by T. A. Miles
Korsten sat forward a bit, worry beginning to hammer in his chest. “How do you mean?”
Merran looked at both the other men, then said, more to Korsten, “You may already have a resident Vadryn. If the one that’s just arrived hasn’t been summoned, there’s liable to be—if you’ll excuse the expression—a struggle for territory.”
“What does that entail?” Korsten almost didn’t want to ask.
Merran shook his head slightly, seeming lost in his thoughts. He gave his next words to no one in particular. “It depends on the power of the intruder. The Vadryn are partial to displays of dominance. It could involve more deaths, for the sake of gaining strength as well as proving it.”
“But, you could be wrong,” Hedren said, as if grasping at assurances.
Merran looked at him severely. “I could be, yes. But I dare not leave here until I’m sure. One way or the other.”
“I agree,” Korsten said, sure that he didn’t want the only person who might have truly known what was going on in Haddowyn leaving it just yet. That didn’t change the fact that he had been ordered to leave the city, however. “We need discretion from you as you get this sorted out, Merran. What do you need from us?”
The merest smile traced the mage’s lips as he transferred his blue gaze back to Korsten. “I need another audience with Lord Camirey.”
Korsten drew in a long breath and let it out very slowly. “I rescind my apology where my initial assessment of you is concerned. You are mad.”
“I must be given access to the individuals stricken with this unidentified illness which you claim has been afflicting Haddowyn for at least two years,” Merran explained, utterly serious again. “Through them, it’s possible that I can trace the demon’s signature to an individual, or at least a specific location.”
Glancing at the constable, Korsten said, “Forgive me, Hedren, but I’m not sure how to ask this.” He looked at Merran again. “What if the demon turned out to be someone in Hedren’s household? I mean, you did say that’s a possibility.”
“It is,” Merran admitted. “However, I suspect if the Vadryn were actually tormenting the soul of one of the constable’s loved ones, he would know about it, unless he was being controlled himself.” The mage looked at Hedren, who suddenly appeared a little faint. “From my experience, he does not appear to be under any unnatural influence.”
The constable sighed audibly and Korsten felt relieved himself.
“The Vadryn are very skilled at concealing themselves when they want to,” Merran added. “It requires spellcraft to detect them, but once detected, once the signature has been linked to a specific soul, it is much more difficult for them to lose themselves again.”
“Well, I suppose all I can do at this point is leave it in your hands,” Korsten said. “I understand that time may be a delicate issue, but I would prefer it, Merran, if you reported your findings to me before acting on them.”
Merran nodded, as if to agree, though he did not actually voice a promise. He said instead, “I know the hour grows late, but I would like to begin the search at once.”
“I can take you to my home tonight,” Hedren volunteered. “To have a look at my son. In fact, you can board with us, if you like. The better to keep an eye on you as well as other eyes off you.”
“Thank you, Constable,” Merran said.
“Well, that was easy enough,” Korsten sighed. “But a second visit to the governor’s manor is another matter altogether. You’re going to have to give me time, Merran. Apart from my friendship with his son, I do hold some merit in Lord Camirey’s eyes, but he’s not exactly been himself as of late due to Edmore’s condition. He’s liable not to listen to me any quicker than he was willing to hear you or the chief constable, or even his own son. I can’t guarantee you anything, but I can warn you that he may relieve me of my position if news of your lingering presence disturbs him too greatly. In that event, I’ll be able to assist you no further.”
Again, Merran waited for him to finish speaking. Then he said, “In that event, the Seminary would be inclined to assist you. We are not in the habit of displacing others through our business.”
“I thank you for the sentiment, of course,” Korsten replied, standing. “However, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t find myself overly comforted by the gesture. Now, if you’re needing nothing more from me at the moment, I believe I shall retire for the night. I’ll send a messenger up to the manor first thing come dawn. Good enough?”
Merran nodded once. “It is more than I had come to hope for, Vicegerent Brierly. My thanks.”
Korsten nodded in response, then bid both the other men goodnight, and saw himself out of the constabulary. Teah was waiting for him outside. He unwound her bridle from a short post in front of the building and slid up into her saddle after stroking the mare’s sleek neck. As he guided her around, toward home, he looked irresistibly toward the thick woods overlooking Haddowyn on its south side. Nothing but trees. The scenery at the north end of the city was almost identical, save the manor’s towers cresting above the canopy, usually only visible during the day. On a night with ample moonlight, one could see the pale gray stone against the dark forest surrounding the manor. On a night such as this, however, there was nothing to see but darkness. That had never troubled Korsten before, but now, thinking that something foul might have been lurking in those woods to either side of Haddowyn, that such a thing might indeed have been lurking very near to his beloved, made him sick with fear.
Please, be safe, Ren. And please, forgive me for what I am about to do. I fear that arguing with your father on Merran’s behalf will make him angry with me, perhaps enough to force a wedge between us. I’ll risk that, beloved, to be assured of your safety. For you, I would give up my livelihood, and my life as well.
Sleep came in restless spurts. It was as if the day behind Korsten had waited until he was lying with his guard completely down to catch up to him, all at once. He found himself in the midst of a nightmare; grotesque, haunting images that not only forced him awake, but that continued precisely where they’d left off whenever he dared close his eyes again. Mostly he saw people dead, killed by the Vadryn. It began with Seryline Rolce and her father—the two actual victims—then continued with individuals who were still alive, friends and acquaintances of his as well as strangers with familiar faces.
Hedren was the first; his body rendered little more than an open sack of spilled blood and entrails. Several others at the constabulary followed. Without question that was due to the fact that their images were impressed upon his mind since he’d recently come from there. In accordance to that logic, Penna and Donnel—the last two people he’d looked upon that evening—were also slain, though there were others claimed between them and Hedren’s men. Korsten woke himself up before Renmyr was added to the list and what really disturbed him at the moment was Markam. The boy had also died in his dream. While Korsten felt relatively assured that a demon had not broken into his house and slain his resident cook and personal servant, he would have no way of knowing that Markam was all right until he returned in the morning from visiting his aunt on the other side of town. That was something he always did with a night off; returned to his actual home, and Korsten wished dearly that he hadn’t this one time.
Lying alone in the darkness, skin tingling with cold perspiration beneath the bedding, Korsten forbade himself any further sleep. He would rather be tired than terrified, and he would be in near hysterics, he was sure, if he envisioned Renmyr’s murder at the hands of some foul creature. He decided instead to simply think of Renmyr, his lover, his beloved, healthy and safe. He wondered if Renmyr would wake up soon, out of habit, prepared to carry himself to a different room before he realized he’d spent the night alone and in his own bed. Assuming he had. Maybe he’d gone to drown his anger in ale after his father’s wrongly aimed anger struck him. Perhaps a certain overeager little trollop took
pity on him in his dark state and offered him more than sympathy.
Are you with her now, Ren? If Hedren’s suspicions are any indication, then it doesn’t appear to be helping your image at all, so why don’t you just stop? Even if it is providing you an image, it isn’t a very pleasant one. Can’t you just stop anyway? But what’s the point? You can’t escape marriage forever, and then what are we going to do? I can’t share you, Ren. Not like that. I’m not going to be Uncle Korsten to your wife’s children, who will be constantly around reminding me that you have a wife.
He turned on his mattress, clutching the pillow beneath his head, taking in a different view of darkness from the ceiling, one with silhouettes of furniture to give it dimension. We’ve been fooling ourselves, Ren. There’s no hope for us. Not in this life. But you are my life. I don’t want anyone else, ever. And after I came here so determined to shut myself in and away from everyone. I’d had someone at home in Cenily, who’d become my lover, and the reason Father sent me away, but he wasn’t what you are. I felt sorry for myself, not for losing him and I’m certain he didn’t miss me beyond a week. Not desperately, anyway. Not like I need you, Ren. And I can’t share you. It’s shredding me inside. I think I know why I act so helpless around you; and Hedren’s right, it is acting. It’s because I’m constantly competing. I want you to realize how much I need you, how I need you more than anyone else, and that I’d be utterly lost without you. Why can’t I just say it? Why can’t I just tell you how I feel about all of this? Would it make any difference, Ren, if I did? I don’t think it would. I don’t think it’s within our power to change this situation we’ve gotten ourselves into.
Korsten blinked and a tear rolled out of one eye, across the bridge of his nose and onto the pillow. Ren … I love you.
To Korsten Brierly, Vicegerent of Haddowyn and Revered Colleague,
Thank you, friend, for your letter of support and concern. My sons are both doing well, in consideration to recent afflictions and lingering ailments. Let me say that neither of them is in mortal peril, though Edmore has still not shown marked improvement. Renmyr is troubled over his brother’s condition, of course, but with thanks to friends such as you, he remains reliable as a son and as an heir, should the role be required of him. I know I can expect great things from him, and from you. You have proven to be as efficient and trustworthy as Fand ever was. I hope to have you around for a very long time. Continue with the good work and don’t bother yourself with a meeting at this time. It isn’t necessary. I heard about what happened and, as you were evidently the victim of that charlatan’s vulgar performance, I don’t blame you for a little panic. I trust you’re over it now and that the matter has been resolved.
Ithan Camirey, Governor of Haddowyn
Korsten lowered the letter. He’d been put off. He had not expected a return message when he sent one to the manor that morning, more or less announcing his coming. Formally, it had been a request for a meeting, but that was often just etiquette. Not this time. He’d been as much as told not to go to the manor. Ithan must have seriously been upset by the previous day’s events or Edmore’s failing health, regardless of the words currently in Korsten’s hand.
Revered colleague? What could that have been about? Ithan seemed to be going out of his way to make certain Korsten believed he was satisfied with the performance of his duties. He never included such affectations in his letters. In fact, barring the familiar penmanship, it could easily have been penned by another hand.
It may have been that he wasn’t feeling himself. Perhaps he just wanted to be left alone. That would have been understandable, but something about the way this message had come back disturbed Korsten, especially after all that Merran had said. Despite what Ithan might have believed, Korsten did not consider himself the victim of some ‘charlatan’s performance’. He remembered all too well what it felt like to have Areld’s hands clawing at his leg.
“Sir,” came a familiar voice. “You have visitors.”
“Who are they?” Korsten asked, glancing over the letter from Lord Camirey again.
“Constable Hedren and Master Merran, sir,” came the reply and Korsten finally realized who was speaking to him.
He looked up at Donnel with a curious frown. “Where’s Markam?”
“The boy hasn’t returned yet,” the elder answered. “Perhaps he is still breakfasting at his aunt’s.”
“Perhaps,” Korsten murmured, imagining that he failed to conceal his sudden concern as he thought back on his nightmare. At length, he said, “Thank you, Donnel. See them in, will you?”
Donnel did as was requested of him and Korsten found himself once again in the company of Haddowyn’s constable and the mysterious mage he would have dismissed for a lunatic not all that long ago.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Korsten greeted. “I’m glad to see you’re both safe. Did you find anything out?”
They both just looked at him, each grave in their own way. They appeared in expression as if they had just crawled from Hedren’s home over streets littered with corpses.
“It’s worse,” the constable finally said.
And now it was Korsten’s turn to stare. He looked from one man to the other, seeking explanation.
Merran offered it. “The young man I examined last night is indeed pinned under the will of another.”
Korsten almost asked who, then recalled they were discussing demons. He asked instead, “Are you certain?”
Merran nodded. “I am. Have you contacted Lord Camirey?”
Korsten displayed the creased parchment in his hand. “I’ve been given instructions not to visit the manor today.”
“Is that normal?” Merran asked next.
Korsten shook his head, drawing the letter back toward himself so that he could examine it again. “No. In fact, there is very little about this message that I would find usual at all. It’s been bothering me as well the way he lost his temper over your visit.”
“With what you told me upon our first meeting, I was expecting it,” Merran said.
“Well, I guess I didn’t do the governor any justice, then, did I? He’s known for his temper, but not to that degree. He’s a reasonable man, who’s usually interested in hearing something of what a man has to say before having him escorted out of town. Based on what Hedren told me, it seems as if he didn’t listen at all.”
“He didn’t,” Hedren confirmed.
“And that isn’t like him,” Korsten said to Merran. In a moment, he sighed and deposited the letter on the nearest shelf; he’d spent another morning in his library. “Anyway, I’d say your chances of getting a look at Edmore are very close to none at all. Not today, at least. Is it necessary, though, I have to wonder, knowing now what you know of Loel?”
“The only thing I’ve determined yet from the young man is that he’s being influenced,” Merran informed. “More that he’s been influenced, but not frequently enough for the demon’s signature to be clear. I have reason to suspect that it would resonate stronger in Edmore Camirey, which will lead me to the resident Vadryn. The newcomer I’ll have to track through more mundane methods, as it has not been here long enough to enforce its will upon anyone outside of the soul it’s claimed. Not to a great degree, at any rate.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Korsten promised. “If Renmyr comes by, perhaps I can enlist his assistance. Though again, I cannot promise anything. Is there something else I can do in the meantime?”
He was answered with silence. It lingered entirely too long.
“What is it?” he finally asked. “What’s happened?”
“Kor,” Hedren said, almost sympathetically. “Young Markam….”
“What about him?” Korsten wanted to know, his voice firming. He may have been squeamish about dead things attacking him, but he didn’t like to be treated like a skittish foal, all the same.
“His aunt came to me this m
orning,” Hedren answered. His reluctance to spit out his information was beginning to grate. “I know you’ve come to regard the young man almost as a little brother….”
“Constable, what are you trying to say?” Korsten demanded, cursing that his eyes were misting with unshed tears.
Finally, the words came, though they had to come from Merran. “The boy never arrived at his aunt’s last night.”
“He went riding,” Korsten guessed, speaking softly, though he glared at the one who’d as much as told him that the young man had been murdered. Or at least fallen off his horse and broken his neck. “I … told Donnel to tell him….”
“I’m sorry, Kor,” Hedren offered.
“The constable and I intend to search for the body,” Merran informed.
Korsten recovered himself. “I’ll help you. I know the routes he likes to take.”
“Actually, I’d rather you weren’t involved,” Merran replied and while Korsten stared at him, both angry and confused, he added, “Your relationship to the boy will make it too difficult for you to witness his fate, if the worst has indeed befallen him.”
Korsten’s expression fell flat. “It’s because I screamed yesterday, isn’t it? Well, it’s a little different when a man who is evidently dead attacks one. I wouldn’t get so near the body again, I can promise you that and also that I’ve no intention of embarrassing either of you or myself again.”
“You’re not needed, Kor,” Hedren told him, sounding sterner than he had previously. “I can identify the boy, if it’s necessary. You’d be better help to this cause waiting here for Renmyr to pay a visit.”
“Don’t patronize me, Hedren,” Korsten said irritably. He didn’t know if it was anger or realization that made him say what he said next. “You have been since yesterday evening, haven’t you?”
Hedren looked at the floor briefly, then lifted his gaze back up and met Korsten’s glare with unexpected patience. “We can talk later, Kor, but let me tell you this now. Your uncle was a dear friend of mine, close to brother. He looked out for you like you were his own son and, out of respect for him, I’ll do the same. That’s all I’ve got to say right now.”