‘I’ve been following your exploits in the east with some interest you know. I can’t say I expected you to return as a brevet captain though, but from the reports of your conduct it is not entirely surprising. The siege of Fort Faraway, as the people have taken to calling it, was quite the talk of the town for several weeks after the reports of it reached us. So too was the young swordsman who defended it single handedly!’ He let out one of his barking, incredulous laughs. ‘I wouldn’t let it go to your head though, if I were you!’
‘I’ll try to take it with a pinch of salt, sir,’ Soren replied, a little surprised by what he had been told.
‘This is for you. There wasn’t time to give it to you before you left,’ said Dornish. He took a rectangular wooden box from a drawer in the desk and slid it across the top to Soren. He picked it up and opened it. Inside was a tightly rolled piece of parchment bound with a piece of dark blue ribbon and sealed with dark blue wax bearing the crests of the Academy and the Duchy.
‘Congratulations, Banneret Soren. Always remember that your learning never ends, this only signifies the beginning of your journey to becoming a master swordsman. You may take that certificate to the Hall of Bannerets and have your own banner emblazoned. Now, I think you have an overdue appointment with a bath. We can talk more at mess. It’s good to have you back safely, lad,’ said Dornish.
It was not seemly for a gentleman to run through the streets, even less so for a banneret, so he forced himself to walk, albeit at a brisk pace. The thought made him smile. Although he had been graduated early and had been using the title during his time in the east, as was his right, there was something uplifting about having the parchment in his possession, of it all being official. Banneret Soren. Perhaps some day he would be able to add a ‘dal something’ to the end of it. It reminded him of the block of royal grade Telastrian steel wrapped in grease-cloth at the bottom of his trunk. His ill-gotten gains would not tarnish it by paying for its smithing into a sword. They would be dropped into the poor box at a church as soon as he had the opportunity. He would have to find the money elsewhere. There was also the matter of having his banner made. He would have to start thinking of elements he would like to be incorporated into the design. Perhaps Alessandra would have some suggestions.
Despite not taking very long, it felt as though it had taken an eternity to reach the Sail and Sword. What he found there caused his jaw to drop. There was a gap on the street frontage like a missing tooth. Where once the Sail and Sword had stood, there was now nothing more than a charred remain. A low fence had been erected in front of it, so it was clear that it had burned down some time before. He hopped over the fence and wandered around in the ash. From recent habit he looked for charred bone fragments, but saw none. Perhaps no one had died in this fire. It almost seemed too much to hope for.
What had happened to Alessandra?
He left and turned back toward Highgarden, heading to Amero’s town house. He hoped that he would be there and expected that he would be. Amero was not known for spending much time out of the city at his country estates
He was recognised by the servant who led him into the palatial house and to the drawing room. Despite the wealth of his neighbours, Amero’s house was by far the most impressive on that street. He was now head of one of the oldest and wealthiest families of the Duchy. Many of his ancestors, and most recently his grandfather, had been elected as Dukes of Ostenheim. His wealth was said to be enormous and that was confirmed by his town house. There was one question about him that had never truly been answered. With such wealth why would he bother with duelling in the arena? It certainly was not the financial reward that most were drawn to it for that attracted him. The joy of perfecting his art said some; to further inflate his ego said others, usually those who disliked him. Whatever the reason, it had made him hugely popular with the ordinary people of the city.
Soren waited for some time before Amero breezed into the room with his usual alacrity. He was finely dressed as always, but not entirely in the peacock-ish fashion of many young aristocrats, particularly those who had not bothered with an Academy education, foregoing its hardships for an indolent lifestyle of idleness and luxury. His entire dress and poise suggested that he was as ready for a fight as he was a social engagement.
‘Banneret Soren! Well, the hero returns from the East. I’m sure you will be delighted to know that I have heard your name being mentioned more than once at court. It seems that my faith in your potential has proved well placed!’
‘Thank you, my Lord. I wanted to call on you promptly after returning. I am glad to see you well. I wondered though, if you might recall the girl I asked you to take the message to before I travelled east?’ said Soren.
‘The girl?’ Amero asked, as he sat down. ‘Oh yes, the girl. Emeric took her the message as requested. That’s the last I heard of it though. Why?’
‘I’m looking for her. I haven’t been able to find her yet. The Sail and Sword was burned to the ground,’ said Soren.
‘Burned to the ground? I hadn’t heard, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. Anyhow, don’t you think you were setting your sights a little low there? You’re a banneret now and have already won yourself a little fame in the east. There are wealthy ladies in society who you would have eating out of your hand. You have advanced in the world, and wealth will follow, but allying yourself with the right families is important. A well considered marriage, perhaps to the daughter of a grand burgess or a minor aristocrat, would do your career the world of good. If you wish to take your place in my retinue, better things will be expected of you.’
‘Perhaps, my Lord. Right now I just want to find out what has happened to her,’ said Soren.
He returned to the Academy, deciding to eat while he tried to work out what his next step in finding Alessandra would be. He was walking across the quad when a high-pitched voice rang out through the air.
‘Look, look! It’s the hero of Fort Faraway!’ A chorus of decidedly lower pitched laughing followed it.
Even in falsetto, Soren recognised the voice as Ranph’s. Soren awkwardly exchanged pleasantries with Ranph and the others with him for a few minutes, all the while hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. He deflected the questions that would require lengthy answers before finally asking for a word alone with Ranph.
He explained quickly how he had gone looking for Alessandra and how that had resulted. He asked Ranph to find out what he could. Ranph agreed without hesitation, but it took a moment of uncomfortable silence before he realised that Soren wanted him to do it right away. He hurried away when he did, leaving Soren to fret, not really knowing how to make the time pass until Ranph returned.
He spent the time finding the small room that would be his for the year, which was situated in the front building of the Academy. It overlooked the Old Square, and Soren sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window for any sign of Ranph returning. The day faded into evening, and evening quickly into night. Mage lamps created orange tinged pools of light around the square, giving it a warm, welcoming feeling. He began to wonder what could be keeping Ranph so long. Finally fatigue got the better of him and he collapsed back on the bed into a deep sleep.
He awoke to the sound of the door to his room opening. Ranph was standing at the end of his bed by the time he managed to open his eyes. It was morning and the room was bright.
‘Did you find her?’ he asked groggily, squinting at Ranph’s silhouette.
‘After a fashion. Get washed up and I will meet you at the dining hall,’ Ranph replied.
They sat at the top table in the dining hall, which was reserved for bannerets, usually members of the Collegium but occasionally also a visiting banneret from another city-state, but the privilege of being there was lost on Soren. All he wanted, all he could think about was what Ranph had to tell him.
‘I know where she is,’ Ranph said solemnly.
Soren’s heart leapt. ‘Where? Tell me! I’ll go at once.’ He blurted the sentence
out, only then noticing the ominous tone in Ranph’s voice. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she’s fine. Look, Soren, she’s a tavern girl. I know what your background is, but please believe that I am saying this to you as your friend. You’re a banneret now. If you want to get serious about a girl, there are plenty of nobles that would be delighted to marry a daughter off to a famous young banneret. Hells, I’d even marry you to my own sister, if she wasn’t such a harridan. I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy!’ He chuckled, but it sounded forced. ‘My point is though, if you want to get ahead in society, it’s the only option. I mean, if you wanted to take her as your mistress, that would be fine, but I know you and I know that’s not what you want. You need to forget about her Soren, for your own sake.’
Soren could feel his anger rising. The same anger he had felt when he thought of the Androvs being slaughtered and their daughters being taken as slaves. He pushed it away as quickly as it entered his mind; it had use in battle, but had no place here, among friends. Ranph was only trying to help. Nonetheless, when Soren spoke his voice was cold and flat.
‘Just tell me where she is,’ he said.
Ranph frowned and let out a sigh.
‘Fine. If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’ll take you,’ he said.
C h a p t e r 3 8
AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
Ranph led Soren out of the Academy and down the hill into Oldtown, not to Docks or Crossways as he had expected. Oldtown was a fashionable area and had been for many years, where the wealthy younger members of society would take apartments. It was the original site of the city before it had grown to its current size and it was an expensive area to live, second only to Highgarden, where many of Oldtown’s residents would ultimately live when they settled down.
They walked in silence until they reached a well-maintained building with an ornate door.
‘How can she afford to live here?’ Soren asked, his surprise overshadowing any inquiring thoughts.
‘She’s called Bevrielle now,’ Ranph said. He gave out the information with great reluctance.
Soren’s heart dropped. It had been racing ever since Ranph had told him that he knew where she was, but now it slowed. A wave of nausea swept over him and took a firm hold of his gut. The only women that changed their name were whores.
‘Do you still want to go in?’ Ranph asked.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ Soren asked, choking down anger.
‘You wouldn’t have believed me. But now you can see for yourself. It’s early, so she probably isn’t entertaining any clients yet. We can call on her,’ he said, reaching for the doorbell.
‘Wait,’ Soren said, the cold edge returned to his voice. He stared at his feet for a few moments, his brain fuddled with confusion. How could she have become a whore? What could have happened while he was away? He reached for the doorbell cord and gave it two firm tugs.
‘Wait for me here. I won’t be long,’ said Soren.
A maid opened the door.
‘How can I help you, sir?’
‘I’m here to see Madame Bevrielle,’ replied Soren.
‘Of course, sir. It’s a little early, but if you’d like to come through I shall let the lady know you are here.’
He sneered at the use of the word ‘lady’, and cast a look at Ranph as he stepped through the doorway, oblivious to the fact that the shocked look on Ranph’s face was due to the dark expression on his own.
The maid led him into a comfortable sitting room, scented with lady’s perfume, and another heavier, muskier scent; the residue of dream seed smoke. The apartment was not quite what he would have expected of a whore, but he had never seen the inside of a brothel before, so he had nothing to gauge it by.
‘A fine apartment,’ he said. His knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword as he struggled to contain the anger that was welling within him.
‘Yes, my Lady has taken the bottom two floors of the building. It suits her very nicely. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I shall go and tell her that you are here.’
He nodded his acquiescence and watched her leave the room. He thought about sitting, but he was too uneasy to sit, and stared out of the window into the harbour as he tried to think of anything that would not make him angry. He waited for some time.
‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, sir, but I was not expecting any callers at this hour,’ said a lady’s voice. It was one that Soren recognised instantly.
He turned to face her and she stopped in her tracks, her mouth open with surprise.
‘I see you missed me!’ he said brightly, forcing a smile to his face, his hands beginning to shake with anger.
‘Soren, I…’ Her voice faltered, the look of surprise completely taking over her face.
‘You took to whoring very quickly. I was gone less than a year,’ he said, his tone still bright, incredulous, but now betraying a hint of the cold hard anger which was coursing through him.
She walked further into the room and sat down on one of the plush chairs. For a moment Soren wanted nothing more than to forgive her, to take her in his arms, to just hold her and breathe her in. She looked exquisite, beautiful, fresh, just as he remembered. Now though, she was dressed in the finest clothes money could buy, her hair styled in the noble fashion and her face ever so carefully made up, just enough to accentuate her features, but not so heavy as to stand out. It was gilding to an already beautiful lily, but the effect was such that it was overpowering.
‘You just left,’ she said, her voice quiet, uncertain, sad.
‘I just left?’ Soren said.
‘Yes,’ she replied, firmer now. ‘You just left. Without a word, without a note. Nothing. You just left me.’ Her words were edged with anger now; she almost spat the last sentence at him. Her brazenness astounded and infuriated him. His heart jumped up and down in his chest as it pounded away angrily.
‘I sent word. I sent word to let you know that I had to leave the city suddenly.’
‘Oh yes, I got a message all right. The Don’s men came looking for a barbarian and his sell sword. It was clear enough that it was you they were after! After that it was pretty obvious that you’d run off. I even went to your noble patron to see if he knew where you were,’ she said.
Soren’s thundering course of anger came to an abrupt halt, as though he had run at full pace into a brick wall.
‘Amero dal Moreno?’ he asked, his voice the one now sounding uncertain.
‘Oh yes, the great Amero. Where else do you think I got all these wonderful things?’ she said, gesturing around her, her voice loaded with spite.
This revelation was too profound for Soren to take in. Anger once again replaced his uncertainty.
‘I told you I loved you. You should have waited. He knew where I was. He would have told you what had happened and where I’d gone,’ said Soren.
‘All he told me was that he had no idea where you’d gone. There was trouble, and you’d disappeared, but I’d already worked that much out for myself. You could have been dead for all I knew, but I reckoned the Don’s men wouldn’t have come around if they had caught you. So I thought you’d just gone. And to think I’d have gone with you if you’d only asked.’ She snorted in disdain at her own words.
‘And because of that you started whoring yourself to the highest bidder. I thought you were more than that, but now I see they were right about you,’ Soren said, sneering again.
‘I had nothing else left to me,’ she said, standing as she did, her voice choked with anger. ‘Now get out. I won’t have you coming in to my own house insulting me. Just be satisfied that you’re the only man to have had me for free. Now get out!’
The intensity of her words shocked him.‘Of course, my Lady,’ he said, aping a bow. ‘I wouldn’t want to interrupt the service to your paying customers!’
He turned on his heel and stormed out, too focussed on his anger to see the tears welling in Alessandra’s eyes.
Ranph had known bett
er than to speak to him, or to follow him, so by the time Soren got to a tavern he was alone. He ordered two men out of a dark booth at the back of the tavern, and once they saw the sword at his waist they did as he demanded. He sat and began to drink and the drink lubricated the raging thoughts in his head.
Amero had lied to her. That was the one inexorable fact. But why? Did it change anything? She was still a whore. High class or not, she was sullied. He would never have anything to do with her. There was always something else, some other option, some other way to survive. He had been on the streets with nothing. Other boys and girls had taken to it for a few pennies, but he never had. He could never forgive Alessandra for doing what she had done, but why had Amero behaved as he had?
After several more pitchers of ale he decided that he would find out for himself.
He pounded on the door of Amero’s townhouse until a servant opened it. He pushed his way in, shouting for Amero. Emeric appeared in the hallway, dressed in his dark and well fitted britches and doublet. As always, he looked like he was ready for a fight. As always, he looked as though he would welcome one. He gave Soren an inquisitive look and then nodded his bald head toward a door to Soren’s left. Soren strode up to it and slammed it open. He was faced with the naked back of a giggling young woman who was sitting on Amero’s lap, obscuring him, the lower part of her dress covering them both.
‘My Lord, I would speak with you!’ he said, his words slurred rather than authoritative as he had intended. The woman looked back at him with a petulant and irritated expression. Amero’s face appeared from behind one of her breasts.
‘Why don’t you go upstairs, Lucy, I’ll be along in a moment,’ he said to her gently.
‘Yes, my Lord.’ She giggled, kissing him seductively before bunching her dishevelled clothes up around her and left the room, casting Soren a filthy look as she went.
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