Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four (12 page)

The dark knight watched Cyrus with a very subtle smile. “Every time I think I’ve got the measure of you, Davidon, you surprise me. Alaric would have just executed this Baron and been done with it, if no other suitable justice was to be found. A slow, painful death?” Terian’s smile faded. “I would have thought you … beyond that.”

“Let the gravity of the crime be reflected in the punishment,” Cyrus said. “If there is no justice in this land for him to answer to, let him answer to the natural laws of his own mortality.”

“I see,” Terian said, and his smile vanished. “An excellent point about letting the crime be reflected in the punishment. An excellent point, indeed.”

“They have a full complement of spices,” Martaina said, coming from the kitchen of castle Green Hill, a large sack slung across her back. “We can take enough food from here to feed us for a few days.” Cyrus sat at the head of the table in the dining room, a plate of food in front of him, the aroma of succulent mutton chop and fresh vegetables wafting up at him as he took a bite of the lamb. He could hear his soldiers eating in the throne room, where trestle tables had been set out. Others were in the courtyard, while still others he had entrusted with the task of sorting out whether anything in the castle was worth taking.

“They have wine as well,” J’anda said, entering the dining room behind her, a goblet in hand. “It’s not quite like the vintages of the Riverlands, but it’s far from atrocious.” The dark elf made his way over to a padded chair and sat down, leaning his head back. “Is there any chance we could stay here for the night? I would love to take advantage of having a bed to sleep in for the first time in weeks.”

“You and everyone else, I daresay.” Curatio held a goblet in front of him as well, a sparkling silver one that he took a deep, delicate sip from before replacing it on the flawless white tablecloth.

“So are you going to turn loose the army on the castle?” Aisling stared at Cyrus from where she leaned against the doorjamb leading into the hallway to the kitchens. “Let them have a little plunder for their troubles here?”

Cyrus picked up the napkin that sat at his right side and dabbed his face with it in an exaggerated show of politeness that caused Terian to roll his eyes and J’anda to guffaw. “I don’t think so,” he said with a shake of the head. “Letting them run loose through this place, tearing it to pieces? Sounds like a recipe for losing discipline. Not to mention the fights it’d likely start over who gets what loot. No, we’ll take what foods we can carry, the spices, and we’ll go through the weapons to see if there’s anything that would be worth parceling out to the army, since,” he coughed, “there isn’t anyone left alive to fight here. Any other objects …” He shrugged. “I don’t want to feel like we’re looting, but I suppose this isn’t that different from any other expeditions we’ve mounted, save for the fact that here our foes are human.”

“Damned right,” Terian said with a snarl. “If this was a castle of dark elves you wouldn’t think twice about dividing up the spoils from them, so why wouldn’t we add the assets from ransacking this place to the guild bank? There’s likely some jewels or something, isn’t there?” He looked to Longwell, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

“Hm?” The dragoon looked up when the others in the room turned their attention to him. “Oh, yes. A Baron of his station would likely have a number of precious stones, gold and silver, and I daresay that within the armory you could find more than a few swords and axes that would be better than some of the things I’ve seen our warriors toting about. Luukessian steel isn’t mystical since we don’t possess magic, but it’s of good enough quality. And there are certainly a few mystical weapons that have made their way to our shores,” his hand grasped the hilt of his lance, “though not many.”

“Is it considered acceptable to plunder your conquests in Luukessia?” This from J’anda, who held his goblet up to his nose and took a deep inhalation of his wine before sipping again.

“Oh, yes,” Longwell said. “Conquest is much more brutal here than in Arkaria, you might have noticed. Looting and pillaging is perfectly normal when you conquer, much like we saw from the dark elves in Termina. Also, without weapons and armor that can add strength or the ability to use magic, many women are treated like chattel and considered part of the spoils of war.” He looked around the table and saw the looks on the faces of Nyad and Martaina. “Not that I endorse such thinking myself, but you heard the Baron—and he is not alone in his way of thought.”

“Pardon me?” Martaina looked at the dragoon in askance.

“Well, women are forbidden to own property,” Longwell said. “They are considered to be subject to the rules of their husbands, subject to their whims.”

“So, what?” Aisling’s purple eyes flashed in anger. “I’m supposed to kowtow to some man because he thinks he’s stronger than me? That I’m good for cooking meals, relieving his tensions in the night, making plump babies, and nothing else?”

Terian eyed her up and down. “You’re pretty thin; I doubt you could make a very plump baby with those hips.”

Her hand moved fast, fast enough that Cyrus barely saw it. The dagger was out and thrown before Cyrus could shout a warning. Terian dodged it, barely, and it embedded in the stuffed padding in the back of Terian’s chair. He clucked softly at her and smiled. “I’m keeping the dagger.”

“As what? A memento of the only occasion when a woman paid you attention without gold filling her purse in exchange?” She smiled sweetly at him but it was all fake, and Cyrus could see the venom beneath. “I’ve got better ones; ones I save for people I actually mean to kill.”

Far in the distance, Cyrus could hear very low whimpers from Baron Hoygraf, alone in his quarters on the floor above. “I doubt we’ll change the male-dominated hierarchy of Luukessia today, so let’s shelve this discussion.”

“I suppose you’re okay with it if we get to this land his father rules,” Aisling pointed at Longwell, “and he tells us women to sit in the back line of battle, or worse, in the prep tent.”

“I presume your father won’t tell me how to run my army?” Cyrus looked at Longwell, who nodded confirmation. “Besides, if I’m not much mistaken, the attitude in this land is not wildly different than what I’ve heard about life in Saekaj Sovar.” He stared hard at Aisling, and she looked away. “Since it’s considered the norm, I want officers and our veterans to go over the castle, top to bottom, and decide if there are things beyond food we should take with us as spoils. Half of the value will go to the guild bank for the effort expended to take the castle. We’ll burn everything else.”

“Half of the haul will be a small fortune with a holdfast as rich as this one,” Longwell said, approving. “What’s to be done with the other half?”

“I want it given to the two women whom the Baron captured and … well,” Cyrus said, lowering his voice. “We can’t undo what was done, but perhaps if they’ve joined Sanctuary for adventure and thought the better of it, they can take the recompense and it will at least give them some options where they might not have had any before.”

“That will likely be enough to allow them to live a fairly well-off life,” Longwell said. “Unless I miss my guess on the size of the Baron’s treasure hoard.”

“Good.” Cyrus took the last bite of mutton then slid his chair back from the table. “Work through the night if you have to, but I want it all set to travel tomorrow morning. Take the animals out of the stables and give every one of our people that was captured their own horses.” He stopped in thought. “I hadn’t wanted to bother with wagons while we were traveling down the beach to the bridge, but now that we’re in Luukessia, I expect we could take some wagons with us, yes?” He looked at Longwell, who nodded. “Good, that’ll spare us having to send one of our wizards or druids back to Sanctuary with the spoils, and we may yet have a need for some of those items to trade later in our journey.” He looked at the faces around him. “Anything else?”

No one said anything, but there were a few shrugs. Cyrus smiled. “Then I’m going to go steal a few hours sleep in the Baron’s bed.”

J’anda threw a wadded-up napkin at Cyrus.

“What? You’re not the only one that longs for a soft bed, my friend.”

“Hmph,” the enchanter said, teasing. “Perhaps I’ll join you later.”

“Hah,” Cyrus said. “Just don’t wake me, whatever you do.” He left and turned to go down the hallway. “If someone wants to drag the Baron down to his own dungeons, I wouldn’t complain.”

“He probably would, though,” Longwell said. “I think I can hear him complaining now.”

“Complaining, whining, dying—when it’s a raping, murdering, bastard doing it, who cares which it really is?” Martaina asked.

Cyrus felt his feet clank against the stone as he walked down a hallway that led to the Baron’s quarters. The torches burned, giving it a smoky aroma that filled his nose. There was a soft whisper of leather on stone behind him, causing him to hesitate. “If you’ve come to proposition me, even if I were amenable, I’m far too tired for that tonight.”

Aisling walked past him, her shoulder bumping gently against his armor. “You didn’t speak up against their treatment of women in this land.”

“I gutted the Baron who captured our people and raped our women,” he said, staring at her as she turned to stand opposite him, only a few feet from his face. “I gave away half the guild’s spoils so we could try and give the women a fresh start if they decided they wanted to leave behind this adventuring life. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“It’s not only about what you do,” she said in a low whisper, “sometimes it’s about what you say—or don’t say.”

Cyrus let out a deep sigh. “I’m in love with a woman who wields a sword better than any man I’ve ever met save one, a woman who wears heavier armor than I do, who can beat the ass off almost any man she’s ever crossed swords with. Do you really think I have a problem with women being the equal of men in any capacity?”

“Perhaps you’re just a glutton for pain,” she said acidly. “But if you feel that way, why didn’t you condemn it when Longwell told us how it was over here?”

“Because I was too busy listening to Longwell condemn it while he tried to backpedal away from his society’s embracing of male superiority,” Cyrus said, leaning against the wall to his left, resting his glove against it. “I just assumed that we who are here from Sanctuary, where we have a few women officers who help run our guild, would all know that I feel that way.” He paused and glared back at her. “Where is this coming from? Me? Or how things are back in Saekaj?”

“Maybe both,” she said, arms crossed. “You can’t tell me it’s the same for humans, either. How many women are taken into the Society of Arms compared to men?”

“Fewer,” Cyrus said, resting his weight on the wall.

“Half as many, I’ve heard, just in the first trial,” Aisling snapped. “Because the orphan girls who are slight of body are taken to the Wanderers’ Brotherhood and trained as rangers rather than thrown into the Society’s Blood Families.”

“Which is good for them,” Cyrus said, “because it gets brutal there.”

Aisling’s eyes narrowed at him. “Are you saying girls can’t handle a fight like that?”

Cyrus didn’t back off. “I’ve seen many that could. But most were eliminated, yes.”

Aisling’s face broke into a frozen smile, distorted, without any sense of mirth to accompany it. “Pretty little things.”

“Yes,” Cyrus said. “And they were weeded out by the first trial and sent to be scullery maids or serving girls because it was deemed that if they should continue in the Society or the Brotherhood they’d be nothing more than pretty broken things.”

“So what’s the difference between that and here?” Her voice was cool, and her eyes held a hint of disgust. “You can’t tell me some of those scullery maids, in the houses they worked in, got any better treatment than our female warriors and rangers at the hands of the Baron’s men.”

“No, but I also can’t do anything about them, either,” he said, annoyance rising. “I’m not in charge of Reikonos or the Society of Arms or anything, really, save for Sanctuary’s army here in Luukessia and my own self. So if you really think I’m tacitly endorsing their treatment of women, or anything else—pigs and chickens or crops and fields, for example, I’m not. I’m trying to do the best I can to do right by my people. That’s it. Radical societal transformations will have to wait for someone both more visionary and less likely to strike down someone who pisses him off with a sword.”

“They might need the sword and the will to use it if they’re going to radically transform a society in the way you’ve described.”

“Why are you here?” He leaned in closer to her. “Is this because you think I’ll change my mind and give in to your advances if you argue with me more? Because—”

“Don’t insult me by suggesting I’m only here because of some unquenchable desire of my loins to have you,” she said, her voice hot with her temper. “I’ve made clear my interest and you’ve made clear your lack of. That’s fine. I’m giving you my opinion, that’s all.” She didn’t smile.

“Duly noted. But you’ve never been much of one for formalities or arguing, so forgive me,” he said, “for suspecting ill intentions. I didn’t mean to insult you by suggesting—”

“Yes, you did.” She slipped back a step, but it was so subtle he almost didn’t notice, so perfect was her balance and movement. “But that’s all right.” Her smile was back, but it was hollow, unreal. “I’ve come to expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said, and meant it. “I’m sorry if I’ve been unkind to you.”

She smiled, and her expression was more genuine but still tight. “I believe you. And I bid you good night.” She turned and drifted into the shadows of the hall, and he could barely see her as she walked along, toward the throne room.

Cyrus entered the Baron’s quarters to find him on the ground, lying on his side, moaning. Hoygraf’s eyes found Cyrus as he entered the room, and looked around at the rich surroundings, the tapestries and furniture, made as exquisitely as any of the pieces he’d seen of note in Sanctuary. “You know, Baron, you had a pretty good life here before you went and stuck your head in the dragon’s mouth.”