The Severed Realm

by Michael G. Manning

  Hunter,

  Your services are once again needed. Make haste to the capital, bringing those tools needed to accomplish your task. Please ensure that none know of your journey. Even the World Road may be watched. Make certain you are not recognized.

  I know it has been many years since you last accepted work, but do not turn this offer down. The client is important and could be a significant thorn in your side should you refuse. Bear with it and meet me at the Hightower gate tomorrow, mid-afternoon.

  There are watchers in the city who are sensitive. Bring no magic into the city, but be advised that the target may require extra effort to bring down. Plan accordingly.

  Manfred

  “Screw you, Manfred,” muttered Chad, but he didn’t cast the letter aside. His old associate knew very well he would turn him down. The man wouldn’t have attempted to hire him if he hadn’t thought there was a reason he would accept. Manfred was also not known for poetic prose. “Thorn in my side, eh?”

  Chad studied the middle paragraph, and after a second his eyes widened. “The bitch has gone crazy.” Standing up, he went back to the door and flung it open. The messenger still stood patiently in the yard. “Hey, jackass!” called the ranger. “What’s happening in the capital these days?”

  The man dipped his head in nervous respect, but the excitement in his eyes was evident. “I’m amazed the news hasn’t reached here yet, what with the speed of trade on the World Road nowadays.”

  Chad growled. “Just answer the question ballsack. I’ve got a headache an’ it ain’t gettin’ any better lookin’ at you.”

  “Prince Leomund was murdered by the Blood Count. They have him in chains waiting for trial. They say that—”

  “How the hell did that happen?” interrupted the ranger.

  “With a dagger it is said,” responded the messenger.

  Chad shook his head. “No, shit-for-brains, how did they put him in chains? I know the Count, an’ I’m damn sure he wouldn’t let them lock him up again.”

  The stranger was practically vibrating with excitement to tell his tale. “He was arrested by Lord Gaelyn and his own son, the Queen’s Champion. I’ve heard he stood adamant before the Queen, threatening to kill her and overturn the kingdom in civil war, but when faced by his son, he wept in shame and surrendered.”

  Chad realized he was grinding his teeth. “Spare me the storyteller’s embellishments and just give me the details.” He listened for several minutes, and when the man had run out of facts and began to speculate, he lost his patience.

  “That’s enough. Tell the man who paid you I’ll be there, wrapped in ribbons and bows.”

  “Pardon, sir? Ribbons and…”

  “Ribbons and bows, ye muleheaded twat!” swore Chad. “Tell him that exactly. He knows what it means. Now get gone before I do yer mother a favor and trim that ugly head of yers off.”

  He slammed the door behind him again, but he didn’t sit down. Instead he went to his room and began collecting his things. He needed to pack light. Mentally, he sent a thought out to his dragon, Prissy, come quick. We have to travel.

  The beast was out hunting, but she was close enough to hear him. For the last time, my name is Priscilla.

  It’s gonna be ‘steak’ if ye keep arguing with me, Chad shot back.

  He was ready within a quarter of an hour, and he left Washbrook immediately, stopping only to leave a note for Danae at the Muddy Pig so she wouldn’t wonder at his absence. Then he was on the road, unremarkable in appearance to other travelers, except for the massive bow stave tied to his back.

  ***

  “How long do we have to wait here, grandmother?” asked Carissa for the second or third time. They had been waiting in the street near the home of Lord Airedale for nearly half an hour.

  Elise looked at her with her one good eye. The other had gone white and rheumy, a recent addition that was merely temporary. She was dressed in worn, tattered clothes and carried a heavy basket of laundry as well. With her hunched back and frail appearance, she looked ready to collapse at any moment. “Until that jackanape decides to leave for his assignation with Lady Carmella.”

  Carissa pursed her lips. “Brendan won’t come. He knows Carmella doesn’t fancy him. How do you know she made an assignation with him?”

  Her grandmother cackled, completing her disguise as an old crone. “Because I sent him a letter asking for a meeting.”

  Carissa was shocked. “You signed her name? That’s, that’s…”

  “Forgery, sweetheart. It’s called forgery,” said Elise, patting Carissa’s cheek gently.

  Carissa Thornbear looked uncomfortable. “He still won’t believe it.”

  “Of course he will, sweetling. Men are fools, and lords even more so. They can’t help but think themselves irresistible,” Elise said softly.

  “I still don’t understand why you need me here,” said her granddaughter.

  “To make sure that chivalry is not dead,” replied the old woman. “When he comes out, he’ll chance upon you. All you have to do is greet him and say a few pleasantries. I’ll have an accident near the door.”

  “Chivalry?”

  Her grandmother nodded. “Self-important lordlings like Brendan have a tendency to forget their manners when no one of importance is around. Your presence is merely to make him remember his nobler attributes.” As she finished her remark, the front door to Lord Airedale’s house opened and a young man in expensive finery stepped out. “Quick, quick, go now,” hissed Elise.

  Carissa straightened and began walking hurriedly, she crossed directly in front of young Brendan, pretending not to notice him as he exited. “Carissa?” called out the young lord. “Is that you?”

  She stopped and turned her head to look at him. “Master Airedale! I didn’t expect to encounter you.”

  The young man frowned. “Please, my lady, you know I’ve asked you to call me by my given name.”

  Carissa covered her mouth, blinking at him coquettishly. “Forgive me, Brendan. It just seems too soon to be so familiar.”

  Brendan smiled, raking long fingers through the thick mane of hair that covered his head. “Certainly not. Our families have known one another since long before we were born. It’s only natural.”

  It was at that point that Elise Thornbear stumbled, uttering a loud cry as she crashed into the young lord, sending her basket and its varied articles of clothing flying onto the cobblestones. While the young man caught his balance quickly enough, Elise continued downward, falling to her hands and knees so violently that Carissa drew a sharp intake of breath, fearing her grandmother might truly be injured.

  “Hag! Watch where you walk!” shouted Brendan, losing his temper. The poor benighted woman at his feet scrambled to collect her basket’s contents, while simultaneously muttering an endless stream of apologies.

  Carissa was aghast at his lack of sympathy, but she bent immediately and began to help her grandmother gather up the clothing scattered on the roadway. “Are you alright, madam?”

  Brendan chewed his lip, already regretting his loss of decorum. Putting on a smile, he bent to assist them. “Pardon me, madam. You surprised me.”

  “It’s nothing, young sir,” muttered Elise. “Old Mag is used to it.” There were tears in her eyes and blood on her hands from the rough ground. Lifting the heavy basket, she made as though to continue on, but then she swayed on her feet.

  Brendan caught her arm, and Carissa moved to the other side to catch her if she fell. “Brendan, she’s skin and bones!” cried the young woman. “She probably hasn’t eaten in days, and her hands are bloody.”

  Young Airedale made a conscious effort to hide his impatience, though he only partly succeeded. “Take a rest in my house, madam. I’ll see you fed and your hands washed before you leave.” Stepping back inside, he called one of his maids and she was soon ushering Elise
indoors.

  When he came back out, Carissa stood waiting with an approving expression on her face. “That was a very kind thing of you to do, Brendan. That poor woman probably hasn’t known a good meal in weeks.”

  Brendan puffed up slightly, looking to one side modestly. “It’s only common courtesy for us to do what we can for the poor.”

  You probably would have kicked her if I hadn’t been here, thought Carissa, remembering his temper, but she smiled sweetly. “You are the very soul of gentility, Brendan. If you don’t mind me inquiring, where are you headed?” Her expression suggested she might be interested in company if he wasn’t busy.

  “Ah,” said Brendan, struggling to find an excuse for leaving her without revealing his true destination. “Forgive me, Carissa. Father has an urgent errand for me. I dare not tarry.”

  Carissa looked disappointed. “Another time, perhaps.”

  After they parted, she struggled to contain her good humor as she made her way home. Acting is rather fun.

  It was only an hour before her grandmother rejoined her. “What did you do?” asked Carissa.

  Elise smiled mysteriously. “Nothing much, dearest. I only needed to make sure they would be looking for new help in a day or two.”

  Her granddaughter gasped, covering her mouth. “You didn’t!”

  “Don’t fret, poppet,” said Elise, reaching out to stroke Carissa’s hair. “It’s nothing as serious as that. Several of their staff will come down ill in a day or two, but they’ll recover with no lasting harm.”

  “How ill?” said Carissa warily.

  “There’s a terrible stomach ailment going around,” said Elise. “I expect they’ll be in bed for a week or two.”

  Her granddaughter frowned. “It sounds awful. Why would you do that?”

  “I need a job,” said Elise simply. “It would take ages to find an opening the usual way, so I made my own luck.” Rising to her feet, she went to the kitchen. “Come help me with the pot. It’s a little heavy for these old bones. I need to finish these extracts before I start my job in a couple of days.”

  “Nana is a little scary,” whispered Carissa as she rose to help her grandmother. I wonder if Gram knows?

  Chapter 21

  Lady Hightower stepped into the warden’s office, carrying an even larger basket than the last time she had come. Regan looked at it with obvious anticipation, his smile displaying a disconcerting mixture of rotten and missing teeth. “It is good to see you again, milady,” he greeted her.

  Rose looked him up and down with critical eyes. “I cannot say the same, Master Jailor.”

  He ignored her insult. “I see you brought me a gift.”

  “Hardly,” she replied dismissively. “This is for Lord Cameron.”

  “I’ve already told you the rules, Lady Hightower,” began the corpulent man.

  Rose cut him off. “Are those the same rules you gave Wilhelmina Baker?”

  Regan seemed surprised to hear the name. He stared stupidly at her for several seconds before responding, “Huh?”

  “Surely you remember her, Regan. That thick head of yours isn’t that slow. What about Martha Taylor? Are you beginning to see a pattern?”

  The warden glared at her, furious. “Get out.”

  “You didn’t tell Agnes Morris to get out, did you, Regan? I think perhaps you should be a little friendlier,” said Rose, her voice dripping with saccharine tones.

  “You can’t frighten me with rumors, Lady Hightower,” said the jailor. “Whatever those women told you, it was all lies.”

  Rose smiled, showing him a long row of white teeth in an expression that was anything but friendly. “Do you think I care? Whether you think I can prove it or not is beside the point. Force my hand and I’ll ruin you. The best you can hope for is to be thrown out on your ass, but I’ll make certain that doesn’t happen. I’ll see to it you wind up in one of those cells you guard so virtuously.”

  The jailor wasn’t ready to surrender yet. “That’s it. I’m calling the guard to have you removed.”

  “Excellent,” said Rose. “Call the Royal Guard, I have some things to talk about with their captain, Sir Harold. Did you know he’s a friend of mine? The Knights of Thorn were named after my dear departed husband. Harold owes me quite a lot. Or would you prefer to call the City Guard? Oh, that wouldn’t be fair at all would it, since their captain answers to me directly. Have you thought this through, Regan?”

  The warden’s face was ashen. “I’ll lose my post if they find out I bent the rules.”

  Rose reached into her basket and pulled out a heavy purse, then tossed it to him. “That’s for your retirement, if such should happen, which it won’t. I’m not taking anything sinister in to him. Just food and some comforts to keep him from freezing to death before the trial.” She offered up the basket for his inspection. “Feel free to look through it.”

  Regan made a pretense of pawing through the goods within. Rose studied the room while he did. “What are those cabinets over there?” she asked.

  “That’s where we keep their belongings.” He lifted his necklace, displaying a ring of keys, which he rattled. “Locked up safe and sound. We return them when our guests leave.” He laughed as though he had made a joke.

  Rose didn’t find him funny. “Lord Cameron will be found innocent in a few days. See to it his things are untouched.”

  The warden snorted. “If you say so, milady.”

  She snapped at him when he started to pull out the roast fowl she had brought. “That’s not for you.”

  Disappointed, he released it and returned the basket to her. “Very well. You can take this in.”

  Rose smiled again, this time more genuinely. “Thank you, Regan.” She left the office but turned back at the door for one more remark. “By the way, his visiting time is an hour from now on. Half an hour is too short.”

  The jailor nodded, covering his face with one hand. “Please leave, milady.”

  She did, but as she walked down the corridor she heard him swear softly to himself, almost beneath her hearing, “Lady Highwhore.” Gritting her teeth, she went on. When she reached her destination, Tyrion was on guard, one of his uncannily human-like krytek serving as his backup.

  “Lady Hightower,” he said, smiling and bowing slightly. “I had a feeling you’d be back soon. How did you get the basket down here?”

  “Master Regan has rethought his policies,” she responded. “His visiting time has also been extended to an hour.”

  Tyrion gazed back at her incredulously. “Really?”

  “Feel free to ask him yourself if you doubt me,” returned Rose.

  Tyrion grinned. “You are a force of nature, Lady Rose. Have you thought more about my offer?”

  She froze for a moment, caught by her reluctance to answer. She had already thought it through, though. Elise and Carissa were staying in her city house; all she had to do was send Angela away for the evening. Anything, she repeated silently to herself. “I have,” she replied smoothly. “You may call upon me this evening after you are finished here.”

  “I look forward to it,” said Tyrion.

  That makes one of us, thought Rose, refusing to meet his eyes. “Open the cell, please.”

  ***

  In the middle of another of my incessant dreams, I was startled when the light washed over me. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but then I heard her voice. “Mordecai? Are you awake?”

  I tried to sit up, but my body felt numb and awkward. Jerking, I nearly fell onto the floor, but a warm hand caught my shoulder, steadying me. Blinking in the overly bright light cast by the lantern, I looked up at her. “Rose, you shouldn’t have come.”

  “Gods, Mort! You’re so cold,” exclaimed Rose. She ran her hands down my chest, then felt my legs and began rubbing my feet. “Your feet are as cold as ice.”
<
br />   “It’s not so bad once they stop burning,” I mumbled.

  “Can you sit up?” she asked.

  I gave her a half-hearted smile. “Sure,” I said, and almost managed it, though she had to help me part of the way. After that, she rustled around in her basket and drew something out before spreading it part of the way over the bench.

  “I need to get you up for a moment,” she told me. “Put your arms around my neck.”

  I did, draping the long chain between my wrists over her head and down her back. What followed were several minutes of awkward shuffling while she tried to steady me and keep me from falling while simultaneously arranging a blanket across the bench. Eventually, she finished and helped me sit down again. I thought she might be done, but then she knelt in front of me.

  “Rose, what are you doing?” I asked.

  She handed me a second blanket, but remained on the floor. “Wrap that around yourself.” Then I felt pressure from her fingers, as she gently rubbed my chilled toes.

  I might have cried, but my eyes were too dry to respond to my emotions. “Don’t do that, Rose.”

  She looked up at me but her warm hands never left my feet. “Why not?”

  “They’re dirty,” I said, feeling embarrassed. “Someone like you shouldn’t…”

  Brilliant sapphires stared up at me fiercely, piercing my soul. “Someone like who? Someone like Lady Rose Thornbear?” Then her expression softened. “Are you saying I’m not worthy to rub your feet, Lord Cameron?” Her tone was teasing.

  I looked away. She knew very well what I meant. Lady Rose had been the paragon of proper etiquette and manners for as long as I had known her. What’s more, it wasn’t a show. She really was all those things that so many women merely pretended to be. She shouldn’t have been getting her hands dirty to help me.

  She changed tactics. “What would Dorian do if he were here?”