The dress added to the drama of the movement, made of something shiny, satin, perhaps. It caught light from both the candle and the moon, rippling like waves on a still, night pond.
Ghostly. That was the word that came to mind. She sat on the bed and crossed her ankles again, this time folding her hands in her lap and pulling her shoulders back as if posing.
Maybe she is. Maybe she’s trying to seduce me, flashing her big eyes in the false hope that it will save her life. Something told him he was wrong even before he’d finished the thought. I’ve got to stop thinking she’s like everyone else—she’s a fox, not a hen.
“Since you’re on the sill about me,” she said with a grin, “I’ll offer a defense and see if I can persuade you to grant clemency.”
“Knock yourself out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry…what?”
“Go ahead, state your case,” Royce said.
Nysa stared at him a moment longer, then used both hands to hook her hair behind her ears. Straightening up once more, she asked, “Did you know that the Dulgath family is the oldest continually ruling bloodline in Avryn?”
“That’s not likely to sway me. I’m not big on tradition.”
“It’s my life on the line. Grant me a little leniency.”
Royce shrugged and, expecting a long tale, curled up in the frame of the window. Putting his back against one side, he drew up his feet and placed them on the other.
“Let’s see.” Lady Dulgath tapped her chin and tilted her head toward the ceiling, as if she were trying to spot something very small or very far away. “About three thousand years ago—close to that—when the Great War ended and the Novronian Empire was born—”
Royce interrupted. “We really need to go back that far? Seriously?”
She ignored him. “Before the war, no one had ever come this far west. After the war, everyone did. A rush of people searched for fertile lands. Maranon was perfect. Mehan—the capital of Maranon—was originally the name of a prominent clan from that time. They were the first here and had taken the best fields. The latecomers went farther west. As you can see, we’re up against the ocean in this valley, so those who settled here were the late and undesirable—outcasts. They were led by a man named Dul. He was so poor he nearly starved to death and was so horribly thin people called him the Ghast. This would’ve been right about the same time that the first stones of Percepliquis were being laid. Dul the Ghast led a miserable band of about a hundred members of Clan Mehan to this valley, which they found beautiful and rich.”
“And they lived happily ever after,” Royce finished for her.
“Not at all. There’s a reason Dul the Ghast and his followers were undesirable—they were idiots.”
This made Royce smile.
Nysa returned the grin.
“They had no idea how to take care of themselves on the frontier. When they exhausted the supplies they’d brought, they found themselves in desperate need. Back then—this was before Novron died, before his cult grew—people worshiped spirits believed to exist in nature: trees, rocks, bears, that sort of thing. In desperation, Dul and his dying people began begging the spirits of nature to save them. Dul probably never expected anything to come of it, but what he didn’t know was that there really was a spirit dwelling in this valley, and the spirit heard him. Overnight everything changed, and that guardian spirit has watched over the House of Dulgath ever since.”
“Are you saying that’s why you’re not concerned? Because you have a magical guardian protecting you?”
“I guess you could say that, yes.”
Royce had no trouble believing her sincerity. Nobles and wealthy merchants were known to believe in ghosts and good luck charms. He once knew a silk merchant who had been convinced his dog of nineteen years was still alive. He would go down on one knee and pet thin air while making cooing noises at it. The odd thing was that his wife had died the same year as the dog—but she had never visited. A guardian spirit didn’t surprise Royce at all, and normally he would’ve accepted her story as another example of wishful stupidity, except…
Fox, not a hen.
“Okay, so that answers why you’re so relaxed. It doesn’t explain why everyone wants to kill you.”
“A few years ago, the Nyphron Church came for a visit. Five of their leading bishops were traveling from province to province, preaching to the noble families about the importance of restoring the faith of Novron. They came here and weren’t pleased that the Earl of Dulgath wasn’t receptive to their belief in restoring the old empire.”
The Earl of Dulgath? An odd way for her to refer to her father.
“They wanted his assurance that when the time came, he would cast his allegiance to an emperor of their choice. We’ve never worshiped Novron here. Even when we were part of the empire, we gave only lip service. This tiny valley has its own ways—old ways—and we’re set in them. Old Beadle told them that he wouldn’t cooperate.”
Old Beadle?
“The earl was a problem, a rock in their road. A big, unmovable stone. Sadly, he didn’t have the same life span as most rocks. When he died without a male heir—just a delicate, young, inexperienced girl—the church saw an opportunity.” She shook her head and sighed. “But alas, the countess was no more pliable than the earl. So in the intervening years they found someone more amenable. Lord Fawkes will allow them to pull his strings, all while thinking he is the one in control.” She shook her head again. “So foolish. Now the stage is set for the final act in their little drama, The Death of the Last Dulgath.”
“And none of this frightens you because you’re protected by the magical woodland spirit of the valley. Do I have that right?”
“You’re the expert on killings. You tell me. They’ve tried three times now. How hard can it be to kill a delicate young girl?”
Something in the sound of her voice—not arrogance, but confidence—disturbed Royce, like hearing a deer howl or a rabbit roar.
“An interesting tale, but I’m not persuaded. I’m no fan of the church or nobility. It doesn’t matter to me who rules. The lives of those at the lower rung remain unchanged. I’ve decided, and I’m going to tell them how I’d kill you. I want you to know that.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Of course, should that ivy be cut down and a sentry posted to patrol the yard, such a thing would be a lot harder. And if you locked your door and posted another guard outside it, anyone looking to end your life might be out of luck.”
“You’re not a very resourceful assassin, are you? I should think there would be cleverer ways than climbing in a window.”
“Simple plans work. Every moving part is a potential failure point. Besides…” Royce shrugged. “Not a lot of incentive in this job. I’m just here to get paid. That’s all that matters.”
“Is it?” she asked, getting up.
She stood before him with her weight on one hip, arms limp at her sides. She had a predatory stare in her eyes. Royce found his muscles tensing. The look was threatening.
Is she thinking of pushing me out the window? No, that look isn’t violent—it’s inviting.
He’d seen that stare before, usually on prostitutes working a room. Gwen’s girls donned that expression frequently, but none ever looked at him that way. They aimed their weapons at the loud and the drunk, the ones throwing money away like silver fountains. No one ever stared at Royce.
Nysa locked eyes with him and smiled, soft cheeks growing round.
“I think you’re curious,” she told him.
“About what?”
Not a shift, not a blink. “About me, certainly, but even more about you. I can see doubt in your eyes. You don’t want to believe what I said, but the truth is impossible to ignore. Your problem is that you’ve lived with lies your entire life. What choice was there? Everyone agrees that elves are dirty, worthless, lazy, ignorant vermin. In a world without a dissenting opinion, how could anyone expect to judge fairly? The questio
n before you isn’t, How could I be one of them? but rather, How could I have ever believed I was only a man?”
“What does the daughter of an earl know about elves?”
“I read a lot,” she said, then broke their contest and laughed.
She swirled, making the gown fan, and threw her head back. Gwen’s girls did that, too. Maybe Nysa was bad at it, or Royce was wrong about her intent, for the act was uncharacteristically awkward and filled with frustration and annoyance. In that instant, her guard dipped, and for the first time he felt he saw Nysa Dulgath, the woman behind the mask. The lady hadn’t planned it, but that slip succeeded where her previous efforts had failed. The truth was indeed hard to ignore. Royce decided he liked Nysa Dulgath, or at least he didn’t dislike her. She certainly was interesting.
She took a step toward him.
“Time for me to go.” Royce spun and threw his legs back out the window. “Don’t forget about the ivy. You need to get rid of it.”
“But I like ivy.”
“It can grow back.”
“And you? How will you visit me again if I tear it down?”
“I won’t. Goodbye, Lady Dulgath.”
Chapter Thirteen
Fawkes and Hounds
The trip back down the mountain was faster, as downhill trips always are. Even so, it was night when Hadrian and Scarlett Dodge reached the section of the trail where the pitch flattened to a mere slope and broadened wide enough for side-by-side travel. The moon was three-quarters full and cast a spray of silver pools where it penetrated the leaves. The light ran up and over their bodies as they waded through moonbeam puddles, and Hadrian kept stealing glances at Scarlett. At first he thought he was getting away with it. Still acting as a guide, Scarlett was focused on the trail ahead, but when he spotted her smile, he knew she’d caught him. He also knew she didn’t mind.
“So how did you end up in Dulgath—in Brecken Dale?” Hadrian asked.
“What do you care?” Her tone was both curt and cold.
Hadrian was surprised, then realized he shouldn’t have been. Royce had all but placed a knife to her throat. “Look, we got started wrong. You poisoned me, and Royce threatened to kill you—fact is, we’re not who you thought we were, and I have no idea who you are.”
“Probably best that way, don’t you think?”
“No—I don’t think that at all.”
She looked at him just as moonlight splashed her face. She had that puzzled squint he already recognized as one of her go-to expressions—at least the ones she used with him.
“But I’ll tell you what I do think. I think it’s easy to distrust someone you don’t know. If you’re ignorant of their past, you can’t understand their motivations, so you jump to conclusions, which are usually wrong. For example, I’m a really nice guy, but you probably hold a different opinion of me.”
“Yep—I think you’re an idiot.”
He smiled. “That’s just because you don’t know me. Once you do, you’ll discover I’m really only an imbecile.”
This made her laugh. He could tell she didn’t want to, and her frustration made the sound even sweeter.
“See, you can’t resist me. I’m like a dog that drops a ball at your feet.”
“Hadrian,” she said with a weary tone and a shake of her head. “I get it. You’re attracted to me. You’re trying to start something here—make me like you—but you’re only going to be around for a few days, and Wagner and I—we’re sort of a thing.”
“Wagner? The bartender? That old guy?”
“He owns Caldwell House, and he’s nice.”
Hadrian nodded slowly with a pushed-out lower lip.
“What?”
“Just seems a little old, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, most men worth something are. Boys tend to be lazy or have an overabundance of dreams; they’re always looking but never finding because they haven’t a clue what they really want.” She glared directly at him as she spoke. “Men like Wagner are past the stargazer stage. He understands the way the world is and makes the best of it.”
“Ah-huh.” Hadrian kept his eyes forward this time but felt her looking at him again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Wagner’s been good to me.”
“Didn’t say he wasn’t. Probably a great guy…when he’s not poisoning people.”
“I did that—and I didn’t poison you. I drugged you. If I’d used poison, you’d be dead.”
Hadrian nodded, giving in again. He shifted his short sword’s belt just off the hip, where it rubbed him. The hand-and-a-half sword always hung low, but he wore the short sword higher when he rode to keep it clear of his thigh. “You know, I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage. I was just curious about how a woman from Colnora ended up here. Seemed a bit strange to me, that’s all.”
They continued on in silence. The two split, going separate ways around a hawthorn tree that Hadrian was surprised he remembered from the trip up. Same thing had happened with a boulder earlier. Why is it I remember some things but not others? Why the tree and the boulder, but not that fallen log or that curve?
This was the sort of internal conversation he often expressed verbally with Royce, the kind that drove his partner nuts. But it wasn’t polite to travel with someone and not acknowledge them, so a little pointless conversation seemed reasonable. Rather than be irritated by the silence, Hadrian chose to—
“I ran into some trouble in Colnora,” Scarlett said.
Hadrian didn’t dare look over. He didn’t show any sign that he knew she was there.
“Royce was telling the truth about me being in the Black Diamond.” She paused.
Hadrian didn’t respond, didn’t want to sidetrack her into a discussion about Royce.
After a moment, she went on. “I grew up a farmer’s daughter and ran away to the big city because I had talent and wanted to act in the theater there. I was only fourteen—didn’t know women weren’t allowed to be actors. They laughed at me, told me to go home. I couldn’t do that. I’d watched my mother kill herself in silent misery. She’d cried herself to sleep at night. I wouldn’t do that—wouldn’t be that.
“I danced and sang on street corners for money. People liked me and dropped coppers in my hat. I thought I’d found a future, and I was so happy. Didn’t know about the Minstrel Guild and how ruthless people could be. Like I said, I was only fourteen.”
Hadrian risked a glance and discovered Scarlett wasn’t looking at him. Her sight was fixed on the shadows, a hard, pained expression on her face. “I was just a stupid little girl,” she said with a sneer of contempt, as if seeing herself and hating what she saw.
“The guild didn’t care that I was young and naïve. All they cared about was me cutting into their profits. Beat me bloody and split my lip. My eyes were so swollen I couldn’t see out of them for days. My left arm was broken, as well as the third finger on this hand.” She held it up as if she were showing off a ring. “Still a little crooked.” She grimaced and made a fist with that hand. “But that was all they did—could have been worse. If the Black Diamond found you cutting in on their territory, you’d be dead, not just broken, beaten, and left vomiting in a ditch. You see, the members of the Minstrel Guild pride themselves on being professional men, not predators and thugs. This was business, not pleasure. Nearly killing a stupid girl was just part of their job.
“Don’t know what I would’ve done after that if it hadn’t been for Chase. I wouldn’t have gone home, so I probably woulda died, I guess.”
“Who’s Chase?”
“Chase was an entertainer—a magician and actor.”
“Was he one of the men who—was he part of the guild?”
“No—which at the time surprised me, too, because Chase put on shows wherever he liked in the city. No one ever bothered him. Turned out they didn’t dare. He was part of a different guild—the Black Diamond.” She looked at him with a bitter smile Ha
drian didn’t understand. “His shows drew in crowds, big crowds. Everyone was fascinated and intent on watching his hands to see how he did the magic. Meanwhile sweepers—pickpockets—worked their own magic. Misdirection is the key, he’d always said. He pulled me out of that ditch and cleaned me up. Gave me food and a place to sleep. Had me sing and dance at his shows and taught me how to pick pockets and do magic. To him they were the same thing. He added me to his act and renamed me Dodge—Scarlett Dodge, the red-haired enchantress. He also sponsored my membership to the Diamond. Chase was a good man. Saved my life.”
“Was?”
“They killed him—Malachite and Jasper. This was five years ago. Hoyte was running things in the Diamond and fortifying his position as First Officer—which is sort of like a duke, the second most powerful member short of the Jewel himself, who’s essentially the king. And like any good duke, he was preoccupied with weeding out those not loyal to him. Most of us in the bottom ranks hated Hoyte. Chase was no different. He threw his loyalty to a new guy, a bucketman and rising star in the guild, who looked like he could replace Hoyte, but then everything changed.
“Hoyte cleaned house. The rising star went to Manzant, and Chase and a lot of others were found floating facedown in the Bernum River. I didn’t want to be next, so I ran. Went south.
“In Ratibor, I joined, of all things, a traveling minstrel show. I performed magic, and we fleeced our audiences just like in Colnora. Kept moving to avoid problems. In Swanwick, trouble caught us. I was arrested. Kept my hands because they had decided to send me to Manzant Prison. The salt mine always needs workers, and workers need hands. On the road south, I pulled one more magic act and got my chains off. Chase taught me that, too. One more way in which he saved my life. I ran west into the mountains.”
She slowed, then stopped. Scarlett stared at the shadowy path and then back at the black of the forest. “People here say a spirit haunts these woods and has protected the people in this valley for centuries.”
The Death of Dulgath Page 17