“What’s going on here? I thought this job was about killing Dead-eyes.” Razmus half rose from his seat, but stopped when Aldric held up a hand.
“Calm down. It’s not a trick. I’m a magister of Menselas, of the Five, and a sorcerer. Sorcery can do things that priests marked by the gods can’t, and sometimes it’s needed.”
“You don’t look like any sorcerer I’ve ever seen,” said Razmus. “Your armor, that curved sword—a khopesh, isn’t it?”
“That’s part of what I do,” admitted Aldric. “Though truth be told, I’m not that proficient a fighter.”
He wasn’t going to reveal his Church’s secret: that thousands of years ago the khopesh had been forged from the metal of a fallen star, which was anathema to demons.
Priska laughed, a warm throaty sound. “An enforcer. You do the Church’s dirty work.”
“No,” said Aldric, a little too quickly. “My faith is peaceful. Some of us are healers. I’d rather heal people than fight Dead-eyes, but … I do as the Church asks of me. I believe in its work, in Menselas.”
All of a sudden, he didn’t feel like talking about sorcery any more, or his faith. He drained the rest of his beer and exited through the same door the big man had used. It led onto a paved path, with outhouses constructed of rough-sawn timbers to the left and a shoulder-high stack of logs straight ahead. He heard the thwack of an axe splitting wood.
Aldric skirted the logs and came across the hulking man, Stray Dog. He was stripped to the waist, dark skin exposed to the frigid air. He stood in front of an old, hardened stump. An axe was in one hand, but due to his bulk it looked almost like a hatchet. Split logs lay to either side.
The man glanced at Aldric, then buried the axe in the stump and tied back his dark mane of hair with a leather thong. His sweating torso was decorated with scars as well, though not nearly as many as on his arms. Some, Aldric noted, were puckered spots—puncture wounds—in places that should have proved fatal, which meant a priest must have healed him. Whoever this Stray Dog was, he’d fought and survived many battles, if only by the grace of one of the gods.
He pulled the axe out and circled the stump, making sure Aldric was in front of him. He’d moved closer to his weapons: two war axes resting against another pile of logs—single-bladed with a short spike on the back. They weren’t anything fancy and looked well-worn and cared for.
The man positioned a log on the stump, and the axe came down, splitting it neatly in two. He didn’t look at Aldric, just continued with his task. Aldric found a log to sit on.
“Can I help you with something?” Stray Dog said eventually. His voice was smooth and cultured, belying his appearance. He placed another log on the stump and chopped it in half. His movements were economical, and the log had split effortlessly.
“Not really,” Aldric said. “I’m just curious.”
“Curiosity can be dangerous,” the man said, his voice flat.
He gathered the log halves and split them into quarters. Aldric shrugged, watching as he easily lifted another log to the stump.
“Have you done much fighting?” he asked.
Stray Dog glanced at him sidelong, knowing Aldric could see his scars. “I try to avoid it. There are so many enemies out there, and, well, you can’t kill them all.”
Aldric nodded thoughtfully. “It would be foolish to try. Something a young man would do.”
Wood cracked, and more split logs joined the piles.
“We all do foolish things when we’re young,” Stray Dog said. “Sometimes they work out for the good, and sometimes not.”
That struck close to what Aldric himself believed. “We do the best we can.”
“That’s true.”
“Razmus said you’re called Stray Dog. That’s hardly a name.”
“It’s as good as any.”
Aldric shrugged. “I suppose so. Do you have another?”
“Nope.”
Stray Dog kept chopping logs, splitting the halves into smaller sections. Aldric felt comfortable with the man for some reason, far more than he did in Niklaus’s company. He scratched his chin. The man would be a good fit for the team. He was a warrior, that was certain. The Church seemed to know what it was doing.
Aldric stood, and Stray Dog paused, axe held high.
“How do you feel about our mission? About killing Dead-eyes?” Aldric asked.
The axe descended, splitting another log. “There’s no end to those creatures,” Stray Dog said, shaking his head. “They breed like rats. They’re quick too. If you’re not ready, they’ll be on you before you know it. But they die like any other animal.” He paused and scratched his arm. “Your star shows you’re from the Church.”
Aldric nodded. “Yes. I’m a magister of Menselas. Also joining us, from the Church of Sylva Kalisia, is another warrior named Niklaus. You would have seen him earlier when you carried firewood inside. We plan on leaving the day after tomorrow, once we’ve organized horses and gear.”
“Good. I’ve had about enough of this place.”
Aldric didn’t hide his satisfaction at the big man’s words. At least with him, he knew there wouldn’t be another agenda. “Is there anything you need?”
Stray Dog’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Food—the usual. I have my own camping gear. But … I have a request.”
Aldric rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t need any more complications. “What’s that?”
Stray Dog smiled. His teeth were small and white. “I do most of the cooking. These northerners are useless. Their food lacks taste.”
Aldric snorted in amusement. “You’ll get no argument from me.” His own culinary skills left a great deal to be desired.
Stray Dog returned to chopping firewood.
Aldric waited a few moments, then went back inside. To his surprise, another woman stood near the front door.
“Excuse me,” she said imperiously.
She wore a cloak, as if the warm room was too cold for her liking. Her brown hair was pulled back and tightly braided, the ends secured with a silver chain. Her pale skin and high cheekbones made her face look severe. As far as Aldric could tell, she wasn’t carrying a weapon.
“Yes?” he replied. He moved to take her arm and guide her outside, but she stepped away from him like an unbroken colt. He dropped his hand, not wanting to frighten her further.
“I heard you’re heading up north to one of the settlements,” she said.
As far as he was aware, the Churches hadn’t spread word about the mission. He didn’t know how this woman had heard about it, but it didn’t feel right to him. If she wanted to join their group, she wouldn’t get his agreement.
“We have all the people we need,” he said.
The woman raised her eyebrows. A faint line of irritation appeared between them. “Really?” she said. “I’m sure having one more along couldn’t hurt.”
“We don’t need anyone else. Now, if you’ll excuse us, this is a private residence.”
The woman’s hand shot out to snag his sleeve. He looked down at it and frowned. Her nails were impeccably manicured and painted a purple so dark it was almost black.
“I’m afraid I have to insist,” she said firmly. “You have a partner, do you not? He’ll agree to me accompanying you.”
Aldric removed her hand from his arm. “Will he now? Who are you? And why are you so keen on joining us?”
“I serve the Lady Sylva Kalisia. I want to see these poor settlers saved.”
Aldric cursed inwardly. The degenerate goddess again. Niklaus would get a few choice words for setting him up like this. But … the priestess had approached Aldric, not the mercenary. Could it be he didn’t know about her? He thought about Niklaus’s blunt manner. If he’d wanted this woman to join them, he would have just said so.
“Whatever’s going on, it’s between you and Niklaus,” Aldric said.
The woman showed no recognition of the name, but she didn’t look puzzled either.
“If he says
you’re coming,” Aldric continued, “so be it. I can’t do much about it. But don’t drag me into your games.”
The heat of the room suddenly felt stifling. He had a strong urge to take a walk in the cold air outside. He knew it wouldn’t look good, but he needed some time alone. And maybe to visit Soki.
He turned to Razmus and Priska. “I’ll be back later. We leave the day after tomorrow.”
The woman’s soft laughter followed him out the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Unpleasant Answers
THEY WERE STRANGE, THE feelings inside Kurio. Dread, terror, yet … she also felt drawn to Gannon. He was beautiful and seductive. And quite possibly evil.
He had to know it was she who’d broken into his house and discovered his secret. But even so, here he was, lounging at his ease at The White Rabbit, waiting for her to join him.
Kurio looked down from the mezzanine level, where she’d secreted herself. It hadn’t been much trouble to flit over the rooftops and find a way inside the building through a window in the attic. It seemed this level was closed to luncheon patrons; a red velvet rope barred people from ascending the stairs. So she was undisturbed, and the unlit booths were ideal places to conceal herself.
Gannon Chikaire occupied one of the tables in the center of the ground-floor dining room, a low-set, polished walnut affair surrounded on three sides by lounge chairs. He was dressed impeccably in charcoal gray pants and jacket, and a purple silk shirt fastened with pearl buttons. Apart from the ring on his finger, he wore no other jewelry. His boots were polished black, but weren’t dress boots; they looked comfortable and serviceable, out of place with the rest of his outfit. He picked up a glass filled with pale green liquid, leaned back, and sipped. From what she could see, his eyes remained on the entrance to the dining room.
Kurio’s heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t want to go down there. Yet … she had to. He knew where she lived, and she had no idea how. She’d thought about moving again, but knew it would be no use. She couldn’t hide from him. A shiver ran through her.
She checked her weapons and smoothed her clothes. Her crossbow she’d had to leave behind; it wasn’t something she could conceal under the dressy clothes she’d had to wear to the club. A few daggers would have to do.
At least if she was to confront him, it would be in a room full of patrons. Usually she preferred to do business discreetly, but in this case it was probably wise to meet in a public place. Every fiber of her wanted to run, but that was a quick way to end up dead for certain. There had to be a way out of this situation.
She descended the stairs and made her way toward Gannon. One of the servers noticed her and glided in her direction, a frown on his face.
“Ah, Kurio,” said Gannon when she was a few paces from him. His back was still to her, but somehow he’d been alerted to her presence. “I wasn’t sure you’d accept my invitation.”
The server hurried over and bowed obsequiously. “My apologies, sir, I don’t know who this woman is, but—”
“She will be joining me,” said Gannon, waving a hand at the server. “Please bring us a bottle of the Locyl-Sertral, something more than twenty years old.”
The alchemical wines from the Locyl-Sertral region were famous and among the most expensive. Kurio had a bottle she’d stolen stored in a dark place, to be opened in celebration of her earning enough to finally give up thieving.
She perched on the edge of the chair opposite Gannon. “There’s no need. I won’t be staying long.”
Gannon shook his head in disappointment. “Please reconsider, Kurio. We have much to talk about.” He turned to the server. “Bring the bottle.”
She kept her gaze on the tabletop, hands clenched in her lap to stop them trembling. She had visions of orange eyes and horned yellow skin. Bloody hells, I should never have taken the job for Willas. Well, too late now.
She cleared her throat. “I won’t tell anyone.” The words came out thinly, and she cursed herself for her weakness.
“Kurio, you wrong me.” Sorrow tinged his words. “But that’s not so surprising. People fear what they don’t understand. But I hope to persuade you that my intentions are good.”
Good? thought Kurio incredulously. Harboring demons and eating human flesh?
“You see,” continued Gannon, “I’m employed by the ruling council of Caronath to investigate certain anomalies. And the creatures you saw are part of this commission. Their … food source is supplied by the council from … unfortunate accidental deaths.”
“Really?” drawled Kurio.
Gannon flashed her a smile, and in spite of her misgivings, her heart skipped a beat.
“Truly. Everything is aboveboard. And although it may seem distasteful—”
That’s one word for it.
“—it is essential. I implore you to look beyond the superficial and trust that what we’re doing is for the benefit of all people. The creatures are part of a threat we’re investigating.”
He stopped as the server appeared bearing a blue-tinged glass bottle. The man turned the label for Gannon to examine, but he merely nodded and waved at him to be about his business. Soon there was a glass in front of each of them, half full of a sparkling blue wine. Kurio knew the bottle would have cost a small fortune. And people who cared little for coin were the most dangerous sort.
She concentrated on keeping her hand still as she reached for her glass. The liquid danced on her tongue, the flavor gorgeous and hard to describe. It brought forth one of the few happy memories from her childhood. She immediately quashed it. That part of her life was dead to her.
She considered what Gannon had told her. Either he was lying, or he was telling the truth. Either way, she was in trouble. She doubted the council would like a thief not under their control knowing what they were doing.
“However, what you saw is of no relevance now,” he continued. “The fell creatures were killed last night.”
Kurio gasped. Did Gannon think … “It wasn’t me,” she blurted.
“I know, Kurio. It was a coincidence, nothing more. Someone has brought forces to bear against me. Destroying my research is one part of their strategy.” He sighed, as if disappointed that anyone would oppose him. “They will regret their actions.”
“What is it you want from me?” Kurio said.
His blue eyes pierced hers. “Nothing onerous, I assure you. Indeed, it is my hope you will learn to enjoy it perhaps? You are … different. As am I. And to be different is a power of a sort, is it not?”
“I guess so.”
“It is,” Gannon said firmly. “And even among all the wonders of this world, I find people to be the most intriguing. You do not belong among the masses. In short, I would enjoy your company, if you were able to forgive the rocky start to our relationship. I can promise … adventure.”
Bloody hells, he was tempting her. And her nature meant she couldn’t just walk away, however much she wanted to. He was practically asking to woo her, and she found the prospect enticing. It had been a long time since she’d had any feelings for a man. Her last fling had lasted only a few weeks before she got cold feet and fled. But Gannon was something else entirely. She had a sense she’d never be bored with him.
She stood abruptly and drained her glass in a few gulps, as if it were cheap ale. She placed the empty glass back on the table. “Consider me intrigued, Gannon Chikaire. But I usually avoid polite society. A bad experience when I was young.”
“And it’s easy for you to avoid notice, isn’t it? It’s one of your talents.”
“It’s part of my job, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She’d had enough of this banter.
“Are you leaving so soon? Without eating? I understand. I rarely eat outside my home. You never know how the meat has been prepared. Do I have your permission to call upon you?”
Well, if he wanted her dead, she’d be a corpse floating in a canal by now. And her best option for finding out more of what was going on was from
the inside. Besides, he’d aroused her curiosity—and something else.
“I warn you, I’m dangerous,” she said.
“As are all beautiful things,” he replied.
Like yourself. “Very well. You have my permission to call upon me.”
“Excellent! I’m arranging something in a few days that you might find amusing. I’ll send word to your apartment. I’m unable to see you sooner, unfortunately. There’s something I have to deal with—a commotion around an ancient ruin that’s been found. A couple of the Churches have sent representatives to investigate.”
Nothing to do with her. “I’ll bid you good day, Gannon. I have business to attend to.”
He smiled knowingly, as if aware of her false excuse. “Until we meet again. Farewell.”
Kurio nodded and left, this time through the front entrance. It would take her an hour to walk back to her bolthole, and she could use the time to think. Was Gannon playing with her, as a cat did with a mouse?
One thing was for certain: she needed more information, whether to align herself with him, or to extricate herself from this mess.
~ ~ ~
Kurio returned to her bolthole to change clothes and clip her crossbow to her belt under her coat. She felt better having the weapon on her. A short time later, she scaled the wall surrounding the university and made her way through bushes before strolling nonchalantly along a worn track as if she belonged there.
The university was much as Kurio remembered it. Self-important students hurried along paved paths crossing a grassy courtyard surrounded by sandstone buildings. They clutched leather satchels filled with books and notepaper, and all of them spent more on clothes in one week than the average person spent in a few years. Education and knowledge, it seemed, were only for the rich.
In one corner of the courtyard, a tree dropped purple blossoms, so many the area underneath was completely covered. Kurio remembered slipping on them once and almost falling on her face.
One of the masters strolled by at a distinctly slower pace than the students. Her name was Roselin, if Kurio remembered correctly. Puffy-faced and always late to the classes she taught. Her specialty was alchemy, which, while interesting, and something Kurio had a few questions about, wasn’t the discipline of the master she was looking for.
Revenant Winds (The Tainted Cabal Book 1) Page 21