If he kills Lord Norden’s son, there’ll be the Crone to pay. Kolin will be sent away—or worse—just when the queen needs his protection most. She’ll be discredited, and Norden will make it all the harder for her to rule. I’m not that important.
Aidane looked down, sniffing back the last of the tears. “I went down to the courtyard because a ghost called to me. Someone… jumped me… between the buildings. I got away from him.” She swallowed hard, embarrassed. “It’s over.”
Kolin stood so still that she might have thought him carved from stone. She knew he did not need to breathe, but now, he did not blink, or move at all. “Jumped you,” he repeated in a cold voice that told her he had filled in the details she omitted. “On the palace grounds, someone tried to force you—”
“I’m just a whore, Kolin. It’s not like my virtue was at stake.”
“Sweet Istra, Mother of Shadows,” he murmured.
Against her will, the tears began to flow, and Kolin took a step closer, folding her into his arms and letting her cry against him. He was warm; she guessed that he had fed recently. “Have you seen a healer?”
“I don’t want there to be talk.”
Kolin steered her to a chair near the fire. He took a wash rag from the basin on the stand near the bed and wrung it out, and then he opened a window and held the wet rag in the cold night air for a few minutes. He walked back and knelt in front of her, gently holding the cold compress to the bruise on her cheek.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“It will take some of the sting out, at least. I’ll get the servants to bring up some herbs. I think I still recall how my mother made a poultice for my brother and me. We were always banging ourselves up,” he said, and went to the door, where he conferred in low tones with a passing servant. In a moment, he returned, and Aidane could tell from the look in his eyes that he had not abandoned the idea of retribution.
He said nothing until the servant brought him what he had requested. Kolin mixed a paste of herbs and gently spread the mixture with his fingertips on the worst of Aidane’s bruises and cuts. His touch was so gentle that Aidane struggled not to cry at the unaccustomed show of tenderness. When he was finished, Kolin sat back and met her gaze.
“Who did this?” he asked quietly.
Aidane looked down. “He threatened to create problems for the queen. He could make it difficult for you, too. Please, you can’t do anything.”
Kolin’s blue eyes had a haunted look. “I knew Elsbet’s father could be violent, but I didn’t think he’d really hurt her. I didn’t act quickly enough, and he killed her. I made that mistake once. I won’t make it a second time.” Kolin folded Aidane’s hand between both of his. “I promise you I won’t do anything before the festival tonight. But afterward, I need you to tell me the truth. I need to protect you and the queen.”
“Who will believe a whore’s word? If I were a noblewoman, someone might care about a threat to my virtue. But I’m not noble, or virtuous. I’ve heard the talk when people thought I wasn’t around. There’s no shortage of courtiers who would be glad to see me gone. You can’t risk the queen’s credibility. I’m not worth it.”
Aidane saw a stubborn glint in Kolin’s blue eyes. “Let me be the judge of that.” His expression softened, and he kissed her gently on the top of her head. “It’s time for you to get ready for the banquet.”
Aidane reached up to touch her bruised cheek. “I can’t go out like this. People really will talk. I’m so sorry. I was looking forward to going with you. Please, make my excuses to the queen. Tell her I’m not feeling well.” The latter was true, both from the bruises all over her body that were beginning to throb and from the ache in her heart at Kolin’s devotion and the knowledge that it didn’t change her need to leave.
Kolin hesitated, and then nodded. “All right. But I’ll hold you to your promise of a dance at the very next opportunity.”
Aidane felt tears well in her eyes, and she hoped Kolin misread the reason as disappointment over missing the festivities. I don’t dare stay, even for Kolin. He can’t protect me without damaging the queen. For both their sakes, I have to go. When I finally find what I’ve always wanted, I can’t keep it. “That would be wonderful,” she said, her throat closing on her words.
“I’ll be up to see you after the festival is over. You should be safe here in your room.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead at the door. Aidane closed it behind him and covered her face with her hands.
She had been correct in her guess that no one would notice one more hooded traveler amid the feast night revelry, Aidane thought bitterly. She carried only the small sack with the clothing she had brought with her, leaving behind the gowns the queen had given to her lest anyone accuse her of theft. On the writing desk, she left a note for the queen, thanking her for her kindness and explaining that she did not wish to be an embarrassment and so must leave. Wrapped in the note was the garnet necklace. The letter to Kolin had taken longer to write. No matter how many times she worked through the wording in her mind, it never came out quite right. In the end, the best she could do was to tell him that, while she loved him, he deserved much better, someone less shopworn. She left the onyx bracelet in the folds of the note, but not before she had tried it on again and held it to her heart.
Aidane slipped unnoticed from the city gate, leaving the revelry in the courtyard behind her, though the sound of the musicians’ tunes and the voices of the revelers carried on the cold night air, echoing down the narrow, winding streets.
In the common grazing area at the edge of town, a different type of gathering marked the feast night. A burning length of rope was stretched between two iron posts. Next to each post were shocks of burning cornstalks. Aidane recognized it as the Need-fire, a gathering more to do with the fear of plague and a crazy butcher loose in the streets than with any deity or festival. Villagers young and old lined up to pass through the fire, driving their frightened children, sheep, and cattle on before them. Passing through the flames was thought to drive out the ill humours of the plague, and it was said by some to protect against madness. Aidane shivered, giving the commons a wide pass. Deep inside, she doubted that either plague or madness was so easily held at bay.
She had left the palace in a rush, but now that she stood outside the wall in the cold night air, she faltered, unsure of where to go. Although Jolie had offered her a position, Jolie was in Dark Haven, and Aidane knew that leaving Principality City was not an option, with the army gone to war and invaders off the coast. I’m certainly not going back to Nargi, she thought wryly. The borders to Dhasson and Margolan were closed. Both kingdoms were even more ravaged by plague than Principality, and she was uncertain of the welcome someone with her gifts might receive.
No, Principality with its mercs and traders from across the Winter Kingdom was the most likely to enable her to disappear among its many colorful wanderers. It was also a kingdom that did not look too closely at one’s papers or parentage, a place where the disgraced and those with nothing left to lose reinvented themselves as smugglers and mercenaries. Just right for a serroquette with powerful enemies.
After the bright flames of the Need-fire, the shadows in the twisting alleys seemed darker than ever. Aidane hugged her cloak closer, wary of every sound. She had a few coins from the journey to Principality, enough to pay for a cheap room and enough bread and cheese to last a few days. She dared not work as a serroquette; the gift was rare enough under any circumstances, but it was all too likely to give her away now that she needed to remain hidden. But there was always work for whores, especially in a place like Principality City where most people were just passing through.
This time, instead of burying my gold for an escape fund, I’ll save it, maybe open a little shop, she mused. I won’t have my looks and figure forever. I wouldn’t open a brothel. No. Perhaps I’ll buy a spinning wheel and some dyes and spin wool to make warm shawls for the winter—
A sudden noise in the shadows stirred Aidane
from her thoughts. Too late, she realized that she hadn’t been paying attention. Now that she concentrated, she could feel the pull of spirits calling to her. Some were the newly dead, taken by plague, who wanted her to carry messages to the living. Others recognized her gift and offered her gold to let them lie one more night with a lost beloved. Darker spirits hovered at the edge of her consciousness, eager to seize on any weakness for the chance to possess her and take her life for their own.
This part of the city was deserted, strange for a feast night when Aidane expected to see even the poorest abroad in the streets. The buildings were in disrepair, and their windows were dark. Aidane quickened her step. The air grew colder, proof not only of it being late autumn but also that spirits were near.
Her footsteps echoed on the cobblestones. The spirits crowded around her, begging, seducing, warning.
You’re cold, let me fill you.
Take me to my lover, I beg of you.
Please, just one more night.
He’s coming. Run!
The last voice was louder than the rest, and at its warning, Aidane felt a thrill of terror run through the other spirits that badgered her. It’s him! Get away! Run!
Heeding the spirits, Aidane began running, though she had no idea of where she was going, or whether she would blunder into whoever it was that the spirits found frightening. As quickly as they had come, the spirits fled, all except for the one who had warned her.
The ghost who stayed with her was a woman, and the image Aidane received was of someone just a few years older than herself, dressed in the tawdry clothing of a cheap strumpet. You can’t outrun him.
Who?
Buka. The butcher. He’ll hear you running. You can’t hide. I know. I tried.
Aidane felt her heartbeat speed at the name of the killer. I don’t know where to go. I don’t know where I am.
In here. The ghost led her through a broken door and down a set of rickety wooden steps and into the basement of one of the abandoned buildings that lined the street. If it hadn’t been for the faint luminescence of the ghost, Aidane would have been blinded in the darkness. Down here. Hurry.
Aidane followed the ghost warily, but she decided that whatever was in front of her could not possibly be as bad as what was behind her. The ghost led her through a narrow brick passageway that went from one cellar to the next, and then to another set of stairs. These steps were cut into the rock itself, and cool air rushed up to meet Aidane as she hesitated at the top.
He won’t find you down here, but you have to hurry.
Where does this lead?
To the caves. You’ll see. People are down there. Too many for him to follow.
Aidane saw no real choice. She heard footsteps in the distance, close enough to be in the first cellar. She took a deep breath and made her way carefully down the shallow stone steps. At the bottom, a mix of scents reached her. She could smell the damp and mildew of a root cellar or cavern, but she also caught the faint aroma of distant cooking, of sweat, and of smoky fires.
Don’t dawdle! Hurry!
Following the glow of the ghost, Aidane stumbled along a corridor barely wide enough for her shoulders. They turned a corner, and dim light flooded a large cavern room. Aidane had to squint for a moment after the near darkness. A torch flickered in a rough sconce, enough to give light sufficient for Aidane to make her way across the room toward where the corridor continued. The room was empty of people, but it was obvious that many had come this way, and recently. Broken wine bottles, greasy bones, and tatters of soiled clothing littered the floor. It smelled as though more than one person had relieved himself along the room’s walls. Swallowing hard, Aidane followed the orb of blue light that was her ghostly guide.
After a few steps, the corridor once again opened up to a large room. This was a tannery, and the smell of stale urine from the tanning pits almost made Aidane gag. A narrow walkway led among the pits. Under torchlight, two scabrous men and a few scrawny boys tamped the hides into the noxious brew. They looked up at Aidane’s entrance.
“Come to cheer us up, dearie? Come over here, and I’ll warm your bones.”
Aidane did not look up, but kept her focus on navigating the narrow walkway.
“See, even the whores think they’re better than the likes of us,” replied the second man. “Roll me in flowers, darlin’, and I’ll show you I’m man enough for you.”
Aidane let out a relieved breath as she left the tanner behind, following the path upward to a new room. Inside, a few women and half a dozen ragged children made their home in a squalid cave room barely a dozen paces wide. The room smelled of sweat and spoiled milk and rough liquor. Two hollow-eyed women barely spared Aidane a glance, though one of the young children raised a finger to point at the blue orb that led Aidane deeper into the caverns.
Where are we? Aidane asked the rescuing spirit.
In the bowels of Principality City. Where people go when there’s nowhere left to hide.
Back in Nargi, Aidane knew of places like this beneath Colsharti, warrens of caverns, closed-off tunnels, and forgotten basements inhabited by the most desperate and destitute. She followed the blue orb through a series of places where the cave walls had been chipped and gouged into rooms. Some were home to cracked-tooth merchants who held out handfuls of dreamweed and stalks of bitwort, while in others, hunched-over hags called out to offer pessaries and worm fern to be rid of an inconvenient pregnancy. Only her fear of Buka enabled Aidane to overcome her terror and keep moving forward. Her ghostly guide, while quite visible to Aidane, did not seem to be noticed by anyone but the children. Perhaps, Aidane thought, it was because the adults gave her bleary-eyed looks that suggested they were too besotted by liquor or numbed by dreamweed to care. She lost count of how many squalid rooms and branching corridors the ghost led her through. Aidane despaired of ever finding her way to the open air again. Finally, the orb slowed as they approached yet another doorway. Even before Aidane reached the opening, she could hear the buzz of voices, the click of rolling dice, and peals of drunken laughter. Tendrils of pipe smoke curled from inside, and the air was heavy with the smell of river rum and the bitter ale that better innkeepers referred to derisively as “trough beer.”
Aidane saw the orb change into the glowing outline of the ghost once more. See the tavern keeper. Name’s Kir. He was a friend of mine. He’s down here because of bad luck, not on the run like most. Tell him you’re a friend of Surrie. That’s me. He’ll find you a place to sleep and make sure no one bothers you. In the morning, he can help you get out.
Thank you. I don’t know—
Watch out for Buka. He’ll kill anyone, but he likes our kind best. Whores.
Is that… how you died?
Surrie’s ghost nodded. Caught me not far from where you were. Didn’t want to take his pleasure, just wanted my blood. Cut me up like a pig and dumped what was left in the sewer.
Why do you stay on? I’m not a summoner, but I can say a prayer to the Lady for your passage.
The ghost’s expression grew bleak. Even a summoner can’t help me. Buka took my skull, breastbone, and right hand before he dumped the other pieces. Made an offering on an altar made of bones. Sang and danced and cut himself he did. I don’t know who he worships and I don’t want to know, but it’s evil, that I’m sure.
Shanthadura, Aidane thought with a sinking feeling. Surrie, have you seen men in black robes in this part of town? Have you seen them with Buka?
Surrie’s ghost gave a harsh laugh. No one’s with Buka but the dead. Even the ghosts run from him. I’ve never seen black-robed men, with him or not.
Thank you, Surrie. If you hadn’t helped me—
You’d be dead, like I am. You’re welcome. Now go see Kir. Mind you don’t go wandering down here by yourself. I brought you in one way, but there are other entrances, and some places are filled with people sick with the plague who’ve come down here to die.
Surrie’s blue orb faded. Aidane stepped through the doorw
ay, into one of the largest rooms she had seen in the underground maze.
The underground tavern bore no sign, but it was full of patrons. Four or five small tables made from barrels were surrounded by threadbare men and women. Some rolled dice, others played cards, and everyone drank. One of the men had a ragged trollop on his knee, while another man regaled all who would listen with obscene jokes as he stood with his arm around a scantily clad girl who was so thin that her bones jutted from her sallow skin.
At one end was a bar made of rough boards. Behind it were stacked a few barrels, as well as several pottery jugs. Aidane could smell the acrid scent of fermenting mash, suggesting that the tavern keeper distilled his own poitin. She mustered her courage and went to the bar.
“I’m looking for Kir.”
A florid faced man looked up from pouring a drink for a customer. “Who wants to know?”
“I’m a friend of Surrie’s.”
The barkeeper gave Aidane a hard stare. “Surrie went missing two nights ago. Do you know where she is?”
Figuring it best to keep her true source to herself for now, Aidane shook her head. “No. But she told me that if I ever needed somewhere safe, to come here and ask for Kir.”
“Who ya runnin’ from?”
“A man who hit me.” Aidane pulled back her hood enough to expose the bruised cheek and blackened eye. It would be enough of a motivation, she thought, if Kir was the type of man to give shelter. And if not, invoking Buka’s name was unlikely to help.
Kir paused as if making up his mind. “You’ll need to earn your keep. How do you earn your coin?”
Aidane let out a long breath. “I’m a whore.”
Kir chuckled. “Lots of those down here. Anything special?”
“I’m a bit of a hedge witch,” she lied. “I read Jalbet cards and tea leaves for a message from spirits.” Kir didn’t need to know that neither the cards nor the tea leaves had anything to do with obtaining a message from the dead, but it might make her unusual enough without standing out too much.
The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two Page 31
