Masque of Death (Kormak Book Nine) (The Kormak Saga 9) (8 page)

* * *

T
he servant Lorenzo
strode into the room. He bowed to Orson and said, “I have found the two men you seek, master. They are getting drunk in Mama’s Tavern.”

“Good,” Orson said.

“About time,” said the changeling. He glanced at the shuttered window and the lit chandelier. Outside the sound of the night’s revelries had begun. Judging by the noise, even at this early hour they were markedly more frenzied than the previous evening.

Lorenzo gave him a less deep bow and said, “I am sorry it took so long, sir, but I am not a magician. It took my men most of the day to comb the taverns and brothels. The watch were also looking. A few bribes in the right quarters slowed that down.” He glanced once more at Orson. “What would you have me do now, sir?”

“Pick them up. Do it discretely. Make sure you are not followed. Bring them back to the house by the underground entrance. We don’t want this traced back to us.”

“As you say, sir.”

“I am going with him,” said the changeling. He was tired of waiting. The geas nagged at him. He was also unsure about exactly where he stood. Since his interview with Lady Khiyana, he had been troubled. She had quite clearly been recruited into a Shadow cult. The sorcerer Balthazar was the head of the Maial cell as far as he could tell. He was unsure how much Orson knew about the Shadow cult, but clearly, the fat man knew something, and equally clearly he was subservient to Balthazar.

Under normal circumstances, the changeling would have done his best to wipe out the whole nest of them, but he could not. The geas placed on him by Lady Marketa back in Trefal drove him to seek the source of Vorkhul’s coffin. He needed their help to find it before the Guardian did.

He turned his thoughts to Kormak. So far all of his direct attacks on the Guardian had failed. He did not like to admit that he feared the man. He had been trained by undying masters in all forms of combat, had learned to dispatch grown men with his bare hands. He was a master of blade and bow and dagger. There was nothing to fear from one ageing swordsman and yet . . .

That ageing swordsman had slain one of the dark gods of battle, an immortal who had strode across the killing fields of the Elder Age. And Vorkhul was not the only Old One Kormak had slain. There had been others, many others.

The changeling had done more than his share of killing, but it had mostly been from the shadows. It was not that he feared using the blade. Stealth was just more efficient. He was definitely not afraid of this Guardian. If he had to, he could kill him one on one with a sword. It was just that he preferred not to.

And yet it might come to that. The man was preternaturally wary. It was as if he had a gift for sensing danger and his reflexes were astonishingly quick. Poison had been tried. Shots had been taken in the midst of battle. None had even come close to killing him. Perhaps the Holy Sun really did protect his chosen ones.

The changeling dismissed the idea. The Holy Sun was a lie, a fabrication created to manipulate gullible humans. The whole religion was a weapon aimed at the true masters of the world by the ghosts of their long-dead rivals. It was an attempt at revenge from beyond the grave by a defeated foe.

And it was a most successful one. The Order of the Dawn had slaughtered hundreds of the Old Ones. The Sunlanders had been more tenacious and persistent foes than any of the mighty Elder Races. His masters did not want to admit that but the changeling had studied enough history and seen enough of the world to know that it was true.

No matter. He would succeed in finding the source of Vorkhul’s coffin. He had to. Vorkhul had been kept out of history for millennia. No one had heard anything of him. And then suddenly, out of this hinterland, he had come.

It should not have been possible. The Old Ones had ruled these lands for thousands of years before the Sunlanders. Surely, Vorkhul would have been found and freed before then. Unless something was concealed out here. That was what his masters wanted him to find out. This was the mystery that needed to be solved. He needed to locate wherever Vorkhul had come from before the Guardian or anyone else. He needed to find out if there were more like the Old One and whether they served the Shadow.

He would kill anyone who got in his way.

K
ormak rested
in his chair in the Governor’s office. A bust of what looked like the Governor’s father sneered down at him. Zamara paced up and down as if he was intent on wearing a hole in the thick carpet. Rhiana lounged in one of the overstuffed armchairs, studying a map of the coastline.

It had been a long day. No clue as to the whereabouts of the adventurers had shown up. Kormak suspected that the Governor was perfectly happy with that. He smiled smugly as Ezra reported the Watch’s findings. Either that or Aurin had drunk a little too much wine. He had been hitting the bottle even harder since the sun went down.

The Governor felt Kormak’s gaze upon him.

“Are you dissatisfied with my cooperation, Sir Kormak,” he asked. “If you are just say so, and I will endeavour to meet your requirements. I would not want the King to think I obstructed you in any way.”

“Be sure I will let His Majesty know how helpful you were,” Kormak said and was rewarded with a sour smile.

Count Shahad entered the room and glared around with red-rimmed eyes. “I want vengeance on the man who killed my wife.”

He had just returned from interring Lady Khiyana in the morgue. It would be days before she could be buried. The Masque of Death was not a time when it was easy to get any ritual or ceremony performed.

“If you will forgive me for saying so, Count,” said the Governor. “You have already taken an awful lot of vengeance for slights to your wife’s honour.”

“I am not sure I like your tone, sir,” said Shahad.

“And I am not sure I like the thought of a man driven to commit acts of violence in a situation as potentially explosive as this one.”

“Are you serious about wanting to help me find the people who killed your wife?” Kormak asked.

Shahad looked at him with empty eyes. “Of course,” he said. For a moment, grief vanished from his voice to be replaced by grinding rage. “I’ll do anything that’s needed. I’ll do whatever it takes to find the bastard who did this.”

“To do that I need information and all the help I can get.”

Shahad nodded.

“She have any friends?” Kormak asked.

“Male or female?”

“Either.”

“Both.”

“Was there anything odd about them?”

“What do you mean odd?”

“Unusual, out of the ordinary; were there people who it seemed she should not have known but did?”

Shahad shook his head. “My wife did not travel much outside of our social circle. But she knew everybody there was to know inside it. Some better than others.”

There was a note of bitterness in the big man’s voice. He glanced around the room as if daring anyone to say anything. Zamara looked away, obviously embarrassed. Rhiana looked up from her map. The Governor inspected his fingernails, then took a gulp of wine.

“Men, you mean?” Kormak said.

“Yes, men.”

“You killed some of those men.”

“And I would do it again.”

“You are a jealous man.”

“Jealous and not very clever. Not very handsome either. But I had money and position and power. I inherited them, but I had them. I think those were why she married me. I thought . . . I thought that maybe once she saw how much I loved her, she would come to love me. I thought once she did. Now I can see I was wrong. What is it you wish to know? Why I killed those men?”

“That might be a start. Who were they?”

“Other noblemen. Some of them married. All of them were . . . were sleeping with her. Or I had reason to believe so.”

“Who gave you that reason?”

The Governor groaned as if he already knew the answer and did not want to hear it.

“Sometimes I heard people whisper. Sometimes people would tell me about it. They claimed they were being friendly, but I could see they enjoyed telling me. People are like that. Sometimes she would tell me herself. She taunted me. She liked to make me crazy. I thought it showed she still cared in a twisted sort of way, even though she had changed in so many ways…”

“Changed—towards you or just changed in general. Tell me about that.”

“It was about the time we were invited to Count Balthazar’s parties. She loved them. I never did. The people were too clever-clever. They wanted to seem sophisticated and learned. I say
leave that sort of thing to priests and scholars.
”

“What do you mean?”

“They were always talking about books and history and politics.”

“A lot of people do that.”

“A lot of people I don’t like.”

“What else did they talk about?”

“I did not pay too much attention. It was much more my wife’s sort of thing than mine.”

“Tell me about this Balthazar.”

The Governor slopped more wine into his cup. His face went pale. His eyes glittered. The wine splashed from his cup and spattered onto the top of the desk.

“Rich. From a good old family,” Shahad said. “My father knew him, said he was alright, but he always liked the books a little too much. My old man never cared for much beyond his hounds and his horses and his weapons. He respected Balthazar, though the man had a library.”

The emphasis Shahad put on the word
library
was the same as many another noble would have put on the words
the pox.

“A scholar?”

“Always writing books about the history of Maial, and the Old Ones we vanquished. There are rumours he dabbles in alchemy as well.”

“And your wife became friends with this Balthazar.”

“And his entire circle. She was always attending their parties.”

“That troubled you?”

He nodded and began to chew on his fingernails, noticed what he was doing and made a fist. “You hear stories about orgies and worse.”

“Do you?”

“Aye. They are thought a wild bunch in some circles. Count Stanlis warned me I had better get my wife under control. He reckoned I should have taken a horsewhip to her.”

“But you didn’t?”

“It might have been better if I had. Maybe if I had, she would not be dead now. And maybe I would not have had to stand here talking to you.”

“You think the circle led your wife astray?”

“Her behaviour became much worse after she joined it. She had never taunted me with other men before. She had never taken drugs either.”

“Drugs?”

“I found powdered wyrmspike in her makeup boxes.”

“You searched her makeup boxes?”

“I thought she was using something—her behaviour became so erratic. Her pupils were always dilated. Sometimes she would cry for no reason. Or laugh like a mad thing. I worried about her. Wyrmspike! That’s strange stuff. Makes you see all sorts of visions. If you ask me, I think that’s what Balthazar and his sort were looking for.”

“Visions?”

“Yes.”

“Some people do. A lot of hermits and mystics scourge themselves and take drugs to encourage such things.”

“That’s all very well but I’m not a hermit or a mystic, and neither was my wife.”

“Do you know the names of any of the people in the circle other than Count Balthazar?”

“Baron Carim, Count Lothar are two who spring to mind. They are Balthazar’s chief toadies. I think they might be Separatists too.”

“Separatists?”

“They grumble about taxes, talk about how things would be better run by men on the spot. Balthazar is said to be well-regarded in such circles. People talk quietly about it, but they talk.”

Kormak considered this. They were indeed a long way from Siderea and Prince Taran’s spies if chatter like this was heard among the nobles. Perhaps the Governor was right to tread carefully.

“I think we shall pay a visit to Count Balthazar.”

The Governor said, “You can’t just charge in there. He’s a wealthy man and a powerful one. He has servants and bodyguards. And a lot of friends among the nobility.”

“How many bodyguards does he have.”

“About a score guard his town house.”

Kormak fell silent. Tonight he was going to take action. Somebody here needed to. That much was obvious. “I think I know where I can find enough to even the score.”

“What?”

“Come now, Governor,” said Zamara. “If the Count seeks vengeance personally, it cannot blow back on you. It is a matter of honour after all and the Count is apparently well known for his impetuosity.”

Kormak considered this. There were possibilities inherent in this situation that even the Governor could not object to. “I think the Admiral may be on to something.”

“He is?” The Governor could not keep the disbelief from his voice.

“I think if the Count was to go around questioning people about his wife’s death that would be between him and his fellow nobles. And if I were present to act as his second . . .”

“It does not get around the fact that many of the people who you need to talk to are powerful men with many bodyguards.”

“I am sure the Count has bodyguards of his own, and I am sure Admiral Zamara would consent to be present to ensure that the rules of fair play are observed. The admiral has his own loyal retainers.”

“I can see how you might think that possible,” said Zamara.

Governor Aurin shrugged. “On your own heads be it. Please make it clear to all that you are acting as a private citizen and not as an agent of the crown, Count Shahad. That way you will not be applying a torch to an oil-soaked building.”

“We will do our best,” said Kormak.

“You want how many men?” Zamara asked.

“The whole company. I am going to be paying a visit to a nobleman with his own private army, and I don’t want him to feel that he is at any advantage.”

Governor Aurin stared. “Count Balthazar is a very respectable man. You can’t just go charging into his home. The people will be up in arms.”

“The nobles you mean,” said Zamara.

“They are all the people who count.”

“I can always pay him a visit privately if you prefer,” said Kormak.

“That would probably be politer.”

Zamara grinned. “I don’t think you are following the Guardian, Governor. When he’s says privately he means by night, by stealth and with a blade in his hand. Things might go very badly for your friend if that happens.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Then why are you protecting him?”

“Admiral, you have a lot to learn about the business of ruling an Imperial Colony. The nobles can make a lot of trouble if they choose.”

“The King-Emperor can do that too.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, the King-Emperor, and his armies are an ocean away. The nobles are here. Provoke them enough and you will have a rebellion on your hands. In recent years Separatist sentiment has been growing.”

“A rebellion against the King-Emperor’s lawful representatives. That would be treason.”

“True but it will do us no good if we are lying on the ground with our throats cut.”

“I am not frightened,” said Zamara.

“That is the very thing that frightens me,” said the Governor. “I will no doubt get the blame for whatever you do. You don’t have to live here among these people. I do.”

“I am sure the King can arrange to have you recalled,” said Zamara. “If that is what you wish.”

The Governor groaned. “What I want is for my life to go back to what it was before you two showed up.”

“Then help us, Governor,” said Kormak. “The sooner the affair of the sarcophagus is cleared up, the sooner I will be out of here.”

“I’m doing my best,” said the Governor.

“Admiral, it might be a good idea for you to gather your troops,” said Kormak. “I think we have a visit to pay.”