Cethe (3 page)

Arranz gave Stefn a rough shove toward a chair beside the rangy nobleman. Stefn nearly missed it, scrabbling wildly before

somehow getting seated. The man frowned, peering narrowly at him. “Loth! How old is he? Fifteen?”

“Nineteen,” replied Arranz. He took the last empty seat, propping his muddy boots on the low, beautiful y-carved, mosaic-

topped table. “Just.”

Prince Severyn, relieved, settled back. “Good. I hear she’s a only year younger than him. I’l not wed a child.”

“Wh-what?” whispered Stefn, head buzzing. “Wed?”

They weren’t listening. The yel ow-haired lord seated beside the prince said, “I wonder if she’s as pretty as her brother.”

“I hear the lovely Miss Eldering is one of the Lights of Lothmont. The last time I was in town, the other bachelors in my club

were raving about her beauty, her grace, her bel -like laughter … ”

“You bastards! Leave Stefanie out of this!” Horrified, furious, Stefn lurched to his feet. The dark-haired nobleman snorted and

got up to push him back.

“Auron!” exclaimed the taint, straightening, his boots hitting the floor. “Watch your … He’s not as… Damn!”

The warning came too late. Stefn snatched the nobleman’s own belt-knife from its sheath and plunged it into his ribs. The

man’s eyes widened with astonished disbelief and he toppled sideways.

Stefn kept hold of the knife, slashing wildly as al the traitors drew their swords. A part of him was dimly horrified, knowing

there could be only one outcome; the men suddenly surrounding him were grimly intent upon it.

“Don’t kil him!” Prince Severyn shouted and narrowly missed a savage slice across his arm for his mercy.

Again, it was the taint who stopped Stefn, who moved with such unnatural swiftness and grace Stefn barely registered the fact

before the knife flew from his hand and he was sent crashing to the floor.

“Auron!” The blond nobleman ran to his wounded accomplice, dropping to the floor beside him. “Loth the Great! Chal ory!”

The look he threw Stefn was black with rage. “Kil the puny bastard! The whole damned family are monsters!”

“Get him out of here,” snarled the prince.

“What are you talking about?” cried the blond man, “He’s kil ed Chal ory!”

The third of the traitor lords ran across the Great Hal for help while the blond desperately tried to staunch Lord Chal ory’s

bleeding. Stefn tried to get up, but the taint knocked him back down with a careless slam of his heel into Stefn’s head. The world

dimmed.

When his head cleared, he was face down on the carpet, wrists chained at his back. The room tilted wildly as he was dragged

roughly back to his feet and redeposited in the chair.

“Move again,” the taint promised softly, “and I’l knock you out.”

“Knock him out? Cut his damned throat!” The blond lord, on his knees beside his wounded companion, looked up at Arranz

with black rage.

The taint ignored him, joining him on the floor. “Leave off, Forry.” His voice was calm, even. “I can at least stop the bleeding.”

The blond nobleman seemed to get hold of himself, offering up a weak smile. “Y-yes, of course. Damn. Sorry.”

“If we kil him,” Prince Severyn added, “the only way to get our hands on his whore of a sister is to petition the Church. It’s the

law.”

“What?”

“The old bastard was a knightmage, remember?”

Arranz set his hands on the wounded lord. Blood wel ed up between his fingers. Long and fine, they seemed to take on an

inner light. The dark-haired man shifted and murmured, but didn’t open his eyes.

The prince continued. “The Elderings were one of the original Hunter garrisons. They may have fal en on hard times in recent

years, but they’re stil Churchmen.”

Lord Chal ory groaned, then coughed. The yel ow-haired noble leaned back, relieved.

“Thanks, Mick.”

Arranz, pale as milk, didn’t answer. Instead, he sagged forward over the injured rebel’s body. Yel ow-hair swore and pul ed him

away.

Across the hal , the other rebel lord returned, fol owed by several soldiers.

“Get Chal ory upstairs and fetch a physician to see to his wound,” the prince ordered. “The bleeding is stopped, but he’s not

out of danger. As for the sin-catcher… ” Lothlain turned a look of cold enmity on Stefn. “Get him out of here. He’s caused enough

trouble.”

Leaving Stefn to the rough attentions of his guards, the prince dropped to his knees beside Arranz. The last sight Stefn saw

as he was dragged from the hal was the prince holding the taint in his arms as gently as if Arranz was a brother and not, as

everyone could plainly see, a monster from deepest hel .

Michael heard the voice in his dream, cal ing his name. It grew louder. He opened his eyes and the dream vanished. Severyn

stood over him. Staring blankly up at the prince, he remembered where he was. “How’s Auron?”

Severyn swore, half-laughing, and fel back into the chair beside the bed. “It’s about damned time! You’ve been out for three

days! And Auron’s fine, of course, although if not for you, your pretty boy would have robbed me of a dear friend. I’m not sure I’d

have spared his life in that case.”

“Ah. And how is the earl?” Michael’s body was stil sluggish. Unlike holy lothnia, k’na was no gift of a benevolent god. The

Black Stream wore a man to a thread in no time, bringing an irresistible, inevitable Sleep to those who went past their limits. Only the

naragi had used it with impunity and the naragi had been gone for three hundred years.

Reluctant to move, Michael pul ed his blanket up to his chin. “Has Eldering signed the marriage documents?”

Severyn growled something under his breath. “No. For such a girly boy, he’s remarkably stubborn. If it weren’t for you, I’d let

Corliss give him a real work-over, but… damn it, Mick! Are you sure it must be him? The more I think about this whole affair, the less

I’m liking it.”

The bewildered look on those beloved, familiar features brought a flood of affection and the wistful urge to put his arms

around the prince and hold him tight. Michael had long ago come to terms with his own nature. It was to be expected, after al , of one

whose lineage included the nara’s deadly sorcerers. For the prince, alas, it was another matter altogether.

“He’s a means to an end,” Michael said. “Nothing more. What of the servants? Have they accepted our ruse?”

Severyn’s grin reappeared. “It went without a hitch. And you thought the plan was too complicated!”

“Sometimes I don’t know who is more of a madman: you or my grandfather,” growled Michael. “It won’t last. Sooner or later,

the Celestials wil ask questions.”

“Wel , they sure as hel wil if you don’t do something about your hair.” Severyn tilted his head toward Michael’s tangle of

splotchy brunette and silver. “Isn’t it about time for the good Brother to return to his monastery and Lord Arranz to grace us with his

elegant presence?”

Michael grimaced. “What about the medal ion? Did you get it?”

“I did.” Severyn reached into the pocket of his jacket and pul ed out a heavy necklace. He tossed it onto the bed beside

Michael’s pil ow. “You should have seen the look on the face of the Earl’s valet when I took it off the old devil’s body. I’m not sure he

believed me when I said I was taking it for safekeeping.”

Michael sat up.

“Now you’re awake.” chuckled Severyn. “What is it, anyway?”

“A key, I think. Want to come with me?”

Severyn shook his head. “Haven’t time. Key to what?”

“A hidden storeroom. Everyone in the castle was convinced the earl has been hoarding a fortune in gold. It’s probably just a

rumor, but you never know. Do you need me for anything?”

The princely grin widened. “Wel , I would appreciate if you could have a word with our new earl. The sooner Stefanie Eldering

is my wife, the more secure our hold is on Shia.”

“As you wish.” Michael threw back the covers and got out of bed. Severyn’s gaze moved over his half-naked body, almost as if

drawn against his wil .

Color deepening, the prince quickly turned his eyes away.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’d stay and see what you find, but I’m due in Shiaton to meet with their vil age elders.”

“You’re not going alone, I hope.” Michael quickly took his habit from the bedpost and put it on. “There are plenty of real

bandits out here.”

“Forry’s going, too, and a dozen men. We’l be al right. If you can stay awake, meet us at supper.”

After the prince had gone, Michael sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the door, thinking how the room suddenly seemed a

little less bright. When Severyn was around, nothing was impossible. Sometimes, in dark moments, Michael imagined what his life

would have been like had it not been for the prince and knew himself to be fortunate beyond imagining.

They’d met by accident: the shy, reclusive grandson of the infamous Demon Duke of Blackmarsh and the young prince,

cheerful, energetic and lonely. The royal estate of Messerling bounded Blackmarsh to the east, an easy distance between friends.

Soon Severyn had been more often at Blackmarsh than in his own huge mansion. His favor had eased the Arranz family’s daily

struggle with poverty and subtle harassment. His friendship had drawn an isolated, angry youth out of his shel and given him a

reason to trust.

Michael looked down at the medal ion, thumbing its etched surface. The thing was very old and tarnished. He didn’t know for

certain it was the key, of course, or that it locked away a treasure like the servants whispered, but Lord Eldering had worn it always.

According to gossip, he kept it on even when buck-naked and tumbling whatever servant girl caught his eye.

It would take only a few minutes to learn the truth. A fortune in treasure would go a long way toward funding a coup. Michael

dropped the medal ion over his neck, tucking it into his habit. As an afterthought, he pul ed up his hood, in no mood to apply more

hair-dye, and put on his spectacles. It was almost second nature to slump his shoulders and take on the humble mien of the cleric

he’d been playing for the past three weeks.

Lamp in hand, he left his room. At the bottom of the main stairs, he was accosted by Shia’s elderly butler. The man greeted

him joyful y, seizing his hand and squeezing it. “‘Tis good to see you, Brother Michael!” he cried. “We did exactly as you said and no

one was hurt. But where were you, Brother? You weren’t among us. I was afraid the outlaws had slain you, too!”

“Loth was merciful,” replied Michael dutiful y, ignoring his question. “You’re up late, Greyson.”

“I’m on my way to bed,” the butler reassured him. “Things are in quite a state! There is so much to do! Stil , I cannot complain.

Thanks to His Highness and you, of course, many lives were saved.”

“Loth be praised,” agreed Michael.

“But is it true? Wil you be returning to Zelenov?”

“I must bear details of this terrible affair to the Archbishop. Besides, I’m sure the new earl wil want to choose his own cleric.”

The old man’s kindly face darkened. “The sin-catcher?” he spat. “It’s his fault that we’ve suffered such calamity!”

Michael couldn’t help a twinge of pity for the luckless Stefn Eldering. On the other hand, the new earl was a convenient

scapegoat. “Now, Greyson,” he said in most officious tones, “sin-catchers are Loth’s judgment. Who are we to question His wil ?”

Leaving the old man, Michael continued to the north wing. Al of Shia was old, but the north wing was the oldest and naran-

built. His own ancestors had been the architects of its precise angles and perfectly straight wal s. The Church denied it; the

Elderings denied it, too, claiming it was human-built. But deep down, it seemed, the earls had always known the truth for they had

avoided the wing assiduously. Long deserted, it was damp and cold and the roof leaked in the ferocious winter storms Rooms were

empty or stuffed with forgotten furniture and belongings. The north wing also held Castle Shia’s library, but then, it too had been

mostly forgotten by its brutish owners.

Lamplight flowed over cracked and yel owed plaster. Doors were shut against its invasion; there was dark ahead and dark

behind. Michael’s footfal s echoed in the emptiness.

On the third floor, the library door stood slightly ajar. Michael gave it a push and it swung open, hinges screeching. At once, he

was enveloped in the smel of leather, paper and mold. Once, long ago, before the Elderings and the Church had conspired to steal