Blood of Jackals

by Todd Marcelas Moreno

  Lilth entered the room still talking to an aide. “The coronation will be ready to go on as scheduled. Tell the Lord Chamberlain: I will hold him personally responsible for any delays.”

  “Yes, m’Lady,” the aide said, bowing. Lilth dismissed him with a wave.

  “Some might think it odd to prepare for a coronation when the star of the show is still missing,” Jordan said.

  “Derrick should be out of the way long before then,” Lilth replied. “Besides, for the purposes of the party organizers, it should not matter who is crowned.”

  “And for our purposes?”

  Lilth ignored the question and sat down on a nearby sofa. A servant immediately brought her a tray of refreshments. Jordan was about to speak when he caught sight of his sister’s snake. The snake glided into the room as servants brought in a large, caged rodent.

  “It is dinner time,” Lilth explained, bringing a glass to her red-painted lips.

  As the snake neared its helpless meal, it stopped to look at the little boy Melvinor. Glancing back at the caged rodent and then back at the boy, the snake made its way to the child.

  “Only I do not know what I want,” Lilth continued. “Do you, Jordan?”

  With a cry, the boy tried to run, but the snake was too fast. The multicolored building blocks he had been playing with were scattered across the floor.

  “I heard that Cary is engaged to be married,” Jordan said evenly as the boy and the snake wrestled on one of the carpets. He was in no mood for word games.

  “He is old enough certainly,” Lilth replied. “The bride is sufficiently pretty, and comes from a good family.”

  “One of the wealthiest local families on Legan,” Jordan said. Behind him, the noise of the struggle between the boy and the snake grew louder.

  “You have your pending marriage arrangement with House Tehasing,” said Lilth. “And it is no longer quite secret. Do you object to Cary getting married?”

  The battle between boy and snake fumed as they thrashed about the room.

  “No, marriage would be good for him. But this one seems…a tad political.”

  “Royal marriages tend to be that way. What is your concern?”

  “Timing. Should we hold royal festivities while Derrick is still missing?”

  “Are you really so worried about rivals for the throne, Jordy?” Lilth asked, turning toward the fight across the room. “Quiet!” she yelled. “Both of you.”

  The psychically amplified words startled both combatants. The snake and the boy faced Lilth at the same time, the boy’s eyes wide and fearful. Both kept still under her glare. Once Lilth turned back to Jordan however, the snake gave a quick squeeze of its coils, drawing a small squeak from the thrice-encircled boy.

  “Cary cannot take the Possór name –or the throne– absent an emergency,” Lilth continued. “You know that. It is in my marriage contract.”

  “With ‘emergency’ being nowhere defined,” said Jordan. “And even Curin knows that renouncing the Morays name could lead him to a greater patrimony under House Possór.” Lilth expelled her breath and looked skyward.

  “Jordan, do you think I would put Cary on the throne before you?”

  “No, but Cary—”

  “Will only do as I tell him,” Lilth finished.

  Jordan went silent.

  “Now go, Jordan,” Lilth said finally. “Straighten out this mess with the Consortium and the Brotherhood, before it gets out of hand.”

  “You mean, the Consortium and the NDB Church,” Jordan corrected. The destruction of the main DuCideon planetary complex could only mean that the NDB had made their final move. As a separate entity, the DuCideon Brotherhood on Legan existed no more.

  “Whatever,” Lilth replied.

  “Fine,” Jordan said, “but what about Guishaun?”

  “Forget about him,” she said, waving him away. “Let the poor boy have his twirl in the sun. He will be sent back down to his ever-nether world soon enough.”

  Jordan grunted his satisfaction and walked away.

  Lilth took another drink as she watched her brother depart. When he was gone, she glanced back at her snake and the boy. They remained frozen in the same position as before.

  “You may resume your play,” Lilth said, taking another drink.

  The snake and the boy slowly turned to look at one another. After a moment of cool appraisal, the snake’s tongue flickered.

  - - -

  XII

  Guishaun walked leisurely out of the Palace conference hall, allowing Dorian to take up an attending position behind him without breaking stride.

  “That went well,” Guishaun projected. “Uncle Jordan isn’t as popular with the local nobility as he thinks. We can tell the Consortium and Brotherhood...I mean, the NDB Church, that I would be amendable to granting an audience now.”

  “That’s one of the things I need to tell you,” Dorian replied. “It seems they took offense at your initial coolness, and have decided to by-pass you. I just received word from all three that they will be dealing directly with your father.”

  Guishaun stopped and turned toward his friend. He was about to speak when he caught Jordan Possór’s eye. His uncle had been watching them. Jordan smiled.

  He knows, damn him, Guishaun thought. About my meeting, about the Consortium, the Brotherhood, and the NDBs. Guishaun resumed walking, nodding to his uncle as he passed.

  “We need to return home, Dorie,” Guishaun said. “They have gotten to the Old Fool, and ensnared him in this game of theirs. I need to speak with him.”

  “All is ready,” Dorian replied.

  - - -

  Couri Valmont was not an exceptionally short man. Nor was he particularly slight of build. But his manner and movements both contributed to a diminutive demeanor, one that was accentuated by his high-pitched voice, and a soft delivery of precise pronunciation. The overall effect made many underestimate him.

  But not Henrald Steuben. He knew that Valmont was the family name of the man’s mother. His real name was Courell Wyren, and he was the son of Bishop Chais Wyren, the NDB patriarch of Legan.

  The estranged son, Steuben reminded himself. Again he wondered how the man, with his wide-brimmed hat and neck scarf, had overcome such a political obstacle to become a ranking member of the NDB-backed rebel leadership.

  “All military maneuvers and exercises are proceeding on schedule,” Steuben continued, having resumed his supposed role as one of the rebels’ informants within the Possór government. “And a normal alert status is being maintained. All in all, an oddly restrained response to this crisis.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Steuben,” Couri Valmont said, seeming neither pleased nor displeased by Steuben’s report.

  Steuben nodded, catching Taniell Kamarin’s stare. He returned her gaze as another rebel gave a report. If only Steuben had left for Landsig before the rebel courier had delivered his summons to another worthless meeting. True, the rebels had been gathering followers, money and weapons in the months since Seffan Possór’s trial, but so far, the rebel leadership —including their resident Assembly member— had kept silent on its long-term plans. Did they truly intend full-scale insurrection? Possibly, given the resources they were collecting. But then why were they waiting? Derrick had been no more responsive to their economic demands than his father, and no other contender for the throne could be expected to be more “compassionate,” especially given the current government finances.

  “Lord Derrick’s government purge cost us key infiltration positions,” Valmont said, the unnatural pitch of his voice still commanding silent curiosity amongst most of the rebel unit. “But the public has looked favorably upon it. Not even his austerity program has materially diminished his popularity. Cleaning up Seffan Possór’s excesses has given the new government a lot of political cover. Now Legan learns that its beloved young new ruler has been kidnapped, and its government is once again in crisis. Where does that leave us?”

  “We have been quiet f
or too long,” one man said.

  “Yes. It’s time we increased our visibility,” said another.

  “And if we get blamed for the kidnapping?” asked a woman.

  “If we start causing trouble now,” Colonel Steuben began, his eyes still on Kamarin, “how would we avoid looking like opportunists?”

  The noise in the room stopped.

  “Are you suggesting that the people of Legan would frown upon us for kicking the Count-Grandee’s government while it is down?” Valmont asked.

  “Isn’t that why the Assembly doesn’t plan on any disruptive activities until this kidnapping thing is resolved?” Steuben asked, eying the rebel commander.

  “Yes,” Valmont confirmed. “For now, we concentrate on placing operatives and developing resources within the government. Our real opportunity here is infiltration and growth. Which reminds me,” he turned to Kamarin. “Keep Galleston quiet, Taniell. Let us save the bloody shirt waving for later.”

  “Very well,” Kamarin replied curtly, glancing at Valmont before returning her stare to Steuben. Steuben flashed her a tight smile.

  “As for you, Colonel,” Valmont resumed, his head turning like that of a turtle, “the Assembly has a special assignment in mind, with a new independent status.”

  Steuben nodded, concealing his wariness. He had asked for a looser connection to Kamarin’s unit for more freedom of action. No one had mentioned any special assignments.

  Watching Kamarin from the side, Valmont resumed: “Find us Lord Derrick.”

  “What?” Steuben asked. “The government has an army looking for him.”

  “Really?” Valmont replied. “We have heard that there are some within House Possór who would rather he not be found. At least not by anyone except them.”

  “That would only make the job more difficult,” Steuben said cautiously.

  “We know your skill as a field operative, Colonel,” Valmont assured him. “And your preference to work alone. However, the Assembly is giving you special command authority, to augment the government resources at your disposal. You may even temporarily take a cell unit as your own.” He settled back in his chair. “Given your familiarity with Taniell’s people...”

  Kamarin stiffened and turned to Valmont.

  “It will be a good assignment for your team, Taniell,” he said, cutting off her objection. “Once Galleston is pacified.”

  Steuben knew how much the order galled Kamarin. Had she and Lenalt, her dead protégé, been successful during their Galleston mission, she might have been conducting this meeting instead of Valmont. How did the man advance so quickly amongst the rebels? “What will be the extent of my authority regarding Lord Derrick?” Steuben asked, careful not to smile at Kamarin’s apparent demotion.

  “Anything we can provide is yours, Colonel,” Valmont replied. “You will still answer to me, of course, and I will be your contact with the Assembly. You will be held accountable however, Colonel, by Taniell, who will be making independent reports on your progress.”

  “Naturally,” Steuben murmured. “No doubt I am to begin immediately.”

  “If we can rescue Lord Derrick,” Valmont said with a nod, “our struggle for equal fairness will enter a whole new phase.”

  Steuben wondered if “rescue” was what Valmont truly had in mind.

  “Is there anything else?” Valmont asked, looking about the room. While several rebels watched the obviously fuming Kamarin, no one said a word. “Very well. We are adjourned.”

  “Well Taniell,” Steuben said, turning toward his former superior within the rebel cause. “It looks like we are still together.”

  “Now I know why you turned the Assembly down when they offered you my unit,” Taniell accused.

  “So they told you about that. Well, you wanted Lenalt to replace you when you retired, not me,” Steuben said. “Besides, I do prefer to work alone.”

  “And unseen,” Taniell remarked. “I will be watching you though. The Assembly can do what it wants, but I still don’t trust you.”

  “Not even to find Lord Derrick?”

  “Your finding him doesn’t concern me so much as what you’d do afterward.”

  “I know there is a compliment in there somewhere, Taniell,” Steuben said with a smile.

  “I never said you weren’t good,” Kamarin said, standing from her chair. “But don’t be too quick to think it’s a compliment.”

  Steuben laughed as Kamarin walked away. “We’ll be in contact, Taniell,” he called after her, still chuckling.

  - - -

  Riding back to the house of Jair’s mother, Derrick felt his arm throb with every heartbeat. It was a clean gash, and if not for his refusal to let the Fiskin Brothers learn that his horse had thrown him, he would have tended to it immediately. As it was, he could only curse the snake that had spooked his mount, and keep applying pressure to the wound as he entered the house.

  Seeing no one in the front rooms, he proceeded to the back, hoping to find someone who could tell him where some bandages and ointment might be. His boots soft on the firm, rugged floor, Derrick opened one of the half-parted doors. “Excuse me, do you have any—?”

  To her credit, Kaela Meres did not scream, even though Derrick had now seen almost all there was to see of her.

  “Sorry!” Derrick cried, turning around before Kaela could even move to cover herself. Retrieving an old robe, Kaela carefully watched Derrick, who remained turned around with his eyes closed. “I only came back early to see if you had any bandages,” Derrick explained, her continued silence unnerving him.

  Kaela nearly laughed at his embarrassment. “It’s alright, Angren,” she said finally. “My brothers have seen me before, and I’ve seen them. This house isn’t that big. You can open your eyes now, by the way.”

  Derrick complied, his face still flushed. “I hurt my arm and—”

  “Let me look at it,” she ordered, reaching out to him.

  Instinctively he brought his arm in close, only to let her push back his damaged shirtsleeve and examine the wound. The skin of her hands was warm and soft, her breath sweet.

  “Do you have any oinkment—err, I—I—I mean, ointment or—”

  “I can heal this,” Kaela declared. “Let’s clean it first though.”

  After leading him to another room, Kaela searched through some bottles in a cabinet. “You know, Angren,” she said, finding what she sought. “I never told you how sweet it was of you to beat up Nave Fiskin over what he said about me.”

  “It was... Jair was mad at me over it,” Derrick replied. Seeing her eye the buttons of his shirt, Derrick hastily rolled his torn sleeve as high as it could go.

  “Well for all his City ways,” Kaela remarked, touching Derrick’s arm with something that burned enough to make his eyes water, “Jair knows little about how to properly treat a lady.” Kaela’s robe began to slip about her shoulders as she finished cleaning Derrick’s wound.

  “You know, Kaela,” Derrick said, keeping his eyes on his arm, “this will be fine. Do you have anything I can use as a bandage—?”

  “Oh no, I’m healing this, Angren.” Kaela bent down to look up at Derrick’s eyes, her robe opening further. “For practice. Then you can go back to work.”

  “But—!”

  Kaela grabbed his arm with both her hands and brought it toward her. While the pressure around his wound hurt initially, soon it was gone, replaced with a throbbing absence. It was as if with every heartbeat, the damage to his arm was being healed outward from the point of deepest injury. When Kaela finally released his arm from between her robe-covered breasts, the skin where his wound once ached was closed, with no visible scar.

  “Thank you, Kaela,” Derrick said, amazed at what she had done.

  “Our local healer has been teaching me,” Kaela replied, again leaning forward. “I have a confession to make though.”

  “Confession?” Derrick began to lean back away from her.

  “As I healed you, I also read how you fee
l about me.” She licked her lips.

  If he pulled back more, Derrick would have fell from his chair. “Kaela—!”

  Kaela thrust herself forward to kiss him. Derrick fell back over his chair, with Kaela following him to the floor and pinning him down.

  “Kaela!” Derrick managed between kisses. “We cannot… if I… Jair—!”

  “I think he’d rather you kiss me than him,” Kaela giggled, bending to kiss him again as she ripped open his shirt. Her breasts were as warm as her hands.

  “Yes, but... he said he would feed me to the pigs if I so much as touched you.”

  “We don’t have any pigs.”

  “Apparently that is a problem easily overcome.”

  Kaela stopped her fun as Derrick lay still. “Jair said to stay away from me?”

  “Not exactly. He only implied that he would kill me if I did not.”

  Kaela stood up with a huff. “Then I’m just going to have to have a little talk with him,” she said, pulling her robe closed again as she left.

  Derrick dared not move until he was sure that she was gone.

  - - -

  After having taken a winding, complicated path home from his meeting with the rebels, Couri Valmont arrived at his residence hotel in a dour mood. He hated the precautions his position required, resenting having to thwart possible pursuers. Were it not for his important political and financial contacts outside the rebel movement, he might have disappeared completely behind the Assembly’s protective multi-layered network of supporters and safehouses.

  “Mr. Couri,” the manager called as Valmont walked in. “A lady’s here to see you.” He answered Valmont’s unspoken question. “Says she’s your mother.”

  A woman stepped out of an adjacent sitting room and came toward him before Valmont could respond. “Oh, Couri,” she said, hugging him close.