“Once I arrange the meeting with Therbalt, what do I do?”
“You head toward the house we’ve staked out, but when we give you the signal that you’re not being followed, you change direction and run home here as fast as you can. Then wait for us.”
“Is that all?” She was both relieved and dismayed to have such a small role and to have to go against Menders’ request that she stay within sight of Kaymar or Ifor at all times.
“That’s more than enough,” Kaymar answered. “He will come to the garden here, where he sees me dressed exactly as you were. Ifor will be with me, in hiding, and together - the end of Therbalt.”
Ifor nodded.
“He’s ours and the deed is done. We go out through the house, to our carriage at the front. A gentleman and lady are seen leaving a nice townhouse, with a large trunk. There’s nothing suspicious about that, is there?” Kaymar continued.
“We pick you up here, head for the boat, then back to the Shadows,” Ifor added.
Eiren nodded slowly. “And Therbalt?” she asked, almost fearing the answer.
“We feed the fish on the way home,” Ifor said.
Eiren thought it through. They’d covered everything. It all seemed so simple, really.
“Shouldn’t I be there with you? To help?”
“No!” the two men exclaimed in unison.
“Too dangerous,” Kaymar pronounced. “If anything happened to either me or Ifor, Menders would grieve…”
“But if anything happened to you, even a scratch, he’d never forgive himself, or us.” Ifor finished for him. He sat back and lit one of his brandy-cured cigars.
“Eiren, despite your brave heart, you’re a schoolteacher and should stay that way. This sort of bloody business is what Ifor and I do,” Kaymar said gently.
“I see,” Eiren whispered. She listened to the parlor clock ticking away as tendrils of smoke from Ifor’s cigar writhed toward the ceiling.
“What should I do if you don’t come for me?” She looked up to hold their gazes with her own. “If something happens?”
Ifor reached across the table and gently covered her hands with his. “If we don’t come by midnight, then you get a cab to the boat dock. Haakel will be there with the boat ready to go. He can take you back to the Shadows.”
“We’ll leave a dossier with you that explains everything,” Kaymar said, his voice soft and colorless. “For Menders.”
Eiren nodded, and swallowed hard. Ifor looked deep into her eyes. “You must promise us you will do this.”
“Yes, you must,” Kaymar said, placing his hands atop theirs in the centre of the table.
“I promise,” Eiren whispered.
“Well then, that’s settled” Kaymar said, suddenly bright and cheerful again. “So come now, sister dear, let us go and begin our preparations.”
They released one another’s hands and rose.
***
Eiren walked along the quiet dark street, willing her legs not to tremble and her stomach not to turn over. She’d given Therbalt the address where she would hand over the notebook, her nervous anxiety making her performance all the more convincing. He would be here in half an hour.
Ifor coalesced from a shadow and came to her. “It’s all clear,” he whispered. “No one followed you. Run along home, and wait for us.”
“Where’s Kaymar?” she whispered back.
“In place. I must get in my own position. I’m sorry we can’t escort you home. Menders insisted we never leave you, but…” His big shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “We can’t be everywhere.”
“I’ll be fine,” Eiren insisted. “But please, hurry back.”
“See you soon,” Ifor replied as he melted into darkness again. His dusky clothing made him almost invisible.
Despite gnawing anxiety, Eiren felt a strange elation, an almost perverse thrill, and knew that she could make a career of this sort of work if she had to. The only thing that concerned her about killing someone like Therbalt was that the concept didn’t bother her as much as she felt it should.
She hurried on. She wasn’t worried about going home alone; she was armed to the teeth. Ifor had cleaned and loaded her pistol, showing her how to wear a sash around her waist with the pistol tucked into it, in easy reach. Her wickedly sharp knife, the one Menders had made for her, was sheathed securely to her thigh, the handle accessible through a slit in her skirt. The knife gave her strength – she felt Menders was with her when she wore it.
“Gods forbid some drunken sailor comes tottering out of an alley and decides to give the pretty girlie a kiss,” Kaymar had joked. She’d laughed in spite of her fear.
Eiren paused some blocks from the rendezvous address but many more from home. It didn’t feel right to be going to safety without Kaymar and Ifor. A nagging presentiment she couldn’t name and didn’t want to analyze immobilized her.
She felt she wanted to – needed to be there, with the two men who had protected her more out of love than duty. She couldn’t sit at home and wait for them, not knowing what was happening to them.
Eiren turned around and started back.
***
Eiren had studied the map in detail until she knew the layout of the “borrowed” property by heart. Therbalt would enter by the large gate behind the house to find Kaymar, dressed as Eiren, by the large sundial in the centre of the garden. Ifor would be in hiding a few feet away, behind the curved archways that supported the balcony overlooking the yard. There was a smaller entrance from a narrow side passage, hidden by a rose trellis. Eiren used this to slip silently into the courtyard, which was dimly lit from a single lamp post outside the wall.
The house was dark. Keeping to the shadows with her shawl drawn around her, she eased along the wall to the first of the archways.
How strange to see myself replicated in detail like this, she thought, watching Kaymar strolling among the flowerbeds, holding a notebook. To Eiren’s surprise, what appeared to be a shadow beside her shifted. Ifor’s voice, so low that she barely recognized it, said, “What the hells are you doing here?”
Eiren gave herself credit for not starting, shrieking or even gasping in surprise.
“I… thought I might help?” she ventured.
The shadow that was Ifor stood unmoving, but she imagined him looking at her with serious eyes. She knew he would not be angry, just saddened that she had not kept to the plan.
“Menders will have our guts.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just had to.”
“Then don’t get in the way.” His tone was resolved. There would be no argument, not now. There was no time.
Nodding, Eiren shifted her position slightly, her foot striking something. Looking down, she could just make out two large wooden pails, filled with water.
“What’s the water for?” Eiren whispered.
“For the blood,” came Ifor’s level reply. “Hush now.”
Therbalt walked through the gates, bowed to Kaymar and then moved close. Eiren could only see their silhouettes against the light from the lamppost in the street.
There were murmurs. For a moment Eiren felt as if time stood still. Then the peaceful garden erupted.
Eiren saw Kaymar’s knife as a shard of silver light, slashing in an arc. He took Therbalt to the ground with one blow. Ifor erupted from the shadows and fell on Therbalt as well, metal flashing in his hand. It was over so quickly, almost too easily. Eiren stepped forward, instinct moving her hand to the hilt of her own knife.
Ifor rose and fetched a darkened lantern. He flicked it open, illuminating Therbalt’s face.
“Fuck me! That isn’t him!” Kaymar gasped, crouching by the body. Eiren rushed forward.
It was the same clothing, the long loops of oiled hair, the huge hat, the rings and reeking perfume, but it wasn’t Therbalt. The man was older, heavier, with a lined face.
Time froze as the three of them stared at one another.
From a darkened corner, shadows coalesced into new form, moving fast.
<
br /> A man rushed at them, jabbing a knife into Ifor as Kaymar struggled to rise, tripping over the long skirt he wore. Ifor grunted and fell as the assailant turned, then paused, confronted by the image of two Eirens, not knowing where to strike.
In the light of the lantern, Eiren recognized Therbalt instantly. Her knife scythed in a lethal arc. Only Therbalt’s reflexes saved him from being decapitated as Eiren’s blade sliced and left him with a gaping slash that ran from his left ear into the corner of his mouth.
He fell back, horror and shock in his eyes, emitting a high wailing shriek. Clutching his face, he turned and fled through the courtyard gate toward the street. Kaymar leapt into pursuit, tearing at the encumbering skirt to free his legs.
“See to Bear!” he yelled, then was gone.
Eiren fell to her knees beside Ifor and opened the lantern all the way.
“Oh my Gods, no!” Eiren gasped at the sight of his blood sodden shirt.
“It’s all right,” Ifor soothed her. “Bad but not fatal. You wounded him?”
She nodded, amazed at Ifor’s calmness.
“Kip will finish it. I owe you my life,” he said softly as she helped him sit up. The wound was in his shoulder, too high for his lungs, not enough blood for a major blood vessel to be involved – but enough to endanger his life if the bleeding wasn’t stopped soon.
Sudden yells, panicked screams and shots were audible in the distance.
Eiren was helping Ifor to the house just as Kaymar ran back into the garden, his dress ripped and bespattered with blood. He looked like he’d fallen into a threshing machine, sporting multiple slashes and what were going to be impressive bruises.
“Bastard had a whole contingent of thugs waiting. They closed in on me,” he groused, shucking off the dress and standing there in his contrived-bust undergarments, inspecting Ifor’s wound.
“A lot of them won’t be going home tonight, that’s for sure. Bastards.” He turned to Eiren sternly. “And as for you, my dear, just what got into your pretty head to come back here? Kaymar’s eyes were very sinister as he stared at Eiren. Then they lit up with their usual mischievous brightness. He added, “But I am so glad you did. I think you saved us both.”
Eiren blushed as Ifor staggered to his feet, wincing against the pain. “Later, Kip. We need to be going.”
It took all three of them to bundle the body of the unknown slain man into a travelling trunk, haul it outside and hoist it up into the carriage. Before long, all was as before. They drove away into the night, comforted by the knowledge that though they had missed Therbalt, he would be frightened away for a while.
And marked for life, thanks to Eiren.
***
“You did what?” Menders roared.
“We did what needed to be done,” Kaymar answered heatedly. He was weathering the storm of Menders’ wrath alone. Ifor was upstairs, being tended by Doctor Franz. “We did what you would have done yourself.”
“You stupid bastards!” Menders yelled, glaring across his desk at Kaymar. “I send you over there to protect her, and you do your damndest to get her killed? You bastards!”
“Oh shut up,” Kaymar snapped. He eased down into the chair opposite Menders’ desk, suddenly weary. The trip back had been rough, the boat moving at full throttle, tossed by running seas. His own wounds and trying to tend to Ifor’s on the heaving boat had taxed his strength completely.
Menders leaned forward on his arms, glaring savagely across his desk at Kaymar.
“The fact of it is, if Eiren hadn’t done what she did, you’d be digging graves for Ifor and me right now. We were royally had by that bastard Therbalt and if she hadn’t… she saved us. She damned near got him, too!”
“That’s beside the point!” Menders shouted.
“No, the point is you’re pissed off because we did what you would like to have done instead of being stuck here guarding Katrin and feeling powerless!” Kaymar’s voice rose to a fevered pitch.
“Eiren could have been hurt!”
“Well she damn well wasn’t!” Kaymar yelled, his temper fraying. “Ifor was. Eiren is not your little schoolteacher any more, Menders. She acted as you trained her, with courage and decisiveness. She’s a damned fine woman, brave as they come and you should be bloody well proud of her, not standing there berating me for trying to do your work for you!”
Menders opened his mouth. Then closed it.
“I… I am proud of her,” he admitted. “Of course I am.”
“Good!” Kaymar hissed, pushing himself up from the seat with shaking arms. “See that you tell her so. Now, if you don’t mind, Ifor’s hurt and I must see to him, and as for me, well in case you were yelling so hard you didn’t notice, I don’t feel so good either. Excuse me.”
He left Menders standing there, dumbfounded.
***
Eiren began unpacking her bag, hanging the clothing in her wardrobe. There wasn’t much. Most of her things had been left behind, as she intended to return to Erdhan. Her bloody clothes had been sent to the laundry and she’d changed into a nightgown.
Word of their exploits was spread through The Shadows. Ifor’s injury raised a stir, as did the story that Eiren had ‘bloodied her blade’, the assassins’ term for being tested in combat. That gave her a sense of pride, as she knew she could now walk into the Men’s Wing at any time and be accepted as one of them.
Menders came in quietly, closed the door and stood leaning against it, his hands behind him. Eiren smiled at him and went on unpacking.
He watched her silently for a time.
“Franz says Ifor will make a full recovery,” he finally said.
“’Bad but not fatal’ were the first words Ifor said to me at the time. So I knew he’d be all right.”
“Yes, quite.” Menders’ reaction seemed controlled and Eiren wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. Would it be a painful reminder of the fact that she had been there while he had not?
Eiren finally sat on the end of the bed, folding her hands in her lap, sighing.
“I expect we need to have this out?” she said. He nodded very slightly. “I expect there will be a fair amount of shouting and so on.”
“No,” Menders replied, quite calmly. He sat on the end of the bed, close beside her. “No… I think I’ve done enough shouting for one night.”
“Good.” Eiren reached across and put her hand on his. “I know what I did made you angry. I didn’t do what you asked of me, and for that I’m sorry. But the truth is, I saw a chance to help, not just Kaymar and Ifor but you, Katrin, everyone. I do beg your forgiveness but in all honesty, should a situation like that arise again, I will not sit on my hands and do nothing!”
Menders turned to her, took her hands in his and held them firmly. “I’m very, very proud of you, my dear. Very proud,” he said. Eiren was taken aback. It wasn’t what she expected to hear at this point.
“Why, thank you,” she responded meekly.
“Let me help you clear this bed,” he whispered gently. “You’re done in and need to sleep.”
Eiren had thought she would never sleep again after slashing Therbalt’s face, but found she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to slip under the covers.
***
Eiren woke and knew from the light that it was many hours later, close to sunrise. The room was now cozily warm. She turned and saw that Menders was sitting in the big armchair by the stove, watching her. He had the window shaded against the dawn light and wore his clear glasses. His white eyes seemed to glow a bit in the dimness.
He held out his arms to her with a smile. She went to him, folding herself into his lap with her head on his shoulder, his arms around her. He tucked her long nightgown gently over her feet.
“There’s my Little Bird.”
Remembering Therbalt calling her that, Eiren shivered involuntarily.
“What?” Menders asked.
“Therbalt called me that once. It terrified me until I realized that he couldn’t
know it’s your name for me,” she replied.
“Ah. No, he couldn’t have known. There’s a way you move your head at times while looking up at a fellow that is very reminiscent of a dear little bird. If you like, I won’t call you that anymore.”
“Don’t you dare stop! I’m not silly,” she smiled. He chuckled a little and cuddled her even closer.
“I’ve debriefed your fellow warriors and examined the body,” he said. “Our mystery is solved. That was Lord Vannik. I’ve had a message from Bartan with some very interesting information he’s just discovered. It turns out that Vannik’s been behind this plot to remove Katrin. This Therbalt character is his protégé.
“Vannik’s motives weren’t purely political. He was sadistic and spiteful, and this Therbalt was a faithful pupil of his. Vannik had an incredible network, has manipulated things around the world for years, and no doubt Therbalt will inherit this operation. You placed yourself in terrible danger, my love. Those men had every intention of killing you once you turned over what they wanted.”
“Menders, if I hadn’t done what I did, we’d still be playing cat and mouse with Therbalt,” Eiren said heatedly. “I only wish I’d cut his head off instead of slicing his greasy face.”
“I know. I know, don’t upset yourself. I’m proud of you. You have been incredibly brave and selfless.”
“They want to kill my Katrin – and they want to kill you too. What else could I have done?”
Menders settled her head against his shoulder. After a short silence, he said “There is something more for us to talk about. Kaymar told me that you know who I am.”
“Yes. I know that you were Lord Stettan and that you were a very successful assassin before you came here.” Eiren could feel tension in him, and stroked his hair.
“I’m still Lord Stettan. I don’t use the title, of course. I’m not proud of my family and don’t relish the connection. I’ve used the name Menders since military school. I couldn’t be a spy, because my eyes and the glasses make it impossible for me to disguise myself effectively, so I was strictly an assassin. I was a good assassin, Eiren. I was the best and no-one has exceeded me yet, though Kaymar came close during his service.”
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 67
