The Lascar’s Dagger

by Glenda Larke

  Her smile was faint. “A witan who doesn’t trust Va enough?”

  “A witan no longer. Can you come back here tomorrow, at the same time?”

  “It’s not usually a problem for me to sneak out and about. Can you take me and the child to Vavala?”

  He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even begin to explain the compulsion he was under. “No,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t.”

  Her gaze was steady, but he read contempt there.

  “I’ll have the money for you from selling the ruby tomorrow. And some instructions on where to go and what to do to keep the child safe.”

  She nodded. “I’ll meet you here at the same time. If something goes wrong, then I’ll try again the next day, and the next.” She stood up, looking down at him. “There’s something else I haven’t told you. The reason twins are killed in Lowmeer.”

  He looked at her in amazement. “How would you learn that?”

  “The Regal told Mathilda,” she said, and repeated all she had overheard.

  He listened, sinking deep into a frozen horror as the story unfolded. When she finished, he could think of nothing to say.

  She said flatly, “You knew this already.”

  “No. Well, only part of it. I didn’t know it was the Vollendorn line that contrived this horror and foisted it on their own populace. Va rot it – if the Regal ever gets an inkling that you know this, you’ll lose your head.”

  “That’s the least of your concerns. Witan, if this is all true, then one of Mathilda’s twins will be a devil-kin. He might become the Regal. Or he might be the one I save.”

  “Yes. And stop calling me witan. I’m not a cleric any more.”

  “So, are we doing the right thing?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I cannot kill babies, and I can’t allow Lady Mathilda’s child to be killed. You’re right. The Pontifect is the person to deal with this. If anyone can work out how to solve it, she can. I’ll write you a letter to take with you to give to her. And if it’s any comfort, a devil-kin won’t manifest their evil until he or she is at least half-grown.”

  She nodded, smoothing down her skirts. “The Regal said that too. Thank you, Saker. For offering to help.”

  Rising to face her, he said, “There – there is one other thing I’d like to ask you.”

  “Go ahead. Just try not to insult me.”

  She gave the ghost of a smile as she said the words, and he tried to reciprocate but knew his attempt was wan. “Have you heard about a gift given by the merchant Uthen Kesleer to Regal Vilmar? Three golden feathers from the Va-forsaken Hemisphere.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. In fact I’ve seen them. They are set into a fan.”

  “Where does the Regal keep them?”

  “Near his bed. Inside a carved chest. Why do you want to know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Come, let me walk you back to the city.”

  She didn’t move to take his arm when he offered it to her. “Why do I get the impression that we are not really talking about ordinary feathers?”

  “We aren’t. They come from an island in the Summer Seas, I believe.”

  “But what can be special about feathers?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She tilted her head to one side and regarded him thoughtfully. “I think you ought to tell me what you have so far avoided doing, and explain why you are in Ustgrind.”

  “What is there to explain? I had to leave Ardrone, as you know.”

  “There’s something you’re not saying. If you have no business here, then why not accompany me to Vavala? It would … be easier for me.”

  Oh, Va, if only I could. If only. But Ardhi would never let him go to Vavala for fear the fleet might sail without him. What a pilgarlic Sorrel must think him, turning his back on her and the baby like this.

  Once again he could think of nothing to say.

  “I would have thought you’d care more about the fate of Mathilda’s children.”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do than escort you and the child, believe me. It’s just that I’m not sure I’ll be free to do so. I can’t explain more than that. I’m sorry. I’ll give you the name of someone who will help you, a woman cleric.”

  “You’d trust her?”

  “Oh yes. Rescuing twins has been her life’s work. Her name is Witan Shanny Ide, and she works at the Seminary of Advanced Studies. It’s on the west side of Ustgrind, on the outskirts. I’ll ask her to find a wet nurse who’ll go with you to Vavala. I won’t tell her exactly who you are, or whose baby you have.”

  Once again he offered her his arm, and this time she took it.

  “You have really surprised me,” she said. “I’d have thought nothing would have stopped you from saving Mathilda’s child.”

  Oh, sweet Va. There was no mistaking her meaning, and his heart tightened painfully in his chest. “Celandine…”

  “Sorrel.”

  “Sorrel. Are you trying to tell me this child – these children – could be mine?”

  “I’d have thought you could have answered that better than I.”

  He floundered on, embarrassed, blushing, humiliated. “Lady Mathilda told me there’d be no problem and not to worry about it. I know – I knew court women have many ways to prevent unwanted children. She was not taken by surprise, you know.”

  “Oh, believe me, I was aware of that.”

  “I am sorry to embarrass you.”

  “Embarrassed?” Her voice was filled with laughter. “I thought it was you who was embarrassed. However, to answer your question, I don’t know. Mathilda says she had her moon’s bleed after her encounter with you, but I have my reservations about her honesty. Her indiscretion with you was more than three weeks prior to her wedding. If she gives birth soon, the baby could well be yours, or it could be an early delivery of twins. I don’t see that there is any point in thinking about it. If you’re worried about my discretion, there’s no need.”

  Ashamed, growing redder and redder by the minute, he did not look at her, and they walked on in silence.

  No need to worry? Oh, but he did. The possibility was slim, but it was there: he might have fathered a devil-kin.

  Only Mathilda knew the truth. He never would.

  39

  The Reluctant Alliance

  “So, you met a friend who works in the castle,” Ardhi said, “and yet you didn’t ask her how we can get in and out safely?” He was sitting cross-legged on Saker’s bed, using Saker’s dagger to whittle a piece of driftwood.

  “She’s hardly a friend.” Saker paced, then sat on the bare boards of the floor. It was none too clean, but the room had no chair. He counted himself lucky it contained a bed.

  “Oh, so you don’t trust her. What did you do to the lady that she would be so ungallant as to betray us?” Ardhi asked, interested.

  Va, how he hated the way Ardhi reworded things, twisted them to mean something else. Aloud, he said, “I trust her. I just don’t want to endanger her.” Or Mathilda.

  “And you didn’t think that perhaps meeting her was sakti Chenderawasi making itself felt again?” Ardhi looked up from his whittling. “Coincidences do happen, but we would be foolish to assume this is one of them.” He fixed Saker with a steady gaze and said, “Tell me the whole story.”

  He opened his mouth to say that he would do no such thing, and then gagged. It hadn’t been a request, but an order. Ardhi watched dispassionately as he struggled against the compulsion. In the end, he managed to say between gritted teeth, “Ardhi, really, there are some things it’s wiser for you not to know. Don’t ask me to do this. If you force me, I will never forgive you. Never.”

  The silence lengthened as Saker fought, biting through his lip until it bled, the blood trickling down his chin. He thought, anguished, Can’t I even keep my secrets? He focused on the pain, biting deeper, concentrating. All thought directed away from Sorrel, away from Mathilda … into the stab of fire deep in his lip. He be
gan to shudder with the effort.

  And just when he knew he had to spill the words he didn’t want to say, Ardhi capitulated. “Ah. You are right, and I am wrong. Just because one has the power does not mean one should use it. Not the whole story, then. Tell me what you will, and no more. It will go no further than this room.”

  He breathed again, his shoulders slumping, and wiped away the blood. “The woman, her name is Sorrel, is a servant to the Regala. I met her in Ardrone. I don’t want to involve her, because it might mean bringing her, or the Regala, into danger.”

  “But you would trust her with your life?”

  After the barest hesitation, he nodded.

  Ardhi leaned towards him, meeting Saker’s gaze with his own burning intensity, his normal good humour banished. “I’m sad you’re caught in the middle of this and I know how unpleasant it is to be forced to do something by Chenderawasi magic. I want a partner, not a slave. I want to talk to this Sorrel woman tomorrow. I’m going to ask her how best we can get to the Regal’s chamber. If we don’t have that information, we may die. If I have to impose the coercion on you to help my cause, I will.”

  “I don’t like being threatened.”

  “And I don’t like bludgeoning you with magic. I want you on my side. I believe it’s your side, too.”

  “Won’t the kris sakti make sure we succeed anyway?” His sarcasm was deliberate. “We can just rely on it to manipulate our success!”

  “The kris has limitations, as well you know. If it were all-powerful, I would have been able to steal the plumes the day we met.” Ardhi threw up his hands, palms outwards, gesturing his own lack of understanding. “Besides, there are things that work against it here, surely you know that. There’s evil in Lowmeer. Don’t you feel the darkness? Can’t you smell it creeping along the streets, lingering in dark corners? You’re a witan; surely you’re aware of bad magic used by evil men. What do you call bad magic in your tongue?”

  “Sorcery. But the only sorcerers I’ve ever heard about were in myths. Legends. Stories. Not real.”

  “People have died in this city of the horror you call the Horned Death. Sorcery.”

  “No. That’s the work of A’Va,” he said. “A’Va is the antithesis of Va. Some call him A’Va the Devil.”

  “A sort of back-to-front god?” Ardhi shook his head, disbelieving. “So funny. Never mind. When do I meet this friend of yours?”

  Sorrel stood among the trees and watched as Saker came up the hill path to the remains of the shrine. He moved the way she remembered, with cat-like litheness. She’d admired it back in Throssel Palace, and it stirred her now. Useless, though. A man who’d hankered after a woman like Mathilda would never be attracted to Sorrel Redwing.

  With a cold determination, she slowed the quickening of her breath and shifted her gaze to his companion. A brown man, stocky, black-haired. He wore the normal Lowmian pantaloons, but without stockings or shoes. His calves were all muscle and sinew, his bare feet trod the rough path with confidence. Fascinated, she studied him. His skin had a deep tan that no amount of warm sun had caused. She’d never met anyone from the Va-forsaken Hemisphere before, but she knew that must have been his origin.

  When she glanced back at Saker, it was to notice that he did not look well. There was tension in his frown, and unhappiness in his eyes. Her heart slipped a little in her chest, leaving a sick feeling behind. Stupid ninnyhead, why should you care, after all he’s said and done? But she did, still, a little. A lot. It wasn’t so easy to walk away from a man you’d once admired. Time, it’ll take time, she told herself. And every time he hurts you, you’ll take another step on the road to recovery. She smiled wryly, liking the idea of her attraction being some sort of disease that he was curing. One thing she knew for certain, she didn’t want to go back there, to that vulnerability. He wasn’t worth it.

  She stood a little straighter, squared her shoulders. As the two men approached still closer, she raised her chin higher. And the dark man smiled at her.

  A skitter of fear ran up her spine. He had some sort of witchery, and he was acknowledging that connection to her. She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to steady herself.

  “I’m sorry to surprise you with someone else,” Saker said without preamble as they walked up to her. “This is Ardhi. He’s a lascar from an island beyond Pashalin.”

  The lascar bowed awkwardly over her hand. “Mistress.”

  “He wants to talk to you,” Saker said. “But first, I have the money for you, and the letter.” He took her by the arm and led her away where Ardhi couldn’t hear. “I didn’t name you in the letter; I thought it safer just to say ‘the bearer’. It will open doors for you in Vavala. I’ve also told Witan Shanny to expect you. She’ll have a wet nurse arranged.”

  Saker,” she whispered, gesturing unobtrusively back at the lascar, “was this wise?”

  “He knows nothing about the baby, don’t worry. He needs your help on another matter. We both do.”

  Ardhi had been looking around the shrine while they talked. “This holy place, yes?” he asked. His accent was an odd mix of Lowmian and something else. “Witchery strong, like tide.”

  “Yes, a shrine,” Saker replied. “Its keeper died.”

  She said, “Saker tells me you want to speak to me, Master Ardhi. How can I help you?”

  His eyes twinkled at her, the corner of his lips twitching up, his mouth parting to show the gleam of his white teeth.

  She couldn’t help smiling back. My, she thought, he’s a very attractive man.

  “Forgive, Ardhi speak your tongue not so good.”

  “Better, I imagine, than I speak yours.”

  He laughed, but the laughter soon died. “I ask important thing. We want three feathers. Feathers belong to my people. With witchery, big witchery. Wrong person use witchery, very bad for everyone. Bad for Lowmian people, for my people.”

  This was about the feathers? “What could I possibly do?”

  “We want steal these feathers,” he said simply.

  She sank down on to the stone seat, aghast. “I’m not going to do that!” she cried.

  “No, no,” he said in alarm. “We steal. Saker and me. But we not know house. Castle.”

  “You’re mad! You can’t rob the Regal! You’d be caught long before you even got to the Keep, let alone entered it. You’d have to cross both the outer and inner bailey to get to the main doors – with every gate guarded.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Saker said drily.

  “Very important,” Ardhi said. “Must do, or many people die in my land. Here too. Lady Sorrel help.”

  Appalled, she gaped at Saker.

  He nodded, acknowledging the truth of Ardhi’s words. “We need a plan of the Regal’s solar, with all the entries and exits and where they lead.”

  “But without a glamour witchery, you’ll never get into the Keep in the first place. It’s not possible. It really isn’t.”

  “Leave that up to us,” Saker said. “Just tell us what entries there are to Regal Vilmar’s solar.”

  She wanted to protest, but his expression was implacable. Reluctantly, she capitulated. “There’s a narrow spiral staircase between the Regal’s bedroom and Lady Mathilda’s, used only by her and the Regal’s servant. Her apartments are on the floor above his, but the door at his end is always locked from his side.”

  “We’re not going to involve either you or Regala Mathilda,” Saker said firmly. “What other ways in are there?”

  “The main staircase, and the servants’ staircase. Both are accessed via doors at either end of a gallery passage, each door guarded by pikemen who belong to the Castle Wardens. The men who wear that silly uniform with the peculiar-shaped hats.”

  “So, we’d have to pass those wardens to get either in or out.”

  “Yes. They may look silly, but I see them training in the bailey every day. Those pikes are not ornamental. And those who patrol the walls above have arquebuses.”

  “I
have a sheet of parchment here. Can you give us a plan that will help us?” He spread the parchment out on the stone seat beside her, and handed her a graphite stick wrapped in twine.

  She took it from him with a sigh and began to sketch, describing what she was drawing to them both. When she’d finished, she looked at Saker, wondering if he would notice the fear for him in her eyes. “I still don’t see how you can get away with this. Even if you got in, there’ll always be someone in the Regal’s apartments, no matter what time of the day.”

  “When’s the best time?”

  She thought about that. “I suppose a night when the Regal entertains the city’s notables. The Regal, the courtiers and most of the servants and wardens would be busy on the ground floor, probably until cockcrow.” She straightened up to meet Saker’s gaze. “Do you have to do this?”

  He blinked, as if surprised she had bothered to ask. “Yes,” he said. “I do.” He folded her sketch and slipped it inside his tunic. “Thank you for your help, and tell – tell the Lady Mathilda…” He paused. “I hope and pray it will go well for her.”

  “Saker…”

  “Yes?”

  She wanted to scream at him, tell him not to be a fool. Risk his life for a feather fan? Then she remembered all that Mathilda had said about those feathers, and about Kesleer and Vilmar. “Never mind,” she said.

  “She’s a brave lady,” Ardhi said in Pashalin as they parted from Sorrel outside the castle gates. “She fears for you.”

  Saker looked at him in undisguised astonishment. “You have maggot-pie brains! She can’t stand me. With good reason, I might add.”

  “Ah, there is none so blind as a man who has made up his mind. Let us talk of our plans. I think I need to know more about your witchery.”

  “I think I need a drink and something to eat. There’s a good pothouse over there.”

  Ardhi brightened. “Cheese and a newly baked loaf. We don’t have either of those things back in Pulauan Chenderawasi. So tasty!”

  “No bread?”