The Tattooed Duchess (A Fire Beneath the Skin Book 2)

by Victor Gischler

  The rope yanked tight. Agonizing pain lanced through Rina’s shoulder. She would have screamed if she hadn’t been tapped into the spirit.

  She felt and heard stitches pop, but the fabric held. They swung wide, out and around and then back toward the tower, slammed into the rough stonework. Talbun grunted but held on to Rina. Slamming into the wall knocked Rina’s grip loose and they fell, hitting the roof of the castle’s east wing eight feet below. It was a peaked roof, tiles slick with morning dew, and they both slid toward the edge, the wizard slightly ahead of the duchess.

  Rina was mildly aware of her left arm hanging limp at her side, but most of her attention was focused on not sliding off the roof and crashing into the courtyard three stories below.

  Talbun slid over the edge and just barely managed to latch on to the edge of the gutter. She clung by her fingertips and shouted, “Help!”

  Rina slid after her. There was nothing to grab on to. She summoned all the strength from the bull tattoo and squeezed her fist tight. Her feet just started to clear the edge of the roof, and she punched down hard through the tile and wood beneath, smashing a hole through the roof. She heard and felt bones and knuckles crack and break but held on to the new hole she’d made, feet dangling in midair.

  “Grab my ankle,” Rina yelled at the wizard. “I can’t move my other arm. You’ll have to grab my leg and pull yourself up.”

  Talbun grabbed her ankle. “Do you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “The wyvern.”

  Rina craned her neck, turned her head from side to side, trying to see every inch of the sky at once. “I don’t see it.”

  Talbun pulled herself up using Rina’s leg then lay panting on the slanted roof next to her. “There’s a balcony and a window over there. If we can ease ourselves along the roof without slipping and busting our asses, I think we’ll be okay.”

  Talbun looked at Rina’s dangling arm. “You’re hurt.”

  “The arm’s out of its socket,” Rina said. “Don’t worry. I won’t feel it until later.” Already she felt the healing rune doing its work. Her hand had stopped throbbing.

  They made their way slowly along the roof, and Talbun helped Rina over the stone railing and onto a small balcony. They threw open a pair of shutters, and Talbun helped Rina crawl through the window. They found themselves on the other side in an unused sitting room.

  Rina had used a lot of the spirit, but she just needed to stay tapped in a few more seconds. With her good hand, she reached around and wrenched her limp arm, popping it back into its socket.

  She released the spirit, pain flooding in white-hot, and passed out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Well?” Commander Tchi looked at Jariko with impatience. “Is it done?”

  Both of them looked across the table at Prullap. The young wizard blinked, coming out of his trance, looking slack jawed and sleepy.

  “The commander asked you a question, Prullap.” Jariko tugged at one of his long, braided moustaches. “Is she dead?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  Jariko made a disgusted noise and turned away, rolling his eyes.

  “You wanted the wyvern to attack the tower. It did,” Prullap said. “It was a long flight from the mountains, a long time to control such an animal. I made it obey as long as possible. It destroyed the tower. I don’t know after that. I lost control.”

  Jariko turned to Tchi. “See, I told you. If the demon I summoned couldn’t do the job, then something as clumsy as this was bound to fail.”

  Prullap frowned but kept his mouth shut.

  “My spy in the castle told us Veraiin goes to the tower,” Tchi said. “I will have her confirm or deny the duchess’s death. We will know soon enough.” He waved them away, fatigued by their presence. “Go now. I will send for you if I need you.”

  The two wizards rose from the table, bowed perfunctorily, and left.

  A moment later, Tchi stood also, clasped his hands behind his back and paced the little room. His thoughts refused to congeal. He went to the window and threw open the shutters. The cool wind on his face felt good, crisp and bracing.

  The village below went along in the usual way, peasants going about their business. They’d grown somewhat used to the Perranese presence but still went out of their way to avoid the warriors.

  Beyond the palisades, patchy snow still clung to the plain. Spring was coming. The road that led out from the town gate twisted eventually into the tree line of a forest. A figure on a horse emerged, riding toward the town. He couldn’t see who it was at this distance but suspected it was the overdue spy, not from Klaar but from Merridan.

  Tchi watched the rider approach, observed the men open the front gate and question him briefly before sending him through. A moment later there was a knock at Tchi’s door.

  “Come.”

  The spy entered, bowed, and closed the door behind him. He was the most unmemorable-looking man Tchi had ever seen.

  An asset in his line of work, I’d imagine.

  “Something warm? Tea?” Tchi offered.

  A lopsided grin from the spy. “Something stronger, if it’s not too forward, sir. Been a long ride.”

  Tchi retrieved a pitcher and two cups from the cabinet behind him. “Brandy? It’s not very good, I’m afraid.”

  “Good enough for me, sir.”

  Tchi set the cups on the table and began to pour. “What news from Merridan?”

  “Pemrod is sending out a force,” the spy said. “Five thousand men. I rode hard out of the south gate just ahead of them.”

  Tchi’s head came up abruptly, eyes wide. He spilled some of the brandy. “Five thousand? Coming here?”

  The spy shook his head. “South to Sherrik. There’s a staging area near the river just south of Merridan. They’re loading the army onto barges. They’ll take the river as far as the white water then go overland from there.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know, sir,” the spy said. “But riders came in from Sherrik four days ago, important types by the look of the fancy livery. Whatever they told the king has the whole court buzzing. Some of my boys are trying to get the story, but I thought I’d better get out here and let you know.”

  Tchi chewed his bottom lip. A second later, he shouted for one of his junior officers, who then entered the room and saluted.

  “I want five hundred men ready to march in twenty-four hours,” Tchi told the officer. That would leave a handful of men to hold the town in case they needed to fall back. He didn’t relish the thought, but it was his job to consider every contingency. “Tell the men to pack light so we can move quickly.”

  “Yessir.” The officer saluted again and left.

  “Begging your pardon,” the spy said. “But what are you going to do with five hundred men against five thousand?”

  “Not a thing,” Tchi said with an indulgent smile. “I’m extremely brave. Not extremely stupid.”

  In fact, Tchi had little idea what he was going to do at all, but some instinct told him the time for sitting still was over. Could his small force affect upcoming events in some significant way? Maybe or maybe not. But he wanted to put himself in a position to try. Opportunities often fell from the sky.

  “Get something to eat and some rest,” Tchi told the spy. “I might have another job for you soon.”

  ***

  Rina held the chuma stick in a trembling hand, leaned forward to light it from a candle flame. She drew in a lungful of smoke, held it, then exhaled. Her entire body hurt. Her hand ached. Her arm felt like it could not properly be connected to her shoulder, but the castle physician confirmed she’d popped it back into its socket.

  She sat and smoked. Bruny and Stasha and a handful of other woman buzzed around the room like panicked nannies. Mostly they attended to Talbun’s scrapes and bruises. Rina had stayed tapped into the spirit as long as possible to let the healing rune do its work, but eventually she’d had to let it go. She’d used a lot, almost too mu
ch.

  Now she felt the full impact of her remaining injuries.

  “Bruny?”

  The servant looked at her with wide eyes. “Your grace?”

  “Brandy.”

  “At once, your grace.”

  “Wait,” Rina said. “Do we have anything stronger?”

  “There’s a jug of that foul stuff Tosh favors in the pantry,” Bruny said. “It’ll knock a horse on its . . . pardon, grace. Yes, it’s quite strong.”

  “Bring it.”

  Bruny brought the drink. Other women brought in fresh dresses for Rina and the wizard.

  Rina took the chuma stick from her mouth and gulped down half the cup Bruny had poured for her. She coughed, fire burning her throat and nostrils, her eyes watering. I remember this stuff. She’d only sipped before when she, Tosh, Brasley, and Alem had sat on the ruined Long Bridge contemplating the future.

  She took another gulp. A peaceful, warm feeling spread through her limbs. It numbed the pain slightly.

  “More.” She held the cup out to Bruny. “And where’s Alem?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, your grace.” Bruny refilled the cup.

  Rina puffed, then drank again, sipping this time.

  When Stasha came back into the room, Rina asked again. “Have you seen Alem?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Stasha said. “He’s off with the others. They should be halfway down the Small Road by now.”

  Rina froze, the cup almost to her mouth. “What?”

  “With Tosh and his people,” Stasha said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you about the trouble in the stables. Alem wasn’t injured too badly.”

  Rina stared blankly for a long second. “What?”

  “But it’s okay,” Stasha insisted. “Alem was still able to go with them.”

  Confusion clouded Rina’s face completely. “What?”

  Now the chamberlain looked confused too. “I’ve told you. Alem is . . .” Her eyes slowly widened. “You don’t know.”

  Rina shook her head.

  “I’m most dreadfully sorry, milady. It never occurred to me—I mean, I never thought Alem would go off without asking . . .”

  “Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly,” Rina said. “Alem is gone. With Tosh. He’s left Klaar.”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?” She realized she’d raised her voice. All the heads in the room turned to look at her.

  “I’m sorry, your grace,” Stasha said. “I assumed you’d sent him as part of some plan.”

  “Never mind. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Rina turned away, puffed the chuma stick thoughtfully. It didn’t make any sense. Had she done something to him, maybe said something he’d taken the wrong way? What could possibly have compelled Alem to suddenly undertake such a journey? It was just Tosh, and a few of his guardswomen, and . . .

  Maurizan.

  No. That was over before it had really even begun. Alem had chosen Rina. And anyway, the gypsy girl was more likely to slip a dagger between Alem’s ribs than try to lure him away with a few batted eyelashes. No, Alem and Rina were happy. He wouldn’t choose to go with Maurizan. Unless . . .

  Was it possible he’d heard about Ferris Gant’s proposal? But that didn’t make any sense. She’d refused Gant. None of this made any sense.

  Rina realized her chamberlain was still standing next to her, waiting for orders.

  “I’m raising you to steward,” Rina said.

  Stasha raised an eyebrow. “Your grace?”

  “I need to leave Klaar, just for a while,” Rina said. “I have to do something.” The chamberlain ran the castle. But as steward, Stasha Benadicta would have the authority to run the whole duchy in Rina’s stead.

  Rina’s eyes met Talbun’s. There was the briefest moment of consideration, and then the wizard nodded.

  It’s settled, then. Good. Might as well get on with it.

  “Stasha, is Count Becham’s party still scheduled to depart in the morning?” Rina asked.

  “Yes, milady.”

  “Then please convey to him my best wishes and ask if I and a very small retinue might accompany him as far as Merridan.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A servant woke Rina just before dawn, and she rose, grumbling.

  It had been a poor night’s sleep. It had taken her too long to drift off. She was nervous the glowing red eyes would chase her again in another dream. When she finally did fall asleep, she’d started awake several times, reaching for the empty space where Alem should have been, only to remember a second later that he’d abandoned her.

  That’s how she felt: abandoned. She alternated between sick confusion and anger.

  In the stables, she kept looking for him as if it had all been a mistake. No sign of him. Only bucktoothed stable boys tossing saddles onto mounts. Talbun already sat astride a tall black stallion. She looked odd to Rina in the conservative brown riding dress with the split skirts and forest-green cloak. When Rina had first met the wizard, she’d strutted around topless like some exotic foreign queen supervising an all-male harem. She’d been beautiful and glamorous, and there had been a bright aura around her.

  Talbun was still quite a beautiful woman, but she now seemed . . . ordinary.

  Rina mounted her horse, looked at the wizard. Talbun grinned.

  “What’s the joke?”

  “No joke,” Talbun said. “I was just noticing again how much the armor suits you.”

  Rina had donned the black armor again. It was tailored to a woman’s body, fitting close, not heavy and bulky like a man’s armor. “I hope you don’t want it back.”

  Talbun shook her head. “It was a gift.”

  Rina draped the fur-collared cloak around her shoulders. It was the same cloak she’d taken from Kork, but she’d had it hemmed for her shorter stature. “What about you? Any luck?”

  The grin fell from Talbun’s face. “No.” She’d taken a dozen servants and had scoured the courtyard and circled the outside of the prayer tower, hoping to find any of Weylan’s books or scrolls that might have survived the attack. “Shredded, scorched, and scattered to the wind.”

  “Not even the spell book?”

  “Especially not the spell book,” Talbun said bitterly. “I only have the few spells still in my head. When they’re gone, they’re gone.”

  A wizard without spells. Not very helpful. Still, she knows more about these things than I do. I need her.

  “Come on,” Rina said. “Let’s catch up with the others.”

  They took the cobblestone streets at a trot and minutes later entered the grand marketplace’s courtyard, in front of the city’s main gates. Becham and his party prepared for departure, heralds lining up in front, supply wagons bringing up the rear. Rina and Talbun reined in their horses next to Gant and Becham, and Rina made introductions.

  “Your steward said your entourage would be small, but I expected more than just this young lady.” Becham bowed to Talbun as well as he could from horseback. “Obviously quality makes up for lack of quantity.”

  Talbun nodded and smiled. “You’re most gracious, Count Becham.”

  Rina rolled her eyes.

  Gant saw her and grinned. She returned the grin then immediately frowned. I’m in no mood for your charm, she reminded herself.

  “The Hammish estate is a short detour,” Rina said to Becham. “I’d like to break off and ask Brasley to join us. It’s rather a long story, but he’s a valuable retainer, and I find I suddenly have need of him.” The words valuable retainer in connection to Brasley weren’t words she’d ever expected to utter. More surprising still was the fact it was the truth. “With your permission, of course.”

  “It’s not my permission you need,” Becham said. “If you can pry him away from his new bride, then my son-in-law is welcome.”

  “Thank you.”

  The count raised his voice, doing his best to sound like an old campaigner. “Very well, then. Let’s get started, shall we? Ther
e’s a reasonably serviceable inn a day’s ride from here, and I’m too old to camp in the damp wilderness. Heralds, lead the way, and . . .”

  The sound of a galloping horse distracted them.

  A man in full plate armor on an enormous white steed rounded the corner. A big man, barrel chested, broad shoulders made broader by the bulky armor. A white cloak trimmed in gold draped across his shoulder. No sword hung from his belt. Instead, there was a thick and murderous-looking mace. The face guard was down on his helm. Rina had no idea who the man could be. Another rider on a smaller brown gelding followed him, a skinny lad of maybe sixteen, with the look of a gawking squire.

  The white steed clattered to a stop in front of Rina, and the man in plate dismounted. He took off his helm.

  It was Bishop Feridixx Hark.

  If he seemed an unlikely bishop in his fine clerical robes, he looked every bit at home in the plate armor, powerful and strong, like he might knock the castle down with a single blow of his mace. He tucked his helm under one arm and bowed low.

  “Duchess Veraiin, I owe you an apology,” Hark said.

  She regarded the bishop with a raised eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “You needed help. Klaar needed help, and I turned my back on you,” Hark said. “At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, that the pious among us needed to set an example to . . . well . . . offset your choice of chamberlain.”

  “Steward now,” Rina told him.

  “So I’ve heard,” Hark said. “I wanted to send a message that Dumo did not approve of certain behaviors, but such matters seem petty now, and I feel obligated to offer my assistance.”

  “You’re no good to me if your loyalty comes and goes on a whim,” Rina said. “What changed your mind?”

  “Dreams,” the bishop said. “And wicked red eyes watching me from the shadows.”

  Silence descended over the courtyard.

  Rina cleared her throat, turned to Count Becham, and forced a smile. “It seems my retinue will be slightly larger than expected.”

  ***

  The journey down the mountain was quick and uneventful, and by the time they reached the village of Crossroads, the temperature had warmed enough that Rina removed her cloak and packed it away into a saddlebag. By Klaarian standards it was practically a heat wave.