Princess of Blood

by Tom Lloyd

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ Toil said firmly.

  ‘Why? Can you control him?’

  ‘He’ll be too busy. There’s work to be done in the next few days and pervert that he is, Ammen’s a good diplomat who’s got the right sort of family name to be of use in a city like this, to be of use to Su Dregir. A titled senator doesn’t get his name dragged through the dirt, both the nobility and Senate raise objections in half a dozen ways when that happens.’

  ‘So, what then?’

  ‘So the good captain here,’ Toil said, giving Onerist a kick, ‘will be delighted to assist us in ensuring the Envoy is steered clear of all such places.’

  ‘Damned if I will,’ mumbled Onerist from the floor. ‘Consider your company’s contract cancelled, anyone wearing your badges will be imprisoned if they ever set foot in Su Dregir again.’

  Toil properly put her weight into a second kick and Onerist howled. ‘I don’t think you really understand me, captain. It wasn’t a request, it was an instruction. If you want to raise an objection, please do be brief – if nothing else but because while you’re talking I’ll ram a signed warrant from the Archelect down your throat.’

  It took the man a while to stop moaning, but at last he squinted up at her again, face contorted and panting.

  ‘What?’

  She gave him a pitying look and bent down to speak to him as she would a child. ‘I’m not just some mercenary, Onerist, and I have a job to do so be a good boy and don’t get in my way.’ She straightened up. ‘As for you lot, you’ll help the captain divert Ammen’s attention for a few days, I’m sure you can be creative on that front.’

  ‘And him?’ Payl asked, nodding towards the terrified Lighthouse Guard.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about Paranil,’ she said, smiling sweetly at the man. ‘He’s not much of a soldier, I admit, but he has his own particular skills. Captain Onerist’s family standing got him this position, but he’s not picky about who he commands so I chose for him.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Suitable for special assignment,’ she confirmed.

  ‘Ah right,’ Lynx said. ‘That sort. Guess he’s an improvement on the last one I met at least.’

  He scowled as he spoke. Toil was a woman of many parts, one of which was a presence within the Su Dregir underworld. Both Lynx and Toil were still carrying the injuries they sustained during the Skyriver Festival, when one of her associates had attempted a coup.

  ‘I assure you,’ Paranil stammered, ‘I had no part in what was done to you.’

  ‘Doubt you’d still be breathing if you did.’ Lynx felt his glower deepen as he remembered the torture, but the writings of Vagrim loomed large in his mind. Hate is a poison, drink it and you sicken. Anger is a drug, indulge in it and you will lose yourself.

  Lynx took a deep breath. ‘No one left for me to hold a grudge against anyway,’ he said with a certain effort, ‘the rest is Toil’s business. Only question is whether she’s going to tell us what this is all about yet?’

  ‘Hadn’t planned on it, no.’

  He bit back his irritation. ‘So what then?’

  ‘For the time being, we let the Envoy do his work. There are serious trade negotiations to take place and I don’t want to get in the way of that. Relations between Su Dregir and Jarrazir have never been particularly good and he’s not got long to improve that position.’

  ‘And it needs to be improved?’

  Toil shot him a sharp look. ‘Yes, as much as possible. Until everything goes to shit here, he’s important, understand me?’ she added, speaking directly to Payl.

  ‘You seem pretty confident it will all go to shit.’

  ‘I’ve read the same books about this labyrinth the Militant Orders will have,’ she said. ‘Damn right I’m confident. It’s been what, a week, since Matarin opened it? Two?’

  She started listing on her fingers.

  ‘There’s a toll-fortress just a hundred miles up the canal full of Knight-Artificers who’ll claim anything like this labyrinth falls under purview of the god Catrac and those Orders devoted to him. A monastery of Knights of the Fist even closer in the Kitrabil Hills and might sniff an opportunity. But Salorine Bas is our biggest problem; the city’s a staging point for Knights-Charnel campaigns in the east so we could have a full army marching south right now. Even if they act all polite at first, if there’s any chance of God Fragments they’ll come in numbers and they won’t leave without the full cache – it’s just a case of what they bother to offer in return. They’re armed fanatics the lot of them, so one misstep by the Monarch in negotiations and they’ll turn like rabid dogs.’

  ‘So what do you want us to do about it?’

  ‘Before anything else, find Lastani Ufre.’

  ‘The fugitive mage?’ Lynx said as the others looked blank. ‘Isn’t the whole city looking for her, though?’

  ‘But they’ve not found her,’ Toil replied. ‘Nor has she turned herself in. It might be she fled the city, it might be she’s just keeping her head down. She’s a local girl and a scholar, not a criminal. Staying on the run won’t be easy and leaving poses its own problems. If an outsider is looking for her she might take a risk and come to me instead.’

  ‘Why?’

  She gave Lynx a brief smile. ‘Don’t you trust my charms?’

  ‘If you were looking for a horny teenage boy, sure.’

  ‘Your lack of faith is wounding, but I have a plan.’

  ‘What about the rest of us?’ Payl asked.

  ‘The Cards? Who’re the tactical brains in the company?’

  ‘You’re looking at her.’ She paused. ‘I guess in a booze-free city you could say Anatin too.’

  ‘I need a map of the city. If it does come to a fight I want to know where everything is – mark the defensive points and entrances to the labyrinth.’

  ‘Sounds like spying,’ Payl pointed out, ‘the locals might not like that.’

  ‘Try not to look like spies then.’

  ‘Oh right, when you put it like that, sure.’

  ‘And me?’ Lynx asked.

  Toil nodded. ‘I’ve got a special job for you, one men have killed for in the past. I need you to watch my arse while I trawl the city.’

  Lynx snorted.

  Her eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, and bring a friend, would you?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Chaperone.’ Toil grinned. ‘I wouldn’t want to get a reputation now, would I? Sitain will do. I’ll meet you both at the lodgings, first I need to make friendly with the Envoy.’

  Payl’s face went stony. ‘Why?’

  ‘Groundwork. Flair and a certain devastating charm may get me … well, almost everywhere come to think of it, but sometimes laying a few foundations doesn’t hurt.’

  Chapter 9

  Toil paused outside the Envoy’s study door and straightened her tunic. She took a deep breath and worked her mouth into an obsequious smile before knocking on the door.

  ‘Come.’

  She opened the door and stepped through. The Envoy lounged in a wing-backed chair at the window, looking out through diamond panes at the gardens beyond. He was a big man, comfortably taller than Toil and broad-shouldered. Middle age had softened the lines and rounded every corner, but one look at those dark brown eyes was enough to convince her that he was no soft son of wealth.

  ‘Senator Ammen,’ Toil ventured after she’d closed the door behind her and bowed.

  He glanced over, looking her up and down like a side of beef.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My name is Toil, I’m second in command of the Mercenary Deck, as I’m sure you’ll remember,’ she said, adopting a more refined accent than usual.

  ‘And?’

  She gave a small bob of the head. ‘I merely came to apologise for the disruption outside, I’m not sure if you heard it.’

  ‘Hard to not notice a commotion, even from this side of the house. That woman, was it? The one with a hatchet face?’

  ‘She had a disag
reement with Captain Onerist, yes, sir.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m afraid my colleagues are a mixed bunch, some rather more of the “vile brethren” than others.’

  Ammen’s eyebrow raised, as she’d expected. ‘Vile brethren? You’ve studied the works of Subest Rer?’

  Toil bobbed again. ‘I was not born a mercenary, senator.’

  ‘Yet you are one now, and comrade to some uncouth fools who do not know their place.’

  ‘It grieves me to admit that is so, but they have their uses and their place has been explained to them once more. I’m afraid they’re a little out of their usual haunts in the better parts of town – it’s caused them to act up in the way children do.’

  ‘At least they are commanded by someone who knows how to be civilised.’ He turned slightly to give her his full attention, a twitch of his fingers. ‘Tell me, how is it you came to be part of them?’

  ‘My brother inherited some of my father’s boorish ways,’ she admitted, choosing a variant of the truth. ‘He joined a mercenary company when I was young. Not long after, the family suffered a setback and we were left destitute and shamed. My education could not overcome certain barriers so I joined my brother to serve as his assistant. He had risen to quartermaster by then, an educated man always being in demand, and I quickly discovered the more violent aspects of the life didn’t bother me as much as I’d anticipated.’

  ‘And your family name?’

  She gave a small bow at that. ‘My apologies, senator, but as we say in the company, “no card’s past continues to the new hand”. We all bear only one name and do not allow our past to count against us. I would not want my father’s failings to affect me any more than they already have.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said as he leaned forward and steepled his fingers. His lips tightened as though he’d just sucked on something sour. ‘I’ve seen some of your men, however. Their past is clear to most. That Hanese thug, that Olostir fop in the skirt – not the usual sort I’d want guarding my door.’

  ‘The Olostir wars are remembered by few these days, I would venture, senator, and Safir is a man of considerable culture and refinement. In addition to that, he had the finest weapons tutors in his youth; you will rarely find a finer man with blade or gun. I realise the shade of his skin counts against him in some parts, but he is a valuable sergeant of the company.’

  ‘And the Hanese with that tattoo on his face? Don’t tell me he’s a cultured and honest soul!’

  Toil smiled. ‘Merciful gods no, he’s a thug and a killer when he’s not stuffing his face with any food within reach. But So Han did not value morality or intellect among their soldiery, preferring skill and obedience instead.’

  Ammen nodded approvingly. ‘And the one who quarrelled with Captain Onerist?’

  ‘She will be disciplined by the company. The captain was, ah, a little undignified in reminding her of her place, Senator Ammen. If you could see your way to ignoring the entire incident I believe we would all be grateful for your magnanimity.’

  ‘Undignified?’ the senator sniffed. ‘He’s a man of good family, how he chooses to deal with his inferiors is not yours to judge.’

  ‘Of course not, sir, but the gentlefolk of Jarrazir were somewhat taken aback. They are a deeply pious folk after all and the captain was less than politic in his choice of words – however appropriate they might have been in Su Dregir. I believe he would choose differently had he the opportunity again.’

  The Envoy’s face darkened. Any gross profanity publicly spoken by one of his own bodyguards could be reported back to the Monarch to colour her view of Su Dregir. As loyal as he was to his class, Toil suspected that Ammen’s own success would take precedence.

  ‘I see. Very well – see to it no such altercation happens again and I’ll look away. Just ensure that woman’s presence doesn’t darken this place again.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Toil bowed again. ‘If that will be all, sir?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He had already turned away by the time she retreated to the door and shut it behind herself. Toil was careful to be down the corridor by the time she let her fixed expression fail.

  ‘Smug inbred prick,’ she muttered darkly. ‘He’ll be no great loss.’

  ‘I’m starting to see the flaw in this plan,’ Sitain muttered two days later, hugging herself and stamping her feet to restore some warmth.

  Lynx chuckled bitterly and blew into his cupped hands. ‘Flaw? What flaw? I love the cold.’

  ‘Well that makes one of us. Gods-in-shards, how many more places is she going to try today?’

  A few tiny flakes of snow drifted past their faces in the fading light of day. The last few days had seen the cold steadily deepen, one last unexpected gasp of winter that had coincided with the pair being outside for hours on end.

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Lynx said, ‘but the more miserable you look, the more likely Toil is to call it a day.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Not a bloody chance. She’s the one who’s spending half her time inside, remember?’

  Sitain growled and hunkered down in her coat even more. She had a scarf wrapped over her head and across her face, looking more like a vagrant than a mercenary. She didn’t have a gun either, only a dagger she could barely use, but as a mage she was never entirely helpless.

  ‘This is a long bloody shot,’ she said after a less than a minute.

  ‘Yeah, you said that before,’ Lynx replied. ‘And yesterday too.’

  ‘So why’re we still out here?’

  ‘You’re the damn fool who wanted to be a mercenary,’ he said with a slightly forced grin. ‘That Jester o’ Sun card not keeping you warm? I’m afraid this is the soldier’s life, long periods of getting bored, hungry and cold, followed by very short periods of getting killed.’

  ‘Piss on you. Why’re you still here if that’s the case? Can’t be just for her, can it?’ Sitain said, nodding towards the coffeehouse Toil had gone into ten minutes earlier.

  Lynx shrugged. ‘All I’m good for, really. It’s not for her.’

  ‘Sure about that? Could’ve fooled me.’

  Lynx didn’t reply. He didn’t have any more to say on the subject, but he was cold and he was bored so his temper wasn’t far from the surface, no matter how cheerful he tried to be. The veneer had grown thin over days of following Toil from eatery to café, inn to flop house, smoke-den to alchemist parlour, and he was having to try hard to not snap at the young woman.

  But she may have a point. If Toil’s dragging us into something serious, how long do I stick around? I want to be a real soldier again about as much as I want to go into that bloody labyrinth. No flirtation or whatever in the deepest black there is between me and Toil is going to change that.

  ‘Guess I’ve managed to adopt some mercenary habits,’ Sitain said after a while.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Bloody gasping for a drink now.’

  ‘Yeah, that bit you’ve got right. Reckon Anatin’s going to have himself a problem soon, some of our boys aren’t keen on being so dry.’

  Sitain gave a little head tilt. ‘Varain found himself some moonshine the first day we arrived,’ she countered. ‘Ulax reckons he’s made a contact at the docks who can supply brandy and Llaith has word of a pleasure ship moored somewhere out on the west shore of the bay, where the nobles live. He says so long as it’s out in the bay rather than docked, the authorities are willing to turn a blind eye. Need to be dressed like a nob to get in of course, but he’s going to take a few empty hip flasks along once he finds himself a courtesan willing to introduce him to the right people.’

  ‘Figures.’

  ‘Better than having them beat the crap out of each other when they start to get twitchy.’

  Lynx nodded. ‘Aye, true.’ He stiffened and eased back into the shadow of the building they were sheltering behind. ‘Here she comes.’

  Sitain followed suit, not waiting to catch sight of Toil before retreating. It was a simple enoug
h task she’d assigned them, however dull it might be. Without alcohol even taverns here were restrained places, serving meals and a few of the milder narcotics to the masses. Trouble was unlikely to flare up inside those, while the smoke-houses and alchemist parlours had a cliental mostly reluctant to get out of their seats if the building was burning.

  Given Toil was trying not to look like an agent of the Monarch or anyone else official, she wasn’t watching her back even in the less salubrious areas, leaving that job to Lynx and Sitain. Thus far she’d got nowhere as she questioned owners and managers about Lastani Ufre, attracting only mystified looks from those overhearing the conversation. But it was a numbers game – they had no other cards to play in an unfamiliar city so had to hope Toil could sell herself as a decent bet.

  Toil’s muted footsteps tramped towards them across the packed dirt of the street. She appeared around the corner, hands stuffed in her pockets and a drover’s hat leaving her face in shadow.

  ‘Three more today,’ she muttered as she passed them, not even looking in their direction. ‘Badren Ovens next.’

  She had passed before they could reply, but neither bothered to argue despite the cold. The pair waited a while for footsteps in the street beyond in case someone had followed Toil out, but all was quiet.

  ‘Ovens,’ Sitain commented, ‘sounds nice and warm.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Lynx grumbled. ‘If she doesn’t bring us a loaf out afterwards at least I might shoot her.’ He sighed and set off after Toil. ‘This city might be dry as a … Dry as a place without booze anyway – but I like this idea of people gathering everywhere they make food.’

  ‘I doubt Toil’s much of a fan,’ Sitain said. ‘Makes her list of places to check twice as long. And that’s even before we bother with opium dens and the like.’

  ‘Sounds like this mage is a good and studious little girl. A smoke-house or alchemist parlour is one thing, but she’ll steer clear of the more dubious houses.’

  ‘Reckon we’ll find the girl?’

  ‘Dunno, but it’s either this or we sit around listening to Deern recite the list of things he doesn’t like about Jarrazir while Varain smokes whatever he can get his hands on. Or if you’re desperate, I hear Himbel does a good lecture on genital hygiene and diseases. Been known to put some recruits off the life entirely, so Kas tells me.’