by H. A. Harvey
Karen very nearly snapped back at the surly Dracis, but a stern look from Gerizim gave her pause. She eyed Ebal’s plate nervously.
“Perhaps,” Karen said carefully, spacing her words around holding back bile, “I should eat in my quarters and leave you two to catch up?”
“Sit down!” Ebal roared and Karen found herself scuttling into the seat by the door. “There, a slave that can follow at least one order isn’t beyond hope.”
The two brothers sat opposite each other; Ebal on Karen’s right and the captain at her left. Karen busied herself cutting into the flank, dividing off a thick hunk of meat and slicing thin strips out of that, then cubing them into tiny bites. She didn’t think she could eat, but murdering the meat served as a decent replacement for the captain’s brother, and also gave her excuse to keep her eyes down and off the mass of raw flesh.
“Ebal is Lord-General of Kadisvale, Raven.” Karen heard Gerizim’s voice, but didn’t dare look up from her plate. “He is here to review tha progress of our cavalry, and take an advanced force out of the better students.”
Karen paused. Then Ebal was Gerizim’s superior. She hoped that she didn’t pale visibly as it occurred to her that, if the captain had the unflinching obedience he expected and received from his men, he would send her along with the general if he were ordered to do so. She also realized that this brother was definitely the one she didn’t want to press. Her mind ventured to Sergeant Jonas’ reference to Gerizim being ‘gentle’ with her. Karen also guessed that Ebal knew she had been their riding instructor, if he were half as well-informed as his brother. She set her fork and knife down.
“May I speak?”
“There, you see? A firm hand will bring manners out of a boar.” Ebal gloated after swallowing a mouthful of flesh. “You’ll look at me when you do so, slave.”
Karen’s fingers lightly touched the handle of her knife. No one had called her a slave since she’d arrived in the keep. She contemplated her chances of springing on Ebal unaware with the knife. She decided she liked her chances of getting even one good stab in only slightly better than the flimsy blade’s odds of piercing his thick, scaled hide. Instead, she pressed the flat of her palms against the table and braced herself before looking at the general. He had just finished slicing a thick peel off the large heart and levered it up to his mouth on the tip of his fork. Karen fought the urge to gasp in a breath, assuring herself that it would worsen the situation.
“They aren’t ready,” Karen finally managed, “Even the best of the soldiers are barely suited to a vigorous ride. Tyrian cavalry would run circles around them; especially the king’s dragoons. It’s said they live with their horses. They would be more use here. They make it easier to explain things to the ones that still barely balance in the saddle.”
“You’ll just have to work harder. I’m taking tha destriers and fifty of tha best riders.” General Ebal waved dismissively. “Tyrian cavalry might still be more agile, but our riders will be all but invincible behind heavy plate armor forged from Baedic steel.”
Karen could think of nothing else to say. She dropped her gaze back to her plate and stirred the bites about idly. She’d been wrong in her arguments against Ourei after all. She had thought it harmless to teach them the little she knew about riding. Karen might be Tyrian, but she was hardly any sort of champion equestrian. But as she’d been teaching them about horses, her lessons with the captain and select members of his guard had been teaching her a thing or two about weaponry and metals.
There was steel in Tyre, mostly among nobles and elite troop armaments, but even some chains and locks in Longmyst were steel. Sergeant Jonas had laughed when she’d made the observation and demonstrated that there were different qualities of steel. He’d produced a dark blade captured from the guardsmen of Ourei’s father and his own bright Kadiran longsword from his hip. Striking the two swords together with even a little force, his blade left a chip in the Tyrian blade almost half an inch deep while remaining unmarked itself. Jonas had gone on to lay the Tyrian sword across a pair of stools and stomp on it, snapping the blade into three pieces, but doing the same to his sword bent it nearly in two, only to spring back to its original shape when he lifted his iron-shod foot. The Kadis cavalry wouldn’t have to out-maneuver their Tyrian foes. On the mighty destriers, they would be a mobile siege weapon. All they would have to do is keep in the saddle and efforts to stop them would be as futile as resisting a landslide of iron boulders.
“Eat.” Ebal commanded, “That is stone drake, fresh-slain this afternoon. I even took tha trouble to have the chefs char it for my brother’s softening human palate.”
“Stone drake?” Karen stirred the bites on her plate. She found keeping her face near to the cooked meat could half-trick her senses into mingling the blood scent with that of her cooked portion. The effect was similar to rare beef, a favorite of Karen’s that she felt quite certain she wouldn’t partake of in the future. “Aren’t they large, and dangerous?”
“As big as one of your destriers,” Ebal agreed, “But they come with their own barding and six limbs sporting claws like steel daggers.”
“Ebal only eats what he kills himself, and prefers dangerous prey.” Gerizim explained, “And Dracis do not customarily cook food, at least not in Frosthold.”
Ebal pointed a fork laden with another chunk of heart-meat at his brother, letting three great drops of dark blood fall on the stone table. “That’s right. Tha Aris girl you brought back from tha Gold Coast got you started on burning all tha blood out of your meat.”
“Aris?” Karen blinked at the captain in surprise.
Gerizim set down his utensils; an untouched chunk of steak still skewered on the fork. He glared across the table at his brother for a moment before looking at Karen. “Aris is another bloodline among the Dracis, they were gifted with wings from the Dragon Lords instead of fire. Her name was Theascine, and she was close to your age when Ebal and I finished our service in the imperial legions. The folk within the empire are more integrated than out here in the tribute kingdoms. Despite being stronger than either of us, as is often the case with Dracis women, she was an artist more than a warrior.”
Though it drew her gaze over Ebal’s disturbing repast again, Karen turned to look at the paintings and tapestry adorning the walls of Gerizim’s bedchamber.
“Theascine was your wife.” Karen murmured in realization, “She must have done all of those before she fell ill.”
Karen gave a start as a loud crash of cracking stone snapped her attention back to the table. Gerizim was on his feet, his fists planted on the table between her seat and his own, each having smashed their own crater in the smooth surface of polished granite. A corner of the table had broken off next to Gerizim’s right fist and narrowly missed crushing her foot. Ebal sat chewing a bit of gristly meat with what Karen felt sure was a smug look on his face.
“How did you hear that?” The captain demanded with a low growl.
Karen shrank in her chair, realizing that she had slipped and revealed more knowledge of Gerizim’s family than he had revealed to her. Not only that, but it seemed the subject of his wife, especially her fate, was off limits. Ebal hadn’t lowered his guard and grown civil after all. He’d been jabbing his brother and trying to get her to upset him . . . and she’d played exactly as he’d expected. She decided it was best to limit damage to herself and leave Jonas out of things.
“Ah, one of the soldiers said something, I think, during training.” Karen dredged her mind for a safe scapegoat, “I’m still learning all their faces. I think it was Owens?”
Gerizim glowered at Karen. Owens was dead. He had been a bit of an ass, not to mention loud. Horses had a good sense about people and even warhorses don’t like loud with no reason to it. One of the chargers had given him a hoof to the head yesterday to quiet him down. The man’s helmet had resisted the beast’s hoof and saved his skull, but his neck h
ad snapped like a twig.
“Take your plate and return to your quarters.” The captain finally grumbled.
Karen was pretty sure she didn’t want to eat, but felt that room for argument was nonexistent. She stood and gave a small nod as she picked up her plate and steel tableware before backing toward the door. Mostly, she was grateful that she hadn’t been attacked, and maybe Corina would like some meat, with a side of meat. Karen paused as she lifted the latch on the door, turning back slightly.
“Lady Ourei wished me to ask your permission to dine with her tomorrow night.”
“Yes!” Ebal waved, “Dine with that feathered strumpet and leave us in peace. I still say we should leverage tha girl against her mother’s royal cousin instead of trading tha wench to the Baron’s mage.”
Gerizim eyed Karen angrily for a moment, before he grumbled, “We will see, now go.”
Karen nodded and quickly stepped out into the hallway. She scuttled to the closest window and leaned out to catch her breath. The fresh, cold mountain air helped beat back the hot stench of drake blood and settle her stomach. She leaned against the stone wall for several minutes as she traded clean, cool breaths for the tainted air in her lungs.
As she rested, her eyes drifted over the city, or half of it anyway. The window faced the same view as the captain’s balcony, but the corner building that housed the captain’s quarters blocked the barracks side of the panorama. She marveled again at the quiet beauty of Kadis. The scene looked remarkably like the captain’s tapestry, only the angle was off. Of course, Theascine had wings, it was higher, but not much higher. Karen leaned out of the window a bit, curious if she could spy the artist’s vantage point.
The thick wall made it difficult to see directly up the side of the keep. Karen couldn’t see far enough to take a guess at Theascine’s roost. However, she did spy something that caught her eye. Across the reddening sky, a dark, winged figure swept out from the keep toward the Kadis markets.
Though she hadn’t been cursed with seeing him again since her arrival, Karen quickly recognized the scarred Falon vizier that had taken Kelly. That meant the rear of the keep where her friend was held would be nearly vacant, save perhaps for that Fae, and that was fine with Karen. She’d wanted to punch that snooty bitch in the face as soon as she’d laid eyes on her. A better thought occurred to Karen and she set her plate down on the window ledge, picking up the knife before she hurried softly through the corridors toward the rear of the keep.
The Dracis gown’s armored under-belt left a convenient fold between cloth and armor where she could stow the knife away from view without risk of cutting herself. She half-wondered if that were part of the designer’s intent, though it seemed a little silly. Any blade small enough to fit in the fold would probably break on the first stab in the hands of a Dracis woman. She would be better off with raw strength and her claws. Still, it suited her purpose.
Karen made her way stealthily at first, cursing the plated sides of her dress for their clicks and scratching sounds. She hardly noticed them normally, but trying to be quiet, they sounded to her like combatants on the training field. Karen considered returning to her room to change, but all the clothes had a good deal of metal worked into them. Besides, she wasn’t certain how long Tyvus would be gone, nor how much she could trust Corina to keep quiet. Though she did suddenly realize that she shouldn’t be slinking about just yet. She had blessing to move about most of the keep as long as she didn’t have duties to see to. Karen straightened up and strolled on as casually as her nerves would allow. Her change was none too soon, as a pair of guardsmen rounded the corner ahead of her on their patrol through the keep’s upper levels.
One of the guardsmen, a youth who was about her age, smiled at her. Karen smiled back and nodded as she stood aside for them, praying he didn’t stop to talk to her. The young man looked like he was considering doing just that, but his companion gave him a warning nudge and they continued on past, though the youth ventured another glance over his shoulder before they rounded another corner. Karen had gotten used to, even started to like, the attention Brenna’s outfits seemed to get her, but right now she could kill for a frumpy servant’s dress.
Karen hurried on, passing another patrol as well as a slave toting a bundle of soiled linens before she reached the corner leading to the rear wing of the keep. Peering pensively around the corner, Karen saw two guardsmen in full armor guarding the heavy double doors that marked the entrance. She leaned back against the cold stone and tried to think. She was good enough to take two soldiers in training now, but all she had was a dinner knife and these were guardsmen hand-picked by Gerizim and likely far from rookies. Well, maybe not, he didn’t seem to like Tyvus much. Still, even if she fought through them without being mortally wounded, the jig would be up. From that point, her only play would be to find Kelly in one sweep of the wing and make a dash for freedom.
They weren’t ready for that. Even if she found Kelly, there was no way to say she’d be in any condition to move, let alone travel. Karen also had no idea where Ourei’s father was being held. She had to find some other way past them.
As Karen was struggling to think of a way to distract the guards, she heard a woman’s shrill voice chastising someone behind her. Looking back, she saw the Fae baroness back into the corridor where Karen had come from. The vicious little noble was hurling things in her hands at someone behind her as she shrieked in a language with which Karen was unacquainted and stomped in rage.
Several young men trailed hesitantly after her, one scooping what looked like broken bits of ceramic dishes off the ground. Though the men’s focus was on their mistress’ tantrum, the party looked to be heading her way. Trapped between the baroness and the door guards, Karen cast about desperately for some niche in which to hide. Her gaze finally drifted upward, to the heavy rafters in the shadows near the ceiling. The beams dangled at least eight, perhaps nine feet overhead and well out of reach.
Karen thought back to her outings in Lone Wood. She’d been a rather spry tree climber as a girl. Of course, she’d always been in boots and trousers instead of a dress and the worked stone was hardly tree bark. Still, she was in better shape than she’d ever been, and didn’t see much choice. Karen darted across the corridor and sprang at the wall. A few scuttling steps against the wall gave her enough height to hurl her fingers around a beam and swing up. She was never so grateful for the slit gowns Dracis seemed to favor, though she was rather certain she’d torn it higher than designed in her acrobatics. At the last moment, Karen remembered the mail sides of her dress and froze hovering over the rafter, lowering herself softly to lay along the thick beam as the entourage approached beneath her.
“You!” The baroness called loudly at the guards as she rounded the corner, “Open up, lazy wenches! I’ve need to speak with Tyvus.”
Of course, women! Karen remembered Gerizim had ordered all his men to keep clear of the baroness. She wanted to chuckle at the literal observation of his order as she crept along the rafters, holding one arm wrapped around her ribs to keep her dress from making noise.
“Tha vizier is out, Ladyship.”
The guard answered evenly, though she projected loud enough Karen could have heard her clearly at a dozen paces or more further back. Despite the absence of the baroness’ purpose for visiting, the guard hauled open one of the heavy double doors. The baroness swiped her hand at the guard angrily and Karen gave a start as a blast of wind blew out the torch across from the door and hurled the guard against the wall next to her post. Luckily for Karen, the guard’s clattering plate was more than loud enough to cover her own slip.
“Why tha blazes open tha door if I’m not going in?” The duchess snapped, “Where did he go?”
“He didn’t say, Your Ladyship.” The second guard said as she stepped between the duchess and her fallen companion. “But he was muttering about animal bits. He must be headed to tha outer markets. It’s
tha only place to find hunters plyin’ trade.”
The baroness huffed and turned on her heels, followed closely by her collection of lackeys. Karen saw her opportunity as the standing guard turned to help her watch-mate back to her feet. She darted forward and dropped between the backs of the two parties, trusting the door to block the dazed vision of the fallen guard. Landing on the stone was less forgiving than the soft forest floor she was used to. Karen’s ankle took a sharp turn and sent her stumbling into the hallway. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she sprawled onto the floor.
Hoping the guards’ own mail masked the scuffling of her gown’s decorative plates, Karen quickly looked around. She found herself in a large foyer that extended up to the second story of the keep. The statue of a rearing drake stood glaring at the doors Karen had just crossed through. She scurried behind the statue’s base as she heard the guards returning to their posts. As the door swung closed, Karen looked around the foyer.
To either side of the statue’s rear haunches, a set of straight stairs ran up to a stone balcony that skirted the foyer, with doors centered in three of the walls. The wall facing the drake statue had an oversized shield emblazoned with the stylized figure of a drake’s head. The entirety of the foyer had a distinct air of neglect. Cobwebs and dust covered most of the foyer, as well as both of the corridors to either side. The only places that seemed to see frequent traffic were the path straight back from behind the drake and the stairwell to the left.
The whole place was devoid of life, but somehow seemed anything but empty. The air was heavy and hugged close around her, and Karen had the distinct feeling that she was not alone. She felt a leering, hateful gaze on her as though shadowed figures lined the balcony’s railing and glared at the intruder. The sensation made her skin crawl, and felt at once like the lustful gaze of odious men, hateful envy, and the hungry leering of some cold, deadly predator. It took several moments of searching her peripheral vision before she was at least half-convinced that she imagined the eyes on her. Whether or not there were invisible sentries, Karen decided there wasn’t much she could do about it now. She needed to get started in her search.