* * *
“Has the lad been dealt with?” Lhaurent den'Karthus's oil slick voice was smooth with a lack of care.
Jherrick stood at attention in the hard yellow lantern light of the octagonal room. Accessed through the Hinterhaft, this room had clearly been made for war-council during times of siege long ago, occupied by a massive octagonal table and throne-carven chairs going to dust. Hard-toothed iron chandeliers swept the highest gables, their candles unlit for eons. Lhaurent den'Karthus sat in the largest of the thrones in his impeccable grey velvet doublet and robe, pouring over a red-inked map spread upon the table.
Without looking up, he sipped a cup of tea.
“Well, den'Tharn?”
“He's been dealt with.” Jherrick's voice was colder than the iron in the chandeliers.
Castellan Lhaurent glanced up, his attention piercing Jherrick to the quick. “Do you have something you'd like to say, Khehemnas?”
Jherrick stilled his emotions, blank. “I serve the Khehemni Lothren. Whatever their bidding.”
Lhaurent kept him pinned for a long moment more. “Good.” He murmured at last. “Then I have another task for you.”
“May the Lothren guide me.” Jherrick knew the words. Although he wasn't so certain about this particular member of the Lothren. The dead boy had not been Alrashemni, nor even descended. That hadn't been for the Khehemni cause, killing that boy. That had just been murder, ordered by Castellan Lhaurent to keep the Hinterhaft of Roushenn Palace a secret.
Something in his tone must have pricked Lhaurent, because those steel-grey eyes were still watching Jherrick.
“Careful, my young friend,” Lhaurent murmured. “Sometimes the blood of innocents must spill to serve our larger function. Do not forget why you chose to swear allegiance to the Broken Circle. The memories of Khehemni are long, Jherrick. Remember the Kingsmen who slew your family and the reason your vows were made. And understand that the Khehemni Lothren guide you now to greater purpose. Sometimes, that purpose will show you the Broken Circle within yourself. Where you are tempted to be merciful, you must hone yourself. You have sworn to be the weapon of the Broken Circle, the tip of the spear for the Khehemni Lothren's purpose. Remember that all we do, we do for you.”
“Yes, my Lothren.”
Lhaurent eyed him a moment further. He settled his teacup upon its fine gilt-edged saucer with a soft clink. “I believe you have rounds this evening in the West Guardhouse? With Captain Olea den'Alrahel?”
“Yes, my Lothren.”
“Then I have a new assignment for you.”
“Yes, my Lothren.”
“Keep a close watch upon your Captain-General. She is serving a purpose currently for the Dhenra Elyasin, something outside her usual duties, and the Lothren want to know what it is. You are dismissed from your regular interrogations and other tasks in the Hinterhaft until we know what Olea den'Alrahel is up to. If it's something decidedly intrusive to our purposes... we will have to arrange a way of disposing of her. She has become... less than cooperative lately with me.”
“Yes, my Lothren.” Jherrick eased, knowing he was dismissed from interrogations and corpse clean-up for a while. But something inside him clenched at Lhaurent for having leveled a threat against the Guard's Captain-General. Jherrick made his body serene and his face empty, in the way that he had trained now for so many years. Lhaurent would never know about that thought.
Nor would he ever know about Jherrick's mercy with the dead boy.
“I will do my duty, sir.” Jherrick murmured.
Lhaurent gazed at him for a long moment. At last, he waved one regal white hand, his ruby ring catching the light and flashing red. “Dismissed.”
Blackmark (The Kingsmen Chronicles #1): An Epic Fantasy Adventure Sword and Highland Magic Page 10
