The Sapphire Crescent soa-1

by Thomas M. Reid

  Apparently, the man had taken his mother up on her suggestion. Though she would not be losing her confidante and friend, Emriana still felt no small amount of sympathy toward poor Jaleene over the day she was bound to have, being scolded by the master of the House.

  "Em, I do hope you don't sulk like that when we arrive. It is so unbecoming," Ladara commented, drawing the girl out of her thoughts.

  "What?" Emriana asked, blinking and looking up to see the entire entourage of women watching her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother," the girl replied, trying to smile. She realized she must have been looking very morose, contemplating her maid's fate. "I will try."

  It wasn't easy, putting on airs, but she did it because of what her grandmother had revealed to her that morning.

  The sooner I start pretending to be what they want, the sooner they'll quit scrutinizing me so much, Emriana told herself.

  "And do try to be pleasant to Denrick today," Ladara continued, which almost elicited a groan from the girl before she caught herself and nodded, smiling. "The last time you visited with him, you were less than polite, you know."

  Emriana stole a quick glance at her grandmother, who raised her eyebrows slightly as if to say, Remember what I told you.

  Turning back to her mother, Emriana smiled even wider and said, "I will do my best, Mother."

  Ladara smiled, apparently genuinely relieved.

  "Thank goodness. Maybe you're growing up after all." The woman pulled a fan out of her handbag and opened it, waving it rapidly back in forth in front of her. "Mercy, but it's already unbearably warm this morning," she said.

  That's because we insist on wearing all these ridiculous clothes, Emriana thought, wanting to scream.

  It wasn't quite highsun, and the air was already growing damp and heavy, though inside the coach, where they had shade, it wasn't so bad yet. Once they arrived at the Pharaboldi estate, Emriana knew that it would be blessedly cooler inside, where she was sure the house wizards would have woven a spell or two to keep the temperature pleasant.

  As if on cue, the coach arrived at the front gates of the estate of House Pharaboldi, which swung wide to admit them entrance. The coach rolled through the high walls and up the lane toward the house proper, which sat upon a large and gently sloped hill, and Emriana began to stare out the window once more, watching the large trunks of the shadow tops, planted at regular intervals, drift by. Emriana spotted several peahens and a few peacocks strutting about in the shade of those trees. Beyond them, on the open lawn, horses grazed, a large herd of them, for horses were one of the prized possessions of the Pharaboldis.

  Eventually, the coach pulled up to the front of the mansion, coming to a stop in the rounded drive that encircled a great fountain and accompanying flower-filled beds. The home itself was several stories tall, and all four sides were surrounded by open-air porches pierced by arched windows that looked out on the grounds. The whole thing had been painted a warm shade of tan, with burgundy and pale blue highlights accenting the whole.

  Attendants stepped forward from the shade of the porch to open the doors of the coach and assist the women in stepping out. Ladara climbed out first, then turned to help Hetta, with Emriana following to ensure the older woman didn't teeter and fall. Once they were all safely on the graveled walk, they flipped open their parasols and strolled together up the steps, which were flanked on either side by great planters teeming with a variety of tropical blooms. At the top of the staircase, standing regally on the tiled front porch, Anista Pharaboldi waited on her guests with a proud smile upon her face. It was not the first time the Matrells had come calling, but it seemed like each time Emriana remembered visiting, the woman practically glowed with satisfaction at the appearance of her stately home.

  "It's so nice of you to come visit us today," Anista called out as the Matrell women made their way to the porch. "Please, come inside where it's bearable."

  With that, the Pharaboldi matriarch turned and marched through the great front doors into the cooler, darker interior. Emriana followed her grandmother and mother inside, letting her eyes adjust.

  Like the Matrell estate, the Pharaboldi home was a spacious, open-air place, allowing cooling breezes to blow through and keeping the warmth of the subtropical sun at bay. Cool tiles covered every floor, and countless planters contained ferns, vines, and even small trees, all of which were allowed to climb columns and walls, or to hang from above, draping over the sides of planter boxes clinging to balconies or hanging baskets that dangled from exposed beams running the length of the larger rooms. Trellises were used instead of solid walls to separate spaces in many rooms, thickly covered with bougainvillea and philodendrons and half a dozen other kinds of growth.

  The group was led into one such room, a large central chamber two stories in height and encircled by a balcony on the second floor. The ceiling high overhead was vaulted, and near the very center, a small cupola rose even higher, with arched windows set on each side to let in light. A pair of channels were set into the floor of the room, running in a weaving path from one side to the opposite, and water flowed into them from a stone-walled pond, making them small, slow-moving streams. The pond itself was fed from a miniature waterfall, tumbling down one wall of the room with a pleasant splashing sound. The indoor streams flowed to either side of an island in the center of the room, joining together again on the far side and disappearing beneath a wall. A pair of foot bridges passed over the natural barriers, and the whole length of the streams had more planters lining each bank, so that palm fronds and miniature willow trees leaned out over the sides and grew up to further divide the whole place.

  "Please," Anista was saying as the procession followed her to the middle of the room, onto the island, where a large table and a set of chairs had been placed, "Find yourselves a seat. First, we will have tea and biscuit for a bit, and later, we can move to the dining room for a proper midday meal. Oh, I can't wait to catch up with you and find out what sorts of interesting things you Matrells are involved with."

  Emriana found a seat at one end of the table, off by herself, and sat. A serving woman dressed in a crisp outfit appeared beside her, placing a delicate Calishite porcelain cup and saucer before her and filling it with rich, aromatic Amnian tea. A second dish containing thin wafers made of sweetened bread topped with whipped honey was set beside the tea, and the servant was gone, leaving Emriana to her own devices.

  The girl spent a few moments just taking in the room, which, though it was no more opulent than the Matrell residence, was nonetheless impressive in its luxuriousness. Sitting where she was, Emriana could see down into the waterway that encircled the sitting area, and she spotted a school of brightly colored fish, red and blue and all feathery fins, swimming lazily about. On impulse, she broke off a bit of the sweetened bread and tossed it into the water. In the blink of an eye, the fish swarmed toward the bits of food, darting toward the surface and slipping away with the crumbs. Several of the creatures began to fight over the unexpected meal, and Emriana watched as they darted and ran, making ripples in the surface of the water.

  "Oh, Em, you are a vision today," Anista said, her high-pitched voice drawing the girl back to the conversation. "Denrick will be very impressed," the woman added, a knowing grin on her face. "I'll bet you'd much prefer to go visit with him than to sit around here with all of us stuffy old crones, now wouldn't you?"

  Emriana opened her mouth to deny the notion that she would like to spend any time at all with the woman's boorish son, then snapped it shut again helplessly as she spied her mother boring a hole into her daughter with her gaze. It was clear to the girl that her mother wished her to be as endearing and cooperative as possible.

  Emriana finally nodded and managed to croak, "Yes, ma'am."

  "Well then, dear, I think he's out on the back porch, though you'd better hurry. I think I remember him saying he planned to go riding today. Patimi here can show the way, if you've forgotten."

  Emriana silently groaned but got up and curtsie
d before hurrying along, following the attendant Anista had indicated. The woman led Emriana through the house and out onto a tiled and covered porch with awning-covered arched windows looking out over a broad field that sloped down the hill toward a rather massive barn.

  "Master Denrick, the Lady Emriana Matrell," Patimi intoned, bowing toward a man perhaps four years older than Emriana.

  He was tall and somewhat lanky, but with a carefully coifed head of hair and matching goatee that was thick and black. He looked up as the two women approached, and his smile was predatory when he spotted Emriana. Sure enough, he was dressed for riding, and a stable boy was standing at the bottom of a set of steps that ran down from the porch with a fine-looking horse in his care.

  "Hello, Em," Denrick said affably, belying the hungry look in his eyes. "You're looking wonderful today."

  Emriana forced herself to smile back at the young man. "And you look like you're getting ready to go riding," she replied, hoping he'd ask her so she could decline.

  "Why, yes I am. In fact, I was hoping you'd find your way out here, so you could go with me. A picnic with you under the shade of a tree sounds like a perfect day to me. What do you say?"

  Emriana had to work to keep the delight out of her voice as she apologized.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Denrick, but as you can see, I'm not dressed for riding today, and I'm afraid I didn't bring along any other clothes on this trip."

  Den rick looked crestfallen, but for only a moment before he brightened again.

  "You can wear some of my sister's!" he said. "She has scads of things still in her old rooms, and I'm sure some of them will fit you."

  Emriana swallowed, feeling backed into a corner.

  "Oh, well, I…" she stammered, trying to think of an out. "My personal maid, Jaleene, was indisposed today and could not come, so there's really no way I could change without help, and-"

  "I'm sure Patimi can help you," Denrick said, his smile fading as he looked at Emriana expectantly. "Surely it's not that difficult to change your clothes."

  Emriana sighed quietly and succumbed. "Well, then, I'd be delighted," she lied.

  "Wonderful! I'll have Turcan prepare a horse for you while you change."

  With that, the young man stood up and began instructing the stable boy to fetch Emriana a gentle horse and put a suitable saddle on it.

  Patimi, meanwhile, led the girl back into the house and into the chambers of Denrick's older sister, Lobra Pharaboldi, who had gotten married and moved into her husband's estate a couple of years previous. Emriana remembered meeting the woman but once, a long time ago. Patimi showed the girl where the wardrobes were and helped her choose a suitable outfit for riding and assisted while Emriana changed clothes. The girl thought the servant seemed a bit subdued, for Patimi spoke very little, other than to offer a word of instruction, but Emriana was too preoccupied with her impending afternoon with Denrick to think to ask the woman what was wrong.

  At last, the girl was dressed in a set of breeches and a shirt with a loose-fitting vest over it, accompanied by a wide-brimmed hat and durable gloves, perfect for riding. She had to admit that she was more comfortable than she had been in the stiff, sumptuous dress. She followed the servant back outside, where Denrick was waiting, already mounted on his own horse, a bay named Shert. Emriana's mount, held still by Turcan for her as she climbed into the saddle, was a slightly smaller palomino named Goldy. Once she was situated, she took the reigns from Turcan and nodded to Denrick. Emriana had ridden often enough to feel confident, if not completely at ease, atop the mount Goldy proved to be a gentle creature, though, willing to follow Denrick as he turned Shert and headed around the side of the porch.

  "First, well ride over to the back door of the kitchens and have the staff prepare a picnic basket for us," the boy called over his shoulder. "Then we can head over to a spot I like out toward the south wall."

  "Lead the way," Emriana replied, determined to make the best of the trip and not give her mother any reason to frown at her.

  The pair trotted slowly around to another wing of the estate, where Denrick hopped down and strolled inside a back door, which led into the kitchens. Emriana remained mounted, studying the door into which her riding partner had disappeared, suddenly ill at ease. Something was troubling her, something she needed to remember. She couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was, her stomach was roiling with nervous energy.

  Denrick returned, followed by a kitchen maid carrying a large basket. One look at the woman in her simple dress and flour- and soot-covered apron made Emriana remember, and she nearly fell off Goldy in her alarm.

  The woman who had been killed the night before had worked in the Pharaboldi kitchens.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The rest of the morning went as smoothly as Vambran and Kovrim had hoped. He and his uncle spent it in the older priest's office, going through the manifests of the cargo that had been offloaded from Lady's Favor, cataloging it and reconciling it against the coffers of coin and goods that had been shipped out two months previous.

  Standing watch over trade goods as they were shipped from one port to the next was certainly the least glamorous aspect of the life of a mercenary officer, but sometimes, no one needed the services of a professional fighting force, and when that happened the temple found other uses for its private army. Ensuring the safe transfer of cargo and funds in foreign lands-especially in places where the dealings didn't always go as smoothly as the priests wished-occasionally fell on a division or two of the Sapphire Crescent, as did sorting and cataloging the goods afterward.

  At last, Vambran and Kovrim finished their work. Goods had been sold, other goods bought, and after the ship's crew and the men of Vambran's company had been paid, the temple would turn a good profit, which would be plied into new goods to be shipped out again, starting the process all over.

  By the time the two men were done reconciling the records, the sun was sitting high over the harbor, and the day was hot and muggy. Kovrim set his quill down, closed the leather-bound ledger, slid his chair back, and rubbed at his eyes.

  "Another good trip, indeed," he said. "So let's go celebrate with a meal at Dark She Looks Upon Me," he added. "My treat."

  Vambran grinned broadly at the mention of one of his favorite aszraun in Arrabar. He quickly agreed, thinking fondly of the roasted beef and lamb talthaek he always ordered at that particular restaurant. Remembering how the rich, creamy brown sauce literally dripped out of the meat pie made his mouth water.

  Kovrim and Vambran made their way from the temple and into the mercantile district on foot, chatting about the events of the Sapphire Crescent's excursion, the family, and politics in the city as they strolled.

  Inside the aszraun, the crowds were already growing large, but a couple of Kovrim's coins in the right hands quickly got the pair of men ushered into a private dining alcove where they could enjoy their meal comfortably. The scents of the food at several tables made Vambran's stomach rumble as he sat down opposite his uncle. After ordering their meals, Vambran excused himself and made his way to the rear of the restaurant to visit the jakes.

  The privy was a long, narrow room with several private alcoves in a row near the back entrance of Dark She Looks Upon Me. Vambran strolled toward the doorway of the jakes and was nearly knocked aside by a young boy of perhaps nine years who rushed past him and out the back door, into the yard.

  Vambran at first turned back toward the dining room of the establishment, thinking that someone was perhaps chasing the lad, but even as he pivoted, realization set in. The scoundrel had grabbed at Vambran's coin purse on his way past. Groaning in disgust, Vambran quickly reached down and felt inside the inner pocket where he kept the leather pouch and discovered it was missing.

  "Damnation!" he snarled, spinning back to pursue the thief.

  The lieutenant charged past the entrance to the jakes and dashed out into the yard, where a number of wagons were parked. The entire yard was enclosed by the backs of other build
ings, making it a completely private area, with the only other means of egress being a large wooden gate off to Vambran's right. At the moment, the portal was shut. Of the boy, Vambran could see no sign.

  Stepping quickly out into the middle of the yard, Vambran peered desperately in every direction, trying first to spot some place where the thief could have scrambled up and over a wall, or through a doorway or window, but no escape route was immediately apparent. Rolling his eyes, the lieutenant began to move among the wagons, checking to see if the lad had simply slipped into a hiding place of some sort or another.

  "Don't you just hate it when they do that?" came a voice from high up and slightly behind Vambran.

  He spun around and peered warily up to the top of a low roof, where a comely woman with close-cropped hair the color of wheat lounged casually on one elbow, smiling at him. She was dressed in a loose, billowy shirt of fine white linen, over which she wore a magenta vest. Both the vest and the shirt were unlaced to midway down her belly, exposing ample cleavage as she leaned forward to return Vambran's gaze. Her shapely legs nicely filled a pair of snug-fitting purple breeches and were tucked underneath her rump.

  "You saw the boy?" Vambran said, giving the woman a hard stare. "Which way did he go?"

  "Nowhere," the woman replied, shifting her weight and rolling up onto her knees, all the while smiling broadly down at him. "He just disappeared."

  "You're quite the jokester," Vambran said icily, turning so that he could watch the doorway back into Dark She Looks Upon Me, in case the boy tried to dart back inside from his hiding place.

  Motion caught the lieutenant's eye, but instead of the thief running inside, Vambran spied two figures emerge from inside the aszraun. They didn't look friendly, and they were staring right at him. The first was a short, wiry fellow with long, greasy hair tied back with a strip of leather. He twirled a pair of long-bladed daggers in his hands. The second was a big, hairy man, his face mostly hidden behind a thick, bushy beard and mustache. He repeatedly smacked the steel head of a wicked-looking cudgel into the open palm of his free hand. They both stepped out into the yard and stopped a few paces in, grinning malevolently.