by SL Figuhr
“It’s a letter asking for you to be investigated, due in part to ‘incompetence, conflict of interest, and collusion.’” Nicky ranted. “You moron! You pus-filled, useless sack of shit! I thought you had better control over the townspeople!”
Jake shuffled his feet, his face growing red in resentment. He tried to protest, but Lord Nicky would have none of it. “His Majesty commanded me to investigate the charges. You’d better hope no one else comes forward and add to it.”
“I’s can make sure they don’,” the lawman sullenly replied, realizing what the advisor had said. “Hey! Why’s some bitch be writing youse? I done tol’ her I look into it.” An’ it ain’t been so long I talked wit’ her, neither.
“You pea-brained lout! His Majesty has forced me to suspend you from your post while I investigate. And why? Because the woman who you call a ‘bitch’ is a duchess! Sammy is sheriff until I can manage to convince His Majesty the charges are false.”
“We’s can jus’ visit the damn woman an’ make her take back what she wrote,” Jake suggested. “She ain’t gots no duke, no fighting men— just three slaves, an’ I heards she ain’t allowed to use her title anyhow. King said so.”
The withering look the young man gave him should have had him curling up on the spot. “That’s your solution? Assault a member of the nobility without provocation?” Nicky stared for a heartbeat before letting loose with a blood-curdling scream of rage. He snatched his sword from its scabbard, leaping over the desk at the lawman.
The sheriff barely got his sword out in time. The force of Lord Nicky’s blow sang up his arm. He could do nothing but defend himself from the furious onslaught. “DiJinn, get ’im off me! Get ’im off me!” he squealed.
The hooded and cowled slave stood humming, soaking up the waves of rage and fear. It was not long before Nicky had forced the lawman to his knees.
“Please, please, please youse lordship,” he begged. “I can make it right. I can cleans the mess up. Don’t-don’t kill me! Ain’t no one’s gonna be able to keep the lawmen on yer side buts me.” He was babbling, he knew.
Nicky had exhausted himself, burning out the worst of his rage. He couldn’t let the man go unpunished. He slashed both sides of Jake’s face with the tip of his sword, on top of the cuts the sheriff had received from the foreign whore. “Consider yourself lucky it’s only a flesh wound. Fail to inform me of anything else ever again and I’ll let DiJinn punish you.”
“I need a spy in her household. Who can we use?”
“Uh, um, well . . .” Jake began.
“I wasn’t asking you. You can’t find your dick with both hands and a map. DiJinn?” He turned back to his slave, missing the look of hate from the chastened man behind him.
“She needs slaves for her household; why not talk to your contacts at the market? They can pick out several who will agree to be loyal in return for promised freedom. When and if they are no longer useful, you can always kill them.”
Nicky scowled. “I suppose it could work.” He paced the room as he thought. “Damn bastard! Nine years I’ve spent undermining nobles with more power than I, trying to get a decent title, and he goes and lets a duchess stay here.”
DiJinn whispered for Nicky’s ears alone, “She is a woman. Perhaps a personal visit is in order? You have put off meeting with her several times already.”
The young man glared at his slave. “Why should I lower myself to visit her? I will command her to see me here, so she understands how powerful I am.”
“It will keep her off guard! She will believe you are sincere in your intentions. If it’s a display of power, take her to the hanging grounds and explain what happens to rule breakers.” Must I think of everything for the idiot holding my reins? DiJinn sniggered; an encounter with the immortal woman could be the opportunity to free himself of the young man and exact his revenge for all the humiliations and mistreatment.
Nicky stared at him in loathing and spat, “Idiot! We can’t kill him! Not when the bitch has made the king aware he exists, and she is expecting him to find the truth of the matter. Are you trying to expose us? Get us killed? You will do nothing to him until I can figure out what the bitch thinks she knows. There has to be a way out until I can tell His Majesty she is overreacting or some other equally believable lie.”
Jake didn’t have an answer, and it didn’t seem one was required of him. “Go,” Nicky commanded, “and do what I’ve told you to do. And sheriff,” he warned menacingly, “you had better not fail me again.”
“No, me lord. Of course not, me lord. Right away, me lord,” He mylorded himself out the door to do as he was bid, thinking it was lucky the little bastard hadn’t heard how his bandits were being attacked and killed.
“What is the holdup?” Nicky snarled. No one made him wait; he was the king’s advisor. He picked a nonexistent piece of lint off his black velvet gold-braided riding coat. Fawn-colored leather breeches tucked into tall shiny black riding boots, a crop, and pristine white thin leather gloves finished off his outfit.
Horse hooves rang out. A groom came around the side leading a big black stallion. The animal reared, striking out with his front hooves, scattering men. He pranced in place, tossing his head, while his constant neighing sounded like the beast was talking. He forgot his complaints at the sight of the animal. The horse was all glossy muscle, with a flowing mane and tail.
She spoke to the animal while caressing his nose and spent a few minutes inspecting tack and saddle—he calmed down long enough for her to mount him.
Nicky had resigned himself to meeting the woman, expecting the tales of her good looks to be grossly exaggerated and for her to be mannish and ugly-looking. The riding costume belied that expectation: tight black leather pants, paired with tall, shiny black riding boots with red tops, a split-tailed riding coat of crimson with intricate black embroidery over a white shirt, and a tall black-feathered hat perched at a jaunty angle, the net veil accentuating her pale complexion. It explained why so many men fawned over her and agreed to her whims. Well, she would find he was not weak. She had found someone to fashion dark glass into eye shades she could wear. Her long hair was in a curling tail lying over one shoulder.
He narrowed his eyes, tempted to see how well she could stay on the beast. “Follow me. I know a place where we can ride without being bothered.” He snickered to himself.
The path would take them past some hangings, only a bonus. His chestnut gelding tried to rear, wanting to show the stallion he was just as good, but Nicky curbed him sharply and rammed his heels into his mount's side. The horse arched his neck as they passed the stallion, who shrieked and stomped his right front hoof.
Their small party set out through the town center, she bringing her groom while he had at least a dozen retainers in his colors of black and gold. They trotted out the courtyard gate across the bridge, his herald and two outriders, one holding a banner emblazoned with his coat of arms, clearing a path for them. She kept up easily.
He could hear the roar of a crowd. “I must tell you, it would not be wise to purchase slaves who are known rebels. Our laws state they are to be put to death for such crimes. It would be a shame if you were indirectly indicted for encouraging such behavior amongst them.”
He was mildly disappointed when she showed no emotion at his warning, only arched a brow. “I am not so sure he should even be a slave, Did His Majesty not send along my note?”
Their party stopped at the edge of a crowd. Children played off to one side, enterprising vendors hawked various foodstuffs and drinks. A few participants already appeared drunk, and he ground his teeth, snapping, “Since you have brought it up, we must discuss it.” The rest of his sentence was lost to the roar of the assembled townspeople.
A tucket of trumpets announced the arrival of a cart carrying condemned prisoners. The noise from the crowd swelled tenfold as drummers started to beat out the final march. Rotten vegetables, spit, and curses hurled at the occupants. The palace guards pushed townspeople out
of the way so the cart could stop next to the gallows. Roughly they hauled several prisoners up the stairs. The screams of pain or pleas for mercy only served to excite the crowd more. Two of the guards had to hold up a woman as she couldn’t stand on feet ruined by torture. A scrawny man with long, scraggly, greasy hair and beard, wearing a filthy brown robe tied with rope, stood off to one side making strange hand gestures and muttering. The herald stepped next to the condemned and, facing the crowd, raised his hands for silence.
“These criminals stand before you, good people, for actions most heinous.” The crowd shouted and cheered. The herald had to hold his hands up for silence.
“This slave who stands before you attempted to escape his bondage. He shall be drawn and quartered!” The crowd booed as he worked his way down the line of condemned.
“This one conspired with an enemy of the king against his rightful master! He will be flayed alive then hanged for the crows!” The herald paused again for the crowd’s reaction, smiling.
“For being an enemy of the king and Lord Nicky, she is sentenced to forty lashes with a cat o’ nine and imprisoned in the hanging cage until the flesh do slough from her bones.’”
The crowd screamed madly as the guards raised the woman’s hands over her head and tied them up, stretching her body so all her weight rested on mangled feet. The herald moved back as the executioner stepped up with the cat o’ nine tails held loosely in his hand. He shook out the metal-spike-tipped braided leather tails. The sound of leather on flesh brought screams of joy from the crowd, drowning out the cries of pain from the slave.
Nicky looked over at Lady Illyria, an ugly smirk upon his face. He was hoping for some sort of emotion: disgust, horror, anything. No, she merely observed the proceedings for a moment before turning her attentions to the crowd, smiling slightly in amusement. He could have sworn her eyes flashed honey golden flame in hunger.
He looked to see what had caught her attention and almost missed one of his thieves cutting a fat purse loose. It angered him enough to say, “Take a good look at the woman, my lady.”
“I take it the poor woman had to rely upon the ineptness and incompetence of Sheriff Jake. I feel for her. The people should not have to suffer because he cannot do his job.”
“Did you hire the lout?" she fired back. “If you know the woman to be innocent, would it not be better to pardon her and place the sheriff in her stead?”
“I think it would be a morale booster for the town, punish the corrupt, and restore faith in the populace. It would serve as a warning for the next sheriff such behaviors won’t be tolerated.”
“How unfortunate for us all. I would image after enough torture, anyone would break, saying anything particular parties wanted if it meant a release from pain. Would it not be better if there were no head questioner, and other methods employed in discovering truth or guilt?”
He did not like the smile she gave him; it seemed to mock. She would pay dearly. “If I were you, I would hold my tongue and not offer opinions on matters you have no understanding of. You are a foreigner here. Our ways have always worked. Nothing goes on in the kingdom I don’t know about!”
He nudged his horse closer to hers, hand clenched around the handle of his riding crop. He so wanted to use it on her for her insolence he could hardly think straight. “You would do well to look again at the criminal. Her fate could be yours, the fate of all who displease me grievously, and because I can, and no one can say or do otherwise.”
“I don’t give a damn what you care, cow!” he shrieked, unaware of the stares he drew from those nearest in the crowd. “The only thing you should concern yourself with is in following and obeying our laws and customs. Fail to do so and your fate will be worse than hers. I trust we understand each other?”
Her lip curled, the look of disgust she gave him angered him even more. “I am no slave to bully, no weak-willed maid to cower in fright. What law or laws am I supposed to have broken, if you would be so good as to inform me?”
“Your rebel slave! I had better not hear of you buying any more and acting as if they have a cause to champion. Nor will you go around accusing the sheriff of being unable to do his job. Do I make myself clear?”
“As I explained to Jake, I was concerned with parts of the story and what he had done, being as the slave is quite strenuous in protesting his innocence.”
Nicky had the unsettling feeling she was trying to peer through his eyes and into his thoughts before she spoke, “I do not wish to give undue offense to His Majesty’s advisor. I apologize. We seem to be at crosspurposes. I have already settled the matter of the slave’s story to my satisfaction. My intent was to ask you for the favor of making sure the sheriff does not unduly target my slaves. If you could assure me he can be made to understand and comply, I am more than willing to forget any previous complaints I had against him.”
Nicky fumed at the audacity of her request as DiJinn hummed happily to himself. He couldn’t have planned the argument better if he tried. He spoke low-voiced in a tongue only the advisor understood, and received a glare for his efforts.
The young man sneered, deciding she really was stupid, but he did like being owed favors, and her eagerness to fix the mess his moronic sheriff made by putting herself square in his hands left him feeling generous.
Lord Nicky smirked. “Very well. I shall meet with Jake on your concerns. In return, I will choose when and how you owe me.” He twisted in his saddle to address his slaves.
“Let her go. DiJinn, see to my orders.” He ignored her fulsome thanks, turning back to the platform in time to see the nearly dead body of the female slave being placed in a hanging cage. He noticed a familiar figure on horseback at the edge of the crowd and froze. He didn’t realize he’d made a sound until his slave spoke low in his ear.
“Do you see? That man there! Guards! Guards! Arrest that man there!’” Nicky pointed to Mica, squirming in rage and fear, forgetting he had a demon to help him, so upsetting was the man’s presence. He has to be looking for me. It means the damn bastard must be trying to end my life again! How the hell did he learn I might be here? And where is my soul gem?
A frown marred DiJinn’s face as he looked. Oh, it was only one of the visiting merchant men. Deny me the lives and souls of men I need to regain my power and survive, and regret it, little boy.
Next to him, Nicky continued to gesture wildly, screaming for his guards, who had been clearing a path for Lady Illyria. The man left the town square with a wave of people.
“Calm yourself. You’re attracting too much attention. I know what the man looks like. I will get information on him for you.” It is no big thing to give him. Keep him from guessing I am really working against him to free myself. “You are not the little boy he thinks you are.”
“I have told you, that is beyond even my power. Why tip him off you are looking for him until you know the real reason he is here? You have changed; he may not even recognize you. It is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Nicky glared at the people around him until they looked away, concerning themselves with the punishments before them. I must not make mistakes now—not when I’m so close to gaining everything I ever wanted. It’s what I have a demon for: to protect me from other immortals. He felt out of sorts; what should have been a pleasant outing and a showing of his power to a cow of a woman had instead ended in near-disaster.
Chapter Fourteen
The enraged shout was all the warning Saizar had before his arms were pinned behind him by two of his fellow guards. Jake stood before him, red of face, and gut-punched him. His breath whooshed out. If he hadn’t been prevented from doing so, he would have doubled over in pain.
“I’s should sell youse to slavers meself for what youse done,” Jake struck the man’s jaw. “Youse my man,”—punch—“not some lackey for a bitch of a disgraced noble!” Punch.
Saizar could do nothing but struggle, hoping his attackers’ grip would loosen so he could mitigate the anger of the man before him
as a cold, icy dread filled his belly. “Your pardons, ugh,” he grunted at a blow, “sheriff. It sounded a reasonable request.” He couldn’t speak after another forceful punch to his gut.
The sheriff got a fistful of black hair, yanking his man’s head back to bring their faces so close he was spitting on the other. “How many times do I’s gots to tell youse. Youse only ask questions of stuff I’s tell youse too. Anybodies brings questions, complaints, or anythings, youse tell me first. Youse don’t go promising to look inta it.” A flurry of punches to the face and body followed.
Saizar rocked with each blow, felt his nose break, spilling warm blood. He wasn’t sure how long the beating went on, but found himself free on hands and knees, his blood dripping to mingle with the dirtencrusted wood floor.
Jake snorted, spitting before he walked away to the far end of the barracks with the two men who had helped. Saizar kept his head down, turning it to the side as the men stopped to talk in low voices between themselves. Snatches of conversation floated back to him as he tried to breathe and determine if any ribs had been broken.
The voices moved off, down the stairs. Saizar didn’t like what he’d overheard. He had to discover what they were planning, no matter how hurt he was.
As Saizar shadowed the traitor, he wondered how much good he was doing as a lawman. He was only allowed to continue because Jake needed a scapegoat, someone to lull the commoners into thinking themselves guarded by good men, and not a pack of wolves.
I am spit upon, treated with derision, fear, and hatred. I need to bring proof of who supports the sheriff to the king, without losing my life.Saizar had ridden out early, while it was still light, in the hopes that he’d find the place he sought more easily; the valleys could be tricky— more so when dark—and risky, with all the outlaws and bandits plaguing the area. The sheriff’s man left all known roads behind. He rode through forest, following one branch of the river. He had thought he was making good progress, but now, he wasn’t sure. It was pitch black beneath the evergreens and trees, some still had a few leaves clinging.