Could he really hurt my child?
When she continued to hesitate, he added, “Make no mistake, it is his life you’re bargaining for, Draius. Although I’d find it distasteful to kill the boy, there are others who won’t have such qualms. I have people at my command who would kill Peri without compunction.”
“Believe him,” Taalo piped up, unable to stay quiet. “He had my young apprentice killed, over my objections.”
She saw the sharp glance Taalo sent toward Berin’s back, full of hatred, disdain, and fear. For a few moments, there was silence in the office.
“I’ll cooperate.” Her voice was heavy. “But only if I can see Peri.”
Berin shook his head, but she was adamant. “If you want my assistance, you must let me see that my child is unharmed.”
“Very well, you’ll see that he’s healthy and safe. If you work with us tonight, he’ll go home tomorrow. You have my word.”
She wondered if his word was still reliable, but she had a gut instinct that it was. It was strange how criminals could be fickle regarding their morals: Berin might murder without any pangs of conscience, but his word could still be honored. Of course, her own honor wasn’t gleaming at the moment; she’d just agreed to help these criminals.
She thought about her note, and then shrugged away her hopes for outside help. She’d purposely delayed its delivery to give her time to retrieve her son.
Taalo blindfolded her and tried to disrupt her sense of direction by turning her around several times. They took her through alleys between the warehouses near the docks and at times she heard water lapping and smelled canal water. In the back of her mind, she kept track of the turns, but the rest of her thoughts were for Peri.
They were several blocks southeast of Berin’s offices when she heard a door open, felt their footsteps go over wooden floors, then over stone. Now their footsteps echoed within a large structure and she smelled rank, still water.
They removed the blindfold and her heart sank again. Taalo had been right; no one would find her here. Betarr Serasa was not as old as Betarr Serin, but it had been in existence for more than 600 years. Many parts of the city near the canals had sunk, been forgotten, and built over by newer structures. This was one of those forgotten places; behind her was an opening that had been chiseled through the wall of a modern warehouse. They stood above an ancient quay that accessed a murky and forgotten feeder canal. The damp walls were stained with black and green growth that glowed eerily from the lamp held in Berin’s hand. The stains showed how often floodwaters had filled the entire lower quay area.
“Where’s Peri?” she asked.
Berin motioned for her to go down the stone step to the dock, then over the small feeder canal on a bridge that looked new. On the other side ranged stone arches in a row, through which she saw light. Stepping through an arch with Berin and Taalo, she entered a long, large hall lit by lamps hanging on the columns that supported the arches. Perhaps, before it was built over with more modern facilities, this was a holding and loading area for the canals. Twelve robed figures were congregating and milling about in the center of the large space, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Several looked up when she entered and made efforts to hide their faces inside their hoods.
Berin took her across the stone room to a new wooden door, which he quietly opened. Motioning Draius to keep quiet, he took her into a small room divided by a curtain. He kept a heavy hand on her shoulder to ensure her silence, although she had no intention of letting Peri know she was near. If the boy didn’t believe Berin’s story, whatever it was, then he would be dead.
He drew aside the curtain to let her peek. On the other side Peri was lying on a bench, apparently asleep, his chest moving in shallow breaths. A woman sat with her back to the curtain, so Draius couldn’t see her face. She was stout and probably strong enough to handle Peri, should he try to resist.
Overall, her son seemed safe for the moment. She drew a deep breath as Berin pulled her away from the curtain. Back in the loading area, a large wooden chair with armrests and a high straight back had been moved to the center of the room. Taalo stood beside the chair and motioned to her to sit in it. Berin moved away to consult with the robed figures.
“You never told me what happened to Wendell,” she said to Taalo. Maybe Ponteva has already found him.
“Unfortunately, he killed himself.” Taalo grimaced, showing gray teeth. “Hung himself this morning when we weren’t watching. This time we’ll be more careful.”
So they’ll ensure I won’t harm myself.I’ll become some insane beast in a cage, carefully fed, watered, and bled. It took all her will not to back away from the chair. Her conversation with the Phrenii at Nherissa’s tower suddenly replayed in her head, when she noticed fear in Dahni’s voice. The murderers have assumed the Kaskea resembles a necromantic charm.They taint our bond with blood and pain. Taalo might know how to make necromantic charms, but he didn’t understand how the Kaskea bonded man to elemental.
“With your skin color, you should have Meran blood. So why aren’t you volunteering? Not willing to take the risks?” She continued to stall, knowing she was baiting Taalo. After going through the Meran-Viisi records and the matriarch interviews, she knew the apothecary wasn’t Meran. Lornis and Miina thought he’d left his lineal name behind when he was younger than marrying age and before the Fevers, making his lineage almost impossible to pin down.
Taalo’s eyes narrowed. “Regretfully, the Kaskea rejected my blood. You do me wrong, Officer Draius, to think I have no courage.”
“Perhaps—but we all know your sense of humor.”
Taalo barely came to her shoulder, but that didn’t affect his confidence. His chest swelled up like a bird trying to impress his mate. “You’re referring to the rhyme I submitted to the H&H? Yes, I authored that.”
Berin had turned away from robed figures pointing in an animated discussion, apparently trying to decide who went where within a circle drawn on the floor with slaked lime. He was behind her, waiting.
“Did you know this morning that you were going to do this?” She directed the question to Berin.
“I never wanted this, but I try to plan for all contingencies.” Berin’s voice bounced off the walls, even in this huge room. “Please, Draius, sit in the chair. I could have someone force you, but that would be undignified.”
Draius kept a calm outward face, but inside, her anger and fear almost made her shake. She sat in the chair. The high back came above her head and her forearms naturally rested on the wide carved. Taalo immediately started to tie her arms down to the chair.
“I’ve already given my word that I’ll cooperate. Why tie me?” she said bitterly, pulling her arm away.
“The first time Wendell used the Kaskea, two people had to hold him down to keep him from harming himself or others. It’s more efficient to immobilize you from the start.”
While Taalo tied her limbs tightly to the heavy chair, she stared at Berin, letting all her anger and hatred at his betrayal blaze from her eyes. “Having me use the Kaskea will get you nowhere. I might have Meran blood, but I have no training. Wendell tried several times before he wielded the Kaskea with any results. How can you expect me to do better?”
Taalo responded. He seemed unable to let her questions go unanswered. “Not to worry, Officer Draius. We’re just piggybacking on your blood. We’re the ones who have experience and training.” His eyes moved to glance slyly at Berin’s back. “Besides, we know how to remain hidden from the Phrenii.”
Taalo was lying. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t have time to puzzle about it as she called, “You give your word that Peri will be released, regardless of what happens tonight?”
She watched Berin, wanting one last reassurance from him, but she didn’t get it. He made a sweeping motion with his arm and didn’t even look at her. “Get her blood and prepare the circle.”
Several robed figures were at the edge of the lamplight, fussing over something that she
couldn’t see. Others stepped into the circle in front of her. Some appeared to be meditating, keeping their heads bowed. Berin took something out of his pocket and handed it to Taalo. Neither took any special care with the object and when Taalo put it around his neck, she could see the small piece of slate wrapped in silver wire and suspended from the string. It was a shard from the Kaskea, having a similar triangular shape to the one inside her locket—laying all five pieces together would create the original round form.
While Taalo searched through a bag near a small brazier, she wondered if there was any way to use one shard of the Kaskea against another. No, it wasn’t possible, at least from the little she’d learned. The only point she knew for certain, from the Phrenii themselves, was that Taalo was going about this all wrong. As Dahni said, blood and death magic were anathema to them, and to the use of the Kaskea.
When Taalo turned around, she recognized what was in his hands. She knew the brass spring-loaded lancets only from diagrams in her history lessons, because the Phrenii had stopped bloodletting long before the Fevers. In Taalo’s other hand, which he protected with a wrapped rag, was a heated silver cup for suctioning out the blood and collecting it.
She strained against the bonds but she couldn’t move her arm away as he nicked a vein. Blood welled immediately and he put the cup over it. She drew in her breath as the metal burned her, but didn’t make a sound or give any other indication of pain—that would only satisfy the little savage.
Taalo efficiently scraped the cup against the nick, cauterizing it as he captured the blood with the small cup. He held the shard of Kaskea over the vessel and then dipped it into her blood. A humming noise sounded. When he held the shard up, dangling in front of her eyes, it began to glow green.
“This didn’t happen before.” There was uncertainty in Taalo’s voice as he looked inquiringly at his leader.
Berin looked around at the other figures, then shook his head, frowning. “Maybe the Kaskea is adjusting to her. She has stronger Meran blood than Wendell.”
Taalo nodded. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “If you reach the Blindness and encounter the Phrenii, resist them. The woman has orders to kill your son if anyone disturbs our ceremony.”
Behind him, she saw the figures at the edge of the lamplight bring forward a wooden frame and orient it within the circle. On the frame was bound a gagged boy, only a year or so older than Peri. The child’s eyes darted around, terrified. Multiple recent wounds marred his midriff. There was blood splattered on his ragged breeches and muffled grunts of terror came through the gag as he jerked his head.
A child’s life hangs in balance—this wasn’t just about Peri, or her.
“You nameless bastards,” she yelled, jerking at her own bonds. Her arms were tied tight and the chair was too heavy to move.
“Ah, if I had a tyr for every time I was called that.” Taalo smiled and turned back to the circle.
No one else acknowledged her outburst. Her mind raced as she watched the robed figures settle about the circle, surrounding the boy, Taalo, and Berin. No one knows where we are. Taalo picked up a long thin-bladed knife, not a kitchen implement or defensive weapon, but one intended for surgery.
What can I do? She suddenly saw Mahri, standing behind Perinon’s chair. The mind that wishes rapport must volunteer… it must exhibit great need, purity of motive, honorable purpose, and steadfast heart. She heard Taalo say something and Berin, perhaps, make a deep, satisfied grunt as she closed her eyes. Her mind filled with a vision of Dahni, standing beside the canal as she and her cousins swam.
Hear me, Dahni. A child will die tonight. Find us.
The locket pressed down on her breastbone. It felt so heavy; it was going to crush her. She gasped, snapping her head against the back of the chair as her vision went white.
She heard Taalo’s shout of surprise and then nothingness invaded her, smothering her, filling her ears, nose, and mouth. She tried to scream, but heard only a sizzling sound that rose to a roar. She spiraled—upward? Downward? Vertigo.
•••
Perinon was tired and not in the best mood when he ordered the prisoner to be brought to him.
“We can do this tomorrow, when you’re rested, Sire.” Sevoi must have sensed his fatigue.
But tomorrow he wouldn’t feel any better than he did today, not if he continued to be pursued by madness and nightmares whenever he tried to sleep. He glanced about, petulant. Where were the Phrenii? He’d requested they be present when he questioned the pirate.
Frisson Rhobar looked to be over thirty years of age, and was handsome enough to cause women to swoon. His skin was the same value as Perinon’s, but while the King’s skin had gray, dusky Meran coloring, Rhobar’s was the warm brown of a Sareenian. Even though his black hair was held in pragmatic Tyrran braids, he was Sareenian, and Perinon had to remind himself that this man was already into his middle age. Rhobar would have a shorter lifetime than the average Tyrran—made significantly shorter by his vocational choices.
“I’m honored by your attention,” Rhobar said with a smug smile, even though he had his arms bound behind him and a manacle about his neck.
Perinon signaled his Guards, who jerked Rhobar off his feet and pushed him onto his knees. The King had encountered enough smugness for one day, having recently met with Aracia regarding the costs for the new metal gate. The design Cella had drawn was beautiful and when he saw it, he knew his wooden gates would have to go. The cost would be substantial, but Aracia didn’t attempt to negotiate a different figure with the Rauta-Nelja, which irritated him even more than her attitude. Sure, he was attracted to Cella, who wouldn’t be? Yet something inside of him resisted; he couldn’t yet give in to the matriarchal machinations.
“Where are the Phrenii?” he muttered, and Rhobar’s eyes widened. The pirate probably thought he was calling on the creatures to perform some sort of arcane torture.
Well, he’d have to get through this without the enhanced insight he’d have from the creatures. He stood up, and the King’s Guard positioned behind Rhobar forced the pirate’s head down in respect.
“You owe your life to me.” Perinon walked close so Rhobar would have a good view of his boots. “You’re not hanging from a noose today because I intervened. Do you understand?”
Rhobar didn’t reply, his head still forced down by the Guard. Perinon gestured. The Guard took his hand away and stepped back.
“Do you have any code of honor?” Perinon continued. “In Tyrra, we would say you owe me life-debt.”
Rhobar muttered something.
“What was that?” This time, Perinon grabbed Rhobar’s hair to pull his head back, so the captive would have to look up at him. He was tall, so the pirate’s neck stretched and his eyes rolled upward.
“I suppose I can thank you for the view from my prison cell.” Although it seemed difficult to grin when one’s head was pulled backward, Rhobar managed.
“You don’t value your life?” He let go of the man’s hair.
“Of course, but I always want more. A character flaw, I suppose.” Despite being roughly treated by the Naval Guard, Rhobar still had spirit.
“I want the DaniloAna.” Perinon watched carefully, noting the flash of recognition in Rhobar’s eyes.
“The DaniloAna must be a talented woman. Everybody wants her.” Rhobar kept his tone light.
“So your Groygan masters asked you to find her, perhaps for plunder?”
At Perinon’s words, Rhobar attempted to stand, but was kept on his knees by the King’s Guard. “I have no masters! I am my own man and I make my own decisions. Yes, she could have brought us gold, but the DaniloAna was cursed. She was listing to her port side when we found her, and her crew killing each other in madness. I chose to scuttle her, and I let her sink to her peace.”
Perinon believed him. “But not before confiscating her cargo?”
“We saw nothing of value on that cursed vessel.”
Rhobar must not have discovered the
lodestone, or perhaps the lodestone’s evil aura had actually repelled the superstitious pirates. Perinon changed the subject, pacing in front of Rhobar. “So what would be the payment for your life-debt to me?”
Rhobar gave a short laugh. “I have nothing, thanks to your Navy.”
“You have your life—ah, but that’s mine anyway, isn’t it?” Perinon stopped pacing and looked down at the prisoner.
“Are you playing a game with me, ser? What’s your point?” Rhobar asked, his eyes narrowing.
“The point is I can use your life as I see fit. And I wish to use your life for the benefit of my Naval Guard and my country.”
“Sire—” Sevoi hadn’t been forewarned of his plans, and the master of arms now saw where he headed.
“I can be paid to do anything.” Rhobar’s brown eyes were sly.
“Therein lies the problem, Sire! He’s worse than a hired mercenary.” Sevoi couldn’t contain his outrage.
“Our naval tactics can be vastly improved by this man. If he proves himself trustworthy, I might commission him,” Perinon said to Sevoi.
“But he can never be trusted!”
“Oh, but he can,” Perinon said. “He can, because otherwise he’ll be turned over to either the Sareenians, the Kitarrans, or the Groygans. Which would you chose, Rhobar? The Sareenians and Kitarrans call for your blood, while the Groygans want you silenced. Last time I checked, they all call for public execution as punishment for piracy. Some still disembowel their prisoners alive, don’t they?”
“Times have changed, if Tyrran royalty must resort to coercion.” Rhobar’s lips twisted. “And, all the while, looking down your nose at the barbarians in the rest of the Mapped World.”
“I’m merely pointing out your choices.” Now Perinon was using a light tone. “And they’re the only choices you have. You can live a long life in the service of Tyrra, or have a much shorter life with the barbarians.”
“Only if he pledges fealty in front of the Phrenii,” Sevoi argued, ignoring Rhobar. “They will show you his true allegiances.”
A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) Page 30