Braylar fixed his stare at me, and it seemed somehow filled with equal parts rage, sadness, and a haunted desperation I couldn’t name or understand. “So, the question of a good death or bad is not so easy to answer as it might appear.”
With that, he rose unsteadily and made his way to his chamber.
There was little to say after that, but that didn’t stop Vendurro. He looked at me. “You heard him go on like that before. I could tell you must have heard him recounting something similar like. You didn’t seem a lick surprised. Had to have been in the grass. That right?”
I nodded. “One of the Hornmen he killed. Though the soldier didn’t die right away. The wound the captain gave him, it took a while to kill him. Then the memories came on him all at once. This priestguard captain, he died right away, so Braylar has had more time to be… poisoned by the memories. That’s how Lloi described it.”
Vendurro shook his head, then looked at Hewspear. “And you, Lieutenant, you didn’t seem surprised at all to hear the telling. You seen this before too, I reckon.”
The older man’s posture was rigid, as he moved only when he had to—his ribs were clearly still paining him. But it was hard to imagine a man sitting more upright with a more slumped demeanor about him. “I’ve seen this before. While no one in our company is unaware that he is afflicted with something, we do try to keep the worst details shrouded. It’s gotten worse the last few years. Lloi helped him for a time, but now…” Hewspear let the thought trail off.
Vendurro bore the same expression he had when we were all standing before the Godveil at the ruined temple, torn between wonder and fear, contemplating something beyond our scope of understanding. He shook his head. “Ain’t natural at all, what’s happening to Cap. And it ain’t natural that someone’s got to fix him. Like you said, I always knew he was battling something queer, something unnatural, but seeing it, or hearing it rather…” He asked the next question to both of us. “We came by Lloi by luck alone. What happens if Mulldoos can’t find another Lloi? I know we can’t get no Memoridon, but seems like the choices are growing mighty thin.”
Hewspear slowly rose to his feet. He took a shallow breath and said, “Perhaps this won’t be a bad spell. Some are worse than others. He seems to be managing well enough for now. Perhaps that will continue.”
It was difficult to tell if he believed that or was merely reciting it for our benefit—I doubted he was as skilled a liar as Braylar, but then I didn’t think Braylar was as skilled at deception as he actually was.
Hewspear walked out of the common quarters, maybe before Vendurro had a chance to ask any more questions, though he seemed to have exhausted them, as he simply stared down at the table, took a small drink of ale, shook his head, and continued staring at the moisture ring there.
Part of me was tempted to stay, to talk to him about it, perhaps to listen as he worked through what he’d heard from his captain. But I also sensed that he was uncomfortable, and so I stood up as well, considered saying something else, and then realized I didn’t know what to say, and that even if I had, I wasn’t particularly in the mood to say it.
I headed to my room, staying there the remainder of the day. With evening coming on, and my stomach grumbling, having only eaten some wrinkled fruit and stale cheese in my room, I decided it was time to stretch my legs. Maybe leaving the Grieving Dog wasn’t the smartest idea, but that didn’t mean I had to stay holed up like a trembling bird. I could at least head to the ground floor and take a proper meal. Hopefully there would be somewhere I could sit without having to force conversation with anyone else, but either way, it would be good to be among people who didn’t have a surplus of secrets, grief, or shadowy curses.
The Grieving Dog filled up quickly enough, and even with all the vaulted nooks and small shadowy alcoves, there was still a real shortage of secluded places available, so I took my plate of fried meatballs and grape leaves stuffed with rice and boiled egg, and made my way out back to the garden.
The tall oaks provided such a dense canopy above, and the wall around the perimeter of the garden was so high, it was easy to forget we were in one of the busiest cities in Anjuria. Even the noise of Fairgoers passing by the street seemed like something distant. While most of the benches were occupied, I found a small table against a tree and leaned back into the trunk. Even with the buzz of dozens of drunken conversations all around, punctuated by the odd boisterous shout, it was still probably the most peaceful spot in Alespell, and should have been easy enough to block out everything that had happened in the last few days. But even after several glasses of heady wine, and the lantern light blurring and shimmering slightly, it was still a challenge to forget the present circumstances. The departed, the schemes, the suspicious and brutal baron, the haunting with slim chance of reprieve, the Hornman I rescued who might just doom us all.
I got up to find a beer maid, laughing drunkenly to myself when I thought they were never referred to as wine maids. I was reluctant to lose my spot, but finding more wine was an absolute necessity, so I started winding my way around benches and pockets of people toward the doorway to the interior.
As I got closer, stumbling over my inebriated feet, I saw Mulldoos walking through the crowd toward the stairwell. He hadn’t seen me yet, so I considered turning right back around and disappearing. But the figure immediately behind him stopped me short.
He was leading a small girl through the inn, and her hands were tied together. She had hair so fair it was nearly white, but in complete disarray,
and her face and arms were covered with bruises and more ominous welts. She had a cracked lip, and was wearing a tunic that had several bloodspots on the chest. Her shoes—or what passed for shoes, at least—were torn and tattered, and one seemed tied together with twine.
In short, she was a complete mess. But that didn’t stand out so much as her demeanor. Where most beaten children would have kept their heads fixed on their feet, or worked hard not to make eye contact with the dozens of strangers in the room, this bruised, bloodied, and bound girl held her chin up, and gave anyone glancing her way a challenging look back, as if daring them to say something or lay a hand on her.
My chance to disappear was gone—Mulldoos saw me. The crowd parted around the strange pair, largely due to his usual liberal use of elbows and angry glares, but also as people stepped aside to get a better look at the strange prisoner.
Mulldoos jerked a thumb toward the stairs as he got close to me, and I followed them up. The lieutenant called out and knocked on the door, and a moment later Vendurro unlocked it and opened it. Mulldoos pushed his tiny charge through first, and while I couldn’t see Vendurro’s expression, I heard him exclaim, “Plague me! Where’d you get this drowned cat?”
Again, instead of being cowed, the girl looked in his direction and hissed.
“And feral on top of it,” he added.
Mulldoos looked at Vendurro as he entered and showed his arms, which were covered in scratches and what looked to be teeth marks. “Vicious little hellcat, more like.”
The girl started turning to face him but he grabbed her firmly by the back of the neck. “Face forward, hellcat.”
“Lay off!” she yelled, struggling as best as a small girl with her hands tied could against a massively muscled soldier who wasn’t pretending to be gentle.
He turned to Vendurro. “Best fetch Cap.”
Vendurro knocked on the captain’s door. When Braylar didn’t respond right away, he knocked again and called out, “Mulldoos come back, Cap. Got hisself a prisoner. Maybe half a prisoner, truly. Guessing you’ll want to see her though.” He turned around and looked at the group, then whistled, long and low. “Guessing you’ll hold for Cap, but this story ought to be ten kinds of entertaining.”
Mulldoos smiled, which was almost disturbing. “Oh, you’ll hear it soon enough.” He looked at Braylar’s room and then back to Vendurro. “He doing alright?”
Vendurro didn’t answer right away, glanced at me, then at t
he tiny battered prisoner as if gauging how much he could say. “Been better, I’m thinking. But to hear Lieutenant Hew tell it, or Arki here, been worse, too. So holding steady. For what that’s worth.”
“You seen Hew? Where’s he at?”
“Cap said he might have gotten good word about the whereabouts of…” Vendurro looked at the small girl and added, “That fella we been after. So off to check on that. Be back short like.”
Braylar stepped out of his room, eyes still bloodshot, but otherwise looking no worse than before. Still, as Vendurro said, that wasn’t anything to feel tremendously good about. It was difficult to tell which ailed him more—the ale or the demons he was trying to drown.
He looked ready to issue a biting remark of some kind when he stopped himself, noticing the small and scruffy newcomer in the room. Then he looked at Mulldoos. “Well. This is the rogue witch, is she?”
Before Mulldoos could answer, the girl said, “No witch at all. Told them that, told this bastard that, and now I’m—”
Mulldoos cuffed her behind the ear. “Being right disrespectful. This is a captain you’re speaking to.”
She shook her head and said, “Could be the king hisself and I’d tell him the same plaguing thing. Whatever they said I done, they lied. Bunch of lying shits, the lot of them, and I hope when the plague comes through again it hits Ash Walk first.”
Braylar grinned. “And here I thought Lloi was the most irreverent dream thief we’d ever run across.” He looked her bruises over and said, “It’s good to see that you were careful, selective, and discrete.”
Mulldoos shrugged his shoulders. “Most of that was on her already. And as I recollect, seemed our situation called more for results than tip-toeing around. It’s nothing but dumb chance I managed to turn this hellcat up at all. Villagers were fixing to kill her dead when I rode up. You want me to send her hissing back into the wild, though, you just say the word. And you want her drowned in the river, that works as well too.”
She stomped back, trying to strike his shin or foot, but mostly hit floor. He grabbed her by the neck. “Settle down there, you little bitch.” Which only made her thrash more until he gave her a firm shake.
Braylar said, “Oh, she’ll stay a bit longer. At least until I’ve determined her use. Or lack thereof, more likely.”
Which set the girl to kicking and squirming again. “You put your cock anywhere near me, I’ll bite it off and spit in in your face, I will. Just see if I don’t.”
Mulldoos cuffed her behind her other ear and Braylar replied, “Oh, I have no doubt about that. But do settle down. I prefer my concubines quite a bit older, recently bathed, and decidedly less hostile.”
She glared at him but stopped struggling. For the moment.
Braylar walked to the table and took a seat. At least he hadn’t stumbled or wobbled overmuch. He folded his hands on the table, still staring at the angry young thing in front of him. “I know you’re simply bursting to tell me the details, Lieutenant. So please. Share how you came to find this vicious, little, scruffy creature that you somehow believe might be allowed anywhere near me if I was prone and helpless. This story, I would love to hear.”
Mulldoos smiled again, the kind a cat might have with the mouse’s tail poking out of the corner of his mouth. “Me and the boys, we hit every inn and tavern in the city, hoping to hear word of a witch out there, expecting not to. Thirsty work, that is. But Alespell is big, with more villages and communities around than most. Heard tell of two sightings, one in Tenvale, the other in Ash Walk. Most rogues get found out, they get done for pretty plaguing fast, so we rode out in a hurry. Would have split up, but Tenvale wasn’t far off the path to Ash Walk, so we just hit there first.”
“But clearly that did not pan out.”
“No, they stoned their witch. Been dead a couple of days already, nailed to a tree. So we kept riding a half day for Ash Walk, figuring to find a similar outcome. But Ash Walkers, they must not get much in the way of excitement, decided to have themselves a trial. Would have ended the same way, for sure, but it delayed killing the girl long enough for us to ride into the square.”
Braylar leaned forward. “Please tell me you paid for your prisoner and didn’t kill everyone in Ash Walk.”
“Nope. That is, yep, no killing, just passed some coin across. Seemed the village elders weren’t too keen on losing their chance for a little fun. Stoning, drowning, burning, whatever else they had in store for the lady here.” The girl turned and scowled at him, but held her tongue, and Mull-doos continued, “Asked a pretty coin for the release, so not charging by the pound. I thought about cleaving one of those bastards, to help the bargaining speed up a bit. But I paid up. No blood.”
Braylar looked closely at the girl. “And you think she possesses the requisite… skills?”
Mulldoos shook his head. “No plaguing idea. But the villagers seemed right certain she was thieving dreams.”
“Liars!” she spat.
Mulldoos looked ready to smack her again but didn’t. “True or false, they claimed she had a way of creeping into people’s skulls, especially when they were sleeping. Knew things she ought not to. So she’s got as good a chance as any of having some rogue blood in her. Which is to say, probably none. Villagers are superstitious whoresons who don’t know their asses from their faces. Still, she was the only one in the area. Me, I say we send for a proper Memoridon, and fuck the consequences. Bound to be one close. Guessing the Empire’s got one hounding us.”
Braylar didn’t respond with the venom I expected, especially given how he had dressed Mulldoos down only a few days ago. “No, Lieutenant. This is what we have to work with. Such as it is.” He stared at her. “So, girl, you deny being a dream thief, do you?”
She pushed some greasy hair out of her face. “Answered you already.”
Braylar rapped on the table. “You aren’t dim, lass. That much is certain. Which is good. I have absolutely no use for dimness. But impertinence will get you nowhere good here either. My man there might not be the most delicate solider alive, but he did rescue you from a decidedly bad fate. You would do well to cooperate now, lest you find yourself in equally dire straits tonight. What’s your name, girl?”
She tucked another strand behind her ear, and I thought she was close to feeling the back of the lieutenant’s hand again, when she said, quietly. “Junjee. Junjee Millstone.”
“Very good, Junjee. So. Your fellow Ashians, friends and family all, were ready to string you up, accusing you of sifting through dreams, and taking what you wanted. Yet you maintain you were completely innocent, yes? But let me put it to you one more time: can you do these things? I ask, not wanting to kill you for it, or punish you at all, but to preserve you, to save you, so that you can assist me. So answer, lass, and speak true.”
Junjee tilted that proud little chin up, looked him directly in the eye with the poise of a woman two or three times her age, and said, “I got no other answer for you but the one I gave already. Gave it and gave it and gave it. Got nothing left to say. So do what you do. Only know if you violate me, I’ll—”
“Bite my cock off. Yes. I do believe we’ve covered that.” Braylar glanced down, and the direction told me he was looking at Bloodsounder somewhere under the table. “You see, it so happens that I have dire need of someone with the skills you deny having. While it is true most of the known world would string you up for admitting to them, I am a Syldoon. I don’t know if you know much about Syldoon—”
“My ma always said you were murdering dogs.”
“Well, your mother wasn’t entirely wrong. But she also didn’t protect you behind her skirts when they came to string you up, did she?” He waited for her to answer, but she only maintained the haughty tilt of her chin. “Knowing a little of the Syldoon, then, you might also be aware that we make use of women who demonstrate this forbidden aptitude. So, now without family or friends, a penniless stranger in a huge city that will devour you at the slightest chance, I give you fi
nal opportunity to reconsider. I could offer you not only life, but a livelihood. You would be rewarded, highly regarded. So if it is fear that stops your tongue, girl, then—”
“My kin almost killed me yesterday. I got plenty to be afraid of. Terrified. Of everything. Got nothing now, just like you done said. So if I had what you asked for, or could fake it enough to fool you, I would. I’d give it. But they were going to string me up based on rumor and untruth. I can’t see dreams. And red as blood, I can’t steal none. Never stole nothing in my whole life.”
Braylar watched her face intently as she spoke, weighed her words for the truth or falsehood. Then he exhaled long and slow out his nose and nodded before getting to his feet and stepping back from the table. I had the terrible feeling he was going to have Mulldoos take her out and kill her in the alley or drop her in the canal. Only Mulldoos wouldn’t object like Dargus did.
Instead, Captain Killcoin said, “Very well, Junjee. Cut her free, Lieutenant. Give her some small coin and set her loose.”
Surprise flitted across Junjee’s face, and then whatever anger had been sustaining her drained away, and the chin fell a little. Mulldoos drew the long-bladed suroka, worked it between the ropes, cut through them. She continued looking at the captain the entire time. “Got nowhere… just letting me free?”
Braylar gave her a cold look. “Would you rather he cut your wrists instead of the rope?”
“No. Course not. It’s just—” She sniffled, then started to reach up to wipe her nose before Mulldoos snatched her hands and pulled them back down so he could finish the rope. “I thought… I figured I was your prisoner. Where do I go?”
Braylar replied, “That is entirely up to you. I would not recommend Ash Walk. You will have enough money to buy some clothes, and a few hot meals. After that…”
“You’re an army, ain’t you? Heard armies need pot scrubbers, needle pushers, and the like. I’m handy, I could—”
Veil of the Deserters Page 5