Blood Of Gods (Book 3)

by David Dalglish

  Romeo glowered while Cleo grinned. Neither acknowledged that their mother had spoken. The older woman frowned, the lines in her face deepening. A long pause followed, until finally Romeo said, “We came here to meet, so we should meet. There is much we have to discuss.”

  “Yes, yes, that we should do,” said Cleo.

  “Will you accept the people of Riverrun into your city?” asked Romeo. The question clearly pained him when it left his lips, and he seemed to realize this, adding, “You certainly have the room to spare,” in his offhand, insulting way.

  “We do, and we will,” Catherine told him. She turned to her sellsword captain. “Bren, have your men escort the train to Rat Harbor. And make sure the contents of the carriages are counted and marked. I wish to know the extent our new bounty by the morrow.”

  “Okay, boss,” said Bren.

  “Rat Harbor?” said Romeo, aghast. “You’re settling our people in the slum?”

  “It’s the best I can offer right now,” Catherine purred. “You said you would only be here for a short while to discuss your rights to Matthew’s land holdings. Rat Harbor has been abandoned; it is the easiest place to set up temporary residences for your lot.”

  Romeo opened his mouth, but it was Cleo who spoke. “It is understood, milady. Truly it is.” Cleo gently touched both Catherine’s arm and his brother’s shoulder. Romeo glared at her while he straightened out the wrinkled top of his frock. He then spun around and faced his mother.

  “Mother, don’t just stand there like a simpleton! Go back to the commoners. Our wives and children require counseling.”

  The white-haired lady pivoted on her heel and gracefully loped away. Catherine gestured for a group of ten sellswords to follow her, which they did. She then stared rays of hatred into the back of Romeo Connington’s head.

  This one hates women so much that even his own mother doesn’t rate.

  With preparations underway to accept their people into the city, the brothers Connington considered Catherine once again. “My sweet Lady Brennan,” said Cleo, “shall we conduct our business here, or will you escort us to more . . . comfortable accommodations?”

  Offering her best charming smile, Catherine extended her hand to the carriage that awaited them a few hundred feet down the road, a pair of sellswords lingering outside it. “We will speak at the estate. Now please, do your host the honor of waiting for me in the cart. I will join you shortly.”

  The brothers bobbed their heads and began to waddle toward the waiting carriage. She could hear Cleo’s excitable tone in his remark about some benign nonsense as they walked, though Romeo remained deathly quiet. This will certainly be interesting.

  Bren sidled up beside her. “Boss, you sure about this?”

  “I’m not one prone to fits of doubt,” she said. “Were the girls given their tools?”

  “They were.”

  “Excellent. And whom did you assign to protect me? I cannot see from here.”

  “Tod and Rumey. The quiet and sinister ones.”

  “Good.” She tugged on Bren’s sleeve. “Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?”

  “If you say so, boss.”

  “Oh, and Bren? One more thing.”

  “What, boss?”

  “Remember that you’re in a city that loves me. Remember what the women of Port Lancaster are capable of when confronted with those who would turn against those they love.”

  Bren nodded and walked off to help the rest of his sellswords escort a hundred carriages and over a thousand people through the gates. Catherine made her way to the covered wagon. It didn’t escape her that Port Lancaster had barely sixty horses within its walls, and now that number would be more than tripled. In no time at all, the streets would reek with horse dung.

  The carriage was covered and ample, yet with five people inside, including the portly brothers, seating was still cramped. Cleo and Romeo sat on one bench while Catherine took her place between the two blank-faced sellswords opposite them. She struck the carriage ceiling with an open palm and heard the female driver say “Hyah!” The carriage began lumbering forward to the sound of clomping hooves, clinking chains, and crunching gravel.

  Catherine stared at the brothers, and they at her. No one said a word for a long while. They were like gamblers playing a game of switchback, waiting for the first player to give away his hand. Catherine remained stoic and unmoved. She would not be the one to flinch.

  Romeo blinked, his eyes darting to the two sellswords sitting on either side of Catherine. He raised a plump hand and pointed at both of them. “Why do you still have your mercenaries?”

  Catherine shrugged. “I keep them paid and fed.”

  Tod and Rumey nodded but kept quiet.

  “I think what my dear brother is trying to ask,” said Cleo, “is how they are still with you. I don’t know if Matthew ever showed you the note we sent him, but all our hired swords and Sisters were conscripted by the acolytes and Karak’s soldiers.”

  Of course she knew about the note. She’d been the one to intercept it before Matthew could read it.

  “I know. I read it. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Then you know we even lost the captain of our guard, our Crimson Sword. Yet Bren is still here, and a hundred hired men.”

  “Eighty-one to be exact,” she said, adopting Romeo’s offensive tone from earlier.

  Romeo grunted. “So, how are they still here? I assumed the acolytes would demand all you had to give.”

  “They tried. We killed them before they could take any.”

  The brothers Connington took a long moment to overcome their dumbfounded shock.

  “You what?” asked Cleo.

  “We killed them, my dear visitors. All of them. Acolytes and soldiers. Every man who stepped foot into our city demanding we give them our resources for nothing.”

  “But how . . . ?” began Romeo.

  “Matthew’s sellswords are resourceful,” said Catherine with a wink. On either side of her, Tod and Rumey grinned.

  Cleo lurched forward and clamped his hand on Romeo’s knee, making the older brother yelp.

  “Brilliant! I never thought Matthew capable of such treachery! Perhaps we were wrong about him. Why did we not think of doing so, Brother? We had twice the mercenaries our dear Matthew had, not to mention over a hundred Sisters trained with sword and dagger. Think of the possibilities!”

  Romeo shot him a look, and Cleo retracted his hand, nodding knowingly. Catherine made note of that quiet exchange, though she did not now what to make of it. Then Cleo’s face brightened, and he leaned forward once more.

  “But Matthew’s treachery was certainly not without cost,” he said, almost singing the words. “We’d heard your husband died, but how was always a bit of a mystery. Am I correct to assume now that it happened during the battle?”

  She put on her best sorrowful face and nodded.

  “And what of Moira?” he asked. “It’s surprising she is not guarding you.”

  “Moira left. I sent her away.”

  The fat man clapped his hands and kicked his feet. “Oh, how wonderfully incongruous! Dear brother, this trip gets better and better!”

  In response, Romeo chuckled without mirth.

  The carriage stopped ten minutes later, and the driver opened the door. Catherine stretched her legs, which were cramped from keeping them pulled up tight to her bench to avoid rubbing Cleo Connington’s knees, and then exited the carriage. Her two sellsword protectors and the brothers Connington followed her up the steps to her estate.

  She led them through the foyer, down the hall, and up the staircase, heading for the solarium on the estate’s fourth floor. She heard soft murmurs when she passed the third story, and imagined her children sitting with their nursemaid Brita while the old woman taught them their lessons. She pictured little Ryan, staring out intently from beneath the tangled curls atop his head, absorbing Brita’s every word in silence. He was much like his father—his true father—in th
at way. Always listening, always learning, silent until he needn’t be any longer. I will be with you soon, my son. After my work here is done.

  By the time they reached the door to the solarium, Cleo and Romeo were bent over at the waist, panting and clutching their crimson frocks. Catherine hid a smirk and opened the door for them. They entered in a wobbling fashion. The sellswords Tod and Rumey went to enter as well, but Catherine stopped them.

  “Please wait outside,” she told them. “I’ll handle things from here.”

  The two men nodded and took their places on either side of the doorway. Bren was right to assign these two to her. They were indeed quiet and sinister, but more important, they didn’t question orders, which was exactly what Catherine needed at present.

  She shut the door and turned around. The Brennan estate’s solarium was a huge room that spanned the full fifty-foot width and forty-foot length of the structure below. Its walls were lined with display cases and ornate stands holding some of the more exotic sea life Matthew’s father and grandfather had discovered on their early ventures out on the open ocean. The merchant’s desk—my desk now—stood to the right, fronted by a heavy round rug colored teal and yellow. The rug was a new edition, for the bloodstains left by Matthew’s executed whores wouldn’t come out of the old one. As for those who’d been tasked with scrubbing those stains, they were present now: her maids Ursula, Lori, and Penetta were in the room, tending to the brothers’ needs, while two other young women in simple, white household garb sat in the chairs in Matthew’s old lounge area, playing lutes. The soft tinkle of music filled the air.

  The Conningtons stood in front of the two musicians, warming their hands at the fireplace that took up one-third of the solarium. Each held a cup of spiced brandy provided by Penetta. They whispered back and forth to one another, and Cleo in particular kept glancing up at the bare stretch of wall just above the hearth. They were clearly stalling. Catherine walked up to them and cleared her throat.

  “Would you rather talk business or stare at a blank wall?”

  “Oh, my sour and candid Catherine, we will talk trade soon enough,” said Cleo. “My brother and I were simply remembering the monstrosity that once hung there.”

  “The sword Lancaster Brennan had forged as gift for Karak,” Catherine stated.

  “Yes, that,” Romeo said. “So impressive, despite its impracticality.”

  “The sword reached the giant,” Cleo said in his singsong way. “Our . . . associate . . . is right now following Gorgoros and his people as they march through the desert. The deed will be done soon.”

  They are uninformed. If what Ki-Nan wrote is true, the battle is already over, and he is with the giant heading north. You best stay safe, my love. You best return to me.

  “That is good,” said Catherine. “Now, this business about the land up north—”

  “Can wait,” Romeo said. “Right now, we are famished. The brandy is only sparking my appetite. Will you offer your guests some sustenance?”

  “Of course,” Catherine said with a curtsey.

  Her maids left the solarium, returning a few minutes later with plates of peppered goat, cornmeal biscuits, and bowls of venison and barley stew. The brothers sat down in front of the fireplace, throwing casual conversation Catherine’s way as they picked at their food. She watched them with interest, politely answering each of their meaningless questions. The conversation was benign, and Catherine was growing impatient. It was hard to keep her frustration in check.

  Finally, after the brothers had scarfed down the pork pastries Penetta offered them, Catherine stood from her chair. “You came here for business. Now that you’ve eaten, are you ready to talk?”

  “Yes, we’re ready,” said Romeo. Cleo sniggered.

  They made their way to the other side of the room. Catherine circled around the desk and sat down while Lori and Ursula brought over two chairs for the brothers. The Conningtons sat down without giving thanks. Romeo acted as if her maids weren’t there, treating them much like he had his mother. Cleo leered at them, something in the sparkle behind his eyes making Catherine grip the edge of the desk tightly, feeling the handle of the dagger strapped beneath it.

  “Now about the lands and the fjord,” she said. “Matthew’s father purchased both from your grandfather years ago. It has been in his family ever since. The trees are valuable, the river crossing and docks even more so. If you wish to take possession of them, the price will be steep.”

  “Still so frank!” exclaimed Cleo. He then frowned playfully. “However, that bit of business can wait for later. We have much more important things to discuss.”

  Catherine’s lips twisted into a grimace.

  “Such as?”

  Romeo smiled at her show of discomfort.

  “Such as the state of your holdings here in Port Lancaster,” he said. “We have come to relinquish that burden from your shoulders.”

  Catherine sat back in her chair and stared at the brothers, silent.

  “We wish to help you, dear Catherine,” said Cleo. “We will take the reins of Matthew’s shipping empire and allow you to fulfill your womanly duties to your children. It must be difficult, worrying your pretty little head over all Matthew once controlled.”

  “It can be,” she said, inwardly seething.

  Romeo nodded. “We assumed so. We have an offer for you. We will take control of House Brennan’s holdings. We will operate the shipping and go about building new ships to replace those that have been lost.”

  “We would take a fee, of course, for doing this,” added Cleo, “but the majority of Matthew’s coin would remain yours to do with as you choose. We know how difficult it must be for a housewife to manage these . . . intricate details. You will be free to love and raise your children.”

  Catherine frowned. “Which means you’ll be staying here indefinitely.”

  “That is correct,” answered Romeo. “Until your son reaches age, and we relinquish control to him.”

  “The perfect outcome for everyone!” Cleo sang.

  Shaking her head, Catherine leveled her gaze at both of them.

  “No.”

  The brothers Connington gaped at her.

  “Do you think me a fool? Do you think I was born yesterday? You’ve tried to ruin Matthew for years, and now you wish to help his widow? I think not. Ryan would never live to see his fifteenth birthday. Then, according to Neldar law, Matthew’s possessions will go to the first man to claim them. Which, since you’ll already have control, would be you.”

  “How could you . . . ” Cleo said, eyes wide and disbelieving.

  “You had your own daughter killed, Cleo. Why would my son be different? Arrogant fool. You think you can come into my city, without guards of your own, and wrest power from me?”

  To that, Romeo slammed his meaty fist on the table. “You think you’re not a fool? You think you have the upper hand in this? Ha!” He glanced toward the window, and a wicked grin stretched across his face. “By now, our mother has offered your sellswords everything they could ever desire to turn on you. Without them to protect you, what do you have?” He laughed aloud. “You will accept our offer, Catherine, or else another member of your family will suffer a mysterious death such as Matthew did!”

  “Is that so?” she asked.

  “It is,” scowled Romeo.

  “So be it.”

  Catherine stood and gestured to her maids. Romeo glowered, then tipped forward, readying to lift his fat body off his chair. He never made it to a stand. A gasp left his mouth as his eyes flitted to the side, staring at Penetta as the young maid held the sharp edge of a knife against his throat. Blood dribbled down his neck and stained the front of his frock an even deeper crimson.

  “Oh,” Cleo said weakly, and Catherine turned to see Lori behind him, the maid holding a knife to his throat similarly. The two young lute players appeared on either side, each leveling a small crossbow. The Conningtons’ eyes darted to and fro, taking in their plight. Romeo collap
sed back into his chair.

  Catherine’s smile widened, and she made a show of sitting back down in her seat, billowing her skirt in a playful manner, still careful to hide her pregnant bulge. “Such fools. You have no idea whom you’re dealing with.”

  “Obviously not,” said Cleo, a hint of humor still in his voice.

  Romeo grunted, blood trickling from his neck. “If you wish to kill us, just do it.”

  “Unlike certain others,” she said, “I don’t wish to kill those who might be my greatest allies.” She jutted her chin at her maids, and they withdrew their knives, backing away toward the fireplace. Romeo and Cleo visibly exhaled, the former bringing his hand up to staunch the flow from the small cut on his throat.

  “Who are you?” asked Cleo, the mirth finally leaving his voice, breathless shock taking its place.

  “I am the simple wife of a merchant. One who always kept her eyes and ears open. I watched Matthew’s dealings. I studied his actions, both the good and bad. I stowed away half the gold he earned without his knowledge, hiding the sums in ledgers that the priests and tax collectors from Veldaren were too lazy to scrutinize. And when Matthew’s vices finally outweighed his uses, I killed him.”

  At that, both the brothers’ jaws dropped open.

  She leaned forward, propping her elbow on the desk. “You think yourselves scheming?” Venom leaked from her every word. “You think you have conspired? You’re nothing compared to me. I know everything that has gone on in this kingdom. I know of your plots against Matthew, as pathetic as they were. I know of your murders, of your love of torture. And I know of your moles in Karak’s Army. There is no move you’ve made that I’m not privy to.”

  “But how?” asked Cleo.

  “I’m no damsel waiting for my fat heroes to come save me,” she said. “I have spies of my own roaming the world, and given my status as a lowly woman, none think of me as a threat when I seek information. I played my part so well that even my own husband, the man who shared my bed, didn’t know my plans. How could you have any idea, you who live so many miles away? How could you know that the women of my city are now armed and skilled? The sellswords were not the ones who butchered Karak’s soldiers; it was the women who’ve toiled as I have, who’ve been subservient to the males of our species for nearly a hundred years. We are no weak settlement to be trampled by whichever man wishes to conquer it. These women will protect each other. They will protect me. With their lives, if need be.”