When a breathless rider had arrived to say the Perranese garrison at Klaar had fallen, Tchi had realized his efforts had been for nothing. The invasion had failed, and the Perranese had lost their foothold in Helva. Tchi and his men couldn’t make it back to Harran’s Bay to escape with the rest of the army.
With nowhere else to go, they’d stayed put, eventually making contact with their agents who were still at large in Klaar.
Tchi watched the wizards enter the building. A moment later, one of his junior officers ushered them into the room. The wizards nodded their heads, not quite a bow but an adequate show of respect.
“Your spell was successful?” Tchi asked.
“The summoning was flawless,” Jariko said. “And the demon was delivered to your agents in Klaar without incident.”
Tchi narrowed his eyes. “But?”
The two wizards looked at each other, and finally Jariko said, “The stalker demon was destroyed. Before it could kill its prey.”
Tchi frowned. “I see.”
Prullap cleared his throat. “I’ve been discussing it with Jariko, and he agrees.” Prullap shot the older wizard a look.
Jariko nodded.
“Jariko agrees,” Prullap continued, “that it’s again time to broach the subject of withdrawing from the field.”
“That’s what you think?” Tchi said.
“Yes.”
“And Jariko agrees?”
“Yes.”
“And by withdrawing from the field,” Tchi said, “I take it you mean running away?”
“Well . . . I mean, I’m not sure putting it that way . . .” Prullap shuffled his feet, looked at his colleague for help.
“If we were engaged in battle, that might be the way to phrase it,” Jariko offered. “But do we serve any purpose languishing here? Our forces in Klaar have been defeated, and the remainder have fled back to the Empire.”
“And where would we go?”
“Home,” said Prullap. “We’re no longer wintered in. Most of the roads are clear.”
“We have a fighting force sufficient to make our way to the coast and capture a ship,” Jariko said. “If we are fast and stealthy, it can be done. The longer we remain here, the better the chances Helva eventually galvanizes a force to root us out. Nobody came for us in the thick of winter, not in this remote location. But with the thaw comes risk. It’s only a matter of time.”
Tchi paced, considering. It was tempting. Tchi and his men had been abandoned without orders for such a contingency. That left matters to his judgment as an imperial officer.
The thought of returning back to the Empire with nothing to show for his efforts rubbed him the wrong way.
“We still have agents in Klaar who need our support,” Tchi said. “Our armies will return. In a week? A year? We don’t know, but we must stand ready. We’re here behind enemy lines with brave, battle-hardened men and two capable wizards. I feel confident we can figure out a way to contribute to the war effort. In short, gentlemen, we aren’t going anywhere.”
The two wizards wilted. Their disappointment was so palpable, Tchi almost threw back his head and laughed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed, eyes darting around the room.
Rina looked down at herself. Both gloves were back on. Someone had dressed her in a warm flannel nightgown and had put her in bed, covered her with furs. Embers glowed orange in the fireplace.
She remembered the attack, the horrible smoke creature, and her hand went to her neck. She imagined she could still feel its razor claws piercing her flesh, but the skin was smooth. No wound. The healing rune had done its work. When the wizard Weylan had inked the Prime onto Rina’s back, he’d included the extra rune as an experiment. Now whenever she was injured or wounded, the rune healed her. The magic had saved her on more than one occasion.
Rina sensed another presence in the room, turned her head abruptly to look at the woman in the corner. Stasha Benadicta sat quietly, working needlepoint by the low light of an oil lamp.
“About six hours,” Stasha said, anticipating Rina’s question.
“You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Yes.”
No wonder they called the woman Mother.
“There are two of Tosh’s women in the anteroom and two more in the hall,” Stasha said. “There have been two attempts on your life. Everyone’s braced for a third.”
“What happened?”
“Arbert and Lilly are dead. I’m sorry,” Stasha said. “Their bodies were taken out and burned.”
Rina winced. “Was that necessary?”
“I wouldn’t know. They told me the bodies had been corrupted in some way. They didn’t want to risk it.”
“What happened to me?”
“They said you defeated the demon,” Stasha said. “But it knocked you out.”
“Demon?”
Stasha shrugged. “That’s what they started calling it.”
“I need some water.”
Stasha stood, crossed the room, and took a pitcher from the vanity and filled a goblet. She brought it to Rina.
“Thank you.”
The inside of Rina’s mouth tasted awful, and she drank deeply, washing away the flavor of bitter ash. The skeletal tattoo on her palm was meant to leach away a person’s spirit to replenish her own. When she’d drained the demon of its spirit, she felt as if she were filling herself with something vile. She didn’t know what it was, but it had overwhelmed her.
Stasha returned to her seat, quietly working her needlepoint.
Rina sat still for a moment, thinking. The silence stretched.
Finally, Rina said, “I need help.”
Stasha looked up. “How do you mean?”
“I don’t know how to run this castle, let alone a duchy,” Rina said. “My father knew how, but he still had advisors. Even Giffen was useful before he turned traitor. I need people to help me. An inner circle.”
Stasha turned back to her needlepoint, steadily working the neat pattern a little at a time. A few moments later she said, “I can come up with a list of names, if you like.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m keen to help any way I can, milady.”
They lapsed again into silence.
“I don’t want to go back to sleep. I want tea, but I don’t have a maid anymore.”
“I can get it,” Stasha said.
“No,” Rina told her. “You’re the chamberlain. Chamberlains don’t fetch tea.”
“None of the girls in the castle volunteered to be your maid, milady. Not after what happened to Lilly. We can simply appoint one of them.”
“No. Thank you.”
I don’t want anyone else dying for me. Or because of me. Or simply because they were near me.
It had started with her bodyguard, Kork. The man must have known how severely wounded he was, vital organs punctured, losing blood. Instead of stopping to bind himself and rest, he’d pressed on through the driving snow, leading her to the wizard Weylan as was her father’s last request.
Who would be next? Brasley? Stasha? Tosh?
Alem?
“Send someone for the tea,” Rina said. “I don’t want anyone serving me if they’re afraid. I don’t need a maid. I can dress myself. It’s not like it’s difficult.”
Stasha stood. “As you wish.”
“And food. Stasha?”
“Milady?”
“Can you have that list of names by the time I’m finished with breakfast?”
“Absolutely,” Stasha said.
“Good.” Rina threw back the furs, swung her legs over the side of the bed. “It’s time to get to work.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tosh felt slightly out of place.
No. That wasn’t quite true. Tosh felt very out of place.
The formal meeting hall had high vaulted ceilings and wide windows to let in the light. Rich tapestries hung on the walls. It was the sort of hall that was mea
nt to convey the message this is an important place where important people are doing important things.
Tosh sat at a wide, circular table with six other people, and as far as he could tell, they were all more important than he was. The bishop of Klaar was Dumo’s representative for the entire duchy. Mother—he was still having trouble thinking of her as Stasha Benadicta—was his boss and a formidable woman even before Rina had made her chamberlain. The general of Klaar’s army was a man named Kerrig. He’d been a captain before and was one of the few officers to survive the Perranese occupation. Tosh was glad he hadn’t served directly under the man, since that could have made the current situation a bit awkward. Yes, Tosh was in charge of the castle guard, but he didn’t really feel like an officer. Most officers he’d known had been pretty snooty.
The man sitting directly to Tosh’s right was Borris Dremen, head of the merchants’ guild and likely the most economically powerful man in the city. On Tosh’s left sat Baroness Caville. If Tosh understood correctly, the Caville family had been close with the late Duke Veraiin. Baron Caville had been killed the day Klaar had fallen, and now the baroness ran the holdings.
Brasley Hammish, the final person at the table, offered Tosh a reassuring nod.
I’m glad to see at least one friendly face.
The empty chair was, of course, for the duchess.
A servant made the rounds with hot tea, and just when everyone’s cup had been filled, Rina Veraiin came through the door.
She swept in, long blue gown trailing behind her, chin up, eyes bright. The gown was long-sleeved with a high collar, a style she’d taken to wearing to cover her tattoos. Obviously, there was no practical way to cover the tattoos around her eyes. They gave her a tribal look, which contrasted strangely with the elegant gown.
She looks regal and exotic, Tosh thought. I wonder if she feels it or if she’s just putting on a brave face.
Everyone around the table stood and nodded respect. Rina gestured for them to please be seated. She sat too, back straight, hands on the table in front of her. She met the gaze of each person at the table before beginning.
“Thank you for coming,” Rina said. “Some of you are here at my request. Others at the suggestion of our new chamberlain.”
She paused momentarily to exchange courteous nods with Stasha.
“And while you all have some basic idea of why I’ve asked you to attend this unofficial meeting,” Rina continued, “I’d prefer you hear it all together directly from me, so there will be no doubt what I’m asking.”
Rina gave them a moment to jump in with a comment or question. When nobody did, she went on.
“You all know what happened,” she said. “When I came back to Klaar, I waded neck deep in blood to drive out the Perranese. I fought their ink mage and went so far down a hole toward death that I almost didn’t make it back. I now look back on those events and think of them as the easy part.”
Those assembled shifted in their seats and offered weak smiles, not sure if they were meant to react to some joke.
“Yes, I am duchess of Klaar,” Rina said. “And I intend to always do what is best for my people. Most of you knew my father. I won’t insult your intelligence by trying to convince you that I can step in and rule as well as he did. I mean, it’s laughable. But what I can promise you is that I’ll never stop trying to do my best. I will never give up. I’ll never stop fighting for Klaar.”
Tosh glanced at the faces around the table. None seemed especially impressed by Rina’s words. On the other hand, they didn’t seem disapproving either. They all listened intently.
“Here is my last promise to you. I’m not so vain I can’t recognize my own shortcomings,” Rina said. “That’s why you’re all here. I want your help. My father had advisors, and that’s what I’m hoping you will be to me. And we’re all obviously aware that his closest advisor, Giffen, betrayed him. So the fact that you’re here at this table right now is not only a sign that I think you can contribute to our duchy and make it a better place but also my declaration that I find you all to be trustworthy. I hope I can earn an equal trust from you.”
Tosh surveyed the faces again. Most seemed to be nodding approval, although the bishop remained stone faced. Still, it was a pretty decent speech. Sounded natural, not overly rehearsed. She probably scored a few points for sincerity.
Baroness Emra Caville was the first to break the silence. She was gray and wrinkled, and her skin hung loosely from the weight she’d lost during the occupation, but her eyes gleamed alert and intense. “I can only speak for myself, Duchess Veraiin, but my husband was a devout supporter of your father. It would be an honor for me to act in my husband’s stead on your behalf.” She chuckled lightly. “Although what service this old woman might offer, I’m sure I don’t know.”
Rina smiled warmly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Emra. You still have cousins in Merridan, yes?”
The baroness nodded. “We correspond frequently.”
“Then, my dear baroness, you are essential.”
“Obviously, I’m with you one hundred percent,” General Kerrig said. “Most of my men and I would still be in chains if you hadn’t come back and run those savages back into the sea. But our forces are badly undermanned and poorly supplied. If this is to be your cabal of advisors, then now would seem an opportune moment to raise these issues.”
“I might be able to help with that.”
All eyes turned to Boris Dremen, head of the merchants’ guild. He was one of the smallest men Tosh had ever seen, without actually being a dwarf. The man was bony to the point of seeming frail, fingers slender and delicate. Even his pale hair was thin.
“By all means,” Rina encouraged.
“The increased traffic on the Small Road has invited a surprising influx of trade through Back Gate,” Dremen said. “Klaar’s economy is reasonably stable at the moment. But more to General Kerrig’s point, I think we need to be shrewd about resupplying his army. Cash is in short supply, so I would encourage bartering whenever possible.”
Rina leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “Example?”
“The best blacksmiths in Helva are in Sherrik,” Dremen said. “The best swords and spears. But the timber around Sherrik is inferior, and building with stone is expensive. I think some sort of arrangement could be reached that would benefit both parties without biting into Klaar’s cash flow.”
“Sherrik is a long way south,” Brasley said. “Our city could be sacked five times by the time we haul lumber down there and returned with fresh steel.”
Dremen offered Brasley a tight smile. “An astute observation, Baron Hammish. Fortunately, the main trade routes north run up the coast to Kern. The baron keeps a warehouse for Sherrik’s trade goods for which the baron earns a modest fee. I’m sure he’d be happy to set up a lumberyard with some similar arrangement. For a nominal fee, I’m more than happy to make all of the contacts and supervise the arrangements.”
It was Rina’s turn to smile tolerantly. “I hope there hasn’t been a misunderstanding, Master Dremen. I’ve called you all here hoping to appeal to your sense of patriotism as a citizen of Klaar. I can’t offer special titles or privileges or compensation to anyone. Perhaps that might change in the future, but at the moment we’re just trying to get back on our feet. I’m sorry if I led anyone to believe any differently.”
Dremen looked abashed. “I’m the one who should apologize, your grace. Old habits of a lifelong businessman. Naturally, I will do anything in my power for the betterment of Klaar. May I venture a final bit of advice?”
“Of course,” Rina said.
“It’s my understanding you plan to open the silver mines again.”
“Yes. If we can do it safely. There’s some concern about snow devils that high up in the mountains.”
“I think we should open it up to toughnecks,” Dremen suggested.
Rina blinked. “Open it up to who?”
“The unaffiliated prospectors and miners,” Dremen ex
plained. “They work a claim and pay the landowner a tithe. The rest they keep for themselves. When a claim is played out, they move along.”
“I’m afraid I don’t see the advantage,” Rina said.
“First, we can’t be sure we’ll find a new vein after we open the mine,” Dremen said. “If we let toughnecks work the mine, it reduces Klaar’s risk. Very little investment on our part. It’s the toughnecks’ gamble. If they do well, then word spreads and more come, and they all pay a tithe. But there’s a further benefit, I think. Generally speaking, Klaar is isolated. Toughnecks would come from all over. They’d bring news. They’d bring outside money to spend with local merchants on food and supplies.”
Rina nodded. “I like the sound of what you’re saying. We’ll definitely be talking more about this. Thank you, Master Dremen.”
Dremen nodded, seeming pleased with himself.
Rina turned to the bishop.
Bishop Feridixx Hark was a broad-shouldered man with a florid complexion. In his early fifties, bulky without quite being fat, he looked like he’d be more comfortable in full plate armor rather than the gold-trimmed white robes of Dumo. White was fast overtaking the red in his hair.
“Bishop Hark, there are other temples in Klaar, but the majority worship Dumo. I’m hoping you can tell us the mood of the people,” Rina said.
“Indeed, we are fortunate to live in an epoch of Dumo’s ascendance, and I’m happy to report what I’ve observed, your grace,” Hark said. “As you know, I am not native to Klaar. Ten years ago, the mother temple sent me to take over when the old bishop passed away. I’ve grown fond of the people in that time. They’re a hearty and determined lot. Many still grieve loved ones who died at the hands of the Perranese, but on the whole I sense a gritty optimism.” The bishop paused, looked slightly uncomfortable. “There’s something else I’ve noticed about the people of Klaar, something that concerns what I need to say next.”
Rina raised an eyebrow. “You’re hesitating. I have a feeling I might not like this.”
“Yes, I’m worried about that too,” the bishop said. “But you opened this meeting with an emphasis on trust, so I’m hoping I can be honest.”
The Tattooed Duchess (A Fire Beneath the Skin Book 2) Page 6