Death of the Immortal King

by Sarah McCarthy

  Elaine couldn’t follow what they were saying, and she barely noticed as they took her bronze crest. The crowd was silent.

  Gilmurry hustled her back down the stairs, through the crowd, and marched her a few streets away. He pushed her into an alley, leaving the callers behind, and thrust something into her hands.

  “I’m sorry. Don’t come see me,” he said roughly, and then he was gone.

  Elaine looked down and saw a leather purse in her hands. She opened it and saw it was filled with silver pieces. She leaned against the dirty wall of the alley, slowly sliding down it until she sat on the filthy wet cobblestones. Then she started to shake. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to hold herself still as her body trembled. Her mind had become strangely clear. She needed to get home.

  The shaking hadn’t stopped, but she pushed herself up. She had to get home.

  Walking felt good. Having a plan felt good. She walked more and more quickly, finally breaking into a run, but when she reached High Street she saw several members of the watch still milling around outside her home. She pulled back, crouching down and shaking again. But they wouldn’t have let her go just to arrest her again. She straightened, took a deep breath, and approached.

  The closest member of the watch turned, placing one hand on his sword and lifting the other.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I need to collect my things.”

  “This belongs to clan Connoly.” He took a step towards her. He had no clan crest, either. She’d never noticed that before.

  “I just…I need to get… my cloak and....”

  Some of the other guards came to join him. Their lips curled with contempt, and Elaine took a step back.

  “You’ve got nothing anymore, huh?” one of them jeered. “Maybe you should come with us. We’ll take care of you.”

  She took another step back but bumped into another who’d come around behind her without her noticing, a lecherous smirk on his face.

  She stepped away. “Never mind, I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

  She tried to get out the way, but they were in a circle around her now, slowly tightening. She spun around, kicked one of the men in the balls, and sprinted up the road.

  She could hear them shouting behind her, but she didn’t turn around. Adrenaline coursed through her; her arms pumped, her legs pounded, and she shot around a corner. People stared as she ran, but she didn’t stop. She turned down another side street and ran and ran, dodging down another alley and crouching behind a pile of trash. She didn’t even notice the rank smell as she crouched there, her breath heaving in her chest, straining to hear any sounds of pursuit. She waited, barely noticing as it started to rain, but no one was coming.

  She started to shake again, and for a few moments she watched herself with a dazed sense of curiosity. Her father was dead. She had no home. She had some money. How much money? She opened the bag and counted. Fifty silver pieces.

  Now what? The rain was coming down harder now and she was starting to get cold. She’d need a place to stay. And she had a little money. Enough for now. Enough for a room at an inn.

  She found, though, that she had difficulty leaving the alley. She stood there, prepared to go, ready to get out of the rain and climb into a warm bed somewhere and cry, but she kept just not going.

  “It’s OK,” she muttered to herself. “Just take your time.” Someone crossed the street outside, not even glancing down the alley, but Elaine shrank back, her heart suddenly pounding.

  “I can still walk on the street. I’m not a criminal. No one’s looking for me.” She tried to convince herself that it was all right. That she could go out there without fear—but some very fundamental part of her insisted this wasn’t true. A large portion of Tarith had just seen her father executed and had also seen her stripped of her clan standing. And she was sure most of Tarith had heard about it by now. Elaine didn’t think the members of the watch would be the only ones who might enjoy hurting her.

  She stood there, looking at the entrance to the alley, for a while. Eventually, she started shivering again, this time from the cold. Mostly. Her hair was dripping, and she couldn’t stay here forever. If anything happened, she could run again. She wished she had a weapon of some kind. Not that she’d know how to use one.

  She went to the opening of the alley and peeked out. A few people were hurrying down the rainy street, ducking in and out of overhangs. She took a step out. No one looked at her. No one approached. She set off down the street at a quick walk, trying to look as if she knew where she was going. Where was the nearest inn? Her mind didn’t seem to be working correctly, because she couldn’t remember. She wasn’t even sure exactly where she was.

  She walked quickly, nervously, for a while, turning randomly up and down streets, until she passed a small shrine to Pomir, a single candle glowing in a tiny alcove recessed into a wall, dripping wax all down the stones. A sudden new surge of dislike for the god filled her, but she tried to push the thought away. There was nothing to be gained from disrespecting the gods. When her anger cleared, she realized with surprise that she knew this shrine. She was almost a mile from High Street.

  Two blocks further on, and she came to an inn: Eclelia’s Corner. The place was Connoly-owned; Elaine wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad, now, but she went in anyway. It was warm, with well-polished wood furniture and red trim around the tops of the walls. The main room was deserted except for a group of traveling merchants huddled at a table in the corner near the fire, their heads leaned in close together.

  Elaine approached the bar at the back. No one was there, and as she stood waiting for someone to come out, she looked down and saw that she was dripping onto the floor, creating a puddle around her soggy leather boots.

  “Can I help you?”

  Elaine looked up to see a sharp-faced woman with grey hair kept back in a tight braid. The woman’s eyes flicked to Elaine’s chest and back up again.

  “I’m looking for a room, please,” Elaine said, straightening her back and meeting the woman’s eyes.

  “This is a Connoly inn.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  The woman’s lips thinned.

  “You’ll have to pay non-Connoly prices.”

  “Oh… right… of course,” Elaine said. “How much for a night?”

  “Eight pieces.”

  Elaine clenched her jaw, trying to keep the shock out of her face. She’d never heard such a ridiculous price. The most her father had ever paid for a night at an inn was four pieces, and that had been a much nicer place than this.

  The woman just watched her, waiting. Elaine considered. She had fifty pieces. That meant she could stay here six nights. And then she’d be nearly out of money. And that was assuming she didn’t eat. But if she didn’t stay here she would have to go back out into the street again. Dread rooted her to the spot. She couldn’t go back out there. Not yet. But she couldn’t pay eight pieces for a room for a single night.

  “All right. Never mind, then.”

  The woman inclined her head, noticing the puddle under Elaine. Her expression soured further. Elaine, severely hoping that the woman would be the one responsible for cleaning it up, turned on her heel and marched out. She wouldn’t pay that much for a room. And she wasn’t going to walk down the street afraid, either.

  Her mind cleared, and she remembered a cheaper inn, one of the few that wasn’t clan-owned. It was half a mile away, though, down in the warrens by the docks, in the dangerous part of town. She’d been there once with a friend—or someone she’d thought was a friend—a few years ago. She shook a little, but she’d be all right. At least she had a plan now. A temporary plan.

  Elaine kept her fists clenched as she walked, daring the people around her to bother her, but no one did. A few looked curiously at her, but as she left the nicer parts of Tarith the looks stopped.

  After some searching, she found the run-down inn, san
dwiched between a fishmonger’s and what looked suspiciously like an iris den. Half of the windows were broken or boarded over, but she entered without a second thought.

  Inside, the main room was dim. Only a few oil lamps burned, and the dirty windows didn’t let in much light. The place was crowded. Mostly men, drinking beer or playing Eccels. A few women moved among them, their eyes heavy and their clothes too revealing. Elaine pretended she didn’t feel uncomfortable as she wove her way through. Someone grabbed at her half-heartedly as she passed, but she ignored him.

  The man behind the bar was pulling more beers from a keg. A dirty towel hung over his shoulder. He turned, saw Elaine, and clunked the beers down on the bar, sloshing some over the top.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, wiping his hands on his towel.

  “I’d like a room.”

  “All right, well, I have three available.”

  “I’ll take the cheapest.”

  “That kind of day, huh?”

  Elaine didn’t answer. Her eyes darted to the rows of glasses behind him.

  He shrugged. “All right, well, that’ll be two pieces a night.”

  Elaine sighed in relief. To her annoyance, her legs almost went out from under her. She fished around in the bag at her side, but the man held out a hand to stop her.

  “Whoa, whoa there.” He glanced around the room and looked at her meaningfully. “You can pay up later, all right?”

  Elaine flushed and nodded.

  The man led her up a grimy staircase into a narrow hall. Down at the far end was a door with the number six carved roughly into its peeling paint. He opened it and gestured with one hand for her to enter. Elaine didn’t like the idea of his being between her and the door.

  “I’m all right, thanks. Is there a key?”

  He looked at her thoughtfully and nodded, taking a key off a ring hanging from his belt and handing it to her. “I’ll bring you up some food later.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  She paid him the two pieces of silver, and he nodded again and squeezed himself against the wall, keeping as far from her as he could as he passed her in the narrow hall. She pressed up against the other wall to give him space, edging towards the door as she did. Then she darted into the room, closing the door and fumbling around in the dark until she managed to lock it.

  It was completely dark, and for a moment Elaine just stood there, listening. She could hear the dull roar of talk from the main floor below, but that was it. Fumbling around, she banged a knee into the bed. Something crunched under her foot. Next to the bed was a small table, and on it she found flint and tinder. She lit the small oil lamp, and light flared into the tiny room. The floor was covered with cockroaches. Sensing the light, they scuttled away, finding the darkness in corners and under the bed.

  Elaine stared, horrified, and for a moment almost made up her mind to go back to the first inn. She took a deep breath, started to take a seat on the bed, then thought better of it. She pulled back the threadbare blanket and shook it out. One more cockroach scurried away, but other than that it seemed… well, if not clean at least free of large bugs. She sat, and the full weight of her situation hit her.

  It had all happened too fast. Just a few hours ago she had been sitting with a cup of tea on her balcony, trying to think of how to argue her father’s case. And now he was dead.

  Elaine stared blankly at the grimy wall, her mind buzzing. She could stay in this room for a little under four weeks. Assuming she bought nothing else.

  After that, what?

  She had no idea.

  Eventually, her mind blank, Elaine crawled into the bed, wrapped the blanket around herself, and let herself cry.

  8

  Jedren

  Four Years before the Reign of the Mandrevecchian.

  Jedren and Kallia saw no one on the road the rest of the afternoon. As the shadows lengthened and the sun sank behind them, Jedren began to look out for any sign of an inn or village or other human habitation. But there was nothing.

  They made camp near a small stream and did their best to wash the blood out of their clothes in the icy water. They collected twigs and dried heather and built a small fire, huddling near it and trying to dry their clothes. Jedren glanced at Kallia out of the corner of his eye. She had her bare arms propped up on her knees and was staring thoughtfully into the fire, the firelight playing across her shoulders. She shivered and he moved closer, hesitantly putting an arm around her.

  “Thank you,” she said, not taking her eyes from the blaze. Suddenly she turned, lifted her chin, and looked deeply into his eyes. His stomach turned over. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. “Thank you for protecting me.” She leaned in and kissed him. She tasted like woodsmoke. He tensed, then lifted a hand hesitantly, running it through her dark, tangled hair. A moment later her arms were around him as she climbed into his lap, and for a long while Jedren forgot about anything but her.

  The had taken all four horses with them, after stripping off her father’s livery. They rode all that day, still passing no one. As the sun sank lower towards the horizon Jedren felt that black fist clenching around his heart. His eyes swept the landscape, and he urged his tired horse faster.

  “Let’s stop and make camp here,” Kallia said.

  Jedren’s chest constricted. “I—I think there is a town, not too far ahead.”

  “I thought you said you’d never been this way.”

  “Right, no. I haven’t.”

  “Then how…”

  “Wishful thinking, I guess. There has to be one soon, right?”

  “I don’t mind. It’s nice being out here. With you.”

  He glanced back at her, saw her smile, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.”

  He wished the god of death would accept animals. But he’d been clear. A man or a woman. They had to find a town. Jedren had to find someone, or this would all be over very soon.

  It got darker and darker. Luckily the moon was full enough that their horses could still see the road. But the animals were flagging.

  “Jedren,” Kallia said, a note of concern in her voice. “It’s really fine, I’m not that—”

  There. Lights. Jedren straightened in the saddle, nearly shaking with relief. “See that? There’s a town, just over that next rise.”

  “Oh… great.” He could hear the question in her tone, but thankfully she didn’t press him further.

  A few minutes later they were passing through fields and then cottages, and then they were in a town square; a stone well squatted in the middle, a few chickens sleeping on its rafters, their heads tucked under their wings. Light streamed from the iron-barred windows of a dilapidated building on one side, and as he watched, two drunk men, their arms around each other, stumbled out. One of them caught sight of Jedren and Kallia, lifted his hand to them.

  “Evening!”

  Jedren nodded. “Evening. Is there a place to tie up our horses around here?”

  The man eyed their horses. “What you got so many for?”

  “We’re planning to sell them.”

  “Ah.” The man nodded sagely. “Well, you can tie ‘em up out front here. Innkeep’s boy’ll take care of them.”

  Jedren climbed stiffly down, then moved to help Kallia, who swung out of the saddle easily. They tied up the horses as the the two men wandered off, singing.

  The inn was winding down for the night. Only a few patrons sat nursing flagons, and two old men in the corner argued vociferously. Jedren crossed the rush-strewn floor, Kallia right behind him. A taller man than Jedren would have had to duck under the low-hanging beams, but Jedren passed easily.

  They took seats at the bar and waited until the innkeeper pushed out through some swinging double doors. His face fell when he caught sight of them.

  “I was just about to close up,” he said. “You want dinner or rooms or both?”

  “Both,” Jedren said. �
��But we don’t have any money.”

  The innkeeper frowned and ran a hand across his forehead. “That’s not how this works.”

  “We have horses we came to sell. Good ones. But we… we were robbed on the road, so we don’t have any coin left.”

  “They took your coin but not your horses?”

  “They looked like they were in a hurry,” Kallia interjected. “Didn’t want to bother with selling a bunch of horses.”

  The innkeeper’s hand rested on the back of his neck, and he nodded. “I guess that makes sense.” He eyed them. “Looks like you’ve been in a fight.”

  “Yep,” Jedren said. The man looked like he was waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

  The innkeeper heaved a sigh. “All right, all right. I’ll get you some dinner and you can pay up tomorrow. My lad’ll see to your horses. I’ll find you a buyer, too. You try and run off and I’m keeping them.”

  “Fair. We’ll find our own buyer, though.”

  The innkeeper waved a hand. “Fine, fine.” He kicked his way back through the double doors.

  Later, when Kallia and Jedren had eaten, they went up to their room and spent some time in each other’s arms in a fantastically comfortable bed. They lay together for a long while, talking, and when Kallia finally drifted off, Jedren slipped out of bed and down the stairs. His heart pounded thickly, insistently in his chest. He had no idea how much time he had. Until sunrise? Or was it twenty-four hours past the moment he’d died? The god of death hadn’t said. But he could feel something in his veins, a sluggishness in his limbs. A quickening in his fingertips, an itch to strangle the life out of something.

  He slipped down the stairs in the dark, the only illumination came from moonlight lancing in through the windowpanes, making ghostly columns that angled across the floorboards.

  The world was grey and shadowy. He still had the captain’s sword clipped to his belt. But the thought of stabbing someone again made his stomach sick. And who? He couldn’t kill just anyone. Not the innkeeper, not those men. Where was he going to find a murderer or criminal?