The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1) (33 page)

The wastrel seemed amused and muttered, “Rafe’s leavings,” under his breath as he set off once more. Seth stumbled as he followed, going cold as he remembered Nolah’s instructions to the sobbing girl on the upper floor. Refusing to consider what else might be secreted in the black depths of this cold, clammy tunnel, he hurried on.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever and not a glimmer of light reached their eyes. It was only wide enough for one man—both Seth’s elbows touched the dripping walls—but there were no more obstructions underfoot. Fearful of losing his way in the dark, Seth trod so closely behind the wastrel that the charnel reek was constantly in his nostrils. He could even feel the occasional brush of the grubby cloak against his legs.

Despite his burden and the exertion of the walk, Seth was cold. The air was damp and chill with the seeping cold of winter leaking through from somewhere above their heads. Occasionally, Seth could hear the drip of water and feel a movement of fresher air on his cheek. The tunnel must have vents to the outer world, or maybe its structure was unsound. He shied away from that thought. Being buried below ground if the tunnel should give way wasn’t a happy thought. He wanted to ask how much farther they had to go, but decided against it. He simply hitched the whore’s dead weight higher on his aching shoulder and walked in silence.

The air in the tunnel eventually changed. Seth caught the scent of damp trees and wet earth, and surmised they must be outside the city limits. He allowed himself a sigh of relief. This was expelled as a deep grunt when he cannoned into the back of the vagrant, who had come to a dead halt with no warning.

“Watch it, idiot! Gods, but you’re useless.”

Seth muttered an apology and backed off, his aching arms pleading to be released of their burden. He heard the wastrel fumbling about in the darkness. It sounded as if he was digging in the ground, or scrabbling at the walls. And then Seth felt a rush of freezing air and could dimly see the night sky before him.

“Come on, man,” the vagrant hissed.

Seth hurried out of the tunnel, finding himself in a small cave with bushes at its entrance. He turned around quickly, but the bulk of the whore’s body blocked his sight and he didn’t see the closure of the tunnel behind him.

“Where are we?” he whispered, uncaring of the vagrant’s censure.

“Just on the edge of the master’s estate.” For once, there was no sneer in the vagrant’s voice. “Put her down, man, your arms must be half-dead.”

Seth raised his brows at this unexpected show of concern. His arms were painful indeed, as was his back, and he laid the body down, rubbing his aching muscles. “What now?”

“Once you’ve rested, we carry on to the mansion. I trust you can get us inside the house without being seen?”

“Of course. The mistress will be in her rooms after dinner and the only other servant in the house will be that slut of a housekeeper.”

“Ah yes.” Amusement colored the wastrel’s tone. “The housekeeper. I take it you don’t approve of her employment in the master’s household?”

Seth didn’t even notice his companion’s dismissal of Jinny’s right to the mansion. His indignation at Alice’s appointment came surging to the fore.

“Approve? Of course I don’t approve! She’s had no training except in how to lie on her back and spread her legs. She’s only there because of pity and ignorance. Housekeeper! She couldn’t even keep her own maidenhead.”

The filthy man smiled. “Calm down, man, I know how you feel. Well, tonight’s your opportunity to do something about it. I have specific instructions concerning the master’s niece, but none whatsoever about the housekeeper, except to be rid of her. What do you think? Can you take care of it?”

Seth stilled, regarding his companion steadily. “What’re you going to do?”

The wastrel shook his head. “Not yet. Come on, enough rest. We must get to the mansion and hide that body till we need it. You think about what I’ve said and make up your mind. When the time’s right, there’ll be no more chances. Either you deal with the slut or I will. The choice is yours. Now hurry up.”

Seth gathered up the whore’s cooling body. It didn’t repulse him as much as when it was warm, and he reflected on what the vagrant had said as he once more followed his unsavory companion. He had been correct in his assumption that there would be more violence done this night. He was already a part of it, and neither his wasted friend nor his absent master would betray Seth’s involvement. So why not settle a few scores? Why not strike a blow for his master? Why not relieve the burden of injustice the Baron’s false indictment had raised in Seth’s breast?

How satisfying it would be, he thought, to see the fear in Alice’s eyes, to watch her realize she was about to pay for usurping a position under his master’s roof.

Yes, he admitted to himself, very satisfying indeed.

S
ofira made her way through the dark halls of Lerric’s palace until she came to the curtained stairway leading to the lower floor. She knew she would be unobserved. Elias’s messenger wouldn’t be prowling the palace—not with Captain Bassan keeping an eye on him. Bassan knew better than to let his lord down.

Parting the heavy folds of cloth concealing the door, Sofira pulled it open. She descended the dark stair, lit only by a single torch fluttering in its sconce halfway down. It was barely adequate, but she’d grown used to the dim hallways and stairwells. Besides, it was winter. All large, stone buildings were dark in winter. It was too expensive to heat and light unfrequented areas at this time of year.

Reaching the ground floor, she started toward the doorway to her betrothed’s private rooms. She was surprised to see one of his personal servants sitting just outside. They were usually off doing Reen’s unfathomable bidding. She wrinkled her nose as she came closer. Why he couldn’t get them to wash, she had no idea.

The man looked up as she approached, his expression bordering on insolent. She had learned that such emotions or reactions were beyond these men now; they only portrayed what the Baron felt and possessed no independent thought. The power he held over them was part of what he had become, although she didn’t really understand it. It had to do with why he was now ready to take his revenge on those who had wronged him.

Gazing into the servant’s blank eyes, Sofira shivered. As much as she shared and supported Reen’s thirst for vengeance, this strange power of his left her nervous and cold. She had long ago accepted that Sullyan’s shocking revelation during his trial was indeed true. Reen possessed similar, if embryonic, powers to that of the Artesan woman. And although they repulsed Sofira, she acknowledged the aptness of Reen learning to use them against his archenemy. Yet the thought of his body and mind being infused with these arcane and unnatural powers unsettled her. She had to fight to ignore their obvious effects on him whenever she spoke with him.

He had told her it was the unnaturally forced acknowledgment of his birthright that had so warped and changed his body. His suffering and torment were entirely due to the occult energies the vengeful witch had wakened in his soul. Sofira wept when he described his titanic, desperate struggle to retain any of his natural being. He had brought her to her knees with the tale of how he awakened in the night, screaming, terrifying visions of the burning Wheel of Perdition hanging before his ruined eyes. How he pleaded piteously for deliverance from his torment. And how he had been vouchsafed the only route to salvation: the casting down and utter destruction of his archenemy.

Sofira believed and trusted him utterly. Hadn’t she heard some of those terrifying screams? And if they hadn’t, at first, sounded like the Baron’s voice, she only had to think on the dreadful torture he had suffered and the hideous deformation of his body to understand why his voice should be so changed. His moving confession of his darkest fears and terrible weaknesses only served to strengthen her desire to succor him, to aid him, to throw all her weight and support behind him in a fervent effort to restore him to his rightful state.

Now she stood before his door, the parchment from Blaine in her hand, contemplating his reaction to her news. Would he be nervous and afraid, as she was? Would he be furious? Would he rant and rage at her, as he sometimes did when the pressures of his condition were too much for him to bear? Or would he be calculating and calm, as she so loved to see him? There was only one way to find out.

She regarded the seated servant. “I would speak with your master.”

He turned blank eyes on her then spoke. “The master bids you enter.”

Sofira went cold. This was the first time she had seen firm evidence of the unnatural connection Reen had with his servants. Until now, he had guarded the reality of his abilities, but maybe her sympathetic reaction to his piteous story and her avowal of love and loyalty had eased those restrictions. Much as she needed him to trust her, she could almost wish they hadn’t.

Eyes wide, Sofira pushed the door open. A dim glow of firelight met her gaze, but the room was draped in shadow. This was normal. She knew she would never see her beloved in full light. She’d come to think of the shadows as dark friends, wrapping and protecting the man she loved. The amber glow of embers was mysterious and romantic, speaking to the little girl buried far within her bitter soul.

“Come in, my love. I hadn’t expected to see you again this day.”

The low voice came out of the far corner where a high-backed chair was pulled close to the fire. She moved into his lair, her satin gown whispering across the carpet, and came to stand before his chair.

Reen smiled up at her. The dim firelight softened the planes of his face, almost as if the skin were sloughing off, and it must be an effect of the embers to make it look mottled and ruined. He held out his hand to her and she felt his wasted fingers.

“My love, I had to come. There’s been a development.”

He frowned. “Oh? And what is that?”

She showed him the parchment. “The messenger arrived but half an hour ago. I came to you as soon as I could. They will arrive before noon tomorrow.”

He indicated she should read it out, his ruined eyes no good for such work, and she swiftly told him what the parchment contained. He gasped, his bony fingers gripping the arms of the chair so hard they appeared like fleshless claws. His nails tore the fabric. She could see the tremble of his body and registered the intense fear in his ruined eyes. Her voice faltered to silence, the only sound his hoarse breath.

“My love?” she ventured.

Reen stirred, coughed harshly. He spat a filthy imprecation, causing Sofira to flinch. She’d expected some such reaction, yet the venom in his tone was vicious. He looked utterly, completely, terrified.

He ignored her hovering, muttering furiously under his breath. “I am not ready! It is too soon! They’ll sniff out my secrets, question my servants. What of events in Port Loxton, what of my plans there? How will I find the strength—”

Sofira, unnerved by his prattling, laid a tentative hand on his arm. “What can I do to help you, my love? I will do whatever you tell me. I can be clever, you know I can! Just tell me how you wish this handled, and I will do it.”

He rounded on her, eyes blazing, spittle flying from his lips. “And Lerric? What of your craven father? Will he do as he’s bid? Does he realize his future, as well as yours, lies in obeying my commands? Does he, Sofira?”

She gazed at him earnestly. “He does, my love. But I will remind him again. He’ll not let us down, Hezra, I pledge you that.”

“He’d better not! One false move while Elias is here and all of our plans are ruined. Not only that, but both your lives will be forfeit for harboring a convicted traitor. As for me— Well, you know what fate will befall me, do you not? For it was you who begged it for me. Do you remember? Do you recall how you pleaded for my torture, my death, for the dreadful torment of the Wheel? Do you?”

She stared in dismay, his fury and scorn whipping her heart, scoring it with pain. She covered her face, tears leaking between her fingers.

Through her misery she heard his harsh breathing, heard it slow to gasps. Finally, Reen touched her on the arm, his voice calmer.

“Sofira, my only love, please forgive me. I was overwrought. I forgot myself. I don’t blame you for your actions that day. I know you acted under duress. You were protecting your children and your position, as a Queen and mother should. It’s just that I’m so weak, so vulnerable, and the thought of having to skulk away in hiding while they parade their haughty pride above me fills my soul with fear. Come, my lady. Look at me.”

His carefully worded apology worked its usual charm. She couldn’t resist his tugging at her conscience and playing on her love. She dropped her hands and gazed on the gentle smile he displayed for her benefit.

“There, my lady! With your help and strength I will endure. Their presence here—and especially that of my archenemy—will pain me beyond measure, but with your help—” She stirred and he frowned. “What is it, Sofira?”

“Oh, my love, I should have told you at once.
She
won’t be here. Elias is bringing Blaine with him and his major; you know, the one who killed your spy at the Manor and spoke for the injured cadet at the trial. But your real enemy—the witch—
she
isn’t coming.”

Reen swooned, and she barely caught his shoulders. It was fleeting and he soon recovered, but in that brief moment Sofira saw something grotesque, something horrific. Instead of the man she loved, she held a monster in her arms, a scabrous, leprous parody of a man with decaying skin and scarecrow limbs. Her hands flew once more to her mouth and she stepped away with a tiny scream.

Reen stood shakily, passing a hand across his brow. He looked frightened and hastened to reassure her.

“I am so sorry, Sofira, my love. I never wanted you to see that. It is
her
influence, her curse upon me. This is what I’ve had to live with these past years. I’ve been protecting you, hiding it from you. It is illusion only—yes, she’s that powerful—but this is what she would have me become. This is why I need your support and your love. If I thought her malice could destroy your love for me, turn you against me, then I couldn’t go on. I’d cease striving against her might and cast myself onto the Wheel of Perdition. It would be preferable to losing your love.”