The Traitor's Daughter

by Paula Brandon

  Yvenza Belandor laughed out loud at that. “So young and such a cynic, else a simpleton,” she observed. “You haven’t been listening to me, girl. Or perhaps you’re slow of understanding. I say that we haven’t taken you for your father’s coin, although you may be certain he’ll pay dearly. In the end, he’ll give all that he owns. Or I might more properly promise that he’ll give back all that he stole.”

  Any reply was sure to be wrong. Jianna said nothing.

  Observing her keenly, Yvenza observed, “I begin to perceive that you are less dull-witted than genuinely ignorant. Your father, doubtless relishing the sweet flood of daughterly affection, has gone to some lengths to preserve your innocence. He’s told you little or nothing of your family history.”

  “He’s told me to disregard the slander of his enemies,” Jianna returned. “And so I do.”

  “And do you similarly disregard the recollections of your kin? I’ll share a few of my favorites with you,” Yvenza offered amiably. “Let me transport you back in time some twenty-five years or so. The civil wars have recently concluded and the dynastic issues have been resolved, not precisely to the satisfaction of all concerned. The island of Faerlonne, ancient seat of art and learning, has succumbed to the military vigor of neighboring Taerleez. Faerlonne is occupied by Taerleezi forces, and what was once a sister state of the Veiled Isles is now regarded as a conquered enemy. The Faerlonnish citizens are disenfranchised, stripped of their property, taxed to the verge of starvation, and subjected to new laws too unjust and outrageous to accept without a sense of degradation.

  “My husband, the Magnifico Onarto, has forfeited the bulk of his fortune and property. He has seen his brothers and his closest friends die in the wars, and he himself has lost his right arm. For all of that, he is one of the more fortunate among the Faerlonnish. As head of one of the Six Houses of the Veiled Isles, he’s been permitted to retain his title, the family house in Vitrisi, and enough money to sustain a life of sorts. Those Belandor family members residing with the Magnifico are comparatively safe from the worst of the Taerleezi persecutions, and they will not starve. Mindful of his favored position, the Magnifico Onarto extends protection and hospitality to as many of his relatives as he is able to shelter beneath his roof.

  “Among them is included Aureste Belandor, a second cousin sprung of a poor family branch, energetic and intelligent, but ambitious, ruthless, and reputedly treacherous. Onarto is warned, but he is generous of heart and chooses to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt. It is the mistake of a lifetime. Not six months following Aureste Belandor’s arrival, the Magnifico Onarto is secretly denounced as an active enemy of the Taerleezi regime—a saboteur, terrorist, and conspirator. If he is taken and tried, he will suffer torture prior to public execution. As it is, he receives warning in time to flee Vitrisi with his wife, children, and several retainers. The fugitive family finds refuge in a wilderness stronghouse called Ironheart, and there they live as outlaws. The traitor Aureste remains in the city as new heir to the Belandor title and fortune, courtesy of his Taerleezi cronies, whose favor he has courted at the cost of all loyalty and honor. Tell me, little maidenlady—what do you think of the tale so far?”

  The woman had not abandoned her air of pleasant equanimity. Jianna, sensing the imminence of explosion, felt her jaw muscles tighten. Loath to display weakness, she met the other’s eyes and replied evenly, “You speak of the traitor Aureste, but where’s the proof against him? You claim that the Magnifico Onarto was secretly denounced. If that’s true, what right have you to assume that Aureste did it?”

  “Ha. Logical questions, evidence of a mind at work.” Yvenza’s air of ominous amusement remained intact. “You will be disappointed to learn, however, that the matter scarcely amounted to a mystery. Aureste stood to profit hugely by his benefactor’s downfall. Moreover, his character was by that time known to all.”

  “Is that what you call evidence?” Jianna dared to speak with a hint of scorn. “And what of the charges against this Magnifico Onarto? You haven’t said, or even seemed to care, if they were justified or not. Was he in truth a saboteur and terrorist? If so, was it wrong to stop him?”

  “Someone will have to file the edges off that tongue,” Onartino remarked.

  “Patience; let her ask what she pleases,” his mother decreed. “It’s more than time that she learn the truth.”

  “Truth?” Jianna shook her head. “So far I’ve heard only lies about my father.”

  “Mother never lies,” Trecchio interjected.

  “Quiet, boy,” Yvenza told him. “Give my little niece a fair chance to digest a deal of new information. It’s all unfamiliar to her, and she hasn’t even heard the whole of the story. Let us continue her education, while observing the effects of instruction upon an impressionable young mind.” Refreshing herself with a sip of wine, she resumed.

  “You might imagine that the new Magnifico Belandor, satisfied with his stolen property and title, would permit his disgraced fugitive cousin Onarto to eke out a wilderness existence in peace, but such was not the case. Evidently troubled by his wronged kinsman’s mere presence in the world, Aureste Belandor issued orders, and Onarto vanished from the very heart of his supposedly hidden fastness. Three days later, his remains were discovered in the woods, not a quarter hour’s walk from this stronghouse. The cord embedded in the flesh of his neck described the method of execution. The beasts of the forest had partially devoured his body. The birds and insects had likewise been at work, but I had no difficulty identifying my husband.”

  They did not intend to ask for ransom. They hated her father unreasoningly, wanted vengeance, and doubtless meant to kill her in as gruesome a manner as they could devise. But she would not give them the satisfaction of witnessing her terror. Moistening her lips, Jianna replied with an appearance of detachment, “Aureste Belandor issued orders, you say? How do you know that? Did anyone hear him speak? Was this Onarto’s executioner ever found, and did he implicate my father in his confession? Answer if you can.”

  “The murderer, unquestionably a member of my household, was never identified,” Yvenza recalled pensively. “Investigation and deduction narrowed the suspects to a trio of servants, but the guilty individual could not be determined and I was therefore obliged to hang all three. Justice was served and my surviving followers received a valuable lesson. A wise move, wouldn’t you agree?”

  A barbed smile invited debate. Jianna did not let herself rise to the bait. Her air of composure remained carefully intact as she observed, “I see you’ve no proof at all against my father. He’s a famous, wealthy man. Few Faerlonnish fared so well after the wars, and many resent his good fortune. I care nothing for the lying accusations of the envious.”

  “Now, there’s true filial devotion. Thoroughly misplaced, but admirable all the same. You boys might profit by so sterling an example.”

  “I mean to profit,” said Onartino.

  “Good lad. Let us conclude, then. Despite the seeming totality of his triumph, I am pleased to report that the traitor Aureste did not go entirely unpunished. His betrothed at that time, the Lady Sonnetia of House Steffa—evidently gifted with some sense—not only broke off her connection with Aureste Belandor, but for good measure promptly accepted and wedded the young Magnifico Vinz Corvestri, scion of House Belandor’s ancient enemy. A particularly pretty choice, that. I gather from my sources that the blow hit home and Aureste felt it deeply for a while. Unfortunately, such a man was not one to suffer at great length, and it was not more than two years later that he consoled himself with the Lady Zavilla of House Gorni, who presented him with a great fortune and an heiress before considerately removing herself. It is rumored that the neglect and undisguised contempt of her husband greatly hastened the Lady Zavilla’s death, and this I can well believe.”

  “How dare you?” Jianna felt the color burn her cheeks. Aware that an angry reaction would only please her tormentor, she strove to hold her temper and failed. The fear-fueled indignati
on came boiling out of her. “How dare you speak that way of my parents? You know nothing of them. You and your people are nothing but outlaws sneaking around out here in the middle of nowhere. You’re a liar and that son of yours is an animal, a murderer, and a coward.”

  “Stay where you are, Onartino.” Yvenza halted her son before he moved. Her attention returned to the prisoner, of whom she inquired lazily, “Well, maidenlady, where are your manners? Is that any way to address your future mother-in-law, or your husband-to-be?”

  For an instant Jianna doubted her ears. Confused, she studied the other’s face, which communicated nothing beyond pleasurable amusement. At last she answered, “I’ve already told you that I don’t know the rules of this game.”

  “Perhaps because you’ve not yet heard the end of the tale. Listen and you’ll learn everything you need to know. To finish, then—the years have passed, the innocent have suffered, while a villain enjoys the rewards of his crime. But there’s a force of justice at work in the universe—this I firmly believe. Justice may be suppressed or circumvented for a while, but not forever. Your arrival, little niece, alters the situation at last. The schism dividing House Belandor is about to mend, and justice will be served. Is that not a rosy prospect?” The question must have been rhetorical, for she continued without pause.

  “A union of House Belandor’s sundered halves will heal ancient wounds. The marriage of Aureste Belandor’s daughter to the Magnifico Onarto’s oldest son serves this purpose splendidly. Upon Aureste’s death or departure, his son-in-law will succeed to the title of magnifico. Thereafter, Onartino’s issue will inherit. Who could ask for a simpler or more elegant solution to so vexing a family dilemma? Warms my heart just to think of it. Am I wrong to assume that your pleasure equals my own? Come, niece, tell me your thoughts.” This time she seemed to expect a reply. There was none, and her voice lashed. “Speak up.”

  Jianna started as if struck and spoke without thought. “You’re criminal lunatics, and my father will give you all that you deserve.”

  “We are in full agreement upon that last point.”

  “He’ll see that you’re sorry for all that you’ve done. He’ll—he’ll string you up by the thumbs. For a start.”

  “Excellent,” Yvenza encouraged. “And?”

  “He’ll punish you for making false claim to the Belandor name.”

  “False claim, when we, unlike you, are of the primary original stock? Amusing. And?”

  “And you’ll be sorry for killing my aunt Flonoria, my maid, my driver, and the guards. You’ll regret your attack on our House; my father will see to that. You’ve made a big mistake, and if I were you I’d run away while I could.”

  “Now, that’s what I call an honest reply.” Yvenza nodded, entertained. “And I appreciate candor, if not impudence. No matter. Under our guidance you will very soon learn to govern your tongue.”

  “I hope I won’t be here long enough to learn anything.”

  “Ah, Onartino.” Yvenza favored her firstborn with a fond smile. “She will make you a delightfully spirited little wife, but you’ll have your work cut out for you. I only hope you’ll rise to the challenge.”

  “I’ll rise,” said Onartino.

  “I believe you will. Maidenlady,” Yvenza confided with a congratulatory air, “I think your husband-to-be likes you. He’s a stout lad, as you’ve no doubt gathered, and you’ll suffer no tedium in your marriage.”

  “Marriage? You keep speaking of that.” Jianna struggled to conceal her rising dread. “It’s a joke of some kind, I suppose.”

  “Is there not a certain school of philosophy that regards all human existence as a joke of some kind?”

  “I don’t understand your games. Speak plainly if you can, and tell me your intentions.”

  “I’ve already done so. My intention, little maidenlady, is to marry you to my oldest son. Is that plain enough for your understanding?”

  “No, for it makes no sense at all.” Jianna tried to speak very reasonably. “I know you’re only amusing yourself, because you must know how impossible that is.”

  “How so?” Yvenza’s brows rose. “You and Onartino are both young, healthy, of the best blood, and unattached. It’s a perfect match.”

  “You cannot be in earnest.”

  “You’ll discover otherwise.”

  “I’m already betrothed. My father has chosen a—”

  “You will alter your plans. It’s sudden, I know, but spontaneity possesses its own particular charm.”

  “You can’t seriously imagine that I’d ever agree to such a thing.”

  “You’ll agree to far more than that before we’re done.”

  “Not in a lifetime.”

  “Oh, it won’t take nearly that long. It would seem that you regard a respectable marriage to my poor son as the proverbial fate worse than death, but this is shortsighted. A moment’s reflection will persuade you that far more unpleasant possibilities abound. You aren’t convinced? Consider, then. As the legal wife of Onartino Belandor, heir to the family title, you will enjoy position, the prospect of wealth, and the legitimacy of your children. As his convenience, you are entitled to none of these benefits.”

  “His what?” Jianna inquired in simple disbelief.

  “His convenience. You’re unfamiliar with the expression? Your education has been neglected. It means—”

  “I know what it means, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I suspect that you understand well enough, but let’s make certain. Know that your life has changed forever. Onartino has claimed you, and you are now his property to do with as he pleases. If you plan to argue the point on moral or legal grounds, I advise you to spare your lungs. Fortunately for you, my boy is the soul of integrity, and he is willing to make you his wife. For this he deserves your thanks. Should he encounter ingratitude, opposition, and obstinacy, however, he’ll be forced to make the best of a bad situation, and who could blame him? He’ll take what good he can have of you, and you’ll suffer every indignity of matrimony while enjoying none of the advantages.

  “One such advantage includes security. You are still young, but it’s never too early for a woman to recognize the inconstancy of men, even so excellent a specimen as my Onartino. As a child, he tired quickly of his playthings. Once he wearied, he’d pass the unwanted item on to his younger brother, Trecchio, who’d entertain himself for a while before tossing the toy—by this time, usually much the worse for wear—out into the courtyard, where it would be snapped up by the guards, the stableboys, the spitboys, and others of that ilk, to be used by each in turn. When diversion palled or the mechanism broke, whichever came first, the plaything was discarded once and for all, and what befell the remains thereafter I can hardly begin to guess. Are you following all of this, maidenlady?”

  “You’re trying to frighten me.” Jianna strove hard to make herself believe it. She took a deep breath. Her mouth had gone dry again, but her voice still sounded all right. “Perhaps you enjoy frightening people. But none of what you suggest is possible. I am a magnifico’s daughter. That, if nothing else, makes me someone too valuable to subject to—to—the monstrous treatment that you suggest.”

  “Ah, but Aureste’s daughter warrants special attention.”

  “We are strangers, and I’ve never done you or yours any harm.”

  “Nor did my husband do your father any harm.”

  “Even if all that you claim is true, it happened long before I was born.”

  “Unjust world, isn’t it?”

  “You’re a civilized human being. You’re a woman, and surely would never inflict such atrocities on another woman.”

  “Would I not? Think again, little maidenlady. If ever I possessed the womanly softness to which you direct your misguided appeal, your father cut it out of me years ago. I am not only capable of inflicting cruelty upon Aureste Belandor’s daughter, but so willing that I long for the opportunity, even at the cost of self-interest. Do you know what
I see when I look at you? I see Aureste Belandor’s eyes, his face in female form, his surrogate self fallen into my power at last. Thus I hope to find you steadfast in your defiance. I yearn to encounter a strong will in need of breaking. In short, niece, I’m prepared to throw you to the dogs and return what’s left of you to your father in a sack. Still want to describe me as civilized?”

  The woman had not raised her voice, but the mask had slipped and hatred flashed for a red instant. Jianna curbed the impulse to step backward. Madness, she thought. She clasped her hands to disguise their trembling.

  “Nothing to say, maidenlady? You’ve been quite talkative, until now. Fatigued from your travels, no doubt. You’ll want to see your resting place.”

  “I’ll take her,” said Onartino.

  “No you won’t. No games for you yet, my boy. I want her intact for now.”

  “Now, later—what difference does it make?” Onartino demanded. “It comes to the same end.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Your brother will take her. Trecchio, you meddle with her and I’ll set the dogs on you. Understand?” Apparently his wordless shrug failed to reassure her, for she added, “Nissi, you go along and keep an eye on him.”

  Trecchio advanced to grasp Jianna’s arm above the elbow. She pulled back, and his grip tightened painfully. The breath hissed between her teeth and her fingers curled into claws. Then her gaze jumped to Yvenza’s face. She saw the anticipation there, and the urge to rebel subsided. Trecchio would hurt her if she tried to fight him; she saw it in his mother’s eyes. He led her from the room, and she went tamely. The girl Nissi trailed a couple of paces in their wake. Jianna found the silent, insubstantial presence oddly reassuring.

  Along a gloomy corridor he steered her, to the head of a narrow, steep stairway, where he paused briefly to pluck a lighted candle from a wall sconce. Then down into dim smelly dankness, a basement or cellar of some kind. Puddles lay underfoot, mineral deposits palely crusted the moist walls, and a sharp reek of mildew permeated the atmosphere. Jianna’s reluctant footsteps lagged and Trecchio yanked her arm sharply, causing her to stumble. The cool touch of a small white hand steadied her, and she turned her head to encounter Nissi’s lambent, colorless gaze. Nissi instantly ducked her head and backed away.