The Ouroboros Cycle, Book Three: A Long-Awaited Treachery

by G. D. Falksen

  Vaclav’s mouth tightened with worry as he said, “Zabel, Magnus, and Amadeus also went to find stores. The lower pantry in the north wing....”

  Joan exchanged a look with Djata and grabbed her sword.

  “We must go to warn them,” she said. “Or to relieve them, if it is too late.”

  “The gallery with the Frankish antiquities is empty this time of day,” Djata said. “It is nearby and also away from where we were ambushed. It should be a safe route.”

  “It is the best we can hope for,” Joan agreed. She nodded at Djata’s arm. “Can you use your bow?”

  Djata flexed his wounded arm and grimaced, less with pain than with annoyance—for at his age, pain was an afterthought to the Living. Though the bone showed in places, enough flesh had regrown that it could move, though only poorly.

  “Not for a few hours more,” he said, “barring a hearty meal before then.”

  “Exchange with me,” Joan told him, offering her sword and taking the bow and arrows.

  “We should separate,” Vaclav said. “Four are easier to spot than two.”

  Djata nodded in agreement. He pointed toward the corner of the closet and said, “There is a passage behind that paneling. It should lead you a few hundred feet to the north.”

  “I remember it,” Vaclav answered. “The Doctor and I will meet you at the storeroom. God willing, there is no trap and we have all worried for naught.”

  “God willing,” Joan agreed, “though He has been so unwilling these past days, I cannot imagine that it will change just for our convenience.”

  * * * *

  Varanus followed Vaclav into the passage, which descended several uncomfortably steep steps before continuing on. The passage was dark, as was to be expected, but here and there a fragment of light shone in through cracks in the masonry. It was enough to navigate by; besides, there was no way to go but forward.

  They were inside part of the keep’s walls, and the way was narrow. Varanus had only a little difficulty slipping through, but Vaclav was forced to shuffle along sideways. Every few dozen feet, they passed adjoining rooms, sometimes sealed up with stone or brick and sometimes simply with wood. Had they cared to break out of the passage, it would have been a simple enough thing, but the tunnel’s anonymity was far more important. With it, they could bypass much of the castle.

  As they continued along, Varanus suddenly heard voices speaking from the other side of a wooden wall. She would have thought little of it, but she recognized the principle speaker as Margaret the Hebridean. Vaclav recognized the voice as well, and he stopped to listen. Varanus found a narrow gap in the boards, and she peered into the room to get a look.

  She saw Margaret, Thoros, Iese, and Caroline standing together in a moth-eaten parlor. The room had clearly seen little use, though Varanus could not say whether the conspirators had simply come upon it for their most recent conversation or had appropriated it as a meeting place in the wake of the coup.

  “There is no cause for concern, Iese,” Margaret said, her tone calm and authoritative.

  “No cause for concern?” replied Iese. “This is a shambles! Our forces are being slaughtered in our own fortress! Almost two weeks and we have yet to run these mongrels to ground!”

  “All in due time—”

  “And worse,” Caroline interjected, “Zawditu’s army sits comfortably encamped across the river, and we do nothing to stop them! We should ride out against them now while we still have the chance!”

  Thoros, who seemed only half interested in the argument, merely said, “We cannot attack our enemies in a fortified position while they still have agents here ready to strike at our back.”

  Having spoken his piece, Thoros returned to his business, which seemed to be a nonchalant walk around the circumference of the room, idly examining the furniture and dusty objects that filled it.

  “As Thoros says, we can do nothing until Reza and his followers are rooted out!” Iese snapped. “And every day they pass alive is another list of casualties and stolen supplies!”

  “If we were not forced to keep the gates and walls fortified against Zawditu and Philippa, we would have enough soldiers to hunt down anyone still hiding in the castle!” Caroline replied. “Our only option is to move against the town and slaughter Zawditu’s forces!” She pointed an accusing finger at Iese. “With the outside threat destroyed, Reza’s followers will fall to despair and surrender.”

  “That is nonsense—” Iese began.

  “Silence,” Margaret said.

  She did not raise her voice, but she spoke forcefully enough to be heard. Iese and Caroline suddenly fell silent and looked at her, their expressions now tinged with fear.

  “Good,” Margaret continued. She smiled and placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Caroline, they are correct: until we have hunted down the enemies lurking among us, we cannot risk sending our army against Zawditu’s position.” She looked at Iese and took him by the arm, mirroring her hold on Caroline. “But do not fret so. It is...unbecoming.” Margaret bared her teeth as she said the word. “The ones who stalk us from the shadows are dying, if only slowly. They have little food and are poorly armed. And now that we have properly secured the supplies, they will starve and succumb. We have laid our traps, we are learning their movements, and soon enough we will find their hiding places. They will not last the month, I assure you.”

  Behind the wall, Varanus frowned. She glanced up at Vaclav and saw that his expression was the same. Margaret was correct. No matter how hard they fought, without outside relief, it was only a matter of time before they were either lost to starvation or their hiding place was discovered.

  “And do not forget, dear Caroline,” Margaret continued, suddenly clenching her hand around Caroline’s arm, “it was your cult that failed me.”

  Caroline gasped in pain and struggled to pull away from Margaret, but Margaret would not allow it. She continued to squeeze until it seemed the bone might break, and Caroline slowly contorted as even her Living flesh could not ignore the pain.

  “It was not my fault!” Caroline protested. “I did all that I was meant to do!”

  “Yes,” Margaret agreed, leaning over her, “you identified those who were susceptible to fanaticism and revealed yourself as the Virgin Mary. You stoked the fires of madness in their hearts and made them ready to make war upon the Shashavani. What a pity they did not wait as they had been instructed!”

  Margaret released Caroline and threw her to the ground, now shouting, “If your cultists had been properly commanded, they would now be massing in town, in the very midst of Zawditu’s camp, ready to destroy their supplies and shelter and to commit wild acts of violence. And had they done that, we would not now be waiting here, relying on the cold and on hunger to sap the strength of Zawditu’s army. Instead, I am left to wait for the winter to carry out that task. Oh, we shall move against them, Caroline; but thanks to your failure, I shall have to wait a month or more before weakness has set in.”

  “We do not have that much time,” Iese protested. “The Winter King expects—”

  “I know what the Winter King expects!” Margaret snapped, taking Iese by the throat. “I mean for everything to be perfect and in order when our master arrives to assume the throne. And to that end, Iese, I have given you the task of pacifying the House, and as yet you have failed!”

  Thoros laughed at this and returned to the conversation, placing his back to Varanus and Vaclav.

  “Consider that, Iese,” Thoros said. “Your task was pacification, and yet I thought of lying in ambush.” He looked at Margaret and added, “Perhaps, Eristavi, the task of pacification should be mine instead.”

  Margaret sneered and released Iese, who fell into a heap beside Caroline. Turning, Margaret advanced on Thoros and replied:

  “Pacification, Thoros? Do not forget that I must have a living, functioning House
of Shashava to hand over to our master. I know what you did that first day, Thoros. I know that when you were supposed to be rounding up prisoners so they might swear their allegiance, you were slaughtering them! My subjects! That sort of thing causes unrest, you know.”

  Thoros did not react with the same fear as Iese and Caroline, but he did quickly temper his tone and drew back a pace.

  “It was concealed,” he said. “It was blamed on our enemies.”

  “It was contrary to my orders, Thoros,” Margaret answered. “I do not tolerate disobedience and neither does the Winter King!” She turned her gaze toward Iese and Caroline. “Nor do either of us tolerate failure! So pick yourselves up and start making yourselves useful!”

  In the darkness behind the wall, Varanus frowned. She looked up at Vaclav and whispered, “Margaret is not the Winter King.”

  “No,” agreed Vaclav. “I had assumed she was, but now.... Clearly she serves some greater power, one that has not yet arrived from the wilderness.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  •

  Varanus pressed her face against the boards of the wall and watched Margaret and her conspirators as they continued to speak, now in calmer tones. Thoros remained at the back of the room, polishing his sword as he only halfheartedly listened to the conversation.

  “It seems he becomes bored when not engaged in needless slaughter,” Korbinian observed.

  “So it seems,” Varanus agreed softly.

  A moment later, she cringed at having spoken. She did not fear Thoros hearing her, despite how close he stood: she spoke softly, and the noise of Margaret ranting surely drowned her out. But what if...?

  “What was that?” Vaclav whispered, looking at her.

  “I...nothing,” Varanus quickly replied. “It seems Thoros becomes bored when not engaged in needless slaughter.”

  “You make a habit of talking to yourself, Doctor,” Vaclav said, looking back through the slits in the wall. “I hope it is nothing serious.”

  “One time hardly makes a habit, Father Vaclav.”

  “No,” Vaclav agreed, “but a dozen...?”

  Varanus felt the blood drain from her face. A dozen times? Had Vaclav heard her speaking to Korbinian a dozen times? He must think her mad!

  “I—”

  Vaclav quickly laid a hand on Varanus’s shoulder and whispered, “Do not think that an accusation, Doctor. It is not. I trust you and your sanity more than any other, certainly right now. But when we return to the chapel....” He smiled in a fatherly manner. “If there is something that weighs upon you, something you might find relief in discussing.... Well, I was a priest. I consider myself very good at listening.”

  Varanus thought about the offer and smiled, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Father Vaclav,” she said ambiguously. “I will consider it.”

  She might accept the offer to unburden herself, or she might not. She would have to ask Korbinian about it first; to do otherwise would be extremely rude. But the offer certainly was kind.

  “Now then,” Margaret said, folding her hands in front of her, “if we have all regained our senses, there is a matter of festivities to discuss.”

  Iese drew back slightly, eyeing Caroline, who still sat on the floor, clutching her broken arm.

  “Festivities?” he asked.

  “Festivities,” Margaret repeated. She paused a moment and said, “Oh, Caroline, do get up. You are embarrassing yourself whimpering like that.”

  Caroline’s mouth twitched and she quickly stood. “Forgive me,” she said, holding her head up and setting her mouth against the pain. “A momentary lapse.”

  “Good,” Margaret said, gently patting Caroline’s cheek. “Yes, festivities. As you know, while Sophio reigned, she held a regular feast for the whole of the Shashavani Order to remind us that we were all part of one community...a family, if you will. And now that she is gone, never to return, I believe it would be wise to revive the practice. It will give our loyal followers a sense of continuity and order. And as it will be Christmas in two days, I can think of no better occasion for such merriment.”

  “I still question whether your subjects are as loyal as you believe,” Thoros said. He paused for a moment and sniffed the air. Perhaps the musty room troubled him. “They obey because of our strength, not because of their goodwill.”

  “True,” Margaret said, “and that is all the more reason to reassure them that I am the rightful Eristavi. The rank and file of the Order desire calm and normalcy. I will give that to them.” She folded her arms and locked eyes with Thoros. “Or are you questioning my judgment?”

  Thoros quickly looked down and replied, “No, Eristavi.”

  “Good.” Margaret clapped her hands. “So, in two days we will bring the whole of the House to the Great Hall and grant them a feast.” She looked at Iese and added, “And if someone carries out the task appointed him and roots out the vermin plaguing us, then perhaps we shall have some public beheadings as well! Won’t that be a pleasant Christmas entertainment?”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Iese replied, looking away nervously.

  Margaret turned as the door opened to reveal a young woman—the executioner who had murdered Marie of Toulouse—in the company of several more soldiers.

  “Ah, Fairfax, what is it?” Margaret asked, her tone beginning as a question and ending as an irritated demand.

  Fairfax bowed to Margaret and replied, “News, My Lady. The trap has sprung.”

  “And?”

  “Our forces encountered two groups, My Lady,” Fairfax said. “One was ambushed by Alexios of Anatolia and, after sustaining injuries, was able to escape.”

  “Damnation,” Margaret swore.

  “The second was met by forces under Jan of Holland,” Fairfax continued, “who has cornered them near the Moravian Hall in the north wing. They are putting up a hard fight, but there are only three. They will fall soon enough.”

  “Splendid!” Margaret exclaimed. “Go with all speed, Fairfax, and bring these dogs to heel. I want them captured and questioned.” She turned to Caroline and smiled at her. “Caroline will accompany you and carry out the interrogations. She is eager to regain my approval, aren’t you Caroline?”

  “Yes, Eristavi,” Caroline said quickly.

  “Do whatever you must,” Margaret instructed. “I want to know where our enemies are hiding. Executions, Caroline!” She reminded. “Executions in time for Christmas!”

  Caroline nodded, looking as cheerful as she could manage. But she was afraid and could not hide it completely.

  “Well?” she snapped at Fairfax. “Don’t stand there gawking! Take me to the prisoners!”

  “They are not prisoners yet, My Lady,” Fairfax answered, her tone dull and annoyed.

  “They had better be so when I arrive,” Caroline warned.

  “Of course,” Fairfax said. She motioned toward the door. “This way, My Lady.”

  When they had gone, Margaret turned to Iese and said, “It seems you may have just received a reprieve, Iese. Though if Caroline learns the whereabouts of these mongrels before you do, I shall be sorely disappointed.”

  Iese stiffened. “Whether she discovers their location, I will be the one to hunt them down, Eristavi. I swear to you.”

  “Good,” Margaret said.

  “We must hurry,” Vaclav murmured. “We have to rescue Magnus and his comrades before they are killed or captured. Djata and Joan will need our help. It sounds as if they will be facing an army.”

  Varanus nodded. “Agreed.”

  She and Vaclav began to shuffle further down the passage, but suddenly Thoros sniffed the air again and glanced over his shoulder in their direction. Both of them froze in place, afraid that he might have heard them.

  “Do you smell...gunpowder?” Thoros asked.

  Margaret hurried to his side and sniffed the air.
>
  “No,” she said, “but I do smell....” She smiled. “Blood.” She advanced toward the wall with a hand outstretched. “There is someone in the wall....”

  “We should run,” Vaclav said.

  “Very sensible,” Varanus agreed.

  Varanus bolted down the passage behind Vaclav, moving toward the north wing. A few moments later, the wooden paneling of the wall smashed apart as Thoros forced his way into the passage. He grinned at the sight of them.

  “Well, well, well,” he called after them as he gave chase, all but clawing his way between the narrow walls. “We have rats in the walls.... Run, run, run little rats! I will catch you all the same!”

  * * * *

  The passage continued on in darkness for several hundred feet. Varanus and Vaclav fled as quickly as the tight confines would allow. Varanus could hear Thoros following some distance behind, struggling even more than Vaclav, his armor catching on every obstruction it brushed against.

  More than once, Varanus felt an urge to turn back and meet Thoros head-on, but she knew better than to risk it. Even restricted by the close quarters, Thoros had the advantage of strength and age. Attacking him directly was likely suicidal.

  Finally, they reached the door at the end of the passage. It opened into a small storeroom in the north wing, which had, of course, been looted by Margaret’s forces early during the coup. At first the door did not open, but Vaclav struck it again and again with his shoulder until it finally gave way. Forcing an opening, Vaclav pushed his way out and helped Varanus through the opening.

  “Where do we go?” Varanus asked as they ran into a nearby hall. “To find Magnus?”

  “Not until we have escaped,” Vaclav replied. “I pray that Djata and Joan will be able to manage whomever has been sent to take them, but I would not tempt fate by bringing an old warrior like Thoros to the battle.”

  “Perhaps we can divert their forces,” Varanus suggested, “if they join Thoros in chasing us.”

  “That is my hope.”