Baroness of Blood r-10

by Elaine Bergstrom

  The area outside Nimbus Castle was occupied with stalls of merchants selling produce and wares, and all were doing a lively business. Buyers and sellers alike recognized me and bowed respectfully as I passed, though they eyed my ripped and filthy garments strangely. I was the only tattered creature there. The booths were in pristine shape and the grounds around the castle manicured as I had never seen before. As I walked among them, I heard much chatter, but nothing about the terrible fog or the storm that had ended it. For all their interest, it might never have happened.

  Perhaps it hadn't, at least not to them.

  For the first time since Father died, I was terrified-certain if I mentioned my experience to anyone in Kislova, they would think me mad, or worse.

  walked through the open gates of Nimbus Castle, also bustling. The stablehands were leading away a pair of horses, and there were three others waiting to be tended to. The doors to the hall stood open, and I saw a flash of color on the stairs; someone going up. One of the guards on duty at the gates ran to me, fell to one knee, and without asking where I'd been, offered me his blue Kislova cloak. I accepted it graciously, letting him escort me up the stairs.

  "Such a terrible accident," the man said as we went.

  wanted to ask him what he meant but didn't dare. Fortunately, I didn't have to.

  "Shaul was a good soldier. Everyone who knew him is in shock," he continued. "Even though the body is being taken back to Sundell for burial, the guards hope you'll give permission for us to hold a ceremony here to honor him."

  At any other time, I might have been furious at the suggestion of honoring a soldier from Sundell. Now I was only perplexed. "Tomorrow morning," I said.

  And what of the baron? I wondered, but dared not ask. Instead I hid my growing discomfort and walked into the room where Peto had died.

  General Raimundi and some of the Pirie merchants were sitting at Peto's bedside, conferring with Jorani. I dismissed the guard and paused just inside the door. The men were discussing improvements that needed to be done in the city, as well as additions to the wharf that served the castle. Often they addressed Jorani, but sometimes they seemed to be speaking to Peto as if he could hear and understand, as if he were still alive.

  Jorani noticed me first. He stopped speaking in midsentence and walked toward me, his expression as concerned and confused as the guard's had been.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  I nodded. Until I determined precisely what was going on, the best course seemed to be deceit. "I

  went down to inspect the wharf. The pilings were slippery. I fell in. The current caught my gown. I nearly drowned." I looked at Jorani's face as I spoke, pleased to see the same dullness I had noted in Emory's eyes, the same dumb adoration. Though I regretted what had happened to him, at least one thing remained the same since last night.

  I walked forward to the bed. Though Peto was as motionless as if he were dead, there was no trace of blood on his bedclothes, nor any sign of the wound Jorani had made. I moved closer. Peto's eyes opened, and he looked at me. I saw the horror in their depths.

  "He seems much improved," one of the merchants commented.

  "So he does," I said. I dismissed everyone and sat at Peto's side.

  "It's a trick," I whispered to myself. "Another vision of the Seer's, or a dream. I'm still on the river-bank, still curled against that cursed rock, riding out the storm. That's the reality, while this…"

  Though I swear Peto's expression did not change, I sensed some grim humor in him, as if he enjoyed my confusion. "You know what happened," I whispered. "You remember."

  With an effort, he managed to nod, then shut his eyes again.

  "And the merchant is right, you are much improved." I wanted to laugh, but the sound would not have been one of mirth, or triumph, but of hysteria. "Too much so. If you think the Seer saved your life, I can tell you she's only condemned you to a second, more painful death. Think about that until I return."

  I went to my chambers, bathed and dressed as befitted my station, and sought out Jorani.

  I found him in his tower rooms, lying faceup on the hard pallet he had always used as a bed. Though his eyes were open, he did not look toward me when his hawks screeched a warning. I sat beside him and bent down to kiss him. He turned his head away.

  "Do you really think it fitting to love your slave?"

  "And if I ordered you to lie with me?" I replied.

  "I would do as you command. Is that what you want?"

  There was no emotion in his voice, and I knew the man I had loved was as dead to me as Father.

  "No," I said, and looked away. I wondered if I would ever look at him without thinking of all I had lost with his death. "What do you remember from last night?"

  "Returning from Argentine in the fog. Giving the potion to the baron. And I remember…" He hesitated, finishing with a tone of wonder. "… dying. You brought me back. Then you ran away into the fog. Why, Ilsabet?"

  "To find Lekai."

  "Lekai is in Sundell. You sent him there yourself two days ago."

  I began to understand the depth of the Seer's power. "And what do you recall of Peto last night?"

  "Just the potion."

  "Nothing else?"

  "Blood. But that must have been a dream. He's still alive; it must have been."

  He spoke so earnestly, I could only reply that, yes, it was a dream, nothing more.

  We ate an early dinner with the merchants who had been at Peto's bedside that morning. I was pleased to see Jorani eating; this meant he was like Emory, well in control of his needs. By the time we'd finished, it was near dusk, and fog was rising from the river.

  "We'd best leave for Pirie while we can," one of the men said.

  "Of course," I replied. "But return in the morning, and we'll talk further about trade with Sundell."

  I walked outside with them, then left them with Jorani and went to bed.

  In spite of all I'd been through, I could not sleep. Peto was alive, and as long as he remained so, I would rule beneath him. I considered my options and decided on an immediate course. I left my chamber doors open, listening until I heard the servant who tended Peto leave him for the night.

  I lit the lamp in my room and went next door to the room where Greta had slept. Her clothes were still in the cupboard, and I pulled a servant's sash from a drawer. Hiding it in my dark robe, I walked softly to Peto's chambers. I lit the candle beside his bed, sat there, and took his hand. "Lekai isn't in Sundell. You know that as well as I do. I'll find him, Peto. I'll bring him back and raise him. That's my final promise to you."

  I held up the sash. "There are spies everywhere," I said, then dropped it across his chest.

  I kissed him one more time, then took his sword from its place on the table beside his sickbed. It was heavy, but I had enough strength to lift it, to hold it above him, to stab down into his chest.

  I saw him wince, but his eyes stared at me, condemning me. With a stifled cry of rage, I lifted the sword again and brought it down, separating his head from his body as he had done to my father only three years before.

  "Let's see if Sagesse can bring you back now," I whispered, then laid the sash in his hand and left him.

  Safe in my own chambers, I lit an oil lamp, carefully washed the few drops of blood from my robe, and got ready for bed. When I turned to blow out the light, I saw fog leaking through cracks in the shutters, as if it were smoke, not vapor. It must have been as thick as the night before, but I dared not open the window, fearful of what creatures I might let inside. Instead, I lay curled in a tight ball, too frightened to sleep.

  I missed Greta, Sagra, the man Jorani had been. But most of all, I missed my son. I had never felt so alone. My only comfort was the thought that tomorrow, when the merchants returned from Pirie, they would find my husband dead, a servant's sash clutched in his hand. There are assassins everywhere. It would take months to find the culprit.

  I lay in bed until late the following morning
, waiting for someone to come and tell me my husband had been killed. Eventually one of the maids did knock politely on my door and ask if I needed any assistance. I sent her away and dressed quickly in my best blue morning gown.

  The merchants were already in the room with Peto, hovering around the bed. Jorani was with them. I heard him explaining dryly how the additional docks should be built. I paid little heed to his words, walking forward on legs scarcely able to hold me.

  There was no blood on the bed or the floor or the sword, now lying in its usual place on the table. Peto, his body propped up by a dozen feather pillows, sat looking at the men. When he saw me, he even managed a smile.

  I dreamt that I killed him, what else could explain this? I walked forward and saw the brown sash just visible on the floor.

  As I bent down to kiss his cheek, it occurred to me that this facade would go on and on for the rest of our lives. I would never be rid of him, would forever rule beneath him. That was the curse Sagesse had left me.

  EPILOGUE

  From the Diary of Baroness Ilsabet

  The soldiers taking Shaul's body back to his family in Sundell never crossed the border. A mile from it, they encountered a fog thicker than any they had ever experienced, rising in the heat of the midafter-noon sun. That alone would have made them suspect sorcery. When the horses refused to enter it and the men who did were filled with fear, they retreated and returned to Nimbus Castle. I questioned them, but they said little. The fear I sensed in them made it clear the Seer's curse has not ended.

  My soldiers burned Shaul's body that night. I watched the flames devour him, staying until his bones were no more than dust among the embers.

  Even the fire couldn't diminish the thick night fog, though its smoke added a new denseness to it. I walked through it to the castle and up the stairs to my room, where servants had already closed and barred the shutters against the horrors of the night.

  Now I rule a cursed land, a land much changed from the days of my father, a land isolated from its neighbors, utterly alone. Each night the fog covers it. My subjects close their doors and build up their fires in even the hottest weather, for there are creatures walking in the fog that had never before lived in Kislova, save in legends.

  They speak of wights, of vampires and werewolves. And in the fog's thick shroud, even the dead walk. Arman and Emory have been seen feasting on sheep in the hills, the rebels of Pirie pace the deserted wharfs, and Sagesse's ghost has been glimpsed in the streets of Tygelt, filling the entire land with fear.

  But in the daylight when I ride among my subjects with Jorani at my side, they cheer. They are unaware that I am the cause of all their terror, and that I am watching them, choosing my next victim with care.

  Like Jorani and Arman before, I must feed-not on blood but on pain and despair. I take my victims to the room where Peto died and lives again. I let him witness each torture, watch Jorani's final kill.

  Sometimes I think Jorani remembers killing my husband, but if he does, he keeps the memory to himself.

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