“It should be you,” Mediera argued. “Not him.”
I didn’t say it, but I couldn’t help but think that Cedric had no head for the intricacy of war, and he did not have the guile to win a lordship through deceit. He was too much the white knight for that sort of thing, even though he did not hold the title. Gorman was an even less likely candidate for the position, as he had no family connections. His only credential was his position as the captain of the city guard, a position he no longer held. I wondered if the men of the guard still loved him. Gorman’s charisma was undeniable.
“Mediera…”
“I wrote to Thomas asking him to request that if an acting Lord must be named that it be you.”
Cedric bit his lip. “You didn’t tell me.”
“It should be you,” she insisted.
“I have no support.”
“You have my support.”
“That won’t be enough. It’s more likely that the lords’ council will choose Carenhail.”
“Will Gorman back him?” I asked. I wanted Gorman to lead. He was my choice. He had a stable head, was charismatic, and beloved by his men, and I believed he would do his best to keep Mediera and Cedric involved. I didn’t care for his connection with the fat man, but I couldn’t see another option.
Cedric shrugged. “I’m not sure what Gorman will do.”
“He doesn’t matter anymore, Ani. He is of no use to us anymore,” Mediera interjected.
“That may be so, but still I’d like to speak to him myself. I believe he’s important, no matter his rank. The lords’ council is far away while the city guard is here.”
CHAPTER 6
WHEN I TRIED to leave the Great House, the guards told me I didn’t have permission to vacate. I seethed for it was ridiculous of them to think that they had any control over me. I knew how to navigate the Great House unseen, a skill bestowed upon me during my days as a scullery maid so many years ago. The servants here seemed to be used to me navigating their walkways, and no longer gave me strange looks. Still, I waited some days before secreting myself out through the servants’ passages, and I made sure I moved well after dusk to improve my chances of not being observed.
Gorman likely had a bunk in one of the guards’ towers. However, I had no notion of how to locate him there. My best chance was Dorin’s Cup, oft frequented by soldiers and skins. When I entered the darkened tavern, all eyes seemed to flit in my direction. Few women were present, but I should not have been drawing so much attention.
As I looked at each man who glanced in my direction, I hoped he would be Azriel. A futile effort, for I knew I would not find him. Azriel should be west of the mountains by now, or at least en route. Still, I wanted to see him for I felt empty by myself. It was all too much–too hard.
I caught a flash of familiar gold curls from the back of the room. Not Azriel. Fynn. Of course he would be here, enjoying the evening’s camaraderie, unconcerned by the machinations in the Great House. While I pushed my way toward him, he conversed with a swarthy looking fellow. Since I wanted to be back before my absence was noticed, I decided it would be unwise to wait until Fynn’s conversation came to a natural end. I touched his arm gently. He flinched at the touch but smiled when he saw it was me.
“Ani. I was wondering when you would find me. Although, this is an inopportune time.”
“I don’t wish to trouble you. I’m looking for Gorman.”
“I see. Look for him in the back room. He’ll want to talk with you, I’m sure. I’ll join you when I can.”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod.
“You probably should have changed,” he whispered in my ear before I left him. “Not many sisters of mercy frequent taverns.”
Grimacing, I remembered that I was still wearing the black dress. Although I was not wearing my headpiece, I was still recognized as a sister. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation. I would just have to tolerate being too visible.
The backroom was not as crowded as the front section, allowing me to easily notice Gorman as he sat in a booth with another man. Appearing comfortable in the soft leather chairs, they each held mugs of ale in their hands.
As I approached the table, Gorman’s companion smiled. “It seems you have a visitor.”
“Would you give us a few moments?” Gorman asked his friend.
The man shrugged. “I’ll give you all night. Remember what I said, though. The men are with you if you change your mind.”
Gorman didn’t quite smile as his companion shifted away back to the front room.
“What did he mean by that?” I asked.
Gorman sighed. “Fynn said you went back to the Great House. I take it you know about my demotion.”
After taking the empty seat, I nodded and touched his arm. “Cedric told me. I am sorry for it. There has to be something you can do.”
A woman in a thin gray dress approached our table, interrupting us.
“Would you like a drink, sister?” she asked. She touched the shoulder of my dress, pinching the material in her fingers.
I flinched, not expecting the intrusion.
“Are you really a sister? We were wondering if the dress was a costume. But it feels real to me.”
“Yes, I am a sister and I would appreciate a cider if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience.”
“As you wish,” she said with a curtsy.
After she was out of earshot, I turned back to Gorman.
“Perhaps you should have worn a different outfit,” he said.
“Apparently.”
“Fynn told me that you were able to bury the furies. He made it sound like quite an impressive feat.”
Slowly I nodded. “I couldn’t control it, though. The magic ran through me and took over.”
“But it worked. At least it gives us a real weapon. Next time…”
“Gorman, there shouldn’t be a next time. While I was in that tree, I came too close to killing Fynn and myself.”
“Well, perhaps it won’t come to that, but it’s better than having no magic at all.”
I frowned. Although Gorman had a head for strategy, I did not want him to depend on my erratic abilities as he made his plans.
“They should not have taken away your position, Gorman. I don’t like Carenhail. You ought to lead the war effort. Not him.”
Gorman sighed. “The fat man thinks it’s best to let him take the reins. It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“But Carenhail hates the skins. He sent us to our deaths while we were in the field, and for nothing. There was naught to gain from ordering us deep into the territory of the furies. He did it only out of spite. Why would the fat man support him?”
“The fat man wants to win and doesn’t care how it happens.” Gorman ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. “Look, I’m not starting a revolution, Anais. We are barely holding the city. This is the way things are going to be.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You should come with me and see the southern gate. We have crossbowmen lining the walls, and they’ve been busy.”
“Since when? Why didn’t I know?”
“It only started yesterday.”
A tankard of ale descended onto the table with a thud and a splash, and Fynn slipped into a seat next to me. “Are you upsetting poor Anais with unpleasant talk?”
“I’m telling her the truth.”
“Personally, I would prefer not to know the truth. That’s why I’m drinking. To forget.”
The girl in the gray dress returned to the table. While she set a mug of cider in front of me, she smiled widely at Fynn. He squeezed her arm and winked at her in return.
I rolled my eyes at the blatant innuendo and wondered if we would be subjected to their flirting all night. She didn’t linger, though. Perhaps she had other customers in sore need of her attention.
“Were you successful, Fynn?” Gorman asked.
“I thought you didn’t care? I thought you h
ad come to terms with our fate.”
Gorman shrugged. “I am at peace with it. But, I’m still curious.”
Fynn grimaced. “Horace wouldn’t help me. Either he doesn’t have a drug that will knock me into oblivion for a few weeks or the fat man read my intentions and ordered him not to help me. I can’t tell.”
“Why would you want a drug to make you unconscious?” I asked. “That type of thing is dangerous.”
Fynn looked at Gorman. “You haven’t told her yet. Have you?”
“I’m getting there.” Gorman sighed. “The fat man is going to order the skins to leave the city walls to fight directly with the furies. Apparently these were Carenhail’s terms, and the fat man conceded.”
“Why?” I gasped. “It’s impossible to beat back a hoard of furies.”
“The furies are attacking the walls in two and threes right now. Mostly at night, so the city hasn’t panicked. Not completely anyway. Carenhail wants to draw them all in and take them down in one fell swoop. He’s going to use the cannons and release burning oil from the parapets once enough gather at the walls, and we’re the bait. A major victory will go a long way in securing his future,” Fynn explained.
“He’s willing to slaughter the skins, too.”
“Apparently. So you can understand why I might want to find a way out. I didn’t sign up for this, Ani. I’m just an artist. I don’t intend to die this way.”
No longer content to sit idly, I stood from the table. “Gorman, please. You can’t let this happen. It’s pointless. There is no end to the furies. All you will accomplish is throwing away your life.” Remembering the countless camps in the south spread out impossibly far into an infinite distance, I felt a wave of despair strike through me.
“The fat man is behind Carrenhail. Although this plan may seem cruel, we have to accept it. This is his choice. We have to follow.”
“That man sitting with you–he said the men were with you. Can’t you use them to defeat Carenhail? If Carenhail is gone, you could make the decisions, like before. You wouldn’t send the skins out of the city. Perhaps you could just increase the number of crossbowmen…”
“It won’t work,” Gorman said, his voice flat. “I’m sorry.”
Fynn stood up next to me and gripped my arm. “I’m scared,” he murmured.
Wiping the tears gathering in the corner of my eyes, I turned to Fynn. “I can save you,” I whispered into his ear.
“All hail to us renegades,” he whispered back.
A voluminous figure approached our table, an angry expression on his face. “Are you all right girl?” my uncle Gil asked, apparently concerned at finding me at such an unsavory establishment in the company of two apparent scoundrels.
Fynn let go of my arm and stared at Gil, who had appeared in such an unexpected fashion.
“I’m fine. It’s okay,” I said quickly.
“Humph. It looks like you were attempting to leave and these men were keeping you here against your will.” Gil glared at Fynn and Gorman. “You shouldn’t be trying to corrupt the lass. She’s a sister of mercy, as you can plainly see.”
Suppressing a giggle at the notion that Fynn or Gorman could pose a threat to me, I bit my lower lip.
“You’ve upset the poor girl. Can’t you see that?” Gil roared the question.
Fynn jumped on the defensive. “How is the girl any of your concern?”
“It’s my concern because the girl in question is my niece. I’m the only family she has here.” He pushed Fynn, who fell into his seat. Surprise lit Fynn’s face suggesting that he didn’t expect Gil would dare touch him. Fynn propelled himself back up and raised his arms in a defensive stance. Gil, who wobbled on his feet, exposed himself as less than a credible threat. Gorman hadn’t moved or said a word during the entire affair.
Although I hadn’t realized it at first glance, I could not see that Gil was drunk, and I suddenly feared he might start a real brawl, trying to defend my honor. And I certainly didn’t want that.
Several men entered the room, and one moved to the front, an angry expression on his face. “I do not allow fighting in my establishment,” he barked.
“Please, gentlemen. I think it would be best if my uncle escorted me out of the tavern.” I smiled at the proprietor. “My apologies if we caused a disruption. We’ll be leaving.”
The proprietor sniffed. “I suppose it’s all right if you leave now. This back room stays quiet. There’s no fighting or loud noises back here. Those are the rules.”
“Gil, we should go now.” I moved to his side and took his arm in mine. Grateful when Gil relaxed, I pulled him away from the table and led him through the throng of men, out of the doors of Dorin’s Cup. All eyes were on us as we moved.
A breeze of fresh air hit us as we left the tavern, and I breathed deeply, appreciating the air’s purity. Lighting our way, the moon shone full in the night sky. The night seemed bright and clean compared to the dim shadows and smoke within the tavern.
As we walked, Gil took wobbly steps on the cobbled stone. I moved closer to him and let him lean on me. Although I couldn’t bear much of his weight, I thought I might be able to prevent him from taking a tumble if it came to it.
“I’ll escort you back to the Great House,” he offered, his words slurred. “I would hate for you to be accosted again.”
I hid a grin at the idea of Fynn or Gorman causing me harm–such a ridiculous notion. “It’s too late, uncle. Perhaps you would offer me shelter for the night.”
“Mm. That’s a right good idea. Do you remember my shop?”
“I do. We’re going in that direction.”
“Good, good. I have a cot you may sleep on. And then tomorrow, I’ll bring you bring you to the Great House. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Simon’s ship in port. He wants me to go with him to the new world. He’s been pressing harder than usual this time. The port is still open, but it’s going to be closing soon. Well, that’s the gossip anyway.”
“Will you go with him?”
“I’m considering it. It’s getting bad here. While the roads and the ports are closed, I can’t do business. My inventory is mostly gone. With no hope of replenishing my supplies, I can’t make any money. I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be driven from not one but two cities.”
“You should go,” I said. “Simon’s right. Things are going to get worse here.”
“You should come, too. Simon would be so happy if he could save you.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied. This was my war. Gorman was right about one thing. My magic was a weapon. I needed to find a way to help the skins if the fat man ordered them out of the city. The skins were my brothers, and I couldn’t just let the furies massacre them. But, maybe I could use this opportunity to save someone else–someone more important than me.
CHAPTER 7
BLINKING SLEEP OUT of my eyes, I woke to the sound of shuffling feet and the clanking of a closing door. As I pulled myself into a sitting position on the little cot, I looked at the bed.
“You returned late last night,” Mediera commented. “I didn’t think you would be gone so long.” She was reclining on plush pillows, a silver tray holding two slices of bread and a poached egg rested in her lap, having been just delivered by one of the servants. If she had requested something sweet, I would have stolen a bite. But eggs and toast weren’t enough of a temptation to pry me off my cot.
“I spent the day yesterday with my uncle in town,” I replied with a yawn, stretching my arms in the air. How could I be so stiff? Perhaps helping Gil pack crates took more of a toll on my body than I had expected. He had decided that he indeed would travel with Simon and had wanted to take what little inventory remained in the shop with him.
“Should I even ask how you managed to get in and out of the Great House without being seen? I thought Carrenhail had ordered the guards to make sure you didn’t leave. He certainly has put more effort into defending me than Colin ever h
ad. I can’t leave my room without an escort. It’s embarrassing.”
“The servants’ passages can get you in and out unobserved for the most part. Although it’s best to use them at night,” I answered with a shrug.
Mediera shook her head. “I forget sometimes that you were once a scull. How strange that you would even consider using those dreary walkways.”
“You’ve stooped to exploring secret passageways in your day.”
For a moment she looked like the girl I used to know as she grinned impishly. Too often these days she was so overwhelmed by responsibility that she barely resembled herself. “Mm. Secret passageways are at least exciting.”
Uthur stirred and cried out. Mediera sighed and placed her fork back down on the tray.
“Don’t get up,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “Let me tend to him.” I walked over to the bassinet, scooped Uthur into my arms, and held him close to my chest. His hot wet tears traced my skin. While I petted his head, he stopped crying and mewed softly.
“He probably needs to be changed,” Mediera murmured. “I could ring for the wet nurse.” Mediera still wasn’t calling the girl by her name. Dahlia, I reminded myself. Even though I occasionally shared a room with her, we had had few real conversations. I felt sorry for the girl, who often seemed sad.
“There’s no need. I can do it,” I offered. “She’s probably sleeping. It’s quite early.” There was no light shining through the curtains. It was likely barely morning.
After I brought Uthur over to the table in the corner of the room, I unwrapped the square of knitted fabric that had bound him. His arms and legs flailed as soon as they were let loose, as if he were desperate to interact with the world. I unpinned the smaller square of cotton that had been wrapped around his bottom. It was soaked with urine, so I disposed of it in the bin on the floor. I pulled a clean cloth from a drawer beneath the table’s surface, wetted it with water from a jug on the floor and patted him, and then dried him quickly. Then I pulled another clean cloth from the drawer and placed it under his bottom. As I touched my hand to his chest, I smiled at him. He smiled a toothless grin back at me.
Anais and the Broken War (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 5) Page 5