Book 6: Chapter 9 |
“NOW THAT’S COMING UP in the world — a Margrave!” Lada said in a satisfied tone of voice. Having set aside all her tableware, she leaned back into her armchair. “You’re even living in comfort while you’re on campaign.”
After our encounter in the square, I invited the witch back to my camp for lunch. So there we were — sitting at a table in my tent, sampling the best of Gunnar’s cuisine in perfect calm.
The kid had learned a lot while he was working with Lucas (who, after all, was our resident culinary expert). After all, even after years of cooking for aristocrats at the Fox Den, Agnes didn’t consider it beneath her to turn to Lucas for advice now and then.
Long story short, Gunnar did a pretty good job with the food. His specialty was duck in plum sauce with vegetables on the side. And that was what he made for Lada and me.
“My compliments to your chef,” said Lada, raising a silver goblet in the direction of the canopy where Gunnar was working, and from which he would occasionally emerge to bring us wine or change the silverware.
This was quite a gesture on Lada’s part, considering the effort she normally went to to hide her aristocratic mannerisms. I couldn’t help but notice how deftly and gracefully she used her fork and knife.
“So — I gather you’ve decided to start a career in theater?” I asked after a small sip of an excellent Ferranian. “I must admit, you’re pretty good with the tambourine. I can’t even begin to imagine what other talents you might have.”
Lada’s lips twisted into a grimace as she shook her head.
“I just happened to be traveling the same way as Pierre Girot and his troupe. That’s all.”
“But our meeting wasn’t just a chance encounter. I’m right in saying that, of course?”
My sudden change of tone didn’t seem to faze Lada at all. Quite the contrary, in fact — she seemed almost eager to drop the facade and start speaking frankly.
“You’re right,” came her firm reply. “I came to Bresmont a week ago, so I could meet with you...”
Then, more quietly, she added:
“I need your help... I couldn’t heal myself on my own... But of course you know that already. And you knew it before, too...”
“I did,” I replied, then fell silent as I stared back into her eyes.
“I’m assuming our prior arrangement is no longer in force?” She asked, without flinching under my stern gaze.
“What do you think?” I asked without any hint of sarcasm. “I seem to remember that according to that agreement, you were supposed to tell me as much as you could about the Shadow and the world of the true gifted.”
“And you were supposed to heal me.”
“Witches,” I snorted. “You’re all the same. But this time you managed to outwit yourself. If you hadn’t run off, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation at all.”
“Then let’s make a new arrangement,” Lada fired back without missing a beat. It seemed she had anticipated things taking just such a turn.
“No,” I snapped back. “And what could you offer me anyway? Where the Shadow and the true gifted are concerned, I already know more than you do. I mean, I guess you could dance with that tambourine... But that would be more of a punishment for my eyes and ears than a pleasure.”
“Well, we could have said our goodbyes back in the square. But I’m here now,” said Lada with a devious smile. “I’m eating at the table of the Margrave de Valier himself, the man whose adventures are fodder for traveling actors in even the most dismal backwaters. That’s not just a coincidence, is it? Tell me what I can do for you, and let’s come to a new arrangement.”
I heard her out in silence, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Did you know that the Frozen Spears are in the city?”
A shadow fell over the witch’s face. With a grimace of disgust, she hissed back:
“Those vermin have been here for a few days already. And several true gifted have already disappeared without a trace. Including two young witches from the local coven.”
I laid a palm against my forehead as I digested this information. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out who those true gifted were going to feed.
“I saw the marks of the coven on some of the pillars in the city,” I said. “I assume you’re in contact with the local mother?”
“You could say that,” replied Lada evasively.
Of course she does, I thought. How else could Lada have spent so much time on the mother’s territory without her permission.
“I want to talk to her,” I said. “Will you arrange a meeting for us?”
“I doubt she’ll want to talk to a spellsword, even an aristocratic one,” Lada shook her head. “Yavlina is a very old, very cautious witch.”
“Well, do you think she’d be willing to talk to an auring?” I asked as I unleashed my aura.
Lada, who had been sitting in quite a relaxed posture, suddenly jumped and staggered backward. If she had reacted any more violently, she would’ve fallen right out of her chair.
For a few moments, she just stared at me in amazement, as if afraid to move. But after finally pulling herself together, although still breathing heavily, she asked in a hoarse whisper:
“So it’s true? I’ve heard rumors among the true gifted and the first-born in the capital about some young auring, but I didn’t pay them any attention... So that auring is YOU?”
“How long were you living in the capital?” I asked, ignoring her questions. “Why didn’t you come see me earlier? I have no doubt that you’d have been able to find my castle.”
“I was there for just over a week before I came to Bresmont,” Lada replied, already sounding more calm.
Although I could see that she was still tense. The magic emanating from my aura had slammed into her pretty hard.
“And you’re right — finding your castle was easy. You’re a well-known figure now... But your popularity is such that there are always people hanging around your castle. Too many people. And not all of them are just star-struck idiots... Suffice it to say that I wouldn’t want to cross paths with some of them. I see you’re not surprised? You know about the spies, then...”
I replied with a silent nod. Of course I knew. All the spies keeping watch outside my estate were being kept well in hand by Susanna Marino. Actually, she had finally found out who Benedict, my gardener, was spying for.
As it turns out, the old man would occasionally meet up with a long-time acquaintance for a mug of ale down at the “Green Bass” tavern, which was located in the port district near the river.
The nisse informed me that Benedict would always come back from these meetings with a little pouch filled with silver coins.
Further tracking revealed that Benedict’s old buddy (the source of this money) was one of the Duchess de Clairmont’s personal servants. As I later learned, Benedict had been a gardener at the Fox Den since before it was sold to Max’s father.
And to be honest, that information made things slightly more puzzling for me. Now, if in light of recent events the Duke de Clairmont had sent a spy into my house, that wouldn’t have been all that bad, and it would have been readily explicable. But the Duchess...
What, I wondered, could she possibly want from me? True, I already had a few ideas on that, all of which had to do with my fox amulet. I remembered that Louisa de Clairmont had promised the dearly-departed Watchmaker some serious money if he could procure it for her. She was probably trying to get information on Robert de Clairmont’s collection.
In the end, I decided to leave Benedict alone for the time being. Better to let him keep spying, albeit under the nisse’s watchful eyes. Besides, I had assigned Susanna Marino to sniff out everything she could about the de Clairmonts. I could have sent one of my first-borns to visit their house covertly, of course, but there wouldn’t have been any point to that. Because Louisa de Clairmont herself spent almost all her time at the Queen’s side. And as my first-born explained to me, the royal palace was protected from any such covert visits by a whole array of powerful charms. That was why there weren’t any representatives of the first-born living there. By the way, I could also feel some sort of protective magic as I was walking around the King’s “hunting lodge.” Although to be fair, I hadn’t been paying especially close attention to that at the time — my thoughts were focused squarely on the death-magic emanations.
“It wasn’t hard to learn that the Margrave de Valier was headed off to war, either,” Lada continued with a chuckle. “So I decided to come meet you here. Especially since my old friend Pierre Girot was planning to follow the army with his troupe as part of the market caravan. Why do you want to talk to the local coven mother?”
Lada asked the question very suddenly, without any warning.
“Please understand where I’m coming from. If I’m going to negotiate a meeting for you, I have to know at least something about what you want to say. Yavlina will definitely ask me about it. And also... Before I do this, I need you to give me your word that you’ll uphold your end of the bargain.”
“What bargain?” I was surprised.
Lada frowned; she was tense again.
“I thought that — “
“You thought that arranging a meeting for me with the head of the local coven would get you what you want?” I was genuinely bewildered at her naivete. “Please don’t try my patience, and definitely don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes again, witch. Always remember who you’re talking to here. I’m going to have to spend a large amount of my own energy and time on treating you. If you want me to completely restore your energy system, you’re going to have to work for it. If you don’t like it, the door is right there behind you. YOU came looking for a meeting with ME, because you know I’m the only one who can help you. I was getting along just fine without you. And I could figure out a way to meet with Yavlina on my own as well.”
Lada just glared at me for a little while. Even before we sat down, she knew very well that I could demand a very high price for my services. As a good, self-respecting witch, however, she simply couldn’t agree to it without at least trying to wheedle a better deal out of me. And who could blame her? If it worked, she would get what she wanted for next to nothing.
“Name your price,” she finally grumbled.
“It’s quite simple,” I said, spreading my arms out to the sides. “You serve me until you’re fully healed. I’ll tell you right now, though — it’s going to be dangerous. And the tasks I’m going to give you will be risky. I’m sure you understand that already. But I promise that while you’re serving me, you’ll be under my protection. And I give you my word that I won’t draw out the healing process. What do you say?”
Lada watched my body language carefully as she asked:
“Are you certain that this will work?”
I switched to true vision, just so that she could see it in my eyes; then, a second later, I continued:
“Absolutely. I give you my word on that, too.”
At that, Lada let out a heavy sigh. She picked up her goblet and drained it in one big gulp. Then she said:
“I’m in. What do I need to do?”
“Not so fast.” I held up a finger to stop her as my eyes narrowed a little bit. “We’re going to do everything by the book here.”
“So what — you’re going to bring in a lawyer?” The witch laughed, but I could sense that she was quite tense.
“No,” I shook my head. “Better than that. Witnesses. Come on out!”
As soon as I spoke, my first-born appeared out of the corners of the tents, along with the hejdelf. Lorin immediately took a seat on one of the chests and kept repairing the bridle he was holding, seemingly oblivious to the rest of us.
The fairies sat down on stools and armchairs as Lada looked on in amazement.
I snapped my fingers to call Lada’s attention back to me, then continued:
“Now we can continue. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what will happen if a certain witch starts to fancy herself smarter and cleverer than the rest of us, and suddenly disappears without fulfilling her end of the bargain? Well, I’ll remind you just in case: if that happens, the news will be all over Mainland within a few days. And there won’t be a single true gifted, let alone any first-born, who will be willing to work with an oath-breaker. And you’ll have to make sure to keep your distance from me, wherever I go. After all — it’s in my power to heal you, and it’s also well within my power to make your disfigurement even worse. So? Still want your magic back?”
I stood up and stretched my hand out toward her. Lada stood up as well; her eyes narrowed, and then she grabbed my hand with an expression like that of a drowning man grasping at a tree branch. And then she immediately twitched. Her eyes widened again as a little burst of my mana flowed into her energy structure. A shudder passed across her body, and she fell to her knees.
Breathing heavily, she raised her head and looked me up and down.
“How is that possible?” She asked in a hoarse croak. For just a second, the mask of the confident, independent, arrogant witch cracked, and I could see both fear and excitement mingled in her expression.
Ignia snorted derisively; Vaira chuckled; Selina, the most peaceable of the “sisters,” just smiled softly.
“He’s an auring, witch,” Lorin answered for me, without looking up from his work. “And he’s just at the beginning of his path.”
I shook my head and helped Lada get up from where she was kneeling on the ground. She was the same old witch again — confident, and quick to snap back with a harsh word if need be.
“We’ll start repairing your energy structure tomorrow,” I said before she could fully regain her bearings. “Here’s what I need from you: I want you to be my eyes and ears in the city, and then in the camp once the army moves out. And yes — I need to meet with the local coven’s mother. Tell her I have a proposition for her.”
“What if she doesn’t want to meet?” Lada asked. “I wasn’t lying to you — the old lady is stubborn and very cautious.”
“Then tell her I know who killed the witches from her coven,” I replied.
This startled Lada; she leaned in a little closer.
“You think they’re dead? Was it the Frozen Spears?”
“I’m positive,” I replied. “Soulcatchers need to feed their shades.”
Lada’s expression darkened, and she took a step backward without meaning to. But she didn’t have time to say anything. An anxious-looking Gunnar stepped briskly into the tent.
“Your Lordship,” he began hurriedly. “We have guests...”
* * *
I spotted the Marquis von Dassel’s red mane from afar. The leader of the Astlandic mercenaries was sauntering toward us on a white charger, accompanied by almost thirty other riders.
Besides the Marquis’ countrymen, I noticed a few Vestonian nobles, and also Lord Gray and his squires.
The whole colorful cavalcade had come to a stop in front of two rows of sharpened stakes that my people had already managed to sink into the ground around our camp. We had only just arrived, of course, but since the stakes were prepared well ahead of time (within the first few days of our journey, in fact), we were already protected by a nice defensive fortification. And that was in addition to the wagons themselves, whose walls had been prepared especially for use as defensive barriers at times like these.
My unit was already in place, ready for a fight. They were just waiting for me. The Astlanders on either side were already busy hurling insults at one another, raining down all sorts of curses on each other’s heads. It was interesting to note that both sides were referring to their opponents as “traitors.”
When Sigurd, Aelira, and I stepped into the space between the stakes, the shouting died down.
“I’m Margrave Maximillian de Valier!” I announced in a loud shout. “I imagine you have something to discuss with me, gentlemen?! Who’s in charge here? Who am I speaking to?”
The Marquis von Dassel immediately rode out to face me, accompanied by two of his black-bearded soldiers in stryker armor. They wore the sigil of the “Uncrushables” — two swords crossed above a rectangular shield. This, by the way, was the other Astlandic mercenary guild’s name. Judging by the appearance of the two soldiers beside the Marquis, they were probably blood brothers. Hm, I thought... The older, bigger one is an avant. The other is a medius who’s nearing the transition to avant. They were both looking right past me. Their gazes were locked firmly on the “Savages,” who were looking back at them with identical expressions on their faces. Apparently, these men didn’t take me very seriously. They either didn’t know anything about me, or they just didn’t believe what they had heard. They thought I was just another upstart aristocrat.
Lord Gray and his people stayed where they were. I wondered, as I watched them — what were they doing here? And did the Duke de Clairmont know about what was happening?
As if reading my mind, Gray looked at me and nodded ever so slightly. Hm... So the Marshal was aware. Which meant that Lord Gray was there to maintain control of whatever happened next? It wasn’t hard to guess why the Vestonian nobles were there, of course: they wanted something to talk about at their next reception, or with their circle of friends.
“You’re speaking with me!” The Marquis von Dassel announced in a distinctly discourteous tone. His massive horse snorted and stomped a hoof into the ground. “We’re here to call to account the leader of this pack of rat bastards and cowards you’ve seen fit to hire.”
Furious shouting broke out among the Astlanders on both sides of our row of spikes. The shouting on my side stopped, however, as soon as I raised a hand into the air to silence it. The black-bearded avant (who, of course, was actually in charge on the other side) also raised his fist into the air, and his warriors fell silent just as quickly.
“Marquis, I can handle the hiring and firing in my retinue perfectly well without your involvement!” I replied in a measured tone. “I’d also like to remind you personally — it’s only thanks to the Marshal de Clairmont’s intervention that you’re still alive! I advise you to watch your every word very carefully. Otherwise I’ll be forced to take it upon myself to teach you to put a muzzle on your overactive mouth!”
The red-headed Marquis’ face started to turn red. I waited with a smile for him to start insulting me. Well, I thought?! Come on! Open that big fat mouth of yours. The Gods will bear witness that I’ve excused your antics two times already. They wouldn’t expect me to do so a third time.
The Vestonians stirred. Excited smiles flitted across their faces. Anticipation. Unlike the Astlanders, they knew exactly how this duel would end for the redhead.
Lord Gray looked gloomy. If the Marquis were to die, he would have failed in the task his commander had charged him with.
But Dassel was in luck. The black-bearded avant spoke up before he had a chance to.
“Your Lordship, my name is Baron Friedrich von Neumark!” He introduced himself.
His heavy baritone, the confident, stern look in his black eyes, the scar on his face, the deep-purple color of his energy system... His entire appearance suggested that the man before me was a veteran of many battles, as well as a commander and leader who was not used to having his orders disobeyed.
“I fear there’s been a misunderstanding here,” he continued in a calm tone. Admittedly, he obviously wasn’t trying to calm me down. He was trying to intimidate me. And I have to admit — it was a pretty good attempt. “In order to calm the agitation in the ranks of my own soldiers, His Grace the Duke de Clairmont and I have come to a decision that we feel will satisfy us all. We’ve come to offer a challenge to these people’s leader.”
Having said this, Baron von Neumark pointed a finger at Kurt von Hartha, who was standing with his head held proudly in the air as he glared back at the head of the “Uncrushables.”
“Ah, I see!” I smiled; I exchanged a quick glance with Sigurd, who had a predatory grin on his face. “Well, if that’s Marshal de Clairmont’s decision... And you assure me that this will still the agitation in your ranks?”
“Yes,” said the Baron. “As soon as the leader of these traitors dies, it will all be over. And no one will disturb you further. I give you my word!”
“And if your man should end up dying?”
The Baron snickered. Derisive laughter rippled through the ranks of his men.
“That won’t happen.”
“Still — if it does?” I insisted. “I don’t want to have to worry about the possibility of being constantly disturbed.”
“I give you my word that if our duellist should die, no one will disturb you further!” Baron von Neumark announced, his voice totally serious. “And just to put you further at ease, my brother will also swear. Dietrich!”
“I swear it!” The second stryker barked with a snicker in his voice.
“Excellent!” I replied. “A weight off my mind, truly! So who will be fighting from your side?”
“I will!” Friedrich von Neumark replied in a slightly-louder voice as he stared at Kurt.
“Wonderful!” I crowed. “When and where?”
“Tomorrow at noon,” said the Baron. “In the middle of the camp.”
“Well then — challenge accepted!” I announced loudly. “You and I will cross swords tomorrow at noon!:
The Baron did a double-take, then stared at me like a kid who had just jumped out onto the road in front of his horse.
“I’m afraid you misunderstand me, Margrave,” he said with gentle insistence. “I seek the blood of that man there, not yours. I have no desire to kill you.”
I could hear Kurt stir behind me, but Sigurd growled something at him through gritted teeth that made him stop.
“But didn’t you just announce to us all that you came to offer a challenge to the leader of these people? Per the terms of our contract, I’ve been their leader for some time already.”
“I repeat — I’m not seeking your death...” said Baron von Neumark lazily.
“Remember your oath!” I ignored the avant and turned to his brother, who was frowning as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.
I pictured Marshal de Clairmont’s face. The old man had been thinking he could sacrifice one of my people to restore order. Well, I thought — you’re in for a surprise, old man.
Then I turned back to Friedrich.
“According to the dueling code, the choice of weapons is mine. I choose sword and dagger. In stryker armor. That is, of course, if you haven’t reconsidered your desire to fight.”
The avant stared back at me like I was already dead. Before turning his horse around, he said:
“Alas, there will be no honor in your death. You’re going to die tomorrow for the sins of these despicable traitors.”