When the others had gone, Tenni went to Tosh and planted a soft but lingering kiss on his lips.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Tosh said.
Tenni kissed him again on the cheek. “Not enjoying, but I think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“No woman starts out to be a whore,” she said. “I hope you think I’m worth more than that.”
Tosh sighed. “Of course. I didn’t mean—”
“I want to do something else, to rise above where I am. What I am. And I want to fight against those who’ve invaded my home. This way I can do both.”
Tosh nodded, kept his face serious. He didn’t want Tenni to think he wasn’t listening, wasn’t taking her seriously. “I know. Honestly, I do. But the thought of you ending up like Freen …”
She moved in quickly, her arms going around behind him to pull him close. Her face against his chest. She heard his heart beat. “I know. But this is the time. Don’t you feel it? History is thrusting us into the path of … something. I don’t know. Really, I’m not sure how to explain, but can’t you sense it? The world is being tossed into chaos, and there are just us select few who see it, who can do something, and if we don’t … well, I’m not sure the gods will forgive us. That we would be offered this chance and then cower. I can’t believe it. I won’t. We must rise to the occasion.”
Tosh struggled to understand. As a soldier you kept your head low and waited for storms to pass. Tenni seemed always to be looking into the distance, seeing something greater, maybe something that wasn’t even real. She seemed to perceive a world that was beyond his ken. Tosh didn’t have the heart to disagree. “I understand. Of course.”
She smiled and pulled him close again. “You don’t really, do you?”
No. Instead he said, “I know I love you.”
“Good enough.” She cupped his groin, and he gasped, eyes wide.
He said, “We don’t have time to—”
“Ten minutes until the next shift comes down,” Tenni said. “Show me what you can do.”
Tenni was more than satisfied with Tosh’s ability to rise to the occasion.
* * *
Two weeks later, Mother called Tosh to her private office. He wasn’t as nervous this time. The Wounded Bird had been quietly going about its business, servicing the rotating battalions of Perranese soldiers. And with Klaar now growing accustomed to the Perranese occupation, most of the local clientele had returned as well. Tosh cooked meals and trained the girls after hours. He made love to Tenni and played with Emmon. It would be a simple thing to think of life as just about perfect.
Except he would then see Freen’s lifeless, glassy eyes and remember the blood on his hands. Tosh reminded himself that the ground underneath your feet could open up at any time without warning. In his entire life, he’d never had so much to lose. That was life, wasn’t it? You spend so much of it trying to find happiness, and then when you get some, you worry every day something is going to take it away.
“Tosh.”
He looked up, saw Mother staring at him. “Sorry. Just thinking. You wanted to see me.”
“Are the girls progressing?” she asked.
He scratched his chin. “I’m not sure how to answer that. Compared to what? I don’t know what the expectation is.”
She refilled the glass on her desk with red wine from a decanter that was mostly empty. For the first time, Tosh noticed Mother’s cheeks were flushed; a few disheveled strands of hair had pulled loose from her tight bun. “Just … give me your best guess. Do you want some wine?”
“Yes, please.”
She gestured impatiently at the chair across from her, and Tosh sat. She filled another glass from the decanter and slid it across her desk toward him. “Can they fight or not?”
He grabbed the glass quickly, sipped slowly, giving himself a moment to think. “A half dozen of them are pretty handy.”
“And the rest?”
“They’ve only just learned how to stand and hold their weapons without hurting themselves,” Tosh told her. “Getting used to the weights of their blades.”
She rubbed her eyes. “When can all of them be ready?”
Tosh didn’t want to ask but did anyway. “Ready for what?”
Mother rubbed her eyes, sighed, refilled her glass and tossed half of it down with one gulp. She reached across the desk to touch something. It was the ring she’d been fiddling with last time. “You know Lord Giffen?”
“Personally?”
“No. I mean you know who he is, yes?”
Tosh nodded. Of course. If it wasn’t for Lord Giffen, Klaar would be under direct control of the Perranese. According to hushed tavern gossip, Giffen was doing everything possible to keep the occupying regime from being too heavy-handed with the local populace. The occupation would have been much worse if not for Giffen.
“I’ve heard things, Tosh. I have eyes and ears everywhere. You might not think a woman who runs a brothel would have a far reach, but I do. Someone like me has friends in both high places and low. Important men have counted on my discretion for years.”
Tosh didn’t know how to respond to this, so he sipped wine.
“We’ll need to wait until the time is right.” Mother closed her fist tightly over the ring. “If we handle it poorly it will make the situation worse instead of better. So there’s time. Keep training the girls. They’ll be ready by the time we do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Tosh said. “But do what?”
“Don’t you know?” she said. “We’re going to kill Lord Giffen, of course.”
And that’s when the ground opened up beneath Tosh’s feet.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The harsh winter wind rattled the shutters, and the dwindling fire in the hearth flickered. Giffen curled into a ball beneath the double layer of furs. He almost regretted telling the servants not to disturb him during the night. Normally they would slip in during the wee hours to stoke the fire and then silently slip out again.
But Giffen had company and didn’t want to be disturbed. He’d made it clear to the servants. Stay away. Giffen is busy with a lady.
Well, perhaps lady was being generous, but never mind. He felt her shift under the furs next to him, and a smile spread across his face. He pictured her, curvaceous and dark-haired, eyes as blue as ice. Full lips and high cheekbones. Fingernails and toenails painted a bright red. Giffen suspected she spent the bulk of her day grooming herself just to be ready for him, which was just fine with Giffen.
He’d spent most of his life serving others; let the peasants fall over themselves pleasing him for a change. It’s what he’d always wanted. No more groveling and simpering for Lord Giffen. The Klaarian rabble could damn well dance to his tune from now on. All of his scheming had finally paid off. From now on, Giffen would have exactly what he wanted and woe unto anyone who stood in his way.
Giffen turned over and spooned with the whore. What was her name again? Ah, yes. Sarin. That squalid little place over in Backgate had sent her as some sort of tribute. He inferred some sort of arrangement. The brothel would keep him happy in bed, and in return, Giffen would not find a reason to close the place down. A fine arrangement. If Sarin continued to approach her duties with the same level of enthusiasm as she had the night before, Giffen didn’t foresee a problem.
He cupped one of her ample breasts, and she sighed contentment, squirming back against him. He pinched a thick nipple between thumb and forefinger. Yes, he was plenty warm enough without the fire. He was satisfied with just about everything. Life was good. Except …
It still rankled him to be at the beck and call of the Perranese, specifically General Chen, but the invaders were a necessary evil. Giffen reminded himself that Klaar was merely a stepping stone to the conquest of Helva itself. Soon the foreigners would move on to bigger and better things, and they would reward Giffen by leaving him to his own devices as lord of Klaar. A carefully orchestrated deceit was making it appear th
at Giffen was Klaar’s savior. He’d always despised the accident of birth that made him a commoner. Yes, he’d been a man of some power in service of the duke. But that wasn’t good enough—an oversight that was currently being corrected.
And then Giffen would be the new duke with all the privileges that entailed.
Sarin ground her soft backside against Giffen’s growing erection.
He kissed her ear, and she purred. Giffen hadn’t planned a session of pre-breakfast copulation, but if Sarin were eager, then who was Giffen to refuse? He positioned himself to enter her. She gasped, twisting to kiss him, her mouth wet and inviting.
A knock at his chamber door.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Go away!” Giffen barked. He pawed at Sarin’s tits, trying to maintain his erection.
The door cracked open, and a wide-eyed, nervous servant stuck his head around it. It was the scrawny lad who had been assigned as his valet. “Beg pardon, your lordship, but General Chen wants to see you. Uh … immediately.”
Giffen mumbled a curse. The only man who could take him away from a warm bed and a soft woman was the Perranese general. He pulled the furs over his head and groaned.
The valet cleared his throat. “Sir?”
“What?”
“Shall I tell General Chen you’re on your way?”
“Tell him I’m busy plowing this comely whore up her luxurious backside.”
The valet blinked. “Really?”
“Of course not, idiot!” Giffen threw back the furs and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Now fetch my robes before I have you skinned.”
* * *
Chen had begun taking his meals in the small dining room just off the castle kitchens. Heating the formal dining hall this far into winter consumed too much fuel. So Chen sat at a small table only big enough for a few people, sipping tea and picking from a plate of steamed cabbage and fish. The soft layer around his middle had begun to diminish after he’d started eschewing the butter and potatoes.
His plan to move the bulk of the garrison outside the city had been successful so far. There had been grumbling at first—a sign in and of itself that the change had been necessary—but once full discipline had been reinstated, the men’s fighting edge had again been honed razor sharp. He kept them rotating. A battalion inside the city walls to keep the peace. Another battalion at Harran’s Bay to rebuild the deep water docks. A company to erect a rough palisade around the barracks. Another company to cut timber for the both the dock and palisade projects.
Chen had assigned a third company to scour the outer and lower villages for livestock, but these settlements had been picked clean weeks ago, and with snow clogging most of the passes, it had been more efficient to reduce the force to a mounted detail to patrol for enemy spies.
So far, the bulk of Helva remained blissfully unaware of the Perranese presence on its soil—a fact that seemed about to change if Chen understood the situation correctly.
He refilled his teacup from a delicate porcelain pot just as Giffen entered the room.
“You wanted to see me, General Chen?” Giffen moved to the room’s small fireplace, warmed his hands.
“Yes.” Chen gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit if you like.”
Giffen hesitated only a moment as if reluctant to leave the fire, then sat. Chen filled Giffen’s cup from the teapot.
Giffen nodded his head. “Thank you.”
“You’ll be happy to know the men are doing well in the barracks,” Chen said. “Two iron stoves in each barracks suffice. What are they called again?”
“Pot-belly stoves.”
“Yes, exactly.” Obviously named for men who’d stuffed themselves with buttered potatoes. “It is still very cold, but the men are hearty.”
Giffen sipped his tea and shrugged. “It hasn’t gotten really cold. Not yet. The big blizzards are still to come.”
Chen tried to cover his surprise by jamming a wad of cabbage into his mouth. He chewed, thinking. He swallowed, then said, “We will reinforce the barracks’ insulation and lay in triple the fuel for the stoves, both peat and wood.” He hated that he might be wrong about moving the men outside the city. Irrational. Giffen was from Klaar. He’d know the local weather better than Chen. It would be foolish not to listen even if he did consider himself the man’s better. “Still. We will make preparations to move the men back inside the city walls if need be.”
Chen thought he saw Giffen hide a smug smile behind his teacup and had to stifle a sudden swell of fury. Letting an inferior goad you was a sign of weakness. Chen wouldn’t allow that. He mastered himself. Pride must be eliminated from the equation. Only problems and their solutions mattered.
“A wise precaution, General,” Giffen said.
And yet Chen could not resist an opportunity to put a dent in Giffen’s smug facade. “Captain Tchi sent a rider. He arrived in the wee hours this morning with the news that he and his men lost Rina Veraiin in the forest south of Kern.” He cut a chunk of fish, brought it up to his mouth. “She could be almost anywhere by now.”
Giffen frowned. “This is bad news.”
Chen chewed the fish, swallowed. “Yes.”
“Well, what do you plan to do about it?”
Chen speared another chunk of fish with his fork, shrugged with deliberate nonchalance. Let Giffen squirm. “What is there to do?”
Giffen fidgeted in his chair. “If your presence here is known, then the king could send troops before your Emperor sends his fleet.”
Chen ate a bite of cabbage and nodded.
“The point was to hold Klaar secretly until the spring thaw,” Giffen said.
“Why are you telling me the plan?” Chen said calmly. “I know the plan. It’s my plan.”
“If the Veraiin brat has raised the alarm, the king’s army could be on its way now.”
Chen sipped tea, wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Yes.”
“Forgive me, general, but you do not seem concerned.”
“What should my concern look like to you, Giffen? Shall I wave my arms in the air and run around in circles? Calm yourself. We always knew it was a possibility word would leak. Frankly, I’m surprised we’ve kept ourselves hidden this long. Our best hope is that the heavy snows come and block the passes. Then the king could send every soldier in Helva and it wouldn’t matter. One way or another, war must wait until spring.”
Giffen pushed his teacup away, sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “Wait, this isn’t right.”
“What isn’t?”
“You said they lost her south of Kern? Did she go into Kern itself?”
“Yes,” Chen said. “Tchi and his men were forced to wait outside of town to avoid being discovered. They’ve killed more than a dozen of the locals who spotted them and hid the bodies. But they picked up her trail again to the south of the town.”
“Have any of your patrols apprehended scouts on the border?” Giffen asked.
“No.”
Giffen snapped his fingers. “The brat hasn’t told anyone. They don’t know.”
“How do you arrive at this conclusion?”
“Arlus was reasonably close with the Baron of Kern,” Giffen said. “Rina could have sought asylum there easily. Kern would have sent scouts to verify her story.”
“You’re guessing,” Chen said.
“But they’re good guesses, General. Kern would have found the situation irresistible. He’s been angling to marry off one of his idiot sons to Rina, and if he can wrangle to make her his ward with Arlus dead then he can add Klaar’s lands to his own.” He shook his head again but with confidence this time. “No, no, no. We are missing a piece of the puzzle. Rina Veraiin had ample opportunity to raise the alarm but didn’t. The passes to Klaar are quiet when they should be alive with scouts in Kern livery.”
Chen considered. As with the weather, Giffen would have a better grip of regional politics than Chen would. “Educated guesses. But still gue
sses.”
Giffen gestured acquiescence. “Naturally I can’t know for certain, sitting here sipping tea. What we really need are spies.”
“Ah.” Chen smiled. “Funny you should mention spies.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The wind lashed Harran’s Bay, and the commander in charge of rebuilding the docks pulled his men back to the shelters again. This was madness. Two men had drowned already and a third had perished from exposure. Progress on the new docks was costly. Soon even General Chen would have to admit the weather was too bitter to work.
The commander watched the longboats row toward shore. The ship—the last ship to come from Perran until spring—had been spotted on the horizon by rooftop watchmen earlier that morning. They’d expected the ship for a week, and when it had finally arrived, the commander had dispatched a rider to alert Chen.
The commander feared briefly the foamy waves would swamp the longboats. The sea was rough, deadly, but they both beached themselves at last on the small patch of shore between the rocks. Sailors began to unload the first batch of cargo, although it was not the cargo that was important.
Three men—two from the first boat and one from the second—tromped toward him. These men were why the commander waited out in the cold instead of going into one of the shelters to warm himself. He’d been ordered to offer them every respect and service.
The first two hunched against the cold, leaning into the wind as they walked. They wore thick layers of heavy furs with the hems of bright silk robes hanging below. It wouldn’t matter how they dressed or how many more furs they piled on, the commander knew. All of the Perranese had the same reaction at first. This desolate place seemed impossibly frozen. They’d been told time and time again to ready themselves for the hostile climate, but nothing really could have prepared them. The commander’s bones had not stopped aching since he’d arrived.
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