He endured the repetitious dream in silence for as long as he could, then sought out Levy, a scribe who had served his father diligently for many years. When the old man's eyes gave out, he was given a room in Shadow Castle and a promise that he could live out his life there. Now nearly blind, Levy taught servants to read and write with the same patience he'd used to teach Peto himself.
Levy heard him coming and identified him by his step on the stone floor of the hall. "What brings you to me after so many months?" Levy asked.
"I need to speak to you," Peto said.
Levy asked his students to go and motioned for Peto to take a seat.
Peto described his recurring dream. "Can you tell me what this dream means and why I keep having it?"
In most people, blindness seemed an infirmity. Levy, however, just looked contemplative, as if his thoughts were focused inward. Now his expression grew remote as he considered what he knew.
"In parts of Kislova, it is believed a white wolf is not a wolf at all, but the ghost of a werebeast whose soul is caught between the afterworld of men and that of beasts. To find redemption, it must help a spirit who is helpless to right a terrible wrong. Usually the one so helped died through treachery. You're surprised?"
"How did you know?" Peto asked.
"I heard your quick inhale. Why does this information surprise you?"
"When I told my wife about the dream, she said that she didn't know what it meant."
"Perhaps she doesn't know the legend."
Peto laughed. "Ilsabet knows everything. I have never met a more educated woman."
"Then most likely she doesn't believe the story and didn't want to worry you."
"Possibly."
"But you don't think so. You think she lied. Why?"
Was there nothing this man missed? He knew that Levy could be trusted to keep his confidence, so he poured out the story of the Obour family and how Marishka and Mihael had died.
"You're certain Marishka died from an accident?" Levy asked.
"My own surgeon said so. And Ilsabet was with her, right to the end. I've never seen her so distraught."
"And so you have no doubts about Baroness Ilsa-bet's innocence in her siblings' deaths?"
"She is my wife. She will bear my child."
"That wasn't what I asked," Levy said gently.
"I have doubts," Peto whispered, admitting the truth for the first time.
"Then you ought to heed Marishka's advice, at least until those doubts are resolved."
Peto agreed. He was always a direct man, and his plan reflected his personality. He went right from Levy to Jorani. Since his arrival, the dour Kislovan lord had followed Ilsabet's habits and spent most of his time in the library. When Peto joined him, Jorani was just finishing a history of the Casse family.
Peto patted the book. "The man who wrote it was seeking favors from my father," he commented. "So the account is far too flattering."
"So I guessed." Jorani's smile, while sincere, was unsettling. "Were you looking for me?"
"I was," Peto said and took a seat across the table from Jorani. "I want to ask your opinion about a dream I've been having." He described the dream exactly as he had to Levy. As he did, he watched Jorani for some sign of shock, of concern, anything at all that would tell him if Jorani had any doubts about the manner of Marishka's death. He saw nothing.
As soon as he'd finished and asked the meaning of the dream, Jorani replied with a story similar to the one he'd heard from Levy, though with more detail. "Legends say that the werewolf possesses power even in death, and that power enables it to serve the spirit it befriends. Once its job is complete, its human soul passes on to be judged by the fates."
"Should I be wary?" Peto asked.
"You rule one land. You have claim to a second. It would be naive to be anything but wary."
"Of whom?"
The lie came next; Peto was certain of it. "Most of the lords of Kislova are supportive of the alliance you and Ilsabet have created," Jorani said. "But not all. Ilsabet has powerful enemies, if only because she is a woman and people think her vulnerable."
"Is she?"
Jorani shook his head. "You know her better than that," he said. He hesitated, then asked, "Does Ilsabet know about these dreams?"
"I told her." Peto repeated what Ilsabet had said, and for the first time saw a hint of shock on Jorani's face and a bitterness Peto thought he understood. Jorani cared for Ilsabet, and had believed her innocent. Now he wasn't so sure.
"She knows the legend, though she doesn't believe it," Jorani said, concluding as Levy had. "She probably didn't want to worry you."
"But she has," Peto replied. "I intend to tell her so."
They spoke a while longer on other matters, then Peto left the Kislovan lord to his reading. He returned to his own chambers, sat, and contemplated the sudden change in his emotions.
Ilsabet! Lover. Wife. Mother of his child.
Ilsabet. Poisoner. Murderer of her sister, quite possibly her brother. Mother of his child. He'd been filled with joy when he'd gotten that news. Now there was some darker emotion attached to the pregnancy, something sad and inevitable.
Could she really be guilty of such terrible crimes? Looking at the matter logically, he knew she could. Even so, were she here now, he was certain he would take her in his arms, would love her.
However, he decided to keep well informed of his wife's activities. To that end, he wrote a letter and asked the messenger to deliver it in private to Lieutenant Shaul.
TWENTY-THREE
When his transformation was complete, no one from Pirie would have recognized Arman as the peasant boy whose body had been lost to the swift waters of the Arvid River. His ruddy face was gaunt; his dancing blue eyes had become cold and distant. With his hair cut and his thin beard neatly trimmed, he wore the blue-and-gold livery of the Obours as if he had always been a part of their guard.
Though he had a place of honor in their ranks, the other guards avoided him, first because they found his sudden arrival odd and his intensity disturbing, later because it was clear that he was Ilsabet's most cunning spy. Anything critical said about her in his presence, even in jest, got back to her. Men were disciplined and drummed out of the guards. One was even beheaded for making what the baroness saw as seditious remarks. Arman's ears were so keen, people did not even whisper in his presence.
Arman's coldness had an unusual affect on women. Most of the serving girls stayed away from him, but a few of the boldest found his aloof demeanor a challenge. He ignored them all, and the girl who accepted a dare and stole into his room one evening was never seen again. After that even the women left him alone.
The only person unaffected by him was the baroness.
She had him with her every day, standing behind her during the afternoons when she received guests and petitioners, during the evenings when she ate. At night he remained outside her door while she slept. When he was relieved at midnight, he often didn't return to his room. No one knew where he went.
Had he been some other man, people might have thought that he had some private access to his lady's bed, but the kind of devotion he showed to Baroness Ilsabet was not that of a lover but of a slave.
Besides, the baroness was certainly pregnant, with a child due in the spring. Though she had never looked so beautiful, flattery seemed to have uttle effect on her. During state dinners and fetes, she often wore a remote expression as if her mind were occupied elsewhere.
In truth, her thoughts were often on the night and Arman.
His brother had reported back to her as she'd instructed. After getting information on the temperament of the people who lived around Pirie, she asked him the important questions:
Food gave Emory some nourishment once a week; more often, he would lie awake with hunger gnawing at his insides until everyone slept. Then he would sneak out of the house and travel into the hills. If he were lucky, he would catch some wild animal to kill. If not, a sheep or dog would su
ffice. Once when the need was on him, he stumbled on a sleeping beggar. He'd done his best to subdue the man, drink the blood he needed, and let the victim go. The beggar'd had other ideas, and Emory had been forced to kill him.
He readily admitted that the human blood gave the greatest satisfaction, and he hadn't had to leave his house for ten days after.
Arman had less control. He could eat nothing at all and had to seek out blood every other night. Sometimes he roamed the hills as his brother did. Whenever soldiers captured a group of outlaws, Ilsabet would keep them in separate dungeons. After a few days with the damp and the rats, they could always find a prisoner desperate to escape. Arman would offer to show a way out in exchange for gold or information. The man would follow and find himself in the little room where Kashi had died.
With her fear of ghosts kept at bay by the presence of her undead slave, Ilsabet would sit on the bed and watch Arman play with his victim as she had requested, subduing, drinking, letting the man recover, then attacking again. The game would go on night after night until, weakened by the loss of blood, the victim died and was thrown into the river after dark to float downstream.
One of the prisoners, more emotional than the others Arman killed, went insane. They kept him for a week before Ilsabet tired of his screams, decided she needed the room for other things, and ordered Arman to kill him.
Fear was her nourishment, as blood was Arman's. People dismissed her sudden radiance as natural, attributing it to the fact that she was expecting a child. "Brides and future mothers," they would say and comment that once Peto saw her again, he would never leave her side.
With access to Jorani's hidden room, and all that it contained, Ilsabet was working to assure that as well.
With only Arman to guard her, she would sit for hours in the dank guardhouse. The prisoners she'd chosen would be brought one by one to her presence. They'd be offered ale or cider, and food of a quality rarely seen in Kislova, let alone in the dungeons. The questions were vague, about their towns and people.
Many of the prisoners grew to welcome her visits, fawning over her, hoping to be released. But there seemed to be a price for her favor, for her favorites stayed in the dungeons the longest and seemed to adjust most poorly to the darkness and the damp. She wrote in her journal:
Before each visit, I note the dosage of web poison I administer and the vehicle chosen for it. Ingestion gives the quickest and most lethal results, though anyone would know that the victim was murdered through poisoning. Besides, whoever is tasting Peto's food will undoubtedly fall over before Peto ever gets his fork to his mouth.
Breathing in the strands creates a somewhat slower death, but death nonetheless. Though the victim does not die at his supper table, he dies soon after, and the method is noticed. My victim, a burly sheep rustler from Tygelt, sneezed, realized what I had done, screamed some gibberish about his family, and attacked. Arman subdued him and held him tightly while I watched him sicken. When it became clear death was inevitable, I gave him to Arman. Even my mistakes serve their purpose.
On the other hand, touching a minute piece of the web causes illness. Repeated contact makes the victim sicker, but the malaise is so general it can be mistaken for any number of things. The victims fortunate enough to survive these poisonings are released. In the land, my subjects speak of my mercy. I find it amusing.
It has been five months since I conceived. I think of the child, Jorani's child, growing within me, and I take great precautions in my work. Arman is most helpful in this. Since I determined soon after his rebirth that poisons no longer affect him, I don't even get close to my lethal concoc-tions. Instead, Arman mixes them and conducts experiments under my direction. I know he despises this work, but he has no choice. Soon, Peto will come to me. I'll be ready.
Baron Peto, accompanied by Lord Jorani, left for Nimbus Castle a week before the child was due. He deliberately spent some hours dining with the merchants and minor gentry in Pirie so that he would arrive at the castle late at night, when Ilsabet and the household were sleeping.
As soon as he'd settled into the same rooms he'd occupied for so long, he sent for his lieutenant.
Shaul had been awakened as soon as the baron had arrived. Washed and dressed in the black-and-gold livery, he appeared shortly after being summoned, standing at attention until Peto asked him to sit down.
"Your letters were as informative as I'd hoped," Peto commented. "I do need to ask a question, however. In your opinion, how did my wife govern in my absence?"
Shaul's eyes had been fixed on his master's. Now they shifted uneasily to focus on a crystal vase above the mantle. "I hardly know how to answer."
"Look at me and answer honestly. That's all I demand, and I expect you to obey."
Harsh words, gently spoken. Shaul tried to meet the baron's eyes, but failed again, not because he intended to lie but because he did not want to see the baron's expression when he told the truth.
"She governs by extremes, Baron. You will see dramatic changes in the castle. There are oil lamps in all the halls, a mosaic floor and crystal chandeliers in the great hall. There is also a bathing room in your chambers as there are in hers and Lord Jorani's with the hot water pumped from the kitchen as it is at home. She managed the changes in record time."
"She relished the hot baths at Shadow Castle. I'd expect her to be eager to have that work completed," Peto remarked.
"The mason overseeing the pipe fitting seemed to have had a huge opinion of himself and little inclination to finish on schedule. The baroness imprisoned his son. if he hadn't finished at the time he'd agreed to, she would have beheaded the boy."
"He finished on schedule, I presume."
"Three days early. She gave him three gold pieces for his diligence."
"Said diligence was hardly unexpected," Peto commented. He might not approve of Ilsabet's methods but they were certainly effective. "How do the people accept her?" he asked.
"The merchants and guildsmen love her because of the amount of money she has spent, the nobles because she shared the taxes on the merchants with them. The farmers and peasants go about their business without comment, as they do everywhere. The rebels and outlaws are quieter since we captured and imprisoned two dozen of their men, but I wrote you about that."
"Of course. Are they still in the castle?"
"Ten are. Three of the outlaws were recently executed as a reprisal for a raid on a caravan heading for Sundell. Five were found dead in their cells. Since they didn't die at the same time, we suspect plague rather than poison. Fortunately, the plague doesn't seem contagious. No one has died for over a week…"
Plague! Peto thought. Alarmed, he decided to move his child to the healthy climate of Sundell as soon after the delivery as possible.
"Six simply disappeared one at a time," Shaul continued. "Since everyone in this country seems related, I suspect that one of the Kislovan guards helped the men escape."
"I understand that some of the men's families have asked the guards to search for them."
"The search would be far easier to justify if we thought that the man wanted to be found, Baron," Shaul replied.
Peto considered what he'd learned earlier that night in Pirie. Over four dozen sheep had been killed in the last few months, their throats torn open. Three men had disappeared. The Pirie gathering blamed cats, goblins, werewolves, vampires, even the ghoulish remains of the dead rebel forces for the killings.
Cats had never been known to kill grown men. As for the goblins, Peto had seen-and smelled! — them often enough to know they weren't in the area. Peto discounted the other theories. Any sane man would.
"Send out a search party tomorrow," Peto ordered.
"You're contradicting Baroness Ilsabet's order?" Shaul asked carefully.
Shaul was right. Peto couldn't give the governing of Kislova over to his wife then return and not even consult with her before taking his rightful place as its ruler. "Thank you for reminding me. I'll meet with her first," he sai
d. "How were the outlaws executed?"
"They were burned at the stake just outside the castle walls. All the men of Pirie were ordered to attend." Shaul forced himself to continue, "I understand that such executions are common in this land, but I have never seen such a barbaric sight. You asked for my candor, and I give it. I don't think public tortures are fitting. The baroness may rule, but she does so in the name of Sundell."
"Thank you, Shaui. Is there anything else to report?"
"Only that she's adopted another Sundell custom. She has established her own company of private guards, the members pulled from the ranks of the Kislovan soldiers."
"A wise move. Is that all?"
Shaul hesitated, then added, "Their leader frightens me. I've never felt this way about a man before, but it's true. Arman never raises his voice to his men, yet they obey him without question. And his loyalty to the baroness is unwavering."
Peto chuckled to hide his concern. "She chose well," he said. "If you've nothing to add, go back to bed. We'll speak more tomorrow."
After Shaul had gone, Peto undressed, then went into the new addition to his rooms. The tub was large, the wood enclosing it beautifully carved and polished. The pipes were crude and stuck straight out of the wall with carved letters on the wall labeling hot and cold. A few blows to them resulted in a flow of hot water and soon after he lay in the tub, reveling in a luxury he hadn't expected to find here so soon. And she'd paid the man extra for finishing the work early. He found her tactic almost amusing.
In the morning, after a servant brought a plate of fruit and fresh-baked bread, Peto sent for his wife. She came just as he was finishing his meal, a red velvet dressing gown wrapped tightly around her body to keep out the chill. Though she was huge with child, her features were as exquisitely beautiful as before, even more so it seemed because she had a serenity and confidence about her that he'd never seen before.
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