Soulbinder (Book 3)

by Ben Cassidy

  Kendril sighed. “Hello, Maklavir.”

  The diplomat gave Madris a curious look, then glanced back at Kendril.

  “I say,” he said in a confused tone, “did I miss something?”

  “She’s taking too long,” Olan grumbled. He stood by the warehouse’s window, peering out through the frosted glass.

  “Relax,” rumbled Hamis. He took a sip of water from a canteen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “She knows what she’s doing, Olan.”

  “Does she?” Olan turned back into the room. “She trusts that Ghostwalker far too much.”

  Hamis shrugged good-naturedly. “They’re old friends. She knows him well.”

  Olan made a sour face. “I know him too. I’ve seen what Kendril is capable of. If Madris trusts him then she’s a fool.”

  Tomas flipped a dagger in his hand. “Madris is many things, but she is no fool. You should know that by now, Olan.”

  The black-haired Ghostwalker snorted angrily. He bounced a clenched fist off the top of a nearby barrel.

  “So,” said Joseph, “this is fun. I’m glad you all could drop on by.”

  Tomas gave a sardonic smile.

  Wanara got up, and gestured to a plate of bread and cheese on the table. She looked over at Joseph and Kara, and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  Kara squinted at the other woman. “You want…to have something to eat?” She shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  The white-haired woman bowed her head in thanks, then took some food from the plate.

  Hamis eyed the plate hungrily himself as Wanara returned to the crate she had been sitting on. He licked his lips. “I don’t suppose…?”

  Joseph chuckled. “Go ahead.”

  The large Ghostwalker began to dive eagerly into the food himself.

  Olan glared at him. “You disgrace yourself, Hamis.”

  “Oh, please,” said Hamis with a mouth stuffed full of bread. “I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.” He held out a piece of cheese. “Here.”

  Olan raised a hand. “No thank you.”

  Kara glanced furtively over at Wanara. When she spoke, her voice was low. “Can she…not speak?”

  Tomas smiled darkly. “She can speak. She chooses not to.”

  Joseph raised his eyebrows. “But why--?”

  “It’s her vow.” Tomas leaned back against a barrel. “You’ve spent time with Kendril. Has he never told you anything of us?”

  “Not much,” Joseph responded.

  “But wait,” Kara began, her voice still low, “Kendril hasn’t taken any vow of silence.”

  “And as you’ve probably noticed,” said Tomas with a wry smile, “neither have I.”

  Olan crossed to the window again, tapping the hilt of the long sword he wore at his belt.

  “Ghostwalkers take different vows?” Joseph leaned forward, genuinely curious.

  Tomas gave a short nod. “Penance is personal, and so are our vows. Wanara has taken a vow of silence.” He inclined his head over at Hamis. “For Hamis, it’s no alcohol or red meat.” His eyes flitted over to where Callen slouched against the wall by the back door, tenderly touching his hurt nose. “Callen there has taken a vow of non-violence.”

  Kara uncrossed her arms in surprise. “Non-violence?”

  Tomas looked over at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Not all Ghostwalkers are Sword specialization like Olan or Hamis, or your friend Kendril. Callen specializes in the healing arts, for instance.”

  Joseph stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I dabble in herbs and medicine a bit myself.”

  “You should talk to him. The two of you might have much to share.”

  “So the Ghostwalkers have different specializations? Different…” Kara searched for the right word, “roles?”

  Tomas cocked his head. “You really don’t know anything about us, do you?”

  “You’ve told us more in about two minutes than Kendril has told us the whole time we’ve known him,” Joseph said drily.

  “So the vows you take,” Kara asked slowly, “do they have anything to do with the sins you have committed, the ones you are atoning for?”

  Tomas blanched. He looked quickly away. “A Ghostwalker never discusses his past, not even with other Ghostwalkers.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Kara, “I didn’t mean to—I was just curious, was all.”

  Tomas was quiet a moment. The only sound was the pattering of snow against the window pane.

  “Vows are chosen individually by each Ghostwalker,” he said at last. “They can relate to the sin being atoned for, although they don’t have to.”

  “So what’s your vow, Tomas?” asked Joseph.

  Kara gave the scout a warning glance, but he ignored it.

  Tomas smiled sadly. “To always tell the truth.”

  “A vow I doubt you have ever kept a day in your life,” Olan snapped. He turned from the window, his hand clenched on his sword hilt. “We should have left Kendril to rot here in Vorten. This is a waste of all our time.”

  Joseph frowned. “Kendril has told us about the Soulbinder. I would think that you Ghostwalkers of all people should be the most concerned about—”

  Olan spun on his heel to face the scout. “And you trust Kendril? Then you don’t know him at all.”

  Joseph straightened. “That’s a bit harsh.”

  “Is it?” Olan looked hard at Joseph and Kara. “You say you are Kendril’s friends? Then you lie. Kendril has no friends, because he trusts no one. He is using you, and when you are no longer useful to him, he will sacrifice you without even thinking twice.” He leaned in closer. “Mark my words. Kendril is by far the most dangerous man I have ever known, both to himself and to everyone else around him. He is a weapon that is out of control, because he doesn’t care about anyone or anything.”

  Kara and Joseph gaped at the man, speechless.

  Olan turned back to the window.

  Chapter 17

  “No one said anything about Ghostwalkers being here.” Senna looked over Maklavir’s shoulder and frowned disapprovingly at the cluster of dark-robed figures in the warehouse behind him.

  “Now, Senna,” said Maklavir calmly, “they’ll be no trouble, I assure you. I’ll pay you extra for the food they eat.”

  The girl crossed her arms. “They’d better not eat a lot.” She gave her head a quick shake. “The gendarmes are already on the lookout for that one Ghostwalker friend of yours. I know that you would never be involved in any kind of murder, Maklavir, but as to these folk…”

  “Now Senna,” said Maklavir as he slid an arm around her shoulders, “you have my word. They’ll be no trouble, and they’ll be gone within a week, I promise.”

  The innkeeper snorted. “I’ve seen what your promises are worth, you rogue. This old warehouse is starting to turn into a veritable hotel. I have rooms back in the inn, you know.”

  “We’re already paying you more for the use of the warehouse than any of your rooms are worth. Come on, Senna, it won’t be for long.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  Senna giggled and slapped the diplomat playfully on the arm. “I’ll never know why I put up with you, Maklavir.” She shook her apron, then disappeared out the side door of the warehouse, still muttering to herself.

  “Doesn’t seem like very appropriate behavior for a married man,” said Joseph from where he sat on the top of a nearby crate.

  “Oh, not that again,” Maklavir moaned. “I’ve already explained myself a dozen times, and I’m not about to start again.” He clasped his hands nervously behind his back. “Is she trying on the dress on yet? I do hope the tailor got the fitting right.”

  “We’ll know soon enough.” Joseph glanced towards the back of the warehouse, where a wall of crates and barrels blocked their view. “We’ll have to talk about how exactly you managed to know Kara’s dress size.”

  “I have eyes,” said Maklavir crossly. “Don’t tell me you’ve never looked at her.”

  “No,�
�� said Joseph quickly. “I haven’t. At least not like that. I mean not like—how exactly have you been looking at her?”

  Maklavir opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Great Eru, you’re jealous.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are too.” Maklavir looked closely at the scout. “Don’t tell me—are you and Kara…the two of you…you’re not--?”

  Joseph blushed bright red. “No, of course not. Not really, I mean. Are you and her…I mean, you two aren’t--?”

  Maklavir tossed back his head. “Certainly not.”

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them.

  “Don’t you have a carriage to be working on?” Maklavir asked after a moment.

  “Don’t you have…something to be doing?” Joseph returned.

  The diplomat opened his mouth when a flash of white appeared from behind the line of crates.

  “It’s a little tight in the back,” said Kara as she emerged. The glittering white dress she wore flowed down around her like scattering snowflakes. “Still, it doesn’t fit too badly, all things considered. What do you guys think?”

  The two men stared at her for a long moment, absorbing the enticing curves of her lovely figure.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Neither of you are saying anything.”

  “It’s—it’s—” Joseph stuttered.

  “It certainly—“ Maklavir began, just as tongue-tied as his companion, “I mean you certainly—“

  “You look amazing. Every eye in the ballroom will be on you.” Kendril came up beside them. He ran his eyes up and down the white dress. “We’ll need someone to do your hair, though.”

  Kara brushed back her tangled locks of flaming red hair with a grimace. “I hadn’t thought of that. I guess sleeping by a campfire hasn’t really improved things.”

  “This is your plan?” Olan’s voice rumbled from behind them. “A white dress?”

  Kendril turned, his face hard.

  “Quiet, Olan,” came Madris’ soft tone. She hobbled over to where Kara stood and gave an approving nod. “You look lovely, my dear.”

  Kara breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s just one evening right? I can survive anything for one night.”

  Olan gave Kendril a nasty glare. “As long as you retrieve this supposed Soulbinder.”

  Maklavir cleared his throat, and turned back to Kara. “Yes, well there’s only one thing left for you to learn, my dear.”

  Kara groaned. “Oh, Eru please no. I’ve already learned more about place settings, titles, curtsies, and snobbery than I ever wanted to know.”

  Maklavir tugged at his collar nervously. “I know. And you have done fabulous. But there still is…the dancing.”

  Kara’s face visibly whitened. “Dancing? I thought I’d just be standing on the sidelines or something.”

  “Well,” Maklavir glanced around for support, “it is a ball, after all. And you are a young woman. It would seem strange for you not to dance. And technically speaking, anyone can ask for a dance with you.”

  The redhead put her face in both hands. “But you’re my husband, Maklavir. Why would anyone else ask me to dance?”

  Joseph raised a finger. “Pretend husband,” he reminded no one in particular.

  Olan looked harshly over at Madris. “You see? This girl does not have what it takes to accomplish a mission of this magnitude.”

  “I do too,” Kara fired at him. “Eru in Pelos, do you ever just shut up? You’ve said nothing good since the moment you barged into this warehouse.”

  Kendril smirked.

  Olan stood to his full height, his face contorting in anger.

  Madris masterfully hid a smile herself. “I’m with Kara on this, Olan. We have set our course. Your constant criticisms do no one here any good.”

  Olan glanced behind him.

  Tomas lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Hamis avoided eye contact.

  “Fine,” Olan snarled. “But mark my words, this foolhardy approach will end in blood.” He turned and stormed out the back door of the warehouse.

  Kendril turned to his friends. “To be fair, once you get to know him he really is much worse.”

  Maklavir hid a grin behind an improvised cough.

  “Kendril,” said Madris in the lightly reproving tone of a school mistress.

  “Let’s get this over with,” said Kara in an irritated tone. “If I have to learn how to dance, then teach me.”

  “Alright,” said Maklavir. “Well first—”

  “Let me change first,” said Kara. She vanished back behind the crates. “I can barely move in this dress.”

  “But you’ll be wearing—” called Maklavir after her, to no effect. “Oh, bother.”

  Kendril shrugged. “Good luck.” He glanced towards the back door. “As for me, I think I’ll go for a little walk.”

  Madris looked at him sternly. “I don’t need any trouble from you, Kendril. You know that.”

  The Ghostwalker raised both his hands innocently. “Just a walk, that’s all.” He grinned, then tromped towards the door.

  Olan glanced back over his shoulder. The falling snow outlined his black hood in sparkling white. “Kendril.”

  The Ghostwalker trudged through the snow in the alley between the riverside buildings. “I thought we should talk for a moment.”

  Olan turned towards him, his face impassive. One hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword. “So talk.”

  “I’m tired of you insulting my friends,” said Kendril. “From now on if you have an opinion to make, bring it to me or Madris in private.”

  “Spoken like a true section commander, Kendril.” Olan tightened the grip of his hand on the sword under his cloak. “Except you’re not one, and I am. That means that you don’t give me orders.”

  “But Madris does,” Kendril responded quickly. “And she seems to think that my plan is best.”

  “For now.” Olan’s face was dark under the shadow of his raised hood. “Don’t forget, Kendril, if this situation turns violent, then a Sword specialization has priority of command.” He gave a thin smile. “That would be me.”

  “Let’s get something straight right now, then,” said Kendril. “I won’t take orders from you, Olan. And neither will any of my team. Not if Vorten itself is burning to the ground.”

  “Just like in New Marlin,” growled Olan. “You’re still the same arrogant, stupid fool you always were. You don’t respect the chain of command. You disobey orders. And people die because of it.”

  Kendril’s face changed. “We both know who was to blame for that.”

  “Yes,” said Olan coldly. “We both do.”

  “Well, this has been fun,” said Kendril. “Always good to catch up on old times.” He turned to go.

  “There is something you should understand,” said Olan tightly.

  Kendril looked back at the man.

  “A Ghostwalker who will not obey his superiors is a threat to himself and others.” Olan’s hand twisted on the handle of his sword. “And if I am in command, I intend to remove any threats to the welfare of our mission.”

  Kendril gave a cutting smile. “If you do, I suggest you stab me in the back. Because we both know you can’t take me in fair fight.”

  Olan’s hand clenched into a balled fist.

  Kendril turned, braced both his feet, and grabbed the hilt of one of his short swords. The smile remained on his face. “Care to prove me wrong?”

  Olan stared at him a long moment, his arm tensed. Finally he threw his hand off the handle of his sword. “I will not be goaded by you, Kendril. I will deal with you in the proper time, not before.”

  Kendril gave him a two-finger salute. “Until then.”

  He turned back to the warehouse.

  “Here you are.” Joseph turned the corner of the warehouse, rubbing his hands briskly against the chill. “Maklavir is looking for you.”

  Kara closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the side of the buildin
g. “Regnuthu take Maklavir.”

  Joseph gave a sympathetic smile. “Had enough of the dancing, huh?”

  “It’s been four straight hours.” She kicked out her legs. “My feet are killing me. Who knew that strutting around a ballroom could be so hard?”

  Joseph sat down in the snow beside her. “We only have one day left. I can see why Maklavir wants to make sure you get it.”

  Kara opened her eyes, looking up at the falling specks of snow. “I don’t know if I can do this, Joseph.”

  The scout looked over at her. “Yes you can, Kara. You are one of the most capable, intelligent, resourceful women that I’ve ever…” His voice trailed off and his face turned red. “I mean, you are certainly…you don’t have to—”

  Kara smiled. She gave Joseph a kiss on the cheek. “You’re certainly cute when you’re flustered,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Then you must find him cute all the time.” Kendril stepped into the alley, his dark cloak flapping behind him. “Maklavir is looking for you.”

  Kara groaned. “I know.”

  Joseph looked up at the Ghostwalker with no small amount of annoyance. “Couldn’t you come back….later?” he said between his teeth.

  “Sorry,” said Kendril. “Time is not on our side.”

  Kara gave a deep sigh. “All right, all right.” She pushed herself up to a standing position. “I’m coming.”

  “Good.” Kendril looked over at Joseph. “Head on back to the warehouse. Tell Maklavir that Kara is taking a break.”

  The thief raised her eyes in surprise.

  “If Kara’s taking a break,” said Joseph, “then why can’t you go and tell Maklavir?”

  “Because I have to teach her how to dance,” said Kendril. “Now go. I’ll bring her back, I promise.”

  Joseph got to his feet. “If we’re supposed to be a team,” he grumbled, “then I’m not sure who exactly made you the leader.”

  “Come on,” said Kendril. He held out a hand to Kara. “There’s a little space back behind the warehouse.”

  “We’re going to dance in the snow?” Kara rolled her eyes. “That should be much easier than on a wooden floor. I can’t wait.”