by Sue Tingey
The restless dead began to drift my way as I studied the prisoner. They reached out to me, imploring me. To do what, I had no idea.
Baltheza got to his feet and the spirits whirled around to face him, but not before I saw their expressions, and I was left in no doubt that if they could have become whole again he would have suffered their wrath.
“I’ve considered your crimes and have found that some of your sentences should be carried out immediately.” The spirits moaned and held their heads in their hands. Some shook their fists; some threw ineffectual punches at the guards although none approached Baltheza and his pet executioner Amaliel.
“Kubeck Vansk,” Baltheza said and the sandy-haired demon stood to attention, “you’ve been convicted of crimes so heinous I’ll not see you live another hour let alone a day.” The spirits groaned. “You will pay for your felonious and treasonous acts in flesh.” The spirits turned to me, some dropping to their knees. “I sentence you to be flayed from your toes to your neck, then to be drawn and quartered and your entrails drenched in boiling oil.”
Amaliel gestured with a wave of the hand to two guards standing by the back entrance, who opened the door for a large, wooden table to be wheeled in. The wood was dark, but it couldn’t hide the many jade and maroon stains that blemished the wood. Leather straps hung at the corners with more stretched across its width. Deep channels were carved around the edges and cut into a cross shape in the center. I didn’t need an explanation of them, I’d seen similar in paintings of medieval torture chambers. Kubeck Vansk did not utter a word, but stood there, head held high as the table rumbled across the stone floor to stop directly between the dais and where he waited.
The spirits were not so quiet; they wailed at the sight of the table, and a small apparition I had seen on several previous occasions floated over to stand directly in front of me.
“Save him,” his voice a plaintive whisper. “Please save him.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Jinx said to me from the corner of his mouth as he stared straight ahead.
“There is a law,” the little ghost said, and other spirits took up the cry.
Amaliel glided across the chamber to stand beside the table and gestured for two guards to bring the unfortunate Kubeck across.
“What law?” Jinx whispered.
The little spirit ignored him. I lifted my hand to cover my lower face and asked, “What law?”
“A princess of the blood may claim his life.”
I glanced at Jinx. He lifted his fist to his chin, frowned into space and took a step back to whisper in Jamie’s ear.
Kubeck had been led to the table while all the other prisoners had been taken to the side of the hall. They were to witness Kubeck’s fate, probably in anticipation of their own executions. “Hurry up and think of something,” I muttered.
Jamie and Jinx both stepped back to my side. “Baltheza won’t like it, but the law says that a blood royal can claim the life, body and soul of a convicted felon,” Jamie told me.
“What does that mean?”
“You will save his life, but he’s yours forever or until you tire of him.”
“He’ll be your slave,” Jinx said, “but he’ll be alive and I can’t imagine being your slave would be a bad thing. In the old days sometimes a felon would rather accept the death penalty than be owned by a blood royal as the torture could go on forever.”
“Nice,” I said with a sigh.
“Get on with it,” I heard Baltheza say.
“Get on the table,” one of the guards grunted as three others stepped forward, their swords raised.
Kubeck hesitated by the table, his shoulders sagging. He knew it was useless to fight and he was about to die horribly.
“For the record,” he said, giving Amaliel a pointed look, “I’m not guilty of the charges made against me and I’ll see he who has spoken falsely against me in the afterlife.”
“No afterlife for him,” the small spirit cried and the others chanted, “No afterlife.”
“What do they mean?” I asked.
“No time to ask,” Jinx said, nodding toward Kubeck who was being forced up onto the table.
I strode forward and Jinx lifted the rope so I could pass underneath. “As a princess of the blood, I claim this demon’s life.”
“My Lord,” Jamie whispered behind me.
“My Lord,” I repeated louder.
Amaliel turned around to face me, not that I could see his face, just those awful red, burning eyes.
Baltheza sat up straight in his throne. “Why would you want this creature?”
“I need a servant.”
“You’ve five guards.”
“It’s become apparent I need more.”
“Sire,” Amaliel hissed at Baltheza, moving to his side to whisper in his ear.
An expression of irritation passed across Baltheza’s face and he waved his Court Enforcer away. “You realize he will be totally your responsibility?”
“I do,” I said.
Baltheza, to my complete surprise, smiled an almost affectionate smile at me. “You are so much like your mother,” he said. “How could I not grant you your request?” He flapped a hand at the guards. “Release him into her custody.”
A ghostly cheer rose up from the surrounding spirits and the little ghost punched the air, while others whooped and clapped.
“Lord Baltheza,” Amaliel said, “I must protest.”
Baltheza’s smile slid from his face to be replaced by a cold and arrogant glare which he turned upon Amaliel. “Am I not the Lord here? Am I not your ruler? Is it not for me to say who should live and die?”
“My Lord, I—”
“Enough! Kubeck Vansk is now the property of my youngest daughter. Keep him here while I speak to Princess Lucinda in private.” He rose and beckoned for me to follow him out into the smaller dining chamber. I glanced back at my men and they both were right behind me as I walked across the hall.
Baltheza went straight to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine from the waiting flagon. He gestured at a second goblet and I shook my head, “No, thank you.” I needed to be able to think clearly when I was talking to him.
He leaned back against the table, crossed his ankles and looked me up and down. “I see you’re settling into our world in more ways than one.”
“You wanted to speak to me?”
He took a sip of his drink and studied me over the rim of the goblet. “I understand you were attacked yesterday.”
“Yes, as were my guards.”
“They let you be taken,” he said, casting a look in Jamie and Jinx’s direction. “What possessed them to leave you under Captain Vaybian’s protection I cannot fathom.”
“What I don’t comprehend,” I said, cutting to the chase, “is how Henri le Dent was able to follow us for the past couple of days when it was my understanding he was a guest of Amaliel Cheriour’s?”
Baltheza’s smile froze and the knuckles of the hand holding the goblet grew pale. “What?”
“Vaybian noticed a demon watching us a couple of days ago. The same demon was in the Drakon’s Rest yesterday and revealed himself to be Henri,” Jamie told him.
“Impossible.”
“I saw him with my own eyes,” I said.
“No,” Baltheza said with a determined shake of his head. “No, you are mistaken.”
“Well, next time you see him ask him how he lost his right hand,” Jinx said.
“The Sicarii said their healers might be able to fix it,” I said.
“If they do it’ll never be the same,” Jamie said. “It’s not like they can stitch it back on as they would in the Overlands, reconnecting each tendon and blood vessel.”
Baltheza looked at each of us in turn then stood up and strode to the door, flinging it open. “Someone get me Amaliel. I want to see him now. And tell him to bring Henri le Dent with him.” He closed the door and leaned back against it. “It cannot be, it cannot be,” he muttered almost
to himself.
I felt my men move close behind me. They were obviously of the same opinion as me: Baltheza looked like he had gone fully over the edge.
He pushed himself away from the door and stalked back to the table, then poured himself another drink with shaking fingers, spilling a drop on the cuff of his sleeve. For a moment he appeared mesmerized by the growing spot of red on the snow white fabric, then he knocked back the wine in one and poured himself yet another before turning back to me.
“Why did you want the miscreant Kubeck?” he asked.
“I told you I need a servant.”
“But why him?”
“He looks strong and tough.”
“A bit of rough for your bed?”
I heard Jamie suck in air through his teeth. Baltheza didn’t appear to notice. I gave him what I hoped was a pleasant smile. “I have that taken care of, thank you,” I told him. “I need a loyal servant who will help me find my sister. I have an inkling he will fit the bill.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Hmm.” He took another swig of his drink and his expression changed, purple smudges coloring his cheeks. “Where is he?” he said, slamming the goblet down and sending a shower of wine across the table. He strode back to the door and threw it open again. “Where is Amaliel? Bring him to me now.”
This time he left the door open and began to pace. “Why is he not here?”
“It must be quite a walk from the dungeons,” I said, though why I was trying to defend the revolting creature I don’t know.
Baltheza stopped his manic pacing and turned to me. “Have I told you how like your mother you are?”
I had to force my expression to remain smiling and friendly, but not because I concerned for my own safety; something wasn’t right. Baltheza had always been borderline insane, but this behavior was bizarre.
“I think I will join you in a drink,” I said.
“Good girl,” he said. “Like mother like daughter.” And then he frowned, “Should be like father like daughter.”
“That’s me; a chip off the old block.” I poured myself a drink and wandered over to stand next to Jinx. “Could you hold this for a sec,” I said, passing him the goblet and giving it a pointed look. He frowned at me and I mouthed smell it.
His eyes narrowed as I turned away to distract Baltheza. “We hope to leave this afternoon,” I told him. “I don’t want to delay any longer. Have your spies had any news of the Sicarii’s whereabouts?”
I glanced back at Jinx and he didn’t need to nod, his expression told me all. Someone was poisoning my father.
I had never even remotely thought of Baltheza as my father, preferring to hope he was mistaken. Finding out he was being poisoned didn’t exactly change that—I still thought him cruel and wicked—but if he was my father and he was being poisoned I wanted to know by whom and why.
I took the goblet from Jinx, pretended to take a sip and pulled a face. “My Lord, don’t you find the wine a bit tart?”
“What?”
“The wine,” I said. “Is it from your cellar?”
He gave a distracted wave of the hand. “Where is Amaliel?”
“We’ll go and find him,” Jinx said.
“Will you?”
“Of course, My Lord,” Jamie said, taking the goblet from me and taking a surreptitious sniff at the wine before placing it on the table next to the flagon. “We’ll be back in a few moments.” He placed his hand on my back and guided me toward the door.
“Find him and bring him to me,” Baltheza said draining the wine. “And bring me another flagon.”
As soon as we were outside Jinx let rip with several earthy expletives. “Just as well you never accepted the wine he offered you before,” he said when he had calmed down a bit.
“Do you think it would have killed me?”
“Not necessarily,” Jamie said. “You are one of us.”
“So it won’t kill him?”
“The poison he’s being fed isn’t to kill, it’s to befuddle the senses,” Jinx answered. “To drive him mad—and succeeding rather well judging by the display we just witnessed.”
“It would explain why he’s been so erratic of late.”
“I want to know who and why,” I said. Both my men looked at me and Jinx began to chuckle. “What?”
Jinx clasped his hands together beneath his chin and fluttered his eyelashes. “‘He’s not my father. Baltheza can’t possibly be my father,’” he said in a high pitched soprano, then his voice dropped back to normal, “but as soon as he’s in danger you become like an avenging angel.”
I glared at him. “This isn’t funny Jinx.”
“No, it’s not. Someone is causing harm to our monarch, which isn’t funny at all. Your reaction to it, however, is hilarious.”
“Well, I’m so glad I keep you amused.”
I was about to say more when two guards came striding across the great hall. Upon seeing us their relief was palpable—they clearly had bad news and would rather give it to us than Baltheza.
“Lady Lucinda,” one said and they both gave brief bows of their heads, “we think you should know Amaliel Cheriour is no longer in the palace.”
“And neither is the prisoner Henri le Dent,” said the other.
“You’re sure?”
“Amaliel was seen leaving directly after being called to present himself before our lord.”
“Thank you,” I said. They both gave deeper bows and then hurried away.
“Great, now we have to break the bad news to him,” Jamie said.
“Do I tell him he’s being poisoned?” I asked.
“I think maybe I should do it,” Jinx said. “He can’t question my motives.”
I reentered the chamber with some trepidation. Telling Baltheza Amaliel had run off and that Henri was no longer in custody, and also “by the way you’re being poisoned,” was never going to go down well.
As it happened it went better than I’d have expected, but I think this was more down to Jinx’s acting abilities than anything.
“My Lord,” he said, dropping down onto one knee and bowing his head, “I have grievous and disturbing news.” He then went on to tell Baltheza in quiet and shocked tones how it would appear Amaliel had allowed Henri to go free and was himself involved in some nefarious conspiracy.
A couple of times Baltheza began to work himself up, but Jinx somehow managed to calm him. By the time we left he had surrounded himself with guards, and the demons he had condemned to various horrible deaths less than an hour before had seen their sentences commuted to lifelong servitude as food and wine tasters to their monarch. Unfortunately, we were none the wiser as to where we should be searching for the latest Sicarii hideout.
I also had a new servant to deal with.
When I went back to find him, he was still in chains and kneeling between two guards who were even bigger than he was. He was obviously still considered dangerous.
“Unchain him,” I said to them.
“Milady?”
“You heard her,” Jinx said.
“He’s convicted of treason and crimes against the monarchy.”
“So was I a few weeks back,” I said, “so we should get along just fine.”
Kubeck climbed to his feet while the guards unlocked the shackles. “Should I be thanking you?” he asked me. “Or am I in for worse than what was destined for me in Amaliel’s care?”
“Who did you upset?” I asked. “You must have upset someone quite a lot for them to want you executed in such an awful way.”
He gave a wry smile. “You didn’t save me to learn this.”
“No, but I’d be interested to know.”
“Who wields the real power in this court?” he asked.
“Amaliel,” Jinx said.
“Amaliel had you arrested on trumped up charges? Why?”
“It isn’t something we should speak of here,” he said.
“He’s right,” Jamie said.
“Just because Amaliel has disappeared doesn’t mean he hasn’t left some eyes and ears behind.”
“I’m with the Guardian on this one,” Jinx said.
“Right then,” I said, “let’s get the others and leave.” Then I looked up at the ceiling. “Though, before we go, I’d be most interested to find out why so many spirits linger here.”
Kubeck shot me a surprised look. “Get used to it,” Jinx said. “You ride with three very different kinds of demon now.”
Jinx excused the guards and closed the doors, leaving us alone.
I walked to the center of the hall and looked up at the shadows clinging to the rafters. “Come speak to me,” I said. “Let me try to help you,” and the ghostly figures of those executed at Lord Baltheza’s pleasure began to descend.
Jinx walked to my side and they shifted away, forming a circle around us. The small spirit who had begged me to help Kubeck earlier glided to the front. As he came closer I could see he wasn’t a child, as I’d at first thought. He had wrinkles around his eyes and his face could have been human had it not been for two short horns on his brow. He had short, tight, curly hair and when I looked down he had small hooves instead of feet, like those of a goat, and fur-covered ankles that poked out beneath his trousers.
“Soulseer,” he said, his voice melodic and low, “you have returned to us.”
“Why do you remain in this place where you were caused such pain?” I asked. “Why don’t you move on?”
“We cannot. We don’t want to stay but we can’t leave.”
“Why?”
There was a low groaning wail from the other spirits. “Cursed,” they chorused, “cursed.”
“Who by?” I asked, though I had a sneaking suspicion.
“The executioner, Amaliel,” the small spirit said to more groans from the others. “He cursed us at the moment before death, tying us to this place forever.”
“This is getting weird,” I said.
“Help us, help us,” the spirits whispered, their voices sounding like dead leaves rustling in the breeze.