by Ken Scholes
Rudolfo had made the first suggestion that came to mind. “Poison, then?”
But the Physician shook his head. “I think it was the blood magicks.”
Hours later, the puzzle stayed with him and he sighed, looking to the dressing room’s one small window to gauge the day’s remains. It would be dark soon, and he still needed to sit with Winters, discuss his strategy and hear her thoughts before she left tomorrow with her people. He did not envy the path ahead of her.
If these assassins were truly Marshers, she not only had trouble within her borders but would soon have it without. Turam would not take well to the death of their future king, despite the internal troubles they had themselves.
And Rudolfo’s kin-clave with the Marshers would need to be honored, pulling the Ninefold Forest Houses into a political situation that was tenuous at best.
But before all of that, there was another matter to attend to.
He went to his father’s wardrobe, the one where he’d kept those few personal belongings of his parents that meant something to him. His father’s sword hung there, along with the emerald-encrusted scabbard. His mother’s hunting bow hung near it. On the shelves within stood a scattering of their favorite books-some that they had read to Rudolfo and Isaak when they were young boys. And behind those books lay the box.
He stretched up on tiptoes, reaching over those bound volumes, to find it. Then he pulled it down and opened it.
He’d not looked in the box for twenty years at least, though he’d known for nearly a year that he would need to. For the briefest of times, he’d looked forward to this. Then, that day at Vlad Li Tam’s bonfire had burned that hope away, turning it into something different.
Until the boy arrived.
Surprised at the trembling of his hands, Rudolfo reached into the box and lifted out a smaller box. Within it lay the two simple bands of silver that his mother and father had exchanged upon the day of his birth, even as the Gypsy Kings and Queens before them had done. Slipping the smaller box into his pocket, he carefully closed and replaced the larger back in its proper place.
As he left the dressing room, he thought about what came next.
He paused in the large bath chamber that separated his suite of rooms from those of Jin Li Tam. He splashed his face in water touched with lilac oil, pausing to take in his hollow eyes in the small mirror.
It wasn’t that he did not love Jin Li Tam, he thought, though it was a different love than what it might have been. It was a love having more to do with trust and effectiveness than passion or romance. Though there were times, as during her labor, where those feelings of intense longing would take him and he would find joy in her form, in her way with words, in the brightness of her eyes.
But those feelings, he reasoned, were not required. And if anything, they were not to be counted upon when it came to matters of state or duty. Still, he held hope that one day, what had started between them with the fire of a sunset would rekindle.
He went to the door on the other side of the bath chamber, the one that led to her room. He knocked lightly, and when she bid him enter, he pushed aside his introspection.
Jin Li Tam was not alone with Jakob-but he had not really expected her to be. A young woman who looked ill at ease was there with the River Woman, and the three of them were gathered around Jakob. He closed the door behind him.
As he approached, a look passed between Jin Li Tam and the River Woman. He’d seen the look before-from the River Woman, admonition and from Jin Li Tam, resolution.
Jin Li Tam looked to him now, and he watched her hands move, low and to her side. I have a difficult matter to discuss with you.
Soon, he replied. He forced a smile. “How is our son this evening?”
“As well as can be expected,” the River Woman said. The old woman looked tired, but that did not surprise Rudolfo-she’d spent the last three days at the manor, grabbing a few hours of sleep where she could but working night and day to care for the infant.
Jin Li Tam tried to return Rudolfo’s smile, then turned to the young woman. “Lynnae,” she said, “I would like to introduce you to Lord Rudolfo.” She looked to Rudolfo again. “I’ve taken the liberty of securing Lynnae’s help with our child. I hope that is acceptable.”
Odd, he thought, that she would seek a stranger with a house of servants at her disposal.
Rudolfo studied the girl. She was young, her dark, curly hair spilling out from beneath a scarf, offsetting her olive skin. Her clothing was simple fare, though it was taking on a threadbare quality from constant use; she shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She was pretty, he noted, but haunted by grief and too little sleep. Like the rest of us, he observed.
He stepped forward with a flourish and inclined his head toward her. “Lady Lynnae,” he said. “If Lady Tam requires your assistance, then my House is at your beckoning.”
She blushed and curtsied. “Thank you, Lord. You have already been a gracious host to us.”
Entrolusian by her accent, he thought, with a touch of the Southern Coasts. Most likely a refugee from the Delta, then. He watched her leave, and after another glance between the remaining two women, he watched the River Woman leave as well. Suddenly, for the first time since the night of the birth, Rudolfo and Jin Li Tam were alone with their baby.
Jin Li Tam patted the bedcovers beside her. “Come and hold your son, Rudolfo.”
Come and hold your son. The words stirred something inside of him to life again, like that night she had labored for the baby’s delivery. He went to the bed and sat next to her, receiving the bundle that stirred slightly in his unexpected arms. The skin color was more pallid than gray now, but the hollow eyes were the same. Rudolfo looked up. “Do you know what ails him yet?”
Jin Li Tam nodded. “We do.” He read the grief and worry on her face and steeled himself. “It was the powders,” she said.
Rudolfo’s heart wrenched. “The powders?”
“Yes. The ones I gave you.” She paused. “The ones my sister provided the scrip for.”
Rudolfo blinked. “Will he improve?”
She shook her head, and when the last light of the evening sun caught her face, Rudolfo saw the shame in her eyes. “No, he will not. I must find my sister.”
Jin Li Tam’s words elicited his memory of those iron ships at anchor and the lines of servants who loaded up the docks for the long boats to ferry what goods they could out to the deeper waters where Vlad Li Tam’s fleet awaited. “She is with your father,” he said, though it was more a question than a statement.
“I think so,” Jin said. “But I’ve sent a bird to be certain.”
“If she’s left with him,” he said, “it’s a vast ocean.” He studied the small face, watched the tiny chest labor for breath, wanting to ask how much time they had but afraid to. “Only the gods know where he’s fled to.” But even as he said it, the words felt wrong. Not fled.
He glanced over to his betrothed as she spoke. “I will find him,” she said. “I have to.”
There was resolve in her voice, and it camouflaged a desperation that Rudolfo doubted others would hear in her. He heard it, though, and knew to go carefully over that ground. “Have you discussed your travel plans with the River Woman?”
Her eyes narrowed and her jawline set with determination. “There is nothing to discuss.” She paused. “I can do this, Rudolfo. I’m getting stronger every day.” But her pale skin and her hollow eyes suggested otherwise.
He smiled and tickled the infant’s chin. Even as the words formed themselves in his mind, a strategy-haphazard and impossible to measure success against-formed in his mind. “I do not doubt that you can do this,” he lied. “I merely inquire as to how you would accomplish this while caring for our son. I only question whether or not this is a journey he should make. Your father and his household have been at sea for seven months. They could be anywhere by now.”
He could hear the anger rising in her voice. “You suggest that we simply send our scouts to find him?”
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He shook his head. “No. I suggest that we not send you and our ill child. Think for a moment,” he said, “and you will see the logic in my words.” He slowly counted to ten and then continued. “It would be a better use of our resources to have you remain in the Ninefold Forest and see to our interests here, caring for our boy.”
For a moment, the spark in her eye turned to panic, and Rudolfo first saw the danger of a cornered mother whose child is threatened. Then, it subsided. When it did, he continued. “There is a storm brewing here,” he told her. “Ansylus’s death and that of Hanric, even, are going to put all eyes upon the Marshers during a time when the world needs a scapegoat for its woe, and we are the Marshers only kin-clave. Your skills in that dance far outstrip mine, though certainly I know the steps.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you proposing?”
He played out the strategy, testing the corners of it in his mind. There were certainly other ways, but he could not bring himself to trust anyone else with the treasure of his son’s life. He could not send scouts, as she suggested. It would not suffice.
And it was true-he was an astute player of Queen’s War when it came to the political machinations of the Named Lands, but Jin Li Tam was vastly better. He was not needed here personally, though a part of him bristled at the idea of leaving given the present status of this game board. Still, he was resolved. He said the words slowly, feeling the irony of them against the back of his throat. “I am proposing,” he said, “that I go and find your father.”
Her look of surprise was obvious. “You vowed to kill my father upon your next meeting. He killed your family. He killed Gregoric.”
Each reminder stung, but he kept his eyes fixed on the tiny eyes of his infant son. “I may yet kill him when this is finished. But I will not rest until I have found him and found your sister.”
Jin Li Tam opened her mouth to speak, but Rudolfo spoke faster. “That brings me to another matter,” he said, shifting the baby in his arms so that he could dig the wooden box from his pocket.
She eyed the box with curiosity as he opened it. When he spoke, he heard his voice as if it were far away. “Jin Li Tam, of House Li Tam, mother of Jakob, I pledge my land and blade to you and offer you this ring as token of our marriage. Wear it and show the world that you of all souls bear my grace.” He’d never practiced the words before; he’d known them all his life. And certainly, Rudolfo had imagined this day would come soon enough, but he had thought to wait until they were past the shadow of Windwir’s fall.
Now he realized that they might never move past that shadow, that if anything, those shadows might lead to even darker times ahead. Slowly, he took up the ring his mother had worn all the days of her womanhood and extended it to Jin Li Tam. Their eyes met, and he saw that there were tears in hers. She extended her hand, and he placed the ring upon her third finger, pleased that it fit. “Now,” he said in a quiet voice, “you do the same.”
Her fingers shook slightly as she took the larger ring and placed it upon his finger. “Rudolfo, Lord of the Ninefold Forest Houses, son of Jakob and father of Jakob,” she said, “I pledge my heart and hand to you and offer you this ring as a token of our marriage.” Their eyes met again. “Wear it and show the world that you of all souls bear my grace.”
Rudolfo inclined his head toward his wife. His wife did the same, and between them, Lord Jakob stirred and cried.
Rudolfo raised his hand and held it so that the light caught the simple silver band. He’d not seen it worn since the day they took it off his father’s cold finger. “For now,” he said, “this will be binding.” He smiled. “When I return, we will have a proper Gypsy wedding.”
She nodded. “When will you go?”
Rudolfo sighed. “Tomorrow. I will take a squad of Gypsy Scouts and make for Caldus Bay. I’ve already sent word to Petronus. He and Tam worked closely together during the war. He may know something.” He thought for a moment. “From there, I will hire a vessel.”
Suddenly, the magnitude of his impending journey settled over him. There were letters of authority to be signed and witnesses to gather for the marriage proclamation that would establish her powers as his queen. Scouts to select for the journey and clothing to pack. He’d not been to sea in a goodly while-he’d been young the last time, with Gregoric by his side. He looked down again at the pallid face of his son, the veins soft blue beneath the skin, and knew that nothing would keep him from this task, that he would move the moon to save his child’s life.
Rudolfo shifted and passed the baby back to Jin Li Tam. “I should go. There is much to do.”
Jin Li Tam cast her eyes away, and he could tell that she wished something that she thought foolish. She blushed at it before she asked. “Join us tonight,” she whispered. “Join Jakob and me. It’s not fitting that husband and wife spend their first night apart, regardless the circumstances.”
Rudolfo nodded. When he finished the multitude of tasks required to make her voice resonate as his own among his people and among the Named Lands, and when he finished preparing for a journey that was impossible to prepare for, he would return. He would take his dinner in her bedchambers and sip chilled peach wine while watching his family.
My family. He’d not used those words since he was a boy. He’d not considered himself as having a family for far too long, and the notion of it now stopped him. I have a family, he thought, beyond my Gypsy Scouts and my Forest people. Tonight, he would pull off his silk slippers and climb into bed with the two of them and memorize that moment for the long days ahead of him.
Then, in the morning, he would begin his search for Vlad Li Tam.
Rudolfo stood. “I will return shortly,” he said. Bending, he kissed her, and he was surprised to find her mouth soft and hungry for his own. Bending further, his kissed his infant son upon his clammy brow.
As Rudolfo straightened, he saw the three of them reflected back in the dressing mirror in the corner of the room. For a moment, he thought he saw his father until he realized it was himself.
He left the room quickly, barking orders to the aides and servants that gathered around him as he went. But he was going through the act of preparation without any heart in it.
For Rudolfo’s heart was not within him any longer.
Instead, it lay swaddled in blankets, nursing in the arms of a glorious sunrise.
Chapter 7
Vlad Li Tam
Vlad Li Tam stood at the rail and watched the sun fall below the horizon. Below him, the high iron bow cut the waves as his flagship, The Serendipitous Wind, steamed south. They’d steamed straight on for two days and two nights now, and sometime tomorrow he expected to rendezvous with his First Son’s vessel to see whatever it was he had encountered. They’d heard no further news, but with the vessel constantly moving, he had not expected to hear anything.
His grandson slipped up behind him, but Vlad Li Tam heard his soft footfalls. “Good evening, Mal,” he said, turning as the young man approached.
Mal Li Tam grinned. “I’ve never been able to trick you.”
Vlad Li Tam chuckled. “No, but you continue to try.” When he was a young boy, Mal had even carefully rehearsed the strides of those others in his life that he could observe, imitating the walk of several of his siblings, his father, and even Vlad himself on occasion. It had become something of a game.
“But now you’ve found your own stride,” Vlad said.
The young man nodded. “Yes, Grandfather.” He stepped to the bow alongside the old man. “What do you think Father found?” he asked, staring south.
Vlad Li Tam glanced over at him, then back to the horizon. “It is impossible to guess. Somewhere out here, someone is working against us.” He’d been quiet about this, giving out as little information as he could get away with. Enough to keep them engaged in the search. The close network that House Li Tam had built over twenty centuries had somehow been infiltrated and bent, though whoever had done so was a master of spycraft, leaving no real evidence b
ehind. Not even the golden bird had borne any useful clues. The small mechanical had been a fixture in his family library for generations, and its sudden disappearance, just months before the destruction of Windwir, had been perplexing. Its sudden return was even more so. Vlad had torn it apart and restored it to its damaged condition personally before donating it to the new library. Yet someone had rescripted it, ordered it out to view Windwir’s fall, and used it to bear gods-knew-what messages gods-knew-where during the time that it was missing.
His grandson’s brow furrowed. “And you’re certain that the threat is beyond the Named Lands?”
He nodded. “I believe it is.” He paused, then added, “It’s certainly what the Order believed.” His mind played out the contents of the pouch he had delivered to Petronus on the day of the trial, with their maps and coordinates, their carefully crafted strategy to deploy the Seven Cacophonic Deaths through a choir of mechoservitors to protect the most vulnerable trade coastlines of the Named Lands. “They feared an invasion,” he said quietly.
“But what,” his grandson asked, “if it was simply a ruse?”
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Vlad Li Tam admitted. “All I know for certain is that they were frightened enough of something to bring back Xhum Y’Zir’s spell.”
Mal Li Tam nodded. “If it is out there,” he said, “I’m certain we will find it.” His face brightened in the purple light of evening. “Oh, I have something for you, Grandfather.” He reached into his pocket and drew a small pouch. “Rae Li Tam found these just before the feast and asked me to bring them to you. I wanted to dry them first,” he said with a chuckle. “Not an easy task when you’re at sea.” He passed the pouch over and Vlad Li Tam took it, tipping the contents into his hand.
He held the kallaberries to his nose and inhaled their pungent scent, feeling his heart quicken at the sight and smell of them. How long had it been? Four months or maybe five? He’d given up the pipe first by necessity, knowing the dried berries would be harder and harder to come by the farther out they sailed. But later, it had become a choice. The forgetfulness and calm were luxuries he could no longer afford to steep himself in with the work he was presently about, despite the occasional flashes of brilliance the berries offered him. Still, he’d asked his daughter, each time they made landfall, to watch out for the rare kallabush and its small crimson berries. And now that they were in his hand, he knew that he would return to his room and smoke them in the long-stemmed pipe he kept there. He smiled at his grandson. “Thank you,” he said.