His right hand glowed and drew a blue letter into the darkness: Z. “You already know what it means.” His voice was now warm and tempting. “It’s the Serpent. Your future. It comes to you now. Don’t deny it, and you will become even stronger than before.”
“Meriaduk,” I whispered. “The High Priest...”
“Yes, you knew my name when no one told it to you. Isn’t that a sign? But I am more than that, and my time has come. I am the second Great Priest. Come to me, Dochia. Come to the Serpent God. He is waiting you with an open mind.”
“Fate, bless me.”
“She will be gone soon; dead and forgotten. The Serpent speaks to you through my voice. Open your mind. Let him enter.”
“Yes, Meriaduk.”
“You should call me Master,” he snapped.
“Yes, Master.”
“Are you ready to receive?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You must fight, Dochia,” Umbra said again in my mind.
Both Meriaduk and Umbra were talking inside my head, yet my vision of the Great Serpentist Priest had an air of reality, and something was creeping into my mind like a hot wave, trying to suppress my thoughts.
“Be quiet, Umbra. Times change,” I said, and I pressed my fists against my temples, trying hard to keep my concentration. One long breath. Exhaling. And again, in a short cycle to suppress my rebellious thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” Meriaduk laughed, “Umbra will receive the truth too. You work better together. Say the words,” he ordered.
Words... I looked inside my mind. “The Serpent came to us in our darkness. His power is upon us. The old Goddess is spent. Serpent, take her away and cast your wisdom upon us, for the night is dark and we need guidance.”
“Aver,” Meriaduk concluded. “Tell me what is happening in the room,” he ordered me again, his voice boastful.
“Eight Wanderers are dead. And three Assassins.”
“How is Ada?”
“Fighting.”
“Tell Dorian that I want her alive.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You may go now.”
The vision departed abruptly, and I found myself again in the room, where death took her toll. Not that I had left it for even a moment, just that my mind was trapped elsewhere, inside the coldness of that sphere. Among the fallen bodies, only Ada and two Assassins were still alive. The fight had taken just a minute or two. Fighting between well trained soldiers usually ends quickly, even when it was an unequal fight, some of the Wanderers were old, and one just a teenager. Ada was wounded. Dorian was wounded too, his left arm hanging useless. Ada was pinned on the floor, each man restricting one of her arms. Someone was pounding on the locked door. No one cared; it was too sturdy to fail soon.
“Meriaduk wants her alive,” I said.
“I know,” Dorian grinned. “One more powerful convert for the Serpent. Give me that Maletera,” he pointed to the sphere. Mechanically, I let it drop into his hand. “I can confess now that we did not want to kill you at the Saddle, and there is no Black Warrant on your name. We needed your mind, not your dead body. You were supposed to join us, which you have done now. Too bad that Valera left this world under the wrong God.”
“Kill me,” Ada pleaded, her voice a rasp.
“Shut up, old shrew,” the unknown Assassin growled. “Your time has come. Be happy that you were allowed to join us. We are the chosen people of the Serpent God.”
“Who cares about rabble like you?” Ada growled, still fighting to free her arms.
“Shut up, Ada,” I said, and moved over her body to the other side, away from Dorian, and, at lack of words, she just stared at me.
“Don’t worry,” the unknown Assassin said, making room for me, after the conversion, she will be born again with a new understanding of things. Just like you,” he grinned.
Just like you too?
His words ended in a gurgling torrent of blood. My knife cut through his throat in one swift move. Dorian rolled aside. Ada’s leg went for his groin, and he jerked, then recovered in a moment. Old as she was she was a fighter. Dorian’s right hand grabbed a knife from the floor, and threw it at me. I did the same. My knife went straight into his left eye. The blade was broad, and could not enter deep enough to kill, but pain disfigured his handsome face that looked much younger than his real age. I enjoyed it. For the first time in a long series of fights I enjoyed provoking pain. I am becoming an animal. I kicked at the knife, dismantling his eye. The knife fell, revealing a dark-red hole in his skull. Dorian lost consciousness but he was still alive, and I was still enjoying it. I am acting like a Serpentist... Then pain came through my numb senses. His knife was deep in my ribs, and I fell to my knees. Ada tried to react, but she was too weak to catch me in time.
The door finally crashed open under the strong blows, letting people in. Help is coming. I rolled over, my hand clutching the knife, staring at the door: two Assassins entered the room.
Chapter 7 – Jara
At the Winter Solstice party, the whole family gathered again as Veres returned to Severin. He was staying most of the time in Aron’s castle. Only Codrin is missing. I sighed and that created a small string of reactions around the table. Saliné’s sad eyes led me to think that she was the only one who guessed what was in my mind. Mostly chaos and unwanted memories. Some wanted ones too... We had no news about Codrin, and we tried to calm Saliné that he had been stopped by the harsh winter in some other place. I hope it is true. Not that we were too calm either. As agreed with Aron, Codrin should have returned two days ago, and stayed for the party. We had had the worst winter since my arrival in Severin, and some merchants brought news about a Mother Storm in the northern areas.
“Would you do me the honor of this dance, Saliné?” Bucur asked, stopping my wandering mind.
How dare you?
“I will not dance yet, Bucur, but thank you, anyway,” Saliné answered calmly; her fingers gripped slightly tighter on the table’s edge.
“Why are you not dancing, sister?” Veres asked, a malicious smile spread on his lips. “That’s why we have parties, to dance with people who are close to our family.”
“What is stopping you dancing, then?” Saliné said gently before I could interfere, yet I knew that her words burned Veres. He was not a dancer.
He is not a dancer. He is not a fighter. Just a hot head.
“I will be soon the head of our house,” Veres snapped at her. “Take that into account before ever disobeying me again.”
“This is our house,” Saliné gestured around.
“Don’t play stupid with me. I am the head of the House of Midia,” Veres growled.
“Are you?” I asked.
“I will be,” he said, meekly. “And I don’t like to be disobeyed. I am not like other weak men, to let a woman decide. Women are not clever enough to decide anything.”
“Who might those weak men be?” Mohor asked absently, pretending to be busy checking the apple on his hand.
“Some men,” Veres answered, defensively; even he was able to understand the veiled threat from Mohor. There still was some self-preservation in his mind, but we all knew what kind of thoughts Aron had put in his head about Mohor and me. “Sister,” he addressed Saliné again. “I am leading here, and I want you to dance.”
In all that exchange, Aron’s and Bucur’s silence was the only remarkable thing in the room. They let my poor Veres do the dirty work for them.
“Oh, Veres,” Vio interjected. “To lead means to learn. Why not start to learn dancing, for example? Bucur is a very good dancer. He can teach you. And this melody is slow. Hear it.” She moved her hand leisurely, in the rhythm of the music; it was indeed a slow air. “Don’t be shy. We will encourage you from here. Everybody will encourage you,” she said, through the chuckles around the table.
Veres gaped. Silently. His face reddened. He breathed for more air.
I have to stop this. Or maybe I should let Veres be taught a lesson the hard way? There was
no chemistry between Veres and Vio. There was no chemistry between him and Saliné either, but Saliné was ignoring him more gently. Vio was outspoken, and her strong sense of humor caught Veres constantly on the wrong foot.
“One day, I will punish you, little sister.” He stared at Vio, trying to make a stern face. Round and puffy, it could not have scared even a toddler.
“Veres, this is just table talk. What is this nonsense about punishment? Are we not able to have a humorous discussion?” I asked.
“What do they know about humor?” Veres gestured derisively at Saliné and Vio.
“We all have something to learn,” I said, as things seemed to be cooling off.
“Saliné,” Bucur insisted, “just one dance. I still remember that I was your first Court Guest.”
“Yes, I remember that too well,” Saliné said, coldly. “I won’t dance.”
“Sister!” Veres growled, and he punched the table.
Inadvertently hit by Veres, his fork flew and turned several times in the air before falling in Aron’s lap. Sauce and meat spread on a few guests. With all that tension, I could barely hide my smile when Aron jumped from his chair, throwing out a half curse, and cleaning his white shirt frantically.
Is Veres drunk? “Veres, apologize to our guests.”
Veres threw a cornered glance at the people whose clothes he had ruined. His stare fixed on Aron, and his mouth gaped.
“Veres!” I snapped.
“I apologize,” he said, and left the table with a venomous glance at Vio and Saliné.
The party consumed by itself; reminding me of my own wedding with Mohor, when Codrin was jailed because of Aron’s intrigues.
The year ended with the same tone that it had started in autumn, after Duke Stefan forced us to exile Codrin and to keep Aron as our Spatar. Aron pretended to be loyal, and Mohor pretended to believe him. Behind the cold smiles, each party worked overtime for the demise of the other. The Duke’s soldiers that we had to host were a nuisance too, at a lesser level though. They were here to preserve what we agreed in the ultimatum, but they did not interfere openly. Once in a while, some drunken soldiers harassed women in the streets, but Vlaicu was able to solve those issues. At the beginning, their best swordsmen provoked our best guards into duels, only to be defeated. Codrin’s training was making itself felt.
“It’s not easy to find a Wraith,” Father sighed.
Gathered in the council room with Mohor and Father we were writing letters to some people we knew, asking about Codrin. Our first couriers had already gone and come back from several towns around Severin County, in the three weeks following the Winter Solstice. All returned empty-handed.
The door opened, and we turned in silence; Mohor had left word we were not to be disturbed.
“I apologize,” Vlaicu said, “but I thought this to be an emergency. He pushed forward Vio, holding up her limp body.
“What happened?” I jumped from my chair. Vio was beaten hardly, her face bruised, and her lips swollen. A trace of blood trickled down from the left corner of her mouth. I took her in my arms and arranged her small body on the table.
“Veres,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked, incredulously.
“I caught Veres and two of Aron’s soldiers beating Vio. The soldiers were immobilizing her arms while Veres punched her. I arrested the soldiers.”
“Father, call Felcer,” I asked for the castle’s doctor.
“It’s not needed,” Vio said, and got down from the table. “Just a few punches. Without those two soldiers…”
“Vio,” I complained. Veres is a monster, but you have a share of the guilt too.
“The soldiers came up behind me and immobilized me. Then Veres was finally able to catch me. At least I know now what to expect from my lovely brother.”
“I know what he can expect. Jail,” I growled.
“I will not ask for it, but neither I will complain,” Vio tried to smile. “Ouch,” she cried, and her hand pressed on her swollen lips.
“Put Veres in jail too,” Mohor ordered Vlaicu, who went out, and I escorted Vio to see Felcer. It turned out that she needed only some cold compresses.
“How long should we keep them in jail?” I sighed, when I returned in the council room.
“That was a deliberate move,” Mohor said cautiously.
“Of course it was. It’s payment for Vio not letting Bucur sneak alone into Saliné’s room when Codrin came after defeating Orban. And that awful scene at the Solstice Party. But it’s more than that too,” I breathed, trying to calm myself. “Aron knows that you can’t keep his men in jail much longer than Veres stays there, and he expects to split my family even more. And he wants to prove you weak.”
“I don’t think that jail is the proper punishment in this case,” Father interjected. “As you said,” he gestured toward me, “Veres will be even more resentful when he leaves jail. We need a punishment that burns and make him, let’s say ... proud. He will become a Knight six months from now.”
“And head of the family in one year,” I said derisively.
“Technically, yes, he will become the head of Midia House. I will still remain the head of Mushat house, and that will have some advantages. Let’s treat him as if he is a knight already. We will set up a Knight Court. You and me would be enough,” he said to Mohor. “Aron will ask to be involved too, but we will set the stakes higher. Seigneur,” he pointed at Mohor. “Former Grand Seigneur,” he pointed at himself.
“The usual punishment for a Knight hitting a defenseless woman is whipping in public and jail. Veres has not much tolerance to pain,” I said, thoughtfully. “We should plan for a ... ‘gentle’ whipping, so he can brag after that about being a tough man.”
“Yes,” Father said. “What about Aron’s men? Because of the Duke’s pressure, we can’t execute them, even when the law allows that. Two commoners have attacked a Signora.”
“They would hide behind obeying Veres’s orders,” Mohor said, “but if the one who ordered them is punished they should be too. There are several smaller punishments in the law... Cutting off the left hand, for example. That will fit. Bolon is Aron’s second best swordsman, and he is left-handed. When should we gather the Knight Council? Tomorrow?”
“No,” I said. “In one week from now. Let them stay in jail for a while . And no favors for Veres. He should be treated like a commoner.”
“One week,” Mohor agreed, and his hand engulfed mine. “It’s bad, but we passed through even worse things before.”
All I could do was to nod before leaving the room to see Vio again. I found her in Saliné’s arms, trying to tell the whole story, about the slow Veres running to catch her, without laughing. Her lips were hurting, and I had to bit mine to stop a smile.
“Mother,” Saliné entered my office in a state of distress that I had never seen before. It was a day after our Knight Court had decided the punishments for Veres and Aron’s thugs.
Veres is a thug too… “What happened? Are you harmed?” I asked, jumping from my chair to take her in my arms. Vio’s beaten face flashed in my mind, before realizing that Saliné was not harmed physically.
“I am fine, but I beg you to not ask me what happened. Not now, and not later.”
“What?”
“Please, Mother,” she pleaded, her eyes filled with tears, and I nodded in silence. “I met some people today. Aurelian, the Sage, was one of them. They came to me while I was walking in the garden.”
“How did they...?” Not now. Continue, I gestured at Saliné.
“Sage Aurelian wanted me to deliver a message to you.” Saliné moistened her lips. “There is ... there is a reassessment of power around us, and Aron’s status will be enhanced, and Bucur’s too,” she whispered, no longer able to command her voice. “Please don’t cut off the hands of those two men. It will … it will put us in a great danger.”
“That must be Duke Stefan’s work, and I am accustomed to danger. I have been all my life. We
must punish Aron’s men; they attacked your sister.”
“Yes, they deserve it, but do not cut off their hands. I was asked to convey this to you. We are in great danger.”
What else did they say to her? What could make her so distressed? She is so good in keeping her composure. “We will think of something. Now...”
“Thank you, Mother,” she stopped me. “Please allow me to leave.” Before I could answer, she left my arms and turned swiftly, then walked out of the room, almost running, leaving me speechless.
In a damned state of mind, I went to the window, to get some relief. The night had already fallen upon the world. There were no stars, no moon, only darkness.
“Jara.” Father startled me.
“Sorry,” I said, turning. “I did not hear you. Something happened to Saliné.”
“Is it an urgent matter?” he asked, and I shook my head. “We have news about Codrin. He was seen, a month ago, riding north-west with Vlad and Pintea. Valer is here.” Father stopped me asking for more information. “He wants to speak with you too. Come.” In silence, I followed him, unable to forget the desperation on Saliné’s face.
From the way he acted, Valer could have been a Seigneur. We had no knowledge about his family name. In fact, with all our efforts to find out about his past, after realizing his value when his band of mercenaries fought for us, we knew almost nothing about him. He was not a large man, but the stance of his body and every line of his face told the same story: a man born to lead and command.
“Lady S’Severin.” He stood up, bowing slightly. Standing, his body let me observe something that was not apparent when he was sitting in the chair behind Father’s desk: he was dressed like a ruffian, his ragged clothes seemingly made before I was born. “I know,” he said, amused, with a curl of his lips. “I have a rascally look. Sometimes you travel like a Seigneur, sometimes like a beggar. It’s part of my ... life.”
“Well,” I said, after a short silence. “Any half-astute observer would see the man behind the beggar.”
“Thank you, Lady S’Severin.” There was a queer gleam in his eyes, but with all of it I was sure he appreciated my words.
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