls into my hands. It was the steal book scroll, which I had feared lost during the fight in the secret vault. I saw by the glimmer of its page edges that it had been activated.
“How—?” I began, but the answer was obvious. Radovan had picked my pocket before facing Count Senir in his guise as the leader of the Keepers of Secrets.
“I didn’t want to flash the thing around on the open road,” he said. “I’d figured there’d be plenty of time to use that thing later, preferably when we’re back in Cheliax, or at least far out at sea.”
