Sinnath’s face almost crumpled. He caught himself, but not before Messalia had seen. She smiled into her hand again. He would surely reveal more in his shaken state.
He shifted nervously, as if trying to decide how much he could tell her. He took a deep breath to compose himself. “Messalia, you seem to have a grasp of where Bargia is heading, in general, that is. Can you tell me if we shall experience more unrest, or will things settle down now? More specifically,” and here he hesitated, “are the citizens inclined to accept our new lord and his lady, or will they rebel?”
Messalia smiled enigmatically and looked at the ceiling as if trying to gather her thoughts. She was enjoying his discomfiture immensely. Men thought themselves so powerful, but she, Messalia had the power now. Sinnath would find no information here. She thought on how best to answer.
Gaelen’s actions during the epidemic had gained him a good deal of respect. His popularity had grown as he had moved among the people, making sure food and shelter were available. Still, some had been unhappy with his decision to close the city gates and declare quarantine, particularly the traders and merchants. Their businesses had suffered. Yet, even they had to admit that it had slowed the spread of the epidemic. Some conceded that it had likely saved the lives of family members living in summer homes or further into the countryside. Now, as life began to return to some semblance of normalcy, widowers, widows and orphans alike felt a debt of gratitude to Gaelen. Their fates could have been much worse without his foresight and leadership. Rebellion seemed an unlikely prospect. Yet she also knew an element of unrest over the new regime still existed. She felt certain Sinnath had had a part in this, even though he had not told her so directly.
Her decision on how to respond to him rested on whether it was more expedient to expose him or to protect him, now that she had him in her grasp. She sighed, deciding to bide a while to see which way the wind blew.
“I am sorry, Sinnath. It appears Earth is loath to give up her secrets. The only thing I can say is that rebellion does not seem imminent, though I do still see unrest. I cannot divine where that will lead.” She offered him a weary, apologetic smile and watched his face fall yet again and the hopefulness fade from his eyes. Men could be so easily manipulated, she told herself for the thousandth time.
Messalia stood up to indicate the consultation was over and watched as Sinnath reluctantly followed suit. When the servant came to the summons of the bell, he followed her wordlessly to the door. The guard would lead him back to the hidden exit and lock it behind him. Messalia smiled with satisfaction as she headed back to her bedchamber. He had not even had the presence of mind to thank her. She shook her head slightly. Sinnath was a beaten man. She would do well to distance herself from him.
~67~
BROKEN DREAM
Brensa’s joy at hearing Klast tell her he loved her faded as she watched him withdraw from her again. True, he had thought her delirious when he had murmured those words. But she had heard truth in them, and they had brought her back from death. Now, his behaviour hurt and puzzled her. The few times she had tried to engage him in conversation he had hurriedly made excuses to leave. Brensa knew something must be done about this, but she was unsure how to proceed. Something had to change.
Marja could not help her. Marja understood she loved Klast but believed Klast incapable of returning her feelings. Marja told her she still agreed with Klast’s assessment that he was destined for a solitary life with no ties. His work demanded it. Spies did not make good husbands. There was no point in belabouring the issue. So Brensa stopped talking to Marja about Klast.
In her quiet moments, Brensa tried to unravel the mystery of their connection and what it meant for their future. Part of her musings included examining herself. Who had she become since her abduction? Before—what seemed like years ago—she had been a carefree, naïve girl, full of dreams of romance, joining and children. That girl had died. Brensa could hardly remember her at all. So who was she now? What could she truly expect? Certainly, she would never trust any man but Klast. So joining was out of the question. Unless … but Klast had made it very plain that he wanted no part of that life. But what if that changed? After all, he had said he loved her. Could she do the things expected of a wife, even with him? She shuddered at the memories that evoked. Could she overcome her fear enough to make … that … possible? She dared not even name it. Klast would not knowingly hurt her. Of that she was certain. But if they did join together, she did not want to deny him. She could see the cruelty in that. He deserved more.
She stalled on that thought every time, and the tears welled in her eyes. It was the thought that wet her pillow every night as she cried herself to sleep, the one thought she could not get past. If he would only speak with her, perhaps they might find some answers. But he avoided her, and so they seemed at a stalemate that would not break.
Meanwhile, she watched Marja blossom with glowing health and widening girth. Brensa tried to find purpose in that and in the assurance that she would be able to remain close by. This would have to be the child she gave her love to. She would never have one of her own.
~68~
STRATEGIES
Heads bent together so they would not be overheard, Klast informed Gaelen about the prisoner, Narlost. Gaelen decided not to go directly to interrogate him. This matter need to be handled carefully. The questioning and trial had to convince the council, and the people, that Sinnath had indeed betrayed the House of Bargia. Instead, Gaelen chose to call a meeting with Janest, Grenth, and Kerroll, his top military advisor. He dispatched individual guards to summon each man in confidence. This insured that no one would know Sinnath had not been invited. Such an omission would cause suspicion and lead to talk. Until proof had been established, Gaelen could not afford speculation or gossip.
The two agreed that Klast should not be present during questioning but would wait outside the door, in case he was needed. This would make accusations of a set-up less likely. Gaelen wanted to avoid suspicion that Klast had any previous knowledge of Sinnath’s actions. Some still did not share Gaelen’s trust of Klast, and his presence might be interpreted as proof that Klast had too much influence over him. He was not an official member of the council, and as such should not be privy to their closed-door discussions.
As Janest, Grenth and Kerroll entered the council chamber each one glanced at the man tied to the chair, at first with surprise, then with open curiosity. Yet, they knew enough to keep silent until Gaelen explained. Not until the last member took his seat and Gaelen rose to bar the door did they realize Sinnath remained absent. The locked door could only mean that he had been deliberately left out.
As Gaelen returned to his chair he expected that each had already formed a good idea of why he had convened the meeting.
Kerroll eyed Gaelen expectantly, but both Grenth and Janest took a sudden interest in their hands, uncomfortable with the unpleasant implications they must soon face. Gaelen could guess what they must be thinking. Surely, there had to be some mistake. Sinnath had served loyally for so many years. They were about to be ordered to betray an old friend.
Gaelen wasted no time. “Thank you for coming. You see that one member is absent and have probably surmised the reason.” He indicated the man tied to the chair. “Klast has just apprehended this prisoner at a warehouse, which at this moment still burns to the ground. Earth grant that this is all that burns, and the fire does not spread.”
He gave a nod in the direction of the prisoner. “Klast arrested this man at the fire. He is a member of a band involved in treason against us.”
Gaelen avoided naming Sinnath, as he wanted to have that information come directly from the prisoner. He needed to know if the man knew Sinnath by name, or if he merely followed Markel, the name the leader went by.
“This traitor will tell us what he knows.” The last was said with a coldness Gaelen had never used before. As he spoke he turned to the prisoner. With a low, feral growl he commanded,
“Start with your name.”
The tone had the desired effect. The man shrank back, the whites of his eyes visible, “Narlost, … m … my lord. Please, I … I know nothing of treason.”
Gaelen stopped him on the last word by leaping up and lunging at him, so close they came almost nose to nose. The prisoner would have fallen backward, along with the chair, had the guard behind him not caught it. He squeaked in fear, choking on his last word.
“Silence!” Gaelen roared in the man’s face. “Do not take me for a fool. We know what you are and those with you.”
Gaelen stood tall then, remaining beside the chair, hands on hips, feet apart. Resuming his former coldness, he continued. “You will give us the names of all those at the warehouse before the fire started, especially your leader.” He waited a few seconds and added, “Now! Or you will wish you had.”
He nodded to the guard, who grabbed the man’s hair and put a knife to his throat. The prisoner sat as straight as he could to back away from the touch of the blade against his neck, eyes crossed and almost bulging out of their sockets as he tried to see it. Gaelen nodded to the guard, who backed the knife away slightly but still kept hold of the man’s hair.
Gaelen had not misread the man. He was a follower and a coward. In moments, they had a list of all the gang members and confirmed the leader’s name as Markel.
“We know Markel took a prisoner to question him. Why?”
“He didna trust ’im. He wanted to join us.”
“Join you for what purpose?”
The prisoner paled but did not speak.
Gaelen nodded and the knife went back to his throat, this time drawing a thin line of blood.
“Next will be an eye.”
Gaelen stated this so calmly, Narlost had no doubt of its truth. “He was following orders, m … my lord. We were to find a way to …” his voiced died in a choked whisper.
“To what?” At Gaelen’s nod the point of the knife poised just in front of his right eye.
“To kill your lady.” It emerged as an almost inaudible whisper and a wet stain spread across the man’s breeches.
“Who gave Markel those orders?” The knife held steady.
Narlost looked wildly around the room without moving his head to avoid the knifepoint so close to his eye. Seeing that Sinnath was absent, and none of the others showed any signs of stepping in to help him, he sagged as much as seemed possible with the blade in his face, and, with a beaten look, whispered, “Sinnath.”
It was done.
Gaelen returned to his chair and sank back into it, looking at each of his advisors in turn. Grim resignation, residual shock, and sorrow registered on each silent face. The evidence could not be denied. He remained silent for several moments as if trying to make up his mind how to proceed.
He turned back to Narlost. “Traitor, your life is forfeit.” Then he rose, went to the door and invited Klast in. “Klast, this man has admitted to treason. We have what we need from him. He will be executed, but we need more than this to convict Sinnath. Have you any suggestions? Can this prisoner be of more use to us?” The strategy had been agreed on in their private conference, but Gaelen wanted the others to hear it.
“My lord, the members of his band will have found out by now that he is missing. They will be suspicious. We must arrest all of them before they inform Sinnath. I propose we let them find the prisoner’s burnt body in the warehouse. It will lead them to believe he lost his life in the fire, and so buy us time.”
“If we kill him first, will his wounds not be visible?”
This, too, had been rehearsed.
“My Lord, may I suggest that he be strangled, so there are no visible wounds? The bruises can be partly covered with burns.”
“Good. Do it.” Gaelen made it sound like this was an ordinary decision, trying to hide his distaste. He hoped that only Klast would know how difficult this was for him. Nothing escaped Klast, he knew. But he wanted his advisors to see that he had full command. They all watched in silence as Klast approached the traitor. The guard stepped back out of the way, and Klast’s large hands reached for the terrified man’s neck. As he squeezed, the man bucked and kicked, then twitched and fell still. Klast released his grip and let his hands fall to his sides.
Gaelen was aware how much Klast hated this part of his work, necessary though it was, and sent him an understanding look. Klast had confided more than once that it filled him with self-loathing to kill someone who could not defend himself. Yet, he never hesitated to do his duty. Gaelen felt a stab of sorrow for his friend. He knew Klast would have nightmares tonight, as would he.
“Klast, I rely on you to see that the body is correctly disposed of.” He turned to the others. “My friends, you have heard it. Sinnath has turned traitor. But to convict him in a way that no one can question his guilt, we need more. You will speak of this to no one. Go on as if you have learned nothing. In time, we will have what we need. Let us leave now so Klast may be about his business.”
He opened the door and left. Gaelen knew they wanted to talk, but his exit and Klast waiting inside gave them no choice but to follow him out. This, too, had been part of the plan.
~69~
A RUSE
Klast closed and barred the door behind Gaelen and studied the body, deciding the best way to make it look burned but still recognizable. He found what he needed to do now almost as repugnant as killing the man. After a moment he gave a long sigh, untied the body and slung it over his shoulder. He carried it out by the secret passages that only he and Gaelen knew to a cell in the wall at a far corner, where the smell of smoke would not draw attention. There he gathered a small pile of kindling and set it ablaze. He turned the body in several directions to create random burn marks on both skin and clothing. Then he stomped out the fire and rolled the corpse in the ashes. Satisfied, he carried the body to the passage that opened closest to the warehouse and waited for dark.
He could hear by the faint voices coming through that the blaze had not been completely put out yet. This told him that he still had time to deposit the body before the man would be missed. Finally, all the noises ceased. Klast left the passage to confirm the fire was out and all the people returned to their homes to eat and rest. Thankfully, no other buildings had burned, though he noted scorch marks on the one adjacent.
When he was certain no one would see him, he hoisted the body once more. Being careful not to step on areas that were still hot, he entered the skeleton of the warehouse. He found a spot where the fire had burned, but now had no live embers left, and lay the body face down in the ashes, confident it would be found on the morrow. Then he went in search of a bath and a large jug of wine, not necessarily in that order.
Nightmares plagued Klast, so he slept little in spite of his fatigue. Dawn had him up, dressed and at the stables, preparing for a long ride to clear his head. He looked up in surprise to see Liethis striding purposefully toward him. Something told him this was not a coincidence.
~70~
RELUCTANT HERO
Liethis smiled at him in greeting as she walked toward him. “I am ready to go home, but before I leave I must speak with you.”
Klast’s heart sank, but he managed to keep his face impassive. He merely gave a silent nod to show he was listening and waited. He wondered what she could want with him.
Always frank, Liethis got right to the point. “Klast, Earth has shown me an omen. I am not certain why it is so, but there can be no doubt that it is important for the future of Bargia and all of its neighbours. If you ignore what I tell you, I fear it will take Earth a long time to recover from the disruption the plague and the invasion of Catania have left. To heal Her, Balance must be restored, and you have a key role to play.”
Klast stood beside her, eyes averted, hands held loosely behind his back, his face wearing an unreadable mask. When Liethis mentioned that his role was crucial, his head rose abruptly, and he looked at her directly for the first time. He dropped
his show of indifference, knowing she could see through it.
Liethis smiled kindly. “This surprises you. You have never thought of yourself as anything other than a spy, as someone of no importance.”
Klast realized then that he could hide nothing from her and let go of his mask completely.
“Liethis, tell me what I must do to help assure Bargia’s future. I will do what I may.” Klast hesitated. “But you know I am loyal to Lord Gaelen. Will I be required to betray him? If so, it will go hard for me.” He made no attempt to hide his anxiety. “I owe his father my life. Since his death, Lord Gaelen has proven a fair and apt leader. To break his trust may be more than I can do.”
“No, Klast, I see no treason in your future. Gaelen’s rule is secure for now. If you succeed in this, it will remain so for many years to come. No, what I see concerns your connection to Brensa.” She looked steadily at him.
Klast gaped in unfeigned astonishment. What could Brensa have to do with the future of Bargia?
“Klast, I do not fully understand why, but your connection with Brensa must not be severed. It needs to grow stronger. Difficult as it may be, you must foster closer ties with her. I sense that doing so will also ease the pain you both carry, though the way may prove difficult for both of you.”
Klast felt both puzzled and agitated. He had thought it best to keep aloof from Brensa, even after realizing that he loved her. He believed he had nothing to offer her.
Liethis continued before he could reply. “I have seen you remove yourself from her since she recovered from her illness. This must stop. She needs you, and I sense that you need her as well. Speak to her. Find out how you may make peace with your feelings for each other. She does not hide her love for you. Do not think you are able to hide your love for her from me, either. Lord Gaelen is aware of it too.”
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