Beatrix said nothing for a long while, simply shook her head at the floor. Finally, “That night, I put terricon in her evening drink. I used to use it on the boys when they couldn’t sleep. When Firth was young, he had the worst nightmares. That little herb helped him through many a night. Helped me, too, I’ll tell you. Hard to put in a day’s work when you’ve been up all night with a terrified child screaming about the Prince coming for him.”
“Min,” Riken nudged.
“My apologies,” she said as if jerked from a happy memory. “Anyway, after the terricon, a lightning bolt in her ear wouldn’t have woken her, so it was easy to get her out of the house. No one’s up that time of night here. The Mon, he sleeps like a worn-out sow, and the Min, well…even before her precious Sage went missing, she put back hers and your share of wine, I can tell you. I had the boys waiting outside for me, and we put her in a cart and wheeled her down to a little shack near the docks.”
“Is she still there?” Riken asked, fretful to get this confession moving.
“Nay. I told you she’s gone. We kept her there in that shack. The boys watched her. They didn’t want to at first, didn’t want nothing to do with it, until I told them what I’d found out. They were good to her. We kept her fed and warm and safe. I didn’t want to hurt Sage. My grievance wasn’t with her. I’ve always liked her well enough. She’s a good girl, I suppose. Not her fault who her parents are, but this was the only course I could think of. I’d planned on letting her go after a time. I just wanted to let those two stew for awhile. Let them feel what real pain was like for a change, like I had.”
“When you lost your daughter?”
“You know about that, huh? Not too surprising, I guess. It’s your business to know things.” Beatrix’s face twisted, conjuring a dark old memory. Her hands fell to her lap, and she patted at the folds of her robe. “Aye, my Winnie. She was six when she was taken from me. Hair like a golden sun, that one. Sweet as the winter is long. Used to get up before me of a morn, so she could get the fire started, and the house would be warm for me when I came down to fix breakfast. She was always doing thoughtful things like that. Uncommon for one so young. I wanted to die when I lost her. I lay in bed for days on end, wondering what I’d done wrong, what I’d done to deserve such a thing. I’d lost a child in birth a few cycles before. That’s hard, that kind of thing, but…this was different. This was something the mind just can’t…won’t…”
Beatrix raised her eyes to Riken. Deep sorrow overtook them for a brief moment, then they flared with sudden, violent anger so forceful Riken had to check his shirt to make sure it hadn’t caught fire. Her small, calloused hands gripped into fists until her knuckles bled white as the brittle hair atop her head.
“When I met that little whore’s son Sefen in the tavern, he listened to my story, and comforted me. When he offered me a place in the Ullimar household, I took it. I needed something to do with myself besides lying around the house all day. I’d lost my job at the fishhouse, since I hadn’t come in for weeks, and I figured this would help keep my mind occupied. I never thought there was anything strange about the offer. He seemed a kind man wanting to help a grieving old woman. The rich need folk like me to do the things they think beneath them. I figured it was leagues better to come home smelling of lye than fish guts. I worked here almost half a cent before I found out why he’d really made the offer.”
“Why, Min?” Riken asked.
“It was when Jillian started working here,” Beatrix said, obviously determined to tell the tale the way she saw fit. “I caught her crying in Sage’s room one day. I didn’t usually have much to do with her. I hadn’t really noticed it before, but Sefen was pretty handy at keeping us apart. She was changing out the bed linens, and just broke down. I went to her, asked her what was wrong, and she told me about her little girl, taken just like my Winnie. Don’t know how I could’ve been so damnably blind for so long. Even then, I didn’t put it together. But then, many cycles later, when Jatta come, I finally saw…”
As the implication dawned on him, Riken suddenly felt like he’d been trampled beneath a horde of stampeding cattle. “They took them,” he said in a long breath.
Beatrix nodded, the dam within her eyelids breaking, allowing a flood of tears to gush forth. She put her face in her hands again, as if embarrassed by the display.
“In the name of the Father, why?” Riken asked.
Beatrix either didn’t have an answer, or couldn’t summon the strength to offer it. She continued to cry. Over his shoulder, Riken saw Uther’s massive shape walk around the chair and tower over the woman. He reached his hand down, placed it on her arm, then knelt beside her. Without her looking up, he engulfed her in his arms, pulling her head to his chest. Beatrix allowed herself to sink into him, wetting his jerkin with her tears as he rocked her trembling body back and forth.
“Where’s Sage?” Riken asked.
A small whine, muffled by Uther’s chest, escaped the old woman’s lips. Without pulling away, through fitful sobs, she said, “I…went to check on her four days back…and…my boys were knocked out on the floor, and…she was gone. The boys said a group of men had come. They tried to fight them off, but there were too many. They took her.” Beatrix pushed away from Uther. With one hand, she wiped at her moist face. “I never meant to harm her. I was going to let her go after a spell, I swear to the Wind. She’s a good girl, always good to me, nothing like those two. I just…I had to do something for my Winnie. I don’t know what they did to her, but they stole her from me. They deserve to pay for their sins. They needed to know what it’s like to have the most precious thing in their world ripped away from them.”
“Min?” Riken asked urgently.
“After those men took her, and Sage didn’t return, I knew we’d be found out. I didn’t care what happened to me. I’d known from the beginning that I’d have to pay for my part, but my boys…they didn’t…they were just doing what their mother asked of them. So I sent them to you, to make you stop looking. If I’d have known…if I’d ever have thought…I’ve lost everything in my life, Mon Snowtear. It’s all been taken away – my Winnie, my Firth, my Wenton. I’ve nothing left.”
A smile spread on Beatrix’s tear-stricken face, so hideous and jubilant that Riken almost recoiled. She looked deranged as she rose from the floor. Even Uther took a step back.
“I could hate you, Riken Snowtear,” she said with a sick laugh. “You took my boys from me. But I don’t. I’ve none left for you. All that I have is wrapped up in equal parts for Gregor Ullimar, his drunken twit of a wife, and myself. I hate us all. Them for what they did to my family, me…because I’m…I’m glad Sage got taken. I never meant for it to happen, but I’m glad. Now they know what I was never fully prepared to teach them. Now they feel what I suffer every waking hour of my miserable life. I’ll burn in Vilis right along with the Prince himself for what I’ve done, but I care not. I’m glad their little fawn is gone from them. And I hope she stays gone.”
With that, Beatrix collapsed. Riken froze, his stomach in bile-soaked knots. Uther remained stationary, his face a mix of pity and horror, as the woman cried and laughed in a clump on the floor.
When his limbs regained the power to move, Riken backed away and Uther followed, leaving the old woman to pour out her wild fit in solitude.
Beside him, Riken heard Uther’s heavy breathing. He looked to his friend, noting the familiar glower. The big man turned his head to Riken, his eyes cold.
“Where?” Uther asked through clenched, grinding teeth.
Beatrix jerked her lunatic face up, and said through a long laugh, “The Mon went to his bedroom for a nap. How nice to be able to sleep the afternoon away. Bid him farewell for me as well, big fellow.”
Uther spun and headed for the hallway, his stomping footfalls echoing through the cavernous room. Riken was almost positive a few of the painting hanging on the walls shook in Uther’s wake. Helplessly watching the enraged giant beat his determined path, Riken
thanked every solitary thing he held dear that his name was Riken Snowtear. It might not be the grandest name in all of Cryshal, but it could’ve been much worse. At least it wasn’t Gregor Ullimar.
Chapter Fifteen
On the second floor, the strong stench of whiskey overpowered Riken’s senses, like someone was bathing in it. Uther followed the scent like a trail, barreling down a long hallway and kicking in every door he came to until he found the right one. Riken had to jog to keep up.
On his fifth attempt, Uther froze in the archway of the door his heavy boot had just split in two. Panting, Riken eased beside him, the sour smell of whiskey watering his eyes and clogging his nostrils. Through the crack between Uther’s arm and chest, Riken peered into the room, and his faculty gave a perplexed lurch.
“Gentlemen,” Gregor Ullimar said, holding an empty whiskey bottle over his head. Four extra bottles littered the hardwood floor at his feet, resting in the accumulated pool of golden liquid dripping from the man’s hair and emerald robes. “I fear you’ve caught me at an inopportune time, but do come in.”
“Mon Ullimar,” Riken said, nodding for want of a more sensible way to greet the macabre situation.
The man of the house sat on the edge of a spacious four-post bed of white gold draped with linens that looked comfy enough to be buried in. His usually neat hair was matted to his forehead, droplets of whiskey trickling down a face so devoid of life it resembled a statue. Deep crimson varnished the blues of his eyes.
“Mon Snowtear,” Ullimar said, shaking the last droplets of whiskey from the bottle onto his glistening head. Red eyes looked from Riken to Uther. “I fear we haven’t had the pleasure, Mon.”
Uther said nothing.
“This’s Uther Penet, Mon Ullimar,” Riken said, brushing past his friend. Fully in the room, he had to cup his hand over his mouth and nose to ward off the suffocating odor.
“Well met, I’m sure, Mon Penet,” Ullimar said to Uther with a polite tilt of his head, his voice hollow, seeming to deplete the air from the room. “Have you met my beautiful bride?”
As Ullimar gestured to his left, Riken and Uther turned their heads in unison. Uther’s body slumped, and Riken’s stomach convulsed so that he tasted the steak he’d enjoyed that morning. Luckily, his hand was still over his mouth, so he impeded the majority of it from retching onto the floor.
“By the Father,” Riken said, and heard a soft laugh from Ullimar.
“The Father, indeed,” the man said just above a whisper.
At the far end of the Ullimars’ large bedroom, a rope hung from one of the rafters, Marr Ullimar’s bloated head attached to the opposing end. Her feet were a yard above the ground –one bare, the other sporting a sleek, satin shoe that matched her sinuous, black evening dress to perfection. Her curly, onyx hair dangled almost pleasantly in a face that she’d taken the time to apply simple, elegant makeup to. It had undoubtedly looked ravishing when she’d done it, but one bulging eye and a fat tongue protruding from her darkly painted lips ruined the intended effect.
For the longest time, Uther appeared unable to wrench his eyes away from the grisly sight. His face had gone a shade paler, but when he turned and took a single assured step toward Ullimar, it burned red.
“Easy there, big man,” Ullimar said, holding up his hand as if the movement expended most of his energy.
Uther didn’t stop, but as Riken watched Ullimar wiggle his index finger at the approaching man, he had a vision of the first time he’d been in this house. Sitting in the same den where Beatrix Glaison had moments ago confessed her part in Sage’s disappearance, Riken had watched Gregor light his pipe from the tip of his own finger.
By the Father. “Uther,” Riken said. “Pyron.”
The seething giant halted, and Gregor Ullimar’s hand slumped back to his lap.
“I didn’t kill her,” he said with a longing look in the dangling woman’s direction. “Marr is my wife, my love. I could never hurt her. I treasure her like nothing else in this world. You should probably back up a little, big man.”
Uther obliged, but remained at the ready.
“What about Sage?” Riken asked cautiously.
A slender ember of life sparked momentarily in Ullimar’s eye, but when he spoke, the morose greyness returned.
“Ah, my Sage,” he said. Riken couldn’t tell if the wetness around his eyes was from tears or just accrued whiskey. “My darling, my heart. My lost gem. I’ve failed at so much in my life. I never thought I’d fail her too. What kind of man allows events to circle so out of control? A weak man.”
“The other girls, where are they?”
“Gone, like my child.”
“Where?”
“When she was young, she’d come into my office when I was working,” he said as if he hadn’t heard Riken’s question. He closed his eyes, which seemed to ward off his demons, if briefly. “I was always so terribly busy, so little time for anything but business, always business. I’d be pouring over papers and papers of nonsensical drivel – payroll records, mining reports, trade price fluctuations from Burden and Vision, drivel – and she’d poke her little head in my door. She never made a sound till I’d raise my eyes to her, which, I’m sad to say, may have been many marks of the sundial. When I finally would, her tiny, round face would light up like a star had exploded in the room, and she’d patter over to me like a little fawn. I’d pick her up, set her on my knee, bounce her a couple times, then set her back to the floor so I could continue my work.”
“Mon Ullimar…”
“Then she’d leave, just as quiet as she’d come. No anger, no hurt, no denouncement of her neglectful father, at least not outwardly. But I knew. I felt it in my gut. She must have been such a lonely child – a father too busy to provide even ten minute’s time, a mother forever elsewhere, parading from this function to that, this shop and that. Thank the Fire, she had Min Dumay. That woman was more parent to Sage than myself and my dear Marr combined could ever have hoped to be.”
As much as he loved a good trip down Decadence Lane, Riken didn’t have time for Mon Ullimar’s wallowing.
“Mon Ullimar,” he said. “I need to know where the other girls are.”
“I told you. Gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Away.”
“A little more specification would be nice,” Riken said.
“It matters little now,” Ullimar said.
“It matters to their mothers, to the people who love them. It’s clear you love your daughter, Mon. Why won’t you help me find her?”
“It’s too late.”
“Perhaps, not. Where are they?”
Ullimar breathed in deep. He opened his eyes and stared at the empty whiskey bottle in his lap as if he hadn’t noticed it before. Speaking to the floor, he said, “They’ll be in Black Earth soon.”
“Black Earth? Why, in the Father’s name?”
A sickening whisper of a laugh escaped the man’s lips, accompanied by a smile that perverted his face into the mask of an evil jester.
“Business,” he said.
Beside Riken, Uther tensed, waiting.
When Riken could think of nothing to say – a condition utterly foreign to him – Ullimar expounded.
“Minerals, Mon Snowtear,” he said, his face once again despondent. “That’s the business passed down to me from my father and his before and so on. Gems, coal, ore, gold, what have you. The bounty of Cryshal’s hidden crevices has been most kind to the Ullimar clan for cents. It’s made us an exceedingly prosperous lot.”
“So it seems,” Riken said.
“Sooner or later, everything comes with a price. My father, for all I know, was graciously spared his share of such expense. He lived his entire existence in utter splendor, growing fat on the spoils of the land and those who paid him handsomely for his grandiose holdings. A great man, he was, but he never knew true hardship. That little verity, he left to his only son.”
“What has this to do with the lo
st girls and Black Earth?” Riken asked, though his nauseous stomach was already formulating an answer.
“Mines,” Ullimar said, his tenor falling ever lower, so that Riken had to inch forward and strain to hear. “One can’t suck at the honeyed teat of minerals without them. I hold claim to some forty all over Cryshal, most here in the East. My most affluent rest on the outer rims of that dead land of Black Earth. Four of them, I have there. A single one cyclically yields more than any ten of their kin.”
“Get around to your point,” Uther said, his fists gripping his pants, pulverizing the fabric.
“Uther,” Riken said with a wave of his hand. In Ullimar’s state, he wouldn’t be rushed, and, as much as he desired to, Riken couldn’t risk doing anything to accelerate the man’s intended demise.
Ullimar picked up like nothing had happened. As he spoke, he attempted the difficult feat of keeping his gaze shy of his wife’s hanging body, as if looking upon it might strike him dead where he sat.
“A mere fifty cycles after my father’s death, our comfortable life took a grinding hit. My four Black Earth mines, which supplied me with copious amounts of gold and emeralds, were taken from me by a clan of wandering barbarians known as the Black Earth tribe. They slaughtered an entire mining party of over a hundred men. They had, and still have, rather substantial numbers, to be sure, so anything short of an all-out war to reclaim my holdings would’ve been met with unqualified defeat.”
“At first, I saw no recourse. With a heavy heart, I decided to let the infringement pass. What could I do? I was helpless to detour them. I couldn’t fight, and I couldn’t risk the lives of more workers. Little as I craved the notion, I could live without the income provided by those mines. And I did, until I met Sefen, and he provided me with a means to solve my tribulations.”
“I knew that prim little whore’s son was involved in all this,” Riken said.
Ullimar shrugged. “It all happened so slowly, so subtlety,” he said. “I met him through Pennerie Lairson. Sefen was in his service at the time, but Pen was moving to Freedom to take a position in Gabriel Yarling’s court. Pen raved about the man, asked me if I was interested in acquiring him on my house staff. I met with Sefen, interviewed him, found him immediately agreeable. I hired him right away, made him my head manservant. Soon, he was making the house run so smoothly, I put him in charge of the entire staff.”
Snowtear Page 13