She leers at me. “What’s your name?”
“Elder Alderock. What’s yours?”
“Ellia Rosewood.”
“Can I escort you back to your home?” I offer a hand.
She grimaces and dismisses it as if my offer is poison. But then she looks at me. I don’t know what’s running through her mind, but something changes. “Yes,” she replies with a cautious smile.
There is a phantom fury lingering over the realm. The rage has softened, but the damage is done. I tolerated the weak-minded for too long, and it has destroyed us. It leaves an unseen pain that neglects to flee the people. An everlasting pain. Another failure. Never again.
29 Harris
“T
aoiseach, sir, I have news of your current plans of extraction,” Nigel informs me as he steps through my chamber door.
His voice deflates all delight of my morning refreshment, watching the orange sun rise over the Arrow Points to the east. I don’t turn around to greet him properly and instead wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. He’s more hesitant and insecure than normal. He’s on edge. He knows I’m responsible for General Greyson’s death. He’s a man of knowledge, of course he knows.
“There’s no better way to start the day,” I reply. “A dirty scotch and a warm summer breeze. Although, have you noticed a slight chill? The weather patterns have been rather odd lately. Anyhow, thank you for interrupting my serene morning.”
“My apologies, Taoiseach. I can come back, but I thought this an urgent—.”
“Nigel,” I interrupt. He, and all of Parliament, bring out the worst in me. “I learned something new today. And the day is early yet! Do you have a favorite number, Nigel?” I change the subject momentarily. I care not for his urgent matters. I may lead others to believe I care, and I do to an extent, but not so much as these men hungry for more. Hungry for power, greed, and lust. I’ve been at this too long.
“Uh…” Nigel fails to answer.
“Do not fret, Nigel. I doubt many men think about such irrelevant matters. Urgent matters are far more important for men like you. I, however, do. And my favorite number is the number zero. Do you know why, Nigel?” I don’t let him answer because he doesn’t know, and to listen would only be vacuous for both of us. “Zero is the origin of all numbers, the center point. Yet, it is absolutely nothing. And without it, there would be no other numbers. It is nothing and everything at the same time. It is the creator of all other numbers, and from it, there is only growth in all directions. It is a fascinating number. Come. Walk with me.”
“Yes. Of course, Taoiseach, sir.”
I lead the way out of my office chamber, and Nigel fails to speak up. Odd. He wouldn’t behave like this in the Crimson Chamber with the other members of Parliament.
“Well? What is it? You had urgent matters to discuss.”
“There is progress, sir, but they have not met the headway you were expecting. They are unseen and effective, but not efficient. They have kept the process in the shadows without question, but the cost is time. The Celestial Cloaks are as professional as they come. However, this task is unique and proving to be grander than expected.”
He fidgets with his fingers as he walks. There is no doubt. He knows. There is a fear behind his voice that is new. But why? I’ve killed men before. Why does he fear the death of the general? He was a weak and powerless man. That is no cause to fear me. Unless he feels I’m erratic and capable of killing on a whim’s notice.
“How much progress?” I reply.
“All of the townships and villages directly south of the capital along the Forest Road have been extracted along with several of the more remote and hidden villages. However, there is much resistance and unpredictable traps affecting the progress. To better align with where your head is at this morning, the resistance is nowhere near zero. And there is no origin to the rebel forces that we have discovered. It appears to be random, occurring across the entire realm, and the growth is beyond our capacities. The Celestial Cloaks are doing what they can to fight it. And, oddly, they are finding many empty graves in the process. Beyond that, there is still no sign of the girl or her brother.”
“Little progress, indeed,” I say flatly. He knows nothing of my attainment of the McLarin girl, so that is good. I bypass that matter and stick to what is urgent. “So, the facts are Carib Reign is indeed leading this rebellion and he targets Dihkai, which we can only presume is to eliminate the strength of the realm to better his odds.” A deep sigh escapes me. “We’ve had peace for so long. This is both upsetting and invigorating.”
“Another fact, sir. They’re robbing graves. I haven’t discovered why this is yet, but my investigation continues.”
You don’t want to know. And I don’t want you to know. This is the knowledge I’ve been protecting all these seasons. Knowledge that will be our demise. And it’s finally upon me to press harder. “This rebellion must be eradicated before it grows into an army.” I halt in a long, empty corridor, free of staff, free of guards. I turn to face Nigel to ensure I have his full attention. “You won’t fail at this. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Taoiseach, sir. I will increase the efforts from the Celestial Cloaks. They seem content with our current offerings, but our coffers won’t last forever. With your permission, I can put together a few fireteams of the Noxelite and Solite.”
“Do as you must. And as for payment to that rejected group of assassins, offer them a surplus of ironwood.”
“Ironwood, sir?” His face distorts.
I nod my confirmation. If they accept ironwood as payment, that suggests they have use for it. They could always sell it back to the market at a high value, but that would leave a trail. Their secrecy is of utmost importance. They prefer coin. Unregulated, undetected. If they accept ironwood as payment, they will use it for armor and defenses for whatever army they’re assembling. It furthers my suspicions of what side they’re truly on.
“Very well, sir. I will offer them payment in ironwood.” He turns his head down the long corridor, giving me a sidelong glance. We continue walking.
“And of the Dihkai we extract, how do they react? What are you telling them? Where are you putting them?”
“Err…to retain secrecy of these unfolding matters, it’s been rather forceful, I’m afraid. The Hiberneyts have used slumber tactics for ease of transporting, and we have developed a refugee camp of sorts on the outskirts of the capital, sir. When they awake, we give them what information we can and let them know it is for the better.”
“So, you’ve built a detention facility and are holding them captive.”
“Err…yes, I suppose so.”
“Good. They need not know the extent of this rebellion.” I suspect we are only extracting half of what we could and the other half is feeding this army they build. If my suspicions come to fruition, we’ll have to abandon the Celestial Cloaks and utilize the Crimson Guard. If it comes to that, there won’t be any more secrecy in the matter. Tongues will spatter, and stories will grow. It will be the beginning of a new era I don’t want to revisit. “Let’s extinguish it before it grows, and we can release the refugees back to their daily routines. Now, what do you propose we do to remove the rebellion?”
“Taoiseach, sir. That is not my place of expertise. As much as I loathe the man, if you had more trust in the other Parliament members, I would suggest discussing this matter with your second in command.”
Does he know about Ellia as well? No. It’s impossible. Otherwise, he would know of Jaymes McLarin’s whereabouts. He doesn’t have that many spies. He speaks of Kell.
“Or you can seek out tactics from Shambrock. Although unsophisticated, his men are true to him. His tactics and cunning might be the avenue you need to find a way to exterminate these traitors.”
It’s humorous he believes I have trust in him. A man with so many secrets can never be trusted. Nigel is simply a fountain of information. I trust no one. Not even my own Shadow.
“Thank you
for your council, Nigel. I will take care of it.”
“Taoiseach, sir. May I ask how?”
“No.” I come to a halt in the corridor again. “Now, please excuse me. I have other obligations I must attend to.”
Nigel stares at me for a long moment. Fool. He thinks he knows of my entire day’s schedule. I don’t know why I fretted over him knowing about me killing the general. He knows nothing more than what his rats tell him, and there are no rats scrambling within my walls. He’s a weak human being who has gained his position through secrets and gabbing at the most opportune moments. In the end, I will rid myself of his existence along with the rest of Parliament. Soon enough.
Nigel nods his acceptance and departs down the corridor with his head high and a sureness in his step. What does he know? Eh, it is not relevant to my agenda.
I stroll in the opposite direction, turn the corner, and open the door to her chamber. My eyes light up. The furniture is cluttered about the place. Everything has been shuffled from its correct place and tossed about. Chairs are toppled over, curtains ripped from the windows, a davenport on end—it’s a mess! Jaymes stands by the window with an ungrateful sneer.
I look down to see the entire floor, once overlaid with wenge planks, has been degenerated. The hardwood flooring is gone, leaving only the rough stone underneath covered in a layer of black dust. All the furniture has not only been toppled but destroyed as well. There are missing legs, charred cushions, and black markings where she has recklessly abused her talents.
I’m at a loss for words. Jaymes is a guest in my home, and she brings chaos. How could anyone not only relocate the furniture to their own liking but destroy it as well? The disrespect. I stare at her in utter amazement without a word. The room is silent. The scent of decay hanging over everything. All eyes on me as I take a moment to cool my temper. It will only add to the chaos. And it is only furniture. An extreme breech of etiquette, to be sure. But she has impunity, for now, with the value she brings. She is far more valuable than a room of belongings.
“How’s the help treating you on this great morning?” I ask with as much civility as I can muster. “I trust they have met every need and surpassed expectations. If not, give me the nod, and I will see to it they are replaced with handmaids more to your liking.”
I have yet to figure out this little tyrant. She has already been through a half dozen handmaids in a fortnight. Confined to her chambers may be an adjustment, but obliterating her room will not help the situation. I have been nothing but tolerable and generous.
I admit the first two handmaids were lacking, so I shipped them off to the Amorous Artillery who, in turn, will sell them to some lesser pillow house in which they will inevitably end their days before too long. Most primitive men, the men who indulge in their carnal desires at those filth houses, succumb to violence at some point. Embarrassment when they are unable to perform is a common offender. The girls are typically beaten to death out of frustration from their clients. In time, I will see to it that that corner of the realm is wiped clean of all filth and corruption, but one battle at a time.
It’s sad, but it was necessary. I cannot surround myself with those who are incompetent. A man is only as good as his weakest link, so I snap off each of those links as soon as I discover them and throw them back into the smoldering iron ore where they originated, hoping one day they may be recycled anew.
The other handmaids over whom I have given her charge have been in my service for several seasons, since they were just of the age to be worth their existence. They have tended to some of the most pompous and ignorant assholes with good tidings. I would recommend their service to anyone whom I was attempting to persuade. Jaymes, however, has treated each one of them like they are her captors. She has been hurling platters of food and walloping them if they attempt to bathe her or help her dress. All they attempt to do is make her feel comforted and welcomed while staying in the confines of my home. This girl is insufferable.
“Where is my brother?” Jaymes replies with malice, her eyes sneering at me with the hatred of the worst of demons. “I know you have him. I want out of here! I don’t want to become like Astor, one of your deviant spies. Is that your plan for me? I don’t like her, but she’s kind. And you swayed her. She told me all about how you trained her. You gave her the knowledge to cheat death. And in return, you mutated her kind heart into something deceitful. I don’t want that. I don’t want to become your malicious tool.”
I snub her outburst. She knows nothing of why Astor adheres to my authority. I don’t force it. Astor does so on her own accord. Guilt, I presume. And a semblance of debt. And, perhaps, a bit of deceit on my end.
I scan the room, apprehensive of what else I might see. One of the handmaids, Nayettѐ, is half-hidden behind the tipped davenport. All that’s visible is her legs, and they’re covered in black splotches. The other handmaid, Tanya, flees her hiding place behind the one window covering that remains attached to the wall and comes running toward me with wide, panicked eyes. She appears to be intact and unharmed. She shrinks into me as if I will protect her. I grab her shoulders and raptly pry her from my body, careful not to damage her emotions any more than they are. I straighten my attire and turn my attention back to the cause of all this mayhem.
“You have gone too far.” I clench my jaw to prevent unnecessary forthcomings from spilling off my tongue.
“And what are you going to do about it?” She glowers. “Where is my brother?”
She may be talented beyond most, but her lack of control and intolerable attitude are not worth the effort. There will be others. I tramp toward her with an avid intention of making her suffer the consequences. She stands still, unthreatened by my approach, naïve of what I am capable of. If she pushes this too far, the consequence is death.
I grab the front of her tunic and lift her up with one hand so she can look me eye to eye. I remain silent. And I’m grateful she does so as well. I prod about her emotions, exploring who she is. I seize her wrist with a firm hold. I sense nothing but rot within her. “You aren’t what I’m looking for.” I start with her littlest digit, avoiding vitals so the pain will last.
“Wait!” A voice shouts from behind me. Who would dare to command me? Only one.
“What do you want?” I ask Ellia without turning to face her.
“Elder!” Jaymes’s voice cuts in. “Elder! You’re alive!”
“Jaymes!” Ellia’s young abettor, Elder, shrieks back.
I throw my free hand in the air to gesture for him to stay put and remain silent.
“She’s important,” Ellia continues. “You know she is. I’d like a chance to sway you from this decision. Do not proceed with her execution.”
I look Jaymes eye to eye, and although her ignorance reproaches and terror surfaces, she doesn’t flinch or lose eye contact. Brave. Talented. But intolerable.
“You only brought me the girl. There are three of them. You have failed your mission, yet you proceed to make demands. She is a menace. Her talent is not worth the efforts. She will bring us all to a self-induced grave if we tolerate this behavior.” I point to Nayettѐ lying on the ground and Tanya trembling behind me. “She is not worth it.”
“She is worth it,” Elder feebly rebuttals.
“You have no place in this conversation!” I raise my voice at him. He shrinks back. With his sandy-blond hair, freckles, and boyish features, he looks weak. He is weak. Why has Ellia taken him under her wing? “Ellia, how do you propose we proceed? I will not have any more handmaids belittled and tortured by her uncontrollable fits. Look at what she has done to Nayettѐ.”
“Rid her of handmaids,” Ellia steps further into the room and shuffles Elder behind her. “She has no need of them.”
“And her uncontrollable fits? She’s bound to kill somebody.”
“Precisely.” Her eyes narrow to something dark and malevolent. “Put her in my charge. I will train her. I will guide her. I will discipline her. I will not let her get out of co
ntrol. I can mold her into the ally you’re looking for.”
“And what makes you think I’ll obey?” Jaymes spits out another haughty comment.
I forgot I was still depriving Jaymes of solid ground, but as soon as her nasty mouth opens, I tighten my grip and punch a hole through the palm of her hand with my index finger—the same hand I regenerated for her not too long ago—and slowly pull it out, leaving a black ring around the cavity. She remains silent, but the agony waits to explode as her eyes well with tears. I drop her to the ground and wipe my hand clean from her disgusting filth. It gives me no satisfaction. I don’t enjoy torturing, but lesser minds are not capable of learning without tangible consequences. When she hits the ground, her knees buckle underneath her, and she falls to the floor.
Elder pushes past Ellia and rushes to Jaymes’s side to embrace her.
“I might live up to the title I’ve been given by the people. My so-called tyranny has labeled me as a dark and brutal ruler, but I am still a man of sophistication and etiquette.” I address Jaymes lying beneath me first, then turn my dialogue to Ellia as I move closer to her. “I am done with her until she can develop enough manners to be grateful to those who take her under their wing. Even if it is against her own will, I have done nothing but attempt to please her. If she cannot respect my authority the next time I see her, I will not hesitate to end her life. Or worse, ship her to the Carnal Islands.”
I make for the exit.
“Sir, wait,” Ellia pleas.
I swiftly turn and backhand Ellia across the face. “Never command me! Or your fate will be the same as hers.”
She looks up, massaging her jaw, and replies. “Taoiseach, sir, I have news of the threat beyond the Ceruleans.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing I’m not already aware of. By the way, you left two bodies behind at Greenport. Hone your skills, or you’ll be replaced. Oh, and one more thing, you have a new mark up north. Sasha will deliver the details. Bring the brat with you if you must. I will not suffer her myself.”
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 36