Frostgrave_Second Chances

by Matthew Ward

  ‘Don’t you knock?’ Yelen asked.

  ‘Not me, love.’ The eyebrow above Serene’s good eye twitched. ‘Gutter scum, me. No finer feelings to mention. Not that you’ve room to speak, carrying on in your nightclothes.’

  Yelen glanced down at her gown. Though filthy from the night’s wanderings, it covered her rather more completely than Serene’s garb covered her. Likely the other woman was simply the sort who loved to get in the last word. There was a lot of that going around. ‘Well, if someone hadn’t taken my coat, and I still owned any other clothes, I’d be wearing them, wouldn’t I?’

  Serene drifted closer, still with that same, easy confidence. ‘No doubt you would.’ She set the bundle down on the end of the bed. ‘You’ll find everything you need there. Boots might be a bit large, but you’ll manage.’

  Yelen frowned, surprised. On the one hand, now they knew she was awake, her chances of escaping the Gilded Rose were greatly reduced. On the other, there was little to gain from antagonizing Serene. ‘Thank you. And… for saving me last night.’

  Serene’s shoulders twitched in an infinitesimal shrug. ‘Just don’t get any ideas about wandering off. You’ve some explaining to do, and Cavril wants to hear every word. If I have to bring you back, I won’t be so gentle next time.’

  Yelen’s frown deepened into a scowl, all thoughts of treading carefully abandoned at the other woman’s sneering tone. ‘So you’ll skip drugging me and go straight to striking me senseless next time?’

  ‘Drugging you?’

  ‘I can still smell it.’

  Serene sniffed ostentatiously. ‘That? That’s the balm Marcan mixed to stop your fingers and toes blackening and dropping off. No laughing matter, stumbling around in the snows with bare feet.’

  ‘Then why can’t I remember anything?’

  ‘I don’t know, love. Maybe because you passed out halfway back, and I carried you the rest of the way? Feeling proper glad about that right now, I can tell you.’

  Yelen felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, but couldn’t bring herself to apologize. ‘I guess I’ll get dressed.’

  ‘You do that.’ Serene stared stonily at her for a moment longer, then left the room, setting the door firmly to behind her.

  Ignoring the creaks and groans of abused muscles, Yelen heaved upright and examined the pile of clothing. Boots, gloves, shirt, a fur-lined jerkin and trews. Her own coat, the rents and tears earned during the recent expedition’s excitement stitched closed. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Do you believe her?’

  Azzanar laughed. ‘So suddenly my opinion matters? Are you sure she didn’t knock you on the head?’

  ‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ murmured Yelen.

  Why did she want Azzanar’s opinion? Did she really want it at all? Like it or not, the demon was the only ally she had right now. Well, not ally, exactly. But they had the unarguable common ground of survival. Mostly, Yelen suspected she simply wanted a familiar voice to talk to. She supposed she was fortunate that way. Lots of folk had a destructive influence, goading them to foolishness. At least she knew hers was real, and not a splinter of her own psyche.

  ‘Still,’ she went on, ‘Magnis would hardly go to the trouble of providing clothes if he were wanting to kill me.’ Not that the Gilded Rose did kill, at least as far as common tattle went. But with things the way they were, Yelen wasn’t ready to make assumptions. At least, not optimistic ones.

  ‘That’s the thing about clothes, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Easy to take off the dead. They’re a good gift with which to earn your trust, in that they cost nothing, if reclaimed.’

  ‘They cured my frostbite.’

  ‘So they say.’

  ‘So I shouldn’t trust them?’

  ‘I’d say that you shouldn’t trust anyone. It didn’t do your sister much good, did it?’

  Mirika. Overcome with grief, Yelen sank against the bed. ‘Is there any chance that she’s alive?’

  Azzanar shifted, flowing back and forth across her mind as she considered. ‘Her body, yes. Though I can’t speak for her mind. You can’t help her.’

  ‘But you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ After all, if there was hope for Mirika shaking off Szarnos’ influence, where did that leave Azzanar?

  ‘Yes, I suppose I would. So I suppose we’re back to “don’t trust anyone”. Including me.’

  Based on the accompanying chuckle, Azzanar saw nothing appalling in that state of affairs. Not so Yelen. Again, she fell back on her own advice. One step at a time. That much hadn’t changed. It could do no harm to speak with Magnis, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup plan.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I may need your help.’

  ‘Anything for you, poppet. You know that. Provided you ask nicely.’

  * * *

  After dressing, Yelen left the bedchamber to find Serene waiting outside.

  ‘Took you long enough.’

  Yelen offered a smile she didn’t really feel. ‘Wanted to look my best for my captor, didn’t I?’

  Serene shook her head and started off down the corridor. ‘This way.’

  Yelen followed her escort past a series of closed doors and out into a vast, vaulted chamber – the transept of a temple, unless she missed her mark. High, arched windows confirmed the assessment, though if they’d once contained any stained glass, it was now long since gone. More tapestries covered the openings, with timber planking visible behind. A fire-pit burned in the centre of the nave. Most of the smoke was drawn up through a hole in the roof by the howling wind beyond, but enough escaped to carry the warm, heavy scents of woodsmoke and cooked meat to Yelen’s nostrils. A cluster of battered armchairs was arranged around the flames. As Yelen approached, a familiar figure rose from one, his gilded robes glinting in the firelight.

  ‘Yelen. So you’re awake.’ For once, Cavril Magnis’ easy charm was in abeyance. His eyes were watchful, cool. ‘I trust the clothes are a suitable fit? We’re not exactly spoilt for choice, hereabouts.’

  ‘They’re fine,’ Yelen replied, drawing closer. In point of fact, everything was a touch on the large side, but she was hardly in a position to choose. ‘Thank you.’

  Magnis waved her words aside. ‘It’s nothing, truly. What do you think of my humble home?’

  ‘Very impressive.’

  And it was, in a ‘faded glory’ sort of way. Yelen had occasionally visited the strongholds of other delver-gangs – normally to trade, occasionally to act as lookout while her sister ‘liberated’ an item or two from their stashes. Most were broken-down ruins, choked with rubble and with walls braced against collapse – their statuary and relics long since traded away for food or fresh hirelings. By contrast, the Gilded Rose’s base seemed largely intact. Even the altar remained whole, its gold leaf and sapphire gemstones still in situ. It seemed that Cavril Magnis, much like the late, unlamented Endri Torik, liked to live in some comfort.

  Yelen wondered what else they might have in common.

  ‘You worship Solastra?’ she asked.

  Magnis’ brow furrowed. ‘What? Oh, the altar. I’ve a nodding respect, nothing more. I find that life is simpler if the gods don’t notice you, so why desecrate holy ground and invite their attention? Won’t you please sit? We have much to discuss.’

  Azzanar stirred. ‘You’re being watched.’

  Yelen threw a slow glance around the room as she approached the fire-pit. The demon was right – she was indeed being watched. Marcan and Darrick sat at a table halfway between the fire-pit and the impressive, double-leaved doors at the nave’s far end. Ostensibly, they were playing cards, but they had entirely too few eyes on the game, and too many on Yelen for her to feel comfortable. Kas sat up in the rafters, his legs dangling out over the nave, and a stone jug held loosely in his hand. Only Kain was absent, and Yelen was grateful for that. From what Mirika had told her, the knight was the most dangerous of the lot. If thi
ngs went poorly, better Kain was elsewhere.

  Reaching the fire-pit, Yelen lowered herself into one of the chairs. ‘Is this where you tell me why I’m here?’

  Magnis shook his head. ‘Later.’ He gestured to a small table set at the side of Yelen’s chair. Bread. Fire-blackened meat. Even a pair of withered apples – Yelen couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anything approaching fresh fruit. ‘Eat something first. You must be starving.’

  The words set Yelen’s stomach rumbling in sympathy. She reached out for a hunk of bread.

  ‘How do you know it isn’t poisoned?’ asked Azzanar.

  Yelen checked her hand an inch from the plate. Why would it be? If Magnis had wanted her dead or stupefied, he could easily have had Serene see to it while she slept. Caution was one thing. Paranoia was something else. Besides, she was starving.

  ‘It’s quite safe,’ said Magnis. Apparently her worries had not gone unremarked. He plucked a charred leg from the plate and took a hefty bite, talking all the while. ‘A touch overcooked, but better that than the other way around.’ He swallowed, and offered the rest of the leg to Yelen. ‘I seem to still be standing.’

  Reaching a decision, Yelen snared the bread from the plate. ‘I don’t mean to be impolite. I’m not at my best.’

  ‘Quite understandable,’ he replied, stripping another mouthful of flesh from the bones. ‘And I imagine that your charming passenger’s not making life any easier for you.’

  ‘What did he just call me?’

  Yelen froze, the bread not yet at her lips. ‘You know about that?’

  ‘After your performance at the tomb, how could I not? You were not subtle.’ The blond moustache twisted, framed by a quizzical expression. ‘Whatever possessed you to make such a bargain?’

  She flinched. For a heartbeat, she was back in the darkened tent, hands covered in blood and the pentagram blazing around her. ‘That’s my business.’

  Yelen wolfed down the bread, as much to excuse her from talking as to address her ravenous hunger. What did Magnis want?

  ‘Very well,’ said Magnis. ‘A curiosity only. Let’s talk about my business. Where is the Orb of Szarnos?’

  ‘So that’s the reason for his kindness,’ purred Azzanar. ‘Watch your step, poppet.’

  ‘Why do you think I know?’

  Magnis shrugged. ‘Frankly, I don’t. But with the Guttered Candle levelled and dear old Endri levelled with it, I have few approaches to explore. I’m asking nicely, am I not?’ He leaned closer. ‘My associates retrieved you from an unfortunate situation, did they not? I think politeness demands that you answer.’

  ‘Don’t tell him. If it matters that much, we can use it for leverage – a guarantee of safety.’

  Yelen held her tongue and reached for a piece of meat.

  Magnis sat back in his chair, fingers drumming at the armrest. ‘I understand your reluctance, but I assure you I don’t care that you killed Endri.’

  Yelen looked sharply up. ‘I didn’t kill him.’ The accusation hurt more than she could have imagined. But was that because she’d left him to die, or because she’d lacked the courage to kill her tormentor – the man who’d doomed her sister?

  ‘Careful, poppet. He’s goading you.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s of no account,’ said Magnis. ‘He was an infuriating swine at the best of times, and he had fewer good times than any man I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Say nothing. Silence is your…’

  ‘Mirika did it,’ Yelen snapped. ‘Except it wasn’t Mirika.’

  ‘Or just start blurting things out,’ hissed Azzanar, sarcastically. ‘After all, what harm can that do?’

  ‘Mirika did it,’ Magnis repeated flatly. ‘And then she stole the orb?’

  Yelen glared at him, but there was nothing to be gained by silence any longer. ‘The orb took her. Torik tried using it to steal her body. It went wrong and something else’s in there now. My sister’s gone. She stepped out onto the frozen Nereta and strode away into the night.’

  The words spilled out like water from a breached dam, the one chasing the next. By the time they petered out into silence, Yelen felt her eyes dampen with long-denied tears. She drew in a long, rasping breath and stared into the fire.

  ‘I don’t know where the orb is,’ she said at last. ‘I wish I did, because then I’d know where to find Mirika.’

  ‘Oh, bravo. I hope you never get a taste for playing cards.’

  Magnis gazed at her for a long time, the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing but his eyes never wavering. Abruptly, he looked up and over Yelen’s shoulder. ‘Well?’

  ‘Matches what I saw,’ said Serene. ‘The older one was proper out of it, then stepped off into the river, orb in her grasp.’

  Yelen broke away from contemplation of the fire and stared accusingly at Magnis. ‘Why ask, if you already knew?’

  He met her gaze, the aloofness melting from his eye to be replaced with a soft empathy that made Yelen’s heart ache. ‘We all come to Felstad seeking gold, but honesty’s a far rarer prize. I had to be sure you’d be truthful with me. I’m sorry about your sister.’

  The conversation’s course, so different to the one she’d expected, threw Yelen off balance. Might Magnis even help her, if it came to it? If so, a little flattery couldn’t hurt. ‘For what it’s worth, she respected you. She was seriously considering your offer.’

  His eyes brightened, accompanied by a smile that was just the wrong side of arrogance. ‘Of course she was. I’m Cavril Magnis. No one can resist me.’

  Yelen bowed her head – mostly to hide the slow smile creeping over her face.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re falling for this,’ hissed Azzanar. ‘He’s stringing this out. He’s waiting for something.’

  Yelen understood the demon’s suspicions. Tattle had it that Magnis’ skills at misdirection went deeper than the illusions he crafted. Those traders who didn’t despise him for his ability to haggle a price down far past their holdout point admired him for generous terms, unexpectedly offered. Not that the latter were any better off than the former, of course. It was simply that the deficit lay elsewhere, their attention misdirected by the famous Cavril Magnis charm. An easy smile and a concerned nature carried a body a long way, even in Frostgrave.

  She believed most of what she’d heard, but now she was here, face to face with the man himself…? The stories were a candle set beside the heart of the sun. He’d have been a sensation in Karamasz, twisting the guilds to his personal profit, or skipping from bedchamber to bedchamber leaving undying infatuation and broken hearts in his wake. But perhaps, just perhaps, Magnis’ effortless charm was not so effortless as it appeared. Mirika had many times dipped into the timeflow without appearing to do so, nudging her reflexes and perceptions simply by moving at different pace. Yelen had even done it herself, on those occasions where she’d embraced Azzanar’s power. Perhaps Magnis was the same, his charm a careful trick to perception achieved through sorcerous means?

  Yelen sat back and met Magnis’ gaze. ‘I’ll resist you just fine.’

  The confident smile collapsed like foundations worn away by the sea, replaced by an expression so crestfallen, so woeful, that Yelen almost retracted her challenge. Almost. She wasn’t sure what held her back, only that she had the distinct impression that it was all an act, played out to an audience of one. And so it proved. An instant later, the smile was back – this time with a hint of devilry about the corners. ‘I reckon you will, at that.’

  ‘Stop playing games, poppet. We agreed how this would go. Act before he can.’

  Yelen glanced around. Darrick and Marcan were still engrossed in their card game – or at least as engrossed as they’d been before. Kas didn’t seem to be paying her any attention at all. He lay stretched, full length, along the beam, seemingly as secure as a child in a bunk, despite the fact that the beam was at least a score of feet higher off the ground than any child’s bed. Serene remained in post, a little behind Yelen and to the side,
her face as unreadable as ever.

  The demon could be right, Yelen allowed. It could be a trap. But to what purpose? They already had her. They already knew what she knew.

  ‘So why am I here?’ she asked. ‘You don’t expect me to believe you had me picked up off the streets out of kindness.’

  ‘Maybe you remind me of my sister. I haven’t seen her in years, so why not help you?’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’

  Magnis levelled an accusing finger. ‘You know, you’re entirely too cynical for your age. Mind you, so was Elien, last I saw her. The similarity is uncanny.’

  That was rich. He was what, five years her elder? Ten at the outside. ‘A life in the Karamasz guttermarch and this awful place brings certain attitudes to the fore.’

  ‘That’s true, that’s true. As it happens, there is something else you can do for me. But first, there’s a little unfinished business that needs attending to.’ Standing, Magnis raised his voice. ‘Darrick, would you be so good as to show our other guests in?’

  Darrick pushed back his chair, the feet scraping on the flagstoned floor as he rose.

  Yelen turned her attention back to Magnis. ‘What other guests?’

  He spread his hands. ‘Alas, you’ve attracted a modicum of attention this last day or so – especially with that altercation at the gate. That’s no good for anyone. I can’t have Rekamark in uproar.’

  At the far end of the room, one of the massive doors creaked open, propelled by Darrick’s prodigious strength. A man entered. Nondescript by the standards of Rekamark’s denizens, Yelen wouldn’t have paid him a second glance, save for the fact that he bore Flintine’s spider-brand.

  ‘He’s selling you out! I warned you, poppet.’

  ‘You did,’ Yelen murmured. The irony of the last few minutes didn’t escape her. She’d told Magnis she’d resist him, but she hadn’t, had she? He’d woven his honeyed net, and now she was trapped within it. ‘We’ll do this your way.’