Tyrant’s Blood

by Fiona McIntosh

  “Travel to where?”

  “To the pass. At least that’s where I’m going. I am going home, Regor…sorry, Gavriel. I don’t know what your plans are now.”

  “Stop, Elka. Don’t talk like that.”

  Their horses had been brought from the stables. Her Elleputian—the bigger species of horse the Davarigons bred specifically in the valleys—dwarfed his.

  “I’m being realistic,” she said, forcing herself to sound strong.

  “No, you’re acting like a woman.” She gave him a look that would have made most men step back but Gavriel had seen it before. “Don’t scowl at me. This attitude is so typical.”

  “So typical of whom?”

  “Women.”

  “Oh, you remember them now, do you?” He laughed, only making her angrier. “You know where we live…if you ever want to visit,” she said, trying to disguise her heartbreak.

  But Gavriel grabbed her wrist as she climbed onto her beast. His grip was surprisingly strong. She paused, shocked. He never touched her. “Ride with me,” he said. “I have lots to tell you.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Elka, ride with me,” he urged, his tone matching his grip.

  “To where?”

  “Back.”

  “Home?” she asked, keeping the hope from her voice.

  “Not yours. Not even mine.”

  “Where then?”

  “Where it began for us. The Deloran Forest.”

  She began shaking her head, but Gavriel persisted. “You yourself have told me that Davarigons travel through the empire more easily now.”

  “I’m not worried about that.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “I fear what you’ll discover.”

  He shrugged. “I have to do this. It’s important. No, listen,” he said when she began pulling away again. “I really mean it. It’s not that I’m important. But what I was doing before you found me, before they attacked me, was. It was critical to the security and future of Penraven.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

  “Ride with me. I will tell you everything.”

  Kilt found himself standing before a beautiful building of elegant proportions, currently accommodation for the man known as Vulpan, the emperor’s latest weapon against the Vested.

  “He doesn’t take visitors,” the guard repeated.

  “You’ve already said that. I simply have a question for him. Perhaps someone could take it to him and bring me his answer?”

  Before the guard could respond, the door was flung open and a tall man appeared, his dark eyes matching the color of his trimmed beard. He looked like a magistrate. “What is this? Your voices are disturbing my work.”

  “Are you Master Vulpan?” Kilt asked. The man sounded too impressed by his own importance to be anyone else.

  “I am. And why does a clergyman need to know?”

  “Pastor Jeves, Master Vulpan,” Kilt said by way of introduction. “I believe you might have met my sister recently. I’m trying to find her with some urgency. Please forgive my interruption of your work.”

  “I know of no woman called Jeves.”

  Kilt hated having to even say the words. “She’s married. My apologies. Master and Mrs. Felt. Her name is Lily.”

  “Lily!” The Vested nodded. “Ah, the beautiful Mrs. Felt. Indeed, I do recall her,” he said, licking his lips, making Kilt wince inwardly. “She never mentioned a brother.”

  Kilt shrugged. “I can’t imagine why she would. She hasn’t seen me for many anni.”

  “How did you know she was here, then?”

  “I’ve been tracking her movements. It’s taken me an entire moon to get to this point. I sense I’m close; I must have missed her by only a short time.”

  “So close I can almost still smell her,” Vulpan said.

  Kilt forced himself to look deeply disappointed. “Ah, pity. But,” he said, adding a fresh vigor to his voice, “that means she is within striking distance.”

  “What’s it like to grow up around a Vested?”

  “Er, well, Lily kept her skills very much to herself, Master Vulpan.”

  “Is that so?”

  Kilt had assumed far too much, he realized. This man was no easy target and while the disguise gave him a mea sure of protection, Vulpan was already suspicious. But Kilt knew he couldn’t flee now. “She didn’t care to share it and our parents didn’t encourage it,” he blustered. “Which brings to me to my reason for being here, Master Vulpan.”

  “Why don’t you come inside? Perhaps we can discuss your—”

  “No, no,” Kilt said, waving a hand. “You’re a busy man, Master Vulpan, I can tell that much. I simply wondered if you had any information on Lily’s whereabouts. I have to find her because our mother is gravely ill. I was hoping that they could see each other before she died and—”

  “Do come in, Pastor Jeves. Let us discuss this inside.”

  “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry, sir, if you’ll forgive my ungracious behavior.”

  “Pastor Jeves, I really do insist.” Vulpan smiled, not a skerrick of warmth in his expression.

  Kilt smiled back. “Well, all right, then. Just quickly.” With a sinking heart, he followed the man inside the elegant house.

  As Vulpan closed the door behind him, the cold smile still not failing, he added: “Pastor Jeves, are you aware that you have blood smeared across your face?”

  Twenty-Four

  Kirin and Lily had traveled all day, pausing only to rest the horses, eating four small sugarloaves between them as they journeyed. By the time they had reached a village called Green Herbery, they were exhausted, but Kirin felt a measure of comfort that they had put so much space between themselves and Vulpan.

  He climbed down from his horse and stretched long and leisurely, groaning as he did so. “Lo save us, look over there,” he said, pointing at a structure that looked as though it had collapsed.

  “Fire,” Lily breathed. “Oh, how terrible. It looks as though it was serious. I hope no one was injured.”

  “I guess we’ll know soon enough,” Kirin replied. “Let’s get these horses stabled for the night,” he said, adding, “I’m sorry, Lily, but I’ll need to dip into your purse again if you can spare some money. I have only a little coin left.”

  She made a dismissive sound. “Money is the least of our problems, Kirin. You can have what ever I have. I’m sure it’s enough.”

  “Just like an old married couple, eh?” he said, grinning as he helped her off the animal. As she slid from the horse and twisted in his arms, their gazes met and for just that tiny moment something passed between them. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, though, and he felt self-conscious for letting his gaze linger. “We’ll have to pretend again,” he said, clearing his throat to cover the awkwardness.

  “I know,” she said. “But we’re getting the hang of it now.” Suddenly she stopped, startled. “Oh!” she exclaimed.

  Kirin swung around, following her gaze, and noticed a small line of people following two men, who carried between them what looked to be a body slung in a sheet.

  “Is he dead?” Lily asked.

  Kirin looked at the limp arms swinging over the side of the hammock. Although he couldn’t see the man’s face, he could see blood on his front. “Yes, I’d say so. Let’s find out what’s happened.”

  Lily balked. “No, thank you. You can, if you’re ghoulish enough. I’ll go see if there’s room for us at the inn. Here, you can take the horses. Let me just get my knapsack.”

  Kirin watched her leave. Did she feel something for him? He’d made a promise to himself not to invade Lily’s mind again. But he had to know. He trickled a modest stream of his prying magic and entered Lily’s thoughts effortlessly; his arrival felt familiar, as did the accompanying sense of nausea. The sickness was claiming him faster, he noted; it was adjusting to his restrained use of his powers. He would not have long.

 
He mentally tiptoed around her thoughts, grimacing at the cacophony relating to Kilt Faris but there, right in the middle of the swirling mass of love and recrimination surrounding the outlaw, was the indecision over him. Kirin smiled. He was in her thoughts—and not for concern for his health, or gratitude for his help, not even fear over their situation. Right now he could hear Lily’s angst over her behavior just a moment or two ago. She was confused, unnerved by the way she had reacted to the look they had shared.

  She liked him! Kirin nearly skipped as he walked between the horses. As she walked further from him she was admonishing herself for harboring feelings for him. The bile rose; Kirin spat. He let go of Lily, but he had already outstayed his welcome and he fell to his knees, still holding the reins, and lost what paltry food he’d eaten earlier in the day. “Never again!” he growled. “Not with Lily.” He coughed and spat again.

  “Hey!” a voice yelled and Kirin looked up. “Are you all right?”

  Clearly he wasn’t but Kirin raised a hand and nodded. “I’m fine, fine.”

  But the man was not to be so easily dissuaded. He ran up to Kirin, reaching for the reins. “We saw you stumble and then fall. What happened? Oh,” he said, noticing the mess. “Are you sickening?”

  “It’s nothing serious,” Kirin said. “A slight stomach upset. Bad milk, I think, in the previous village.” He allowed himself to be helped to his feet. “Please don’t trouble yourself.”

  “No trouble,” the man said kindly. “Here, let me help you.” He took one set of reins. “Are you heading for the stables?”

  Kirin nodded.

  “I’ll show you where they are. That way you can get to the inn quicker. Are you alone?”

  “No.” Kirin took a deep breath to steady himself. “My wife has gone ahead to see about a room.”

  “She won’t have any trouble securing one—ours is a quiet village,” the man said, and held out a paw of a hand. “Deren Cannet.”

  “Kirin Felt,” he replied, shaking the proffered hand of friendship. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I couldn’t help noticing your small pro cession just now,” Kirin said, eager to change the subject.

  “Ah, but it’s a sad thing,” Deren said, shaking his head with obvious regret. “That man died twice.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s true,” Deren confirmed, then pointed. “Over here to the stables.”

  Kirin followed, intrigued. “Tell me how a man dies twice.”

  “It’s too curious to credit. That man you saw being carried, he was a stranger like you. He came into our village just a day or so ago. Do you see that barn?” At Kirin’s nod, Deren continued. “That was going up in flames, as you can tell. A lad ran into that burning barn, trying to save his pet cat. And this stranger—we didn’t even know his name at the time—blow me down if he didn’t run straight in after the boy.”

  Kirin’s curiosity deepened. “So what happened?”

  “We’re here,” Deren said. “Hold on, I’ll finish my tale. Let’s just get these horses in. Ho, Neal, are you there?”

  A brawny young man emerged from the shadows. “Deren,” he said, then nodded at Kirin.

  “We need stabling for this pair,” Kirin said.

  The man reached for the reins. “How long?”

  Kirin shrugged. “Overnight. They’ve had a long journey today so they’ll need lots of rest and some careful handling.”

  “I’ll have them fed, watered, and rubbed down and I’ll make sure they get fresh hay,” Neal said, taking both reins from the men. “We’ll take good care of your beasts.” He led them away.

  “Neal’s a good boy,” Deren said, pointing over his shoulder as he led Kirin away. “His dad’s recently been taken by the shaking fever so he’s got to run the stables himself now and take care of his mam.”

  “He looks young.”

  “He is but he’s strong and he knows his horses. Come, I’ll walk you to the inn. There’s only one so you can’t miss it.”

  “Finish the story of the dead man,” Kirin said, keen to head off any curiosity about his and Lily’s story.

  “Well, he ran into the barn, as I said, and he found young Roddy, don’t ask me how. But he brought him out and then they both collapsed, horribly burned, it looked like. I thought they were both dead, to be honest. And then the barn began to collapse and we all rushed away. When I returned, he and the boy were gone.”

  “So he survived?”

  “It seems so. I can’t explain it to you, Master Felt. My eyes saw a badly burned man. Roddy’s mother won’t discuss it. She said another stranger appeared and took charge, taking the injured pair back to her cottage where he healed them. She’s been quite addled ever since, so she’s not making much sense. Roddy disappeared the same day, you see.”

  “He was burned, survived and then he disappeared?” Kirin clarified, not able to believe this tall tale.

  “He wasn’t just burned. He was crisped. His clothes were scorched, his hair was shriveled, his skin had blistered. And still he stole out of the cottage and ran away.”

  “Lo’s light, I can’t credit that. Where to?”

  Deren shrugged. “No one knows. The village went looking for Roddy. His mother was inconsolable. She thought she’d lost him once to the fire and then he was mysteriously and miraculously healed and then he disappeared. She’s having to be sedated. But when we were out looking for Roddy, we came across the stranger.”

  They had arrived at the inn. Lily stepped out of the front door and smiled. “Hello, my love,” she said, sounding ever more practiced at it. She even kissed his cheek as he arrived and took his hand. It felt wonderful and he suddenly felt insanely guilty. “Is something wrong?” she frowned, staring deep into his face.

  “Ah, Mrs. Felt, your husband wasn’t very well a moment ago. But I’ve got him safely here. He should rest.”

  “Kirin?”

  “Don’t fret, my sweet. It was just a headache.”

  “You said it was bad milk,” Deren remarked.

  “That too,” Kirin said quickly. “I’ve been feeling seedy all day, to tell the truth.” He could see that Lily didn’t believe him.

  “Let’s get you upstairs,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Er, well, thanks again, Deren, I hope they find young Roddy.”

  Deren sighed. “Well, I hope we don’t find him dead. The man who saved his life was killed viciously—it seems he was destined to die by misadventure.”

  “Killed?” Kirin frowned. “I hadn’t realized. I thought he’d died from his injuries. That’s terrible.”

  “And very strange. We found him in an isolated part of the forest fringe when we were searching for Roddy. I can’t imagine what he was doing there alone or who might have murdered him. Ah, I’ve remembered his name. Roddy’s mother told us it’s Clovis.”

  “Clovis!” Kirin exclaimed, grabbing at his sleeve. When the man looked instantly alarmed, Kirin let him go. “Forgive me. I…er, well, I know a Clovis. How old would this man be?”

  Deren shrugged. “Search me. Come and have a look for yourself. Your friend hasn’t gone missing, has he?”

  “Show me,” Kirin said, glancing at Lily’s worried face. “Wait here,” he suggested, knowing a corpse was the last thing she wanted to see.

  She nodded, clearly grateful. “I’ll be upstairs.”

  Kirin followed Deren once again, this time grimly. His heart, which had been light such a short time ago, was now heavy with fear.

  Deren led him to the church. “We’ve put him here until we can decide what’s best to do.”

  A small group of people had gathered around the body. A woman was being consoled. Kirin’s hopes flared. She didn’t look like Reuth. This woman was slight of build, definitely shorter and her hair wasn’t as dark as Reuth’s had been. Reuth’s hair by now would surely be peppered with gray. But when the woman began wailing about Roddy, Kirin’s hopes were dashed. She must be the mother
of the missing child.

  Deren shouldered through the small group of people clustered around the body, laid out in front of the small altar. As they parted Kirin caught sight of the dead man’s face and felt something give inside. Dear, unmistakeable Clovis. Older, paunchier, and covered with blood, but definitely his friend and fellow Vested. He choked back the sound of grief that he knew was about to erupt from his throat.

  “Is this him?” Deren asked, seemingly insensitive to Kirin’s despair.

  “Unbelievably, it is,” he groaned, bending down on one knee to take his old friend’s lifeless hand, trying not to look at the wound, focusing on his friend’s kind face. “I haven’t seen him for anni,” he admitted, all the regret of the past decade coming home to roost in his heavy heart. “Who found him?” Tears ran helplessly down his cheeks, not just for Clovis but for himself, for Lily, for their seemingly relentless struggle on behalf of a cause he constantly questioned.

  “I did,” a man replied. “There wasn’t much to see, just the remains of a deserted fire. We didn’t linger. Jory helped me carry him down to the others, who were searching below the ridge we found him on.”

  “He’s been stabbed,” a woman commented, although Kirin did not need that information to understand how Clovis had died.

  Faris wiped at his mouth and nose but knew the blood was dried. Without water, the telltale stain would remain. He had been careless. Vulpan was eyeing the bloodstain like a man famished.

  “What has occurred here, Pastor Jeves? Please, have a seat,” Vulpan said, casting an eye over paperwork on his desk.

  Kilt could see the man was feigning only casual interest in him. The fire in his eyes was sparkling with fascination. “A nosebleed, I’m afraid,” Kilt said, ignoring the offer of a seat but making a polite gesture of decline.

  “Do you get them often?”

  “No.”

  “Really? So what prompted this one, do you imagine?”

  “Truly, Master Vulpan I have no idea,” Kilt replied, allowing himself to sound fractionally testy. “I really must—”