“Ahh, yes, you look so honored. You know it’s a Reaver trait to read people and I can see how irritated you are right now, boy,” Lord Jexon said, his gaze slowly moving to High Lady Nerathane at the window. “Of course, I can guess as to why,” he finished and brushed past Truce, heading for one of the tables.
Guessing it was best to simply remain silent after such a comment, Truce smiled, the expression nearly frozen on his face. His only solace was the fact that he had told his wife to relax at home so she didn’t have to endure this as well. His attention rose as High Lord Rivasa and High Lord Morcaillo entered, apparently in deep discussion. By the expression on Rivasa’s face it was apparently a topic he enjoyed.
“Ahh, Truce, how are you, my boy?” Lord Morcaillo called as he noticed him.
“Very good, Lord Morcaillo, thank you for asking. I regret that my father himself is not here to greet you both,” Truce said, bowing his head to the two high lords.
“Have you heard the good news?” Lord Morcaillo asked with a smile.
“What news would that be, Milord?” Truce scanned his mind frantically for any recent news that might have pleased the man this much but came up blank.
“That peasant girl that has been troubling your sister so much has been arrested,” Lord Rivasa said with a smirk. His voice sounded like the crashing of boulders next to Myth’s more fluid drawl.
Truce shook his head slowly at the two men and kept the smile in place. His mind however was whirling with what Sovaesh’s reaction might be to this turn of events. The Assassin had been quite adamant on them backing off his daughter-in-law. This was hardly something he could have prevented, though. Realizing his silence was stretching too long, Truce pushed the thoughts away and shook his head slightly again. “No, I hadn’t heard that as of yet. Might I ask what she was arrested for?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.
“Impersonating a High Lady. Apparently the child has gotten it into her head that she is of Merrodin blood,” Lord Rivasa chuckled and the stocky man’s voice reminded Truce of an avalanche. When you combined the garish house colors of yellow and orange with the man’s personality, Lord Rivasa was quite possibly the most obnoxious guest his Father ever invited to dine with them.
“It’s ridiculous. Everyone knows the Darks slaughtered the Merrodin,” Lady Nerathane broke in, her high voice a grating contrast to Lord Rivasa’s deep rumble.
“I wonder where she ever got such a notion,” Truce said absently, though in truth he was actually wondering how much longer his father could possibly be. Lord Avanti had a tendency to be fashionably late to everything in order to make a grand entrance and to avoid being bored while waiting for others.
“I hear she is in league with the Fionaveir. It’s likely those brigands put her up to it,” Lord Rivasa said with a disapproving frown.
His beard rather makes him look like a pissed off walrus when he frowns, Truce noted silently and watched Lady Nerathane bobbing her head in agreement. He kept his expression schooled as he watched the Lord and Lady. Despite all of the dinners his father had held, he couldn’t remember a single other time he had ever seen Lord Rivasa and Lady Nerathane in such agreement.
“I heard the same rumor. We should simply eliminate those outlaws once and for all,” Lady Nerathane chirped.
“I believe we have been trying to do that for three hundred years without much success.” All eyes turned to him at the words and Truce mentally cursed himself. He hadn’t actually intended to voice the thought. Shrugging he smiled again and motioned toward the bar. “Can I get anyone a drink?” he asked, hoping the offer of Avanti wine would soothe the feathers he had just ruffled.
“Yes, thank you, Truce,” Lord Morcaillo said with a nod and quickly began to gather the others in conversation again.
With a sigh, Truce crossed to the bar and began filling glasses with the finest vintage available. It wouldn’t do to short-change this crowd.
“You don’t care much for any of them,” Jexon said quietly.
Truce glanced up at the man who was now leaning on the bar a few feet away and shook his head slightly. “No, not at all Lord Jexon, I’m simply not much of a gossip, I’m afraid,” he lied and offered the man a glass of wine.
“Does he have anything stronger than wine back there? I think I will need to be partially drunk to make it through a dinner with Wilameir Nerathane.” A delighted high pitched giggle mingled with Rivasa’s heavy rumbling laugh echoed across the room as Jexon spoke and Truce gave a silent nod, pouring them both a tumbler of brandy. Jexon raised his glass and nodded to Truce. “To getting through this dinner,” he said raising his glass for a toast.
“And the next year,” Truce muttered taking a sip from his own glass. His gaze rose to the stairs as footsteps sounded and he let out a breath of relief as his father made his way into the room. As always, Lord Avanti was dressed far superior to his guests with brocade vest and filigreed boots. Even the buttons on his jacket were precious stones. “It’s a good thing we are rich, with the way he and my sister dress,” he mumbled, drawing an amused snort from the much more sedately attired Jexon.
“As pretty as a maid at her wedding,” Jexon muttered with disgust and flicked his gaze to Truce, taking in the dark colored suit and single ring he wore. “No man should ever be pretty. Remember that, boy, and I’ll respect you more for it,” he said quietly and pushed off the bar to greet Lord Avanti.
Truce watched him go and smirked. “Well you are in no danger of being pretty, Lord Jexon,” he mumbled quietly, taking another sip from his brandy. Jexon was intimidating. That was the best description Truce could think of. He dressed like a guard, he walked like a warrior, and he had the attitude of a bear. There was nothing pretty about him.
Gazing over the other guests, Truce shook his head slightly. He did not want to be in this room. He would have given half his fortune to simply be allowed to return home to his wife and son. There was no help for it though. His father expected him to be here and Sovaesh had given him duties as well. Lifting the glass for a final time, he finished off his brandy and lifted the tray of wine glasses before heading over to the table where they were now seated.
“Now, as far as the council goes tomorrow, I think it is obvious to everyone present in this room that the Merrodin line is dead,” Myth Morcaillo was saying as Truce approached.
“Quite, and any suggestion otherwise is simply ridiculous,” Lady Nerathane chimed in, her eyes settling on him as he approached. Truce nodded his head and smiled faintly as he carefully set a glass down in front of her and wished she would take her eyes from him. Up close they were unsettling, with their lack of white and slit pupils.
“I personally don’t see what I have to gain either way with a vote, or why I should even bother going,” Lord Jexon said drawing all attention to him.
“I personally don’t see what anyone has to gain by condemning a girl to death,” Truce said quietly.
“You believe some peasant girl who claims to be more deserves a seat on the council for telling a good lie?” his Father demanded, eyes locked on him.
“I don’t believe she is a peasant girl father. I’ve seen her up close, she is Elder Blood,” Truce said calmly as he finished passing out the wine glasses.
“Done with magic, I’m sure. The women in the city of Sanctuary have all kinds of magics cast on them to improve their looks,” Lady Nerathane sniffed indignantly, as if it were a major crime to alter ones appearance.
Truce fought down the urge to point out if she hadn’t altered herself to look human right now she would be a two hundred foot long winged lizard. “I truly don’t think she could afford something like that. I believe it’s natural,” he said quietly and took a seat further down the table.
“Ahh, but whoever is pulling her strings could. She is nothing more than a Fionaveir puppet,” Myth said, smoothly drawing the conversation back around to the outlaws once more.
Truce watched them all and tried to determine a strategy to sway his
Father and wondered if it was even going to be possible. If it was, it was going to take a lot of work to do. Leaning back in his chair, he listened to the conversation and watched the guests with interest. If he was going to be forced to sit here all night he might as well gain all of the insight he could.
Chapter 12
Sanctuary
Predawn light flickered in through the windows as the sound of the door opening drew Jala back from her thoughts. She hadn’t bothered trying to sleep, knowing it would be pointless. So she had focused herself instead on the Goswin curse. So far she had not come up with any brilliant means of breaking it.
The sound of the door opening had roused her from her thoughts. Drowsily, she watched the figure in armor cross the room toward her cell and wondered why neither Victory nor Havoc had spoken a challenge yet. When dinner had arrived the evening before, Havoc had stopped the man at the door and brought the food over himself.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to maintain a time stop in a room filled with Barllen?” Hemlock’s voice came from the shadows.
“Can’t say that I do,” Jala replied, standing slowly.
“Very draining,” Hemlock informed her as he leaned against the bars and folded his arms once more. “It’s going to be a very close trial today,” he said conversationally and looked her over. “You probably should have slept. You look a bit rough.” His gaze slowly rose again to meet her eyes and he shook his head slightly. “Bloodshot violet is not a pretty look.”
“I’m sorry you don’t approve. When I decide to impress you, I’ll try to look better,” she returned, too tired to care.
“Grumpy when we are sleepy, aren’t we?” he observed and shook his head again. “And here I went through all of this trouble just to speak with you.”
“You do seem to enjoy our conversations far more than I do,” she said with a sigh.
“I’ve come to offer you a deal. See, Cassia offered me an obscene amount of money to kill Finn in the unlikely event that he won the duel. He did win, and well Finn doesn’t have the same advantage as you of being a good person so I’ve come to offer you the chance to outbid Cassia. It’s a rare opportunity.” His tone was pleasant, almost friendly as he spoke.
Jala chuckled bitterly and shook her head slightly. “You know I can’t outbid an Avanti with gold. Why would you even bother coming here? Just to torment me?”
Raising an eyebrow, Hemlock stared at her and sighed. “While it is quite entertaining to torment you, no. Simply put, you have gold that is infinitely more valuable than anything the Avanti own, Jala,” he said quietly.
Confused, Jala shook her head slowly at him. “I have limited gold,” she objected hesitantly.
Hemlock sighed again with a bit of irritation and produced a vial from his cloak. He offered it out to her and smirked. “Does this help you understand?” he asked.
Eyeing the empty vial, Jala looked up from it slowly and met his gaze. “You want my blood?” she asked slowly.
“Along with just about everyone else,” he replied with a chuckle. “Do we have a deal, Jala? One vial of blood for your husband’s life?” he asked.
Mentally, Jala tallied all of the ways the blood could be used against her from what Neph and Sovann had taught her so far. It could be used to trace her or kill her or any number of other things. “How do I know you won’t kill him anyway, after I give you the blood?” she asked quietly.
“I will sign a binding contract stating that as long as the blood is in my possession, Finn Sovaesh is off limits,” Hemlock explained.
“Then if you give it away it’s no longer in your possession and you could kill him,” Jala countered.
Hemlock snorted in amusement and nodded. “Then we will add into the contract that I will not give, sell, or barter the blood to anyone but you,” he offered.
“Why do you want it?” she asked, her tone suspicious.
“Leverage against you, of course,” he replied calmly.
“Show me the contract,” she said, taking the vial from his hand and looking it over. There were no signs of magical wards on it anywhere that she could see. As far as she could tell, it was no more than it appeared - a simple glass vial.
Hemlock watched her examination with an amused smile and produced a rolled up paper from inside his cloak. “Read over it. I believe you will approve,” he said, handing it to her.
Tucking the vial into her sleeve she took the contract, unrolled it carefully, and read over the tightly written words. Nodding slightly, she handed it back to him. “You anticipated my objection about giving it away,” she said quietly.
“I have dealt with contracts for a while. It’s fairly easy to guess what will bring objections. So I brought two copies. This one if you were smart enough to see the issue and the other in the event that you weren’t,” he explained. “I take it we have a deal then?” he asked.
“We do,” Jala agreed pulling the vial back from her sleeve. “I’ll need a knife. Bring me the guard’s please,” she said her gaze flicking to Havoc.
“I do have one myself you know,” Hemlock said with a smirk, but moved to Havoc’s side and pulled a dagger free from his belt. Tossing it lightly in the air, he strolled back with a smile and handed it to her hilt first. “Are you afraid of where mine has been?” he asked with a smile as he watched her slice open her palm and press the vial to the welling blood.
“I’d rather not use anything of yours,” she replied curtly, eyes locked on the golden droplets as they ran down the side of the glass. This was not something she could ever tell Finn about, or any of her friends for that matter. Sovann would be as furious as Finn if he found out, and the thought of Neph’s reaction made her want to shudder. Still in the end, it came down to one thing. Would she die for Finn? The answer was, “yes,” if there was no other way to save him.
Hemlock watched her as the vial filled. He unrolled the contract slowly. Slipping a hand into his cloak once more he drew out a pen and hastily signed his name to the bottom. Waving a hand over it briefly he smiled and pulled an exact duplicate from the first. “One for each of us, though I suggest you keep that hidden. I truly don’t think Finn would approve.”
Glaring at him, Jala handed the vial over and took her copy of the contract. “I trust after this, we will have no further business?” she asked.
“I see no reason at all for further business,” Hemlock replied as he carefully sealed the vial with wax not even looking up to her face. “Good luck today,” he said with a smirk and turned to go. “The Lady Nerathane’s presence can test even the best patience,” he said as he reached the door. With a last smile in her direction, he left the room. With a sigh she stared down at her bloodied hand and Havoc’s dagger wondering how exactly she would explain either when time resumed.
“Jala have you slept at all?” Victory’s voice came from the shadowy corner.
“No, I can’t sleep,” she replied quietly and paced farther back into her cell. Placing one hand carefully over the cut she called on the healing magic and slowly relaxed as the pleasant warmth covered her skin.
What did you just do? Emily’s voice asked softly in her mind and Jala almost jumped in response. She had forgotten completely that the Blight child was with her. Emily had been silent since they had arrived.
What I thought I had to, she responded through the link.
What will he do with your blood? Emily asked with concern.
Blackmail me as he said he would, most likely, she replied with a slight shake of her head. Limply, she dropped to the edge of her mattress and propped her elbows on her knees. With a long sigh, she covered her face and rubbed at her stinging eyes. She had no idea how long it would be until the trial but she hoped it was soon.
The mattress shifted as the Blight child sat down beside her. She felt a slight weight against her arm as Emily rested her head on her. Careful to not give away the child’s presence to the others in the room Jala moved her arm behind the child and squeezed. I didn’t even
know you were in the cell with me, she told her and smiled faintly.
I didn’t want to leave you alone, Emily responded faintly.
I never got you the lunch I promised you. You must be starved. If I had known you were in here I would have shared my dinner.
I’m waiting. If your trial goes badly, I’ll eat well, Emily replied with promise in her tone.
* * *
“Jala wake up,” the voice called distantly through the thick fog of her mind. “Jala, up now,” it repeated again, refusing to allow her to drift back into her dreams. “Jala, get up,” it came again, louder and more insistent.
“I’m awake, Havoc, shut up!” she growled and sat up slowly. She felt Emily move away from where she had been nestled beside her and rose to her feet glowering at Havoc. “See, I’m up,” she said, holding both hands out to her sides.
“It only took my saying your name a few dozen times,” he replied dryly.
“I was having a pleasant Firym free dream,” she shot back irritably and stretched. Glancing toward the window, she sighed. By the light, she guessed she had only been asleep a few hours. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“Sounds more like a nightmare to me. Imagine, no Firym,” Havoc said with a mock shudder and smiled at her.
“How are you so chipper without sleep?” she asked, her eyes scanning her cell for something to drink. “Do you have any water out there?” she asked, looking up from her failed search.
“I don’t need much sleep, I’m never chipper, and I don’t drink water,” Havoc replied. He shifted his cloak slightly and produced a flask from an inner pocket. “I have Firewater though,” he offered.
“I’d rather die of dehydration,” she replied quietly.
“Technically, alcohol dehydrates you more anyway,” Havoc responded with a smirk.
“I have water,” Victory said, speaking up at last and handed a flask through the bars to her. “You have about twenty minutes before they call for you. The first of the high lords started arriving about an hour ago,” he informed her as she took a long pull from the flask.
The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 2 Blood Honor and Dreams Page 19