Jezebel sat back in her chair and lifted a hand to her chin, letting it all sink in. Devon waited patiently for her to respond. “This source of yours, how reliable is he and how likely is it that those at the ceremony would that know I have this information?”
Devon gave her one of his sadistic smiles. “My source is quite knowledgeable, and conveniently, he does not have any clue that he talked to me at all.”
Jezebel smiled, vaguely wondering at Devon's methods of obtaining the information, but was more concerned with the information itself. “Excellent. And the man we chatted with last night?”
“Taken care of, my lady. The pigs had a rather large breakfast this morning.” He laughed at his own personal joke, and Jezebel raised an eyebrow in amusement. Sometimes his callousness amazed even her. “I would like to warn you as well, my lady, that although it was never mentioned outright, I suspect that there is some sort of magical binding in addition to any oaths they have you swear to, so be prepared.”
“I'll do that,” Jezebel answered, only mildly surprised at this insight. It should be expected from any society such as this that they would take measures to ensure obedience and loyalty. She had no doubt her own magical power would withstand any invasion of will that they could muster against her, however, so she was not overly concerned with this possibility. When she had done her training with the Priesthood, she had suspected that they had tried to put a binding on her, but even only partially trained she had been able to keep them from containing her powers. She didn’t see why the Order would be any more difficult to withstand.
“I must admit that the society is extremely well formed and we were unable to discern the inner workings. My best agents can only make educated guesses at this point as to its real intent. Each level seems to believe in a different ultimate goal which disguises whatever the real purpose is. So again, I caution you.”
Jezebel digested this piece of information. Admitting any sort of failure to her was no small danger, as Devon well knew - though she did give him more leeway than the others. This society must be impressive indeed. Which just makes it all the more useful to me, she reminded herself. She soon fell into thought and dismissed Devon with a wave of her hand, telling him to send in someone with wine as he left.
She stood by the window, staring out into the growing darkness when the servant came with the wine. He poured it for her, and left it on the table next to the window before retreating. She hardly noticed his departure as she paced the room. What sort of story shall I put together as my shameful secret? She considered. It had to be something that they would think gave them leverage over her. She wondered what kinds of stories they must hear and hoped that she would get to hear others once she was inducted. No doubt that would prove amusing.
Her pacing led her back to the window and she reached for the wine. A cold breeze blew over her hand as she wrapped her fingers around the glass, and she looked over her shoulder to scold the servant for having left the window unlocked. Wasting money because of stupidity. Unfortunately, he was already gone. She clicked the lock back into place so that it wouldn't be opened again by the wind, grumbling. Must I do everything myself around here? She took a seat and cradled the wine.
Jezebel spent the next half hour perfecting her lie, going over every possibility and deciding which emotions would best fit with it. When she was satisfied that she had a believable story, she swallowed the last of her wine and went to find a servant to get her dressed and perhaps practice bits of the story on. She stood, momentarily dizzy, and thought absently to herself, perhaps I should not have had quite so much wine.
*
Jonathan was careful not to be seen as he exited Jezebel's estate and made his way down the deserted drive towards the city. It was another hour before Jezebel was expected to arrive at the location that had been given to her, but he wanted to make sure all was ready so that Master would be pleased. Master had gone to great lengths to get him what he had requested, and Jonathan was determined to repay the favor in full. The drug he had just slipped into Jezebel's wine would make her much more pliable for Master to work with. Jonathan was unsure as to why Master had taken an interest in this particular talent personally, but if Master wanted him to watch her, that’s what Jonathan was going to do.
The sun was just setting, but people were already starting to clear out of the streets and Jonathan flitted through the shadows unnoticed. He carefully glanced around and ducked into a back alleyway to knock on a door there. A peephole window slid open and an eye stared at him expectantly. He made the sign; holding his fist in front of his mouth, while drawing back his sleeve to expose the emblem of the eye burned into the flesh of his forearm. The peephole clicked shut, and a moment later the door swung open. Jonathan hurried inside. He asked for the master and was ushered farther into the building, where an altar had been erected for Nuko.
As he entered, he saw that before it knelt the man that he wanted to see. Jonathan took a seat on the bench in the back of the temple, waiting for Master to acknowledge his presence and call him forward.
His eyes wandered around the room and came to rest upon an open tome that was balanced on the top of a pedestal, illuminated by the fires above. Within its pages, Jonathan knew that it told the true history, not the watered-down version that was commonly known. It was with pride that he had recently had the privilege of committing those pages to memory. His latest advancement within the Order had revealed much to him and he felt more conviction for their purpose than ever before.
The tome told how during the age of the Dark King, fear and bloodshed had filled the world as the Dark King rose in power and started the Massacre. Under his rule, the world was stripped of the unworthy as one by one he sent them to his death camps for slaughter. It became a time of blood-magic where those who were privy to its use were god-like in their power. The regular history books condemned him for these actions, but those in the Order knew that his cleansing had been important for the impending return of the true god, Nuko. The world must be prepared, and only the worthy would survive when His time came.
The Dark King had been on the right path for Nuko's reawakening, but had fallen prey to human temptations. He had been crazed by his own power, convinced that he was the god himself, and that madness had proved to be his downfall. He started sending powerful mages – who he convinced himself would oppose him – along with the unworthy to the camps, and in his paranoia ended up depleting the world’s stock of talents rather than building it up in preparation for the reawakening.
After he was overthrown, the Order had banded together to protect the information about blood-magic and Nuko's return from the ignorant fear of the common people. The rebels who overthrew the Dark King had held a great book burning to try and purge the world of the sacred information about blood-magic, and it was only through the efforts of the first members of the Order that any of it had survived. It was the first goal of the Order to protect this information, to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and to use it to further the human race. When used correctly, it was an important factor in Nuko's resurrection.
Within the Order, there were those called the book-keepers who had possession of the books, and others who knew the keys to open them. The organizational complexity allowed no one person to control the power that each book contained. It was imperative that the information did not fall prey to the prying eyes of another of the ilk of the Dark King, hoping to deify themselves rather than make way for the true god’s return.
Though the Dark King had made mistakes, and ended up failing because of his own ambitions, he was right in spreading the Word of the true god. Nuko was the one true God as the Dark King had tried to get the people to see. The trio of gods that the common people worshiped in their folklore was nothing more than that: lore. Physical acts of the Three hadn't been seen for centuries. But Nuko was real, and he would be returning. When he did, those who were in the Order who had spent their lives planning for his return would be rewarded in tur
n. I will be rewarded.
Jonathan's thoughts wandered to Jezebel and her little crony, Devon. During his observation, Jonathan had been unable to fathom why Devon would continue to put up with Jezebel's demands on him and serve her so loyally. Perhaps Devon secretly loves her. They certainly are two of a kind. He tried to imagine the two of them together and wrinkled his nose in distaste. But if that is the case, Devon is seriously unfortunate. Jezebel is simply incapable of love, she probably doesn't even know the meaning of the word. He thought back on his observation of the two. Not that working for her doesn't have other added benefits for the man. He is growing quite wealthy off Jezebel's unwavering trust in him.
“Come,” Master's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Jonathan moved forward towards the altar. He bent down in reverence and whispered the blessings, waiting on bended knee for his Master to address him.
“Jonathan,” the man finally acknowledged, “how was your evening?”
Jonathan was careful not to look directly at Master, whose face was always covered by a black mask underneath his cloak, and answered as cryptically as he had been asked. “She took her wine as usual and should be quite ready for her interview with you.”
The masked figure stood. “Good. You've done well, Jonathan. Depending on what she tells me I may have another assignment for you shortly. Please be in touch.”
Jonathan bowed, and then backed away from the altar. He was always in touch, as Master well knew. His current task finished, he made his way back out of the building with as much stealth as he had entered with and then quickly made his way back to his own humble abode, where the fruit of his labor was waiting to be reaped.
CHAPTER 5
Layna collapsed onto her bed well past midnight, having finally completed all of her chores. She ached in places she hadn't even known she had muscles. Sleepily she debated whether or not she had the strength to give her sore body a good soak in a bath or if she'd just fall asleep and drown. Her muscles screamed in agony, and she knew she would be denied sleep anyway, so she resigned herself to an even later night. So she pulled a towel out, and made her way slowly to the baths.
Once there, she almost fell asleep standing up while listening to the water pour into the tub and watching the heat of the steam rising out of it. When it was full, she slipped out of her tunic and dropped it on the floor. It made a metallic thunk, and she reached down to pick up the necklace that had fallen out of the pocket. She rolled the charm around in her fingers and stepped into the bath, delighting in the warm water soothing her skin. It was a half sphere of amber surrounded by rays of metal making it look like a sun. It was quite pretty really.
As she twirled it around, she wondered about the circumstances surrounding Gryffon's presence. The common belief was that he was here as Jezebel's consort, but neither of them seemed to act in a way that would lead anyone to believe that they actually liked one another, and Gryffon had denied it, though he gave no alternative explanation for his presence. Very odd, very odd indeed. It will probably just be one of those mysteries that I'll never be privy to knowing. She heard and saw quite a bit as a maid, but very rarely were the interesting snippets of information ever fully explained to her. More often it was just tantalizing tidbits that drove her crazy. It was a game among the servants to try and guess the real happenings in the household, but it was a frustrating game to play without ever knowing if you were right. Often their fun took on a sinister edge when some of the older servants got going about the ‘evil lady’ who, they were convinced, was a demon spawn. There were definitely some pretty disturbing stories that circulated the manor.
Layna put the chain she had been playing with over her head. Maybe I'll just try it on. It's not like anyone knows who it's from...She noticed it was warm against her chest as it settled around her neck and she soon forgot it was even there in the comfort of the bath. As she soaked, her muscles slowly relaxed, and soon she had to drag herself out before she really did fall asleep.
She barely made it back to her room before exhaustion overtook her.
The next morning she woke up still tired, but at least her muscles were no longer protesting every move. She made her way down towards the kitchen, and was interrupted while eating her morning roll by the bell to her mistress's suite. Jezebel's voice sounded with it, another surviving magical enhancement, and one that she surprisingly rarely used.
“Someone bring me eggs and toast in bed,” the woman commanded hoarsely.
Layna looked around and saw that the other maid who had previously been in the kitchen with her had conveniently just stepped out. Imagine that, she thought with a hint of sarcasm though she really couldn’t blame the girl. Layna prepared a tray of eggs and toast and made her way to the tower suite that Jezebel occupied. She stopped outside of the door and lightly rapped on it, waiting until Jezebel called out for her to enter before opening it.
Jezebel was still in bed and looked rather unhealthy. Her wavy dark hair was frizzing all over the place and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her already gaunt face looked more strained than usual, and the skin seemed stretched over her bony cheeks. She hardly looked at Layna as she waved her over. Layna held the tray out for her, and Jezebel gingerly took a piece of toast.
The woman held it in front of her for a moment, as if it was some revolting object, before taking a tiny bite. She closed her eyes and slowly chewed, swallowing with difficulty. She sat there for a while unmoving, and Layna had the urge to lean in closer to see if she was still breathing. She quietly sat the tray down next to the woman.
Jezebel cracked open one eye at her, as though she could feel the suddenly closer presence, and she grunted a dismissal at Layna. Layna happily obliged, gently clicking the door shut behind her.
*
The thud of the door echoed dully in Jezebel's head and she sneered at the girl behind it, certain the little minx knew how much of a headache she had and how much it hurt her to have the door slammed so loudly. She shoved the rest of the food as far away as possible, and brought the covers up over her head. The light hurt her eyes, and her heartbeat seemed to pound in her head. The faint smell of food that now permeated the room was starting to make her nauseous.
She didn't think she'd had that much wine last night, but apparently she had been more apprehensive about the ceremony than she had realized. Her memories of last night were hazy as well, which bothered her to no end. She hated feeling out of control, and was not impressed by the large gap in her memory.
She had arrived at the meeting spot and been led down into a basement. From there, she had been taken through a labyrinth of passageways, eventually opening into an underground temple. She had first been interviewed in a small side chamber by a mysterious man who she presumed was someone high-ranking in the Order. He had refused to reveal himself to her, despite her relentless questioning. He wore a black cloak complete with a mask which had served to disguise any recognizable features. Though the night was still a blur, Jezebel felt that she had spent a fair amount of time with this first man. Frustratingly, she could not recall what most of the conversation had been about, though she did remember surprising herself by unintentionally giving truthful answers to many of his queries. Having slipped up like that made her uneasy.
Once she had proceeded in front of the rest of the witnesses in the main temple, the initiation had gone much as Devon had described. By then, she was slightly more clear-headed, and able to recite the lie she had invented without mishap. She had then been forced to listen to the droning narration of all that was expected of a member of the Order, and finally asked the question that Devon said they would require her to answer.
As far as Jezebel could tell, the Order had believed her story wholeheartedly, and it delighted her that they had been so surprised and pleased by her immediate denouncement of the King. The witnesses had all been masked as well, and Jezebel realized that she was going to have to take her infiltration more seriously than she had previously thought. Perhaps Devon
was correct in his advice, she thought sourly.
Since she couldn't ascertain any of the identities, she had no idea what type of people she was dealing with. She could safely assume that they must be noble, as no lower class would have enough intelligence about them to form such a society, but which family they were connected to could potentially tell her volumes. If only I had been able to find even the tiniest clue as to whom they were! She drew a calming breath. It wouldn't do to get so worked up. Relax. I'll just have to be a little more careful until I know exactly who I'm dealing with. She made a mental note to start Devon on the project of digging up any information as to who was involved with the Order.
She also remembered that they had indeed tried to magically bind her to their bidding. Although anticipated, it still angered her. What do they think gives them the right to try and force their way into my head? She found the very idea abhorrent; their inferior minds touching hers. But see, I have nothing to worry about...I knew I would be more powerful than them, and I was. I even fooled them into the belief that their coercion of my loyalty was complete so that I didn't have to bother with a lie as to why it didn't work.
She also remembered a rather amusing detail with clarity. During the recitation of the rules, they had said that all those in the Order must follow the rules, and that being said, all rules were subject to change. Jezebel had the feeling that once she had established herself, many of its members would be easy to manipulate and turn to her own motivations rather than those of the society as a whole.
Jezebel laughed out loud at the thought, and immediately regretted it as pain shot through her head. She took a couple of deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. Yes, the Order deserves some care to be taken in dealing with it, but even so it will work to my advantage once I have properly untangled all the knots. The thought of the power possibly available made Jezebel feel light-headed and she once again had to close her eyes and breathe deeply in order to stop herself from having to rush to the washroom. Damn wine, she swore, I'm cutting it out of my diet entirely.
Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) Page 5
