The Righteous Whisper of Allsaints (The White Blood Chronicles Book 2)

by Mark G Heath

  “ Yes, what do you want?” asked Redway quietly, trying to contain his terror. He knew these spirits and moreover knew that their appearance brought with it nothing but fear. It had been some considerable time since they had last appeared to him, but the occasion was prominent in his mind and he knew he would never forget. He also knew what they had come for. He could explain and it was not his fault, but he realised that this was unlikely to find any favour from the representatives of his master.

  “ Our lord grows impatient,” began the spirits, “ he has no news of your work. Have you abandoned our master?”

  “ No, no,” whispered Redway, “ my dedication and devotion to our lord remains as perfect as ever.”

  “ Such empty words, Master Redway, for we see no key fashioned by those great hands. Must we remind you of who blessed those hands with their crafting? Must we remind you that for fifteen summers and for fifteen winters you have been favoured with our lord’s benevolence?”

  “No, you need not, our lord knows how grateful I am,” spoke Redway quickly and quietly. He glanced again at his wife, amazed that she remained sound asleep whilst he sat frozen and shaking.

  “ She shall not wake, not while we are here,” said the voices.

  Redway gave silent thanks that she would not have to witness the terrible shades.

  “ Where is the key?” they asked.

  Redway hesitated but he knew there was no point in lying.

  “ There is no key,” he said.

  The voices said nothing. The spirits continued to hover at the end of Redway’s bed, the smoky figures looming over him, the deep red of the eyes glowing.

  “ I said, there is no key,” repeated Redway. He wanted to leap from the bed and escape the terrible manifestations but he could not feel his legs, which had turned numb through fright or cold. He feared he would merely topple to the floor and lie there, useless, before the spirits.

  “ Our master thinks that you prefer to use his gift for your own benefit,” said the voices. Both the spirits raised an arm, sweeping outwards, gesturing at Redway’s house.

  “ No, that is not the case,” replied Redway.

  “ Yet what we see bears testament to the reward that comes from your gifts.”

  Redway stayed silent.

  “ Our master thinks that you have turned your back on him, seduced by the wealth and station afforded by the talent he granted you.”

  “ I assure you that is wrong. I am our master’s most loyal servant,” said Redway.

  “ Yet there is no key,” reminded the voices.

  “ Our master thinks that you have taken something precious from him and have forgotten its purpose,” continued the voices.

  “ You must tell our master that I give thanks, each and every day, for his generosity and that I pledge my craft to furthering his cause.”

  “ Our master suggests that you might come back within the fold if you understand what it is to lose something precious,” said the voices.

  “ No, please,” said Redway perturbed by this ominous threat.

  “ Then where is the key?”

  “ The key has not yet been created,” responded Redway. This was met with more silence.

  “ Before I can fashion the key, I need the metal to create it and something Master Grimoult calls the infusion, to add to the molten metal,” explained Redway.

  “ Our master is well aware as to how the key is created, that is why he engaged you and the alchemist. What he wishes to know is why the metal and the infusion have not been combined?”

  Redway swallowed, the realisation of how there had been no progress at all drying his throat.

  “ I do not have the metal, nor do I have the infusion. Master Grimoult must create the infusion and he has not made it. I cannot do anything without it.”

  There followed another period of silence as if the spirits were digesting this.

  “ Where is the metal you need?”

  “ I don’t have it.”

  “ Do you know where it is?”

  “Again, that is within Master Grimoult’s knowledge, I just do the crafting once the two items are provided,” protested Redway.

  “ Our master suggests that you find the metal and prepare it, in readiness for Master Grimoult’s infusion.”

  “ But I don’t know where to look,” said Redway desperately.

  “ Our master suggests you start searching and soon, otherwise he will take away that which is precious to you, as you have done to him.”

  “ Please, I need help as to where to begin,” pleaded Redway.

  “ Our master shall arrange for you to receive a visit from the Keeper of the Well so that she may take your children’s souls, he feels that this is sufficiently precious to make you understand,” said the voices.

  “ No, no, please, not that, not the keeper,” said Redway.

  “ Then find the metal and craft the key,” warned the voices.

  “ I will, I promise, but please, do not send the keeper, please leave my children alone.”

  “ We have seen them asleep, such beautiful innocence, perhaps that sleep should be made forever?”

  Redway shuddered, the thought of the spirits being anywhere near his two children filling him with fear and revulsion.

  “ No, listen, tell our master that I shall search for the metal, on the morrow and have it ready for the addition of Master Grimoult’s infusion,” said Redway, “ I give my word that it shall be done.”

  “ You shall give your children’s souls if it is not done,” warned the voices. “ See to it that you further our master’s will, without delay.”

  Redway nodded.

  The spirits faded, their glowing eyes dimming and the smoky columns dissipating until Redway was left shaking, sat in his bed. He ran a hand over his face, the twisted anxiety in his chest making him feel weak. Redway twitched as a hand touched his shoulder.

  “ Ansell, what is the matter, you are shivering?” asked his wife who had woken.

  “ Just a bad dream and the cold of the night,” said Redway.

  “ Come, lie down, let me warm you,” said his wife sleepily. She pulled him down to the bed and he rolled onto his side, allowing his wife to cuddle him from behind as he stared away from the bed. His wife wrapped her arms around him and held him close, nuzzling her face into his broad back and pulling the blankets around them both. Redway felt no warmth, the chill that the spirits had brought, lingering deep within him.

  “ There, that’s better, “ whispered his wife, “ good night.”

  “ Good night, “ replied Redway as he continued to stare at the doorway to their bedroom. Within moments, his wife had drifted back to sleep, her breathing altered and denoting slumber. Redway knew that no sleep would now come to him and he would remain awake, waiting for the first rind of dawn to appear so that he could commence his search and ensure the Keeper of the Well stayed well away from his family.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Reznik pushed open the door to the Last One Inn and entered the tavern. It was late and the earlier revels of music and singing had given way to the general murmur of conversation from those remaining at the inn. He removed his hat, shook the snow from his cloak and stamped his black-booted feet. Reznik paused for a moment, admiring the polished leather. He always ensured that his boots bore a healthy shine, the leather properly buffed and rubbed until it reflected the light. It was a natural consequence of his soldiering, the years of meticulous care and presentation of uniform as he climbed the ranks, always maintaining the pristine condition of his boots. The careful application of the wax and then the gentle, rounded movements as it was spread across the worn leather, working it into the natural creases and across the stretched parts and then buffing it with a separate, soft brush, back and forth, the rhythmic action somehow comforting until the shine began to manifest. Even though he might summon his underlings to have a care for his footwear, it was one burden he did not wish to be relieved of. He preferred to undertake the tas
k himself and ensure his boots reflected both the light and himself. He had always found that you could tell a man by his boots and this creed had stood him in good stead thus far.

  “ Evening Captain,” greeted one of the villagers sat at the bar. Reznik nodded in reply, his dark eyes scanning the bar. About a dozen patrons remained in the tavern, preferring the warmth provided by the ale to the journey home in the snow outside. Benjamin Dromgoole was stood behind the bar, talking to Dickon and Fenton. The landlord raised his hand in acknowledgement to Reznik, but continued his conversation with the two farmers. Reznik copied the gesture as he continued to look around the room.

  “ Ah Captain, I’ve been looking for you,” said a voice to his right. He turned and saw Ellen Ryall sat at the bar, her legs dangling from the bar stool but not quite touching the ground. Her skirt bore a slit in it and he allowed himself a glimpse of her thigh. She caught his gaze but no made attempt to move the skirt to cover her flesh.

  “ Yes Ellen, what is it?” he replied.

  “ Those Alamena fruits have arrived for you.”

  “ Excellent.” Though the fruits were not for him, but his underlings, who had acquired quite a taste for the bitter fruit. Reznik was content to feed it to them as well, at the appropriate time, as for some reason it heightened their level of aggression. He kept meaning to ask Ellen about this, to see if it was something that the fruit was capable of invoking or whether it was an unusual side effect from being consumed by his imps.

  “ Shall I have a girl bring them to your house in the morning?” asked the costermonger.

  “ Yes, do that, please. I will pay her once she arrives.”

  “ Would you join me?” she asked swinging her left foot to and fro. Reznik could not help but be drawn to the scarlet ankle boot that moved backwards and forwards. The heel was high and sharp; no doubt to compensate for Ellen’s lack of height and the boot was studded along the front, with copper studs. He nodded in admiration.

  “ I would like that, but there is someone I must see first. Will you be here awhile?”

  Ellen smiled.

  “ I will wait for you Eustace.”

  “ Good. I shall be over once my business is complete,” he said and turned back to look across the main part of the bar’s main room. He saw Lancaster sat alone at a table by the window and made his way between the other tables to join him.

  “ Good evening Eustace,” smiled Lancaster.

  “ Hello Cyon,” replied the mercenary as he slid himself onto the long bench, which ran beneath the window enabling him to see all of the room in front of him.

  “ Mistress Ryall taking an interest?” commented Lancaster, motioning his goblet towards the costermonger, who had turned back to face the bar once more.

  “ Oh, just confirming a delivery of something I had ordered.”

  “ Must be important, she asked me if I had seen you. I said I was expecting you and invited her to join me in waiting for you, but she seems to prefer the company of the bar.”

  “ I should imagine her eyes were offended by what she saw. What are you wearing?” asked Reznik pointing at Lancaster.

  “ What? This? This is woven from Estrine cotton, see how it catches the light?” Lancaster moved his sleeve around, attempting to display the changes in colour the material experienced as it moved from shadow to light. Reznik watched Lancaster, as he seemed transfixed by the shimmering material as he wafted it about him. Reznik shook his head.

  “ You look like a player. You don’t need a lantern out there, that coat is brighter than the moon.”

  Lancaster pulled on his lapels indignantly.

  “ Your opinion carries no weight Eustace, since you only ever dress as if you are in permanent mourning. Everyone remembers the elegance of my attire.”

  “ If you insist, though I am sure they are more likely to remember the man who glittered like a bauble.”

  “ Typical soldier, no imagination and no appreciation of beauty,” replied Lancaster.

  “ Drinking alone are we?” said Reznik indicating towards the second empty goblet set on the table.

  “ Wine?” offered Lancaster.

  Reznik nodded and Lancaster lifted the bottle, which was already half-empty, pouring the wine into a goblet for Lancaster, whilst refreshing his own. Reznik waited for Lancaster to take a drink before he took a swig of the drink, swilling the liquid around inside his mouth before swallowing.

  “ Pretty good,” he concluded and took another mouthful.

  “ The snow has arrived sooner than usual,” remarked Lancaster tilting his head towards the window.

  “ Yes, I daresay the road will become impassable in a number of days should it keep snowing.”

  “ I hope not, I have business in Lancester to attend to.”

  “ I am sure one of your underlings will take care of it for you.”

  “ Not this time, it requires the subtle touch of a master.”

  “ Is that so, who are you hiring to do that then?”

  “ Very amusing. No, it is a matter that I shall have to attend to. It cannot be left to others, too much is at stake to risk ruin in the hands of an amateur.”

  “ Sounds interesting, what is this business?” asked Reznik.

  “ You will forgive me Captain, but I cannot speak of it nor can I say why I cannot speak of it.”

  “ Very well, it is not my place to peer into your dark heart anyway.”

  “ Huh, that’s ripe coming from one whose heart is permanently shrouded in darkness.”

  “ Oh, not mine. You have me much misunderstood Cyon.”

  “ I cannot claim to know you Captain, but I know of you and hear much of what is said about you and one can only conclude that your master abides by darkness.”

  “ Ah, that is where I differ to most of this village,” smiled Reznik as he made an expansive gesture to the tavern with his hand, “ You see, I have no master.”

  “ Nonsense,” interrupted Lancaster, “ all are beholden to someone. Children to their parents, a serving girl to her landlord, wife to her husband and a man to that master which has granted him favour and guidance in return for devotion and obedience.”

  “ Then who is your master?”

  Lancaster pulled his tunic aside and revealed his purse, which he tapped.

  “ Not so Cyon, you are elevated so that coin is your servant, not the other way around. I am a similar creature. You see, they think that I am a hired weapon, a sell sword, the mercenary.”

  “ That is entirely what you are.”

  “ Not entirely. True enough, coin has taken me to the place I am now, but I have no real need of it, not anymore.”

  “ If that is the case, you will be inundated with requests for your services without payment. I would keep this state of affairs quiet if I were you.”

  “ Oh, I still ensure that I'm well rewarded by those who wish to engage my extensive services. I have a reputation to maintain and I have no desire to be pestered by a cuckold wanting his wife’s lover dispatched for a small purse of silver or to burn down a competitor’s warehouse over a petty debt. No, the high price my abilities commands is purely a gateway. It is a gateway to gaining an audience with me, a device to weed out the idiots and timewasters. Whether I take on the commission, remains my decision alone and as such, I have no master. If you wish to paint my heart a colour, Cyon, grey would be the most appropriate shade.”

  “ Why? Because you are dull?” said Lancaster laughing.

  “ No, because it is a mixture of both black and white.”

  “ You spend too long with the Grizel, spouting such bollocks.”

  “ Actually, I have seen very little of him this past fortnight. He is upto something.”

  “ Invariably, but he has no dealings with me, so is of little consequence,” said Lancaster.

  “ Don’t be so dismissive of someone you do not understand.”

  “ Oh, I freely admit I do not understand him, though he is one of the few and that is why I have no dealing
s with him. He is not of this place, I prefer to deal with those that I know and I know what rules men’s hearts, coin. I have yet to hold up a purse of gold without seeing it fill the eyes of the man before me and have him bend to my will.”

  “ That's maybe true, but your reach will fall short, believe me,” said Reznik. He took another drink from his goblet, allowing him to sweep the room once more with his gaze. Lancaster poured more wine, the bottle nearly empty and set it back down on the wooden table.

  “ You left a message for me that you wanted to see me,” said Lancaster.

  “ Yes I did,” answered Reznik, “ I have some news which will be of interest to you.”

  Lancaster raised his eyebrows.

  “ What news might that be?”

  “ You are still looking for white blood aren’t you?” asked Reznik, lowering his voice.

  “ You’ve got some?” said Lancaster hurriedly, his eyes widening in anticipation.

  “ No, no.”

  “ Damn,” said Lancaster sitting back, “ but yes, I am still looking.”

  “ I know where you can get some.”

  “ Where? If you mean Thaindire, forget it, ever since Kathryn seduced him he has barely left her bedroom. I’ve had Beatrice keeping a look out for me,” said Lancaster tilting his head in the direction of the serving girl as she placed several flagons on a nearby table.

  “ He might as well have escaped the village, for all the use he is,” said Lancaster.

  “ Is that a criticism of me?” retorted Reznik. “ I brought him back if you recall. You can’t blame me if you could not extract an oath of allegiance from him. By my honour, I tried to bring him under control, but he has stubborn resistance running all the way through him. That's what their Order does to them.”

  “ Well, Kat managed it.”

  “ Aye, but neither did you.”

  “ He would have succumbed to me eventually, all men do. All men can be bought.”

  “ Somehow I doubt you can buy him,” said Reznik.

  “Well, we will never know, Kat enveloped him in her charms and now he is bidden to her so Thaindire is of no use to me.”

  “ That maybe so, but it is not Thaindire of whom I speak,” said Reznik.