03 - The Eternal Rose (15 page)

The captain looked to Obed, then to Leyja for confirmation. After a brief exchange of glances, they all nodded. The captain saluted and led the way clattering down the street.

Chaos reigned outside Habadra House. Part of the troop escort that had accompanied their other four stood beating on the gate, shouting for admittance, while the rest of them stacked benches and other appropriated materials in a pile to climb over the walls. Inside the gate, in the public courtyard, Joh held off a handful of servants with his sword in one hand while he held a half-naked woman with the other arm round her neck. The woman was streaked with blood, her once-white kilt soaked in it, dripping scarlet onto the white pavement.

Kallista screamed again, her voice raw and hoarse with pain. Torchay felt the draw of magic and wished he knew how to give it without her having to call.

“Down!” she cried and he threw himself against his horse's neck for what shelter it might give.

The iron-barred gate exploded into powder. Adaran troops leaped to their feet and poured through into the courtyard. Kallista, apparently in control of herself and her magic again, ordered Obed after them. Torchay went after her, as always.

Soldiers took possession of the woman Joh had captured. They warded off the Habadra servants, herding them unharmed into a corner. Kallista threw herself from the horse into Joh's arms, nearly slicing herself in half on the sword he held. Torchay swallowed his shout and dismounted.

“Where?” Kallista had blood on her hands from somewhere, from Joh, who'd got it from the woman. She smeared it on Joh's face when she touched him.

“Inside.” Joh covered her hand with his bloodier one, pressing it to his cheek. “It's bad. Worse than you can imagine. But I know I can't tell you not to go. Follow the blood."

He looked up then, met Torchay's eyes, flicked to Obed and came back before letting Kallista go. Horror shivered cold fingers through Torchay, settling in a jagged icy shard in the middle of his gut.
Goddess,
how bad was it?

The door to the inner courtyard stood open, as did the door to the house itself, a thick trail of blood leading the way. Kallista's steps slowed from their first rush, as if she feared what she would find at the trail's end.

Or as if she knew already and didn't want to see it.

Torchay moved ahead, taking point against any danger that might lie ahead, leaving Obed and Leyja to deal with that which might come creeping up from behind. He did not want to see either, but he had to be there, had to be ready for Kallista when she did.

The bloody trail was smeared across the polished floor by the footsteps that had run through it, slipped in it. It led through the broad entrance hall into the courtyard beyond, lush with greenery and fountains. Torchay drew both his swords as he entered, damning himself as an idiot for not doing it sooner.

The crunch of his footsteps on gravel brought Fox's head up, but not his sword. His
knowing
would have told him who approached.

“Don't let her come.” Fox's voice sounded broken. Candlelight gleamed off the bright gold of his hair.

“You think I could stop her?” Torchay tried to see through the flickering shadows. “Is it safe? Anyone coming?"

“No one close enough yet to matter.” Fox flipped his sword hilt in his hand, turning the double-edged, magic-forged blade over. He did it again and again, almost spinning the grip in his hand. He obviously wanted to kill, but had no target in view.

Torchay glanced over his shoulder. Obed was with Kallista, holding her up, talking non-stop in her ear. He wouldn't change her mind, but he might slow her down. Torchay took a deep breath, then wished he hadn't because the sharp coppery smell of blood permeated everything, overpowering even the flowers’ perfume with its terrible scent.

He walked forward along the path, until he stood next to Fox twirling his sword. There, on the white limestone paving, lay two bodies. The Habadra Khori lay crumpled near a table and chair. The table held a tray filled with refreshments and a wine glass tipped on its side. Red wine spilled across the table and dripped onto the hem of the Habadra's white dress, staining her feet scarlet.

Blood pooled, deep and still spreading, around Stone's sprawled body. Viyelle knelt in the midst of it, holding on to his head, despair and horror in every line of her bowed body. She looked up at Torchay, tears flowing unchecked down her face, as they flowed down Fox's, down Torchay's.

“I can't make it stay,” she said. “When I let go, his head rolls. It won't stay."

Oh Goddess
. Torchay dropped to his knees—they wouldn't hold him. The blood splashed a little when he fell in it.

“Don't let her come!"

Fox's shout had to mean Kallista had entered the courtyard. Torchay struggled to collect himself, to rise, to get out of his ilias's spilled blood, but he couldn't. Oh, Goddess,
Stone
.

If he was so shattered by this, what would happen when Kallista saw?

The thud of many running feet and Fox's lack of reaction told Torchay their own troops took command of the courtyard. He had to get control of himself, had to think what to do next. He tried again to stand, and lost his balance, put his hand down to catch himself—into Stone's cooling blood.

Torchay threw himself aside to retch in the bushes. Then Joh was there, helping him up, handing him his swords. Aisse, Kallista and Leyja knelt with Viyelle, the four women embracing as they wept for their lost lover and friend, and suddenly, Torchay was glad he had fallen.

They all had, even Obed just now struggling to his feet, all of them stained with the blood of their ilias.

“Keldrey,” Torchay said. “He should be here."

“He's been sent for.” Joh gripped Torchay's arm, though his legs would support him now. Torchay turned his hand so he could grip Joh's wrist in return. If it weren't for the continuing likelihood of danger, he would hold on to more than just arms. Their ilias was dead.

Slaughtered.

“Someone comes,” Fox said. “Many of them. Strangers."

“Stay sharp,” the escort captain called out. “But stay calm. This isn't our house."

The warning was apt, because the new arrivals erupted into the courtyard with a rattle of weapons, their tattooed faces stark and eerie in the torchlight. Behind them a woman ran barefoot, her hair falling loose down her back over her simple lavender dress. Perhaps ten years younger than Kallista, she had the same square jaw as the Habadra.

Torchay slid one of his swords into the upper scabbard on his back so that he held only one instead of two in the same hand. This could get bad quickly.

“What is happening here? How dare you invade this House with armed men!” The woman burst through her troop of champions to confront the men standing in the path—Torchay, Joh, Fox.

“You wish to know what is happening?” Kallista's voice rang out and they parted to let her through. Torchay let go Joh's arm and stepped up close behind her, into his place.

“Murder,” Kallista said. “Murder has happened here, and that is why I dare. I am Kallista Reinine, Godstruck of Adara. Who are you?"

Torchay touched the small of her back. He could sometimes calm her that way, when her temper was on the edge.

The woman drew herself up as straight and proud as Kallista. “I am Chani, heir to Habadra. Who is murdered?"

Kallista shuddered. Then she bowed, deeply, in the Daryathi way. “I share your grief. May the One hold you in her hands through this time.” She stepped back, to the side of the path, Torchay wheeling with her in a sort of military maneuver. Fox and Joh stepped aside, revealing the whole grisly tableau to the Habadra heir—the new Head of Habadra Line.

With a keening cry, Habadra Chani ran forward, splashing through Stone's blood, and fell to her knees. She bowed over her mother's body, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch.

Obed eased past Fox and Joh to stand on Kallista's other side, causing the Habadra champions to raise their weapons, which had the Adaran troops rattling theirs. The Adaran muskets had a much greater chance of harming someone by accident than did the Habadran swords, and Torchay tensed.

“Stand down!” Kallista called half a moment before Torchay would have. “We have all lost someone here."

“This is my
mother,
” Habadra Chani cried. “How can your loss compare with mine?"

Kallista went rigid with anger and Torchay opened his hand, pressing it flat on her back. Obed's hand bumped his, as he did the same, and Torchay pulled back. He was not ilias here, not lover. Only bodyguard.

Kallista ground her retort in her teeth, averting disaster. “It serves no purpose to compare grief."

“He is im-Varyl,” Obed said, as if that would explain it. And perhaps it did, for the Habadra subsided.

A man near the murdered Habadra's age pushed his way through the soldiers. He staggered when he saw the bodies, but recovered with a quiet, anguished dignity. He walked to the new Head of Line and bowed. “Habadra Chani."

She turned her grief-stricken face up to him. “Father. How can she be gone?"

He shook his head, unable to answer. Then he lifted the lifeless body of his wife and carried it from the courtyard. The new Habadra struggled to her feet, wiping her face with a hand. “Who has done this evil deed?” She glared at Kallista.

“My Godmarked was here alone with your mother. They are both dead, but it was my il—my Godmarked who was mutilated. In
your
House. Perhaps—"

Joh stepped forward, cleared his throat. “There is a woman. She was caught running—"

“Where?” Habadra Chani interrupted him, striding forward with hate in her eyes.

“Here.” The Adaran guard captain stepped out from her place near the door. She kept the lines of retreat open. Torchay nodded approval.

The captain dragged with her the blood-soaked woman Joh had captured. One of the Habadra champions made as if to take possession of her, but the captain's glare and the steel in her other hand stopped him, as did Joh's advance. He and Fox took custody of the woman, bringing her the rest of the way to the secluded patio where Stone's body still lay horribly exposed.

Torchay reached behind Kallista to get Obed's attention. He'd worn one of the loose Daryathi-style overrobes tonight. Torchay gestured for him to remove it and cover Stone's body. Obed nodded, but when he moved to lay the elaborately adorned robe over him, Kallista said “No, don't. Don't cover him yet."

Obed did so anyway, for once in perfect accord with Torchay. She didn't need to see that awful sight any longer. None of them did.

There was an ominous stillness in Kallista, and Torchay looked for its cause. She stared at the woman held by Fox and Joh. Torchay frowned. The half-naked servant looked vaguely familiar. Could it be—? But
why?

“A servant?” The Habadra spat out the word. Then she also looked more closely at the woman. “This is the servant your people wanted to redeem."

“Yes.” Kallista confirmed it. The woman was Merinda.

God in heaven, what had happened to her? She looked older than Leyja, though she was years younger than Kallista, near Viyelle's thirty-four.

“She is
your
people. Your people did this, killed my mother, slaughtered her own husband."

“But we have not seen her in six years,” Kallista retorted. “She has been in
your
hands. She is so changed I almost did not know her. What have you done to her that would drive her to such an act? And are you even certain that she did it?"

“Look at her!” Chani waved her hand along Merinda's blood-smeared body.

“Look at
me.
” Kallista spread her hands, showing the blood on her clothing where she had touched Stone, held him. “Blood alone is not evidence enough. I am naitan. Truthsayer. Question her. Let me use my magic to see what the truth is."

The Habadra's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How do I know what
you
say is the truth?"

“Don't you have naitani? Send for one. She can read my truth."

Torchay had listened to Bekaara talk about Daryathi magic. He didn't know whether their naitani would leave the temple, and from the way the Habadra snarled, she didn't believe they would.

“We can try the truth in Daryathi fashion,” Chani said.

What was Daryathi fashion?
Torchay didn't know. Obed obviously did, for he had gone utterly still in that way that meant someone could die in the next moment. Not good.

“She is ours,” Kallista said. “We have her. We will try the truth in Adaran fashion. If your naitan will not come, I will set a spell so that you can hear the truth yourself, so that you will know as she speaks it whether it is truth or lie."

Could she do that? Torchay had never heard of such a thing, although he'd seen Kallista do too many things no one had ever done. But she didn't have Stone. The one time the ilian been separated before, she'd said the lack of Stone's magic had made the remaining magic difficult to shape. Would it be so again?

Habadra Chani still frowned, still bristled with hate and grief, but she nodded. Once.

Torchay braced himself against the pull of magic so that it would not distract him from duty. Over the past years, he'd got better at not being distracted. He could feel the odd buzz that told him Kallista was working magic. The buzz had changed when the mark of the One had struck her, but Torchay had been able to tell when she used magic long before then.

He blinked. He'd never been able to
see
it before, however. Not like this. An odd white glow, like a mist but filled with light rather than hiding it, spread across the center of the courtyard just above the heads of the people in it. Torchay blinked again, but the mist was still there. Everyone else seemed to see it too, so he relaxed. It was Kallista's spell.

She stood close enough to him that he could feel her trembling. Was the magic so great a strain? Torchay laid his hand on her back again, offering what support he could. She said his magic held power. Perhaps by touching, she could access it easier. He shifted his touch to her bare hand and she closed it around his, a sense of gratitude coming through their link.