Covenants (v2.1)

by Lorna Freeman

  “Yes, my lord,” I murmured, thinking of how he had no compunction in picking a fight when I was the guest in Jusson’s house.

  “But you don’t drink.” Gherat signaled and another servant presented a tray, this one with a fake asp twined around the glasses. He waited until we took a glass, then turned to the crowd, scanning it. “Let me introduce you about. You may know everyone here, Esclaur, but there are several that Rabbit should meet.”

  It was like a fever dream of the king’s reception as Esclaur and I were passed from guest to guest. But instead of open stares full of curiosity, here everyone was black-masked and hidden. With the decorations, the nightmarish servers, and the dirges the musicians were playing (evil sorcerer music, I supposed), the weight of it pressed down like a soft, suffocating pillow, and I wondered that Teram would consider this fun.

  “So, ah… Dabbit, are you long in town?” a lord in doyen robes asked.

  “It’s Rabbit, and I don’t know—”

  “You must get over to the Boar’s Head, Nabbit. They’ve such excellent sport there.” The man launched into a detailed description of all the cockfights he had attended— blood drop by drop—and I went back to staring about the room, prepared to dodge Lord Esclaur’s foot. Nothing threatened, though, and I glanced over, noting that Esclaur looked a little glassy-eyed.

  “I shall be fighting my Gray tomorrow night,” the lord concluded. With a glance at our still full glasses, he raised his own glass and drank deeply. Esclaur and I did the same, though I pretended, as I didn’t want to chance getting a mouthful of vinegar. Finished, the lord set his glass down and looked through me. “Oh, I see someone I must speak with. Grace, Fabbit.” He bowed and walked off.

  “Well, that was just wonderful—” I broke off as I got a good look at Lord Esclaur. “Are you all right?” Taking his wine glass, I put both it and mine on a table. I then guided him to an open window.

  “I could do with a bit of a breather,” Esclaur admitted. “I think the heat’s getting to me.” He pulled off his mask and moved closer in a vain hope for a breeze. In the meager light I could see sweat beading on his forehead and I frowned, pulling off my own domino. Looking around, I spotted Lord Dru heading our way.

  “Here comes Gherat. I’ll ask him if he can get you something cold to drink.” As Gherat reached us, I opened my mouth, only to have Esclaur recover enough to kick the same ankle. I gasped as his toe connected.

  “Are you all right, Lord Rabbit?” Gherat moved closer, looking us over.

  I gave him a pained smile, staggering a little. “Just a cramp.”

  “Oh, too bad.” He moved even closer, his colorless eyes seeming to glitter behind his mask. “Neither of you look very well. How about going outside for a bit to get away from all this heat?”

  I moved out of range of Esclaur’s foot. “That’s a good idea.”

  Gherat gestured and a servant dressed as one of the sorcerer’s apprentices emerged from the crowd. “Messirs are overcome by the heat. Is there somewhere they could cool off?”

  “Yes, milord,” the servant apprentice said. “This way, please.” After bowing, Esclaur and I followed the servant from the room.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I whispered, limping again.

  “I didn’t see you eating or drinking. What makes you think I want anything?” Lord Esclaur whispered back. “Especially after that bloody awful wine.” He pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped his face.

  “You didn’t drink that last glass, did you?”

  “Heavens, no. I faked it, just as you did.”

  “Does my cousin usually set such a dismal board?” I asked as we turned a corner, the party fading to a faint murmur.

  “No, Teram prides himself on his dinner parties. His kitchen and cellar have always been excellent.” Esclaur blotted his face again. “Until now.” We turned another corner and the party sounds disappeared altogether. We continued down a long hall, until we came to a pair of glass doors. Beyond them I could see the outline of foliage. The servant lit a lamp that was sitting on a small table by the doors.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  The servant looked up and I realized that his face was shadowed by his costume’s cowl. “It’s so that milords won’t have to sit in the dark.” And have every night flier and crawler making its way to us? “No, thank you. We’ll be fine.” As he set the lamp down on the table, I opened the door and stepped outside, waiting for my eyes to adjust. “There’s a bench over there.” I moved in that direction, sighing in relief at the cooler air, only to turn around as I heard Lord Esclaur stumble behind me. He stood swaying, took another step, and his knees buckled. I hurried back and caught him before he collapsed, helping him to the bench.

  “Sorry about that,” Esclaur said, his voice slurring. “I do feel awfully peculiar.” He swallowed hard. “Pr’aps I should’ve gotten that drink.” The servant had left the lamp burning by the glass doors and in its feeble light I could see that Esclaur was drenched in sweat. I stood, straining to hear if there was a fountain. Nothing. I thought about going back into the house but discarded that idea, not wanting to leave the lordling alone. “Maybe there’s a water pump somewhere out here,” I said as I stood up, trying to see into me darkness. I then heard a footstep against a paving stone. I waited for another but there was silence. Not even a cricket chirped. Esclaur mumbled something and I crouched down beside him. “Quiet.”

  If I were by myself, I would’ve turned the tables and become the hunter. If Esclaur weren’t so sick, I would’ve tried to slip us past whoever was out there. If Jeff were near, I would’ve called for help. If, if, if. I felt for my boot knife and the one I wore in the small of my back since the last abduction attempt, ignoring my officer’s sword as it was new and I didn’t know the balance of it. I quietly took off my cape and, laying it on the bench, waited in the stillness of the courtyard. Then two things happened at once. Lord Esclaur passed out, slumping to the ground, and several men burst out of the bushes.

  If this were truly a pantomime, at this point I would’ve either laughed or walked out in disgust. However, it was real life, and even though my attackers wore Sorcerer Slifter costumes and black masks, I was more concerned with staying reasonably whole than with how silly they looked. After the first rush, they all skidded to a stop, surprised to see me up and aware enough to handle two knives without cutting myself.

  The five sorcerers and I stared at each other in the dim light from the house; then a couple faded back into the bushes, while the remaining three produced cudgels. By the rustles, I could track the other two working their way around to my back. I shifted around so that I stood at the top of the bench, the three in front of me following. I waited for them to call out to their mates that I had moved, but they stayed quiet, so I figured they had been told not to make any noise.

  I grinned and bellowed, “Help! Murderers! Assassins!”

  The other two once more burst out of the bush with their cudgels upraised, only to fall over me darkened cape-draped bench. Their heads collided with a satisfying thunk and my grin widened as they sank down, stunned.

  The three sorcerers that were left standing began to circle closer. I made a feint with a knife at one and while he leaned back, I lunged at another, moving out of the way of the third who swung at my head. I felt the passing of the cudgel and a chill went down my spine. It would’ve been a killing blow if he had connected. I lunged again and caught one of the sorcerers. His mouth opened in a silent scream before he collapsed and I nearly screamed myself as I could make out that he had no tongue.

  “Holy God, preserve me!” I whispered hard.

  I heard stumbling behind me and tried to move so that I could also see the other two, when the same sorcerer swung out again. I ducked but he managed to hit one knife out of my hand and it went flying, sticking point down in the grass. I yanked my sword out of its scabbard, reckoning new weapon or not, it was time to learn fast. “Come on, whoresons.”

  I
backed up to give myself room to use the longer blade. One of the sorcerers that had collided managed to get up again and move around the bench. He swung with his cudgel but he was still groggy and overreached. I shifted and lifted a foot, pushing him into a tree. Once more his head met an unyielding object and he sprawled on the ground. I was left facing two attackers who had spread out. I feinted towards one, watching for the other and as he stayed put, I spun and slashed at him. I sensed movement and pivoted once more, bringing my sword around and catching the first under the ear.

  My old sword would have sliced through the muscle, bone and sinew of the attacker’s neck. Even if he had worn mail, my old sword still would’ve struck him a blow serious enough to hinder him from fighting. But that was my old sword. My new sword shattered on impact and all I held was the tasseled hilt. The sorcerer I’d hit made a sound and I realized that he was laughing without a tongue. The other joined in, both gobbling in their throats. I flung the hilt aside and lifted my remaining knife, only to hear the third one on the other side of the bench. I glanced over and saw he had risen to his feet, and was moving to join his fellows.

  Three against one armed only with a knife that was small enough to fit into a boot sheath were never good odds and at that moment I should’ve been focused on my immediate future. And I was. But at my feet were the remnants of my sword blade twinkling in the weak light, to my side was Lord Esclaur drugged or poisoned, and before me were three tongueless pantomime villains, laughing. All in my cousin’s house. I slowly straightened from my fighter’s crouch and raised my hand. “Truth,” I said, shutting my eyes.

  I noted in a detached way that, as the tongueless sorcerers could laugh, they could also scream if given enough incentive. And while usually there’s a point where the senses are overwhelmed and the screamer passes out, they didn’t. Their screams went on and on. It finally occurred to me that I might’ve had something to do with that, and lowered my hand. The screams dwindled into sobbing and I Cautiously opened my eyes to see them curled up on the ground, their arms over their heads, still clutching their cudgels. After a moment, I moved from sorcerer to sorcerer, removing clubs and masks. The one who had run into the tree was still unconscious. The one I had stabbed was dead. I checked Lord Esclaur and he was alive, but his breathing was shallow, his pulse rapid and faint. I retrieved my other knife, using one of the sorcerer’s robes to clean it, but only sheathed the one in my boot. I loaded the cudgels, masks, blade pieces and hilt into my cape and made a bundle. I then slung Esclaur over my shoulder, picked up the bundle and knife, and went to find help.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “Five attackers,” Suiden said, resting his haunches on his heels as he examined the broken sword, cudgels and masks spread out on my cape. Captain Javes stood behind him, also staring down at the cape, his hands in his trouser pockets.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  Laurel was tending Lord Esclaur who was lying in Groskin’s old bunk in Jeff’s and my bedroom—the only place where there was an empty bed. The Faena questioned me about the symptoms and then, after sniffing closely at the lordling’s breath, concocted a noxious smelling brew that he managed to get down Esclaur’s throat by using a kitchen funnel.

  “Do not worry, Rabbit,” Laurel said. “It is a strong poison, but Lord Esclaur got only a small amount and this dose should render it impotent.” Should is not would, I thought, but I nodded and, at the captains’ command, began to tell them what happened. When I got to the part where my sword shattered, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

  “He wasn’t wearing a hauberk?” Javes asked. He hunkered down beside Suiden and picked up the sword hilt.

  “No, sir. I checked.”

  “The sword was weakened, Javes, and the edge blunted,” Suiden said, easily breaking a piece off the blade. “More brittle than nut candy.” He then stood and sighed. “It could’ve been done any time between last night and when he got dressed this evening.” He shrugged, his face tired. “It could even be another sword. It’s new to Rabbit and he wouldn’t have known the difference.”

  Laurel’s ears lay back and he rumbled as he wiped Lord Esclaur’s face with a cloth dipped in something that smelled clean. I wandered over and put my fingers into the bowl, bringing them up to my nose and inhaling.

  “Please continue,” Suiden said.

  It was quiet enough to hear a feather drop two streets away when I got to the next part. I dipped my fingers again in the bowl, allowing the infused water to pool in my cupped hand. In the distance I could hear hooves against cobblestones and wondered if Jeff was returning from informing the king.

  Toe claws clicked on the floor and Laurel grabbed my hand, ignoring the water that dripped onto his fur. He extended a claw to trace over the rune and once again I felt it grow warmer. “You shut your eyes,” Laurel repeated, and I nodded. “And when you opened them the false sorcerers were on the ground.” I nodded again. The sound of hooves came closer and I wondered if Jeff was bringing company. Laurel batted my cheek with his other paw until I looked at him, his amber eyes staring into mine. He shook his head, his beads clicking and swaying. “It is no surprise then that the Magus wants you so badly.”

  “What do you mean, Sro Cat?” Suiden asked.

  “Rabbit has had no training at all, honored captain.” The Faena shot Suiden a glance. “As it seems that he’s been so busy these past few days that he has had no time for me to even teach him just the basics.”

  Suiden waved away mere trivialities. “Fine. He has no training. So?”

  The hooves were now close enough for me to tell it was more than two horses. A lot more.

  “So he has no idea of how to shield himself. He should’ve been on the ground with the assassins.” Laurel’s paw tapped my cheek again, reclaiming my attention. “Do not worry, Rabbit, this is my embassy.” He dropped my hand and returned to Esclaur.

  “What did Lord Teram do?” Javes asked.

  “After he finished being outraged, he went out with servants to check the courtyard. I didn’t go with him as I dared not leave Esclaur. He came back claiming that they found no one, and then wondered why Esclaur and I were out there in the first place, as ‘it wasn’t open to the public’ I told him that Gherat sent us out there, but Gherat denied it, said he only told the servant to take us where it was cooler.” I shrugged, sighing. “Which was true. The servant, though, wasn’t anywhere around.” I nodded at the spread cloak.

  “They both wanted me to leave that with them, but I told them that I was taking it to you.” A faint smile came over my face as I remembered my cousin’s affronted glare at being denied by his provincial cousin whom he’d graciously admitted into his august ranks.

  The hooves were now striking stone in the square, slowing to a stop in front of the embassy. Shouts sounded, the front door crashed open and footsteps pounded into the hallway.

  “You know, there are disadvantages to having the Royal Army as guards,” Laurel remarked.

  The bedroom door was flung hard against the wall behind it, cracking the plaster. The king stood there surrounded by several of his Own, and accompanied by the Lord Commander (spines snapped as Suiden, Javes and I jumped to attention), a woman carrying a satchel, and the other lords of the king’s Court. Bringing up the rear was Jeff. He sidled around the mob in the doorway and took up a position behind me. Which could’ve meant anything.

  King Jusson’s eyes were blazing as he strode over to where Laurel stood bathing Lord Esclaur’s face, the captain and the rest of the guard scrambling to keep up. “What has happened?”

  At that most opportune moment, Lord Esclaur’s eyes opened and, seeing the king, he smiled. “Sire, it’s good to see you.” With that, he rolled over on his side and went to sleep, and I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I would live to see the dawn.

  Tension went out of Jusson. “He will be all right, then.”

  “It appears so, honored king.” Laurel dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it out, and wiped Escla
ur’s neck. “As I told Lord Rabbit and the captains, he was given a very strong poison, but he only received a trace and, with the antidote, he should recover.” The king relaxed further and he looked around for a chair. Seeing none, he sat on the edge of the bunk and, propping his arm on his knee, rested his forehead on his hand.

  “Your Majesty?” the woman with the satchel asked.

  Jusson looked up. “Oh. The royal physician.” He beckoned her over. “We’re sure, Ambassador Laurel, that you won’t mind if she examines Lord Esclaur.”

  Recognizing a demand, no matter how politely couched, Laurel moved aside and allowed the woman access to Esclaur. To her questions, the Faena showed her the leaves and powders he used to make up the antidote and, as she competently poked, pried and pressed, they talked about different herbs and compounds, comparing their methods of healing. Hampered only by Lord Esclaur waking up and weakly demanding that she quit her assault on his person, she soon finished. The physician bowed to the cat and moved to where the king could see her without turning his head. “I agree with Ambassador Laurel, Your Majesty. Given time, my lord should recover. As his pulse is still a little fast and weak, I suggest that he not be moved tonight.”

  A soft snore came from the lordling who had fallen back asleep. “And as he is sleeping naturally, I shan’t bleed him.”

  I was standing behind the healer and so King Jusson could see me look of horror that passed over my face. He gave a faint smile. “Thank you, we trust your judgment.”

  The physician bowed again, gratified, and Laurel offered to show her the officers’ mess, “where, honored healer, you can get a decent cup of tea.”

  The king waited until Laurel’s rumble and the physician’s treble faded down the stairs before looking at the captain of his guard. “Shut the door, Thadro,” he commanded.

  After directing two of the Own to stand guard outside the door, Lord Commander Thadro shut it and walked back over to stand next to King Jusson. Jusson then settled down on the bunk, just as at ease as he had been in his chamber.