Yet despite their seeming bond, they had never actually discussed whether their relationship included romantic feelings. Ana’s thoughts went to the previous night, when she and Teo had enjoyed such an idyllic evening on Fisherman’s Isle. True, he had complimented her looks, but why hadn’t he expressed interest in a more serious relationship? Last night would have been the perfect opportunity. She had dressed up just for him. She had expressed her desire for a man in her life. But in the end he had yawned in her face.
An unbidden thought entered Ana’s mind: I bet Teo spoke sweetly to Sucula! He whispered tender things to her in the secret warmth of her bed! Ana recoiled at the memory of the beautiful Chiveisian housewife with whom Teo had almost committed adultery. If he’s capable of that, whispered the voice in her head, could he truly have feelings for you?
Vanita broke into Ana’s turbulent thoughts. “Anastasia, sweetie—I can see I’ve upset you. Tonight isn’t a night for sadness. Let’s get you dressed in something slinky and go have some fun.”
Ana let Vanita lead her by the hand toward the other girls. Maybe I would like to try something slinky for once, she said to herself.
After parting with Ana at the gatehouse, Teo decided a little reconnaissance was in order. He knelt in the forest, inspecting the tracks on the ground. Rovers had passed by here. A large group of them. Recently.
Teo returned to the lakeshore chateau, examining its defenses as he approached. The building had been constructed for an idealized appearance more than for fighting off real enemies. Its battlements and towers were ill-positioned for actual defense, and vines clung to its walls, giving any invader the opportunity to climb to the second floor. The place had the charming and archaic look of a stronghold but lacked the fortifications a true stronghold would require.
The guard at the gate was dozing, his chair leaned back against the wall. Teo kicked it out from under him. The man cried out and scrambled from the ground, sputtering in confusion. Before he could speak, Teo challenged him. “Does your commander know Rovers have been within a league of this place in the last two days?”
“Huh? There aren’t any Rovers here! Who are you?”
“The only person who understands the danger we’re in, apparently,” Teo said in disgust. He brushed past the guard, ignoring the man’s indignant protests, and entered the chateau’s central courtyard.
Lords in fine tailcoats and ladies in elegant gowns were making their way to the ballroom, where tables had been set for the evening feast. Teo could sense the excited buzz that had fallen on the place. Everyone seemed oblivious to the threat of a raid. Either they were ignorant of it or they deliberately chose to ignore it. Teo resolved that even if the pompous aristocrats were willing to flirt with danger, no harm would came to Ana because of it.
Although Teo was well-dressed, he knew his navy blue doublet and gray pants weren’t suitable for such an upscale event. Unable to mingle unnoticed, he decided to find a vantage point from which to keep an eye on the ballroom, while at the same time watching for any disturbance outside.
After a few twists and turns in the chateau’s labyrinth of corridors, Teo came to a staircase. It led to a hallway lined with the doors of numerous guest rooms, but another door opened onto a mezzanine that encircled the ballroom. Empty suits of armor stood at attention around the room, holding staffs with heraldic banners that dangled over the railing. Down on the parquet floor, the aristocrats in their finery sat at cloth-covered tables or mingled in witty conversation. Teo didn’t see Ana.
As he crept toward a part of the mezzanine with exterior windows, a sudden movement in the shadows caught his attention. He glimpsed two figures in black hooded robes make a quick exit. Though he had no idea who they were, he made a mental note of their appearance.
The windows looked out on the forest. From this position, Teo could see the expanse of grass in front of the chateau’s entrance. Everything was quiet outside, so he turned toward the ballroom. He hadn’t scanned the floor long when he spotted Ana making conversation with a gaggle of handsome men of varying ages. One of Ana’s conversation partners, a distinguished gentleman with a gray mustache, wore a medallion around his neck and a purple sash across his body. No doubt it was Count Federco Borromo himself.
Ana was dressed in a shimmering gown of silver sequins, with a plunging neckline and a slitted skirt that revealed her slender legs. Even from a distance Teo could see the gown was formfitting and very appealing. He frowned and shook his head, annoyed by what he knew was running through the minds of the eager young men surrounding her.
As the party wore on and the evening dusk faded into darkness, Teo kept watch at the window for any sign of trouble. Every time he turned to look down at the ballroom, he grew more irritated, but he tried not to let the stream of men mobbing Ana bother him. This distraction is exactly what she needs, he reminded himself. She’s been through enough, being displaced from her home and family. Let her make some new friends in Ulmbartia. You don’t own her, Teo. Give her some space.
Teo did notice, however, that throughout the evening Ana had little to eat but a lot to drink. One man in particular, a pale fellow with slicked-back hair, was particularly attentive to her thirst. He kept returning from the punch bowl with a new glass for her. Teo watched the man closely as he paused in a corner with Ana’s drink. The man’s body was turned away so his actions couldn’t be seen, but Teo had been to enough parties to realize what was happening. When Ana put her hand to her forehead a few minutes later and the man reached out to steady her, Teo rose from his hiding place. The man began to steer Ana toward the door with his arm around her waist. It was time to move.
As Teo was turning to go, a flickering orange light in the darkness outside caught his eye. He pressed his face to the windowpane. The light flared up the way a match will do, then settled to a smaller flame that pulsed a few times, then went out. Someone was in the forest, smoking. Teo watched for several seconds. Once he felt certain an attack wasn’t imminent, he turned back to the ballroom. Ana was gone.
Teo left the mezzanine and ran downstairs to the main floor. Forcing himself to walk at a reasonable pace, he circled the ballroom. Ana was nowhere to be seen in the foyers outside each of the doors. He pounded his fist in his hand. Where would that guy have taken her? The obvious answer hit him. He dashed back upstairs to the corridor lined with guest rooms. Rounding a corner, he crashed into Ana’s devious escort, knocking the man flat on his back.
“Ach! What is the meaning of this?” the man exclaimed. He struggled to rise from the floor, his slick hair now standing up wildly.
“The meaning is, Nice try.” Teo grabbed an ornamental sword from a suit of armor and planted its tip through the man’s pant cuff deep into the hardwood floor. Grabbing Ana by the arm, he steered her around the corner.
“T-Teo! What’s . . . goin’ . . . on?” Ana staggered, and her breath reeked of alcohol.
“Your punch was spiked, and you’re drunk. I’m putting you to bed. What’s your room number?”
“Twen’ two,” Ana said dizzily.
Teo was standing outside Ana’s chamber fumbling with her key when she began to groan. He looked at her ashen face. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead.
“Don’t worry, Ana, I’ll—”
She gagged, then vomited explosively down the front of his doublet. “Ohh . . .” she moaned, swaying on her feet. He wiped her mouth with his sleeve and unlocked her bedroom door.
A voice rang out from down the corridor. “Look! It’s that uppity groom again!”
“Get your paws off her, you dirty commoner!” cried someone else. Teo recognized the voice: the bearded courtier from the confrontation at the tavern. The group of young aristocrats began to hurry down the hallway.
Ana’s eyes widened. Though she was inebriated, Teo could see she recognized the embarrassment of the situation. She would be the butt of jokes in Ulmbartian social circles for years to come: the peasant girl who tried to become a lady had revealed her
true colors at her first ball. Ana would become a laughingstock.
He could not let that happen to her.
Teo spun away from Ana and stumbled toward the approaching men. He put a drunken slur in his voice. “Whada you guys want?” he demanded, staring at them with his eyelids half-closed and his jaw slack.
“Oh, gods! You’re covered in filth.” The bearded courtier gagged and shielded his nose with a kerchief. The other men shrank back as well.
“Yup! Stole me a bottle.” Teo mimicked a stupefied chuckle.
The leader with the manicured beard called out over Teo’s shoulder, “Miss, are you alright? Is this man bothering you?”
“I’m fine,” Ana managed to say.
“Allow me to help you to your room.” He made a move toward her.
Teo stepped into his path. “Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Stay back.”
“Out of my way or you’ll be sorry.” The man wrapped his kerchief around his knuckles and cocked his arm.
Teo laughed to himself. This guy’s too dainty to touch me with his bare hand.
“Move now, groom, or I’ll take you down.”
Teo shook his head again.
The lace-covered fist started to move.
How did I get myself into this? Teo wondered.
The man hit him square on the jaw.
“Nicely done, lord!” cried one of the courtiers.
Teo took a dive, stumbling back so he would knock a vase from its stand. It crashed to the floor and shattered. Ana squealed and ducked into her room, latching the door behind her. The bearded aristocrat walked over to Teo, lying on his back among the porcelain shards.
“You disgust me,” the man said, spitting in Teo’s face. He turned abruptly and walked down the hallway with his retinue behind him.
Hrath the Almighty tightened the strap on his iron helmet as he sat in the prow of the boat. Though the vessel was crowded with warriors, it was well made and slipped easily through the murky waters. Even so, the Rover chieftain wanted to get his feet on dry land as soon as possible. His wandering tribesmen were not used to boats.
“Quietly, men,” he grunted over his shoulder, gesturing for silence.
From up ahead, the sound of genteel music wafted across the water. A few lights twinkled on the island. Hrath glanced at the sky. The moon was hidden behind a thick overcast—an auspicious omen.
When the emissaries from the shaman brotherhood had approached him a week ago with a proposal, Hrath had thought the deal was too good to be true. For a long time he had wanted to pillage the Ulmbartian chateau on the lakeshore but had held off because the consequences outweighed the benefits. Hrath knew he could capture the poorly defended chateau—but what would the payoff be? Carved furniture and massive tapestries were of no use to him. As a wandering man, Hrath traded in a currency of a more mobile sort: treasure and slaves. An attack on the chateau would put the Ulmbartian army hot on his trail, and for what? A few old gardeners to cart into slavery? The rich aristocrat who owned the place wasn’t foolish enough to keep anything of value there. A raid wasn’t worth the effort.
The arrival of the shamans in Hrath’s camp had changed matters entirely. The hooded priests announced they could provide slaves in abundance—beautiful young women draped with jewels of the most expensive sort. A hot hunger stirred in Hrath’s belly as he considered the violence he would soon enjoy. And to think, the price for all this was something he could easily provide. The only payment the shamans had demanded was the annihilation of every living person who wasn’t carried off as a slave.
As the island began to draw near, Hrath mentally rehearsed his battle plan one more time. The guests had enjoyed their feast yesterday without disturbance. Now their guard was down, so a quick strike at the island would take them by surprise. Hrath’s boats would surround the place, while a contingent of men with axes would scuttle the barge by which the revelers had been ferried to the lonely island. With the victims having no chance for escape, Hrath and his raiders could slaughter the defenseless men at leisure and round up the females. A squadron on the shore would encircle the chateau and prevent anyone from fleeing. Once the island was secure, the main bulk of Hrath’s forces would close on the chateau and kill whomever they found inside. Hrath smirked as he considered how the chateau’s fancy featherbeds would be used tonight.
The castle loomed large up ahead. Hrath raised his fist, and the leaders in the boats to his right and left repeated the signal for absolute silence. A hush fell upon the war party. The only sound on the lake was the gentle drip of water from the paddles as the boats moved into position.
Hrath glided toward a cobblestone landing that gave entrance to the castle’s central keep. In a moment he would be ashore with his sword in hand, while his men surrounded the island and attacked from all angles. Hrath could feel his heart thumping as the battle neared.
From high above, a war horn shattered the darkness. The startled raiders cried out, their surprise echoed by fearful shouts from inside the castle ruins.
A streak of fire shot to the surface of the lake, and a flame sprang up where the arrow landed. The attackers were illuminated in a flickering glow as three more fire arrows followed in rapid succession, setting ablaze an oily film that clung to the water.
Hrath had no time to consider the mysterious oil upon the lake. Though the flames now blocked any progress around the fortress, a channel of undisturbed water provided access to the main gateway at the head of the cobblestone landing. Enraged, Hrath lifted his sword and pointed toward the opening.
“Press the attack, brothers! Straight ahead! We can still take them! Follow me!”
He hit the cobblestones on the run and dashed underneath the ancient portcullis into the keep. Having scouted the island earlier, he knew the way through the decrepit building to the exit on the other side. His new plan was to burst upon the terrified partygoers in a flood of mayhem and steel, slaughtering them as if things had gone according to his original design.
Hrath rushed into the final room at the head of his ravenous war party and threw his shoulder against the door to the castle’s courtyard.
It didn’t budge.
Furious, he kicked the door with the sole of his boot, but it remained firm even though it had no latch. Someone had obviously barred it with a stout beam. The room filled with angry warriors, all of them shouting murderous threats and clamoring to be released. More men pressed from behind.
“Retreat, brothers!” Hrath shouted. “We’ll find another way in!” He tried to push his men back, but the general confusion and tight quarters prevented his order from being obeyed.
A screeching sound assaulted the men’s ears. “It’s a demon!” one of the raiders yelled, and a ripple of terror coursed through the room. The men cowered and stopped their ears as the screech intensified, culminating in a tremendous crash.
“It’s not a demon, you fools! It’s the portcullis! It’s been dropped! We’re trapped!”
Hrath shoved aside the flustered men and clawed his way to a fireplace. He scaled the stone face until he could stand on the mantel and stretch to look out a high window. The warrior with the horn was now in the courtyard, ordering gentlemen in their formal coats to pull on thick ropes. Hrath’s eyes followed the ropes to where they were attached. Fear gripped him for the first time as he realized they were tied to the timbers that buttressed the wall of the keep.
A squad of Hrath’s tribesmen burst into the courtyard from a different door. Their axes identified them as the men who had been sent to scuttle the barge. Hrath’s heart swelled as he saw them rampage among the terrified aristocrats. In a moment the men pulling the ropes would be scattered by the axmen, and then the threat of a collapse would be over. His brave comrades would unbar the door and secure their victory. “Over here, brothers!” Hrath shouted, but he couldn’t be heard over the din.
The lone warrior spun to face the oncoming raiders. He was tall and lean and built like a fighting man. A long sword and a battle ax
were in his hands.
“Taste our steel,” Hrath snarled.
The invading axmen rushed to attack, but it was they who tasted the mortal bite of the blade. The dark-haired warrior was like a demigod, a fighter of such skill that Hrath couldn’t believe his eyes. His movements were impossibly quick, each calculated to waste no effort in delivering a devastating blow. He dodged among Hrath’s raiders as if they were children playing war games with a grown man. Every time the warrior’s sword slashed down, a raider fell to the earth. Every time his ax descended, a raider’s helmet was split open in a shower of blood.
With a loud scraping noise, one of the timber buttresses snapped free from the wall. The aristocrats tugging the rope toppled backward at the sudden release of tension. A cascade of dust and mortar fell on Hrath’s shoulders. He winced as a heavy rock glanced off his ear.
Another buttress was pulled away from the wall outside. The explosive thunder of stone breaking apart reverberated in the crowded room. Huge chunks of masonry slammed to the floor, crushing those below like insects underfoot.
Outside, the lone warrior turned his stare upon the keep. The bodies of his defeated foes lay about him.
CRACK!
A gaping fissure opened in the keep’s exterior wall. The trapped raiders screamed as the massive stone ceiling began to tumble.
I’ve been outdone, Hrath realized. His men cried for mercy from the gods.
The last thing Hrath the Almighty knew before the world went black was the warm trickle of his bladder letting go.
CHAPTER
5
Nikolo Borja turned his head on the pillow. “Not so hard, you incompetent fool,” he barked to the masseur. The fingers rubbing Borja’s fleshy back lessened their pressure. A splash of olive oil trickled down his spine, and the strokes became more soothing.
The Gift Page 11