Baroness of Blood

TWENTY-THREE

When his transformation was complete, no one from Pirie would have recognized Arman as the peasant boy whose body had been lost to the swift waters of the Arvid River. His ruddy face was gaunt; his dancing blue eyes had become cold and distant. With his hair cut and his thin beard neatly trimmed, he wore the blue-and-gold livery of the Obours as if he had always been a part of their guard.

Though he had a place of honor in their ranks, the other guards avoided him, first because they found his sudden arrival odd and his intensity disturbing, later because it was clear that he was Ilsabet's most cunning spy. Anything critical said about her in his presence, even in jest, got back to her. Men were disciplined and drummed out of the guards. One was even beheaded for making what the baroness saw as seditious remarks. Arman's ears were so keen, people did not even whisper in his presence.

Arman's coldness had an unusual affect on women. Most of the serving girls stayed away from him, but a few of the boldest found his aloof demeanor a challenge. He ignored them all, and the girl who accepted a dare and stole into his room one evening was never seen again. After that even the women left him alone.

The only person unaffected by him was the baroness.

She had him with her every day, standing behind her during the afternoons when she received guests and petitioners, during the evenings when she ate. At night he remained outside her door while she slept. When he was relieved at midnight, he often didn't return to his room. No one knew where he went.

Had he been some other man, people might have thought that he had some private access to his lady's bed, but the kind of devotion he showed to Baroness Ilsabet was not that of a lover but of a slave.

Besides, the baroness was certainly pregnant, with a child due in the spring. Though she had never looked so beautiful, flattery seemed to have uttle effect on her. During state dinners and fetes, she often wore a remote expression as if her mind were occupied elsewhere.

In truth, her thoughts were often on the night and Arman.

His brother had reported back to her as she'd instructed. After getting information on the temperament of the people who lived around Pirie, she asked him the important questions:

Food gave Emory some nourishment once a week; more often, he would lie awake with hunger gnawing at his insides until everyone slept. Then he would sneak out of the house and travel into the hills. If he were lucky, he would catch some wild animal to kill. If not, a sheep or dog would suffice. Once when the need was on him, he stumbled on a sleeping beggar. He'd done his best to subdue the man, drink the blood he needed, and let the victim go. The beggar'd had other ideas, and Emory had been forced to kill him.

He readily admitted that the human blood gave the greatest satisfaction, and he hadn't had to leave his house for ten days after.

Arman had less control. He could eat nothing at all and had to seek out blood every other night. Sometimes he roamed the hills as his brother did. Whenever soldiers captured a group of outlaws, Ilsabet would keep them in separate dungeons. After a few days with the damp and the rats, they could always find a prisoner desperate to escape. Arman would offer to show a way out in exchange for gold or information. The man would follow and find himself in the little room where Kashi had died.

With her fear of ghosts kept at bay by the presence of her undead slave, Ilsabet would sit on the bed and watch Arman play with his victim as she had requested, subduing, drinking, letting the man recover, then attacking again. The game would go on night after night until, weakened by the loss of blood, the victim died and was thrown into the river after dark to float downstream.

One of the prisoners, more emotional than the others Arman killed, went insane. They kept him for a week before Ilsabet tired of his screams, decided she needed the room for other things, and ordered Arman to kill him.

Fear was her nourishment, as blood was Arman's. People dismissed her sudden radiance as natural, attributing it to the fact that she was expecting a child. "Brides and future mothers," they would say and comment that once Peto saw her again, he would never leave her side.

With access to Jorani's hidden room, and all that it contained, Ilsabet was working to assure that as well.

With only Arman to guard her, she would sit for hours in the dank guardhouse. The prisoners she'd chosen would be brought one by one to her presence. They'd be offered ale or cider, and food of a quality rarely seen in Kislova, let alone in the dungeons. The questions were vague, about their towns and people.

Many of the prisoners grew to welcome her visits, fawning over her, hoping to be released. But there seemed to be a price for her favor, for her favorites stayed in the dungeons the longest and seemed to adjust most poorly to the darkness and the damp. She wrote in her journal:

Before each visit, I note the dosage of web poison I administer and the vehicle chosen for it. Ingestion gives the quickest and most lethal results, though anyone would know that the victim was murdered through poisoning. Besides, whoever is tasting Peto's food will undoubtedly fall over before Peto ever gets his fork to his mouth.

Breathing in the strands creates a somewhat slower death, but death nonetheless. Though the victim does not die at his supper table, he dies soon after, and the method is noticed. My victim, a burly sheep rustler from Tygelt, sneezed, realized what I had done, screamed some gibberish about his family, and attacked. Arman subdued him and held him tightly while I watched him sicken. When it became clear death was inevitable, I gave him to Arman. Even my mistakes serve their purpose.

On the other hand, touching a minute piece of the web causes illness. Repeated contact makes the victim sicker, but the malaise is so general it can be mistaken for any number of things. The victims fortunate enough to survive these poisonings are released. In the land, my subjects speak of my mercy. I find it amusing.

It has been five months since I conceived. I think of the child, Jorani's child, growing within me, and I take great precautions in my work. Arman is most helpful in this. Since I determined soon after his rebirth that poisons no longer affect him, I don't even get close to my lethal concoc-tions. Instead, Arman mixes them and conducts experiments under my direction. I know he despises this work, but he has no choice. Soon, Peto will come to me. I'll be ready.

Baron Peto, accompanied by Lord Jorani, left for Nimbus Castle a week before the child was due. He deliberately spent some hours dining with the merchants and minor gentry in Pirie so that he would arrive at the castle late at night, when Ilsabet and the household were sleeping.

As soon as he'd settled into the same rooms he'd occupied for so long, he sent for his lieutenant.

Shaul had been awakened as soon as the baron had arrived. Washed and dressed in the black-and-gold livery, he appeared shortly after being summoned, standing at attention until Peto asked him to sit down.

"Your letters were as informative as I'd hoped," Peto commented. "I do need to ask a question, however. In your opinion, how did my wife govern in my absence?"

Shaul's eyes had been fixed on his master's. Now they shifted uneasily to focus on a crystal vase above the mantle. "I hardly know how to answer."

"Look at me and answer honestly. That's all I demand, and I expect you to obey."

Harsh words, gently spoken. Shaul tried to meet the baron's eyes, but failed again, not because he intended to lie but because he did not want to see the baron's expression when he told the truth.

"She governs by extremes, Baron. You will see dramatic changes in the castle. There are oil lamps in all the halls, a mosaic floor and crystal chandeliers in the great hall. There is also a bathing room in your chambers as there are in hers and Lord Jorani's with the hot water pumped from the kitchen as it is at home. She managed the changes in record time."

"She relished the hot baths at Shadow Castle. I'd expect her to be eager to have that work completed," Peto remarked.

"The mason overseeing the pipe fitting seemed to have had a huge opinion of himself and little inclination to finish on schedule. The baroness imprisoned his son. if he hadn't finished at the time he'd agreed to, she would have beheaded the boy."

"He finished on schedule, I presume."

"Three days early. She gave him three gold pieces for his diligence."

"Said diligence was hardly unexpected," Peto commented. He might not approve of Ilsabet's methods but they were certainly effective. "How do the people accept her?" he asked.

"The merchants and guildsmen love her because of the amount of money she has spent, the nobles because she shared the taxes on the merchants with them. The farmers and peasants go about their business without comment, as they do everywhere. The rebels and outlaws are quieter since we captured and imprisoned two dozen of their men, but I wrote you about that."

"Of course. Are they still in the castle?"

"Ten are. Three of the outlaws were recently executed as a reprisal for a raid on a caravan heading for Sundell. Five were found dead in their cells. Since they didn't die at the same time, we suspect plague rather than poison. Fortunately, the plague doesn't seem contagious. No one has died for over a week…"

Plague! Peto thought. Alarmed, he decided to move his child to the healthy climate of Sundell as soon after the delivery as possible.

"Six simply disappeared one at a time," Shaul continued. "Since everyone in this country seems related, I suspect that one of the Kislovan guards helped the men escape."

"I understand that some of the men's families have asked the guards to search for them."

"The search would be far easier to justify if we thought that the man wanted to be found, Baron," Shaul replied.

Peto considered what he'd learned earlier that night in Pirie. Over four dozen sheep had been killed in the last few months, their throats torn open. Three men had disappeared. The Pirie gathering blamed cats, goblins, werewolves, vampires, even the ghoulish remains of the dead rebel forces for the killings.

Cats had never been known to kill grown men. As for the goblins, Peto had seen-and smelled! — them often enough to know they weren't in the area. Peto discounted the other theories. Any sane man would.

"Send out a search party tomorrow," Peto ordered.

"You're contradicting Baroness Ilsabet's order?" Shaul asked carefully.

Shaul was right. Peto couldn't give the governing of Kislova over to his wife then return and not even consult with her before taking his rightful place as its ruler. "Thank you for reminding me. I'll meet with her first," he said. "How were the outlaws executed?"

"They were burned at the stake just outside the castle walls. All the men of Pirie were ordered to attend." Shaul forced himself to continue, "I understand that such executions are common in this land, but I have never seen such a barbaric sight. You asked for my candor, and I give it. I don't think public tortures are fitting. The baroness may rule, but she does so in the name of Sundell."

"Thank you, Shaui. Is there anything else to report?"

"Only that she's adopted another Sundell custom. She has established her own company of private guards, the members pulled from the ranks of the Kislovan soldiers."

"A wise move. Is that all?"

Shaul hesitated, then added, "Their leader frightens me. I've never felt this way about a man before, but it's true. Arman never raises his voice to his men, yet they obey him without question. And his loyalty to the baroness is unwavering."

Peto chuckled to hide his concern. "She chose well," he said. "If you've nothing to add, go back to bed. We'll speak more tomorrow."

After Shaul had gone, Peto undressed, then went into the new addition to his rooms. The tub was large, the wood enclosing it beautifully carved and polished. The pipes were crude and stuck straight out of the wall with carved letters on the wall labeling hot and cold. A few blows to them resulted in a flow of hot water and soon after he lay in the tub, reveling in a luxury he hadn't expected to find here so soon. And she'd paid the man extra for finishing the work early. He found her tactic almost amusing.

In the morning, after a servant brought a plate of fruit and fresh-baked bread, Peto sent for his wife. She came just as he was finishing his meal, a red velvet dressing gown wrapped tightly around her body to keep out the chill. Though she was huge with child, her features were as exquisitely beautiful as before, even more so it seemed because she had a serenity and confidence about her that he'd never seen before.

He made her sit down, poured her tea, then sat across from her, listening while she described her months alone in the castle. Her description of events matched his lieutenant's. When he asked why she hadn't sent out a search party to look for the missing rebel prisoners, she grew defensive. "They disappeared from their cells in the middle of the night, one by one as if intending to make me look like a fool. I won't add to their ridicule by sending my men out looking for them. Besides, it's only three miles to Pine. If something happened to the men, and we find even one body half-eaten by cats, the rumors will only increase."

"The villagers mentioned werewolves and vampires, as I recall." He'd intended the comment to be humorous.

Ilsabet didn't smile. "Superstitious fools!" she said. "Give in to their foolish beliefs now, and they'll be sharpening stakes tomorrow."

"They've reason to be concerned though."

"Cats killed a few sheep. It happens."

"Fifty-three sheep represent a sizable loss to farmers looking forward to the high prices they'd get for wool in Sundell."

"So many?" Ilsabet frowned. "I had no idea. I've some good hunters in my guard. I'll send out a few with orders to track and destroy the cats."

Jorani settled into his tower room. As soon as the servants finished unpacking his clothes and the books he'd brought from Shadow Castle, he bolted the door and went down the narrow stairs to his private room.

His supply of candles and lamp oil had been depleted. The spider lay content in the center of her web. The ants had continued to expand their tunnels. Ilsabet had cared diligently for his pets. From the lack of dust on his books, he was certain she'd also been studying. In the center of the table, no doubt set out for him to read, was the black book on raising the dead.

What a strange creature she was, with her fragile looks and unforgiving nature. Whenever he saw one of the Sundell soldiers riding out on patrol with a bit of his sweetheart's lace tied to his leather gauntlet, he thought of Ilsabet.

A rustling in the passage to the dungeons drew his attention from the book. He looked toward the dark door, expecting Ilsabet to join him. Instead, a gaunt young man stepped from the darkness into the dim lamplight. From the way he'd traveled the passage without benefit of light, Jorani guessed that he'd walked it many times. Then he saw the man's eyes, dark, intense with hunger. As calmly as he was able, Jorani backed away, toward the hanging globe. If need be, he would fling the glass bowl, spider and all, at the intruder and pray that none of the web touched his own skin before he escaped. "Who sent you?" Jorani asked.

"The baroness. She said I am to tell you she used the potion, and that I am the result. I am to answer your questions."

"Then sit," Jorani said.

The man did, and pulled back the hood of his black cape. Certain what the youth had become, Jorani winced. How could she have done it, and how could she have let the man live when she saw the result?

"My name is Arman, and I am captain of Baroness Ilsabet's guards," the man said, and in a simple, emotionless voice, he told his story.

"How do you survive?" Jorani asked Arman.

"On men taken from the dungeons, and when those aren't available, on sheep. Baroness Ilsabet said she is concerned about the loss of the sheep. She said that you would know what must be done."

Would know! Jorani thought of all his suspicions about Marishka's death, then Mihael's. He'd always believed Ilsabet incapable of the murder of those she loved, but now he knew she was capable of anything. The affection he felt for Ilsabet vanished in the hour that he sat and spoke with Arman-not only because of her ruthlessness but because of her cowardice. She should have told him all of this herself, then asked for help rather than all but demanding it. "You tell me that she created two of you?" Jorani asked when Arman had finished.

When Emory hunted, he occasionally came across Arman in the hills above the town. He helped Arman hunt his prey, watched him kill with such savagery that Emory was sickened by it. Nonetheless, they were brothers; Emory would never betray him.

Emory rarely slept at night, and when the sheep attacks began, he had an excuse for staying awake. Though his mother worried, he stayed outside with their flocks, guarding their corral. Spring had rolled in quickly. The land smelled of life-new grass, new leaves, the early wildflowers that already dotted the hills.

One night, he saw his brother riding toward him, his face white in the moonlight, his eyes shadowed and dark. Usually he was alone, but tonight there was another rider as well, a tall man on a magnificent stallion. He recognized the horse first, then the rider.

Arman didn't greet him, didn't ask about the family. Instead, he said, "Lord Jorani wishes to speak to you. The baroness wants you to answer all his questions truthfully."

Emory sighed. "Always more questions," he said. They walked together down the path that led to the cliff above the river, the same cliff from which he'd said he'd lost his brother's body so many months ago. Below them, the swollen Arvid River cut a line of silver through the forest. The evening was warm, and only a few mists curled above the water. From that spot, Emory could see the tops of the castle walls and the towers rising above the trees.

They tied the horses' reins to low branches then sat together. In the next hour, Emory described how he had been changed, and how he'd killed his brother, then taken him to the baroness to be saved.

"And do you have to kill the way your brother does?" Jorani asked.

"I did in the beginning. Now I control the need and feed off my flock. I don't drink from the same animal twice in a row, and I make certain any animal I use gets extra food for a few days after."

"Did you ever tell your mother what happened to Annan?" Jorani asked when Emory had finished.

"I couldn't. If I had I would have had to explain how I knew. It would have been one more tragedy among all the rest."

"A wise decision," Jorani said. He untied his horse. Arman did the same. Emory watched them mount and start down the narrow path to the river, with Lord Jorani in the lead. At the most treacherous part, Lord Jorani threw a handful of dust into the face of Arman's horse. The beast reared and tried to turn, slipping, falling over the cliff, carrying Arman with it. The rocks held the broken body for a moment, then released it to the insistent current.

Lord Jorani turned his mount carefully and rode back up the path to where Emory waited for him. Emory's arms were at his side. He bowed from the waist, never looking up as Lord Jorani pulled his sword. When the noble hesitated, Emory curled his hands into fists at his sides, nodded, and stood motionless as the sword sliced down through his neck.

When Jorani returned to the castle, he went directly to his tower rooms and penned a note to Ilsabet.

"I did as you wished," it said.

After reading it, Ilsabet pulled out her journal and wrote: "There's been too much suspicion in the countryside. Eventually Arman or Emory would have been caught, and my subjects would have learned the truth. Besides, since Jorani returned, Arman's usefulness is over. Now all traces of my experiment are gone, and I can rest easy, concentrating on the future."

She hesitated, then added a happier thought. "As I sit here, my child moves inside me. The midwives tell me it will be a strong boy. I'm thankful. At last I'll have my heir."