Traitors' Fate

by Andy Peloquin

  And let's not forget the man who was running everything in Praamis. That link between the Bloody Hand and the Torath crest is too definite to ignore.

  So what now? Much as she wanted to, she couldn't rush the gates and slaughter every Bloody Hand scum within. That wouldn't solve her problem—how to stop the flow of drugs and trafficked women through her city—but would get them all killed.

  No, if she'd learned anything from her years in the Night Guild, it was that information was power. Too many questions hadn't yet been answered. Was the man from Praamis truly a bastard of House Torath? What had the Bloody Hand promised him in return for his aid? And how was Lord Damuria connected to it all? She needed to learn more in order to find a way to bring down the Bloody Hand's operations in her city once and for all.

  A new sound set her on full alert: the unmistakable clip clop of horses' hooves accompanied by the rattle of metal-shod wheels on the cobblestone. Shrinking deeper into the shadows, she peered up the street. A post-chaise, the sort used by wealthy merchants and nobles journeying long-distance, clattered around the corner. A pair of muscle-bound men rode on the front, with another pair standing on the tail board and clinging to the roof.

  Ilanna had eyes only for the figure within the carriage. In the dim light of the shuttered lamps swinging from the lantern holders, she caught a glimpse of familiar slim, angular figures.

  Lord Torath!

  Chapter Seven

  The man she'd come to call Lord Torath reclined on the post-chaise's plush seats, his expression calm, confident.

  Anger surged within Ilanna. Her hand gripped the hilt of her dagger so hard the leather creaked. This man—the one in charge of the Bloody Hand's operations in her city and the bastard who had stabbed Ria—rode in luxury while the women he bought and sold like cattle were condemned to live in filth and squalor, mistreated and abused.

  A hand gripped her arm, and she whirled. Errik shook his head. "Not now," he mouthed.

  She tore her arm from her friend's grip. He meant well, but she hated the fact that he believed she'd do something foolish, no matter how angry she was.

  Heart pounding a furious tattoo against her ribs, she watched the carriage approach the mansion gate. One of the thugs leapt down from the seat and knocked on the postern gate. A few moments later, a man appeared, and the two carried on a hushed conversation.

  Ilanna's hands flexed and relaxed. If only she had a crossbow, she could put a bolt through Lord Torath. But no, after what he'd done to so many innocent young girls, he deserved a fate far worse than a quick death. And she'd get answers before she sent him to the Long Keeper. When she was done with him, she'd have everything needed to shut down the Bloody Hand's operations in Praamis for good. She'd scorch the earth so thoroughly the bastards would never be able to return.

  Still, it took all her self-control to remain hidden in the shadows, motionless as the main gate opened and the carriage disappeared within the mansion.

  Errik's breath whistled softly beside her. "Well, at least we know where to find him."

  "If only there was a way to get at him," she growled. "With all those thugs for protection in there, we've got a better chance of sprouting wings and flying back to Praamis." She ran a finger over the hilt of her dagger, her mind working at the problem. Perhaps Laken would find a back way into the Torath mansion, or—

  The gate suddenly rumbled open again, and Lord Torath's carriage clattered out and down the street.

  She whirled on Errik. "Wait here for Laken, then head back to the inn. I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "But what about—"

  Ilanna didn't hear the rest of his question. She was already out of the alley and racing down a side street. She had to follow that carriage!

  Lord Torath had gone down the main avenue that cut through Upper Voramis, but Ilanna couldn't follow him directly and risk being detained or delayed by a Heresiarch patrol. Instead, she turned down a side street, one that ran parallel to the one the carriage traveled.

  The mansions lining this route lacked the breathtaking opulence of those along the broad thoroughfare—no doubt owned by the merchant-nobles and noveau riche that had purchased estates in Upper Voramis instead of simply inheriting them. Still, Ilanna's thief instincts couldn't help cataloguing every access point to the mansions. Even if the estates didn't belong to someone with a “lord” in their name, they still had plenty of wealth to steal.

  Every perpendicular street she passed, she cast a glance toward the main avenue in search of Lord Torath's carriage. The avenue ran a circuit around Upper Voramis, with only one broad intersection belonging to the thoroughfare that led to Lower Voramis.

  Her heart sank as she realized the street ended in a cul-de-sac a few hundred paces away. With no other choice, she darted down a side road that connected with the main avenue. She'd have to risk being spotted by Lord Torath's thugs or the Heresiarchs—it was the only way to keep following her target.

  She pressed herself against a wall as the carriage rattled past. Just as she was about to step out into the road, the tromp of heavy hobnailed boots drifted up the street. The light of torches and lanterns brightened the night. Biting back a curse, she slipped behind a hedge and waited, breathless.

  The Heresiarchs seemed to march at a snail's pace, taking their time to reach the side street in which she hid. She shrank deeper into the foliage as two red-robed guards stomped toward her. They stopped a short distance away, swinging their lanterns to and fro as they scanned the street. One actually moved toward her, and she froze as the light drew nearer her hiding place.

  "Come on!" shouted a voice. "Stop playing with your pricks and get back here so we can complete our Keeper-damned round."

  "Shut it, Darak," snarled the Heresiarch nearest her. "Just because we've got the cushy job, that don't mean we can half-ass it. You remember what happened to Holthar when Captain Burnal found him drunk on watch."

  "Aye, poor bugger," replied a third voice. "The Midden's no place for a lad with such a delicate constitution. Last I heard, he was so busy puking up his guts…"

  The voices grew faint as they returned to their patrol and marched down the street.

  Ilanna waited until the sound of their booted feet faded into the night, then peered down the avenue. The carriage had vanished. Muttering a curse on the Heresiarchs, she sprinted in the direction it had gone. It couldn't have gotten far, but that didn't offer much consolation. Lord Torath could have turned down any of the connecting streets. With no idea where he was going, she had little hope of finding him.

  Dismay twisted like a knife in her gut as she ran. She gasped for air, her legs burning from the exertion, but she refused to stop. The first rays of dawn were already appearing over the eastern horizon. The streets would soon fill with servants going about their masters' business and wealthy nobles off to do whatever nobles did. A dark-cloaked woman running through Upper Voramis would attract the wrong kind of attention.

  A short distance away, a young girl—no older than eight or nine—pushed a four-wheeled flower cart up the street.

  "You, child!" Ilanna shouted, rushing toward her. "Did you see a carriage pass this way?"

  The girl looked up from her labor, surprise and a hint of fear on her face. She wore the ragged grey robes of the Beggared, orphan children raised by the Beggar Priests.

  Ilanna produced a silver drake. "The carriage should have passed within the last few minutes."

  The girl nodded. "It went that way." Her finger indicated a street that ran perpendicular to the main avenue.

  "Thank you!" She flipped the coin to the girl and sprinted away.

  "Beggar bless you," the child called after her.

  Ilanna raced up the street, head swiveling as she searched for the post-chaise. Her heart soared as she caught a glimpse of it rounding a corner. She poured on the speed, her soft-soled boots flying over the cobblestones.

  She slowed as she approached the intersection Lord Torath had turned down and peered
around the corner. The street ended in a solid wall after fifty or sixty paces, with a gate that was even now rumbling closed behind the post-chaise. Shock coursed through her at the sight of the men closing the gate: they wore the burnished armor of the Steel Company.

  Ilanna slipped closer, her gaze rising over the high wall to take in the four-story building behind it, and the enormous tower rising into the pre-dawn morning. There was no mistaking it, this was Lord Damuria's mansion.

  Now what the hell is Lord Torath doing here?

  Damn it! Ilanna ducked behind a passing wagon. That's the third Heresiarch patrol to side-eye me in the last hour.

  She wasn't surprised—the Duke's Arbitors or the Praamian Guard would have treated her the same had she loitered in Old Praamis or The Gardens—but that didn't make her task of staking out Lord Damuria's mansion any easier. She couldn't reach the rooftop perch from the night before, not in full daylight with the heavy pedestrian and carriage traffic up and down the main avenue.

  She'd spent the hours watching for any sign of Lord Torath. From her current position, sitting on a comfortable stone bench beside a bubbling fountain, she could keep an eye on both the street that led to the rear entrance and the main gate at the front of Lord Damuria's mansion. But if the Heresiarchs' attitude was any indication, she'd overstayed her welcome.

  With one last glance at the imposing gates that stood between her and her target, she stood and strode toward the avenue that led out of Upper Voramis, through the Merchant's Quarter, and into Lower Voramis. She needed to check in with Errik and the others, figure out a new plan of approach.

  They needed a way to get into Lord Damuria's mansion, past the Steel Company mercenaries. If they could catch both Lord Torath and Lord Damuria in the same place, she could get the answers she needed. If Lord Damuria truly was mixed up with the Bloody Hand—which Lord Torath's presence in his mansion seemed to confirm—taking him out would remove an important piece from the Nizaa board. His resources and reputation no doubt aided the Bloody Hand's business efforts around Voramis, Praamis, and the south of Einan.

  Unfortunately, the hours she'd spent studying Lord Damuria's estate and the surrounding manors hadn't yielded any hopeful outcomes. Perhaps she could find a way to lure the noblemen out from behind their high walls. But how? What would cause them to—

  Someone collided with her, nearly knocking her off her feet. A heavy-set man with a thick beard, curiously dark eyes, and a generous paunch stared down at her in surprise.

  "F-Forgive me," he stammered, nervously adjusted the collection of needles and clothier's tools in his breast coat pocket. "I-I didn't see you—"

  Ilanna waved him away. "It's nothing. Just watch where you're going next time."

  "Of course, of course." With a bow, the pudgy tailor hurried up the street.

  Ilanna resumed her trek through the Merchant's Quarter. By the time she reached The Sour Mash Inn, the Lady's Bell had rung the midday hour. Slipping around the back, she entered through the odorous privy door and up the stairs to her room.

  She took care to step on the creaking floorboard in the hall, then tapped on the door. "It's me," she said in a low voice.

  The door opened, and Errik's worried face appeared. "Bloody hell, Ilanna, where have you been?" he demanded as he sheathed his dagger. Behind him, Sys and Athar also stowed their drawn weapons.

  "Tracking our prey." She shut and locked the door behind her. As she turned, her gaze fell on the stick-thin figure of Keltor, who lay stretched out on one of the room's two beds. "But first, tell me he's uncovered something useful."

  "Aye, that we have," Athar said, with a grin.

  Ilanna raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

  "As per your orders," Athar began, "we paid a visit to the Voramis Hall of Records in the Palace of Justice. You should have seen it, Master Gold! It makes King Ohilmos' palace look like—"

  A muffled snort came from the prone Scorpion. "Trust the youngster to utterly lose track of his mind." With a yawn, Keltor sat up and produced his spectacles, settling them on his nose. "As spectacular as the Palace of Justice may be," he said, making no attempt to hide his derision of the young man, "I doubt the Guild Master cares. If you can't be trusted to stay on topic, perhaps it's best you keep your mouth shut."

  Athar colored. "See here, Keltor," he snarled, bristling, "I've had just about enough of—"

  "Keltor!" Ilanna snapped. "Get to the 'something useful', if you please."

  Athar's expression grew surly, reminding her a great deal of Kodyn.

  Keltor gave the young Serpent a smug smile. "Of course, Master Gold," he said. "With a bit of clever guile, I was able to gain access to the records for House Torath."

  "It was my idea, you know?" Athar interjected. "I was the one who said you should say you were writing a treatise on the history of the Eirdkilr Wars."

  Keltor dismissed him with a wave. "Once inside the hall, I was able to comb over all records pertaining to the Torath family. Business transactions, investments, royal appointments, and such. More importantly, genealogies of the late Lord Torath, his wife, and his immediate forebears."

  Ilanna sighed. "While I'm all for learning how the butcher makes the sausage, Keltor, perhaps you could skip to the important information?"

  "Of course." Keltor's face showed his displeasure, an expression contrasted by Athar's delight at her reproach of the Scorpion. "As I was saying, we were able to trace Lord Torath's lineage back to Torath Blood-hand, and we studied the branches of the Torath family. Cousins, in-laws, and such." His face grew grim, and he shook his head. "Not surprisingly, the noble house's line ended with the late Lord Torath."

  "But I had the idea to ask one of the messengers about it," Athar cut in, "and they had an interesting story to tell. One about Lady Torath's dalliance with the captain of the household guard."

  "Lady Torath?" Ilanna asked, her eyebrows rising.

  Athar nodded. "A few of the other pages and messengers added to the rumors. According to them, no one knows what happened to the bastard—some say Lord Torath had him put to death, while others say Lady Torath hid him from her husband."

  "Rumors, the lot of them!" Keltor snorted. "Unfortunately, my efforts to uncover evidence on this illegitimate child proved fruitless."

  "And what of the crest?" Errik asked.

  "Yes," Ilanna added, "I take it you showed the sigil around?"

  Keltor gave a half-hearted nod. "The sigil is not registered among the official heraldic charges of Voramis. However, when I broached the subject at the heralds' offices, it was agreed that the sigil could be an altered version of the crest of Torath."

  "Thus backing up the theory of a Torath bastard working with the Bloody Hand," Ilanna said, more thinking aloud than addressing anyone specifically. "The Bloody Hand gives him the gold to rebuild his House and, in return, he is their pawn." An idea struck her. "Tell me, how would a bastard son of House Torath go about establishing his legitimacy?"

  Keltor frowned and adjusted his spectacles. "He would need to belong to an established noble family, which House Torath is…or was." His brow furrowed. "In addition, his claim to nobility would need to be recognized by the ruling monarch, King Gavian. Or, at the very least, he would require three families from among the established nobility."

  "Such as Lord Damuria?" Ilanna asked.

  Keltor's gaze snapped to her face, and his eyes went wide. "Lord Damuria?" He tugged at his pale, prim lower lip. "Yes, if Lord Damuria lent his endorsement, that would go a long way toward verifying the claim."

  The picture began to take shape in Ilanna's mind. "And Lord Damuria would have no trouble convincing a few of his fellow lords to back his claim." As one of the wealthiest men in the south of Einan, he no doubt had many favors and debts he could call in.

  "Curious you should think of House Damuria," Keltor mused. "That was one more of the important discoveries we made. Lord Estyn Damuria had a sister, a woman named Roseleigh, who married a young man by the name of Danale Torath."


  Ilanna's breath caught. "Keeper's teeth!" She whistled softly. "Lady Torath?"

  Keltor nodded. "One and the same."

  "That would make Lord Damuria…"

  "Uncle to the Torath bastard!" Athar burst in. His face brightened with the same eager excitement she'd seen in Kodyn's expression as he spoke of the Hawk's Highway.

  "But that's not all," continued Keltor. He turned to Errik. "Before we left, I heard that the Serpents had paid a visit to one Lord Mayharn Stonecroft. Is this so?"

  Errik nodded. "We did, though he walked away in far better shape than most of those visited by House Serpent."

  Sys grinned. "Though, I'd say given the King's dislike of Bloody Hand collaborators, I'd wager he ain't feelin' too hot at the moment." He mimicked a noose. "A hempen necklace ain't a pleasant way to start the mornin'."

  Keltor gave a dismissive wave. "Stonecroft is a name I came across once I learned of the connection between House Torath and Damuria. Specifically, it was Lady Kerina Damuria's maiden name."

  Lady Damuria and Lord Stonecroft. Lord Damuria and Lady Torath. The connections formed a chain that only a fool would ignore.

  "One final piece you may find helpful," Keltor added. "As you know, the properties and estates of House Torath reverted to King Gavian upon the death of the ruling lord. However, to say the King has expensive tastes would be a bit of an…understatement."

  The King’s extravagant lifestyle was one of the primary factors that had enabled the Bloody Hand to gain control over Voramis. As long as they kept putting money in his pocket—directly and indirectly—he remained more concerned with hunting, dueling, and throwing elaborate revelries than governing the city. His Justiciars and Heresiarchs did what they could to keep order in the city, but those not lining their pockets with Bloody Hand gold fought an impossible battle.