by Edun, Terah
Vana smiled a toothy grin. “I might have convinced him to leave a life of crime.”
“For the morality of your cause?” asked Kane.
“For double his yearly take.”
“Damn, I’m in the wrong line of work,” muttered Kane.
“All right, lads and ladies,” said Vana. “My core will carry Inga, Thanar’s got the boy, Ciardis stick with your mother, and Caemon—you’re with me.”
Everyone took their places. When Vana gave her marching orders in that tone of voice, it was best to just go along with it. Her other ideas tended to end in massive bloodshed and slit throats. This idea actually seemed reasonably safe.
Chapter 7
They made it back to Lord Steadfast’s mansion in one piece and gathered in the downstairs parlor. Vana set Thomas down firmly in a hard-backed chair and lashed him to the seat with the rope from a nearby window valance.
“Close the curtains on all the windows,” ordered Lillian.
With barely a shrug, Ciardis and Caemon went to the six floor-length windows in the parlor and pulled their dark curtains closed. When a portly female servant with ruddy cheeks knocked on the door politely and eased it open with a, “Good evening, masters and mistresses, I’ve brought tea. With the weather being as cold as it is and all.” Vana frowned and stepped forward. Lillian held up a halting hand and spoke as if she was the lady of the manor. “Set it in the corner and leave. We’ll be needing no more service tonight. Instruct the maids and footmen to retire to bed.”
The servant quickly nodded as she glanced askance over at the bound boy in the chair before Thanar stepped in front of Thomas, his darkening gaze fastened on the woman. Her cheeks quickly paled under the splotches of red that marred her face and she exited back out the door.
As she left, Thomas began to awake. His eyes fluttered open and he struggled to sit up before he realized he was bound to the chair with rope. As everyone turned to stare at him, confusion and trepidation flashed across his face. Their brooding looks didn’t help. He began to hyperventilate again while trying to speak, but was overcome with anxiety.
Muttering, Caemon came forward. “This isn’t working.”
He hiked up his dress pants as he knelt down in front of the seated mage. He reached forward with both hands to grip the trembling boy’s balled fists but halted in mid-reach when at least three voices shouted at him, “Don’t touch him!”
Calmly, Lillian explained, “If he has the ability to cloud actions and change perceptions, he could change you without you even knowing it.”
Caemon frowned over his shoulder but slowly lowered his hands to his sides.
Softly, as if they were the only two figures in the room, he spoke to Thomas. “Calm down. Deep breaths, lad. We’re not here to hurt you.”
Thomas looked up with his eyes partially hidden by bangs as he shook his head slightly.
“What?” asked Caemon in light surprise, speaking to him as if they were alone in the room, two friends playing a game. “You think we’d hurt such a fine lad like yourself?”
Thomas stayed silent.
Ciardis bit her lip and walked forward until she stood at Caemon’s side. She put a hand on her twin’s right shoulder and smiled at Thomas. “You were quite chatty at the ball, Thomas.”
He looked up at her and his lip twitched. In a grimace or a smile, she’d couldn’t quite say.
Looking from one twin to the other, he hesitantly opened his mouth and spoke. Well, he tried to speak. What came out was more of a croak than intelligible conversation.
“Could we have some water please, Mother?” Ciardis said over her shoulder. She would be nice as pie to Thomas if that would get him to calm down and cure Inga of her ailment.
“Of course,” Lillian said as she quickly went over the teacart and poured from the crystal pitcher.
“Thanar, could you untie him?” asked Caemon calmly. The daemoni came over without a word and cut the thick curtain ropes.
Walking over to her son and daughter, Lillian smoothly held out the glass to the boy. This presented a conundrum. Thomas was still trembling so harshly that grabbing the glass seemed impossible. But being faced with the simple choice actually seemed to calm him. He stopped shuddering and reached out a tentative hand for the glass.
“There,” said Lillian with a smile. Thomas flinched.
Ciardis watched him carefully. Lillian was on her very best behavior, but even that seemed to frighten the young man.
“Thank you, Mother,” she said firmly.
Lillian backed away to stand next to Kane.
“Now,” said Caemon, his eyes fixed on Thomas with curiosity. “Why don’t you tell us why you’re so frightened?”
Between sips of water, Thomas managed to stutter, “Not of you. Of my masters.”
“Your masters?” said Ciardis lightly.
“They told me they wanted the frost giant accused of murder. I was ordered to make her insane. And then I was to disappear,” he said miserably. “They’ll be furious that I was caught.”
“Why were you caught?” asked Thanar curiously. “You didn’t even attempt to hide your magic.”
Thomas hunched his shoulders further. “I didn’t know the Weathervane was here.”
A derisive snort came from Vana at that moment.
“Meaning what?” asked Ciardis.
“Meaning,” said Vana, “that he forgot that you can read power signals in auras. Most mages can’t or don’t look for it. Drives us nuts.”
“Oh,” said Ciardis. “And why target us? Who are your masters?”
Thomas looked up at her and over at Vana. The ever-present blade in her hand probably convinced him to give them the truth. He swallowed heavily and spoke. “I know they are members of the Shadow Council. But I don’t know who they are. They send me letters with instructions by messenger. Not often. Just occasionally.”
Caemon asked. “Who are the Shadow Council?”
“A dark and unsanctioned group that mete out justice throughout the empire on their own terms,” Ciardis said. “I only knew one member.”
“And who was that?” demanded Lillian from where she reclined on a chaise lounge.
Both twins turned to her as Ciardis responded hollowly, “The Head of the Companions’ Guild and Council, Maree Amber.”
Lillian narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “My, my. Lady Amber certainly was a busybody when she was alive.”
Ciardis’s eye twitched at her mother’s tone. “As you may recall, Mother, that busybody gave her life for me. And in the little time we had together, she did her best to train me so that my gifts were of use to me and those around me.”
“Yes,” said Lillian as she waved her hand dismissively. “But what I want to know is why. The Shadow Council has always had an ulterior motive. They are not in the habit of giving out charity and certainly not allowing their leaders to train orphaned waifs on a whim.”
Ciardis stiffened perceptibly. It was a conversation she would expect to have with Lady Serena, her former mentor who was her mother in disguise, but to hear her own mother describe her as an “orphaned waif” felt like a slap to the face.
Caemon quickly reached over and squeezed her wrist as if to reassure her. Sometimes Ciardis felt that he understood her much more than their mother ever could. Even though they’d only known of each other’s existence for less than a month.
“What are you saying, Mother?” Caemon asked quietly as Thomas looked back and forth anxiously between the faces of the three Weathervanes.
“I’m saying,” Lillian said as she rose from her reclining position leisurely, “that Lady Maree Amber wanted something. Something from Ciardis. Enough to take her under wing, enough to train her and perhaps to attempt to mold her.”
Uncomfortably Ciardis was reminded of the conversation between Lord Crassius and Lady Maree Amber just after the Companions’ Guild had convened a council in order to deride her actions at court and punish her for the sanctions placed on the guild by the
emperor.
She had stood before the five heads of the Companions’ Council, awaiting their verdict less than half a year before. The guild head had been ready to pronounce a verdict when the bejeweled buffoon with golden hair had stirred from his leisurely sprawl when he had heard her tirade against the imperial court, calling the nobles, as she recalled, “useless creatures who are arrogant, spineless, and think they know everything.”
Ciardis remembered quite clearly what Crassius had said, because it had taken her from hot water to a boiling pot quicker than she could bat an eyelash: “Untested power such as hers could be the spark that flames the court.”
She hadn’t been sure what the two scheming individuals had wanted, but she knew Lord Crassius had tested her for something. And he had not found her wanting.
After that chance meeting, Maree Amber had hastily reassigned Ciardis to her mentorship and care for the duration of their short-lived partnership.
Snapping back to the present, Ciardis turned sharp eyes to Thomas. “If the council wanted me harmed, why didn’t they just target me directly?”
“Good question,” Vana said.
“I just did as I was told,” said Thomas.
“Did you never think that by confusing someone’s very thoughts, their very emotions, that you might have lasting effects on the people around them?” Ciardis questioned.
Caemon was more direct. “Just because someone tells you to kill someone else doesn’t mean you do it. You resist. You fight.”
Thomas shook his head, almost crying. “Fight how? I was alone. I’m still alone and I always will be.”
Ciardis said, “And what were you told to do this time?”
Thomas grimaced. “Something dark. To manipulate the frost giantess’s emotions and memories. To make her see evil that wasn’t there.”
“They said that once I did that I would be done! My debt would be absolved!” Thomas cried out. “I just wanted to be free.”
“They lied to you,” said Thanar in disgust. “Once they had their claws in you, they were never going to give you your freedom.”
“B-but they promised,” whispered a defeated Thomas as he reached into his coat pocket to pull out a piece of parchment so crumbled it was as if he had read it over and over again only to fold it back and put it away once more.
“Here. See—it says so,” he said, holding out the unfolded note.
Ciardis took it reluctantly. When she read the smudged ink on the parchment she swallowed harshly and handed it to Vana. It read as Thomas had said. Clear and simple orders.
“Make the frost giant anger. Her fear directed at the soldier by her side.
Do not fail us and your reward shall be sent.”
There was no signature.
“I was supposed to burn it like all the others.”
Caemon stood up and said, “Is that all you have to say. To complain that you won’t get your payment? Kane almost died, and if we hadn’t gotten Inga out of there she would have been chained for a criminal act at best and executed on the spot at worst.”
Before Thomas could answer a loud knock sounded. Then the entrance to their meeting room opened. Instead of a servant, in walked the lord of the manor, Lord Richard Steadfast, the lord chamberlain to His Imperial Majesty. He looked haggard. His neckband was askew and his hair in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it multiple times. He cleared his throat when he saw the gathered group, tired eyes glazing over Inga and Thomas until he found Lillian’s curious gaze.
“We have a problem,” he said.
“Surely it’s something that can be solved in the morning?” she said while moving forward.
“You haven’t heard what it is.”
Irritation flashed across Lillian’s face. They were having an important meeting here. They hadn’t even gotten to Ciardis’s conversations with the emperor yet or their plans to cure Inga following the night’s heady events. Lillian waved an assenting hand while impatiently waiting for him to continue. To Ciardis it was a curious thing how her mother was beautiful and poised enough to flirt and manipulate at one o’clock in the morning. She would have shut the door in his face and stumped off to bed.
The lord chamberlain held out a missive. “I’ve received a letter from the emperor’s own secretary. He has summoned you to an imperial tribunal five days hence.”
Lillian took it with a shrug. “It’s of no consequence. You know this. They’ll blather for a few hours and then pronounce that I am to appear before the magistrate’s court three months from now.”
Lord Steadfast’s pale demeanor didn’t lighten in relief as Lillian seemed to expect.
He shook his head mutely. “This tribunal will be headed by the emperor himself. His judgment will be made on that day and the punishment meted out within the course of the meeting.”
Lillian paled and placed a shaky hand at her waist as her eyes darted to the letter clenched in her gloved hand. “That can’t be. It’s never been done that way.”
The sound of knocking came through the door.
“Who is that?” asked Vana in exasperation.
The lord chamberlain turned to see that his head footman now stood at the entrance to the parlor. “Well?” demanded the lord chamberlain irascibly.
The man stepped forward, undaunted—to his credit—and said, “Ambassador Sedaris of Sahalia has come to await upon Lady Ciardis Weathervane’s attendance.”
“What?” said Lord Steadfast, aghast. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”
Lillian stumbled back. “Did you say Ambassador of Sahalia?” Her voice shook. It was the first time Ciardis had ever seen her mother unsteady.
“Yes, milady,” replied the footman.
“Whoever he is,” said Caemon firmly, “he’ll just have to come back at a proper time.”
“She,” whispered Ciardis in dismay. She hadn’t seen the female ambassador since the day she had attended the courtyard ball hosted by the duke of Carne. The duchess of Carne had then tried to kill her the same night and the ambassador had almost killed the duchess in retaliation.
The servant looked to the lord chamberlain. When he nodded at him to dismiss the ambassador from his doorstep, the man walked out of the parlor to convey his master’s sincerest apologies. They all heard the flurry of voices through the parlor paneling next to the front door. Then the footman announced. “The master’s guests have retired for the night. They are no longer taking visitors.” More voices erupted with what sounded like a snarl and the sound of flesh meeting the harsh marble floor seconds later.
It wasn’t the footman that returned to the parlor.
“I’m afraid that doesn’t suit me,” said Ambassador Sedaris as she walked into the parlor in a ball gown. The footman came in right after exclaiming, “I’m sorry my lord, she-“
A hiss from the mouth of the ambassador stopped him cold. It wasn’t the hiss of a woman trying to get attention, but the hiss of an angry dragon before it strikes. The man gulped as he fell back.
The ambassador, clothed in a beautiful off-the-shoulder silver gown and hand mask, walked forward. Spying Ciardis, she made her way toward her. Lillian squared her shoulders and stepped firmly in her path. “I don’t know who you are. But I do know dragon kind. You are not welcome here. You are not welcome in my daughter’s life.”
“I had heard that the fabled Weathervane who murdered that human empress had returned. I’m surprised you yet live. If my empress’s mate had been killed, she would have eaten the aggressor,” the ambassador said, displaying teeth that were decidedly sharper than those of a human’s bland smile.
Ciardis turned queasy at the depiction.
“But,” said the ambassador with a strange glint in her eye, “it is also my pleasure to meet the human woman who enchanted my predecessor so.”
Lillian narrowed her eyes. “Get. Out.”
“Careful, Weathervane,” the ambassador said. “You need my help.”
Lillian laughed sharply. “And what would ca
use such a fuss that I would need a dragon’s help in the middle of the night?”
The ambassador gave a brittle smile. “Surely you know that the Shadow Council wants you and all who stand with you dead.”
Lillian rolled her eyes. “Old news.”
Ciardis almost smiled at the prowess her mother displayed by casually brushing off something they had learned only moments before.
“And they’ve hired another of my kind to do it.”
An abrupt silence reigned. That was not good.
Chapter 8
“By the gods’ own luck,” said Kane as he slumped back to sit on the parlor chaise where Inga rested unconscious. The lower half of her body kept falling off the end of the chaise because her legs were so long.
“Just to be clear,” the Lord Steadfast said, “when you say your kind...”
His voice was pleading for her to say she meant a tall, willowy female with auburn hair and a temper to match.
The ambassador wasn’t feeling so kindly. “Another dragon.”
The man paled and said, “Oh dear, that’s what I thought you meant.” Looking around, the lord chamberlain went to the corner tea set. Except he didn’t seem to want any tea as he fumbled with pots, spices, and flavor decanters. With dismay, he gave up searching for whatever it was he was looking for and then he stuck his head out the door. “Maid, bring the whiskey!”
He turned and looked back at the surrounding group. Cursing, he stuck his head back out the door again. “And the rum!” The maid came running so fast with the bottles in hand that she ran into the lord himself. He grabbed both of the crystal bottles full of liquor from her, turned around, and kicked the door shut in her face.
Moving back to the tea set, Lord Steadfast poured his first shot into a porcelain cup and said, “Anyone else?”
A chorus of murmurs answered him in agreement.
Ciardis settled for tea.
Shakily, Lillian asked over her double shot, “Who has put out the hit?”
