The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 2 Blood Honor and Dreams (45 page)

“His injuries are the result of his failure,”
Lord Avanti said loudly, his gaze fixed on Truce. Truce nodded
slightly, not understanding in the least what his father was
talking about but knowing better than to mention that fact. He
watched his father pour a large tumbler of brandy and waited
patiently for the man to continue. “Something that seems to be
happening with more frequency in this house,” his father added, his
gaze falling on Sovaesh now.

Sovaesh stood straight, his eyes locked on
the High Lord. If there was any remorse in the Assassin’s heart,
Truce saw no sign of it. As always, he wore the long trench coat as
well as his mask and hood. His arms were folded inside the coat and
Truce had the uneasy feeling they rested on weapons.

“What is going on?” Nallia whispered as she
shifted her stance, leaning more heavily on his arm. He shook his
head slowly and pulled his wife closer.

“Nathan was charged to bring me the Fionaveir
bastard and in the process of his failure he managed to lose six
fighters as well as a transport and, of course, we cannot forget
the gold we paid the Rivasans for the rebel,” Lord Avanti said, his
gaze falling on his youngest son once more. “Tell your brother what
mighty army it took to defeat you, Nathan.”

Nate shifted again and let out a disgusted
sigh. Truce felt sympathy for his brother. While they didn’t always
get along, it was never pleasant to be on Father’s bad side.
“Christian Morcaillo destroyed the ships and stole the prisoner. I
recognized his ship,” Nate said, his voice quiet and filled with
anger.

“One single solitary boy destroyed our fleet
as well as the Rivasan escort, and you were able to do nothing to
stop it,” Lord Avanti pressed.

“No one was, Father. There was a dragon there
as well and Christian used some magic to make her head explode. It
was terrible, Father. I watched the corpse fall to the waves.”
Nate’s voice rose as he spoke and he seemed desperate to regain
their Father’s approval.

“You disgust me,” Lord Avanti said, his
expression echoing his words perfectly. Shaking his head slowly, he
turned to regard Sovaesh once more. “And you,” he began, his tone
changing from disgust to anger. “I understand you threatened my
daughter.”

“If she took it as a threat, you have my
apologies. It was meant as a warning,” Sovaesh said calmly.

“You are not in the position to be offering
either to any of the Avanti house. You are a servant. Do not let
your daughter’s marriage to my son cloud your eyes to your station
in life Sovaesh.” Lord Avanti’s voice rose with the words and he
stood behind the desk. Bracing his hands on the solid oak, he
leaned toward the Assassin with fury clear on his face. “I had
thought that we had an understanding, Sovaesh, but it appears we
don’t. I have heard whispers of your feelings on my actions and I
will not be judged by the likes of you.”

“Whispers, eh?” Sovaesh replied calmly and
Truce felt his body tense. He hadn’t breathed a word about his
private talk to anyone, but Sovaesh would doubtless believe he had.
“Well, I will say it more loudly than a whisper then. I believe you
are acting in error by siding with Morcaillo in this would-be war.
I detest your daughter’s actions and I warned her against moving
further against my son. I think if she presses this conflict Finn
will kill her.”

“Sovaesh, please don’t,” Davahni rose from
her chair quickly, causing it to fall behind her with a loud
clatter. “Milord, please I beg mercy for my husband. He is a proud
man,” she added, moving swiftly forward to bow deeply before the
desk. Truce watched her silently and bit his lower lip to keep
silent. Davahni had been a ward of House Avanti since before he was
born and by rights, should have been nearly a sister to him, and
yet she was obviously terrified of his Father.

“Your wife has better sense than you do,”
Lord Avanti said, a smile forming as he gazed down at Davahni.
“Beautiful and intelligent. Very few men are so blessed, Sovaesh.
You should have listened to her before now.” He stood straight
again as he spoke and looked down at the kneeling woman with
pitiless eyes. “I have no more mercy for your husband. I’m sorry.
Davahni. I’m afraid I’ve entirely run out of pity today.” His gaze
trailed across his two sons and then lingered on Truce. “What do
you do with a dog that threatens to bite its master, Truce?”

“If the dog is a good hunter and has been
faithful in the past, you try to determine what is causing the
aggression and fix the problem there. Such creatures are hard to
replace, father,” Truce answered carefully, taking care to keep his
eyes on his father and away from Sovaesh.

His Father regarded him coolly and then
turned to Nate. “And your answer?”

“You find a stronger method of training the
dog and if it still wishes to bite, you kill it and find one with
better manners,” Nate replied with a slight smile.

“Ahh, well, it reassures me to know at least
one of my sons has common sense. This is why your sister is in
charge in Sanctuary rather than you, Truce. Too often lately, I
have found you disappointing. Perhaps I should consider naming a
new heir. Though you do have a head for business, perhaps you would
make a worthy steward for your Brother.” He opened a drawer as he
spoke and removed a slender wooden box from inside. It was barely
bigger than a small book but Truce knew the sight of it too well.
His gaze flicked to Sovaesh once again and then to the wooden box.
Panic began to rise in his chest as his father started to undo the
fastenings.

“Father, no, you can’t mean to use that on
Sovaesh,” he protested, pulling his arm back from his wife and
stepping forward.

Lord Avanti’s gaze rose from the box to his
son and he smiled coldly. “Actually, I’m going to let Sovaesh
choose.” He pushed the lid of the box fully open and turned it to
where the Assassin could see the contents. Then he looked down at
Dahlla who stood silently staring with wide eyes. “I no longer
trust your motives, Sovaesh, so I will have insurance to your good
behavior. I can either keep your wife and daughters here with me or
you can choose the box. I have no doubt that you know what this
is,” he said as he lifted the long silver chain from the desk and
held it up.

“Please, no, Milord,” Davahni begged, though
Truce thought he was the only one in the room that even looked at
the woman. The others simply ignored her, despite the tears that
were coursing openly down her face. Truce felt his heart go out to
her and frantically sought for a way to avert this disaster.

To one unfamiliar with such devices, it
looked innocent, merely a slender bit of metal. To those that knew
the purpose of the chain, however, it was a creation of fear.
“Dahlla has grown into quite the beauty. I’m sure you realize that
a girl of her potential only rises as far as society will allow.
She could have a very promising betrothal or a future much darker
…” Lord Avanti’s voice trailed off ominously and his gaze returned
to Sovaesh. “What will it be?” he asked sweetly, as if awaiting a
selection of wine rather than a man’s future.

“Father, perhaps Dahlla could simply stay
with Nallia and me and surely that would be insurance enough,”
Truce offered stepping forward once more.

“Truce, if I thought you had a spine,
perhaps, but no, I don’t think so.” His father’s voice was mocking
and Truce felt his skin prickle with warning. If he didn’t watch
his actions more closely in the future he could find himself
standing in the same spot as Sovaesh.

The Assassin’s gaze never wavered from his
father. He simply removed his coat and dropped it on the edge of
the desk. Silently he pulled the mask and hood off as well. Truce
stared in open astonishment at the man, not quite believing the
choice he had obviously made. He had never before seen his
Father-in-law without the mask and found it difficult to not stare
at his face. While it was obvious Sovaesh had been handsome once,
the thick scars marring both cheeks drew the eye and held it.
Whoever had carved the sigil into the skin had used Tevrae and the
herb had prevented proper healing. He knew the rune carved there
well enough, it was the Firym mark for exile, or
Sovaesh
as
they said the word.

“Sovaesh, no, don’t do this. We will stay
here,” Davahni cried and rose to her feet, rushing to her husband’s
side. She shook her head at him frantically and tried to pull him
away.

“It’s OK, Davi. It will be fine,” Sovaesh
told her quietly in a voice so filled with love it made Truce’s
throat tighten. The rumors about what Sovaesh had endured to win
the right to marry Davahni had always seemed too fanciful to his
ears. Now, however, Truce found himself believing them all. Sovaesh
kissed Davahni gently on the forehead and wiped the worst of the
tears from her pale face. “Trust me and know that I love you and
Dahlla too much to risk either of you.” He pushed her back gently
toward their daughter.

“Momma, what is going on?” Dahlla asked
quietly, tears beginning to form in her green eyes. It was obvious
the child was confused but knew something very bad was coming.

“Hush, Dahlla,” Davahni whispered and
clutched her daughter to her.

“How touching,” Nate mocked and Truce glared
at his brother. There were times he found himself wondering if he
was adopted. Now was definitely one of those times. It seemed he
was the only one in his family that actually possessed a heart.

“Fetch the guards to hold him,” Lord Avanti
ordered and Nate nodded quickly, a smile on his battered face.

“I don’t need to be held,” Sovaesh objected
and braced his hands on the desk. “Just get it done with,” he
added, his gaze locking on Lord Avanti.

“So be it,” the Lord said with a faint smile
and then dropped the chain back into the box. With a faint smile he
pushed the box idly toward the edge of the desk and looked directly
at Truce. “Do it,” he ordered in a voice that brooked no
arguments.

Truce hesitated. He wanted nothing to do with
any of this and the idea of using the chain sickened him. He
swallowed heavily and considered holding his ground.

“I’ll do it,” Nate offered happily, already
moving toward the box.

“Your brother will do it,” their father said,
his voice firm and his eyes still locked on Truce.

“Do it, Truce,” Sovaesh whispered.

With a sick feeling in his stomach, Truce
moved forward and picked up the chain. It seemed light in his hands
despite what it was. Taking a deep breath he moved to stand behind
Sovaesh and lifted the chain. To his surprise his hands were not
shaking as he carefully lowered the device and placed it along the
man’s back.

“Make sure it lines properly. I have no wish
to be a cripple,” Sovaesh said quietly, his voice holding no anger
at all.

Truce nodded and adjusted the chain to as
close to perfect as he could manage. His gaze lingered on the faint
marks crossing the man’s pale skin and he realized the stories
about Sovaesh were, in fact, true. These lash marks were further
proof of it. Unable to keep himself from looking, he tilted his
head slightly to get a glimpse of Sovaesh’s arms. Around each wrist
the skin was puckered with manacle scars. He swallowed heavily
again and tried to fight down the sick feeling that was building in
his gut. Despite everything the Assassin had endured to prove his
loyalty, he was still being forced into this.

“I don’t want to stand like this all day,
Truce,” Sovaesh growled.

Truce felt himself nod despite the fact that
the man obviously couldn’t see him and checked the alignment of the
chain once more. He spoke the command word for the device in a
barely audible voice and watched the metal sink into the man’s
back.

It would wrap around the spine with delicate
tendrils of wire. He knew how the item functioned well enough from
his lessons. This was the first time he had ever seen one used on
anyone but a slave, though. They were usually reserved for those
that were of very little value to the house. There was always a
risk that they would damage the spine if the one placing the chain
wasn’t paying enough attention. With a disobedient slave however it
scarcely mattered. The general belief was it saved the slaver the
trouble of having to kill the slave if it failed, and if it worked,
well then you had a very obedient slave. Truce had never even heard
whispers of a “chained” slave becoming unruly.

He stepped back from the desk once more and
watched with held breath as the Assassin once again stood straight.
If there was any damage or pain the man didn’t show it. Truce had
always heard that the chaining process was excruciating, but
Sovaesh hadn’t made a sound. Perhaps it was mental pain they spoke
of, the knowledge that you had just lost all hope and free
will.

“Well then, I’m so glad that is over with.
Here is a new list of your marks, Sovaesh. I realize that you will
be unable to reach some of them due to the barrier over Sanctuary
but do see that the others on the list are dead soon.” Lord
Avanti’s voice was light and chipper now and Truce simply stared at
his father in disbelief.

Sovaesh looked down at the offered paper and
only hesitated a moment before accepting it. With a neutral
expression he scanned the list of names and then nodded to his
Lord. Still silent, he began to dress himself once more, moving a
bit gingerly as he pulled his shirt on. His gaze tracked Lord
Avanti and Nate as they left the room, talking quietly with each
other as they walked. When the door had closed behind them he
looked to Truce and smiled faintly.

“My daughter chose well in you, Truce. You
are a good man despite your name. I hope you don’t cry when I kill
those bastards though.” He winked and continued getting dressed
while Truce gaped at him.

The man was chained now, though he didn’t
seem to realize the implications. If he made any move outside of
the Lord’s pleasure the chain would snap his spine in several
pieces and bore into his mind. The death was a horrible one and
inescapable, no matter how fast you healed. “I’m so sorry this
happened,” Truce said quietly, unsure if he was talking to Sovaesh
or everyone in the room.