A Charm for Draius: A Novel of the Broken Kaskea (The Broken Kaskea Series Book 1) (24 page)

“Lady Aracia wishes to inquire after your health.”

The fact that Aracia hadn’t bothered to ask him herself while she was in his presence meant she knew Perinon’s excuse of stomach pains earlier that morning was false, merely a way to avoid his Markday breakfast with her. Due to his nightmares and sleeplessness, he’d been too tired to deal with her.

“I’m better now, thank you, and thank Lady Aracia for her concern.”

Onni nodded vaguely. She looked like she was carefully choosing her next words; she was coming to the point of her visit, per her mother’s directions.

“The Lady wishes to know if you were pleased with Rauta-Nelja Cella.”

Perinon pressed his lips together. Aracia was pushing him already? If he gave her any indication he wasn’t considering a contract, more young girls would follow. Moreover, he
was
pleased with Cella, but for the fact she was so young and they would have to wait to marry.

“Tell the Lady that I’ve asked Cella to design new gates for the Meran-Viisi residence and I must evaluate the design before paying any fees to the Rauta-Nelja. I must consider how those gates will stand the test of time, and whether I will appreciate them when three years are past.”

Onni wrinkled her brow. She knew her mother and Perinon spoke around her using codes and metaphors. Aracia would understand his meaning, if Onni repeated the words verbatim.

Perinon chuckled after the girl left the room. Aracia held up Cabaran’s writings as examples for Perinon to follow? Well, she had better be prepared to deal with the results of her suggestion.

chapter Twenty-Six

Second Hireday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471

We have made progress, of a sort. As several of us pushed through the Blindness, one man had a flash of Sight regarding the
Danilo
Ana.
How I wish it’d happened to me! He saw no storms about the ship, but clouds still hung dark and heavy over her. Black smoke rose from her deck and from a hole in her stern.

Since time doesn’t always run true in the Blindness—or “Void,” as I’ve incorrectly called it—the member who caught the glimpse felt it’d happened in the recent past. Obviously, this vision pointed to piracy.

“Our Groygan contact ruled out piracy.” My employer rubbed his beard.

“You assume the Groygans control the piracy in the Angim. That may not be true.” The individual who pointed this out always keeps his hood close, but most of us knew his name and where he worked. He walked away to take up a muttered conversation with the lucky seer.

“And the Groygans now shun us. Lottagre hasn’t attempted to communicate with us for almost an eight-day,” I said.

My employer didn’t have any answer for that, other than a quiet grunt of doubt.

I watched our members clean up our hysterical “wielder” of the Kaskea. Still babbling, the pasty-faced fellow’s eyes rolled up in his head and he became docile enough to carry away. With a nod toward the party of four, each struggling with a limp appendage, I added, “You know he’s not strong enough. We’re in desperate straits and we’ll have to push him. If he breaks, he could reveal all of us to the—the—” I hesitated to complete the sentence.

My employer clapped his big hand over my shoulder, squeezing it painfully. “He’s been a faithful employee and friend to me. For years.”

“I’m not denying that.” My words came out in a squeal and he loosened his grip. I rubbed my shoulder, looking away momentarily to hide my surge of anger. He’d pay for manhandling me. Later.

“I trust him.” His voice was deeper than usual and his eyes were bleak.

“This isn’t a matter of trust.” The words hissed through my teeth. “Nor of loyalty. It’s only a matter of time until his mind breaks, not his will.”

He looked thoughtful. “You’re right about the strain. Maybe we should take a day off. I’ll buy him a pint tomorrow evening, as a respite.”

Take a day off?
Once again, my employer didn’t understand. No amount of rest could help his assistant; the man had, inherently, a weak mind. I took a deep breath to calm myself. “I—
we
—need to be the first to find the lodestone. Do you think it wise to take a break now, when we’re closing in on the ship’s location? They say Rhobar operates under Groygan letters of marque, so those islands may soon be swarming with Groygans.”

“There’s no reason to panic yet.” His face set stubbornly, but I detected a hint of desperation in his voice. “Those islands are like a rabbit warren. Look how many ships the King had to use to capture him.”

“But it’s no coincidence the King sent the Naval Guard after Rhobar! Why would His Majesty suddenly show so much interest, if not for his cousin—I tell you that City Guard bitch is closer than you think. What if the
Phrenii
—”

“I thought your charms could hide us from them.”

“We’re protected because—”
Because we’re skulking around in the Blindness, you fool
. I’d almost said too much. I was the only one with a charm that protected me from the creatures’ ken and I’d had no chance to test it. My words twisted, mid-sentence. “The charms protect us, but they weaken over time. At the least, get me a way to harvest fresh pain or death and I can bolster all of us, including the wielder.”

He watched me silently for a moment, then nodded. He must think I was chafing at my confinement, even though I understood the necessity. The City Guard searched for me everywhere, questioning everyone who might know me or have seen me. It’s a shame my charm didn’t kill Officer Draius, although she’s much less threat than the creatures who are portals to the Void, who can walk the Void as naturally as breathing. Soon it’d be too late for my employer and his cohorts. The Phrenii were coming for them, and my goal was to find the lodestone’s location before that happened.

chapter Twenty-Seven

A Contract Breaks

FAMED PIRATE RHOBAR CAPTURED BY TYRRAN NAVAL GUARD

In a courageous raid, the Naval Guard captured Frisson Rhobar and destroyed his hideaway. Rhobar used the Auberei Archipelago as cover for twelve years, performing outrageous deeds, such as ransoming a Noble Light of the Church of the Way and extorting “protection fees” from Forenllas and Paduellus. But no more. The Naval Guard shut down Rhobar’s posts, burned his ships, and delivered him to Tyrran magistrates in chains. Rhobar’s deeds have been wildly romanticized, but they are still punishable by hanging. Our King has suggested the magistracy show leniency, provided Rhobar confesses his crimes. This makes our young King popular with Tyrran women but Sareen and Kitarra are outraged, claiming they’ve borne the brunt of Rhobar’s crimes. The Groygan embassy has been silent on the matter.

—The Horn & Herald, Second Hireday, Erin Three, T.Y. 1471

On Millday morning, Draius stopped by the hospital and found Lornis could have visitors. Indeed, one sat beside his bed, a petite woman with light brown hair. Her features and color were similar to Lornis’s.

“One of the few cousins I have in the sister cities,” Lornis said. “Leija, this is Draius, my commanding officer.”

“How are you feeling?” Draius sat down beside the bed, opposite Leija.

Lornis’s brown eyes were wide and trusting—almost childlike. He’d lost weight, making his chin, nose, and cheekbones more pronounced. Half his face was covered with green and blue bruising, a mirror image of the bruises on her face.

“Better, much better. When can I start work?”

She laughed, hiding her unease. What changes does one see after phrenic healing? Lornis seemed energetic for someone who recently had a bullet blow his gut apart and a blade slice his leg open. What about the hidden transformations, the ones everyone feared? “Gaflis has hinted you might be able to leave tomorrow.”

“Good!” exclaimed Lornis. His enthusiasm reminded her of Peri.

Draius turned toward Leija. “I wanted to make sure—I mean, most people don’t want—”

“Magical healing?” Leija smiled. “Don’t worry. We accept it, on occasion. We’re one of the few remaining fundamentalist lineages.”

“Good. I mean, I’m glad they made the right decision, for you and your family.” Draius exhaled in a silent sigh of relief. Some people wouldn’t be able to live with the decision Captain Rhaffus made.

“And, on this occasion, we’re grateful they called the Phrenii,” Leija said, patting Lornis’s hand. She stood, giving him a look Draius couldn’t interpret. “I must leave you now, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

After Leija left, Lornis put his broad hand down upon hers, which was resting on the bedrail. She jumped.

“Are you afraid of me, Draius?”

She paused. An urge to be honest, rather than tactful, overwhelmed her. “Somewhat, I guess.”

“Because of the healing?” He watched her.

She dropped her gaze and struggled for words. “I’ve grown up with the stories and I half believe them…”

Her voice trailed away while she looked down at their hands. His were broad, with short fingers, contrasting with her slender ones. “My mother refused healing while she was conscious. She believed she wouldn’t be the same afterward, and she died because of her beliefs. So, instead of changing
her
, it was my father who was never the same. I swayed between hating my mother for being too strong and leaving us, and hating my father for not being strong enough. Near the end, he called the Phrenii for healing, but not soon enough to save her. If he wasn’t going to keep his promise, why couldn’t he have called them sooner?”

Her perfect recall tortured her again. Resentment twisted in her gut. Meran-Viisi Sades had died from the Fevers, her blood and skin burning. Afterward, her only daughter Draius was expected by the matriarchy to “carry on,” as all Tyrran women were. Draius’s father been allowed to grieve and weep, without rebukes to “stay strong,” even though
he
had let Sades depart for the Stars before her time. Young Draius wasn’t allowed grief; she was chided for her tears, even during her mother’s funeral pyre.

Lornis’s hand tightened on hers, bringing her thoughts back to the hospital room.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse and full of emotion. He looked ready to cry.

She pulled her hand away and silently berated herself. Lornis would be sensitive, emotional, and full of empathy after the phrenic healing. And, for some strange reason, she’d bared her emotions to someone she had known less than two eight-days. This wasn’t like her; she hadn’t confided these feelings to anyone, certainly never to Jan.

“Well, when you feel yourself again—” she began.

“I am myself, except there’s a fire inside my body. I’m really hungry, more so than normal.”

“The Stars save us, then. Tyrra could barely feed you
before
your healing.” She shook her head while watching him carefully. Would he still be able to do his job, which demanded detachment?

“Don’t look so worried,” he said. “If I can get to work, have you got anything for me to do?”

“I’m going through the evidence again. I need to confirm that Tellina’s ship carried the lodestone out of the sister cities, and by the Horn, I’m going to connect Vanhus to this whole thing. Not exciting work, and nothing physical.”

Lornis nodded and closed his eyes. “I’ll be there,” he said, his voice strong. Then he suddenly dropped off to sleep and started gently snoring.

She quietly left. She rode Chisel today, so she took the horse back to the stable ring and put him through his forms. She had to protect her injured shoulder, which was healing, but not at the phenomenal rate that Lornis’s wounds were. The mild spring weather and exercise cleared her head, but her aching shoulder made her turn Chisel over to the stable boys when she was finished. Someone else would have to unsaddle and groom the horse.

By the time Draius got to Guard Headquarters, it was afternoon. She nodded to Ponteva when she entered her outer office, where Usko worked under his watchful eyes.

She’d had the Meran lineage records delivered and, with some trepidation, she opened the package. Most Tyrrans learned at a young age not to poke into the business of the matriarchy, so she didn’t know what to expect. Inside the package was a bound book that was more than a hand-span thick, filled with ledgers.

The ledgers could have been financial records for a business, except they dealt in people. There were incoming and outgoing columns, as well as other columns with obscure purposes. Moving forward from the back of the book, which was still empty, she found the year and erin of her marriage, where she was listed under “Outgoing.” On the date of her birth, she found her name entered as “Incoming” with numbers and symbols in the fourth column. Curious, she turned to the year and erin of Peri’s birth. His name was an entry in the third column, with more obscure symbols and numbers in the fourth column.

The pages had no legend. She doubted Lady Aracia would translate the symbols and codes, but from a practical viewpoint, she didn’t need to understand them to follow the records. She learned the first number in the fourth column would track back to the ledger entry of the parent, so she understood the relationships well enough. The symbols might indicate terms of contracts between lineages, which were irrelevant for her purposes.

There were references to people outside the Meran lines, even when there wasn’t a contract. Comfort clauses often produced healthy children and, while they welcomed every child, matriarchs had a duty to hunt down each child’s parentage.

She picked a date 30 years in the past and started grinding away. Once in a while she ran into a surprise: someone she hadn’t known she was related to, or the marriage of some distant relative. She was still absorbed in the records when Ponteva knocked. Evening had come. Usko was going home and he’d be following the clerk, hoping other conspirators would make contact. Two other watch members would keep an eye on Usko’s apartments throughout the night.

•••

Without making a conscious decision, Draius found herself walking toward the City Guard barracks that evening. After entering the hall for the officer rooms, she stood at Jan’s door and hesitated, putting a hand on the dark panels. The wood felt smooth, worn by years of oil.

With perfect detail, she remembered another barrack door, one she had been directed to with sly smiles and hints. That door had also been dark, oiled wood, but through it she heard the sounds of her husband and another woman having sex—Jan would later protest no
love
was involved. She’d finally opened the door a crack to peek inside. She didn’t know why she did that. Was she a glutton for punishment, or did she
really
need to verify Jan was inside?

Once the scene was burned into her memory, she’d never be free of it. The room was a single berth and she had a clear view of the bed. Jan lay on his back, straddled by Netta’s lithe body, her long dark hair falling forward over her full breasts and down onto his chest. Netta was petite, and his hands on her hips looked large as he guided her movements. There were gasping words, light laughter, but what came back to Draius’s mind for review again and again would be Jan’s face and his radiant freedom—a look she’d never seen before.

She’d left the door ajar and fled, having to go back through the crowded common room. Her face burned as she hurried through and some of the knowing faces held pity, while some held satisfaction, for Jan had enemies. It was hard to hide secrets within the Guard. Since Jan was meeting another Guard woman and using the barracks for his trysts, he might as well have conducted his affair outside in the public square.

She took a deep breath. Jan would say this was all in the past and finally, she would agree. It wasn’t because she could forgive him—she doubted she ever would, for any of his liaisons. But she now knew the answer to the question Lornis had posed to her:
Yes, I can truly stop loving someone
.

She tapped on the door and opened it when Jan called out. He was sitting in a chair reading. He looked up, surprise running across his face before he set it into a warm welcoming smile.
He was hoping to see me, but he’d rather have chosen the time and place.

“Come in, Draius,” he said, standing.

She stepped inside the room, closed the door, but remained leaning against the doorjamb.

When Jan saw she wasn’t going to come any further into the room, he sat down again and put his book aside on a knee-high tobacco humidor, now performing its only role since he didn’t care for pipes. The officer rooms were simple but elegant, fulfilling the needs of most single officers. There were two leather chairs, a desk, and a sideboard with several stocked flasks. The door to the bedchamber was closed, but she knew officers of Jan’s rank usually had a comfortable bed and bath, with bells to ring housekeeping and valet service.

Jan’s eyes flickered over her face, but otherwise he called no attention to her injuries, as she expected. She didn’t say anything and the room was silent.

“Do you need something? Is Peri okay?” Jan sounded awkward, a rare event. He never liked to be the first to speak.

“Peri’s fine. I wanted to discuss the attack on Lornis near the Great Hall several nights ago.”

“Ah, I heard about that. Those ruffians certainly had balls, attacking Guard officers like that.”

“Those
ruffians
went out of their way to avoid hurting me. They were well trained and armed with short swords. Not typical thugs.”
And if you were a typical husband, you’d have rushed to my side to make sure the mother of your son was unharmed—but you didn’t have to do that, did you?

His expression altered only slightly, and she might be the only person who could have recognized the change. He was wary. By the Horn, she’d half hoped she was wrong.

“So what are you insinuating?” Jan got up and went to the sideboard to get a drink and in that action, betrayed himself. He hardly ever drank hard spirits. There was one exception: when he was nervous about his performance, such as before a Guard competence test, he would have a bit of distilled liquor to calm his nerves.

It was a sad commentary on their marriage that she only knew her husband due to her acute observation skills. He poured himself a finger of brandy and savored it. She stayed quiet while he finished the drink, gathering her thoughts and playing the waiting game she’d learned from him.

“There are rumors of Groygan spies walking about our streets, looking like Tyrrans. Surely you’re not falling for that drama.” His voice was smooth and confident—he was ready to play the game.

That’s the difference between you and me, Jan. My life, and my son’s life, are not games
. Aloud, she said, “No, these were professionals. I had to kill one of them. That might not mean much to you, but it does to me, even if he was nunetton. Especially when his body showed up in the canals bearing the mark of Haversar.”

Something flickered in his face, too quick to assess, when she spoke that name.
Haversar
: a name rarely mentioned between them. A name one always avoided speaking when on the streets. No one else within the Guard, except Draius, knew the history between Haversar and Jan. And very few in the sister cities knew that Jan saved a friend from drowning when they were both only eight years old, a friend who eventually dropped his connections to family and lineage, became nunetton, and took the anonymous name of Haversar.

“So? You got rid of some canal scum.” Jan flicked his fingers dismissively.

“I know Haversar owes you life-debt.”

“Are you accusing me of being involved in the attack?” He exploded off the chair, but she was ready. Another part of the game: react violently, suddenly, and make her back down.

She held her ground. “Those men had weapons training, as well as a new musket from some Guard armory. The captain is trying his best to ignore those facts because he hopes there’s no Guard involvement.”

“The captain’s focused on the murders, as you should be.” Jan calmed down in a heartbeat, performing the seesaw of emotions that used to bewilder her. His mouth twisted in a sneer. “You don’t think the captain
expects
you to succeed, do you? Can’t you see that you’re fated to be nothing more than a sacrifice to public opinion, someone to blame?”