Ardent

by Florian Armas

  “I’m sorry.” Jara landed a hand on my arm. “Saliné, bring a towel and water. Let’s clean our ghost.”

  “There is no need,” I shrugged. “I have to use the same way back. Water would make me even ghostlier.”

  “Well… Where are you lodged?” Jara asked.

  “Did Agatha complain?”

  “Why should she?”

  “We refused the stable she offered us. Stable it was.” I stopped Jara before she could say anything. “It may be that Agatha is poorer than you think. Bran told us about another casern outside the city, but why would that be better? And I did not want to be so far from you. We are staying at the No Horse inn. It’s just on the other side of the plaza, and I set watches at the gate to the castle through the night.”

  “I will look after your lodging. Leyonan will not attack us in Valeni, but his spies must be here for us.”

  “Your Agatha is strange. I don’t know what is in her head, but don’t agree to any trip outside the city. I am sure you can find a good excuse.”

  “Agatha is a bit weird, she always was different, but she will give Saliné her land and castle as dowry. I don’t think that she will ask us to ride around Valeni; there is not much to see.”

  “There is something I did not tell you. Leyonan knew that you would travel to Valeni before you learned of it, so his spy is very close to Agatha.”

  “Before me?”

  “The letter asking when you would leave Severin for Valeni, and on what route, was dated before you received your letter from Agatha.”

  “Who did he ask?”

  “That’s not so important.” I covered Garland.

  “I want to know if it was addressed to Aron,” Jara said coldly, and she ran her fingers through her thick auburn hair.

  “No, but it seems that Aron played a role when the man who received the letter was hired in Severin. Sorry, I can’t tell you his name. Only that I was given the letter freely. He did not want to be part of this.”

  “Codrin, I need to know more,” Jara insisted.

  “No,” I said and involuntarily I glanced at Saliné.

  She caught my glance, and frowned slightly. “I am not your enemy, Codrin,” Saliné said and moved away from us, stopping at the window.

  “It’s just that you did not realize it,” I said and immediately regretted it.

  “I am not your enemy,” she repeated.

  “Wait for the marriage with Bucur or until your first child is born.” I could not restrain myself.

  “Codrin, let’s stop this,” Jara interjected.

  “They tried three times to kill me, Big Mouth and Bucur.”

  “Three?” Jara asked.

  “Last fall, Big Mouth again hired mercenaries to kill me, a Black Dervil this time.”

  “What’s a Black Dervil?”

  “A mercenary captain, like Valer. This is how they are called. There are only five captains in Frankis. The man is dead now, but next time I may not be so lucky. Big Mouth sent me away from Severin just to set his dogs on my trace. I did not retaliate until now because of too many political restrictions. You know what kind of restrictions; they are related to you not to me. Next time they will try, I will kill both. Well, if I escape alive from the killers hired by Saliné’s fiancé.”

  “Codrin…”

  “We are guarding the only entry to the castle,” I interrupted Jara. “They will not be able to sneak you out, but be careful; don’t let Agatha separate you; it would be more difficult to cover your backs.”

  That moment, someone knocked at the door, then tried to enter. “Jara, open the door,” Agatha rasped, her voice sounding even more unpleasant through the wood.

  I looked around. Jara and Saliné did the same.

  “Sorry.” Jara pointed toward the bed. “I am coming, aunt Agatha.”

  With a shrug, I slid under the bed, on the side which was farther from the door. Let’s hope that I don’t sneeze.

  “Why did you lock the door?” Agatha barked. “This is a safe castle. Are you such savages in Severin?”

  “Sometimes we eat raw meat,” Jara said. “What is bothering you?”

  Agatha’s long breath sounded strong in the sudden silence. “Your soldiers refused the room I gave them.”

  “They are grown up and can take care of themselves.”

  “In the morning, bring that young man who came with you here.”

  “Which of them?” Jara asked, just to keep her busy.

  “Codrin.” There was silence again, then the door closed, and I heard the key locking it.

  “You can come out,” Jara said. “It won’t be long until we return to Severin,” she continued when I was standing again. “It may be more unpleasant than I thought, but it is for a good cause.” She smiled at Saliné.

  “Did you give your name to Bran?” Saliné asked, and I shook my head, staring at the dust from my clothes, which looked even worse than before. “Then how is it that Agatha knows your name? When we came, Mother presented you as the Lead Protector, and Agatha did not bother to ask us your name.”

  “Well,” I massaged my chin. “We had not met before, and why would someone inform her anyway? I have nothing in common with Valeni. Maybe that someone is here, and saw me today. I have no idea.”

  “You were here before,” Jara said.

  “I don’t use my name when traveling as a Wraith.”

  “I am sure Agatha means no harm to you, but maybe you should sleep here and leave in the morning. Those guards from Leyona are worrying me, and that spy Leyonan has in Valeni even more. You will be safer here.” Jara pointed to a second small bed in the chamber. “The large one is more than enough for Saliné and me.”

  “No one apart from Vlaicu and Vlad knows that I am here, and darkness is safer. The greatest danger comes from an arrow sent during the day. How long does Agatha want to keep you here?”

  “Four more days.”

  “Make it shorter. The less time we stay, the smaller the chance for the Leyonans to plan something. I have to leave now. Put the candelas in that box again. It was a clever thing to do. One more question.” I scratched my head, knowing that it would look stupid. “Is there any long corridor painted light blue inside the castle?”

  “Yes.” Jara glanced at me, but asked nothing. “On the first floor. All the rooms there open onto that corridor.”

  At least the blue corridor in my vision is real.

  In the darkness, Jara opened the window, and I went over the sill.

  “I did not know that the soldiers were so close,” she whispered.

  “They are,” I whispered back. “Try to keep away from the window when you are taking your clothes off.”

  “That noise…?”

  “Yes,” I said and climbed down.

  The route back was faster; there was no undressing woman to excite the soldiers, and they were close to the end of their watch. Valeni was indeed a peaceful place, and their thoughts were probably more on the next hot dinner than at some remote danger. A few steps before the corner of the street, I clicked three times on the wall with my dagger. Four clicks answered back; Pintea and one of Vlaicu’s guards were taking their turn on watch, the easiest one.

  “Bart wanted to throw both Vlaicu and Maxim out of the inn,” Pintea said.

  “I doubt that he tried.”

  “I said wanted, not tried,” Pintea laughed, barely audible. “Maxim left a few minutes ago. Something between walking and going on all fours. He could have rolled.” Pintea laughed again. “We saw him when the inn’s door opened, but I don’t know where he went.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s see what Vlaicu learned from him,” I said, and left them alone.

  Vlaicu was still awake when I arrived in our room. His eyes were foggy, and his movements a little hieratic. His voice was different too, hoarse and rasping.

  “That barrel took more wine than I expected.” His eyes blinked, then blinked again. “I was not sure how many of you were here,” he laughed
. “One, it seems. The correct number, I guess. You will be bankrupt if we play the same game each evening.”

  “Damned expensive, that wine,” I agreed. “I hope it was worth the price.”

  “Of course,” Vlaicu grinned, his smile larger than anything he had produced before. “Give me a moment to gather my thoughts. They are a bit loose. Ah, yes. We talked of course about Leyona. I spent a few months there when I was, mnh … younger. The wine here is better. Because of the sun, I think. It’s warmer and sunnier in Valeni. Maxim told me about their wines, and Bart, of course. The innkeeper has forgotten more about wines than I ever knew about them. My friend … Den, from Leyona, is indeed here. The guard I told you about. Not quite friend,” Vlaicu gestured loosely, “but it doesn’t matter. He came here three days ago. And,” he raised his left hand with a finger up. “And… Bran knows that he is here with two more guards from Leyona. Maxim told me the names, but I … forgot them. Doesn’t matter. Where was I? The wine. No. It was about the guards. They will leave Valeni tomorrow afternoon.” He kept silent for a while. “I don’t know why. Did Maxim tell me the reason?” Vlaicu scratched his head. “No, I don’t think so. I have to sleep now.” He lay down on his bed, and started to snore a moment later.

  Could Maxim be Leyonan’s spy here? Or maybe Bran?

  The next morning, Bran ushered me inside the castle through the main door. Agatha deemed me worthy of it, I laughed inside. If he had some afterthoughts about our argument the day before he did not share them. There was not enough time to get to know him, but his mood did not seem changed. I hope that Maxim is still sleeping. There was no way to wake up Vlaicu in the morning, so I left without speaking to him, leaving Vlad in charge. Inside the castle, there was a two-floors-tall square entry hall, thirty feet across, and two stairways. In the side niches, carved on each side under the stairs, two marble statues were staring down at the door: a huntress tensing her bow, and a swordsman. If the statues looked almost real, including their size, the bow and the sword were real. Intrigued, I slowed down to look at the huntress, the closest statue to me. It was a peculiar marble that I had never seen before; some slight red veins spread through the white part, giving a sense of skin that usually statues are missing.

  “Take your time,” Bran smiled. “Go closer; it will not bite you. Every visitor wants to see them. Even the Duke of Tolosa doesn’t have such statues.” He cocked his head. “Men always go for the huntress. Women for the swordsman,” he laughed.

  I was closer to the huntress, I shrugged. The quality was unexpected, Agatha seemed to be a woman full of surprises, but even stranger was the feeling that I knew that sculpted woman.

  “It looks familiar to you,” Bran grinned.

  “Maybe,” I said loudly, remembering his ‘mace in the head’ problem. Saliné? It looks a bit like her. It can’t be. Agatha?

  “Lady Agatha. A younger version of her,” Bran winked at me.

  “I was going to say that, but for a different reason than you may think.” Like what? He gestured. “It resembles Lady Saliné.”

  Bran stepped forward, and stared at the face of the statue for a while. “You are right. It’s just that we are accustomed to the original model.”

  “Who made it?”

  “Berenius, an old sculptor at the King’s court. When the civil war started, art became the last thing to worry about. Lady Agatha brought him here, when she left the court, and offered him protection. The swordsman is her husband.”

  “He looks a fine man too,” I said, staring obliquely at Bran.

  “He died a month after their wedding; killed by an arrow. He was only twenty years old. Lady Agatha was nineteen.”

  “Oh,” I said. That would explain Agatha’s eccentricity, but it didn’t explain why she wanted us out of town, or the presence of the Leyonan guards. “A sad story.”

  “Yes,” Bran agreed. “She never remarried. Let’s not have them wait more than is needed. The blue corridor. The last room on the left.”

  Blue...

  The first thing I saw in Agatha’s office was another statue of her. She was a dancer this time; her hands up in gracious curves. Involuntarily, my head turned to the right and up, to follow their imaginary movements, which Berenius had represented so well. I almost expected that she would jump from the pedestal to continue her dance. In the corner of my eye, I caught a thin smile on Agatha’s lips.

  The second thing I saw was the man in the vision I had before passing through the gate of Valeni. He was almost hidden by the open door on my left. I stepped aside, trying to give an impression of an unforced move. My hand went involuntarily for my sword and found nothing; Bran had asked me to leave my swords at the inn when he came after me. Probing, my eyes moved over the man in my vision, up and down: like me he had only a dagger at his waist. A man of around twenty-five years old, well trained, with stringy muscles visible on his arms, and an olive-tanned skin. He wore a short-sleeved shirt of a strident red color. A little too effeminate, this olive creature. His hands and neck showed several rings and a large chain. An earring was glittering, hanging on his left ear. All gold. Jara and Saliné were in the room too, and another old man that I did not know. The olive man has more gold than Jara and Saliné have together.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Berenius caught the movement of the dancer really well.” My hand touched Agatha’s statue, letting me feel the marble’s coldness.

  “A hidden art lover,” Agatha snorted.

  “And I always thought that protectors are savages who only enjoy killing,” the olive man added, distaste filling his voice.

  “I have seen statues made seven hundred years ago by Drenus and Paladi.” I spoke toward Agatha, ignoring the olive man, and I moved a few steps further away from him. “The Hunt statue of Paladi has six personae sculpted from a single piece of marble. The Winged Fate of Drenus is nine feet tall, and gives you the impression of flight. These statues are seven hundred years old, but still fresh. Berenius was talented, but not as much as they were.”

  “So you find faults in Berenius,” Agatha pointed at the statue. “Or in the model.”

  “Only an ignorant person would find faults in such a model or statue,” the olive man interjected again.

  “Faults, no, Lady Agatha. A look at another model here,” I gestured toward Saliné, “is enough to see quality and how well the sculptor revealed some delicate family traits, but the sword and bow at the entrance, and the tambourine here,” I gestured to the one gripped in the statue’s hands, “are real objects, not born from the artist’s hands. Paladi used to say that each sculpture he made was hiding in the marble block, and his only talent was to find it. Berenius could not find the tambourine.”

  “Maybe it was not there.” Agatha shrugged, staring at Saliné, and for the first time I felt something behind the cold mask.

  “Maybe.”

  There was a moment of silence, Agatha was lost in some inner stare, and I turned a notch more toward the olive man, expecting another jibe from him. Agatha’s inward moment went away and she frowned at Jara.

  “Codrin was born in Arenia,” Jara said, “and studied in Alba. He speaks all four main languages, and there are many books and artworks hidden inside his mind.”

  “What a pity to waste such talent on a protector.” Agatha seemed to recollect fast. “But that was not the thing for which I called you, young man. The rules I set in Valeni were not respected yesterday; there were some disturbances at the No Horse inn, and refusing my hospitality is even worse.”

  “I apologize Lady Agatha, if we upset you, and we thank you for your kind hospitality. There was no intention to be disrespectful. The room was too large, and we thought that you could find a more appropriate use for it. And there were no disturbances at the inn. The Chief of Severin’s guard competed well with Maxim, the right hand of the Chief of Valeni’s Guard. As you said yesterday, a good match.”

  “I did not ask for lame excuses,” Agatha almost barked.

  “I offered non
e.”

  “Lady Agatha,” the olive man said. “That was unpardonable behavior. If you allow me, I can teach this … protector, some good manners with my sword.”

  “I doubt that he can be taught, but it’s your choice, Viler,” Agatha said, looking absent.

  “Protector, you are a disgrace. You leave me no other way to undo what you have done. I challenge you to a duel. Raise your sword.” Because of the rules, we had no swords with us, but that was the Frankis way to challenge someone to a duel.

  “I don’t duel,” I said coldly.

  “I have said the words.” He arched a brow while talking. “Don’t dishonor yourself even more.”

  “Lady Agatha, if you don’t need me anymore, then I will leave.”

  “I have said the words,” Viler growled, and moved to block my way to the door.

  “Aunt Agatha,” Saliné said in a pleasant voice, “men are too violent some times, and they like blood. We should not encourage what is worst in them. This is a house of art. Art and violence do not go well together.”

  ”What do you know about violence, young lady? Nothing,” Agatha snapped. “If that is their nature, then that is their way in life. And duels are a form of art too. Dark red painting.”

  “Violence is not art,” Jara said, and despite Saliné and her good intentions I became annoyed. “We can enjoy a pleasant day in the beautiful garden we saw yesterday. There are many flowers in the south that we can’t see in Severin.”

  It was meant to fight this man.

  “I don’t see any other way to clear up the affront I have suffered,” Agatha insisted. “A little blood is not such a big price. We have a small theater in the back of the garden. It can be used for this kind of show too. Viler, if he refuses,” she gestured toward me, “then you are free to flog him. Our guards will help you.”

  “What do you say, coward?” Viler asked me, still blocking the door. “Should we bring the whip?”

  “Bring your sword.”

  Agatha had cut off any path I could use to avoid conflict, apart from taking over her castle; at a different price now that a real swordsman joined Agatha’s guards, and with more victims than in a duel. For sure, Viler was not alone in Valeni, and Jara would not have approved of a small war with her aunt.