Soulbinder (Book 3)

by Ben Cassidy

  Maklavir uncrossed his arms and pressed the fingertips of his hands together. “I prefer to say fortuitous.”

  Dutraad rose from the chair and walked to the fireplace. He adjusted a bust on the mantle. “You claim that Pekerin’s documents are fake, but you can’t prove it.”

  “Not in a court of law, no.”

  Dutraad turned. “Then you can’t help me.”

  “That, my lord, is where you are mistaken.” Maklavir sat up in the chair, swinging his feet down off the table. “Give me thirty minutes and I guarantee you that the land will remain yours.”

  The baron turned his attention back to the marble bust. He fingered it idly. “You seem very confident. How do you intend to disprove Pekerin’s claim?”

  Maklavir gave a sly smile. “No offense, my lord, but if I told you that now I’d be surrendering a winning hand before collecting the pot, as it were.”

  Dutraad cocked his head towards the diplomat. “And what ‘pot’ did you have in mind?”

  “A thousand sovereigns,” said Maklavir. “A pittance, I think you will agree, especially given the value of the land in question. Not to mention the cost of the legal fees you’ll be saving.”

  Dutraad smiled mirthlessly. “You’re quite the gambler, Maklavir.”

  “I like to think so,” he replied calmly.

  The baron stroked his mustache. He looked back at the roaring fire. “You have a deal. Give me the pertinent information and I will pass it on to Alfin.”

  “Your barrister is a venerable fool,” Maklavir said without a hint of emotion. “I don’t trust him to be able to pull this off successfully. I’ll do this myself, or not at all. Those are my terms.”

  Dutraad moved back to the table and sat down in a chair opposite from Maklavir. He stared shrewdly at the diplomat for a long moment.

  “You’re not in this for the money,” the baron said after a long moment. It wasn’t a question.

  “No,” said Maklavir instantly.

  “What is it that you really want?” Dutraad measured Maklavir carefully with his eyes.

  “A patron.”

  Dutraad nodded slowly. “There was a Maklavir at the court of King Luxium, if I remember correctly. A terrible scandal. It was in all the bulletins at the time. Even earned a mention in the state notices.” The baron lowered his eyebrows. “That Maklavir was exiled from the court.”

  Maklavir leaned forward. “It has been several years since then,” he said softly. “I am ready to come back to Valmingaard, to step into public life again. Nothing extreme, just a little job here in Valmingaard as a barrister. I cannot imagine the King would begrudge me that.”

  Dutraad’s eyes flashed. “The King can be quite petty, and holds onto a grudge for a long while. If you spent any time around him, you should know that.”

  “Exile has been hard on me,” said Maklavir simply. “I want to come back, to settle down in my old country again.” His face changed for a moment, torn with emotions. “I’ve…wanted it more than anything else.”

  Dutraad glanced out the window at the swirling snow and passing traffic of the street. “I can’t do it, Maklavir. It’s too risky for me.”

  Maklavir put both his hands on the table. “Baron Dutraad, you are the most powerful man in Valmingaard. If I had your support, I could establish myself again in this city, start anew—”

  “If the King discovered I was helping a man he had exiled, he would ruin me,” said Dutraad, still gazing out the window.

  Maklavir stood. “It’s a gamble, my lord. But I can promise you this. If you support me, I will provide you with free legal and business consultation for as long as you wish, starting with resolving this land dispute right here and now. If you know my prior reputation, then you also know that I am a barrister of great skill. And if you have any doubts on that matter, I can settle them today.”

  Dutraad swiveled his head back to face Maklavir. “You will need to keep a low profile. No scandals. Nothing to draw attention to yourself. If the King takes notice of you, I will disown you, publicly and brutally.”

  Maklavir took a deep breath, then gave a quick nod. “Understood.”

  “You have thirty minutes,” Dutraad continued. “Resolve this land issue for me, Maklavir, and I will provide you with both your money and your patronage. You have my word.”

  Maklavir stood, and gave a sweeping bow. “Your generosity is too great, my lord.”

  The baron kept his eyes fixed on the diplomat. “I should warn you, Maklavir, that I am not a man to be crossed. If I find that you have cheated me, or that you are in league with one of my enemies—”

  Maklavir gave an understanding smile. “Then you will have me ruined?”

  A chilling look came into Dutraad’s eyes. “Don’t be foolish, Maklavir. I cannot ruin a man who has already been ruined. But I can find other ways to…punish you.”

  Maklavir swallowed.

  “Thirty minutes,” said Dutraad with a glance up at the ticking clock fastened near the door.

  “I’ll have it done in ten,” said Maklavir casually. He moved to the door.

  “Maklavir?”

  The diplomat paused and turned back towards Dutraad. “My lord?”

  “How do you intend to counter Pekerin’s claim?”

  He grinned. “I can’t give away all my secrets, now can I? It’s all legal, and merely a matter of understanding the fine print. So much of this work is.”

  Dutraad folded his hands in front of him. “Candle Ice is in five days. I would be honored if you would consider coming to my manor house here in town and staying for the duration of the festivities. It would be an excellent time to introduce you to some influential friends of mine.”

  Maklavir dipped his head. “You are too kind, my lord.”

  “Some will undoubtedly recognize you from your time spent at court. Are you married?”

  The diplomat paused for only the briefest moment. “As it happens, my lord, I am.”

  “Good. Bring your wife with you when you come. She will undoubtedly go far to show the nobles here in Vorten that you are not reckless young man you once were.”

  “Yes, my lord. And thank you.” Maklavir bowed again, then stepped out into the hallway.

  Kendril lifted his head at the sound of the knock. He put one hand on the handle of his pistol, then nodded over at Joseph.

  The scout scooted over against the wooden wall of the warehouse. He peeked out between two boards, visibly relaxed, then opened the side door.

  Maklavir came inside, his face red against the cold. “About time,” he grumbled. “It’s freezing out there.”

  Kendril took his hand away from the butt of his pistol and turned back to the carriage. A lantern resting on a crate next to him cast a flickering glow over the large room.

  Joseph pulled his greatcoat closer around him. “Not much better in here, I’m afraid. It’s hard to keep a warehouse warm.”

  “Yes,” Maklavir agreed as he moved past a stack of old boxes. His breath steamed out into the cold air of the room. “No fireplace. By the way, I’m in.”

  Kara scooted her head out from underneath the carriage. Her face was smeared with grime and dirt. “You’re in? Already?”

  “Well, not in exactly…” He spread his hands. “But I have an invitation to Dutraad’s manor, in five days. For the Candle Ice celebration.”

  “Five days,” Kendril repeated. He looked the carriage up and down. “We might be able to do it.”

  Joseph shook his head in amazement. “You weren’t even gone six hours. How did you manage to get an invitation from Baron Dutraad that quickly?”

  The diplomat beamed. “Yes, I impress even myself sometimes.”

  Kara rose to her feet. She rubbed her dirty hands off on her trouser legs. “Apparently you also had enough time for a shave and new clothes.”

  Maklavir looked down at his clothes, and subconsciously rubbed his face. “Yes, well I thought that a change might be in order, considering that half of the city
’s gendarmes are hunting for a man with a goatee and a purple cape.”

  Kendril leaned inside the carriage. “So you got a red cape instead. Brilliant.”

  Maklavir frowned. “Well, someone’s in a bad mood. I thought you of all people would be pleased about all this.” He turned, the red cape floating behind him. “I do miss the purple, though.”

  Kendril’s voice sounded hollow from inside the carriage. “It definitely brought out your eyes.” He re-emerged, rubbing his sleeve across his face. “And how much did all this cost?”

  Maklavir moved over to an uneven table set up by the carriage. “Not much. Did I also happen to mention that I made a thousand sovereigns today?”

  Kara gaped at the diplomat. “Tuldor’s beard, what counting house did you rob to get that kind of cash?”

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Maklavir as he plucked a flenshi bun off the table. “I already gave some to Senna to cover our expenses here. And of course a lot of the money will have to go right back into purchasing clothes.”

  Kendril glared at him.

  Maklavir took a bite of the bun. “Please, Kendril, if you want me to play a nobleman I have to dress like one. I’ll need at least one change of clothes for each day. Kara will need even more.”

  Joseph froze. “Kara?”

  The redhead looked over at Kendril. “I thought I was going as a servant?”

  Maklavir weighed the flenshi philosophically in his hand. “Yes, well, I was meaning to tell you all about that—”

  Kendril furrowed his brow. “Maklavir—”

  “I told Dutraad that I was married,” Maklavir blurted. “I didn’t really have a choice. He was making it very clear that, well, with my past and all—”

  Kendril passed a hand over his face. “That all the other nobles in Vorten would be nervous of you stealing their wives away from them. Unless you have a woman of your own on your arm.”

  “Well…yes.”

  Kara glanced over at Kendril. “Hold on. Now I’m supposed to go as Maklavir’s wife?”

  “Absolutely not!” Joseph said.

  Kara gave the scout a harsh look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Joseph opened and closed his mouth, momentarily flustered. “Nothing, I—I just meant that you couldn’t…I mean you can’t—”

  Kendril stared at the warehouse floor in thought. “It might actually make things easier.” He looked up at the redhead. “It would get you inside the manor, anyway, and you could keep an eye on Maklavir.”

  The diplomat gave a relieved nod. “Exactly. Wait, what?”

  “Kendril,” said Kara haltingly, “I—I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know anything about high society. I don’t know what fork to use, I don’t know how to address a nobleman, I…I—” She glanced down at her dirt-stained trousers and frayed vest. “Well, look at me.”

  “We have five days to teach you,” Kendril commented quietly. He gave a half-smile. “And get you cleaned up.”

  Joseph looked at Maklavir, then back over at Kendril. “Alright, so Kara is going as Maklavir’s wife. What about us?”

  “Servants,” said Kendril. “Now let’s get to work. We’ve only got five days.”

  “Yes,” said Maklavir. “You know, I’m actually looking forward to this. I’ve heard tales of Baron Dutraad’s Candle Ice celebrations. Apparently they get more lavish every year.”

  Kara crinkled her brow. “Wait. Candle Ice? What’s that?”

  Maklavir chuckled. “My dear Kara, we do have a lot to teach you.”

  “Right,” said Kendril curtly. He turned back to the carriage. “And the clock is ticking. So let’s get working.”

  Kendril stepped out into the alley. He glanced up and down the small street, one hand resting firmly on his holstered pistol.

  It was dark. Above the stars blazed out in the cold Valmingaard night. The persistent gray clouds and near-constant swirl of white snowflakes that had lasted the last few days had finally vanished, but it was still bitterly cold.

  Across the way came dull throb of noise from Senna’s inn. Light spilled out of one of the windows, sparkling off the snow bank. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked loudly.

  Kendril sidled down the side of the warehouse, his eyes searching the darkness of the alley.

  Behind him he heard the door open and shut.

  Kendril turned.

  Joseph walked up to him, breathing into his hands. “Cold night.”

  The Ghostwalker nodded, his eyes already examining the darkness again. “Yes.”

  “Too bad we can’t stay in the inn.”

  “Too dangerous,” Kendril said brusquely.

  “I know.” Joseph gave his friend a keen glance. “What are you doing out here this late?”

  Kendril gestured to the alleyway. “Thought I’d take a look around before turning in. I guess I’m just a little restless.”

  Joseph smiled. “I took a look around myself just ten minutes ago. You’ll be happy to know there were no strange tracks or signs of intruders that I could detect. Unless you count two stray cats, a mongrel dog, and some rats.”

  Kendril shuddered. “Don’t talk to me about rats.”

  The scout pulled his greatcoat closer around him. “Don’t worry, these were of the common variety.” His face turned serious. “You know you’re sending her into a den of vipers.”

  Kendril didn’t pretend not to know who Joseph was talking about. “Kara is a big girl, Joseph. She can take care of herself.”

  “I know, it’s just—” Joseph cast a cautionary glance back towards the warehouse door. “I have a bad feeling about this. About all of it. The Soulbinder, the assassin, Dutraad…” He clenched his teeth. “Remember Balneth? This feels even worse. If that vision you had was real, if this is really the start of, well of—”

  “I’m not happy about this any more than you,” Kendril said in a low voice. “But Kara can handle herself. If anyone ends up getting killed, it will be Maklavir.”

  “Look, I know that this Soulbinder is important. You don’t have to convince me of that. But Kara—” He stopped, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

  Kendril looked squarely at his friend. “Kara is important to you,” he finished.

  Joseph shuffled his feet nervously. “Yes.”

  The Ghostwalker laid a gloved hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “I promise you, Joseph, I won’t let any harm come to her. Not while I have any power to prevent it.”

  The scout visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

  Kendril removed his hand. “Though at the rate you’re moving, she’ll be an old maid before you make a move.”

  Joseph squirmed. “I’m—I’m just biding my time. You know, I don’t want to rush things, or say the wrong thing, or—” He sighed. “Eru in Pelos, I guess I’m just afraid.”

  “Well, better not wait too long.” Kendril turned back to the warehouse door. “She’ll be a married woman in five days.”

  Chapter 15

  “Candle Ice is an ancient Valmingaard festival. It dates back several hundred years.” Maklavir paused, scratching his chin. “Actually, I doubt anyone knows exactly when it began. The first occurrence I can think of was in the reign of King Norikalis, when his son—”

  Kara fidgeted awkwardly from where she sat on a nearby crate. She looked over at Kendril with a face of quiet desperation.

  The Ghostwalker sighed. “This isn’t a university lecture, Maklavir. Why don’t you skip to the important details?”

  “What? Oh, yes, of course.” Maklavir turned back towards Kara. “I guess what is important to know is that there are three main events in any Candle Ice celebration. First, there is a lavish feast which traditionally features a cooked goose—”

  Joseph plucked his head up from where he leaned against the warehouse wall. “Goose?”

  “Yes,” said Maklavir, irritated at being interrupted. “If you really want me to explain all the historical and cultural facets behind every detail of Candle Ice I certainly
can, but if you want me to abbreviate in the interests of time—”

  Kendril held up his gloved hands in surrender. “By all means, Maklavir, abbreviate away.”

  Kara stared down at the place setting spread out on the top of a large crate before her. “So, there’s a dinner—”

  “Not just a dinner,” Maklavir corrected. “A feast of epic proportions. The meal can easily take hours. Then there is the dance.”

  Kara’s face paled. “A dance?”

  Maklavir paced in front of the crate, his red cape floating behind him. “Yes. It is traditional to wear white for the evening.” He gave the redheaded girl a measured glance. “We’ll have to get you a special gown for the occasion, I think. I know a few excellent tailors in the city. Some of the best in Valmingaard. Once they take your measurements, I’m sure they can create something stunning for the occasion.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Kendril with more than a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “Because I’m sure that won’t cost a lot of money or anything. Let’s buy her two so we have a backup just in case.”

  Maklavir crossed his arms. “If Kara is going to walk into that ballroom she will have to be dressed as a noblewoman. And yes, that will indeed cost a good sum of money. No sense complaining about it now. Don’t make me remind you, this whole thing was your idea, not mine.”

  Kara looked as if she was going to be ill.

  “It wasn’t my idea to have Kara go along as your wife,” Kendril snapped. “That little bit of genius was all yours.”

  Maklavir rolled his eyes. “I already told you, there was no other way.”

  Joseph pushed away from the wall. “And what if Dutraad sees right through her? The game will be up before it—”

  Kara jumped to her feet. “I need some air.” She brushed by a startled Maklavir and headed towards the side door.

  Joseph turned towards Kara with genuine concern on his face. “Kara, wait—”

  She disappeared outside. The door slammed shut behind her.

  Joseph gave a nearby crate an angry kick. He whirled on Maklavir. “Now look what you did.”

  Maklavir threw back his shoulders. “Me? What on Zanthora have I done?”