Ruby Ruins
Page 5
A rot swelled in the city, and finding one cancerous tumor would be difficult for Ōbhin.
In the days that followed, he tried. He talked to street thugs whenever he had free time from his duties at the estate. He paid Runty Ed and the rest of the Breezy Hills Boys to keep their ears listening. They were affiliated with the Rangers, so he hoped they’d hear something. It was how he’d found Creg to begin with.
And through it all, he worried about Avena. He saw her again and again with Creg’s severed sword rammed into her brain.
The third day after her accident, he was swept up in a new round of riots. Farmers from the outlying village had sparked it when the King’s Bounty, food given out to the poor, had run out in the Porcelain, a small slum between the larger Slops and the northern shore of Lake Ophavin. It had turned vicious; men struggling to feed families became violent, rushing the guards protecting the bread wagons.
More dead. More arrests. More property damaged and destroyed.
On the fifth day, the city seemed to have calmed down enough to let Ōbhin resume his pointless search for the sniveling man. Creg must have been in a shallow grave by now. That much blood loss should have killed him. However, until Ōbhin saw a body, he wasn’t convinced. After drilling his men, he headed for the estate’s main gate.
“Goin’ out again?” Dajouth asked. The young man had blond hair that spoke of Roidanese blood, the kingdom to the west across the Border Fang Mountains. He clutched at the front of his shirt, groping whatever amulet he always wore beneath. “Eager to get brained in another food riot?”
The memory of the blow he’d taken two days earlier throbbed across the back of Ōbhin’s skull. He’d staggered back with his black hair matted crimson. Someone had tried to steal his sword, but they hadn’t hit him hard enough to daze him. Just enough to make his head ring.
“Thinking about it,” Ōbhin said. “Better than waiting.”
Dajouth glanced at the house. The young man, seventeen or eighteen, shook his head. “She’s too pretty to be embroiled in this mess. If you wanna take a woman into the rough, you should find one like my ma.”
Ōbhin glanced at the young man. “You’d take your ma into a den of thieves and thugs?”
“‘Course.” Dajouth grinned. “Why, she’d grab their ears and slam their heads together. Tough woman, was my ma. Avena’s delicate.”
“You let her hear you say that, and she’ll thump you with her binder,” Bran said. The youngest guard fixed eager eyes on Ōbhin. “I can go with you. Keep any sappers from rappin’ the back of your head.”
Cerdyn chuckled. The broad-shouldered guard was bare-chested in the summer heat, sweat beading on the shaggy hairs covering his torso. He was the biggest man in the guard. During Ust’s attack, that strength had served well.
“I think I’ll go see if there’s any meat pies in the kitchen,” Cerdyn said. “Don’t get your head cracked in. I’d hate to work for Fingers.”
“Will Kaylin remember your name today?” the impostor-Smiles asked. “You’d think you’d get a hint when she stares at you like a stranger day in, day out.”
Cerdyn shrugged. Kaylin the cook had not been the same, or so Ōbhin was told, since her husband’s death two years ago. She could remember how to cook, but any more than that seemed to slip away from her. She could be angry at you for entering her kitchen one moment and the next you were her new scullery boy and she’d snap at you to wash her dishes.
Cerdyn nursed an ache for her. He spent a great deal of his free time around her kitchen.
“Poor man,” the thing pretending to be Smiles said. “When I first arrived, Kaylin had a temper, but at least she could remember your name.”
“You knew her husband?” asked Ōbhin.
“A little. He must have died not more than a half-month after I started workin’ here. My Jilly’s been here longer. I guess he was a good man. Had to be to put up with Kaylin’s anger. Glad my Jilly isn’t one for shoutin’.”
Ōbhin nodded as he looked away. It was so easy to forget that the thing wasn’t Smiles. Ōbhin wanted to expose the creature, but who would it replace next? Which guard or servant would leave the estate only to be killed in secret?
I hope they didn’t give your corpse to Dje’awsa, Smiles, thought Ōbhin.
“You’re guarding the gate this afternoon, right?” Ōbhin asked.
“Me ’n Bran,” Smiles said. “You forget?”
“Blows to the head do that,” Dajouth said. He clutched tighter to his shirt. “You think she’ll be different? Avena, I mean, when she gets better?”
“I don’t know,” Ōbhin growled. He marched towards the gate where Fingers stood watch. The man leaned against it, looking distant. He’d been silent since returning from their fruitless search for Creg five days back.
Pensive.
Ōbhin was halfway across the grounds, passing one of the rhododendron bushes adorned with lilac flowers, when Fingers opened the gate. A carriage trundled through and trotted down the driveway. The groom driving it wore the vestments of a priest, a prism dangling over the front and flashing in the sunlight.
Sighing, Ōbhin reversed direction and hurried after it to the manor’s front door. Dualayn hadn’t hired a new butler after Pharon’s death in the attack, and none of the maids or other servants seemed to want to step into the role. An important visitor had arrived, and the proprieties drilled into Ōbhin as a palace guardsman wouldn’t let him leave without greeting whoever this was.
Someone from the church?
Miguil, the estate’s groom and Avena’s former promised, emerged from the stables and jogged towards the front of the house to attend to the horses. The carriage slowed to a stop before the marble steps of the front porch. Ōbhin’s long legs carried him past it, his leather boots thudding on the gravel driveway. He became aware of his shoddy clothing, a rough leather jerkin and linen pants, his face flushed from the exercise in the summer sun.
A poor impression for visitors.
“Your eminence,” Miguil was saying as he helped Refractor Charlis, a high-ranking member of the church and a friend of Dualayn’s, step down from the carriage. “Be welcome.”
“Elohm’s Blessed Colours fill you,” the priest said. He was a bald, round-faced man who didn’t seem to have a neck at all. His chin pressed into the rainbow robe that clad his body. Over that draped a white stole espousing his virtue: Honesty.
“Your eminence,” Ōbhin added. “Dualayn is not seeing guests at this time.”
“Yes, yes, he’s in his lab,” said the refractor. “Come on, child.” He held out his hand to the other passenger in the carriage.
Ōbhin was shocked to see the young woman who stepped out in the yellow robes of a Daughter of Patience. It was Deffona, Avena’s friend. The girl stepped down, her smile full of warmth. She didn’t have the bags under her eyes he remembered from the times he’d seen her at the hospital her cloistered order ran. She wore a white wimple that framed her round face covered by a yellow veil that fell over her shoulders.
“Deffona?” Ōbhin asked.
“Blessed day to you, Ōbhin,” she said, expression anxious.
“My new secretary,” said Charlis. “I poached her from Eldest Daughter Anglia.”
A look of momentary relief passed across Deffona’s face. “It’s been quite the challenge, and I do miss working at the hospital, but the refractor wanted to keep me close. He’s such a powerful man, you know. He is trying to keep Parliament from passing another tax for the king.” A giddy smile flashed across her face. “I even met the new high refractor.”
Ōbhin gave a polite nod. He wasn’t an Elohmite, so he cared little about who ruled their church.
“I’m working close with High Refractor Haphen on a bill that, I hope, we’ll bring some measure of peace to the city,” Charlis said. “I was hoping to have Dualayn’s input on the details. His mastery of jewelchines is unparalleled.”
“And we were hoping to see Avena,” Deffona added, her voice qu
iet.
Darkness pressed on Ōbhin.
Miguil shook his head and said, “Dualayn won’t let any of us see her. But we’re all praying for her.”
Miguil and Avena’s plans to marry had been destroyed when she’d learned Miguil’s true passion. She had little interest in being a disguise for a husband who’d prefer spending his time in the company of other men. Despite that, the pair had grown a friendship in the wake of Ust’s attack and the death of Miguil’s lover, Pharon.
“Such a tragedy,” Deffona said, tracing the prism before her.
“Dualayn hasn’t left her side,” Ōbhin said as he led the two visitors up the porch to the new set of double doors, replacements for the old destroyed by Ust. They were carved with the seven gems forming a circle. Topaz took the top spot, the only gem bisected by the gaps in the doors. “He sleeps in there. Won’t let anyone inside. He hardly even eats. Most of his meals are left untouched.”
“He does emerge sometimes to eat, though?” Charlis asked as Ōbhin opened the door. Its hinges made hardly a whisper.
“He does.”
They stepped into the cooler interior. The high ceilings helped to diminish the summer’s growing heat along with curtains soaked in water before open windows. Ōbhin’s small room, at the western end of the house, sweltered by day’s end. Their steps echoed on the polished marble floor. The door to the lab was shut firm, a sign hanging out front asking for no disturbances. A tray of food, covered in linen, lay untouched on a small table beside it.
“Perhaps he’ll emerge,” said Charlis. “It is of rather pressing importance I speak with him.”
“What exactly is this bill?” Ōbhin asked, then flushed. “My apologies for prying, your eminence.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. The king is talking war with Roidan to seize all the gem mines in the Border Fangs. With the growing jewelchine revolution, the value of those mines climbs by the day. King Anglon is blinded by Black greed.”
“It’s behind the increased taxes,” Deffona said. “Or so the refractor says.”
Charlis nodded, his face somber. “Politics is no place for a servant of Elohm, and I am afraid some of His refractors and priests who’ve been appointed to the House of the Clergy are servants of coin. I chastise them, but bribes are flowing.”
“It’s so infuriating,” Deffona huffed. “People are suffering. My order’s hospital is groaning with those wounded in the riots. And there’s sickness, too. The brown waters broke out in the Tethyr District.”
Ōbhin winced at the news of the abdominal disease.
“Our new high refractor preaches peace, but the Greens and Whites swell the city.” Charlis sighed. “And some idiot’s started a rumor about a long-lost Briflon heir who will return and set things right.” The priest rolled his eyes. “As if the three Briflon brothers hadn’t exterminated their family fighting over who’d be king. It’s just the sort of nonsense that scared people believe. They’re ripe for a savior to swoop in and right all the wrongs. Kash is a ruby jewelchine dropped into a kettle. Soon, the steam will be hissing and there’ll be another riot against our ‘impostor’ king.”
“Is there any hope for peace?” Ōbhin asked.
“Some,” Charlis said. “If I can get the support in Parliament. King Anglon and his queen are spending coin like a fool in a whorehouse.”
“Refractor Charlis!” Deffona gasped.
He waved a hand. “I grew up in the Mud Strip, girl. The things I heard would make you blush.” Then the priest took a seat on a chair placed for those waiting on word of their loved ones being cared for inside. “If I’m lucky, Dualayn will emerge, and I can talk with him.”
Deffona glanced at Ōbhin. Her eyes took on a studious look. “I’m not sure I can stand to just do nothing. Would you kindly show me the grounds? I have never been here.”
“Never?”
She shook her head. “Young acolytes are rarely allowed to leave the convent, and once I’d taken my vows, I was put to work in the hospital.” She smiled. “Avena’s visits were always a delight, even if the eldest daughter would scold me later for shirking my duties.”
“Hard woman, her,” muttered Charlis. “She was more like you when she was younger. Bright and cheerful.”
“You knew the eldest when she was my age?” Deffona asked, blinking in some surprise. “And she wasn’t the antithesis of fun?”
“Now, daughter, that’s a bit harsh,” said Charlis. The refractor leaned back in the chair. “She only ever wanted you to excel. I imagine she thinks of you as her real daughter.”
Deffona blanched. “I’d hope my real mother would have treated me better.”
Ōbhin shook his head. “I’m missing a piece or two of information.”
“I was left on the hospital’s doorstep as a babe,” said Deffona. “Eldest Daughter Anglia didn’t even join the hospital until I was nearly three or four. She had me spanked for the first time and had words with the other daughters about being too permissible with me.”
Charlis made a surprised sound. “I knew her when she worked as Refractor Messian’s secretary. He was my predecessor. I took his place, oh, twenty or so years ago when he decided the calling of a simple priest at a village church suited him. I selected my own secretary. Anglia spent some time in contemplation in a rural convent before she found a new away to serve Elohm. She was such a bright and friendly young woman. Messian adored her, you know.” He flashed Deffona a smile. “She brought a certain brightness to the room.”
“Wearing yellow does that,” Deffona said. “We positively reflect light. Why, I imagine, give me a single jewelchine lamp, stick me atop the Gray Pillar, and I would reflect enough brilliance to light up the city.”
“The imagination you have, daughter.”
“And the patience to indulge in it.” Deffona flashed Ōbhin a smile, her eyebrows arching in expectation.
After a moment he groaned, “Right, you’re a Daughter of Patience.”
“Hmm, Avena says you have quicker wit than that.” Deffona glanced at the closed laboratory doors, the excitement in her face vanishing. “Refractor, may I walk the grounds? I fear that I cannot handle idle waiting.”
“Losing that famed patience you just boasted about?” Charlis asked. “No, no, I understand. If my bosom friend’s life lay in such peril, I would not be able to sit by so idly. Enjoy your walk.”
Deffona nodded. “Ōbhin, would you be a gentleman and give me a tour?”
Ōbhin couldn’t find a reason to deny her. “My pleasure.”
“You have a politeness about you,” Deffona said, taking his proffered arm. Her yellow robes rustled about her body. “A polish that a guard shouldn’t have.”
“It depends on the guard,” he said as he led her to the front door.
“Intriguing,” she said. “Avena mentioned you were a soldier or something in Qoth.”
“Or something,” he said.
“Yes, that’s how she puts it. Like chiseling at granite to get a mere chip from you.”
His brow furrowed as he opened the front doors. Summer sunlight fell dazzling on her robes. Blinking against the sudden glare, he said, “She speaks about me?”
“Often. It’s not surprising.”
“Well, I am training her and . . .” He hesitated. “Well, she is helping me track down some information.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid she rarely speaks of you.”
“Rarely?” The young woman deflated.
“She doesn’t talk about unnecessary things with me,” he added in haste. “You know, fighting and, er, our theories on Dualayn’s research.”
“Why the Brotherhood is so interested in it?” she asked.
He glanced askance at her. Deffona’s face shone with innocence. It was about the only part of her body, save her hands, she showed. She swathes herself in modesty and leaves her most intimate part exposed for any man to read her emotions.
“She’s talked a lot. You and her have secrets.” She shuddered against him.
“And now you’ve carried her across half the city to get her help,” said Deffona. There was something . . . girlish in her voice. Breathy. “A mad rush to save her life.”
“What else could I do?” A memory of that panicked flight filled him. Avena had hardly weighed more than a feather in his arms, so frail as she twitched and spasmed. “I shouldn’t have let her come with me.”
“Could you have stopped her?”
He shook his head. They passed the side of the house and he turned them towards the lake. A cool breeze came off of it. The slums of the Porcelain lay at the far end, a black stain, but the southern end still had picturesque trees along its banks and reeds sprouting in its shallows. There were secluded spots along the shore. A heron waded, bill aimed at the water. Its beak flashed down to snatch out a red-and-white carp from the water.
“Will she recover?” Deffona asked, her voice tight now.
“Should be a few more days,” Ōbhin said, trying to put more confidence in his pronouncement than he felt. “I think it’s a good sign she’s made it this far. Dualayn won’t let her die.”
“Good,” Deffona said. “And you’ll be caring for her, right?”
“Protecting her when her stubbornness throws her into the snowsnake’s nest.”
“Snowsnake?”
“Monsters they say live in the deepest snow of my homeland’s mountains. Their bite freezes you, kills the flesh. Frostbite, we call it. They’re said to be invisible and can strike through clothing if you’re not careful.”
“Well, I’m glad. You and her are like a rosebush.” She glanced at Ōbhin. “One that’s growing strong, I think. If a little . . . uncoordinated.”
“Rosebush? Uncoordinated? What are you talking about?”
“Relationship. What me and you are doing right now. We’re growing ours. It’s newly sprouted. I’m not sure what shape it’ll take, but with you and Avena, I see you two as a rosebush. With red flowers. Those are my favorite.”