Nightlord: Sunset

by Garon Whited

  “I will trust you.”

  FRIDAY, MARCH 17TH

  I called Linnaeus and he made it back a little before sunset; he was in the middle of several things when I called. I sent for food and drink and made sure he and T’yl were comfortable while they had their talk. The conversation rapidly turned to a festival of name-dropping and varied opinion; my input became less and less relevant—or wanted. I suppose I shouldn’t feel bad. I know about six nobles, and four of them just stand to inherit. As for how the local grassroots movement would react to any given thing, I have about as much expertise as fish on fire.

  I’m not counting the sea-people and their experiments with it.

  Instead of bothering the experts, I curled up on the bed with the tome of the gateway and read for a bit.

  When was the last time I sat down to read a book? I don’t remember. Back in Jon’s library, perhaps… but that was more along the lines of flipping open something to find a reference, then back to the grindstone.

  This was a book. Not much on plot, perhaps, but an interesting read nonetheless. A lot of it was history as it applied to the doorway. Doorways, rather.

  In the City of Bones, there’s an ugly sort of doorway between worlds. Why it’s there, who built it, where it goes—none of that was explained. It was mentioned only because that magical doorway was the one studied to produce the less powerful one in Telen. And, apparently, the one in Arondel, in the magicians’ Academy.

  These doorways are really objects, independent of any wall or structure; they can be picked up—with a few people to help—and taken anywhere convenient. They can then be powered to go from any point to any other point, opening a hole in space. From what I read, the doors were designed to access each other; targeting some place without a similar door was much more difficult, requiring perhaps ten times the power.

  The theory that other worlds could be reached was mentioned, but that would be an order of magnitude worse than just opening a portal to some random spot in the same world. Instead of just ten times harder than a door-to-door opening, it would be ten times that—roughly a hundred times worse. Of course, to my perspective, opening a door-to-door connection would be a hundred times easier than the only thing I’d ever managed.

  I looked up, listened to the wrangling of the Rumor & News Control duo for a moment, and decided not to interrupt. T’yl could tell me what the doors were built for later. If they were intended as a method of rapid travel, why didn’t they have one in every major city? Because they were too complicated? The one in Telen was more elaborate than the designs in the book. There was no mention of the magical keys I’d swiped, either.

  I probably would have read the whole book straight through, but there was a knock at the door. By this time, I recognized the characteristic sound of the valet/bellhop/gofer. While Linnaeus and T’yl kept discussing, debating, and note-taking, I went over to it. A quick reach through the door with tendrils reassured me there was no one else there, so I opened up. The guy had a rolled note for me. I accepted it and tipped him, then shut the door. Back on the bed, I broke the wax—there was no crest—and read it.

  Written in a neat, feminine hand:

  I apologize on my own behalf for holding you prisoner. I should have taken your offer and freed you.

  I cannot speak for the other survivors of your wrath, for even if they yet live I know not where they are. I believe them to be likewise regretful.

  If you are prepared to make an equitable exchange, I am willing to discuss the trade of information for immortality.

  I will be in the common room of the Seven Roses Inn at two hours past sunset. I will also be there at two hours after sunrise. I will continue this for the next two days in the hope of a meeting. You may choose the time of the meeting that best suits you, if you will meet with me at all.

  It was unsigned.

  I checked the window and spotted the moon. It looked like I might have time to make the early appointment.

  I considered the note again. Information… in exchange for immortality. It would have to be something pretty important before I’d even consider it. But someone obviously thought it was important, impressively so. Or wanted to sucker me into another trap.

  The more I thought about it, the more I worried it was a trap. And the more I wanted to know what it was that she—I presumed it was a “she;” only two of the ladies had tried to make a private bargain—thought was worth immortality. “An equitable exchange” implied it was worth it, or that I’d consider it to be.

  I have a lot of faults. One of them is curiosity. It’s a shame I’m not part-cat; extra lives could be very, very useful.

  “Hey, guys?”

  Linnaeus looked up immediately; T’yl was talking quietly to someone through a crystal ball.

  “Where can I find the Inn of the Seven Roses? Or the Seven Roses Inn, if that’s different?”

  “I know of only the one,” Linnaeus answered. He gave me directions to a place in middle city. “It is a very expensive place, my lord, and specializes in discretion. Has my lord made arrangements with someone?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Can you two get along without me for an hour or so?”

  “I believe so, my lord,” Linnaeus said.

  “Good. I have a date. If you don’t see me before morning, try and find me, please.”

  Linnaeus bowed in his chair. I made sure I looked presentable—mainly by setting off a rock with a disguise spell embedded in it—and sauntered out.

  The directions were good; I found the place easily. It was actually a pleasant ride through the streets. I enjoyed the night air and the sights of the city. The only thing that marred the quaintly picturesque nature of the trip was the occasional gasp and murmur. The streets were less crowded at night, but the city was far from silent. People were out and about, but there weren’t throngs that needed to be shoved through. Still, nobody screamed or fainted, and comparatively few even knew who I was—probably just the gasp-and-murmur people.

  I left Bronze out front and tipped the horse-boy well to leave her there. I didn’t want him to lose fingers, and I did want her close to the door.

  The common room of the Seven Roses is hardly what one might expect of a medieval tavern, mainly because it wasn’t a tavern. It wasn’t even really an inn. I think I would describe it as more of a fancy motel for people who can’t have their affairs at home. Patrons were dressed in highly-concealing stuff, mainly fancy hats, cloaks, and the occasional mask.

  As I watched a lady go upstairs with a hat-wearing gentleman, I wondered… What’s the point of wearing a mask to go meet a clandestine lover? So everybody can know you’re having an affair? Heck, why have a professional establishment for the purpose of illicit affairs? So someone can stake the place out to check up on the husband or wife?

  I looked around the room. It was a very nice room. The chairs were padded, the tables small, and the outer edge of the room was lined with semi-private booths—they reminded me of office cubicles. A trio of masked musicians was playing over by a fireplace.

  Upon closer observation, I realized the patrons were unmasked; the staff was wearing masks. A masked man with a pair of wineglasses in hand moved from the bar to a cubicle; the lady in the cubicle sat up at his entrance and I could see a smile under her veiled hat. The man was trim, handsome, and graceful. I began to suspect the Seven Roses Inn wasn’t exactly a motel, either.

  A young lady, maybe seventeen or so, wearing long skirts and a mask, whisked to a stop beside me. She curtseyed deeply, eyes down, then rose to smile at me. It was a nice mask. It was a stylized, birdlike domino with a lot of feathers and fanciful hanging things, along with some sort of hair net done in the same style, like plumage. It pointed up the green in her eyes and made her smile stand out. The dress was rather unique, as well; I haven’t seen anything that low-cut since I stepped through a whirling pool of blood.

  “I am Keria,” she said, dipping low in a curtsey. “Will m’lord be pleased to sit?” she asked
, “or to take a room forthwith?”

  I had the feeling she would come with the room. So to speak.

  “I am looking for a lady,” I replied.

  She bobbed a curtsey again, this time with a little shimmy to the shoulders to display her own womanly proportions. Nice.

  “M’lord has found one,” she said, smiling wider and pitching her voice a little lower.

  “And a very pretty one, I must admit. But I have one in particular who asked that I meet her here.”

  “Oh.” I could swear that there was a little disappointment in her face. It was hard to tell with the mask in the way, and I didn’t bother to look at her heartlights. “Shall I seek her for you, m’lord?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll take a table in the middle, there, and wait for her. I kinda stand out, not wearing a hat and all.”

  “Indeed,” she murmured, and took my arm to lead me to a table. Once we were seated, I smiled at her.

  “Look, you don’t have to hang about with me. I really am supposed to meet someone in particular. If I were looking for other company, you would be absolutely excellent. But I’ve got a consort who is amazingly dangerous; I don’t dare cheat on her. If you’d like, you can go get another customer. I don’t want to cut into your business.”

  I’m pretty sure she blushed.

  “It… it is not that way, m’lord. Most of the… workers… are not paid by the person. The house charges a fee, and we are paid from that.”

  In spite of myself, I was curious. I’d never been in such an upscale whorehouse before. It was a far cry from the Squire’s place at Crag Keep.

  “So if a customer comes in the door, how do you decide who has to—what do you call it?”

  “Escort him, m’lord. If it is a lady, the next gentleman will take her. If a man, then the next lady will approach, as I have done. See yon pair of seats at the end of the bar?” She nodded toward them. I nodded that I did. “A man and a woman, watching the door. I was in her seat, until you came in. Now I will be with you until you dismiss me for the night.”

  I nodded. “Fair enough. But how do you get paid if I dismiss you? Say I sit here for six hours and do nothing but watch people come and go while making idle chit-chat?”

  “Then I have had a pleasant evening with a gentleman, lovely conversation, and an easy night,” she answered, “and I am certain a gentleman would let a lady go neither hungry nor thirsty.”

  I laughed quietly. “You have me there.”

  She lowered her eyes to the table. “And,” she added, more quietly, “I feel certain a gentleman would at least allow me to save face by taking me upstairs, whether I were to be used for his pleasure or not.”

  I smirked. “I’ll consider it. Don’t be pushy. I like you fine as you are, but I hate to be manipulated.”

  “I know.”

  I glanced at her sharply. She was looking squarely at me with no trace of mirth.

  “Do you, perhaps, know who I’m supposed to meet?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “How did you manage to time it exactly right to pair up with me?” I asked. Given the arrangements, it would be hard to do. “I have to know.” It’s the curiosity bug.

  “I am a magician of some skill. None here have the strength of will or power of mind to resist the spells I have woven over them.”

  “I see. All right. Can we talk here, or…?”

  “Take me upstairs, please. We must speak to the man behind the bar and pay the fee, but then we will have privacy for… whatever you must do.”

  “Fine.”

  We rose together and she laid a hand on one of my forearm guards rather than link arms. We made our tour past the bar before heading up the stairs. The place was pricey, but I expected that. Upstairs, there were several rooms; she led me to one, unlocked it, and we both went inside.

  Nice bedroom. Very nice. Three wardrobes, a big feather-bed, lots of pillows, a pair of washstands, even rugs on the floor.

  “There,” she said, taking off her mask. With the plumage gone, I saw the chestnut hair. With the hair and eyes as clues, I could see she looked even younger than she had when I was trapped in a magic circle. “Now we can talk.”

  “All right, talk. I know what you want. Why should I give it to you?”

  “Because I can find Melloch,” she answered, settling to the bed.

  Melloch. I remembered the name. He was the one who had called the Hunt, way back when. If I remembered correctly, he had sacrificed someone to call it up and send it to kill me. I don’t really know the man, but I don’t have to. He led the meddle of magicians that kidnapped me, locked me in a magic circle, hammered me flat, and stole my blood. I watched him lead them in a spell to crack my skull so they could slice open my ankles and bleed me for their experiments.

  Call me provincial, but I take that sort of thing personally.

  “I admit,” I said, “I would like to take a swing at him. But I don’t see that as being important enough to feed you blood until you change.”

  She toyed with the coverlet as I spoke, picking and plucking at it. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and her eyes were large and soft. Her pose was seductive, showing off her curves.

  “There are other things you could have,” she offered.

  “I told you I’ve got a consort,” I countered. “She would turn you into a steaming pile of ashes so fast it might not even hurt.”

  She sniffed. “There is no magician powerful enough to do that to me. I am old, Sir Halar. Old beyond any mortal lifetime. My skills are honed sharper than the razor’s edge.”

  “Okay. Did I mention she’s also a fire-witch?”

  That got her attention.

  “You… a nightlord and a …?”

  “Yep. So, while I don’t mind a floor show if you want to lounge around and look good—you do, and no mistake—you can get the idea of seducing me completely off your mind.”

  She sat up straighter and became all business. Pity, that. She really was beautiful.

  “Very well. You have shown that you can care about others and you have demonstrated loyalty to your friends. If you do not wish so dearly to kill Melloch, allow me to sweeten the offer.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “He still works closely with Cardinal Tobias.”

  “Still listening.”

  “He knows where the Cardinal has fled.”

  Hmm. I hadn’t known Tobias had actually fled anywhere. Of course, the number-two guy in the Hand was in council in Tobias’ place…

  “Fine. Let him run. I’m still not prepared to simply kill him, but I’m working up to it. If he’ll shut up and go away, I’ll settle for that.”

  She shook her head. “You are a fool.”

  “Probably. Almost certainly. But it’s my foolishness, thank you.”

  “As you will. Are you so much of a fool that you will also care about your dark-haired lady?”

  Shada.

  I must have shown it in my face. She smiled. “I see you do. You wish to know what bearing this gata wench has on the Cardinal?”

  “I don’t see how she’s involved,” I replied, carefully.

  “The Cardinal has taken her. She is in his possession at this moment. You came to her rescue once; he believes you will do so again.”

  All that self-doubt and self-recrimination for not taking the opportunity to beat Tobias’ head in with a banquet table came back and jeered at me. Then it pissed me off. Yeah, I still felt bad about not killing him—damn that ethical streak!—but this was, to me, a kettle of fish of another color entirely. Tobias was no longer just some nameless stranger. He was now an active offender using one of my friends as a hostage. I met him, disliked him—and now I had a heart-strong reason to kill him. Him personally, rather than a collection of flunkies, grunts, and lackeys.

  That changed everything.

  I took one long step to stand before her, almost nose-to-nose. It was a movement faster than the eye could follow. She froze, staring at me
, muscles rigidly locked in both surprise and terror.

  “Now I’ll kill him,” I whispered. “Where is he?”

  “Th-that… that I do not know,” she stammered. My expression must have been something terrible, because she immediately went on, “Melloch does!”

  I stepped back and she relaxed, trembling. Sometimes it’s good to be a terrifying being of the night.

  Melloch knows where Tobias is. Melloch is someone I want to kill anyway; that whole kidnapping and binding thing, you know. So, find Melloch, get the location out of him, and kill him. Find Tobias and therefore Shada—dammit, Utai! I keep thinking of her as Shada!—and kill the one, rescue the other. Sounds simple enough.

  I had the distinct feeling I was missing something.

  “How do I know that Melloch isn’t just in your way and you just want me to get rid of him—conveniently making you a nightlady in the process?”

  She pulled her composure together and eyed me coolly. “I have no other objectives but youth. At my age, there is nothing else of concern.”

  I watched her heart-lights as she spoke, and it looked like the truth to me.

  “All right, I believe you. Why is Melloch still with Tobias?”

  “I do not know.”

  “You worked with him, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you must have some idea.”

  Keria hesitated, thinking before she spoke.

  “Melloch is not… entirely…” she groped for a word. “Rational. I do not understand his motivations for anything.”

  Great. A pair of madmen. As if my life weren’t complicated enough.

  “Explain, please.”

  “At first, our partnership—all of us—agreed that to aid the Hand would give us the greatest hope of obtaining the blood of a nightlord. We have made use of many methods to hold back the advance of age, but even with all our knowledge and experience combined, we could but hold it at bay, not step aside from its path.” She rose and raised both hands to lift her hair. She turned about, showing herself.