The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2)

by Howell, Rob

  Giving me all of my weapons suggested they had no fear of my martial skills. Of course, my martial skills would disappear soon enough if I were kept in this ornate cage for a long time.

  I could not really justify cleaning anything, but I oiled and re-oiled my blades just to do something.

  At least they provided writing materials. I assuaged my restlessness by scribing notes about my travels, something Bedarth would have expected me to have already done. “Memorize everything, lad, but remember the only true memory is the written word.”

  Each midday, as they delivered lunch, the servants refilled the decanters and provide more ink and paper, as efficient as the Empire’s legendary mechanical wonders.

  By the third day I was finishing my notes of my previous few winters. I had spent them in Ivan Yevgenich’s izba in Zabad Oblast, the northwesternmost oblast of the Matriarchate of Periaslavl. Deor and I had ridden across vast swaths of snow and ice in Ivan’s service, chasing and sometimes catching the reavers of the icy north.

  Hlodowic would approve of the cavalry skills I had learned in that time, skills we rarely used in the Seven Kingdoms.

  I sighed as I looked out the window. Any moment the door would open and servants in the Emperor’s livery would enter with lunch and supplies, ignoring anything that did not pertain to my care. I wondered if one of the wrestling maneuvers that Desimir had taught me would garner a reaction.

  Restlessness gave me no excuse to terrorize these servants, though, so I dismissed that thought.

  Neither Andreas nor Pherenike visited. I wondered how they might know if I ever changed my mind.

  The angle of the sun over the sea of red tiled roofs told me the servants would arrive at any time…

  And the door opened.

  “What have you done now, Sevener?”

  I turned to the door. “I’m not quite sure, Vukasin. You would probably know better than I.”

  He laughed, deep and rumbling like his voice. His short, stocky figure had made me think of a basalt outcropping when I had first met him, and nothing had changed.

  “I probably do. Let’s discuss this in a more congenial spot.”

  He motioned, and I realized Arkady’s squad of Pathfinders stood in the hall with him. Several of them, including Maja, came in and gathered my packs.

  I needed no other prompting. I immediately put on my armor, belting my saex and sword belts in their appropriate place. I slung my shield over my shoulder and turned back.

  Vukasin looked amused, and this time his amusement reached his eyes.

  “You look bored. Are you ready to leave, then?”

  “More than you know. Where are we going?”

  “Much as it might be wiser to bring you back to Mrnjavcevic House, I think I would enjoy some of Ragnar’s famous ale on this day. I think you would enjoy it even more than I.”

  I nodded my thanks.

  A floor down, Andreas, still with that smiling benevolence, awaited us.

  “You’re welcome, Edward.”

  I looked at Andreas.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know. At Vukasin’s request, I have decided to release you. Nevertheless, I must assure you that you must ready yourself for service with the Emperor at His request, not when you feel you are ready.”

  “I thank you for the lesson in serving the Emperor.”

  “Vukasin, you and the Emperor’s servant have my permission to leave.”

  Vukasin cocked his head at Andreas. “Why thank you, Dux, for your permission.”

  Dry as the southern deserts were his words. Andreas sensed nothing and beamed steadily as he shook hands with Arkady’s Pathfinders as they passed him.

  At the steps overlooking Heartsquare, Pherenike stood at rest watching me leave. Her remote look told me nothing of her thoughts. She simply watched us walk out of Heartsquare and up the Trade Road to the Faerie.

  At the Faerie, Ragnar let out a loud “voof” at my entry. Zoe peeked out for a moment and then rushed out to hug me. She held me at arm’s length to make sure I had no wounds to be tended.

  “I’m fine, Zoe.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but patted my cheek peremptorily and pointed me to my seat.

  A smiling Vukasin took the moment to enjoy not being the most important person in a room. He idly motioned the Pathfinders to tables near the door, though Arkady detailed Maja and one other to stand guard outside the door.

  As I was about to sit, Eirik struck me with an impetuous hug. He immediately realized such hugs were not what teenage boys did, so he quickly let go.

  “Deor missed you,” he stammered.

  “I’m sure he did.”

  He quivered, not knowing what else to say.

  “Tell Deor I’ll be in soon, and give him an apple, please.”

  “Of course, Edward.”

  That he understood, and he rushed off.

  Now I sat down as Karah brusquely placed a pitcher and mugs at the table.

  “What were you thinking? Foolish outlander.” She sniffed and walked off.

  I looked at Vukasin with a grin. “She didn’t slap me. I think she’s ecstatic I’m back.”

  He laughed. “Clearly.”

  We filled our mugs, and Zoe brought out shopska salads and her bread toasted with salty goat cheese. Ragnar carried out a platter of roasted goat strips covered in rosemary flakes.

  Melia jumped on our table, and I pushed her to the far side of it, though I gave her bits of the goat as I ate. She accepted them with grace, and a flicking tail.

  “I should adopt Zoe and Ragnar into the Dassaretae.”

  I looked at Vukasin’s whimsical smile.

  “My aunts and cousins who cook for the Mrnjavcevic would revolt at the thought that Zoe was a better cook than they are, so please don’t tell them I think it’s true.”

  I chuckled. “I suppose I do owe you a favor after you got me released from the prison.”

  He sighed. “I didn’t do much.”

  I looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Finish your lunch first, and then let’s talk business.”

  I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but realized quickly enough that I could not push him, so I ate. As I was mopping the last drippings off of the platter with a hunk of the cheese-covered bread, Sebastijan joined us.

  Ragnar brought him a mug and removed our plates.

  I watched Vukasin and Sebastijan sizing each other up as Ragnar returned with baklava for all of us.

  “I suppose, since there’s baklava, I can accept an Enchelei sitting at the table across from me,” drawled Vukasin.

  “And I suppose, since there’s baklava, I can opt not to slay the zupan of the Dassaretae,” countered Sebastijan sarcastically.

  Vukasin laughed loudly. “I know your reputation too well to worry.”

  “You never know, I might make an exception for you.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Are you two done?”

  They chuckled and nodded. We ate our baklava. Afterwards, two skilled warriors and one of the great leaders of Achrida contentedly licked fingers clean of honey.

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “What, Vukasin?”

  “I didn’t do much to get you released,” he repeated.

  Sebastijan sighed in understanding. “Sevener, Vukasin is saying that you were let go.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I heard about your imprisonment almost immediately,” explained Vukasin. Zvono passed the news to me within the hour. I suspect Kapric did the same for Vesela.”

  “She probably wanted me to stay there.”

  “Not at all. She put pressure on Andreas to release you just as quickly.”

  “Really? I guess I owe you both thanks.”

  Vukasin shrugged. “I’m not sure you do. Governors here usually jump when zupans ask. Andreas had not previously shown more spine than his predecessors. I would have expected him to accede to whatever Vesela wished, much less me. Never
theless, he ignored both of us until this morning.”

  “What changed this morning?”

  “I don’t know, Edward. Perhaps this Enchelei knows.”

  Sebastijan shook his head. “I don’t know either. What I do know is someone called in a favor with Andreas.”

  I nodded.

  “I thought that too.”

  They both smiled at me.

  “You’re learning.”

  “Yes, Sebastijan, I am. That’s why I waited in that room.”

  “Do you think it was Ylli?” I asked.

  Sebastijan leaned back. “I’m not sure. How would Ylli earn a favor from Andreas?”

  “Is there someone who owes Ylli enough and has the ear of Andreas?”

  Vukasin shook his head. “Enough of an ear to ignore Vesela and me? Doubtful that I’d not be aware of the debt.”

  “And whoever it was made sure you were held by Andreas for three days just as we were about to travel to Lezh.”

  “Three extra days to plan something. An eternity,” rumbled the zupan.

  “Yes,” sighed Sebastijan. “We’ll have to figure out how to get past that trap.”

  “What now?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Edward. I can tell you that the Dassaretae know who you are and we will give you what aid we can, subject to the limits of our previous agreements. Should you need, you may draw upon my name as you see fit. Should you overstep, I know you’ll make good the bargain.”

  “I understand, Vukasin. And I thank you.”

  He nodded.

  “You have a trip to plan, and I think I know as much about it right now as I should. Safe travels, Sevener.”

  He turned to Sebastijan. “And you as well.”

  Sebastijan nodded and Vukasin turned to leave.

  “Oh, one more thing.”

  “Yes, Vukasin?”

  “I have heard good things about the Westering Winds Inn. While not perhaps as well run as the Frank Faerie, I think you’ll find it amenable and acceptable.”

  I nodded my thanks at Vukasin. I watched him leave, thinking about his suggestion. Arkady waved at me as his Pathfinders followed.

  “Did he just recommend a place run by the Dassaretae in Lezh?”

  “Yes. You’re definitely learning.”

  I thought about it. “You would have suggested an Enchelei inn.”

  “The Horse and Moon.”

  “Don’t the Lezhan zupans object?”

  “Why would they? We have legitimate business interests there, as they do here. There are several inns frequented by Lezhans here. Actually, all of the zupans like knowing where their legitimate competitors will stay.”

  “Makes sense, I suppose. Which should we go to?”

  “I don’t know that it matters. One the one hand, you as my employer will probably be known to favor the Mrnjavcevic because of your association with Piri. On the other, I as your employee would suggest the Horse and Moon.”

  “Even after Pal?”

  “Good point. I have no problem with the Westering Winds, actually. I’m known there as well as at the Horse and Moon. Vesela may or may not direct that you get extra help from the Horse and Moon’s staff, but I suspect Vukasin would never have suggested the Westering Winds in the first place had he not decided to instruct his people to help.”

  “He’s upset at Andreas.”

  “He’s livid at Andreas and whoever got to him.”

  “Piri told me the Imperial governor did whatever the zupans told him to.”

  “That’s why Vukasin is so mad. Andreas will pay for this. Dassaretae help for you is but one way that he’ll get his vengeance.”

  “And here I thought it was because of my friendship with Piri.”

  He chuckled. “That certainly doesn’t hurt, but make no mistake, whatever sentiment exists in that man is ruthlessly controlled by ambition and pride.”

  I shrugged. “Either way, we can use the help.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do we want to change the plan? Perhaps go to Lezh in secret?”

  “They already know we’re coming.”

  “So if we go surreptitiously they’ll know we’re after something other than what we say we’re after.”

  “Exactly. Our dealing with Timoshenko is plausible on its face. You could make a great deal of money brokering the sale of Sevenish armrings to the east.”

  I thought for a bit. “They’re not trying to prevent our dealings in Lezh. They’re going to ambush us on the way.”

  “That’s what I think, too.”

  “Crownstreet is the only road to Lezh, right?”

  Sebastijan did not respond. After a moment, I looked at him strangely.

  “The road’s not so full of ambush sites as one might think,” he muttered huskily.

  I continued to peer at him.

  “In the first two thirds of Crownstreet from here to Lezh, the narrow spots are sheer cuts that provide few spots for attackers to perch, while the wider spots provide little cover and easy escape routes.”

  “And the latter third?”

  “There’s an option.”

  “An option you don’t like.”

  “An option that terrifies me.”

  My mouth dropped in shock.

  He looked at me ruefully. “It’d terrify you too if you knew anything.”

  Chapter 18

  Afternoon, 6 Blommemoanne, 1712 MG

  Sebastijan filled his mug, drank it, and filled it again. “Do you know what a nuraghi is, Sevener?”

  I nodded. “Yes, there are four of them on the Old Road.”

  Sebastijan smiled slightly. “Of course, I should have remembered. You said you’d traveled the Old Road before we walked it that one night.”

  I nodded, remembering our tricky, barely-lit walk from one end of the city to another to escape Pal’s trap.

  He took a long drink and shuddered. “Those four are nothing. You don’t really understand the power of nuraghi from them. Some others are… something.”

  “Something? I do recall feeling something as I passed by one of the nuraghi on the Old Road.”

  “Yes, there’s a twitch we feel from that one. Nothing, however, like the Bardheküülle.”

  “The Bardheküülle?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s a nuraghi. The word is Old Lezhan and means the ‘White Tower.’”

  “Where is this tower?”

  “It is on a mountaintop between here and Lezh.”

  “And I presume it is white?”

  “It is the brightest limestone you have ever seen, pristine and perfectly cut.”

  “Aren’t nuraghi supposed to be ancient?”

  He nodded.

  “They are ancient.”

  “Then how is its limestone so pristine? Have people kept it up?”

  He snorted.

  “Not likely. No one wants to go to the Bardheküülle.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Everyone who approaches the Bardheküülle is immediately consumed with anger. All your greatest fears and frustrations threaten you. Most lash out at their companions as they approach.”

  “But it lies along an alternate route that might elude an ambush.”

  “Yes. Theoretically, if we take the Bujerruge past the tower, we avoid the most dangerous locations on Crownstreet.”

  “But?”

  “I’m a brave man, Sevener. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to go past the Bardheküülle again.”

  “Again?”

  “I went as an arrogant lad with two others of my kin. Their bones remain on that hill.” He emptied his mug again. “Or at least, no man has moved them from that day that I know of.”

  “How did they die?”

  “I killed them.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because one had, as a child, taken my dinner, and the other because he had once fancied a girl I myself fancied.”

  “So you killed them?”

  “They attacked me.” He
rolled his mug from hand to hand.

  “But…?”

  “But I would have attacked them soon enough.”

  “What happened to that place?”

  “No one knows, but the Love Stream of magic is evil there, cursed and cursing.”

  “Could an enchanter help?”

  “I would guess so. I have not asked. I don’t think about that place anymore.”

  He filled his mug again, adding, “It’s actually an easier walk, as the Bujerruge was surely the road to Lezh when the nuraghi was first placed there.”

  “Who built the nuraghi?”

  “No one knows. The best guess is they were built by the Giants.”

  “The Giants? You’re saying this building is near two thousand years old and is in perfect shape?”

  “Disbelieve me as you will, you can’t know until you’ve been there.”

  “It just seems so unlikely.”

  He looked at me wanly. “I know. I felt that way once too.”

  I absorbed what he said. “Do you think it’s safer going that way instead of the other?”

  “I don’t know, Sevener.”

  I waited.

  “I’m sure an ambush waits for us before we get to Lezh.”

  “I agree. Is there a way to make the passage safer?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Will the Bardheküülle affect our horses? Deor’s cranky enough as it is.”

  Sebastijan looked at me and then shakily laughed. “I never once thought of that. I don’t know. Trust a crazy Sevener to worry about his crazy horse at the Bardheküülle.”

  I smiled. “Deor knows me better than most. I’m not sure I’d be alive without him.”

  Sebastijan’s look questioned me.

  “I was healing from the battle where I killed my father while fighting in Penwulf’s service.”

  Sebastijan nodded. He had been there when I had explained my past to the Gropas.

  “Bedarth healed my body but struggled to heal the rest of me. I hated myself. I hated that I lived. I hated Cynric and Penwulf and all the rest, and I didn’t even know why I hated, just that I did. Then one day, Cynric’s men brought Deor into their training ring.” I snorted fondly. “With difficulty,”

  “Difficulty?”

  I laughed. “It took all of their handlers to pull him into the ring. At least four of them were bloodied by the time they did it. Deor spent the next hour running around the ring, biting at the ropes and anyone who he could reach.”