Maybe all the rumours were true—the recent ones, at least. Maybe Rufus had been like a wounded animal—vicious, barbaric, half-crazed in his final days. There hadn’t been enough of him left to read his expression, so Zachary couldn’t know for sure. Perhaps DuGilles had driven Rufus to madness, and then put him down like a rabid dog.
Zachary stood outside Daniel’s bedroom, his hands pressed to his lips. He hadn’t returned home all day, choosing instead to fetch his horse and ride as far out of the city as he could. A part of him had been tempted to keep riding. It would be easy to flee to the coast, catch a boat to Réne and further from there. To a place where nobody knew him, or could speak to him.
In the end, sensibilities had driven him back to the capital. The first thing he’d done was catch the evening courier and send a reply to Isaac, urging him not to come to Harmatia and to return to his comfortable, secluded life in La’Kalciar.
He then proceeded to find a tavern and drink it dry. He would rather let people see him as a drunkard, making a fool of himself, then let them know that one of the most vicious warriors in Harmatia was afraid.
Finally, stinking and wretched, he returned home and found himself at his brother’s door. It was well past midnight, but, after a long hesitation, Zachary knocked. The reply was quick.
“Who is it?”
“May I come in?” Zachary’s voice was husky.
“Yes.”
Zachary opened the door. Daniel was sat in bed, the covers pulled up his chin, but by the lit candles, and the open books strewn on the bed, it was clear the boy hadn’t been sleeping. He eyed Zachary warily. The Magi dragged a chair from the desk, to the side of the bed, and dropped into it with a huff.
“Where in Malak’s name have you been?” Daniel asked. “Mrs Benson’s been with worried sick.”
“I just saw her.”
“And Lord Hathely and Fold waited for you for hours.”
“And they will get their apologies tomorrow,” Zachary sighed and took Daniel’s injured arm, examining the bandages. “The physician healed it?”
Daniel nodded.
“Small blessings.”
“You reek of alcohol.” Daniel wrinkled his nose, reclaiming his arm. “Is that where you’ve been? Drinking?”
“Me? Drinking? No, no—you must have me mistook for that brother of yours. You know—the one who doesn’t give a damn about your opinion.”
Daniel scowled, and looked away, selecting a spot on the wall to focus on instead. “As mean as you like to paint yourself, I know you don’t hold me in nearly as much contempt as you pretend. You put on that you’re cold and detached, but really you care about people. As crass and bad-tempered as you like to be, you proved that today.”
Zachary blinked, absorbing these words. “Oh fuck off, Daniel.”
Daniel’s mouth twitched with a small smile. Zachary crossed his arms, pulling a face. It was the most normal he’d felt all day.
“Daniel, you’re my brother,” he eventually said. “As annoying as you are, I wasn’t going to let Fold kill you.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t have to come and check on me.”
“Who said I’m checking on you?”
“Why else would you be here?”
Zachary sobered. He could hardly tell Daniel the truth—that he was frightened, and felt alone, and conflicted. He tipped his head back against the chair and shook it from side to side, sighing loudly.
“What did the King do?” Daniel asked.
Zachary laughed and closed his eyes. The Southern Quarter—the issue hadn’t even risen with Sverrin. Perhaps that would be tomorrow’s burden?
“What did the King do?” Daniel repeated.
“Ach—nothing. Would you be quiet?”
“Nothing?” Daniel scoffed. “A group of alchemists tried to burn down the Southern Quarters, the Night Patrol came out in public, and you’re saying the King did nothing?”
“I suppose the alchemists kept their tongues about it. So long as nobody complains, the affair doesn’t necessitate his attention.” Zachary blinked his tired eyes open and tipped his head forward. “His Majesty required my assistance for another, completely unrelated matter. That’s all you need to know and,” he added as Daniel drew in a sharp breath to interrupt, “all I am going say.”
Daniel fiddled with his fingers in an unsatisfied silence. The boy was too curious for his own good. Finally, he seemed to relent, and changed the subject. “News is going to spread that you’re Night Patrol.”
“Oh, enough people already suspected it—my anonymity is no great loss.”
“They’ll be talking about it at the academy.”
“No doubt,” Zachary grunted. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Daniel raised his head a little, surprised. Zachary picked at his fingers, feigning indifference.
“After all, it’s why they beat you, isn’t it? Those bullies taking the Warriors’ Assessment.”
“They see you as an obstacle to overcome,” Daniel agreed softly, “so they use me, because apparently being your brother automatically makes us the same…Never mind that I’m an architect.”
“Next time,” Zachary suggested, “why don’t you tell them to come straight to me? If they want a fight, I’ll happily oblige.”
“They don’t want to fight you,” Daniel said. “They just want to win.”
“Hah!” Zachary barked. “You are smart, aren’t you?”
Daniel studied him, looking quickly away to his spot on the wall when Zachary caught his eye. “Can I ask a question?”
“No.”
Daniel ignored him. “How old were you?”
“When what?”
“When you first…” Daniel wrinkled his nose, “when you first killed a man.”
Zachary’s sat up straight, his eyebrows raised. “What kind of question is that?”
Daniel shrugged. “The Night Patrol have a reputation. And you…The way they talk about you at the academy…I just wondered.”
“How old do you think?” Zachary asked.
“I don’t know.” Daniel thought for a moment. “Fifteen?”
“Fifteen?” Zachary choked. “What on earth do you think I was doing at fifteen to be killing people?”
“I don’t know, you’re a warrior,” Daniel said grumpily.
Zachary chuckled. “I was a year older than you.”
Daniel peered around at him, his eyes a little wide, as if surprised Zachary was actually divulging this information. Zachary was a little surprised himself.
“One of King Thestian’s cousins, an Earl from the western coast, had amassed an army and was planning a full rebellion in an attempt to claim the throne. He overestimated the popularity of his campaign. I was deployed with the army, alongside my master. It was my first battle.”
“What happened to the Earl?”
“Oh, he took an arrow to the eye within the first half-hour. His army scattered, and the affair was over by lunch. I killed thirteen men that day.”
“You kept count?”
“The loss of a life should always be noted. You have a duty to remember.”
“But the Night Patrol killed hundreds of people during the curfew—” Daniel began. Zachary cut him off.
“Hundreds?” he huffed. “Closer to tens, Daniel. In two years we never rose above thirty casualties. Statistically, due to the curfew, the level of murder in the city actually went down by close to fifty-percent.”
Daniel stammered, thrown off by this new information. “Even thirty’s too many,” he persisted. “And the way you killed them…They still talk about it today.”
Zachary narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how many people I personally killed during that time?” he asked softly.
Daniel grew still, and shook his head.
“Four. Their names were Jacob Cobb, Matthew Dwight, Emmett Surrey and Borgis Crabben. Cobb was wanted for raping three young girls and was breaking into the house of a fourth victim when he was caught.
Dwight murdered his wife and lover in front of their two daughters, and was attempting to flee the city. And Surrey, well Surrey kidnapped five children and was planning to sell them to slavers on the coast, when a couple managed to escape. He chased them down, and was battering one to death when I found him.”
Daniel, for the first time, didn’t look away. “What about Crabben?” he asked.
Zachary dropped his eyes. “Crabben fell asleep in his workshop and made the mistake of trying to run home, instead of staying there for the night. He was cornered in the square by several of my greener officers. By the time I reached him, he was near death and in incredible pain. I finished him.”
“So it was mercy?” Daniel asked, his mouth dipping at one side sceptically.
“It was my orders. Any man found in the streets after the hour of curfew was to be put to death. Arrangements were made that no innocent should have been out. Crabben broke the law.”
“What about the children?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said the children escaped, and that Surrey was hunting them. So the children were also out after curfew. Did you kill them?”
Zachary’s mouth tightened, and he grew very quiet.
Daniel gave a knowing nod, looking strangely satisfied. “I didn’t think so.”
“Be quiet.” Zachary folded his arms and a silence grew between the two brothers. Zachary closed his eyes, almost dozing in the chair. He heard Daniel inhale, and groaned.
“Can I ask another question?”
“Oh sons of the gods, will you stop?”
“Was Rufus Merle part of the Night Patrol?”
“Athea,” Zachary spat, standing sharply from the chair and pacing away. “He’s the sore subject of the day. Why would you ask such a question?”
“I’m only curious.”
“Well your curiosity is going to get you killed, damn you!” Zachary snapped, and then checked himself.
Daniel withdrew into the bed, and where he might have looked annoyed in the past, there was now an element of fear in his eyes.
Of course he’s afraid, Zachary reminded himself. He saw you transform this morning.
Zachary exhaled slowly, his hands moving to the back of his neck and messaging the tight muscles. His head was beginning to throb again. “No,” he said evenly, “Merle wasn’t Night Patrol. I apologise for raising my voice, but I don’t want to think about him.”
Daniel bowed his head. “It must be difficult,” he murmured, “for you and Lord Odin. People talk about Merle all the time, saying stupid things.”
Daniel’s tone sparked something in Zachary. “You don’t believe what they say?” he asked, warily.
“Is any of it true?”
Zachary thought on this. “He certainly kept company with faeries.”
“I doubt the faeries had anything to do with his treachery.”
“Oh, don’t tell me,” Zachary forced a laugh, “you’re a faerie sympathiser?”
“That’s like asking if I’m a human sympathiser—there are hundreds of different kinds of faeries. They’re all individual. Some want to eat us, true, but others…Others are just likes us,” Daniel said. “I mean, Bethean prospers from their alliance with the Seelie Court, don’t they? And was it not Unseelie magic that brought our King back to life? It seems a little hypocritical to use something, and then shit on it the next day.”
“You’re not wrong,” Zachary muttered.
“And after all, it was the Delphi who taught us magic to begin with, and they supposedly came from Avalon. But now, all of that’s being erased. I tried to find a book which had been recommended to me by the librarian, Francis, and I was told it’d been removed for heretical passages. It seems to me, the shelves of the Great Library have more spaces these days than they were built for.”
Zachary closed his eyes again. “I am of a similar mind to you,” he admitted, “but it is rapidly being considered an archaic mode of thought.”
“I think we could learn a great deal from an alliance with the faeries,” Daniel continued, unaware of the danger of his own words. “If they can return a man from the dead, imagine what else they could do? There are stories. Men returned to their youth, barren women with child,” Daniel’s voice rose with excitement, “spells that reverse a person’s sex!”
Zachary peeked his eyes open. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”
Daniel blinked, his fleeting, wistful expression being replaced by something very neutral.
“It was only an example,” he said.
Zachary narrowed his eyes.
“The point is,” Daniel moved on quickly, “people segregate these ideas like it’s all black and white. And they seem unwilling to consider any parameters beyond the ‘obvious’—that because all Harmatian and Magi must be good, in order to be a traitor, Merle had to be Betheanian and a faerie.”
Zachary gave an exasperated groan. “I said I didn’t want to talk about him.”
“Do you really hate him that much?”
Zachary turned his back on his brother. “No,” he confessed, “but I am afraid of what he might do to me.”
“Do to you?”
Zachary laughed emptily. “They say the true value of a man can only be measured by the repercussions of his passing. In the growing months, Daniel, you’re going to understand exactly how important Rufus Merle was, and exactly why anyone who has ever spoken his name ought to be afraid.”
Daniel shivered at the ominous words. “I don’t understand.”
Zachary hesitated, and then very quickly went to Daniel’s side. He leant in, speaking in conspiratorial whispers. “Don’t ever let anybody doubt your loyalty. If they do, fight. And if they win…Take your own life.”
Daniel’s eyes widened. Zachary swallowed.
“It is much better than the alternative.”
“I—” Daniel stammered, “I don’t think I could.”
“Then by Athea, swear to me you will never ask me, or anyone else about Rufus Merle again.”
“I swear.” Daniel darted his eyes across Zachary’s face, leaning away, intimidated by the proximity.
Zachary fell back into his chair, exhausted and suddenly miserable. He groaned softy, his hands once more messaging his sore neck and shoulders.
“Ah, it’s almost morning. The tenth day of Prospan. Damn him, Merle really is the sore subject of the day. May Athea have mercy on his soul.”
“Rufus.”
A sliver of light peeped through the shutters, casting a stripe over the shadowed bed. Rufus stared at it, still as stone, his arms cradling his pillow. He blinked slowly, still shrouded in a thick veil of sleep. Joshua had climbed onto the bed and lay in front of him, fully clothed but soft-eyed, as if he too had only just woken.
“Rufus?” he called again, and Rufus blinked and smiled.
“I’m here. I’m awake.”
“Good morning,” Joshua said. “Did you sleep well?”
“I think so.” Rufus didn’t dare raise his voice. In the column of light, dust hung in the air, swirling lazily. “Strange dreams. Confusing.”
Joshua nodded, as if he, too, had been privy to them. “Fae says you have to get up.”
“Why?” Rufus frowned. “Shouldn’t you be training?”
“Not today. We have somewhere to go. It’s important. Are you awake, Rufus?”
“Hm.” Rufus hadn’t realised his eyes had fallen closed again. “Where?”
“South.”
“I don’t want to,” Rufus mumbled. He was normally the first to rise, but exhaustion clung to him now. He was heavy in his bed and unwilling to leave it.
“Rufus.” Joshua squirmed closer. “Papa, come back. Please come back.”
“I’m not gone.” Rufus could feel himself sinking back into his pillow.
“Yes you are.”
The words resonated through Rufus’s exhausted body. He forced his eyes open, and freeing an arm from beneath his head, he wrapped it around his brother. It didn�
��t seem right to try and reassure him—Joshua was too clever for that.
They lay a while, Rufus focusing on the beam of light, until his tired eyes stopped blurring in and out of focus. Finally, with an exhausted huff that made him sound like an old man, he rolled out of the bed and stumbled to the window.
Pulling the shutters back, he allowed sudden, blinding light to pour through. The sun was barely rising, but the sky was bright and brilliant with the promise of a glorious day. Rufus allowed the daybreak to rouse him and, mustering up all the energy and courage he could, he washed quickly and dressed.
Leaving the room with Joshua, Rufus was surprised to find the castle already bursting with life. Servants bustled about, busy at their chores, and the usual ‘wanderers’ were strolling down the corridors, some lounging in window seats, reading, while others laughed and chattered gaily with one another, their eyes vacant. Rufus suspected that, like Boyd, these Sidhe didn’t see the merit of sleep.
They met Fae and Boyd in the courtyard, stood by a set of fine-looking horses.
“Good morrow,” Rufus greeted them. “I don’t suppose either of you are going to tell me where we’re going?”
“South,” Fae replied, and Rufus shook his head. Something about their manner told him they were in a hurry to go—clearly circumstances had conspired which required both Prince and Magi to be gone from the Neve for the day.
Rufus ran his hands through his hair, and gave his fringe a tug. Typical, today of all days.
Fae threw him the reins of a handsome black mare as he approached, and Rufus’s gloom was momentarily displaced as he looked at the horse.
“Gracious, she looks just like Moyna.” He stroked the mare’s nose, the horse nuzzling his palm fondly. The last Rufus had ever seen of his horse was the night he’d left Harmatia with Joshua. The poor mare was probably long dead now, but Fae’s attention to detail had brought back a happy memory.
“I know you’re a nostalgic sort.” Fae smiled slightly, nodding toward Joshua’s horse which was a dark, strong looking bay.
Rufus coughed. “Athea have mercy, tell me we’re not riding down to the Myrithian forest for a repeat of our last adventure.”
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 31