The Shadow Games: The Chronicles of Arianthem VI (6 page)

The Emperor assessed her. The rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes confirmed what his Knight Commander had told him: the girl was hardly a prisoner. She was a gorgeous little thing, however, and he lamented the fact that the Alfar had found her first. She would have made a marvelous addition to his court.

The chit-chat between the Emperor and his guests seemed to be going well, so Raine’s eyes began to wander once more. Her gaze was again drawn to the dark-clothed figure at the Emperor’s side, one who hovered but in an almost invisible manner, like some great raven blending into foliage. And the black garbed woman also was perusing the room, and her gaze seemed to settle on Raine.

“Seemed” was the appropriate description because Raine could not see her face or her eyes, but she had the distinct impression that the perusal of the room had stopped, and stopped abruptly, on her. Raine felt a finger of unease trace its way down her spine. The woman could no more see Raine than she could see her; they were both cloaked and hidden. But the woman’s inspection was pronounced and did not waver. Raine did not turn away, either, and the two were locked in a strange, mutual examination in which nothing could be seen.

Thankfully, a commotion at the entrance drew all attention. The court crier made an announcement.

“The court welcomes the Baroness of Fireside.”

Raine grinned. That’s right, the place had come with a title, which she had forgotten.

All eyes were drawn to the noblewoman who walked, or rather sauntered into the room. She wore the raiment of a queen with the sultriness of vixen. Full breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline that plunged nearly to her navel, and her head was crowned with a circlet that so inappropriately mimicked a halo. Long, lustrous dark hair flowed down her back, complementing lustrous dark eyes and luscious red lips. She moved gracefully up the steps toward the Emperor, leaving a trail of scorched marble, or so it would seem, in her wake.

The Emperor was stunned, for this was a woman of dark fantasy, whose laughing eyes said they could fulfill every desire but the price would be oh-so-high. His guards, in fact, most of his court, stood gaping.

Nerthus looked as if she were choking on something. She grew flushed, and when long dark eyelashes flicked in her direction, the choking sound was nearly audible. Bristol looked up at the ceiling, and Dagna found a nearby sculpture suddenly fascinating. Feyden was as expressionless as always, although the corner of his mouth twitched. Maeva raised one fine eyebrow and decided to take the lead.

“Baroness,” she said, extending her hand, “it is good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Madame Directorate,” Idonea said, “it is always a pleasure.”

Kiren stepped forward and gave Idonea a quick hug. “Baroness,” she said a little more formally, stepping back.

“Hello little one,” Idonea said with evident fondness.

Now the Emperor was completely bewildered. How in the world did the elven ambassador know one of the wealthiest citizens in the empire? One whom he had not even met? And the association made him more than a little apprehensive, for the two women in front of him, the Baroness of Fireside and the Lady Storr, possessed more wealth combined than was in the imperial coffers.

Maeva turned to the Emperor, sensing his unease and wishing to contribute to it. “Your Majesty, may I present my dear friend, the Baroness of Fireside.”

Idonea gave a low curtsy and despite his polished manners, the Emperor’s eyes went to the cleavage that was exposed, as did everyone else’s.

“It is my pleasure, your Majesty.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” the Emperor said, his senses returning.

Raine watched the performance with delight. She had debated using Idonea as her substitute because Idonea had created quite a stir while assisting at the Mage’s Academy a short time ago. But Raine reasoned that although Idonea might be recognized from those events, there was no reason why she could not be that woman and the owner of Fireside as well. And Idonea’s full identity was still unknown to most, which was good, for it was far more astonishing to be the protégé of the most powerful wizard in Arianthem and the daughter of a dragon than it was to be the Baroness of Fireside. Raine wondered what the Emperor would think if he realized that Idonea was also in Dagna’s poem, right alongside Feyden.

Feyden slipped in beside Raine, having made his way to the back of the room as surreptitiously as possible. “That was your solution?”

“Yes,” Raine said, “and to make it as legitimate as possible, I signed over the deed this morning.”

“You gave her Fireside?”

“I did. She is my daughter, in a sense, so everything that is mine is hers, anyway.”

Dagna also slipped in beside Raine. “You do like to live dangerously.”

Raine grinned. “This is perfect. Idonea enjoys this sort of thing. She can now toy with the imperial court at will and come and go as she pleases.” Raine sobered a bit and scanned the room; the hovering black specter had disappeared. “Dagna, who was the woman at the Emperor’s side, the one in the dark cloak?”

Dagna also sobered. “Her name is Malron’a. She is the Emperor’s most trusted advisor.”

“More trusted than Nerthus?”

“Yes,” Dagna said, “but no. They advise on completely different matters. Nerthus advises him on foreign affairs, domestic policies. Malron’a is a seer, an oracle of sorts.”

“Most oracles I have met are charlatans,” Feyden commented.

“She is not,” Dagna said. “Her words are sometimes obscure, but I have never known them to be false.”

Dagna’s tone was uncharacteristically wary, as if she were uneasy speaking of Malron’a. And for the buxom, carefree bard who chattered and gossiped about everything, this was significant.

“You dislike her?” Raine asked.

“No. I don’t like or dislike her. She—,” Dagna paused, as if trying to formulate words for her feelings. “She is difficult to grasp, to get a sense of. She has neither friends nor enemies and keeps to herself. She has been in the court for years.”

“I confess I didn’t even see her,” Feyden said.

Raine glanced at him in surprise. Feyden missed nothing.

“I believe your sister is trying to get your attention,” Dagna said, grabbing Feyden’s arm and pointing across the room. “Let me escort you back over there before she exiles you.”

Raine was left alone in the back of the room once more and positioned herself near the doorway with her back to the wall. She resumed her perusal of the room’s occupants, mildly entertained. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed comfortably over her chest. Although she was still alert to potential danger, everything seemed calm.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She pushed herself upright. There was a presence next to her in the doorway, one that had slipped up beside her nearly imperceptibly. Very slowly, Raine turned her head to look at the dark-cloaked figure next to her.

She could see a face that possessed a funereal beauty, ancient yet ageless. Pale eyes that were neither green nor blue, arched eyebrows, a fine, aquiline nose, sharp cheekbones. And Raine’s hood had slipped slightly and now the woman could see her as well. The pale eyes examined her with the same thorough scrutiny.

Raine said nothing, simply stood there as the woman examined her from head to toe, and Raine felt the markings on her arms and back rise to the surface, the blue and gold filigree woven beneath her skin that marked her as Scinterian, the scars she hid to disguise her heritage, the scars that marked her as one of the most deadly creatures in all of Arianthem. And Raine was thankful for her cloak, for the markings were still hidden when danger made them appear against her wish.

“Are you cold?”

The words were mocking, the tone sensual, a casual question that was anything but. Raine’s breath came out as ice, visible in the warm air, and the woman looked at the phenomenon with considerable amusement. Then, without another word, she turned away and disappeared through the doorway.

Raine leaned back against the wall and pulled her hood close about her face, then stared out into the full room at nothing. She was not afraid, for little frightened her. But she was troubled by the strange encounter. When purity met pure evil, the result, strangely enough, was always cold.

And right now, Raine was freezing.

Much later, Raine lie in her bed in Fireside, staring up at the ceiling. Feyden had returned to the elven embassy with his sister. Lorifal was passed out in the main hall in front of the fireplace, having spent the day carousing with Rika and Dallan. The two Ha’kan had retired to their quarters early. Idonea had returned late, entertained Raine with a recount of an illicit encounter in an alcove with the Knight Commander, then made as if to retire herself. Raine asked her if she had noticed anyone odd at the gathering. Idonea related she had felt the presence of dark magic, but confessed she had been distracted and did not see anyone.

So Raine lie in her bed staring at the flickering light from the fire on her ceiling. She was restless, unable to form any coherent thoughts about the Emperor’s advisor, or about their strange encounter. It seemed random by design, an arranged exchange without meaning, or at least without a meaning she could decipher.

She sat up abruptly. Then, with growing conviction, she donned her armor and set out into the night.

Raine used the credentials Nerthus had provided her to get through the main gate of the castle. She then slipped through the palace with very little effort, something that would have spoken ill of the imperial guard had her skill not been so great. But Raine rivaled the Tavinter in their stealth and she moved by several cohorts without being seen. Her path was guided by instinct, by the ability to separate thought from action when the thought was unproductive and unclear. She simply moved in the direction she needed to go. She stopped when she was where she needed to be.

“I was wondering when you would respond to my invitation.”

The tone was low, the voice silky, mesmerizing. The figure was still cloaked and just the outline of the woman could be seen in the shadows.

“Perhaps you should extend it more explicitly,” Raine said, wary.

“And yet here you are.”

As she said this, the woman stepped into the light. Her hood was now lowered and her features were framed with long, black hair that contrasted with her pale eyes. The nearby torchlight reflected in those eyes and gave her features a nocturnal splendor. Now that she was visible, Raine could see she possessed a beauty much like that of her love. Not that Talan and this woman looked alike; they were very different in appearance. But where most tended to shrink and diminish with age, these two had aged superbly.

“And why am I here?” Raine asked.

“You are seeking information. I am an Oracle. I provide information.”

Raine did not wish to confirm or deny the woman’s assertion that she was seeking something. It could have been a fishing expedition, a bluff. Yet still, the woman seemed to know a great deal about her, or at least pretended to.

“At what cost?”

“A simple task. Something that would please the Emperor greatly. There is a cave in Digranes. It houses a nest of thieves, brigands. I will provide you a map. Destroy them, and I will tell you what I know.”

Raine assessed the strange woman who looked at her so expectantly, who clearly wanted to play a game. Thieves and brigands could be handled by imperial soldiers or paid mercenaries.

“And why do you ask this of me?”

The oracle gave her another searing, once-over. “Because you are particularly suited for this task. Although,” she said, pausing, “You might want to take more than that elf and that dwarf.”

The coldness returned to Raine. This woman did know a great deal about her. But she was not one to be intimidated.

“If the elf and the dwarf are insufficient,” Raine said, “then perhaps I will go alone.”

Raine did not go alone. She took both Feyden and Lorifal, checked twice to see that they wore their amulets, and ensured she had more than sufficient supply of the ointment Elyara had provided. She rubbed herself with lavender and encouraged her companions to do the same.

“This feels like a trap,” Feyden said.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Raine said, a little exasperated. “This is the most obvious trap I’ve ever walked into. I expect this place to be crawling with vampyres, and they probably know we’re coming.”

Lorifal buried his great axe in the earth and put his hand on his hip. “So I’m guessing you have a plan.”

“I always do.”

Feyden watched Raine sneak down a ledge toward the center of the well-lit cave. He did not like this plan at all. They had easily dispatched the four sentries without raising the alarm, and they were indeed vampyre. The good thing about decapitation is that, done properly, it was a quick and quiet death. Raine had garroted the first two with a length of fine wire, he had slit one’s throat with his dagger, then finished with his sword, and Lorifal had taken the last with one blow with his axe from behind, the blade so sharp the cut was clean, and the only sound a gurgle then a splat as the head went to the ground. They stayed long enough to ensure the undead were really dead, then moved on.

And now Raine was sneaking down into the viper’s nest on her own. Feyden knew she could handle herself; weaker vampyres were no worse than Hyr’rok’kin, but they were a lot smarter, and right now, there were a lot of them in the cave. There were also numerous wolves lying about, for vampyres loved to entrance the creatures and use them as thralls. The only reason why Raine had chosen this seemingly reckless course of action was the three human hostages that were caged on the far side of the cave.

One vampyr caught Feyden’s eye. She sniffed the air as if she smelled something, and the others followed her lead. Feyden was very afraid they had caught Raine’s scent. The lavender was to throw off their keen sense of smell as it was a common herb in alchemy. In the past, many used garlic for the same reason, although unfortunately it had gained a folklore status that it could not live up to: once the vampyr knew you were there, the garlic had no power at all.