Banebringer

by Carol A Park

  The woman seemed to sense his hesitation. Of course she did. She was good at this. She put her hand to his robe and fingered it. “If I may presume?”

  He nodded numbly, barely noticing as she slid the robe off his shoulders, leaning in close as she did so. Her body, lightly clothed as it was, brushed his chest, and fire swept through him. Until she kissed his neck, and he breathed in sharply.

  Though her skin might have been the same approximate color, and her hair as silky and dark, she smelled nothing like Ivana.

  And she looked nothing like Ivana. Her skin was too perfect, too smooth, too youthful—aside from a large, dark freckle on the side of her neck, which someone had attempted to cover up with makeup.

  Ivana hadn’t worn makeup since they had been with the Ichtaca, and he didn’t think she suffered for it. Perhaps her complexion wasn’t perfect, and, away from her inn, she had worn her hair pulled back, giving her a more severe look.

  Until she had loosened it, and it had spilled around her shoulders. Until he had seen the lines around her hard eyes fade as she had melted against him. Until he had run his fingers along those scars, evidence of imperfection, evidence of a pain he didn’t even begin to understand, hadn’t tried hard enough to.

  This woman was imperfect as well. He knew it as surely as he could see it, once he looked hard enough—all covered discreetly, of course. A freckle here. A dimple in the wrong place there.

  A mask.

  His manhood failed him, then. She was beautiful, but he didn’t want this woman. If he tried hard enough to think about nothing else, he could probably perform, but that would take too much energy, and he was tired.

  She pulled back from him, sensing that whatever it was she had been doing wasn’t working. And she finally gave up, tilting her head. “I wonder,” she said quietly, “if you really want to be here.”

  He stood up and pulled the robe back over himself, turning away from her. Never in his entire life had he failed to perform for a woman. Not once. Not one, single, damned time.

  Ivana had ruined him, completely.

  “Who is she?” the nameless beauty asked from behind him, still seated.

  Perceptive. He could almost hear Ivana whispering next to him. And has anyone ever noticed that about her?

  “A pain in the ass,” he said. Or balls.

  He thought she stifled a laugh in response, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps she had merely sneezed. “A long talk with the woman in question might be better than other means of relieving your frustration,” she said.

  Ha. He didn’t think Ivana would respond well to that. He shook his head. “It’s complicated,” he said.

  “It usually is.”

  He turned then, one eyebrow raised. “Are all companions versed in counseling as well?”

  She smiled. “You would be surprised.”

  He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, though that was an odd thing to say to someone whom he had hired to please him. “I…it isn’t you.”

  “I know,” she said. “I don’t suppose you would admit that to my handler?” Though she was smiling, her face was strained.

  Punishment if there were complaints? If a man had been unable to achieve arousal to his satisfaction, for whatever reason, it was unlikely that he would admit his failure, thus making her bear the fault, however unjustified, if he chose to mete out his frustration rather than hide it.

  “I won’t blame you,” he promised.

  She nodded, relief evident on her face.

  He knocked at the side door, into the dressing area, and an attendant opened it. The man, a eunuch, raised his eyebrow. “Finished already, Dal?” He cast a look into the room, frowning at the woman.

  “Sometimes a man just needs a quick fix, you know?”

  The eunuch stared at him, and given the high timbre of his voice, perhaps he didn’t know.

  “Uh…yeah. Are my clothes ready?”

  The man bowed. “Washed, but still drying over the hearth.”

  “Don’t care.” He wanted out of here. Now. He didn’t look back at the woman as the attendant closed the door behind him.

  On his way out, he was sure to praise her exceptional beauty and skill and gave her a ridiculously generous personal tip.

  It felt like a hollow gesture.

  The next day, Vaughn found Aleena basking in the sun near the entrance of the orchard. He brushed himself off, trying not to look offended at the rough search he had had to endure to get in the orchard. A commoner wouldn’t be offended. A commoner would be grateful for the tithe of free apples.

  “Tell me,” Aleena said when he reached her. “Do you think the standing ordinance that commoners can pick the apples from this orchard before the harvest festival is generosity on the part of the king, or a way of obtaining free labor?”

  Vaughn grunted. “You sound like Ivana.”

  Aleena smiled. “She’s an exceptional woman.” She stood. “Walk with me, Vaughn.”

  He had never told her his real name, so the note must have told her. He kept pace with her as she walked, and they wound their way through the trees, avoiding the poor already up on ladders, eagerly plucking apples from the trees under the watchful eye of the orchard’s caretakers. They would receive a tenth of any apples they picked, for free.

  Or, rather, in exchange for picking the king’s apples for him.

  Aleena led him to the far side of the orchard, where few had wandered yet. The orchard was enormous.

  She plucked a ladder from an untouched pile and hoisted it against the tree without any struggle.

  Strong, Vaughn noted. Not someone to underestimate, despite her plain appearance. She climbed the ladder, and together they worked, she plucking them, and then handing them down to Vaughn, who held up the increasingly heavy basket. When they had a full basket, she finally descended the ladder.

  She went over to the caretaker, gave him the basket, and the caretaker selected a portion of the apples and let her wrap them in a large cloth. She slid one arm through the loop she had made at the top and gestured to Vaughn to follow.

  He glanced back at the tree and then around the orchard. What in the abyss did any of this have to do with the information she had for him? They had been here for over two hours, and still she gave no hint that she had any intention of doing anything other than picking apples.

  They left via a different gate and spent another fifteen minutes walking around the palace wall, toward a poorer part of the city—surprisingly close to the palace, but at its backside and well-hidden from view by trees, where no one important would ever see it. Finally, Aleena stopped and sat down next to the wall in the shade of a tree. She tossed an apple Vaughn’s way and then selected one for herself before tying the bundle back up.

  “Um,” Vaughn said as they sat. “Do I dare ask why we just spent two hours picking apples?”

  Aleena nodded beyond the trees. “Not a half mile from here is a workhouse. Ivana delivers her portion of the apples to them every year. I didn’t want her work to go undone because she’s currently indisposed.”

  Vaughn shook his head, no longer surprised by such revelations about the assassin. “And you had to bring me along?”

  She turned to him and gave him a wide smile. “Made it go faster, didn’t it?”

  He stared at her, incredulous.

  “However…” Aleena took a bite of her apple with a loud crunch and then continued to speak around the fruit in her mouth. “You might also be interested to know that that is the workhouse the girls were taken to.”

  “So they’re there?”

  “Not anymore,” Aleena said, and then looked up. “Ah. There we go.”

  A man was headed their way. He had the pale skin of someone from Fuilyn. And the clear blue eyes and blond-white hair of a Fuilynian of pure noble blood. Fuilynians always seemed washed out to Vaughn, like someone had dunked them in a tub of bleach.

  The man stopped when he saw Vaughn, and then glanced at Aleena.

  “It’s all right
, Kayden,” Aleena said. “He’s a friend.”

  The man—Kayden—joined them, and Aleena tossed him an apple. He held it, obviously perplexed, and then sat on the other side of Aleena. “What’s this about?”

  Vaughn was glad he wasn’t the only one who was confused by this encounter.

  “Kayden, meet Vaughn. Vaughn, meet Kayden.”

  Kayden nodded curtly to Vaughn, and he realized with a start that this was the man Ivana had sent to talk to Aleena, back when they had fled the smoldering ruins of her inn. He had only seen him in the dark, and all but the darkest skin tones looked similar with his night vision.

  Vaughn nodded back.

  “Vaughn comes with some welcome news from Ivana. We are, apparently, to receive some help from a rather unusual source in freeing the girls.”

  Hope flared in the man’s eyes, and he leaned forward eagerly. “It’s been months, and with all my resources, I haven’t figured out a way to get her out. What can this man do?”

  “This man, and his friends.” Aleena held up a hand. “But first, let’s get Vaughn caught up. I took a job at the workhouse where I knew the girls had been taken, hoping to find and retrieve them easily. But by the time I started work, they had been moved.” She glanced at Kayden. “I had unexpected help. Kayden used his influence to help me obtain a better position, one that allowed me information about where they had gone.” She smiled wanly. “Lots of coin, noble blood, and a pretty face will do a lot that even I can’t do.”

  Vaughn studied her. She didn’t think she had a pretty face? She wasn’t the exotic beauty of the prostitute the night before, but she wasn’t homely by any means.

  “The Conclave has them,” Vaughn said, filling in the blanks from what Ivana had already told them.

  Aleena nodded. “Part of my job is managing the rooms of the topmost priests’ personal stash of whores.”

  Vaughn winced. Conclave priests were supposed to be celibate. That some paid little heed to their vows was no revelation—Perrit had told them that much, though he personally, the poor, pious man, had never indulged in such wickedness.

  “The position is, of course, a significant step up from managing the washwomen in the workhouse, and one instilled with a certain amount of trust, since I see a lot I’m not supposed to.”

  At this, Kayden’s chest rose, and he stared off into the distance, looking troubled. For a noble to have used his name to guarantee a person for a position of confidence, knowing that the person was exactly the opposite…

  If he were discovered misusing his power, his family would not fare well. What had motivated him to do such a thing?

  But Vaughn brought his focus back to what she had said. “They’ve been made whores for the Conclave?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, not yet. I’m also in charge of bringing them food and emptying chamber pots. I don’t know what the Conclave is doing with them otherwise, but they appear to be unharmed, physically, anyway. I can’t converse with them without raising suspicion. But if they were whores they would be with the other whores, not locked up with their children.” She waved her hand.

  “But the whores they’ve collected are housed near the same place where they house the Sedated Banebringers.” She raised an eyebrow at Vaughn. “And that, I think, is where your interest in this lies.”

  Kayden started and turned to Vaughn with wide eyes.

  Vaughn gave him a helpless smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid your help is coming in the form of demonspawn.”

  The man closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. A prayer, perhaps? But he said nothing else.

  “So you do know where they keep them,” Vaughn said softly.

  “Yes. There’s a compound far, far, beneath the palace, underground. It connects to the temple. It’s quite extensive. I’ve never been to that side, so I don’t know what they do with them there, but I’ve heard the talk. I don’t think it’s just keeping them comfortable until they die.”

  At the same time that Vaughn felt hope, he felt disappointment. He had been hoping Aleena would know more of what was happening. But this alone was more than they had known for years.

  And even this little bit was incredible. This was how the Conclave kept the populace safe from bloodbane spawned at a Banebringer’s death? By putting the lot of them beneath a capital city? What if by some catastrophe, all of the Banebringers perished at once? Could they actually contain the army of bloodbane that would be spawned?

  So much for the altruistic excuse for Sedation.

  “It’s your turn, Vaughn,” Aleena said. “Ivana didn’t explain everything to me in her note. What do your people want in return for helping us rescue the girls? To rescue the Sedated? Forgive me, but that seems unwise.”

  Vaughn tried to gauge Kayden’s trustworthiness, but it hardly mattered. Aleena apparently trusted him, and he needed her help. “No,” he said. “We want to bring down the Conclave.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The Intruder

  Aleena’s eyes glinted. “Yes,” she hissed.

  Vaughn paused and raised an eyebrow.

  “You think you’re the only type of person the Conclave has labeled demonspawn?”

  Vaughn hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about, but he wasn’t going to question it. If she wanted to help, all the better.

  “Regardless,” he said, “we need evidence. We have reason to believe that the priests are involved in some activities that would severely undermine the credibility of everything they teach about Banebringers.” He wasn’t going to explain further until he knew for sure. No reason to start rumors too early.

  “And I suppose you want me to get this proof for you,” Aleena said.

  He took a deep breath. Since Aleena didn’t have the information he needed, he knew what he would have to do next. “No. I only need you to get me in and out without being detected. I’ll take care of the rest.” Even as he said it, he could feel his heart start to pound faster. Sure, he could waltz around invisible, but that didn’t mean he was an expert at sneaking. And if he were caught…

  He didn’t want to think about the ramifications, and not only for him.

  “Only?” Aleena asked. “Forgive me, but you don’t seem the type to make such a task an only.”

  “Except for this.” He promptly turned himself invisible and then back again.

  “Ah,” Aleena said, eyes appreciative. “I forgot about that.”

  Kayden, on the other hand, was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

  “Indeed. You don’t need to do anything more than leave a door open, so to speak, long enough for me to slip inside, point me in the right general direction, and then leave a way for me to get out.”

  “If, truly, no one can see you? Should be easy enough on my part,” she said. “I typically work the night shift, starting at around eleven. I enter through the western gate of the palace complex. Be at that gate at quarter till eleven and follow me. I’ll give you till one to be back at the same door we’ll enter through, when I’ll make an excuse to leave.” She tapped her apple core on her knee. “I’m not going to do anything to confirm you’re around. If you’re not there at either time, you’re on your own, or you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  Vaughn swallowed and nodded. “Fair. I’ll be there.”

  And he was. This was one appointment he had to keep.

  At first, he was afraid he’d missed her. He had arrived at precisely quarter till. But after about five minutes, he saw her walking toward the gate.

  True to her word, she didn’t look around, didn’t look at all like she was doing anything other than headed to work. He slipped in behind her as she passed by him, trying to match his pace exactly to hers, so the guards at the gate didn’t hear two pairs of footsteps on the gravel.

  She nodded to the guards, who obviously recognized her, and they opened the smaller door in the large gate, which was closed for the night.

  It
was interesting that they accepted her identity so easily. Vaughn tucked that information away for future reference.

  Aleena couldn’t do anything to keep that door open longer, since the guards were in control of it. He nearly ran into her trying to slip through right behind, as they didn’t open it very wide or leave it open for long.

  The scuffle he made on the gravel as he did so didn’t seem to attract any attention, thankfully.

  She didn’t even flinch. She kept walking, entering the palace complex through a servant’s door. She shoved it open far enough that he could slip right through after her, but didn’t catch it on her way in.

  Thankfully, the hallways inside were quiet at this time of night. He followed her, without meeting anyone else, down a long corridor, passing kitchens, washrooms, servants’ quarters…until she turned and descended a long, dimly lit stairway. It turned several times, switching back and forth, until it finally opened up into a guard room. Four guards lounged there, rolling dice and looking bored.

  One of the guards looked up. “Looking forward to the harvest festival?” he asked, rising.

  “Nah,” Aleena said. “I hate apples.”

  The guard searched her for weapons and then unlocked and opened the door for her.

  Vaughn blinked. He knew that wasn’t true. She had just been eating—

  Oh. It was a code phrase.

  Again, he slipped through right on her heels. The heavy metal door shut behind her with a clank, and his stomach lurched. What had he gotten himself into?

  The door opened up into a large room. More people scurried about here, with only brief stops for conversation here or there.

  No one greeted Aleena. She crossed the room and turned down another corridor, which soon turned from stone to wood-paneled, even underground, which seemed an extravagant expense.

  It was then that she pulled out her own ring of keys, stopped, and unlocked a door. Again he followed her, but it was only a storage room. She pulled a pile of sheets into her arms, and Vaughn frowned. Was he going to follow her around while she worked all night?