“I am Stasha Benadicta,” she said. “Steward of Castle Klaar.”
I bowed. “Lord Templeton Kane. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam Steward.”
“Lord Kane.” There was no discourtesy in her tone. There was no warmth either. “I am not familiar with your house.”
“Understandable, milady, as my people originate from the far side of Helva. Naturally, you’d prefer to see appropriate credentials.” I took the bank letters from my road-stained doublet and handed them to her.
Benadicta nodded as she read, apparently recognizing the seals as genuine.
“Welcome to Castle Klaar, Lord Kane.”
“I am humbled and grateful to be here.”
“And what can we do for you, my lord?”
“A courtesy call,” I said. “I’m traveling and thought to present myself to his grace … provided it’s a convenient time of course.”
Courtesy Call was sort of code among visiting nobility. It was a way of saying Hello, I’m passing through and wouldn’t mind a hot meal and a roof over my head for the night. My efforts along these lines had met with mixed results. Once, I presented myself to the manor of a local lord and was told by the head servant that the master of the house was away, only to spy the man watching me from behind the curtain of an upstairs window as I departed. Other times, I received the hoped-for meal and bed in exchange for the tales of the outside world. Travelers were often welcome for the news of the day if nothing else.
Today I was lucky.
“Duke Hammish is hosting a reception and a banquet tonight. Aristocracy from across the region will be in attendance,” Benadicta told me. “I’m afraid we’re a bit crowded at the moment, but we can find you something in the north wing. It’s a bit of a hike to the reception hall I’m afraid.”
“As I am currently at the peak of good health, I won’t find that a problem,” I said. “I’m extremely grateful for the invitation. There is an additional matter.”
“Oh?”
“If you could direct me to a branch of either of the banks for which I’ve provided letters, I’d be most grateful. I find myself short of funds at the moment.”
“Klaar is a bit out of the way for the major banks to consider it worth a branch,” Benadicta said. “Such transactions are handled out of the ducal treasury. For larger amounts, the duke may wish to interview you personally.”
“Thank you. A final question if I may.”
“Go on.”
“What is the occasion for the banquet?”
“To welcome the Baroness Ilga Gorwick”
The ugly name rang a bell, and I searched my memory for --
Oh. The Shadow Sorceress.
Shit.
CHAPTER FIVE
The doublet was a deep burgundy velvet, the pants black, matching silver trim for both. New boots, high and hard up to the knees.
I felt human again.
Silver clinked in my purse. I’d drawn a goodly amount against my account in Tul-Agnon, but apparently not enough to warrant a meeting with the Duke.
As Stasha Benadicta had implied, my quarters were inconveniently located on the far side of the castle. I got lost a few times while searching for the reception but eventually followed the sound of talk and laughter that always accompanied festive gatherings. I fell in with the line of other guests and entered the hall through a wide doorway, pages smartly dressed in the duke’s livery stood on either side, nodding respect as we passed.
The space inside was large, stone pillars leading up into a vaulted ceiling. Conversations echoed, adding to the din. People stood in pairs or groups. I waylaid a servant with a tray full of goblets and claimed one. I took an experimental sip. Good wine, a little heavy but appropriate for winter.
I scanned the room and confirmed I didn’t know a soul. No surprise. Klaar was far and away from my usual stomping grounds.
A hush fell over the room, and I turned my head, looking where everyone else was looking. Whispers echoed strangely. All attention was on the woman entering the hall, a brute of a man a step behind that I took to be her bodyguard.
The woman was coldly gorgeous, skin the even white of a fresh snowfall. Hair glossy black and loose over her shoulders. As it was winter, the women’s gowns were of darker colors, forest greens, reds dark like wine rather then bright like roses, even some unfortunately dull and frumpy browns. But this new woman entering the hall was the only one dressed entirely in black, the gossamer material of her long gown trailing behind her like stygian mist.
I blinked at the bodyguard, a pit growing in my gut upon a closer examination of him, and I realized I recognized the man. Black hair atop his head but shaved on the sides. Pointed black beard. One eye covered by an eyepatch. It was the man who’d led the attack against us in the courtyard of the Poet’s Quarter inn. There was no mistaking him.
Could the woman he protected be anyone but the Shadow Sorceress?
Back in the Poet’s Quarter, his attention had mostly been on Lill at the time, and I hoped my appearance bland enough by comparison that he didn’t find me memorable, but a second later he leaned down to whisper into the woman’s ear, his eyes on me.
Shit.
A second later, her eyes came up also and met mine.
Shit shit shit shit.
They exchanged words, and he bowed and removed himself to stand against the wall as was common for men-at-arms pulling bodyguard duty. The Shadow Sorceress started in my direction, in no particular hurry, pausing occasionally to acknowledge the greeting of a lord or lady.
I thought about turning and making a beeline for the nearest exit, but at the moment, the sorceress’s bodyguard seemed content to stand and wait. I didn’t want to do anything to goad him into action. My mind raced with alternatives. Perhaps if I casually moved toward the exit in a roundabout –
“Lord Templeton Kane, isn’t it?”
I turned, faced the man who’d spoken to me. Middle-aged, handsome. Good hair, brown with distinguished gray streaks at the temples. An expensive blue doublet with gold braiding. He carried his authority so casually that he was obviously a man of some importance.
He stood arm in arm with a pretty woman barely into her twenties. Wavy auburn hair fell to her shoulders, eyes a bright and playful green. Her dark green dress eschewed the current fashion of a low neckline – perhaps another nod to Klaar’s severe winter – in favor of a high collar. She was pretty without being ostentatiously glamorous or intimidating.
Unlike the woman in black who was still headed in my direction.
I watched her approach in my peripheral vision as I bowed to the man in front of me. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir.”
“Sorry about that.” He offered his hand. “Brasley Hammish. I’m duke around here.”
“Oh!” I started to bow then remembered his outstretched hand. I took it tentatively.
His grip was firm but not like a strong man trying to prove something. “It’s a party, isn’t it? No need to be so formal. This is my eldest Mireen.”
The girl nodded. Sincere smile, a flush of youth in her cheeks.
I bowed. “Milady.”
From the corner of my eye, I could still see the woman in black approaching. I felt sudden sweat behind my ears.
“Stasha told me you’d arrived,” Hammish said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say hello before now, but as you can see, we’ve been a bit busy.”
I forced a smile even as the woman in black was almost upon us. “An auspicious occasion, your grace.”
“We’re simple people here in Klaar,” Hammish said. “We aren’t usually given to such lavish affairs, but this is a unique occasion. The people of this region have much to discuss concerning – Oh! Ilga, I’ve been waiting for you. I hadn’t realized you’d arrived.”
She stood with us now, the Shadow Sorceress – Ilga – and the woman offered the duke a smile much warmer than her appearance might suggest possible. I drained my wine goblet, swallowed hard.
“Br
asley.” She said the name coolly and crisply as if it were the first word of a complicated spell. “Excuse me for intruding on your conversation. I saw you when I came in and thought we should speak.”
I inwardly sighed relief. She’d seen the duke standing near me and had come to speak with him. She hadn’t been coming to kill me after all. I’d simply been in her line of sight. I barely contained a nervous giggle.
“The baroness is far too charming to ever intrude.” Hammish gestured to me. “Allow me to present his lordship Templeton Kane. He’s come to us from the western side of Helva.”
She turned her smile on me, and I felt exhilarated and terrified simultaneously.
“I’ve not been very far west,” said the baroness. “Are you from as far away as the Bronze Mountains?”
“My people are from the flats at the foot of the mountains,” I explained. “Well north of the Nomad Lands.”
“I feel you must be up to something terribly interesting to find yourself so far from home,” the Shadow Sorceress said.
I swallowed hard, covered it with a weak smile.
“Alas that we do not have time to get better acquainted,” she continued. “I’m afraid I must steal the duke away for a moment.”
A nod halfway to a bow. “Completely understandable, milady.”
Duke Hammish handed his daughter off to me. “Mireen, entertain Lord Kane, won’t you? It’s important I have a word with the baroness.”
Mireen smiled and nodded obedience. I watched the duke and the Shadow Sorceress leave arm in arm.
Mireen snapped her fingers at a young servant. “Boy.”
The servant altered course abruptly, bringing his tray of drinks to the duke’s daughter. She took two goblets from the tray, and I inferred she meant to hand one of them to me.
Not so.
She downed the first goblet of wine in a single go and replaced it on the tray. She shifted the full goblet to her other hand and turned back to me. “Come on. I want to smoke.”
She began walking, assuming I’d follow.
I did.
Mireen led me through the crowd, exchanging polite nods with a number of the other guests. A moment later, we found ourselves on a wide veranda, kissed by a cold breeze, the temperature mitigated somewhat by the blazing braziers every twenty feet. The chatter of the reception faded into the background. She went to the stone railing, stood a moment and looked out over the city, stone buildings in pale moonlight, dotted with flickering orange – torches and streetlamps and candles in windows.
“A nice view,” I said.
“I’ve seen it.” She set her goblet on the stone railing, stuck two fingers up her left sleeve and pulled out a chuma stick. She stuck it in the corner of her mouth. “Get me a light, would you?”
I stepped to the nearest brazier and plucked a brand from the edge of the fire. I returned and held it out to her. She leaned in, puffing the chuma stick until the tip glowed, and I returned the brand to the fire.
She leaned a hip against the railing, inhaled, then blew the smoke out in a long gray stream, the wind scattering it over the city. “Dumo fuck me, but these things are boring.”
I blinked. “Uh, as you say, milady.”
“Keep your milady. My father’s not here. Mireen is fine.” She puffed the chuma stick again. “And don’t looked so shocked. You’ve heard bad language before.”
“I’ve heard ugly words,” I said. “But never from someone so lovely.”
Mireen rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Sorry. You’d be surprised how far I get with that sort of talk.”
Her smile was sudden and genuine, the chuma stick wagging in the corner of her mouth.
“You don’t like getting dressed up?” I asked. “Good food and wine?”
“The same old people saying all the same dull things,” Mireen said. “I am the duke’s daughter. I have no specific duties beyond looking pretty, speaking politely, and staying out of trouble.”
“But you don’t stay out of trouble, do you?”
“I do not.” She drained the remaining wine in her goblet.
“You could always pack a bag and hop a horse,” I suggested. “Run away and find adventure, new exciting people.”
“I’ve considered it,” she admitted. “The problem is that I’m spoiled, and I intend to go on being spoiled. I have everything I need, and I don’t work. Everyone in Klaar kisses my ass. Adventuring sounds … uncomfortable.”
“I can vouch for this.”
“I’ve yet to meet someone who recommends it.”
“What about the Shadow Sorceress?” I asked. “I doubt she falls into the category of same old dull people.”
A shrug. “Fair enough. We do live in interesting times as they say. War with Fyria is inevitable according to some … primarily according to the king’s most loyal. The baroness – as a matter of courtesy we say baroness instead of Shadow Sorceress by the way – anyway, the baroness leads a faction of the nobility who feel we must avoid war at all costs.”
“Avoiding war doesn’t sound terrible.”
“Except daddy says it’s just an excuse.” She puffed the chuma stick. “Ilga has her eyes on the throne, and this is her way of gathering support.”
I did a double take. “Well. That’s treason, isn’t it?” I looked around to make sure we were alone. “I mean, am I understanding you correctly? The Shadow – uh, the baroness – is here to recruit your father for a coup?”
Mireen laughed. “I doubt it’s gone that far yet. Daddy likes to speculate out loud to mum when he doesn’t know I’m listening. One of his wilder flights of fancy was his notion Ilga wants to put herself on the throne. Suffice it to say, none of us really think she’s motivated purely for a love of peace. She’s too ambitious.”
I chewed my lower lip as I thought about that. The Shadow Sorceress’s men had tried to kill me … but wasn’t that to be expected, considering Lill had stolen something so valuable from her? If the baroness was trying to rally her fellow nobility to peace, then perhaps she wasn’t the evil sorceress I thought she was.
And yet I’d been in her presence only a minute, and knew it wasn’t true. A feeling of malevolence radiated from her, something that was repellent and yet strangely compelling at the same time … making her all the more mysterious.
Or maybe I just had a vivid imagination.
Even Mireen and her family suspected the Shadow Sorceress of ill intentions.
“Not that any of it really matters.” She looked out over the city and sighed as if even the talk of imminent war bored her to death. “Nothing will happen anytime soon, and when it does, it will all happen very far away.”
Not far away enough as far as I was concerned. If war did break out with Fyria, I’d need to put careful thought into where I’d hide myself until it all blew over.
She turned abruptly, smiling at me wickedly. “Amuse me, Templeton. What brings a man like you to the frozen backwater of Klaar?”
I’d spent a good bit of my adult life trying to impress women for obvious reasons with obvious goals in mind. Charm and good looks accomplished the task as often as they got me slapped. Throwing about a bit of money never hurt. But Mireen Hammish was hardly some tittering chamber maid. She lived in a castle, her every whim attended to. My money wouldn’t impress her.
“I have been traveling with an ink mage,” I said. “She’s been seeking new tattoos to increase her power.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her whole body tensed. I’d hoped to impress her but sensed I’d triggered something else – interest but edged with suspicion.
“Are you here for my sister?” Mireen asked. “Is that why you’ve come to Klaar? For Nell?”
“What? No, I – I didn’t even know you had a sister. Nell, is it?”
A long pause as she looked me up and down, perhaps wondering what she’d missed when we’d first met. Another long, contemplative drag on the chuma stick.
Her expression softened.
A
little.
“There is a woman, an ink mage named Maurizan. Friend of the family,” Mireen explained. “She arranged to have Nell and I tested. If you’ve been associating with an ink mage, then you probably already know not everyone can take the Prime tattoo.”
It occurred to me I knew surprisingly little about Lill’s tattoos. I knew if she used them too much, she could drain herself. And that they were rare and gave her extraordinary powers. But how they worked with Lill’s body, how they’d been invented, where they’d come from, and the different varieties of tattoos that might exist … not a clue.
“My sister passed the test,” Mireen said. “I didn’t.”
She hid the resentment in her voice fairly well but not completely.
“She’s off adventuring, in search of new tattoos in far and exotic places,” Mireen said. “I’m stuck here in the wilderness. With the same boring old people having the same conversations over and over again. Even my complaining about it is boring and repetitive.”
“If it means anything, we didn’t come for any reason to do with your sister,” I told her. “Lill is looking for some kind of wizard who can help her with a new tattoo.”
“Lill is her name? I’ve heard the vast majority of ink mages are female.”
“She’s the only one I’ve met, so I’ll have to take your word for it. But I don’t think this wizard will do her any good. I don’t really understand the specifics, but evidently this new tattoo is something different.” I shrugged. “I infer whatever it is, it might not be compatible with ink magic.”
Considering the circumstances, I refrained from mentioning that this new magic was something Lill had stolen from The Shadow Sorceress. Might put a damper on things, the baroness being guest of honor and all.
Mireen raised an eyebrow. “Some new magic, you say?” She stepped forward, very close to me, lifted her chin to look up into my eyes, and raised her empty goblet. “I’m interested in exploring this further, but good conversation requires good wine, don’t you think?”
I smiled. “I’d be delighted to fetch you a refill.”
“No. Too many prying eyes and ears. Somewhere private.”
The Shadow Sorceress Page 4
