Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Oh, very well,” snapped Suel. “You may approach, but if you think you are going to whisk one of my ladies into the shadows for some hanky-panky, you are grossly mistaken, sir.”

  For once, Meuhlnir didn’t rise to her baiting. He approached, his head down, hands grasped behind his back.

  “Oh, bother,” said Suel. “What has happened that has brought the mighty Meuhlnir so low?” Her tone was bantering, but it had that peculiar ring that Yowrnsaxa had begun to think of as Suel’s warning bell.

  Meuhlnir stopped several feet away and bowed. “Thank you for seeing me, my Queen.”

  Suel twirled her fingers impatiently.

  “I wanted to speak with you about the events of this afternoon, your Grace,” said Meuhlnir.

  Suel’s face went blank. “Come to chide me, eh?” she asked in her sweet voice that was like a claxon of eminent danger.

  Yowrnsaxa cringed.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, my Queen. I am concerned is all.”

  The queen put her hand flat on her chest. “Concerned for little me?”

  “Yes, your Grace. The events of this afternoon seem…” He again let his voice trail away to nothing with the same hurt tone.

  “Yes?” asked Suel in a flat voice.

  “It’s just that it doesn’t seem like you,” muttered Meuhlnir, his eyes scanning the circle of Trohtninkar Tumuhr surrounding them.

  “Oh? Didn’t I do all that? Was it some imposter?”

  Yowrnsaxa cringed and tried to catch Meuhlnir’s eye, but he only had eyes for the queen. He seemed oblivious to the hidden threat in the queen’s voice and posture.

  “Your Majesty, is there something I can do for you?” Meuhlnir asked, his concern for the queen evident in his voice.

  Queen Suel softened a little and looked him in the eye. “I assure you, friend Meuhlnir, that I am fit in mind and body and that the only thing that has been bothering me is a certain…how shall I put it? A certain lack of respect for the crown of late. In courtesans and in others.”

  Meuhlnir nodded. “I haven’t noticed, your Grace, but I assure you I will vigilantly watch for such disrespect. No one will disrespect you in my presence.”

  Suel put her hand on his arm, but the expression on her face was distrusting.

  “Please rely on me, your Majesty. Allow me to deal with anyone who annoys you.”

  The queen’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then Luka and Vowli strode into the gardens without so much as a by-your-leave.

  Luka laughed and swatted Meuhlnir’s shoulder. “Stick to guarding the queen, brother. Leave the politics to those who understand them.”

  Meuhlnir’s face knotted in irritation. “Please, your Grace.”

  “I can handle my own problems, Meuhlnir,” said the queen, her voice as cold as arctic wind. Her hand left his arm. She held her arms out to Vowli and Luka, putting one arm around each man’s waist when they came to stand by her side. Her eyes were like the space between stars—cold and empty.

  Yowrnsaxa took a step back and put her plate down on the table. She was not going to stand idly by and let Meuhlnir be hurt as Syurd had been. She didn’t care what Suel did to her afterwards.

  “Your Majesty, can I call for a healer to speak with you?” asked Meuhlnir in a formal tone of voice.

  “Whatever for?” asked Suel in that dead voice she had been using so much.

  “For whatever has caused you such stress, such discomfort, to drive you to actions like those of the afternoon.”

  The queen stared at him for a long moment, and the atmosphere seemed to crackle with tension. Yowrnsaxa took a step closer to Meuhlnir and saw the queen glance at her in irritation. “I’ve told you that I am fine. You persist. I’ve told you I can handle my own problems. You push on. What do I have to do, Meuhlnir?”

  “Your Majesty, it’s just that this all seems so unlike the benevolent queen we’ve all dedicated our lives to,” said Meuhlnir. He straightened his shoulders and met her glare with a calm expression.

  Yowrnsaxa cringed and prepared herself to come to Meuhlnir’s aid if need be.

  “Ah, here’s the heart of it,” muttered Suel. She dropped her arms from the waists of Luka and Vowli and took a step forward, almost as close to Meuhlnir as she had been to Toemari Ryehtliti earlier that day. “I am sorry to so disappoint you. I am sorry if I don’t fit in to the pretty picture of Queen Suel that you have painted in your head, Meuhlnir. Things have changed. Get used to the new me,” said the queen with venom in her voice.

  Meuhlnir’s shoulders slumped, and he seemed to deflate. “Oh, your Majesty, I’m sorry to cause you upset,” he said.

  Suel stared at him blankly.

  Meuhlnir hung his head. “I don’t mean to overstep.”

  Suel stood still for a moment, and two expressions flitted across her face in rapid succession. The first was irritation. The second was boredom. Then her face froze in that blank rictus she had adopted so often of late. “You do, in fact, overstep. You are not my lover. You are not my brother. You are not my father. You have no right to…to…”

  “You have no right to interfere in the queen’s business,” said Vowli.

  Suel nodded her head.

  Meuhlnir sighed. “I don’t mean to be interfering, your Majesty. It’s just that I care about you, your Grace. I want you to be happy.”

  Suel sneered down at the hammer she had given him after the assassination attempt that had taken place in these very gardens. She flicked it with a finger and set it swinging. “Don’t presume that because I once honored you for bravery that you may speak to me thus,” she said, and her voice was so cold it could have flash-frozen the sea.

  “I apologize, your Majesty,” said Meuhlnir. “You used to value my advice.” He had a sick look in his eyes, but it wasn’t fearful. It was mournful.

  “No. No more talking from you, Meuhlnir. You are always talking, talking, talking. You will now shut up and listen to me.” The queen’s eyes blazed like firebrands. “Do not presume that you know me. Do not presume to lecture me on how I behave. Do not presume that your opinions hold weight in my decisions. I am your Queen, and you will show me the respect the crown deserves.”

  Meuhlnir stood before her as a small child stands before a parent during a tongue lashing. Yowrnsaxa longed to go to his side and comfort him, but after everything that had happened that day, she knew better than to oppose the queen. Unless she grew violent again.

  “Too long, I’ve let you be overly familiar. Too many times, I’ve overlooked your disrespectful actions toward me—pedantically lecturing me on manners, patronizingly ‘teaching’ me about strenkir af krafti, about becoming vefari. From now on, you will show the proper respect. You’d be wise to remember what happens to those who do not.” With that, Queen Suel turned her back on him, her long blonde hair brushing across his chest as she spun.

  Meuhlnir stood there, staring after her for a moment, and then dropped his eyes, looking at nothing, saying and doing nothing.

  “She’s done with you, brother. You should go back to your actual duties now.”

  Meuhlnir raised his head to look Luka in the eye. His face was full of pain. He spun on his heel and walked toward the archway that led toward the barracks.

  “I should have given that hammer to you, Luka,” said the queen with the pretense of confidential tones, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she laughed in a mean-spirited way that made Yowrnsaxa want to scratch her eyes out.

  Meuhlnir stiffened as he heard the barb. Then his shoulders fell, and he walked on, a picture of dejection and loss. He looked as if she couldn’t have hurt him more if she had gouged his eye out instead of giving him a tongue lashing.

  As he walked through the arch, Suel turned to face Yowrnsaxa. The companionable demeanor she had worn when Yowrnsaxa first arrived was no longer evident. “It seems you are feeling unwell, Yowrnsaxa. Perhaps you should return to your quarters until you are feeling well enough that I can rely on you.”
Her voice was pure acid, and her expression was one Yowrnsaxa would expect to show only to someone she deeply hated. “Perhaps it would be best if you, Sif, and I spent some time apart. Perhaps the two of you should see what I’m up against and maybe that will assuage your doubts about my actions.” Anger was creeping into Queen Suel’s eyes.

  Yowrnsaxa nodded. It was clear that she hadn’t kept her intentions of coming to Meuhlnir’s aid quite as disguised as she had thought. “Your Grace knows best,” she said in a neutral voice.

  “Indeed, I do,” said Suel, tilting her head forward to glare at Yowrnsaxa from under her eyebrows, seeming to make even such an innocuous statement threatening. “You and Sif will report to the Ministry—to Luka and Vowli—tomorrow.” The queen laid a tender hand on each man’s forearm. “Perhaps they can educate you about the perils Suelhaym now faces.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” Yowrnsaxa bowed and walked back to the quarters set aside for the Trohtninkar Tumuhr. She went straight to Sif’s room and knocked on the door.

  “Come,” called Sif.

  Yowrnsaxa told her what had happened at the late tea.

  “Suel is right,” said Sif with heat in her voice. “It is best that we spend some time apart. Or else I might regret my actions.”

  The next morning, they walked together to the low building that housed the Ministry of the Queen’s Justice. There was a single door into the building and no windows. Inside, the lobby was dark—lit only by a single torch near the door, and a single candle burning on the desk in front of another door leading deeper into the building. A short, rat-faced man sat behind the desk. He leered at them with a small sneer twisting the corners of his mouth.

  “May I help you two ladies?” he asked.

  “We are Trohtninkar Tumuhr. We are here to see your masters.” The man was a thrall and beneath their notice.

  “Oh, yes,” he slobbered. “I was told to expect you.”

  “And?” asked Yowrnsaxa without looking at him.

  “If you will follow me,” he said, getting up and opening the door behind him. He went through and took a torch from a sconce in the next room and turned to beckon them. “I won’t bite,” he said.

  They followed him through a warren of dim hallways with dark offices off to the sides. He led them to a set of steep stairs and scampered down in front of them, lighting torches at each landing. “We keep it dark here to keep the prisoners from—”

  “Lead, don’t talk,” snapped Sif.

  “As you command, m’Lady,” he said in a sullen voice.

  Yowrnsaxa lost count of the landings but knew they must be deep underground. The walls began to sweat moisture. Finally, the thrall stopped at one of the landings and handed the torch to Sif.

  “Through the door, down the hall, third door on the right,” he snapped.

  “You may go,” said Yowrnsaxa.

  The thrall trudged up the stairs grumbling under his breath.

  The two women walked through the door into a foul-smelling rectangular room. Cells ran the length of the room on each side, shrouded in shadow. The odor of human waste was strong enough to make their eyes water.

  They strode down the center of the room, trying to ignore the grunts of the prisoners in the cells as they saw Sif and Yowrnsaxa.

  “So many,” whispered Sif.

  “Luka and Vowli have indeed been busy,” said Yowrnsaxa.

  “Trohtninkar Tumuhr here?” It was croaked from a cell on the right. The voice sounded like it issued from a throat that didn’t get much use. Or much water for that matter. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Indeed, not,” said Sif. “What is your name, sir?”

  “I am Toemari Adalsteinn.”

  “What?” asked Sif.

  “Why are you imprisoned down here?” asked Yowrnsaxa at the same moment.

  “I stand accused of treasonous speech against her Majesty, though what I said that was treasonous, I have no idea.” Adalsteinn’s voice was getting stronger by the word—as if the words were knocking rust from his voice box.

  “Surely this must be a mistake, Toemari?” asked Sif.

  Adalsteinn sighed. “You are asking the wrong man.” He sounded defeated. “The right man lies beyond.”

  “No mistake,” said Luka. He stood at the end of the room, smirking. “No one on this floor is here by mistake.”

  Adalsteinn scoffed. “That is a lie,” he grumbled. It was as if he knew the seeds of his argument were going to fall on stony soil.

  “Come, come, Adalsteinn. Be honest. You came here by way of the floors above, and on each floor, you were given the opportunity to prove your innocence. You chose not to—or maybe you could not.”

  Adalsteinn made no reply, but they could all hear him shuffling farther into the cell.

  “Don’t let these sad sacks tug your heart strings, ladies,” said Luka. “No one here is innocent or here by mistake. That’s what all those rooms above are for.”

  Sif cocked an eyebrow at Yowrnsaxa, and she shrugged in reply. “Why are we here, Luka?”

  “As her Majesty explained last night, you two are here to hear the truth of what the queen has to face every day.”

  “And what is that?” asked Sif with some scorn.

  “Treachery. Plots. Cheats.” Luka turned and waved for them to follow as he walked down another hall lined with cells.

  “Even a Toemari?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Luka. “The karl class is not immune to greed and treachery, and neither is the yarl class, though there are fewer yarls here than karls and far fewer karls than thralls.”

  “Because thralls have the most to be angry about or because they have the least protection?” asked Sif with a curled lip.

  Luka just shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I care about is rooting out the undesirables that surround or threaten Queen Suel.” He came to the third door on the right and held it open for them.

  Yowrnsaxa walked through the door and gasped. The room was filled with the stench of blood, sweat, and urine. Of fear and pain, in other words. There was a tall, naked man strapped to a cross of thick timbers, positioned so that his back was to the door, and his face rubbed against the rough-cut timbers.

  Sif stepped through the door behind Yowrnsaxa. “Surely this can’t be what the queen wants,” she muttered.

  Vowli was leaning against the wall, picking at his fingernails with the tip of a very sharp looking knife. “Her Majesty wants us to root this faction of malcontents, criminals, and rebels from her empire. She has invested us with the power to see the job done.”

  “By any means?” asked Yowrnsaxa.

  “By whatever means are required to get results,” said Luka. “Take this man, here. He is a wealthy karl. He was promised to the youngest daughter of another prominent karl. He had it all—riches, acceptance, and respect in the caste above that of his birth, houses, servants, friends, and even power.”

  “But he chose to squander all that,” said Vowli. “He squandered it in an asinine attempt to make a fool of the queen. When he was discovered, he ran and hid like a coward. He tried to foster rebellion to save himself. Right here in her majesty’s home city.”

  “A coward, through and through,” said Luka.

  “What more can be expected from a karl?” asked Vowli. He pushed himself away from the wall, examining his fingernails as if they were the end-all of his existence. “It fell to us to capture him and to squash his budding treason.”

  “Now it is our task to see how deep his treachery ran,” said Luka. He turned to face them. “It is your task to watch us work and observe the results.” He started to turn back to the man strapped to the cross. “But feel free to jump right in and assist us if you feel so motivated.”

  Vowli stood very close to the man’s exposed back. “Who else did you corrupt, traitor?” he whispered, his mouth behind the man’s left ear, the dagger held loose at his side.

  “N-no one,” said the man, “I just ran because I panicked when I heard the Mini
stry was after me. I didn’t try to foster rebellion. I just tried to hide. I didn’t—” The flood of words turned into a shriek of pain as Vowli used the tip of the dagger to slash from the man’s shoulder blade down to his waist, leaving a trail of blood behind.

  “Not that tired story again, Peli,” said Luka with a sigh. “It’s true the ladies haven’t heard it, but Vowli and I have.”

  “Many times,” said Vowli with some menace, his lips brushing Peli’s ear.

  “We know that story is a fabrication,” said Luka.

  “A lie,” echoed Vowli.

  “And the ladies don’t believe you anyway, so you might as well drop the act.”

  Vowli rested the tip of the dagger half an inch from the top of the first cut. “We’ve dealt with this story.”

  “And two floors above, you admitted the story was a lie,” said Luka. “We don’t want to hurt you, but you are making us do so.”

  Yowrnsaxa glanced at Sif, whose expression was thunderous with fury. Yowrnsaxa took her hand and squeezed it. Sif met her glance and shook her head, full of sadness.

  “Don’t you want to tell us the truth any more, Peli?” asked Vowli, applying a subtle pressure to the tip of the dagger.

  “What I said before was not the truth,” Peli gasped.

  “Oh, come now,” snapped Luka.

  Vowli moved the knife downwards a few inches and Peli shrieked. “It was all lies! You said if I gave you names that you’d let me go.” Peli’s voice was without hope.

  Luka sighed. “So, we must start again, Peli?”

  “It would be easier for you to just tell us the truth,” said Vowli.

  “I have told you the truth! Many times! And each time, you hurt me.”

  “Yes, how unfair your life is, Peli,” said Vowli as he dragged the blade of the dagger down toward Peli’s waist. “Maybe this is a waste of time, Luka. Maybe I should just kill our friend Peli, here.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Luka. “What do you think, Peli?”

  Peli whimpered and shook his head.

  There was a knock at the door, and they all jumped a little, even Peli jumped as much as his bindings would allow. Yowrnsaxa looked at Sif with raised eyebrows. Sif squeezed her hand again and tried to hide a little smile.